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nicolesainz · 1 year

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I miss you, I’m sorry (MM 19)

Mason Mount x f!reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, and as usual, fluff

Summary: Mason & you, have been best friends since the very first second. Although the bond wants to be broken by his girlfriend, who tries everything to achieve so (4.3k words)

I never thought one would be capable of holding on their heart that big amount of love for someone else. Especially one, who has already handed their heart to another. But you still are determined to give them your heart no matter the way.

Mason and I have known each other from the very first second we came into this world. His mother and mine, being lifelong best friends and giving birth, a month apart on the same date. We have been inseparable. The bond out mothers have passed into us and we have been the ‘trouble’ duo ever since.

Together in kindergarten and all the way from first graders to seniors. To our disadvantage, Mason had to leave England, as he was a lone to Vitesse in the Netherlands. They were the toughest months away from him. Whenever I could and had the money to do so, I visited him and watched all his games.

“Don’t waste your money on me, love” he would always say but secretly, he enjoyed me being there. He was lonely and I could tell.

“I always prefer to have you around than anyone else” he would say after our lengthy hug.

When he came back, everything was better, for the most part. We would see each other, but not always. My daily visits to his house or his to mine, became frequent to non-existent.

We would only meet at family gatherings and I kept my distance at every moment, mostly hanging with Lewis, Jaz or Declan. After he came back from Holland, he brought along a girlfriend, Chloe.

She seemed really sweet and kind, towards everyone. But apparently, I was her ‘substitute’, keeping her ‘seat’ warm.

That was the first honest thing she said to me. And the last ever.

I didn’t want to be an intruder so I took a step back and became a watcher of Mason’s life, instead of a part. Even though he would always text, call and give me box tickets for the Chelsea games, I turned them down.

I secretly went to the games, but in an attire, and under a fake name, away from the box, so I wouldn’t be noticeable. I would cheer silently and then leave immediately.

During the match with Norwich, which was Mason’s absolute stunner, having scored a hat trick, I was noticed by Lewis, who afterwards texted me.

“You shouldn’t have to do that. We’d tell we invited you.”

I would also get frequent questions by Jaz, Declan and Reece, as to why I didn’t attend the games, when the only one who knew the truth was Lewis.

“Either he’s blind, or she’s put him under a spell. I can’t tell you anything else”

Declan told me from the other line of the phone. 2020 had welcomed us with the virus and we were all isolated, unable to visit or come in contact.

“He says you’ve been dodging his calls and texts. You even unfollowed him on Instagram. What happened to the ‘trouble’ duo?”

“The only trouble apparently is me and to their relationship. That’s why I’ve been on hiatus. If I even dare to text him a ‘hello’, I’d be found dead the next minute”

“I want my old gang back. I don’t like this. Mason barely gives me attention! We went to vacation before the pandemic hit and even Lauren noticed that something was off”

“If she wasn’t attached to his hip, we would have arranged a secret meet up”

“I’ll do it and I don’t give a penny what she-“

“Who are you talking to?” Mason’s voice echoed across the line, silencing both me and Declan. It has been ages since I last heard his voice. I miss him, like crazy.

“Uh-no one. Just booking a table”

Declan’s phone was on his hand, visible to who he was talking to. Obviously I wasn’t aware of that, unable to react.

“Wait, that’s-“ and I immediately shut the line.

I threw my phone away and muffled my tears on my pillow. Under other circumstances, I would have Mason by my side, laughing our hearts out, feeling comfortable and at home.

Now, I’m alone, with my only company being Netflix and my bathtub. Mason’s existence was something unreachable and forbidden and forgotten.

Mason’s POV

“What the fuck Dec? Why were you taking to Y/N? What’s going on?” I was furious! How could she call him but ignore my texts?

“You know this isn’t my doing! Don’t blame me, mate” He rolled his eyes and he got up from the couch and stuffed his phone in his back pocket.

“Whose is? I surely don’t remember offending her or -“ I got interrupted abruptly by Declan when he said,

“You’re that blind, aren’t you?” He raised his voice and was at the point of opening the front door.

“What am I too blind to see? That she’s the one who’s been avoiding me ever since I came back from Holland!” I grab his arm and push the door shut!

“That this is all Chloe’s doing!” He lets out without blinking and looking directly into my eyes.

“What? That’s impossible. They barely talk. I mean, sure, Chloe would get jealous, but she would never be the reason Y/N is distant” How could he blame Chloe? And why is he?

“As you said, they barely talk. And when they do, Chloe does it all, because she’s trash talking the woman who’s been by your side since day fucking one! Who has spent all her pocket money to come and see you play in another country! Who was off-limits to me when I told you that she is cute back in eleventh grade! Who looks at you as if you’re the only man in the room! Who would do anything for you”

Declan’s words were like a thousand cuts covering my entire body and heart. Like sharpened knifed attacking me for my mistakes that, indeed, I was too blind to see.

What if this actually was all Chloe’s doing and I didn’t want to admit it.

I was speechless. I didn’t know what to say. This was very wild and hard to swallow. Did my own girlfriend want to tear me apart from my lifelong best friend? From the woman that I’d risk it all? From the woman who was the reason I didn’t want to leave England for The Netherlands?

“Talk to her. Reach out to her. She’s been hurting and you don’t even notice. It’s your call mate. I’m sorry I can’t help much. It a decision you have to make” Declan grabbed me by my shoulders and try to reason me. And he was right. I should do something.

A few hours after Declan left, I heard keys unlocking the front door and non-stop talking from Chloe. I think it’s time.

“Okay, gotta go. I’m back home. Kisses” she said hanging up to whoever she was talking with. I put down my controller and moved towards her.

“Hey baby. How was your day?” She went to kiss me but I simply held her hands back and moved my head towards the other direction.

“Are you sick? Is everything okay?” She asks, with her eyebrow being raised at me.

“No. I’m fine. What about you?” I reply bluntly, removing myself from her embrace.

“No! Something’s wrong. You usually won’t get off me. Or leave me like this. Got something to tell me?” She bites back at my answer.

“Maybe you’ve got something to tell me. Something that you’ve been keeping or doing behind my back for years!” I raise my voice, more than I should.

“You’re crazy Mase. I don’t know what to say. I’ve been doing nothing! Who told you so?” She drops her bag from her hand and crosses her arms.

“I won’t tell you shit, unless you give me a good reason as to why Y/N has distanced herself the past 2 years and I barely see her!” The moment I say those words, guilt instantly takes over me. I’ve been at fault too. I barely reach out to her.

“You’re not serious, are you? What do I have to do with her problem? It’s not my fault she’s jealous of us. I think it’s basic politeness rule not to interfere with one’s relationship”

“I think you’re not the serious one, Chloe! She doesn’t come to my games. Never replies my calls or texts. Only talks to my teammates or Declan. Is only around Jaz or Lewis when we have family gatherings and you never bother greeting her, nor being nice. And whenever you approach her, she ends up alone, shutting herself”

And once I realize that all this has been happening in front of my eyes, I instantly regret not having act quicker and more smartly. Because if I had, lots of this could have been avoided and our lives would have been completely different.

“You’re blaming me, because she’s a loner and only hangs out with your friends, just to find someone to spend the night?”

I wanted to throw up at the thought of Y/N, being with another man, who could give her less than she deserves. And I felt ashamed to be with a woman who characterizes my best friend as merely a hooker.

“We’re done! You’ve crossed the line, Chloe. I can’t do this anymore. I would never think that you’d be capable of doing so to someone who has never hurt you in any way! And I can’t be with someone who offends my best friend like that”

In any other occasion, I would have felt bad or my heart slowly cracking. Right now, I feel nothing. I feel empty and with no emotion coming out of me in any way.

“If you wanna break up, because of her, fine. Go fuck her. Let’s see how much of a success you’ll have after you’ll find one of your buddies under her sheets”

I swallowed hardly and went back to the room to pick up my stuff, which thankfully weren’t a lot to gather. I left my keys to her couch and left. I couldn’t bare being next to her another moment after what she’s said and done.

“Maybe she’ll love me more than you ever did. Maybe she’ll appreciate me more. Maybe she won’t judge me after every bad perforce and just comfort me instead of ignore me. And when she does, I’ll know, if made the right choice”

I say and shut the door behind me. I pick up my phone and scroll to my contacts until I find Y/N’s name. When I do, I click on it immediately.

“Can we please meet? I need to see you!” I type but if I said it in front of her, I’d have a more pleasing look in my eyes and voice.

My heart was beating very fast. Waiting for her response. In the meantime, I ask Kai if I can stay at his house for the night. Thankfully, neither him or Sophia had a problem with it.

“Care to share what happened between you and Chloe?” Sophia asks me as she takes the bag from my hands

“Soph, don’t be nosy. He’ll tell us himself” Kai said as he closed the door.

“It’s okay. I would have told you one way or another, it being the reason why I’m here. And thank you for letting me stay. I’ll be out of your way in the morning” I thank my friends for their gratitude and help.

“You’re always welcome, Mase. More people for Kai to play FIFA with, so he doesn’t get annoyed with me when I’m losing”

“That’s not-Hey! I don’t get annoyed. Don’t be mean. And of course, mate, you’re welcome to stay for as long as you want”

“Did she hurt you? Can we help anyhow?” Sophia softly rubs my arm as she takes a seat in front of me and Kai next to me.

“Has Y/N, told you anything as to why she’s been distant from me?”

Both of them went silent. Sophia lowered her head and Kai was trying to form a sentence through his mumbling.

“So everyone saw, besides me? I’m such a fucking idiot” I facepalm myself and shove my face in my hands.

“Don’t say that Mason. It wasn’t your fault. She’s the one who made Y/N feel bad for being around you and wanted to get rid of her in any possible way”

“Who could have imagined that their girlfriend would plan such a scheme because she was possessive?” Kai points out and Sophia nods agreeing.

“Has Y/N said anything about me the past few months or even at all?” My attention turns to Sophia, who surely knows more than Kai at the moment.

I needed to know what Y/N’s feelings were towards me. I wanted to apologize for everything that had happen and change the way of things. I wanted a fresh start and I wanted her by my side again.

“She has eyes for no one but you. Convincing her to do otherwise was a lost case. She loves you more than anyone. And she was willing to let Chloe hurt her, if she could still love you from distance”

I was playing with fire all this time. I should have said something when my heart had her name carved on it, before someone else stepped on it.

My phone buzzed on my jeans out of nowhere. I take it in my hand and I start shaking as I see that Y/N has replied to my text.

“I don’t think we should Mason. It’s kinda difficult”

My heart sinks at the message and I drop my phone on the table, throwing my head back.

“I’ve bottled this. I had since the first moment. I should have told her I love her before I left for Vitesse but it would have complicated things. Fucking idiot”

“Do you want us to talk to her? Maybe arrange something without her knowing you’ll be there?” Kai looks at Sophia, knowing that she’ll convince Y/N to meet with them.

“She will hate me. She probably won’t talk to me ever again if things go south. But I want both of you to be happy. And I know that if you two are together, you can be the happiest version of yourselves” she replies, grabbing her phone from the kitchen and calling Y/N’s number.

The moment I hear her voice, a tear escapes my eye and my heart cracks slowly. What had I done?

“Hey Soph. Everything okay?”

“Yes babe. Can I ask a favor though?”

“Sure. Anything you want!”

“Can you come over? Is it too late?”

“Uh no. It’s fine. Are you sure nothing happened?”

“Y/N, come save me please. She’s making me pick dress for your next get-out. Too many outfits are on the bed” Kai makes the situation more convincing, as Sophia doesn’t know what excuse to use.

“Oh stop whining Kai. I’ll come. Give me 20 minutes and I’ll be over. Do you want me to bring anything?”

“No, love! Just your help. Thank you immensely!” Sophia gulps hardly, hating for lying to her friend.

“No problem. See you soon” and Y/N hangs up.

“I owe you Soph! Whatever you want. And you too buddy”

“I just want you two together. I’ll be happy with just that” the woman pats me softly on the back.

As time went by, I became more and more anxious. I didn’t know how she would react. What she would say. Would she be mad? Angry? Sad? Disappointed?

My stomach was tied up and I was nauseous. I didn’t want to mess things up again. She was deserving of the best and if I didn’t give that to her, someone surely would. And I’ll be standing there, looking at how happy she is with someone who isn’t me. With someone who can also hurt her. But I hurt her too. So it’s selfish of me to think so.

I remember when she had come at one of my last games for Vitesse, before transferring to the senior Chelsea team. I was beyond happy, and had even scored two goals. Probably one of my favorite nights ever.

FLASHBACK

“AND MASON MOUNT SCORES WITH THE CROWD GOING ABSOLUTELY WILD FOR HIM. WHAT A BALLER!” Y/N imitates the commentators and what could have been my first goal for Chelsea at the senior team.

I applause her and she bows gracefully as she lands back next to me on the couch. She seems so radiant and happy. And I couldn’t be more thankful for her.

“You know, you should really be a pundit, or a commentator. I heard Sky Sports are looking for one”

“No. I’m fine where I am. Plus, I like being a personal commentator. Not for the public!”

“Oh. So I get to enjoy you all to myself? Those amazing commentating skills?”

“Don’t be so full of yourself, Mount. But yes, you do. Be proud of that”

“I am. I’ll cherish that for as long as possible”

“Don’t worry. You’ll hear me commenting for the rest of your life. I’m not going anywhere”

“I damn hope you aren’t. If you won’t allow the public to appreciate your skills, at least let me”

“That’s what I plan on doing. Whether you like it or not”

“I think you can tell from the expression on my face what I think”

“Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite person alive?”

“I’ll enjoy getting used to hear that too then”

“Oh shut up prima donna”

“You’re my favorite person to Y/N. And that will never change. No one can ever take your place”

“Glad to hear we’re on the same page. Because no one will never take your spot. And I will never allow them too”

That was when I realized I love her. And I shouldn’t have let her slip my hand. I don’t usually regret things in life. But I did on this occasion.

END OF FLASHBACK

The doorbell rings and my heart stops beating. Shit, she’s here. And I feel as if I’m being drowned in my own feelings and overwhelmingness. What is this?

This is love, you dipshit.

“Ready Mase?” Sophia says with a trembling voice as her hand reaches for the knob of the door.

“As I’ll ever be” I reply and the door opens with a bright looking Y/N, showing up, beautiful as ever. I may not had seen her in months but I could never forget how breathtaking she’s always been.

“Hey guys. I’m here to help” her sentence finishes as soon as it starts when her eyes fall on me. She stops on her tracks and words don’t dare come out of her mouth.

Fear takes over my body and I instantly regret everything. We wouldn’t have been in this situation if it wasn’t for my stupidity.

“I think I should-uh-call you later. It seems like you’ve got company. I won’t bother“ Sophia stops her mid sentence and grabs her arm before she could turn back.

“Give him a chance. And if nothing changes, he will be gone. Just let him explain. He’s here for you” the German woman whispers even though she’s audible enough to my ears.

“Explain what? He’s getting married? Leaving again? What do I have to do with him?” I know ‘him’ is just a subject of a sentence but it tasted very bitter, being called just that and not Mase or Mason.

“He wants to apologize. And say something that has been haunting him for ages, that he probably should have said ages ago”

“Does Chloe know he’s here or will I-“

“Let him explain this one too”

Kai looks at me sympathetically and pats me in the back as he takes Sophia’s hand after hugging Y/N and greeting her. Now, I’m left alone in a room with Y/N after god knows how long.

Y/N’s POV

“Hi Mase” is all I manage to say. My effort sucks but I’m not the one who’s supposed to do the talking now.

“How have you been?” He replies, standing up and coming a bit closer to me. I feel my palms getting sweatier as he takes a step.

“Things have been good. You know how isolation works. Uh-what about-“ I couldn’t finish what I wanted to say when he interrupted me

“I asked about you, Y/N. Tell me how you are!” He sounded demanding but not in a mean way. More like a concerning one.

“If I say good, that will be a lie” I lower my head, not wanting to look him in the eyes.

“And I know that this is my fault” he admits with a broken voice, wanting to take my hands into his but me slowly removing them.

He doesn’t let me go, holding me even more firmly. I hadn’t felt the warmth of his touch in god knows how long. There was a nostalgic feeling surrounding the moment.

“I’ve let you slip away enough. I don’t wanna repeat this mistake” Mason says, placing his free fingers under my chin and raising my head to face him.

Tears have covered my eyes and I can feel them pooling my shirt and cheeks. This isn’t what I expected on a Wednesday night.

“It’s not your fault Mason. I understand her place” I bitterly say hating her even more than I already do.

“You don’t have to anymore. And you never should have. Hell, I shouldn’t have let this happen!” He raises his voice, which makes me tremble.

“You couldn’t have known. You’re not to blame here Mase” I can’t really blame him, even though that’s all I want to do. Because I never took action either.

“No, Y/N, I should have known. I should have been aware that my favorite person in this entire world is hurting. That my favorite person was distancing herself and i would slowly lose my reason for smiling everyday”

His face comes closer to mine and I can feel my knees going weaker and weaker as seconds come and go.

“I loved you Mase. I still do. I forced myself to stop, but it was an impossible task. My heart didn’t want to let you go. I believed that this pain would eventually lead somewhere, so I kept letting it take over me. Even though at moments I felt like this was a lost cause” the words slipping off my mouth, surely have been spoken by my heart and not brain. It was what I had been bottling all those years.

“I hated not coming to your games properly and having to hide in the crowd, wearing odd like clothes so Chloe wouldn’t recognize me. I hated coming to the family gatherings and not being able to even come near you, or say a simple ‘hello’. I hated that she could kiss and hug you every day and night, without realizing there’s a dropper meaning behind this!”

MASON’s POV

My heart was slowly shattering as each of her words were like small tarts aiming for me. I had a barrier next to me this whole time, keeping away the most amazing woman everyone would die to have. And when I could have her, I decided not to.

“After my return, I wanted to so badly kiss you and tell you how much I love you. That night, the final one in Holland, I thought that I could never let you go. Because you’re the one for me. Because you’re the woman of my dreams. My lifelong partner in crime. But I thought this would destroy years of friendship and wonderful memories”

That’s when she finally breaks down. She can’t stop crying and falls into my arms, holding me as tight as ever. I had caused her so much pain, that I was willing to give her ever drop of my happiness so she could restore hers.

“Please kiss me. Tell me this isn’t a dream. Because if I am dream, I would hate to wake up to an empty bed. Hold me as if this is the last time we will ever see each other. Tell me that you love me. Because these have been the words that kept me going all this time” she mumbles into my neck and I quickly turn her head to face me one last time.

I bring my lips closer to hers, with a bright spark connecting them and suddenly the world stop spinning. I don’t think I’ve ever felt my heart beating so incredibly fast.

Her touch is so soft and precious that if I could never stop kissing her, it would be better than oxygen. I could spend my entire life hanging by her lips and I would be happier than ever. She doesn’t fall back. She doesn’t want to believe that this is reality, when it actually is.

We unfortunately break the kiss and a massive smile is plastered on each others lips. I had missed her smile so much. I had missed seeing this beautiful girl waking up next to me everyday after we had confessed everything to one another.

This was what true love feels like. What being love and love someone is. What being appreciated and desired is. And I was glad that only Y/N could give me this feeling.

“Promise me, that you will never leave again. And I promise you that I will give you the goddamn world if it means to cherish and keep you close to me forever. I will give you everything you deserve and so much more, Y/N. Because there’s no one else on this earth that deserves more than you”

“I have loved you since day one Mason. I was never willing to stop or disappear. And I promise to remind you everyday, how much I love you. How much you mean to me. How much I appreciate you”

#mason mount fluff #mason mount #chelsea fc #mason mount x y/n #mason mount one shot #mason mount x reader

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ayufufu · 24 days

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OnionThief x Rival!MC

Word Count: 4368

Summary: In which OnionThief and his rival get paired up for a project. But for the first time, he gets to see what it’s like for them behind the scenes of their bratty know-it-all personality (basically academic burnout).

Author’s Note: Started sometime in 2020, finished April 5th, 2024. I present the sassy, probably out-of-character, OnionThief and his little rival. Trust, it’s been like 3 years since I’ve played this game. Oh lord am I out of touch with this fandom. It is buried within me right now. But hey, finished writing. I am proud of the beginning half, the ending might not be it though.

“Eat shit and die.”

“Yes, fuck you.” These whispers flew past surrounding peers, already used to overhearing this type of bickering between the pair. It was never truly clear how it began. They tested each other’s knowledge, butting heads every year since high school. Y/N and Onionthief simply found each other insufferable, their hostility seemed to intensify when they found out they applied to the same college. It was as though they were water and oil, never being able to mix well. The professors chose to pay no mind since both were still excelling. Their grades were incredibly high, scores screaming in pain at the height they were reaching, extra credit opportunities never wasted.

“You’re all dismissed, please remember to review pages 556 to 590 for next week.” The class let out dim cheers, the sounds of paper rustling, bags zipping, and peers exchanging words filling the large room. As Y/N finished packing their last item away, they rushed straight to the door. Walking to the outside of campus, they made a mental to-do list. Assignments were beginning to pile up, but Winter break was right there. Couldn’t stop now.

“Move,” Onion’s voice rang out as he shoved his shoulder into theirs harshly, a scoff coming from them as they’re broken from their thoughts.

“I wasn’t aware the 15 feet of space around me was nonexistent,” Y/N spat. Their eyes followed his back as he continued his fast pace without a word. Unbelievable. Turning to walk the other direction, the sounds of their peers filled their ears. Silently restarting their to-do list, the sounds became a blur. The walk to their apartment was a routine, passing the different trees and couples before reaching the bridge. Rushing across, the sounds of another pair of footsteps flooded their ears.

“So you’ve resorted to stalking me,” Onion sneered. Y/N turned around, head flooded with annoyance.

“I live here, you’re aware of that.” “Right.” He walked over to the bridge pulling a small bottle from his pocket. Y/N watched curiously as he tipped it over the edge and shook it a bit. Realizing he was feeding the fish, Y/N walked off, bag bouncing with each step. The eyes following them were left unnoticed, the sounds of class echoing in their mind all the way to their desk.

“I mentioned at the beginning of the year that there will be one major partner assignment in this class, serving as our midterm final.” Groans and whispers of cheers filled the room, peers feeling dreadful while others spotted friends across the room. Y/N sighed, head resting in their arms. Glad he’s at least sitting somewhere else.

“Alright, settle down. These partners will be assigned by your latest test scores.” Right... Y/N clicked their pen impatiently, feeling the metal between their fingers, more sounds of displeasure filling the room. The teacher droned on about the details of the project, explaining how lower scores would be assigned tutors for their projects.

“Let’s start with the highest scores shall we?” They sat up.

“Y/N and—” Clack. The sound of the pen hitting the table drew the attention of a few surrounding classmates, but Y/N didn’t even take notice.

“You two don’t need a tutor so you’ll be able to view the project details online. Now for…” He was their partner. For once, a teacher decided to pair them up. They sat through the rest of the class, every word flowing through their ears and out the other. Nothing was staying put into their mind. I just had to be paired with such an insufferable… Shaking their head, they heard the professor dismiss them.

“Well, I guess I’m ready to fail this assignment.” And there he is. They began packing their stuff, shoving the items in the bag messily.

“Same here, you’ll just drag down my grade even if we did try.”

“Right, what was this worth again, 50%?” Y/N stopped their aggressive packing at this.

“Where did you get that this was 50%?” “Read the details dumbass,” he passed his phone to them. Their eyes skimmed over the details, the 50 percent and “due in 10 days” standing out from everything else. The phone was plucked out of their hands as he smirked, tucking it away. He left the room, Y/N trailing behind. They couldn’t just skip the assignment, their hard-earned A+ would easily drop in just one month. Onion tried his best not to notice the footsteps behind him, knowing it was them. He held back chuckles as he wondered how long they’d follow him.

“Hey shallot-head,” Y/N called. He hummed in acknowledgment, but he still didn’t change pace or look their way. Y/N was starting to struggle to keep up the pace, always one step or two behind from walking next to him, not noticing the smirk he was hiding. They finally huffed before grabbing the back of his shirt to stop him completely. He halted at the sudden pressure, a smirk forming a look of surprise while Y/N rushed to face him.

“Listen shallot, I can’t afford to skip this assignment.” He cocked an eyebrow at this.

“The Y/N cannot afford to skip this assignment? I’m sure you can lose half of your grade, still pass, and I would be able to avoid your ridiculously low IQ.” Their head felt hot at the sound of his ridiculing.

“I need to pass this assignment. I can do the work, but you just need to revise some parts to look like it’s yours,” Y/N pleaded. He seemed to ponder the options, putting his chin between his fingers.

“No.” He turned to leave. “Wait– I offer instant miso!” His head perked up.

“Green onions too, plus I’ll throw in extra tofu.” He grabbed Y/N’s wrist roughly before beginning to drag them to the apartment in a rush, Y/N struggling once more to keep up, relief washing their body.

“I need to stop here for a moment.” He approached the bridge again, the same bottle as before in his hand. Y/N watched him shake the bottle once more, fish crowding the area again. He turned back to them before nodding and walking to the complex, Y/N tailing after. Once they called the elevator, awkward silence surrounded them. For the first time since they began their walk (run) back, tension swallowed them whole, arms and legs aching from arduous journeys across campus and poor posture in class.

Y/N stepped into the elevator first, clicking the third-floor button once Onion stepped in. They side-eyed him, taking in his tense yet relaxed state. Y/N willed themselves to relax their stiff body while the elevator doors spread open.

“Do you need anything from your room or are you good to go,” Y/N asked, adjusting the bag on their back.

“I don’t need anything else. I bring all my work necessities with me” They nodded at his response before putting in their pin and unlocking the door. They walked straight in, putting away their necessities, shoes by the door, and water bottle on the table.

“Right, um, you could set up in the kitchen while I make your miso?” Onion nodded and began to set his stuff on the chair next to Y/N’s stuff while they began putting a pot of water on the stove. As Onion began pulling out his laptop and notes, he stared at Y/N’s back while they shuffled around the kitchen grabbing things out of cabinets and drawers. His brows furrowed in annoyance at the unwanted presence, punching his laptop code in with more pressure.

“Don’t you have a desk?” Onion sighed at the environment.

“I do, but it only fits me. I didn’t plan on having anyone study at my apartment until now.” The instant miso powder hit the boiling water, the aroma filling the room, the silence of their voices following. Bubbling water and mouse clicks were the only things heard for a few more minutes, the atmosphere stiff. Eventually, two bowls of miso, two laptops, two notebooks, and two comp sci students were positioned at the table.

“So, let’s test the limits of your stupidity.” “...I literally have a higher score than you.”

“Ok, and?” Y/N leaned back in their chair. They barely even started, the soup still steaming, but their bickering was starting up once more.

“I’m just saying, that B in algorithms seems to say something about you.” Harshly sighing, Y/N tipped their head back to the ceiling, their eyes tracing the patterns in the material.

“If you don’t pay attention I will chug this miso and leave.” They snapped their head towards him. They sat up and positioned their arms to type before realizing they hadn’t even read all of the assignment details yet. This was going to be a long month.

10 days.

“No dumbass, this is supposed to be–” “No it isn’t, what the hell?”

“Are you denying the truth? “I am denying what is clearly wrong.” “Look at my notes, it’s right!” Y/N shoved their notes in Onion’s face. Pushing his glasses further up his nose, his eyes scanned the text. After a minute or so, he sighed.

“Your notes are wrong.” Their eyes widened when Onion handed his own notes to them before rereading their notes with a confused expression. Onion had wanted to work on homework before continuing the project to make sure their (mostly his) grades didn’t drop. Upon looking at their notes from the day, their professor's words filled their brain again. They couldn’t stop the disappointment from filling their face, a frown settling on their features. Since they were so sure they were right, they didn’t think their understanding of the topic was off. Onionthief observed their down face, an expression he seldom saw.

8 days.

“I couldn’t grab extra tofu last time I went out for groceries.” Y/N set the bowls down carefully, taking their seat right after. Onion didn’t budge, opting to continue typing away at his laptop. At the lack of response, they cocked an eyebrow. They thought he’d throw a fit, but surprisingly he stayed put. Y/N sighed before opening up their work yet again, shoulders aching. Onion stayed true to the deal, opting to revise the parts Y/N laid out for him while continuing his homework from other classes. At the lack of help and the burden of other classes on their mind, Y/N could feel the shadows of burnout waiting to envelop them. After this, they were prepared to let their bed swallow them whole.

6 days.

“Hey, this is still wrong.” Y/N’s head jerked up from the part of the project they were currently typing out. Onion observed them as they rapidly scrolled to where he was viewing. It was an entry from the beginning of the project. A part that affected the rest of the work. Deeply sighing, the monotone voice in their head began reading again. Despite rereading it constantly, nothing was sticking. It was as though the words didn’t exist. At the lack of response from Y/N after a good few minutes, Onion huffed before highlighting the mistake in the text.

“Oh.” It was all they could let out at the moment. Despite the sentence highlighted, the information wasn’t processed in their head. Their face scrunched up at the hotness filling their head. The sight made an unfamiliar feeling rise in Onion. He breathed out harshly before deleting the sentence, correcting it himself. If it wasn’t for the silence in the kitchen, he doubted he’d ever hear the quiet ‘thanks’ they let out. He froze at the appreciation, the sound of it unfamiliar from them. The hell do they mean ‘thanks’?

5 days.

The project was still unfinished, the amount of work left taunting Y/N as they were left staring at the blank screen yet again. The homework had already seemed to have drained them, but they refused to call it a night yet. Their miso bowl was cold, the ingredients settling to the bottom. Onion had already finished his homework and revised the parts of the project he was given. Now, he seemed to be collecting data on some fantasy web novel. Rubbing their temple, Y/N shut their laptop despite having never even opened the project yet. Their brain was on overdrive, the workload invading their mind and trying to push them to work. Despite their efforts, Y/N just couldn’t bring themself to even pretend they could work, their gaze burning holes in the back of Onion’s laptop.

“Are you finally done with the project,” Onion blurted out, eyes not leaving his screen. No answer. Glancing over the top of his laptop, his eyes were met with Y/N’s drained demeanor. As his gaze wandered over their face, it soon traveled to the untouched bowl on the side. Adjusting his glasses, he shut down his laptop after saving his work, the sudden movement making Y/N jump. He leaned forward, chin resting against the back of his hands.

“Do you need help?” “Why the fuck are you asking like that–” “I’m just asking.” “Yes, but what’s with that pose, you look dramatic.” Onion’s confused face became deadpan at the comment. He opened his mouth to let out a snarky remark before Y/N got up abruptly. He watched as they trudged over to their room, the door shutting softly behind them as a muffled thud was heard.

3 days.

Y/N hasn’t emerged from their room since yesterday, the silence in class left everyone dumbfounded as Onion continued on with his day-to-day classes in silence. Yet as the day came to an end, he found himself in front of the same door he’s gone to for the past 19 days. What do I even say? Why am I here? They didn’t say they’d work on the project today. His hand raised for the buzzer.

“Coming…” Dull. A very dull voice. “Come on in, miso’s in the pot. I’ll be in my room laying down, we can just do it tomorrow or something.”

“But that would put us–”

“Behind schedule I know, shut up. Please.” He frowned at their small pleading. I don’t like that they have to plead. “If you want to you can work on it yourself…”

“But that wasn’t-”

“A part of the deal I know, it’s just a suggestion. Take it or leave it, miso’s still yours.”

“Oh.. okay then.” As they left, Onion felt bitter guilt rising in him. He looked at the miso and sighed before pulling out his laptop and getting to work. Might as well as payment for the miso. He swiftly got to work as Y/N stayed silent in their room.

2 days.

Onion finished the last of his typing, the kitchen was oddly silent as there was no miso being cooked and no Y/N to bother him. Y/N just let Onion in, apologizing for the lack of miso or food, and tried to turn him away, but Onion persisted that it didn’t matter. They let Onion do what he wanted as they did the same as they did before, retreating back to their room in silence. Yet Onion completed the project yesterday. It was a minor error that needed to be corrected, one colon needed to make the code work. When he found the error, all he could do was chuckle a bit before staring at Y/N’s room.

“Why can’t I just leave,” Onion whispered to himself as he stared at his laptop in frustration.

“No one said you can’t,” Y/N muttered, walking over to the fridge to get water.

“I know,” Onion spat. “I don’t know shallot, doesn’t seem like it,” Y/N spoke in a flat sing-song tone.

“Could you just, shut up already, damn,” he spat. Y/N carried no response. They stood in place, the chill of the open fridge numb to their body as they stared into the light illuminating the numerous food products inside. “Y/N…?” They closed the fridge as if on autopilot and made their way back into their room, their heart weighing heavy as an ache formed in their chest, their cheeks damp. Damn it.

24 hours.

No knock today. The miso sat on the stove for 3 hours, cold, and untouched. Y/N waited hours, even after they poured the miso down the drain. Part of them laughed at themselves for waiting, yet the other part made them ache. Of course, he got tired of me like everyone else. The silence of their apartment bothered them, the lights and blinds all dimmed. They stared at the freshly bought miso packets, the weight of their assignments and lectures missing pushed on their heart and crushed it as their tears fell.

22 hours.

“Oh,” was all Y/N could muster when they received an email from Onion telling them to get on the link to the project presentation. Not a single “sorry” or “Are you okay” was typed out. They grabbed their laptop and moved it from their bed to their desk as they prepared for another night in bed alone again. Their assignments could wait just a bit longer.

21 hours, 3AM.

Three knocks.

“Hey, sorry I was finishing up the work in the library.” Oh? Y/N could smell the bullshit coming from him.

“Oh, it’s fine, don’t worry,” was all they could muster in response.

“Okay, here I’ll make miso. I don’t smell miso, so I guess it’s safe to assume you haven’t been making any. I’m sorry for ghosting,” Onion gave a sheepish smile. What the hell do you mean sorry? Their chest aches even more at the sight of his small smile.

They talked for a while on the couch about the assignments Y/N had been missing while the TV ran some background noise for them. Turns out Onion and Y/N were excused from some extra tutoring that other students were given in the class, so it wasn’t too bad. Y/N still had some work to do, but Onion mentioned how he finished the assignment way before, hence the email to check on the file. Y/N breathed a sigh of relief.

“Why don’t I make us some miso soup for once,” Onion asked. Y/N raised a brow at this in mocking offense.

“You, my guest, cooking? Hell no.” Onion scoffed.

“Just rest.”

“No I’ll make it–”

“Literally shut the fuck up and go.”

“Fine.” Y/N pushed themselves off of the couch and semi-stopped over to their bed before plopping on it dramatically. Onion walked in to make sure they were actually in bed before grabbing an extra blanket that sat on their chair and layering it on them. Y/N side-eyed his every move the entire time as he did. Their heart had a warm ache this time while Onion shut the door.

“Where the fuck do they put the pots.” Now that Onion was tasked with “taking care” of Y/N, he realized he had no idea where anything was. He sighed before going through each cabinet one by one. Y/N heard the cabinets opening and closing before smiling softly to themselves. Wait, what.

The weight lifted from their shoulder. The heaviness of the world had gone. They took a deep breath, sinking back into the soft blankets once more.

20 hours, 4AM.

“Damn this is good, what kind of crack did you put,” Y/N enthused.

“Just some extra ingredients I brought,” Onion replied. Y/N froze. “I didn’t fucking poison it dumbass.”

“Well how am I supposed to know, hm?” Y/N spat.

“We’re eating food… from the same pot.”

“Oh yeah huh.” Y/N hastily resumed their eating as Onion shook his head. Y/N pondered as they ate. “Hey… you’ve been acting different lately. You’re less…”

“Less what?”

“Less annoying,” Y/N deadpanned.

“...thanks?”

“You’re more… enjoyable to be around I guess.” Onion felt his face go a bit warm, having never heard those from their voice. He stared down at his bowl as he felt it go to his ears. “Woah,” he heard Y/N say. “You’re red as fuck.”

“Yeah, wonder who’s fault that is,” Onion retorted. Y/N chuckled at that as they stood up to grab more soup. The TV was all that filled the room as Onion felt his brain restarting. Rain began to patter against the windows. “I guess you’re not that annoying too, enjoyable, even…” Y/N froze up too, almost dropping the soup filled ladle. They quickly shook their head as they put the bowl back on the table, mimicking what Onion had just done. Shyness is cute on them…? Onion was considering things immensely now.

With the change in attitude from his supposed academic rival, his emotions have been askew these past days. The lack of brattiness left a hole. Something, such as a shift in the force, had changed his whole routine entirely.

“Fuck off,” Y/N spat.

“Nah.”

“Whore.”

“Eat shit and die,” Onion smirked.

“That’s my fucking line,” Y/N gasped dramatically at their own words being used against them.

“Oh whatever,” Onion chuckled fondly.

19 hours, 5AM.

The two sat in Y/N’s living room now as they chatted and argued about anything they could find. During Onion’s dramatic listing of every time he’s won against Y/N, he noticed them staring long and hard at their bedroom door.

“Earth to dumbass, what’s up?”

“I should get a start on some of my other assignments. So close to finishing yet...” Y/N let out a harsh sigh. “You probably want to head back to yours anyways.” Onion sat upright at this. “See, like a fucking dog–”

“No.” Y/N raised an eyebrow?

“Fuck you mean, no?” Onion himself didn’t even know what he meant.

“No as in… I’m not going home?”

“Suit yourself.” Y/N got up and went to their bedroom, leaving Onion dumbfounded on the couch.

No? What am I even going to do here… He took a deep breath before walking over to Y/N’s bedroom. They were already at work on their laptop.

“Hey, I’m gonna go,” Onion muttered.

“Figured, I’ll see you out then.” Y/N led the way to the door while Onion trudged along behind them with his work bag.

“Are you actually showing up tomorrow,” Onion snickered. His face turned to an unreadable expression the second he noticed Y/N look away silently with a stone face as they pondered it.

“Nah, fuck that,” Y/N chuckled dryly. An idea popped into Onion’s mind.

“Burned out?”

“What?” Y/N knew what he was talking about of course, but the fact that Onion even questioned it felt out of character for him. “So what if I am,” Y/N snapped.

“Well… you know that’s not healthy…” Onion started.

“Yes, but it got everything done so I don’t see why—”

“Because you worried me.” Y/N’s eyes widened.

“I worried you?”

“Yes.” By now the both of them were staring at each other in the entrance to Y/N’s apartment, neither of them moving and the silence filled with their heavy breaths. Onion stepped forth and held out both of his hands. Y/N gave a sharp look at him as he gestured towards them, keeping them outstretched. Y/N hesitantly put their hands in his.

“You can’t just say that…”

“I can’t?” They dropped his hands.

“No, it.. It’s confusing for me.” Onion leaned against the wall, shoving his hands in his jacket pocket.

“It’s confusing for me too, you know,” Onion whispers, averting his gaze to the ground. Perhaps if he stared hard enough, the wall and him would combine as one and he’d be able to leave. Taking care of his little siblings was one thing, comforting someone his age was another. There was a reason he resorted to talking to his friends online.

“Hey…” Y/N stepped forward, their hand twitching. “What’s on your mind, if you don’t mind my asking?” A faint smile was painted on his face. After all this, they’re still so kind.

“I.. don’t mind per say.” His bag weighed heavily on his shoulder, pulling his heart to the ground in ache. “I’m just not sure I know how exactly to say,” he sighed. A gentle finger laced with one of his own as Y/N hooked them together. Looking up in confusion, they dragged him over to the sofa.

“Let’s start from the beginning shall we?”

After a couple hours, the two had made up that night, and with help from Y/N’s visitor and a sleepover numerous late assignments were turned in. Now, it’s been a whole week since that night.

“Hey, you know you don’t have to keep coming over,” Y/N laughed as they stirred the miso in the pot as normal. This routine came back immediately. Onion coming over to Y/N’s, the smell of miso soup filling the apartment after settling down for a few minutes. A chat about interests along with plenty of time for assignments.

“Yeah well, you make my day plenty more interesting, ‘you know,’” Onion mocked. Feigning offense, the miso soup pot was set in the middle of the counter with a cork mat underneath. As Onion grabbed himself a portion, Y/N strolled over to the TV and turned it on for background noise.

“Yeah yeah, oh how I must brighten your oh so, dark, dreadful, drowsy days.” Laughter filled the apartment, almost drowning out the TV noise.

“...festival lasts for a few days, but, due to fortunate circumstances, will be held during local schools' vacation days.” The TV listed the dates as the two college students looked at each other. “Not to mention, the Winter Festival is known for the competitive nature that it brings to it’s attendees with the plethora of games, contests, and more, only here at…”

“That’s our Winter break dates huh…” Onion smirked.

Y/N cleared their throat. “Would you care to join me to this, uh, ‘friendly’ festival?”

“Oh,” Onion leaned forward. “It’s on.”

#onionthief #blooming panic x reader #bloomic #blooming panic #mc #fanfic #fanfiction

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shutupptara · 1 year

Text

‘tis the damn season - nathan mackinnon

summary: set during the 2020-shortened season- you’re home for christmas when you run into one nathan mackinnon on a grocery run. it’s been years since you’ve last talked, let alone seen each other, but it’s quickly like no time has passed. and the road not taken looks real good now..

i’ve been writing this since 2020. much like all of my writing i’ve posted, you have @kat-hearts to thank for this. she lovingly bullied me into finishing a piece i hadn’t touched in years. set at christmas, but not a christmas story. also set during the pandemic, so reality is very hand wavy (aka the nhl pushing the season happens, but lockdown isn’t reallllly a big deal) so if that bothers you, maybe skip this one.

is this any good? i honestly don’t know, but i know i loved writing nate so pls enjoy

word count: 13,151

warnings: alcohol use, strong language, explicit sexual content MINORS DNI, a general disdain for life and choices made, a tiny bit of angst, hating on Florida (it’s okay i live there) a LOT of self indulgence

title from ‘tis the damn season by Taylor Swift

It wasn’t that she didn’t like returning home for holidays, it was just a huge ordeal every time it happened. Not only was it a 3,000 mile trip, there was always ice and snow to contend with. Coupled with her well-meaning, albeit overbearing, neighbors, the holidays get to be a bit much for her to handle. Still, there’s something wonderful about the tranquility of home. Refreshing, really. With a year as stressful as 2020 had been, it was a blessing to be able to return home for the holidays.

Her first true day of Christmas break, her mother begs her to go to the store for her: there’s so much baking to prepare for, and while she is happy to do the shopping for her, she knows it’s so she won’t see her wrapping presents. Even at 26, her mom insists upon marking her gifts ‘from Santa’, and the nostalgia of it always makes her smile. So, against her better judgment, she ventures out to the closest Sobeys. She has her jacket and scarf pulled tightly around her, unwilling to admit to herself she really can’t take the cold anymore, but mostly wanting to hide to be in and out as quickly as possible.

She grabs a cart on her way in the store, unlocking her phone and holding it open in front of her, eyes sweeping across the list her mother had sent her with. It isn’t terribly long, thankfully. She makes quick work of grabbing what she needs, moving down the aisles long ago committed to memory with ease. Various other things get tossed into the cart as she moves: chocolate covered pretzels, a case of Diet Coke, her favorite cheese crackers.

When she reaches the wine aisle, she shrugs to herself, deciding it’ll be best to have some on hand, in case of an emergency. She grabs a bottle of Roscato for her mom, and two bottles of cab for herself. Once they’re safely in the cart, she makes her way to the checkout line. There’s quite a few people crowded there, and she tries to maneuver around to a shorter line, her brow furrowing when she spots a rather large looking man a few feet in front of her.

As she gets closer, realization washes over her. “Nathan MacKinnon,” she stops in her tracks, heart swooping in her chest. “As I live and breathe.” It comes out before she really even processes what’s happening.

He turns, almost as if in slow motion, his eyes widening when they land on her. “My god, it’s been ages. What are you doing here?”

She smiles slightly, suddenly hyper aware of how messy her hair is, and the fact that she hadn’t tried very hard when getting dressed this morning. “Could ask you the same thing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you home for Christmas.” She knows for a fact she hasn’t. It was the one reprieve of being back in Cole Harbour - Nate was never here.

“Yeah, I’m usually not,” he shrugs. “I uh, you know with the year as crazy as it’s been, and the season being pushed, I’ve actually been home most of the year. Hanging out with Andy, Sid, Jack, Pete...” There’s a longing look on his face, mirroring the ache she knows is lingering in his chest. There’s an identical one inside of her, and she knows she’s to blame for the pain Nate’s dealing with. This wasn’t a particularly easy run in for either of them, but it’s almost refreshing in a way? She doesn’t care about the buddies he’s spending his time with, she would’ve asked if she did, but it’s obviously important to Nate she know, and she doesn’t want to read too much into that. Maybe he wants her to know he’s not spending time with another girl, and she hates that part of her is hopeful because of that but it’s not fair to be. She can’t expect him to stay single forever, simply because being here and seeing him has every feeling she’s ever felt for him rushing back.

“Sounds like you’ve been busy,” she laughs. “I’m really glad I ran into you.” There’s a surprising amount of truth to that. God, it’s been almost eight years since she’s seen Nate, even in passing, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t followed his career. She’s from Canada for Christ’s sake, of course she follows hockey.

“I am too,” Nate grins. “Hey, you should come by later. There’s a few people coming over, no one you hate,” he raised his eyebrows and she can’t help but laugh. “No expectations, just drinking and fun. It would be nice to catch up.”

Without hesitation, she’s blurting out, “I would love that.”

“Great!” Nate exclaims. She can practically see him center himself in that moment, try to keep it together.

“I’m staying at my parents’ house,” she offers. Though I would much rather be with you, her mind continues, and she shakes her head to try to clear it. “Are you still two doors down?”

Nate reaches a hand up, rubbing the back of his hand awkwardly. “Nah, I bought a house when I signed with the Avs. It’s a bigger one, out on Albany Terrace. I think you’ll like it.”

She smiles brightly. “I’m excited to see it.”

“Yeah?” Nate mutters.

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it.”

“I’ll text you the address,” he offers. “Guess that means you have to give me your number.”

___

She makes a substantial effort to not show up right at 8 pm. It’s difficult, as she’s been a compulsively early person her whole life, but this time it feels necessary to be “fashionably late”. It helps that she fusses with what to wear for over thirty minutes- this shouldn’t be a big deal, and she doesn’t want it to be, but that doesn’t change the anxiety that’s swelling in her chest. She tells herself this isn’t anything to stress, it’s just catching up with an old friend and if things are awkward, she can always leave. Still, as she pulls up to Nate’s house, she realizes there’s a part of her that’s a tiny bit excited.

She takes in a slow breath as she kills the engine, nodding to herself as she climbs out of the car and heads up the walkway. She’s clutching a bottle of Jack Daniels in her left hand, never showing up empty handed instilled in her at a young age. She rings the doorbell, glancing around curiously as she waits. Her heart is pounding, and she’s ready to turn and bolt back to her car when the door swings open.

Nate’s standing in front of her, a soft smile on his face. She lets her eyes sweep over him, admiring the beige cable knit sweater straining over his shoulders. He looks so relaxed, so incredibly casual. “Hey! So glad you made it. Come in.” He steps aside, closing the door behind her. “That a bottle of Jack?” She can’t do anything but nod, holding it out to him wordlessly. “You haven’t changed a bit,” he laughs. “Everyone’s in the living room. There’s food in the kitchen if you’re hungry.”

Nate leads the way through the house, stopping briefly in the living room on his way to the kitchen. “Hey guys!”

She peers around him, relieved to see there really wasn’t anyone she hated in attendance. Pete, who she's known her whole life and his girlfriend Hannah are first to greet her, ushering her to sit beside them.

“Hey squirt, it’s been ages,” Pete teases.

“You forget I’m older than you,” She laughs. “But yeah, it’s been a long time.”

“Where are you living now?” Hannah asks.

“Florida. Been there for almost five years.” She falls quiet then, eyes glancing at where Nate is still standing.

He fidgets, and clears his throat. “I’m gonna grab a drink.” With that, he disappears around the corner, and she’s left to slump into the couch.

For a while, she mostly listens to Pete talk about his job, or the crappy apartment Hannah’s parents are begging them to move out of. It’s only a matter of time until they end up engaged, she knows, and she’s happy they’ve found happiness. It does little to help her feel like less of a leper, though. As soon as she’s able to find a break in their one-sided conversation, she jumps on it, taking the opportunity to disappear into the kitchen. Nate’s on one of the other couches, talking to Andy about getting a Call of Duty game going, and that’ll be enough to keep him occupied for hours. No chance he’ll notice her absence until she can figure out what the hell she was thinking showing up here tonight.

She heads straight for the freezer when she enters the kitchen, pulling out the bottle of Jack, and grabbing a solo cup laid out on the counter. She drops a handful of ice into the cup, followed shortly after by a hefty pour of the dark liquid. She brings the cup to her lips after taking a long drink.

“Jack on the rocks, eh?” A voice behind her asks.

“‘Tis the damn season,” she mutters, turning to spot Sidney Crosby leaning against the doorframe. She raises her cup to him, taking another long drink.

He lets out a honking laugh, eyes sparkling. “It’s nice to see you again.”

She quirks an eyebrow, “didn’t really think you’d remember me, to be honest.” She had only encountered Sidney a handful of times, and she never thought she’d left much of an impression. Truth be told, she was always a little star struck around him- it was hard not to be.

He furrows his brow, frowning. “Come on, I met you a bunch of times when you lived in Pennsylvania. And Nate talked about you nonstop when you were-“ he trails off, shrugging.

“Pen pals?” She offers. She can tell Sidney doesn’t see it as bitter. There’s a sadness in her voice she probably won’t ever be able to shake when she’s talking about Nate.

He shakes his head, but doesn’t push her, thank god. Instead, he steps into the kitchen, pours himself a cup of Jack on rocks, and clinks his cup against hers. “Here’s to escaping hometowns,” he toasts.

She grins. She takes another long drink, frowning at her cup when she realizes it’s nearing empty. “I think I may get drunk tonight, Sidney.”

He offers her the bottle, “I’m with you. Let’s do it.”

Surprisingly enough, Sidney Crosby is the one to save her from the awkwardness of the evening. True to his word, he does stay in the kitchen and drink with her. They talk about everything from Sid’s most recent cup wins to why on earth she decided Florida was a good place for her to settle down. They tread very carefully on any conversation that can take a turn to Nate, and she’s thankful Sidney read the room. He’s quite fun to be around once you chip away the exterior and he lets his guard down. They relocate to the table in the corner, and keep the bottle of Jack between the two of them, both casually refilling their cups as the night wears on.

When the bottle is almost empty and she can feel her head swimming, she jumps at the sound of another person entering the kitchen. “Ah, this is where you’ve been hiding.” Nate takes the seat beside her at the table, his leg bumping against hers as he maneuvers his chair. “Should’ve known you’d ditch me for Crosby.”

Opposite them, Sidney snorts. “Nah, just needed a drinking buddy, is all.”

“Sid is surprisingly good at drinking Jack,” she offers.

“Yeah?” Nate grins. “Seems like you’re pretty good too. Have you eaten anything?”

She taps her finger against her lips, considering, before shaking her head dramatically. “Nope.”

“Maybe we should fix that...”

Again, she shakes her head. “No room for food. Just alcohol.”

Nate smiles at her, and even in the haze of the alcohol, she feels her heart warm. It’s that same fond smile she’d loved so much when they were together, and she knows she can’t let her mind run away from her, but at the moment, she can’t rationalize why that’s the case. “In that case, let me break out the good stuff.” He stands up, heading to the cabinet above his stove. There, he grabs a fancier looking bottle, a dark brown liquid sloshing around as he carries it over to the table. “Crown Royal XR, so you never forget where you came from.” He takes the liberty of pouring her and Sid a glass before fixing one for himself, and reclaiming his seat.

She sniffs the liquid in the cup, eyes widening. “Ooof.”

“Don’t quit on me now,” Sid goads. He nudges her with his elbow, giggling.

She shakes her head adamantly. “Momma didn’t raise a quitter,” she announces. She raises her glass, waiting as Nate and Sid follow suit. “Here’s to Cole Harbour’s golden boys.” She sees Nate roll his eyes, but he’s smiling when he brings his glass to his lips.

She takes a long drink, her tongue flicking out to lick her lips. “Oh, that is really smooth.”

“Everything’s better when it’s Canadian,” Sid pipes up.

She giggles at this, which makes Nate quirk an eyebrow. “There’s no arguing that point, Florida.”

“Come on, Florida isn’t that bad,” she insists.

Nate looks to Sid, then back to her, shrugging. “The fact that you have to say it that way doesn’t help your case.”

“It doesn’t snow there!”

“Boo,” Sid says.

“How do you even survive without hockey down there?” Nate adds.

“Shut up, there’s hockey! My friend Nick would argue Tampa is a huge hockey town. Wait- oh my god!” She cuts herself off, looking around excitedly. She pats the pockets of her pants, pulling a face when she can’t find her phone.

“What are you doing?” There’s a distinct amusement in Nate’s voice.

“Where’s my phone? I wanna FaceTime Nick. He always gives me shit about knowing y’all. He pretends he doesn’t believe me because he’s never met you, so somehow that means I haven’t? I don’t even know...”

“Nick your boyfriend?” Nate grumbles, voice low.

She just snorts out a laugh, and takes her phone when Sidney slides it over to her. She clicks around on it for a second, then the distinct sound of a FaceTime call fills the room. She drums her fingers against the table impatiently, eyes lighting up when the line clicks on.

“Hey!” An excited voice fills the room.

“Hey Nick! What’re you up to?” She keeps the phone close to her, keeping Nate and Sid out of the frame.

“Well, it’s almost one in the morning on winter break so obviously I’m drunk with Garrett.”

“Tell him I said hi,” she insists.

“Sure. What’re you doing?”

Her eyes light up again, and she grabs her glass excitedly. “I’m also drunk, but I wanted to show you who I happen to be drunk with.” She downs the rest of the liquid in her glass and slides her phone back farther on the table, angling the camera to capture all three of them in the frame. “I give you Nate MacKinnon and Sidney Crosby.”

“Holy shit. That’s- fucking hell, that’s actually Sidney Crosby!”

She chuckles, turning the phone to face Sid and he waves awkwardly. “I told you, you don’t grow up in Cole Harbour without knowing the pride and joy of the city.”

“But you said you’d only met him a few times! And Nate MacKinnon too, what the fuck...”

“In the flesh. Oh, and Nate wanted to know if you were my boyfriend before I called.” She peers over at him, watching his cheeks flush pink. He opens his mouth to protest, but Nick quickly cuts him off.

He laughs, shaking his head. “Just one of my best friends, dude. You have my blessing. I know she would love to date a hockey player.”

“Yeah? Good to know.” Nate smirks.

“On that note, we’re going back to drinking now. Just wanted to humble brag real quick.” She flashes a toothy grin. “I’ll make them get dinner next time they’re in Tampa. Maybe you and the whole crew can come along.”

“Yes, totally! Have fun! Merry Christmas!” She wishes him a Merry Christmas back, and she’s ending the call, she hears Nick muttering to Garrett: ‘yes that was Sidney fucking Crosby’. She drops her phone down onto the table then, glancing over at Nate expectantly.

“So that’s Nick, my not boyfriend. He’s a big Lightning fan, and he hates the Penguins.”

“Charming,” Sid laughs. “Seems nice though.”

“Nick’s the best,” she agrees. “He and Danielle get me through living in Florida.”

“Ah, so you do admit Florida sucks?” Nate presses. He offers her another drink, and she nods eagerly. When her glass is full, he raises his to her. “Fuck Florida.” She taps hers against his, smiling widely.

“Fuck Florida, indeed.”

___

Another hour slips by as the three of them sit in the kitchen. The rest of Nate’s house is quiet, save for the inevitable hockey talk they’ve slipped into. Nate’s sobered during their time sitting there, his attention focused mostly on her and her half hearted responses. Poor girl is exhausted.

“Time for me to head out,” Sidney mutters. He pushes his chair back from the table, clapping a hand on Nate’s shoulder. “Uber’s outside. Thanks for having me, Nate. Nice catching up with you.”

“Bye Sid!” she brightens up, waving her fingers as he giggles and heads out the door. “Then there were two.”

“Sure I can’t interest you in some food?” Nate offers.

She shakes her head adamantly, eyes glossy, head swimming. “No, I told you... no room for food.” She rests her arms on the table, dropping her head down on top of them and peering up at Nate curiously.

He chuckles, resting a hand on her elbow. “Okay, time to get you home.”

She pulls a face, nose scrunching up in disgust. “Naaaate,” she draws out, “no.”

“Come on,” he laughs. “I’ll even tuck you in.”

She narrows her eyes at him, still frowning, “you promise?”

“Cross my heart.” He offers her his hand as he stands, helping her to her feet as soon as she agrees. He hooks her arm through his when she sways, trying to keep her steady on her feet. “I’ve got you.”

It takes some maneuvering, and a lot of patience on Nate’s part, but eventually, he’s able to get her into the front seat of his truck. He buckles her seatbelt for her when he slides behind the wheel, starting the car as she starts complaining about how uncomfortable his seats are.

“Good thing your parents live less than three minutes from here, huh?” He teases. He glances at her out of the corner of his eye, seeing her head slumped back against the headrest.

She’s quiet for a long time, and he has to tear his eyes from the road to make sure she hasn’t fallen asleep. When he does, he catches her gaze. “Nathan?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.” She mumbles.

“You don-“

She shakes her head, eyes squeezed shut. “No, Nathan, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I walked out I just- fuck, I didn’t want to be a WAG. I didn’t want hockey above all else, always. It wasn’t fair for me to do that.”

He’s quiet, hand gripping the wheel a little tighter. “Well, it wasn’t fair of me to make you feel like that would be your reality.” He hesitates, taking a slow, deep breath. After a moment, he nods to himself. “We can call it even.”

He offers her a shy smile, and she can’t stop herself from returning it. She unhooks her seatbelt and slides closer to him on the bench, resting her head against his shoulder. “Deal. Thank you, Mack.”

___

When they arrive at her parents’ house, Nate kills the engine and lets out a sigh. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.” She groans, but sits up straight.

“Fine,” she grumbles. She pushes the door open hastily, climbing out and crosses her arms over her chest. Nate simply shakes his head, taking her arm again and leading her up the pathway carefully. He knows it’s icy, and the last thing they need is the both of them to eat shit.

As soon as they reach the front door, Nate shushes her, trying to remain as quiet as possible while he pulls out the spare key from beneath the mat. He’s done this countless times before, and truly, it never gets any easier.

“Mack, remember when you tried to sneak me in drunk right before you left for juniors?” She laughs. She just giggles even louder when he presses a finger to his lips, eyes pleading. “You always take care of me.”

“I know, shhhh. I always will. We’ve gotta get inside.” Moments later, Nate gets the door open, tugging her across the threshold. He pulls the door shut as quietly as possible before glancing up, spotting her parents in the living room, sitting on couches reading. “Hi guys,” he sighs.

“Nate,” her mom smiles. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too. Sorry about this.. She was drinking with Sid and I didn’t want her driving-“

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” she whines. “I’m perfectly fine, Nathan.”

Her dad gives him a knowing look, chuckling. “Thanks, son.”

“Lucky to have you around, Nate,” her mom adds. “You know the way.”

He nods, tugging on her arm to lead her up the stairs to her childhood bedroom. She grumbles the entire way, complaining about being “too tired to see” or “everything’s spinning, I’m going to die”. Nate can’t contain his laughter, which only seems to frustrate her more. She glares at him when she finally gets the door to her room open, kicking her shoes off by the door and flopping down onto her bed in a huff. “Who let me drink me so much,” she groans.

“That would be Sid,” Nate leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest.

“He’s an enabler.” She lifts her head up, peering at him thoughtfully. “I was afraid to talk to you tonight,” she admits. “And he supported my stupidity to try to make me feel better. At least his heart is in the right place.”

Nate’s brown furrows. “Why would you be afraid to talk to me?”

She pushes herself up into a seated position, crossing her legs underneath her. “A tiny screen’s the only place I see you now.” Her voice is low, eyes cast downward. “I don’t know what we have in common anymore, or if you’d even want to talk to me.”

“Hey,” Nate says, pushing himself off the doorframe and stepping into the room. Two strides bring him over to the bed, and he sits beside her, craning his neck down to catch her eye. “I asked you to come over because I did want to talk to you. Do.” He hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know why but I never expected to run into you, and when I did, all I could think about was reconnecting and... I don’t know, being friendly again? There’s a pretty big you shaped hole in my life.”

She looks at him, eyes sweeping over every last detail of his face. She wants to blame the alcohol for how attractive she finds him in that moment, but she knows she can’t. Nate has always been gorgeous, and their time growing, apart, has only increased that. “I’ve got a big Nate Mack hole too,” she admits.

Without wavering, he reaches out and rests his hand on hers, rubbing his thumb across the smooth skin there. “Tomorrow, then. I’m coming by with breakfast and we’re gonna play pond puck.”

She can’t help the groan that falls from her lips. “I’m going to be far too hungover to be on skates tomorrow.”

“Should’ve thought of that before you drank half a bottle of Jack,” he grins. “Night.”

___

True to his word, Nate does come by first thing in the morning. She crawls out of bed at the sound of laughter down the stairs, wincing when the light hits her eyes. She manages to pull herself together to look somewhat presentable, though her headache is enough to have her debating hiding under the covers for the day.

“Oh, look who’s up!” Her dad teases. He’s sitting opposite Nate at the kitchen table, reading the paper like this is the most normal thing in the world.

“Morning sleeping beauty,” Nate laughs. “I brought Timmies.”

“Black?” She mutters, reaching for the cup gratefully. He nods. “Not iced, but I guess I’ll live. Thanks.”

Nate rolls his eyes, bringing his own cup to his lips and taking a long drink. “We gotta get you out of America. Not iced, pft,” he scoffs.

“Nate’s got a point, kid. You’re barely a Canadian anymore.”

She gives him a pointed look. “I didn’t hear you and mom complaining in Florida in January last year.”

Her dad grins. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

“Yeah, sure,” she smiles.

“You hungry at all?” Nate asks.

“Just coffee for me,” she raises her cup to him.

“Alright. Should we get going then?”

“A heroic return to my pond puck career,” she jokes. “Should be great with this hangover.”

Her dad laughs loudly, shaking his head. “Don’t let her fall through the ice, Nate.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He flashes a winning smile as he gestures for her to head out the door in front of him. “Your dad was thrilled to help me find your old skates in the garage this morning,” he tells her as they climb into his truck.

She rests her head against the cold window, eyes shut. “Of course he was.”

“It was nice to see them again,” he says quietly. “I always really liked your parents.”

“Good thing, they love you.” And it’s completely true. To this day, her mother still asks her about Nate. What’s he up to, if he’s seeing anyone... it would be sweet if it wasn’t so painful for her to have to relive every time she brings it up. Her dad is thankfully more subtle- they really only talk about Nate when hockey comes up. Of course they both keep tabs on the Avs, and it’s a common ground that is far more exhaustive than her job that her dad doesn’t really understand anyway. All in all, yes, her parents do love Nate, which made their break up that much harder.

Nate doesn’t respond; her words linger in the air like a bad perfume. There’s a kind of expectation to them, a dare to explore what that means and how it makes either of them feel. Thankfully, Nate pulls his truck off the road before they have to broach the subject. Just ahead of them, there’s a frozen pond, a couple of trash cans tipped over on either side to use as makeshift goals. It’s the same pond they’d played on as kids, hours spent skating and laughing together. It brings back a melancholic feeling, one that seems to sit in her chest when she follows Nate’s lead and climbs out of the car. He hands her her skates and a stick when they start walking, eyes focused on the snow beneath their feet.

She laces up her skates silently, glancing over at Nate every so often. He looks like he wants to say something, but just isn’t sure where to begin. She tries no to dwell on it, and instead let herself have a good time today. It’s been a long time since she’s had the chance to skate.

She uses the stick Nate handed her to help stand and steps out onto the ice, skates wobbling as she tries to get her bearings.

“Looking a little rusty there, Gretz,” Nate teases.

“Oh shut up,” she groans. It takes her a minute, but before long, she finds her comfort on skates again. It’s second nature, something she knows she will never forget how to do. “It’s just been a while.”

“Nowhere to skate in the sunshine state, eh?” He skates around her in a circle, turning around and skating backwards so he can face her. “What could possibly make you want to stay there?”

She gives a half shrug. “My life is there.”

Nate nods. “Right. Your job, your not boyfriend...” The smile on his face suggests he’s kidding, but she can see something behind his eyes.

“Nate...” there’s a warning in her voice.

He holds a hand up in defense. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it, I just... what do you?”

“I’m a counselor,” she tells him. She chuckles when he purses his lips, clearly having no idea what that entails. “It’s supposed to be a mental health professional in the schools - someone to help students short term, refer out for bigger issues, teach social emotional skills. I’m just a glorified secretary at this point.”

He narrows his eyes, considering her. “I don’t believe that. You’re too good.”

She lets out a long sigh. “No, it’s true. Nothing I do actually helps anyone, and the one girl I did have a good relationship with, I was too busy to help this year. So she’ll never come back to talk to me now. I’m always a month behind and I don’t know-“ she lets her voice trail off, feeling her eyes sting as they fill with tears. It never hits her like this until she says it out loud, but it’s so alarming to lose your passion. She’s content, but she’s not happy, and it’s hard to feel like she didn’t make a huge mistake with her choices in life.

Nate stops suddenly, causing her to slam right into him. He reaches out and grabs her shoulders, keeping her upright. “Hey,” he coos, “I’m sure she’ll come back to talk to you. This year is unlike anything anyone has ever seen. I’m sure a lot of this is stress.”

This seems to open the flood gates, and against her better judgment, she feels hot tears start streaming down her cheeks. It only makes her cheeks more cold, and she curses under her breath. “I think I messed up, Nate. Florida, counseling, what if it was all a mistake?” She shakes her head, dropping it down to stare at their feet.

Nate reaches out, tilting her chin up with one finger. “Then you make a change. Find out how to be happy again, and go after it.” His hand slides up to cup her cheek, warm fingers wiping away her tears. “You’re incredible. If you made a mistake, that’s fine. Regroup, move past it.”

Her breath hitches, eyes locking with his. She can feel a smile tugging at her lips, her heart warming at his words. It’s an incredible feeling to be validated like this, to know her concerns aren’t ridiculous and she’s not an utter failure for rethinking every decision that’s brought her to this point. It’s tenfold now, standing so close to Nate, her heart beating wildly in her chest. “Nate, I-“

“I believe in second chances,” he tells her. His voice is barely above a whisper now, the rasp sending a tingle up her spine. She can hear the unspoken words behind it, I believe in you, and I believe in us. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but with the way he’s looking at her right now, it’s hard to take it any other way. Maybe she could let herself do this - love again, put her faith in him.

There’s nothing she wants more than to be able to give in, melt into his arms and tell him it was all wrong, but they can fix it now. With his bright blue eyes shining the way they are, she even lets part of herself believe that.

It’s the other, realistic part of her that holds her back. The what ifs and rational thinking of distance and time zones and years past rearing their ugly head. The fear of getting hurt again, or hurting him. There’s just too much to consider, too many sacrifices to ask of any one person.

“I want to believe in them too,” she admits. “But-”

Her eyes tell him everything she’s too afraid to. He inhales sharply, nodding once. “I understand. I won’t push you.” His fingertips brush across her cheeks gently before he drops his hand to his side. A sad sigh falls past his lips, and before he can move to skate away, she’s grabbing his forearm and gripping it tightly.

“We’ll play for it,” she blurts, mostly in an attempt to keep him from walking away.

Nate’s eyes snap up. “What are you talking about?”

“We’ll play each other. Pond puck. And I’ll be yours for the weekend.”

“If who wins?”

“Either of us.” Her hesitance is clear as day on her face, the anxiety swirling in her stomach. Maybe she’s being ridiculous, childlike even, but this is the only way she can give her heart what it wants without giving up her entire life. Albeit how appealing that road looks at the moment.

Gaze narrowing, he purses his lips in consideration. “You’re saying no strings?”

She nods, “I’m saying I won’t ask you to wait for me, if you don’t ask me to stay.”

“So a one night stand?”

Her head shakes slowly, teeth worrying at her lower lip. “No. I want the weekend with you in our own little bubble. I want to ignore reality and just… be.”

“I think we need terms for this,” Nate says. “What’s off limits, what isn’t.”

“Of course,” she agrees. “What you’re comfortable with.”

“If you win, big if, I’m yours for the weekend. You can call the shots; anything you want to do. Fair?” When she agrees, he cracks a small smile. “Great. When I win, you’re mine for the weekend. I’ll call the shots.”

“Sounds reasonable-”

“One more thing,” he cuts in. “You can’t break my heart.”

His words hang heavy between them, shifting the atmosphere. This feels like a contingency meant for more than just the weekend. It makes her chest ache to think about it, but Nate’s speaking again before she can get a word in edgewise. “Alright,” he pulls a puck out of his back pocket, holding it out between them. “First to three, yeah?”

He’s courteous enough to wait for her to get her bearings, both hands on her stick, knees bent, before he drops the puck between them. He taps it a few times with his stick, moving in slow circles. He pauses when they’re face to face again, leaning forward. “I’ll let you have first go.”

“Don’t go easy on me, Dogg,” she teases. “I’m tough. I can take it.” She mirrors his stance, leaning over the puck with her hands spread wide on the stick.

“Game on, babe.” She sweeps her stick over his, cursing under breath when he swipes the puck away from her. He carries it on his stick across the ice, avoiding her attempted checks and steals as he goes. Eventually, she abandons that tactic, instead racing ahead of him and turning to defend the “goal”. She keeps her stick down, watching his eyes to try to read his play. He fakes left, moves right, stopping on a dime as he throws ice across her shins. She blinks and the puck is slamming around in the can, Nate throwing his arms in celebration.

“One down,” he gloats.

She rolls her eyes, flicking the puck out at him. It skids to a stop in front of his skates, and she heads back to center ice, knowing he won’t be far behind. By some miracle, she’s able to gain possession of the puck in the faceoff, doing her best to get a jump on him and head down the ice. In an instant, he’s right behind her, stick held out in front of her, attempting to poke check it away. When she shifts, Nate checks into her from the side, nearly sending her tumbling on the ice. “Okay Mr. Lady Byng,” she laughs.

Nate simply grins at her, taking off after the puck and keeping it a distance away from her ahead of him. Effortlessly, he sends the puck sailing into the trash can, turning around to face her with an even cockier grin. “Not looking too good for you.”

“You’re a cheater,” she mumbles, retrieving the puck and gliding over to center ice. She keeps it in her hand as Nate eyes her, his gaze dragging slowly from her skates to the top of her head. “What?”

He shakes his head, jutting his chin out. “I don’t cheat.” He hunches over his stick, waiting for her to crouch into the same position and drop the puck. The intensity that emanates from him is palpable, his bated breath, clenched teeth only adding to the stakes. When the puck falls from her hand, it’s like time slows down. There’s a frigid breeze across her cheeks, blowing her hair back over her shoulders - the puck clattering against the ice once, twice, before it’s flat and they’re both springing into action. Their sticks collide as they sweep them, neither making contact with the puck at first.

It’s Nate who comes up victorious from the faceoff, stickhandling it until he’s able to turn his back to her. She knows he’s far too advanced for her to out play - his skills are unmatched, so she opts for playing a little dirty, using her own skills to her advantage. When Nate fakes and moves left, she positions herself there, right in front of him. All the air whooshes out of her as they collide, his shoulder pressed against her chest. The startled expression on his face makes her crack a grin, and he’s distracted enough by the move to let her gain possession. Once it’s on her stick, she takes off down the ice in the other direction, keeping the puck out in front of her. She can feel Nate hot on her tail, attempting to swat the puck free, knock her off balance. Her eyes stay fixed to the trash can, and she doesn’t hesitate - just slaps the puck as hard as she can. The bang that rings out echoes through the quiet, and she glances over her shoulder, flashing Nate a triumphant smile.

“Two-one now,” she points out. It’s a ridiculous thing to try to boast about, but it very clearly pushes Nate’s buttons. She’s never known a single person to be more competitive, and it’s admittedly fun to draw that side out of him every now and again.

She can tell she’s struck the nerve when Nate gets huffy, his nostrils flaring as he rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles. “Just get ready for the faceoff.” He reaches down to scoop the puck out of the can, quickly following her back to center ice and watching her get situated. Seconds pass in silence until they’re both ready, and Nate drops the puck.

It’s a hard-fought battle from the moment the puck hits the ice. Nate jumps into action, immediately getting his blade down, trying to gain control. But she doesn’t concede to him as easily this time. She bends her knees a little further, using her body to shove against his side, trying to throw him off. When he chances a look at her, she swats at the puck, nearly situating it on her own stick. Nate chuckles, shifts his weight to his other foot, and steals the puck back. The movement throws her a little off balance, and she reaches out for him on instinct, hand gripping the fabric covering his shoulder tightly. She tugs at it to keep herself upright, ignoring his half hearted scoff when it knocks him away from the puck slightly. Within seconds he rights himself, tearing down the ice toward the goal. He’s impossibly fast, and she knows there’s no catching up to him, so the resounding “clang” of the puck hitting the metal comes as no surprise.

When she lifts her gaze, she immediately spots a grinning Nate skating over to her. The corners of his eyes crinkle in delight. “That’s game,” he breathes as he skids to a stop, throwing snow across her shins. Breath hitching as she draws her eyes up to his face, she notices Nate is so close. Closer than he’s been to her in years, and heart is pounding in her chest. With a clatter, he drops his stick to the ice, tossing his gloves down beside it. Now bare-handed, he reaches up, brushing her hair back off her shoulder. The cold air bites against the skin of her cheek for just a moment before his hand is there, big and warm and so soft. “I call the shots, right?” His voice is barely above a whisper, but her eyes are zeroed in on his lips. His tongue flicks out to wet them after a brief nod of her head, and something in her brain short circuits. Drawing in a shaky breath, she holds it as Nate leans in, lips brushing against hers gently, tentative. On their own accord, her hands are flying up to grip his shoulders, her legs suddenly weak.

The kiss is over almost as soon as it’s started, and it leaves her breathless, eyes blinking open slowly. All she can focus on is the small smile that appears on Nate’s lips, and the deep blue of his eyes.

“Do you have plans later?” Nate mutters.

“No.”

There’s that blinding grin again. “Good.” He leans in, pressing a soft little kiss to the side of her mouth, barely inches from her parted lips. “I’m picking you up at seven.”

___

“Where are we going Nate?” She asks, eyes narrowed. They’re sitting side by side in his truck, driving mostly in silence to their unknown destination. His earlier text was cryptic, merely telling her to dress warmly with a smiley emoji. It’s out of character for him, but mostly she’s surprised he seems to want to be spending time outside. In December. In Canada. Sure it’s been warmer than in past years, but when the sun drops, they’re lucky to be breaking twenty degrees Fahrenheit.

“It’s a surprise,” he says. A small smirk dances across his lips, eyes seeming to sparkle with mischief. He knows how much she hates not knowing, but she understands he’s trying to do something fun too. So she sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, shifting her focus to the road in front of them. “You’ll like it,” he promises. There’s the tiniest hint of uncertainty there, a hesitation that tells her he’s just as nervous and confused about everything as she is. Do they know what the other likes anymore? How much has changed?

“I’m sure I will,” she insists.

They drive in comfortable silence, the low hum of Nate’s truck the only sound filling the air. When she chances a glance at him, she’s met with his calm expression, the familiar curve of his nose, his pursed lips. His concentration is clear as day, and she can’t quite place why it’s so endearing.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have much time to dwell on it. He drives about twenty feet more before he’s pulling off the main road. Immediately, they’re both bouncing on their seats, the uneven terrain jerking them back and forth. Just as she opens her mouth to ask him what’s happening, Nate puts the car in park and kills the engine. Wordlessly, he opens his door, stepping around the truck quickly to pull hers open for her. He holds a hand out to her to help her step down, and keeps a firm hold on it when she’s safely on the ground.

“Nate?” She says finally, head cocked in confusion. They’re parked in the middle of an open field, nothing but trees and the setting sun around them. It’ll be dark soon, and she’s not exactly sure what she should be expecting. “What-“

“Trust me,” he cuts in. He smiles at her when she nods, then leads her toward the back of his truck. He lowers the tailgate with his free hand, then reaches for a handle on the cover. His grip finally drops as he clicks the handle into place and walks the cover back toward the cab. Inside it, pillows and blankets cover the bed of the truck, a Yeti cooler stashed into the corner. When she catches his eye again, he’s sheepish, a bashful smile on his face. “I thought it’d be nice to just sit under the stars for a while.”

“Nathan…” it comes out in a sigh, and she’s thankful for the darkening sky that’s hiding her growing smile. She knows it’ll instantly give away how smitten she is, and that’s a conversation she’s not quite ready to have yet.

“Is it okay?” The hesitation in his voice has her jumping to reassure him.

“Yes, yes it’s perfect,” she rushes.

He dips his chin in a nod. “Let’s get you up then.” He doesn’t wait for her to respond, or really even process his comment before he steps over to her, lifting her easily around the waist and hoisting her up. As soon as her feet are planted in his truck, he gives her a little nudge forward, and climbs in after her. “Sit, make yourself comfortable,” he insists. He busies himself pulling out a flashlight, flicking it on and sitting it in the middle of the truck bed. Next, he’s grabbing food out of his cooler, placing them gingerly beside the flashlight. She merely watches in awe as item after item is taken out: plates, forks, glasses, crackers, cheese, wine, fruits. He’d thought of everything.

“It’s not a meal,” he reasons, “but I figured it’s better than nothing.” He produces a corkscrew from his pocket, then sets in on getting the wine bottle open.

“Nate, it’s wonderful,” she insists. She takes the stemless wine glass as he hands it to her, smiling softly. “Though I’m a little surprised to see you willingly eating carbs and drinking alcohol.” She cracks a grin when he rolls his eyes, making a show of bringing his glass up and taking a large gulp.

“Et tu?” Nate groans, dragging his free hand through his hair.

“I’m just messing with you.”

“You’ve read all the articles, then? Keeping tabs on me?” He lifts his eyebrows suggestively.

“Something like that.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Nathan.” Her expression is hard, a no nonsense frown on her face. “You do not disappoint anyone.”

He sighs, and passes her a plate of various snacks, keeping his eyes on his hands. “I don’t know how true that is.”

“I do. You’re being hard on yourself.”

He considers for a moment, shrugging. “Maybe. But I need to be. It keeps me disciplined.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes before popping a cut piece of fruit into her mouth. “I don’t think you need help in that department.”

“I started seeing a sports psychologist,” he mumbles. It catches her off guard, his admission, but it fills her with pride all the same. The Nate she knew before never would’ve taken that step, and he certainly wouldn’t have told anyone about it. That’s growth.

“How’s that been?”

“I like it. Kinda helps me take a step back from things and visualize what I want and how to get there.” He hesitates, opening his mouth before closing it quickly.

“Sounds like there’s a but there?”

“But I don’t know that it's enough.”

“In what way? Like you need more help with your mental health?”

He scrunches his nose. “No, I guess with hockey and stuff. It just-“ he cuts himself off with a sigh. “It feels like I’ve put in the work, and have gotten no results.”

“Because you haven’t won shit?” She offers. She cracks a grin when Nate looks up at her, expression blank. This only serves to make her giggle, and as much as she wants to blame it on the wine, she knows it’s the way Nate shakes his head and cracks a grin right alongside her.

“I haven’t won shit,” he agrees.

“You will.”

“You sound so sure.”

“Because I am.”

“Why?”

She brings her glass up, polishing off the rest of her drink and then sets the glass down. Hesitantly, she scoots forward a bit more, until her knees bump against his. His eyes draw up to hers slowly, the icy blue stealing the breath from her lungs. “Because I know you, Nathan. And you were born to do this.”

“It’s really not feeling like it these days.” There’s so much defeat in his voice it makes her chest tighten. On a whim, she reaches over and takes his hand, rubbing her thumb over his wrist slowly. “Feels more like I can’t do anything right.”

She wants desperately to reassure him, tell him his mind is wrong and playing tricks on him but she knows that isn’t what he needs. He has to navigate this himself. She can offer him support, but this is something he has to figure out on his own.

“I went first overall, I should be doing more for the team. It’s just been first or second round exits year after year. I can’t get us out of this hole.”

“It isn’t only up to you,” she reminds him. “If you feel you’re not playing up to your standards that’s one thing, but you can’t play every position. It’s not fair to entirely blame yourself.”

“Maybe not,” he shrugs. “Maybe I made a mistake with all of this.”

She frowns, eyes narrowing. “With hockey?”

He nods. “Hockey, life. I don’t know. What if I chose wrong?”

“Well, you’re preaching to the choir on that bud,” she says. She hesitates a moment, gathering herself. “For what it’s worth, I know you didn’t choose wrong. Things have been a bit bleak, sure, but you are far too talented to not share that gift with the world.”

Nate’s gaze catches hers, and she feels a shiver travel up her spine. When concern floods his features, she knows he’s felt it too. “You cold? C’mere.” He gives her no time to respond, just leans himself back against the pillows and reaches for a blanket. Once it’s situated over him, he pulls her in close against his side until her cheek is against his chest and his arm is around her back. The blanket gets tugged up to cover her too, and they lay together, cocooned in the blankets under the stars.

“Better?” Nate rasps, and truly, yes. This has made things better. Being so close to him, warm and safe - this is the first time she’s been able to take a deep breath in a long time. But she can’t admit that to him. So she gives a soft murmur in agreement and shuts her eyes to commit this moment to memory.

“I’m proud of you Nate,” she says eventually. “I know that doesn’t really help with all this, but I’m not the only one, ya know? We’re all rooting for you.” She tilts her head up, staring straight into his eyes. It makes her lose her breath, especially when he gives her a small smile.

“I appreciate how much you believe in me,” he whispers. “It does help.” He draws his fingers up slowly, tickling them against the exposed skin where her sweatshirt has ridden up. It forms goosebumps immediately, and she cuddles in even closer, out of instinct. “Being here has been like coming up for air.” He sighs, eyes softening even further. “And seeing you-“

“Nate-“

“Don’t,” he rushes. “We have an agreement, right? You’re mine for the weekend?” The hopeful expression on his face guts her, but she nods. She is. For the weekend.

“Yes,” she agrees. She tilts her chin up far enough for her nose to bump against his jaw, nuzzling it. “I don’t wanna think about after.”

“Then don’t.” He cranes his neck further, until their breath mixes. “Just be here with me.” Gently, so gently, he kisses her. It’s just a tentative brush at first, but it sets her body on fire. Within seconds, she’s hauling herself even closer to him, dropping her body over his as she deepens the kiss. She feels Nate’s big hands come up to grip her hips, keeping her close.

It’s not desperate and frenzied, but it still has her heart racing. The sweep of his tongue across the seam of her lips has her sighing, melting into him. It’s comfortable, warm and familiar, like coming home. She knows she can’t dwell on that thought, so she pours everything she can into Nate instead. Kisses him breathless, then comes back for more.

When Nate breaks away, he lets his head fall back to the pillows, a tiny grin on his face. “I’ve missed this, babe. Missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Nate.” She admits, to herself just as much as she does him. It feels monumental to do so, but she lets herself have this moment; snuggles closer into Nate’s arms and kisses his neck. They have the weekend, and she’s not going to ruin that.

Reality starts to feel a bit distorted after laying with Nate in his truck. In a way, it feels like they’re existing inside a bubble - one that gives them a taste of the road not taken. It’s addicting, with the potential to be heart wrenchingly painful if she’s not careful. But part of her knew she’d end up here. Her and Nate had been so strong before fear crept into her mind. The problem now is figuring out how, if at all, this influences her real life that she’ll be getting back to sooner rather than later.

And Nate, bless his heart, seemed to be doing everything in his power to make this as hard as possible for her. He’d taken the “I call the shots” agreement to heart, planning the entire next day for them to spend together. He arrives at her house thankfully much later in the morning than the day prior, with iced Timmy’s in tow. He leaves a dozen doughnuts and two extra coffees on the counter for her parents, flashing that heart melting smile when she insists he didn’t have to go to the trouble.

“It’s no trouble,” he insists as they’re climbing into his truck. He immediately reaches to crank the heat for her, tugging his seatbelt across his body.

“Well thank you,” she says. “What’s on the docket today?”

He eases the truck out onto the road, his tongue poking out between his lips in concentration. Only when they’re settled into the lane does Nate glance over at her. “Thought we’d drive down to Peggy’s Cove. Walk around a little bit. See the lighthouse?”

Her face lights up at the mere mention. Peggy’s Cove is about an hour from Cole Harbour, and it’s always been one of her favorite day trips. There’s something so wonderfully calming about the shoreline, at any time of year. “Sounds good to me,” she says.

She’s pleased to find how at ease she feels beside Nate on the drive down. They happily flick through radio stations, singing along completely off key. Her cheeks start to hurt from the wide smile she can’t seem to wipe off her face, all thanks to Nate. And god, what a thought that is. She’d certainly never entertained the idea of meeting up with Nate at home, nor did she think she’d find herself riding around in his truck. It feels like an alternate reality and surprisingly, the thought doesn’t put a damper on her mood. It just makes her enjoy it all the more.

Before long, Nate is pulling into a deserted parking lot along the shore. He kills the engine then looks over at her, smiling softly. “Shall we?” When she nods, Nate climbs out of the truck and races around to grab her door for her.

It’s a stunningly beautiful day, but it's freezing, even bundled up against the cold. Despite her tightly wound scarf the wind nips her cheeks harshly as soon as she closes his door. In front of them, waves are crashing against the covered rocks, a soothing symphony filling the air. There's chunks of ice floating in the water, and she shakes her head at just how picture-esque it all is. A rare blue sky day in late December, the sun breaking through the small clouds, its rays reflecting off the snow on the rocks.

Nate turns to her, offering his hand and she takes it without hesitation. His gloved fingers wrap firmly around hers, and they start to slowly walk toward, squinting to see.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been down here,” she admits. “I don’t know how I forgot how beautiful it is.”

“I’ve always loved it here,” Nate says. She glances at him, sees his pink cheeks, his hair blowing in every direction. It makes something in her chest tighten, and she squeezes his hand a little tighter. They make their way closer to the lighthouse silently, simply taking it all in.

As they approach the darker rocks, Nate stops suddenly, tugging her into him. His arms go around her shoulders, keeping her close. “This okay?” He whispers.

“Yes,” she breathes. More than okay, she wants to say. It’s touching really, that he’d drive all this way just to stand there with her and stare at a lighthouse. It’s reminiscent of the early days in their relationship, before the drama and the uncertainty, when all they needed was to be together. “Thanks for bringing me Nate.”

He hums, his cheek pressing against the side of her head. “Thanks for wanting to be here.”

She can feel that his words have a much deeper meaning behind them, though she chooses to take them at face value. It's clear they’re going to continue to dance around the obvious, even if it’s rehashing something they’d already settled on. It’s just for the weekend; there’s no realistic way it could be more and they can’t put that kind of pressure on each other. But even though all of this is true, it doesn’t change the way being with him makes her feel. It doesn’t take the warmth out of his smile, or the fondness from his eyes. So maybe she is breaking her own heart here, but what other choice does she have?

***

She and Nate spend much of their day wandering through the small fishing village. They stroll down the boardwalk, through small boutiques and touristy souvenir shops. Nate happily walks through every single open door, stopping to sign an autograph or take a photo every now and then when they happen upon another person. He has no qualms about waiting for her to browse in the bookshop, instead spending his time posted up on a comfortable chair, petting the store cat with a smile on his face.

After a late lunch at the only restaurant in town, they get back on the road, headed for Cole Harbour. Conversation in the car is light and casual, both just catching the other up on life’s nuances they haven’t been privy to in years. It’s more than just work: it’s the song that made Nate cry because it reminded him of leaving for the US when he was just a child, it’s the countless seafood meals she’s turned down in her adult life because nothing can compare to the luxuries of home. The conversation never lulls, though it does veer significantly off course when they spot the ‘welcome to Cole Harbour’ sign approaching in the distance.

“Nate, pull over!” She insists. She’s digging through her bag, ignoring his request for an explanation. After a few seconds, she emerges victorious, holding up a black marker and a piece of paper. She smoothes it out as best she can on his dashboard, then unhooks her seatbelt. “Do you have any tape?”

“What do you need tape for?” Nate asks. He earns himself a pointed look, one that says ‘don’t ask questions’. He sighs, then flips open the center console. “I think I have some stick tape lying around…”

While he tracks that down, she gets to work writing, keeping her arm strategically placed so he can’t glance over her shoulder to sneak a peek. Just a few seconds later, he’s setting the tape down next to her hand and looking at her expectantly. “What are you doing?”

“You’ll see,” she grins. She picks up her sign and the tape, opens the door to his truck and hops down onto the road. It's not very busy, thankfully, but Nate is immediately concerned all the same.

He calls out her name, quickly following after her as she walks. “You can’t just get out of the car on a main road and walk away,” he insists, but she’s not listening to him. She’s still making her way forward, toward the welcome sign and the townline. Once she’s standing in front of it, he watches as she pulls up the tape, ripping it with her teeth. The piece of paper is held against the welcome sign, then secured with tape, and she steps back with a satisfied smile on her face. The writing doesn’t become clear until Nate is standing beside her, and once it does, he bursts into laughter.

Attached to the bottom of the sign, where it reads ‘Home of Sidney Crosby’, she’d taped up her own: “and Nathan MacKinnnon”.

“I’ll have to get a proper one commissioned, but I thought this would do for now,” she grins. As she locks eyes with Nate, she feels her heart start racing. He seems happy, but she doesn’t want to assume he’s not just saving face and she’s made him uncomfortable.

Wordlessly, he closes the space between them, gathering her into his arms. “You’re just- you’re so wonderful.” He doesn’t give her the time to respond, just leans in and kisses her, hard and long. It sets her world on end, she gasps for air when he pulls away.

“Nate-“

“You wanna come to my place?” He asks against her lips, eyes hooded. A brief nod is all that’s needed to get him moving, guiding her back to his truck and opening the door for her.

___

Her hands are trembling when they pull up to Nate’s house. Nate grins at her, taking her hand over the shifter once he parks. He brings it to his lips and kisses it softly. There’s an unspoken understanding in the air, tension hanging between them. “Hey,” he whispers, trying to catch her eye. “You alright?”

Her voice is so soft when she speaks that Nate almost misses it. “I’m nervous,” she admits. “It’s been such a long time and I really want this to be good for you-“

Nate cuts in, brow furrowed. “Look at me.” He waits until she draws her eyes up to continue. “It’s okay to be nervous. I’m a little nervous, but please, don’t feel like you have to do this.”

“I don’t. I mean, I do want to,” she interjects. “I just- what if it’s not… good?”

He actually snorts when he hears this. He’s under no impression they’ve lost that spark over the years. It’s always been good, and he knows it will continue to be. But the hesitance on her face is suggesting she’s not thinking the same way he is. “It’s going to be incredible,” he insists. “Just like it always was.”

“We were kids, Nate. I’m worried it won’t be.” She takes in a deep breath, shaking her head. “I’m worried I won’t be any good.”

He drops her hand, turning in his seat until he’s able to cup both of her cheeks. Then he draws her head up until she’s looking at him again. “You are the most beautiful woman I know, and you’ve been driving me crazy since the day I saw you in the grocery store. I know you’re going to blow my mind.” She hesitates for a moment, but then she’s nodding as best she can with the way he’s holding her. “If you’re not ready, we can wait.”

“No,” she says adamantly. “I’m done waiting.”

This is all the confirmation that Nate needs. He keeps his hands firmly planted on her cheeks and leans in, kissing her hungrily. He slides his tongue into her mouth, groaning when he feels her fingers crawl up to grip his hair tightly. She leans even closer to him, pressing her chest against his, letting him feel every inch of her torso. His eyes are half lidded when he breaks away, tongue flicking out to wet his lips.

Her eyes blink open, and Nate’s smiling softly at her. His eyes are soft, filled with longing, and her stomach is doing flips. It’s tenfold when he climbs out of the driver’s seat, coming around to take her hand and help her step down. He laces their fingers, leading her up the short pathway and in the front door. They shed their shoes and their cold weather gear there, tossing it unceremoniously toward the built in to the right. They’ll deal with the mess later.

“Do you need anything?” His voice is low, raspy, and she’s shaking her head immediately. She’s of a one track mind now, and it seems that Nate picks up on that. He takes the initiative to walk her up the stairs, straight to his bedroom.

“Can I touch you?” He whispers. He rests his hands on her waist, lingering at the hem of her soft t-shirt. When he sees her nod, it’s up and over her head in a hurry, exposing her smooth skin. Nate’s eyes greedily take in every inch of her chest, and she’s surprised she doesn’t feel the urge to cover herself.

She feels a surge of confidence shoot through her; the way Nate is looking at her fueling her ego. It makes her bold, and she pushes back on his shoulders until he’s stepping backwards, and eventually, falling onto the bed. Then, she climbs into his lap, her hair falling around them like a curtain when she leans down over him. “Are you just going to look?” She asks, and the challenge in her voice ignites something inside Nate.

Before she can blink, she finds herself on her back with Nate crawling over her. He reaches up and tugs off his shirt, smirking at her sharp intake of breath. He doesn’t take much time to gloat, choosing instead to draw her in for another kiss. His hands make quick work of her bra, tossing it across the room carelessly. His lips trail down her chest, mouthing at the supple flesh, and swirling his tongue around her nipples. He revels in the breathy sounds falling from her lips when he bares his teeth.

“Nathan, please touch me,” she whines. She wriggles underneath him, trying to draw him up, get his mouth back on hers.

“Patience, my girl,” he mumbles. He kisses the tip of her nose before he sits back, eyes taking in her form. Her hair is splayed out across the bed, cheeks flushed, and pupils blown wide. He slides his fingertips over the red marks he’d left on her breasts, dragging the rough pads down until they’re toying with the waistband of her pants. He glances up at her again, eyebrows lifted to check in, make sure this is still what she wants. He earns himself a frustrated groan and a “come on, Nate”, which he takes as the green light. He slides everything down in one move, leaving her completely bare to him. “God, look at you,” he breathes. He pushes her legs open wider to accommodate the bulk of his shoulders before he drops down onto his stomach. His eyes never leave hers as he leans in close, kissing up her thighs until he’s inches away from her throbbing center.

She tosses her head back, squeezing her eyes shut to try to regain control of herself. Her body is thrumming with anticipation, desperate for Nate to do anything. After a few seconds, she’s rewarded for her patience. Nate licks a long strip up from her entrance to her clit, chuckling against her when she gasps. Immediately, her hands fly to his hair, fingers gripping tightly. Nate flicks his tongue expertly against her before drawing her clit between his lips and sucking. She feels him ghosting his fingers over her lips, the soft tickle making her toes curl. She lets out a moan, and that’s all it takes to get Nate to dive in. He slips two fingers into her dripping entrance, scissoring against the tight suck of her walls.

“Nathan,” she pants, back arching. He’s nibbling on her clit as he seeks that spot inside of her, pumping his fingers in and out quickly. She cries out when he finds it, and Nate presses down hard, keeping his fingers firmly against it while she thrashes against the bed.

She’s sure her grip on his hair has to be painful at this point, but she’s too far gone to care. All she can focus on is the blinding pleasure Nate is giving her. She can feel that coil tightening inside of her, her body wound so tightly she’ll snap back at any given second. When he sucks on her again, she snaps, trapping his face between her legs as she comes, thighs tightening around his head.

Nate keeps his fingers working inside of her as she starts to come down, her breath slowing, though not entirely coming back to her. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he climbs up to his knees, grinning wickedly. “Such a good girl for me,” he coos.

She’s having a hard time replying to him. She can’t get a sentence out, moans tumbling past her lips whenever she opens her mouth. Nate is prolonging her orgasm, keeping her suspended up on cloud nine as he watches her, eyes hungry. “I’ve imagined this so many times,” he admits. “Over the years, when I’m on the road late at night. I love to picture you wrapped around me instead of my hand, squeezing me so tight. You feel so good around my fingers; I can’t even imagine how you’ll feel around my cock. Will you let me have you? Sink deep inside of you and fuck you open, my girl?”

She cries out again, nodding quickly. She grips his forearm tightly, eyes rolling back. “Please Nate,” she chokes out. “God, please, I need you.”

“You’ve got me,” he swears. He leans down and kisses her again, stealing the air from her lungs. He tugs his sweatpants down as best he can with one hand, sighing against her lips when his cock springs free.

Slowly, she draws her eyes up from his cock, enjoying the sight of his clenched stomach muscles, and the strain of his bent forearm. Everything about Nate is absolutely gorgeous. He’s just so big; so wide and cut, and god, he’s going to be the death of her. She grips his shoulders tightly, mouth going dry at the muscles her fingers trace over. She’s trying to commit every moment to memory, the soft pants falling from Nate lips, the way his eyes are nearly black with desire. It’s so different than it had been before, but somehow the same. They’ve both matured so much- confidence emanating off of them now, but that giddiness is still there. That schoolyard crush that makes your heart beat faster and your hands shake. Her head is swimming, with desire, and the disbelief that this is truly happening. That they’d found a way to have this happen again.

She whines when he draws his fingers out of her, the loss leaving her feeling empty, and she clenches around the air. “I’ve got you,” Nate promises her. He reaches over her head to the bedside table and comes back with a condom, tearing it open with his teeth before sliding it down his throbbing cock. Her fingers are still gripping his shoulders tightly, and there’s no way her nails aren’t biting into his skin but Nate doesn’t say a word. He just runs a soothing hand down her torso and grips her hips, holding her still as he lines himself up with her entrance. His eyes are locked with hers as he presses forward, the blunt head of his cock drawing a gasp when he slips inside. He’s so wide; her walls are already straining to accommodate him, the burn of the stretch making her heart pound. Nate takes his time pressing into her, letting her accommodate for his size. As he pushes in, he’s whispering soft reassurances to her, telling her how beautiful she is, and how good she feels.

He grips her waist tightly when he’s fully sheathed, his big hands wrapping around her. “Okay?” He whispers. She can see the strain of holding back on his face, the need to make sure she’s alright before he can let himself go and enjoy this.

“Perfect,” she assures. “Please, Nate.”

He sucks in a deep breath and nods. Slowly, he draws his hips back before snapping himself forward, burying himself even deeper. She’s impossibly tight and wet around him, drawing him in and clinging to him. It doesn’t take long for him to build up a steady rhythm and when he does, he feels like a man possessed. He’s holding her down against the bed, watching as her breasts bounce and her mouth falls open in pleasure. He feels her drag her nails down his back and he groans, driving into her even harder. The force of his hips is pushing her up the bed, leaving her breathless and begging for him.

“I’m so close,” she pants. “Please Nate, touch me.” Her eyes are shining when she looks up at him. He obliges, sliding his right hand down to press his fingers to her clit. Within seconds, she’s coming around him, clamping down on him as she cries out his name. Nate fucks her straight through it, his hips slapping against her ass as he chases his own release.

He kisses her desperately when he feels his body tightening. When her tongue sweeps against his, he’s gone. He drives in and holds himself there as he comes, a grunt falling from his lips. When he’s able to come back into himself, he reaches down, holding onto the condom as he slowly pulls out. He kisses her cheek in apology when she winces, tying the condom off and tossing it into the trash just after. He runs a hand down his face, trying to steady his breathing before he stands. He grabs the first hand towel he can find in the on suite bathroom, running it under the tap and bringing it back into her bedroom wordlessly.

She’s still spread out on the bed where he’d left her, her arm thrown up over her eyes as her chest heaves. He drags the towel between her legs, cleaning her up carefully, before the towel too gets tossed to the floor. “You doing okay?” He whispers. He drops down onto the bed beside her, manhandling her body until she’s lying on her side, facing him.

“Wonderful,” she says, and that’s the understatement of the century. “Was, was I okay?”

Nate’s eyes go wide, and he’s nodding immediately. “That was unbelievable. God, the way you feel-” He cuts himself off, dropping his head onto a pillow dramatically. “It’s amazing how good we still are together.” She peers up at him, sees his eyes closed and the small, happy smile on his face. It makes her heart twist in her chest, her throat tightening. Realization hits her like a bucket of ice water thrown over her head. None of this is real. He’s not her Nate anymore, and damn it, how is she going to walk away from this?

“I can hear the gears whizzing around in there,” he teases. “Tell me what you’re thinking?”

She hesitates, debates deflecting- telling him it’s nothing and avoiding the discussion she knows they should have. They’re adults now, this is the kind of thing they need to discuss, but she’s scared. “Nate,” she sighs, feels tears brimming in her eyes. “I don’t know. I just-“

“You told me you wouldn’t break my heart.” His voice is low. It isn’t accusatory, it’s just sad, like a punch straight to the stomach. She opens her mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. Hot tears leak out of the corners of her eyes, pooling on the pillow case.

“It’s feeling pretty broken right now.”

This has her swallowing hard, gathering her courage. “I don’t want to.” It’s barely a whisper. “But I don’t think there’s another choice.”

“Of course there is,” he assures her. “There’s always another choice.”

“Not when it leads right back where we broke in the first place.”

“Don’t think about that. Tell me what you want.”

“It doesn’t matter-“

“It does matter,” Nate insists. “What the hell are we doing in this life if we’re not trying to find happiness?” His eyes search her face, drinking in every feature. “What would make you happy?”

She doesn’t hesitate. “You. But-“

He shakes his head slowly. “Nope. No buts. I would make you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Thank god,” he breathes. “Because I’m not letting you go again.”

“It’s not that easy,” she says. “There’s too many variables, and it will lead us right back where we started.”

“It’ll be different this time.”

She sighs. “How can you know that?”

Nate reaches a tentative hand out, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the pad of his thumb. “Because we know better. We can make better choices together. I know you don’t want to be a WAG, and I’m not going to put that on you. If you want to stay in Florida, okay. If you want to move to Denver, okay. If you want to move back to Canada, that’s okay too. We’ll make whatever you decide work. I just want you.”

“You… you want that?”

“If it involves you, I want it.” He’s so adamant, speaking with such conviction she can’t entertain any other thought. She scoots closer to him on the bed, molding herself against his chest and resting her head on his shoulder.

“I really want this to work, Nate,” she says. “I really, really want that.”

He drops a kiss to her forehead. “Sweetheart, I told you, I’m not letting you go again. I mean it.”

#nathan mackinnon #nathan mackinnon imagine #hockey imagine #hockey rpf #nhl imagine #my writing #shutupptara writes #Nathan mackinnon X reader #tis the damn season #shut up tara

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milkhwi · 1 month

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Casino Nights - Gambler! Chenle

Summary: Gambling and more gambling, that’s all that mattered to Chenle. The probability of him winning was always high until one day you showed up and decided to change that and his life, too.

genre: gambler! chenle x gambler! reader

word count: 2.8k

warnings: illegal gambling & swearing probably not proof read enough

a/n: originally was supposed to be a bulleted scenario but honestly,, think this came out better idk anything about gambling dont do it kids- also it’s been in my draft since 2020 omg..4 years yeah last fic ever probably i’ve retired from my good old days. idk if anyone will read this but i’m proud :3 also my longest fic of my entire career who else cheered!

masterlist。

—

Dies being rolled, cards being shuffled, chips being placed, and bets being made. The casino was always full of gamblers- especially on a Saturday night. The casino was like a second home for Chenle. Every Saturday he would be there- gambling. Chenle, only being an eighteen year old, wasn’t allowed to enter a casino. Reason: age. Of course, it was no secret that gambling at that age was illegal. But Chenle was an exception. He knows how to gamble. In fact, he’s very good at it. The only reason he was allowed in the first place was because he’s rich. Being rich was an advantage to him. He put down exactly $10 million on the line- to which of course, anyone would accept if it was that amount of money. To make things worse, he was going to gamble against one of the best known gamblers. “If I win, I’ll be allowed to gamble and get twice the amount I’m betting. Alright?” Chenle said, with no tone in his voice.

Chenle’s opponent chuckled and smirked at him, “Alright kid, it’s a bet.”

Not long after, the best gambler out there was not only dethroned by an eighteen year old, but exactly 20 million in debt. Chenle chuckled slightly, “You were really that confident, huh?” His opponent gulped, he knew this was something so embarrassing that it would even haunt him in his dreams, “You cheated, didn’t you? Let’s go again, I’ll prove you wrong.” Chenle pretended to think about it, then nodded, betting down $30 million this time.

“Watch me close if you really think I’m cheating.” Everyone watching the game taking place was already sweating. Not long after, they were neck to neck- this made Chenle’s opponent laugh, relieved about the fact that he had a higher chance of winning, but since misfortune was on his side, Chenle won.

50 million in debt.

Suddenly his opponent stood up to say something, but immediately fell to his feet. Shaking at the realization. Chenle leaned towards him- towering him, “Wanna go again? Want to try proving me wrong again?” He said as his eyes darkened.

Everyone was shocked. How could someone so young be so deadly?

From that day on, Chenle became the youngest gambler. No one really opposed the idea of him becoming a gambler- especially at the gambling den and if they did, Chenle would ask them to play a few games.

Chenle did gambling as a hobby. For fun. No one really knew how he was so good at gambling. “He’s rich so he was probably taught in order to bring money to the house” or “What do you expect? It probably runs in the fucking family.”

The truth is, the first time Chenle gambled, he was at stake of losing everything. He wasn’t driven by money. He only gambled because he wanted to see how easy it was to see someone else defeated. He didn’t use his emotions- he used logic. After that, surprisingly- he didn’t get addicted to gambling like many do. Luckily, his parents weren’t aware of what he did in his spare time and they didn’t really care, either.

His parents only cared that when he finally turned 21, he would take over the company- or when his dad retired and handed him the company. Chenle was completely fine with that but wanted to have a hobby that was amusing to the eye.

Once he got home back from gambling at an ungodly hour, he headed to his room. There was a golden envelope with his name written in calligraphy. He turned his head slightly, murmuring a slight “huh?” and opened the envelope. His eyes turned wide at the contents of the letter. He was invited to go to the most important event of the year, held once a year, the talk of the year- NCT, something anyone would die to attend. The only thing that went through his head was how much money he would make if he would gamble with the rich people attending the event.

“You’re gonna have to attend, alright?” His mother said, taking another sip from her coffee.

“I know. It’s next week, right?”

“Yes, so after your meetings and lunch go and get your suit tailored.” She smiled, and grabbed her bag heading out the door.

Chenle sighed, at the sight of the empty house and how alone he was in the morning. Once he finished his breakfast he headed out to his meetings.

The day finally arrived and his mood was going downhill. ‘It had to be on a saturday, didn’t it?’ Chenle rolled his eyes, knowing he won’t be able to go to the casino. He silently sat in the dining room waiting for his father to finish going through documents inside his office. “Your father is ready to see you.” His mother said, opening the door to the office, making Chenle stand up and head inside.

His father glanced at him and then back at his computer and continued typing. Chenle walked over to his father’s desk, causing him to stop typing and clasped his hands, “I heard your friends are also going to the event.” Chenle noded, a barely audible ‘yes’ coming out of his mouth.

“Well, besides that, put out some good words for the company and try to get us as many new customers you can.”

“Yes, father.”

Chenle’s head swayed back and forth, making his eyes flutter shut at the soft jazz music playing in the background while people talked amongst themselves. As his head was about to fall to the table, Jisung smacks the back of his head, causing him to jolt awake. Jisung laughs and says, “At this rate, you might as well go home.”

Chenle looks at his watch and sighs, “It hasn’t even been an hour.”

Jeno sits next to him and says, “Did your father tell you to promote his company?”

“Yeah- like always.”

Suddenly, two plates of food were placed in front of him, “While you’re at it, you should eat lots of food!” Jaemin grabbed one plate and started digging in.

“He’s not wrong. We’re all probably gonna be stuck here for the rest of the night.” Renjun said, trying to grab food out of Jaemin’s plate.

Chenle checks his watch again, realizing only two minutes have passed, sighing. He looked around trying to come up with a plan on how to leave without anyone noticing in order to go to the casino. He stands up waving slightly, “Anyways, I’ll catch you guys later.”

“Where are you going?” Donghyuck says, his mouth stuffed with food.

“It’s a saturday.”

All of them collectively sigh at Chenle- knowing he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to do, but allowed him to do it anyways since they were all friends.

Chenle wandered around aimlessly around the building. Trying to find an exit that was not the front door seemed harder than he thought. At times he got distracted at how many people he had to greet or how the lights oozed an unexplainable aura. He goes up the flight of stairs trying to see if there was a way out. As he looks around, he stops and gazes at you- because of how dark it is, he doesn’t recognize who you are. But all he knows is, he has never seen you before at these past parties. Even though a lot of people attend, he knows everyone by memory. He continues going up the stairs trying to get a closer look at you, trying not to lose sight of you either. He shakes his head, thinking about how he should find an exit instead.

About two hours later, he enters the gambling den and a familiar smell lingers around causing him to smile. It has only been a week but he already missed the sounds of the slots and the ambient music playing in the background. As he was walking to the furthest part of the den, he noticed how many people were causing a commotion around a table of blackjack. There you were. Betting with some random old rich man. Chenle shook his head lightly, sighing at the fact that you most likely have lost- if not thousands by now. He signals towards a dealer near your table and shifts his eyes towards you, asking what you were doing here.

“They’ve been here for an hour. And they’ve won all their games already.”

His ears perked up to that new piece of information. All games won? Chenle loves a challenge. As he walks towards your table, watching you win. He reaches his hand out, “Let’s play a simple game of poker, shall we? I heard you’re pretty good for the hour you’ve already been here.”

“You’re not afraid to lose?” You say scanning Chenle’s face.

“Absolutely not, I have faith in myself.”

You were in his territory after all, why would he be afraid? Especially if he’s never seen you around. So he put all his chips to bet.

“Already? But it’s just the first game” You furrowed your eyebrows debating whether to believe if he was really good at this game.

“One game is all I need.” Chenle said, as he sat down.

You smirked, realizing how confident he sounded, you placed all your chips down, too.

And so, the game began with the dealer handing both of you 7 cards. People were already gathering around the both of you. Watching and waiting for this weird tension to be cut. With your poker faces on, the game began, rotating from one another.

“Raise” You said, causing Chenle to look up from his cards again. Although Chenle looked unaffected from the outside, he was confused, why would you raise again? Was your hand actually that much better than his? Or were you just bluffing? His hand wasn’t all that good, but he needed to win. He always wins. But this game seemed to feel like it was taking too long.

“Raise, too” Not wanting to back down, Chenle was determined to win. He never felt like he was going to lose against you. Maybe you had a one hour win streak, but he was about to break it.

Full house. A tie. Everyone started murmuring around the table. A tie? Against the infamous Chenle? Even Chenle looked slightly upset at this. But even this had a solution, he had the highest kind of a full house, automatically winning.

“Congrats, I’m Y/n by the way. New to the area, heard the rumors, and I guess they were true! Let’s do this again next time, shall we?” Before Chenle could speak, you were heading out, and he was too stunned at the fact that he almost lost a game to some newbie.

“The Zhong Chenle.. almost lost?” Haechan said, bursting out in laughter. Jisung and Jaemin seemed to hold in their laughter in order to not hurt his ego, but hearing Heachans contagious laugh, they couldn’t hold it in.

“Guys stop laughing, this should come off as surprising instead. I mean, a newbie? And a tie at that?” Mark said, while also trying not to laugh. Jeno shook his head, looking at the ground, not wanting to add fuel to the fire.

“I lost my mind that night. I don’t know what to feel.” Chenle sighed, still astonished by what happened almost a week ago.

“Are you gonna go tonight?” Jeno asked, out of curiosity.

“Take us with you this time! I wanna see you get your ass kicked!” Renjun hit Chenle’s shoulder playfully.

He sighed and nodded, “Fine, just don’t say anything stupid.”

Night fall came, which meant gambling night! Chenle brought the boys and was looking around to see if you would show up again. And so, you did.

You walked up to Chenle, tapping him on his soldier, innocently smiling, “Hi! I sure hope you weren’t too hung up on last week’s match” To that remark, Chenle felt his neck burn up, out of embarrassment. The boys looked at him, their jaws almost dropping. They didn’t expect that to be the way the night was starting, but it was probably going to go downhill from that.

After a few games, that Chenle obviously won. Your interest in him peaked, you were the same age as him after all, and wanted to know what made him more special than the rest. But your ultimate goal was to win a game against him in less than 5 months. This caused you to show up to the den even on the days Chenle never showed up for. But of course, he found out a week after, so he started showing up more, just to see what you were up to. It was strange, really. Both of you were gamblers, but the fact that he felt a connection with you since he tied a game with you was what kept him wondering. The fact that you kept coming and blowing up thousands of dollars just to play with him was also strange. You were a good gambler, keeping Chenle invested in your games. And so, you would meet outside of the gambling den, during the daytime to eat lunch or even dinner. He learned your hobbies, besides gambling all your money away and learned you were an exchange student with rich parents in the other side of the earth that would send you pocket money every weekend to treat yourself. Of course, they didn’t know you were blowing it off to some games every weekend, as long as you kept it hidden and kept a low profile, everything would be fine.

Chenle felt like the closest person you’ve met in your life. You cherished your friendship with him, but after realizing it’s been 4 months since you’ve known him, you felt a strange sensation of wanting to be even closer to him. And you didn’t know if he felt the same. You didn’t want to risk it anyways. The fact that you managed to figure out how to beat him after 8 weeks of gambling with him and keeping up an act to let him win was something you didn’t wanna tell him. But you were going home for the summer soon and wanted to know if you were even coming back. So you decided to wait 2 more weeks and win against him officially.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving soon.” Chenle said, sitting down at your usual table.

“And I’m spending my last days at the casino, how funny is it?” You smiled feeling a sense of competitiveness rush up. “By the way, can I pick the game?”

Chenle nodded realizing they haven’t played a few certain games in a while. And one of them was poker. “Poker it is.”

As always, people were dying to see Chenle play against anyone, knowing he would win. But this time you weren’t gonna hesitate. As the dealer handed you cards, you realized you had to win no matter what.

A straight flush. Everyone cheered around you. Chenle seemed to have gotten the second highest hand out of the deck, and there was no way your bluff was going to work against him. So, you showed your cards. A royal flush. The highest hand. Everyone stood quiet. Even Chenle couldn’t believe his eyes. He clapped, slowly causing everyone around you to cheer, “I knew you could do it, I always believed you.”

As if it was the adrenaline or the amount of people around you, you suddenly spoke and said “Chenle, I like you”

People took this as a cue and fled to different directions, not wanting to know what was going to happen next. Chenle’s eyes widened slightly and chuckled lightly, “I like you too, so come back as soon as you can”

That summer, Chenle would finally take over the company, which meant he would stop gambling if he didn’t wanna risk the future of the company. And you were working under your parent’s company but managed to land a sweet deal with Chenle’s company while his father still ran it and was allowed to work back with Chenle.

Taking trips to Sin City was something you adored with Chenle. The faces of other gamblers were priceless when you or him managed to win flawlessly, and with no “record” of ever gambling before. You hardly ever lost any money, so it was only ever done for fun.

“Chenle, I want to tell you something..”

“Go on”

“I figured out how to beat you and let you win multiple times afterwards.”

“Oh, it clicked to me the first time we met, I think I got lucky the first time we met.”

“Wait- really?”

“Yeah, but I was also really lucky that we met that night, I mean what were the odds?” Chenle says, planting a kiss on your lips gently, causing both of you to reminisce about the first time you met.

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bungowife · 3 months

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I’ve been following your art for a long time and I was just wondering what do you use as inspiration for your stuff, and do you have tips for people who kind of want a cartoony stretchy and very expressive art style (sorry if this is too much to ask I just love your stuff! Also what do you use to draw your stuff)

Thank you!!! Nice to see long-time followers :3

When I was first learning how to draw cartoons I bought the book Cartoon Animation by Preston Blair. It's a really good source that covers all the basics + some animation. When I started animating as a high school freshman I copied his walk cycles before trying anything on my own

This is a very old mini guide I made for a friend on how I push poses so the art's a little outdated but the idea is the same... I think line of action is neat lol I try to make the character follow the line as much as possible with the only thing that might break the silhouette being appendages like tails etc

My personal rule for expressions is that it just has to look like an exaggerated version of a real expression a human could actually do. To me it's not as appealing when artists add wrinkles in random places with no forethought, faces stretch around the eyes and mouth and chin and that's where I usually place wrinkles

I take inspiration from a lot of shtuffs these are just the ones I can think of right now:

-Fleischer cartoons. Favorite 30s studio besides Van Beuren

-obviously 90s cartoons, for Smokey my main inspiration is Twisted Tales of Felix The Cat and Pat Ventura's shorts for Oh Yeah! Cartoons. Animation wise I try to do something similar to season 2 of Space Goofs and Cats Don't Dance

-90s 2d point and clicks. Two big favorites are Toonstruck and UFOs

-anything by Ralph Bakshi. Fully aware it's bad lol but Cool World is one of my favorite movies ever

-underground comix but specifically 80s/90s newave stuff

-music!!! I like psychobilly and ska and it helps me draw. Massive Frank Zappa fan too

I think it's good to vary what you take inspiration from. When I started drawing cartoons I didn't let my myself improve because I only took inspiration from 30s and 90s cartoons and was so bent on perfectly replicating it that I didn't develop my own style. I see a lot of cartoonists blend together because they're only influenced by ren and stimpy and looney tunes that they don't have their own voice or bring anything new to the table

I recently just switched to my relatively new ipad so I'm using Procreate and then Procreate Dreams and Toonsquid for animation. Since 2020 I had been using Firealpaca and pencil2d because they were both free. I used a screenless Gaomon tablet I got for 30-40 dollars. I do all my sketches on paper and then airdrop them to myself since my hand doesn't move as naturally when sketching on a screen

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sattlersquarry · 5 months

Text

superfreaky (steve harrington x fem!reader)

Summary: [AU inspired by Freaky (2020); modern body-swap-with-a-slasher AU] The Hawkins Hacker has been terrorizing your town for years now. What happens when he digs his hooks into you is surprising. It's shocking. It's downright superfreaky.

Word Count: ~7.3k

Warnings: 18+ PLEASE!!!! for language, violence, grief, mentions of alcoholism, mentions of death and serial killers/slashers. all the characters are at least 18 in this (and Steve is the same age as the others). There's no descriptors of the reader except when she and Henry Creel swap bodies (then, you're Jamie Campbell Bower). Also Officer Callahan is your stepbrother in this.

a/n: this is a halloween fic. I'm aware that it's mid-November and everyone on this website has moved onto winter/holiday fics. I'm late! I'm sorry! Blame depression/personal life weirdness/my horoscope.

🔪🔪🔪

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 12th, 2023

Your life kind of sucks.

Just a little.

Currently, you’re dressed in a godawful tiger suit on a Thursday night, shaking your clip-on tiger tail like there’s no tomorrow. You don’t want to be here, but extracurriculars look great on college applications. If you want to get far, far away from Hawkins, Indiana after graduation, this is the kind of shit you have to do to be impressive on paper.

Plus, someone must be the brave soul that dons the Hawkins High school mascot costume on the sidelines of basketball games. The brave soul that gets soda cans chucked at your head by Billy Hargrove.

You turn and scowl when you feel the liquid splash across your back—not that Billy can see through your stitched-on tiger expression.

He and his buddies laugh and laugh, until team captain Steve Harrington chews them out for being assholes. You can’t help it—you inwardly swoon at the sight of him defending your honor. With that floppy hair and those gorgeous eyes and…

You snap yourself out of your wild, romantically charged fantasies about said basketball player when he jogs his way toward you.

“Hey, Y/N, you okay?” he asks quietly. You lift your mascot head and give him a small smile.

“I’m good,” you say. You shrug. “I’m used to it.”

Steve sighs and shakes his head.

“I’m really sorry. I told Hargrove to cut it out when you threw the nachos last week, but he just doesn’t know when to quit.”

The Tiger cheerleaders begin the school fight song.

“I’ve gotta get back into it,” you say. “But, um, thanks.”

“Anytime,” Steve says. He shoots you a smile before jogging back to his teammates. The timeout is over, and he steps back onto the court.

As you flail around next to the cheerleaders, the Tigers sink a three-pointer thanks to Steve and win the game.

Post-game, you shuffle into the parking lot with your best friends Robin Buckley and Jonathan Byers by your side. Jonathan works for the school paper and photographs the games while his girlfriend, Nancy Wheeler, interviews players and attendees on the sidelines. Robin is in band and plays the trumpet. (Sometimes, you wish you’d followed their extracurricular pathways instead of going the mascot route.)

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Robin points out, sensing your disdain as you glare at the tiger head in your hands and the oversize, fuzzy orange slippers adorning your feet.

“I do!” you say. “It’s senior year, fall semester. I can’t flake now. It’ll look bad on my applications.”

“You and those applications,” Jonathan says with a shake of his head. “You’ve been worrying about them since we were freshmen.”

“Obviously! They’re my ticket out of this town. It’s not safe here anymore.”

Robin and Jonathan share a look. They know what you’re referring to: the Hawkins Hacker.

The Hacker is the town's own slasher. He claimed victims every year around homecoming for years and years, until 2016, when he suddenly stopped. However, just last night he killed again. The whole town—including your stepbrother Phil, who’s a cop—are on edge.

“Do you need a ride home?” Jonathan asks, spinning his car keys in his hand.

“No, it’s okay,” you say. “My stepmom’s on her way. And there are plenty of people around. I’m totally safe!”

Famous last words.

Literally. (Almost.)

“You sure?” Robin questions. “Because he’s taking me and Nancy home too, but he’s got an extra seat!”

“I’m good,” you say. You hold up your cell phone. “She texted me an hour ago to say she’d get me on time. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay?”

Your friends look a little worried, but you wave them off. Game attendees meander out of the school and head to their cars. It’s a sea of people. You’re fine.

However, the minutes tick by, and the crowd thins out. You watch the away team hop a school bus and zip back to their hometown. You feel the temperature of your tiger suit inch up a few degrees when you see Steve wander to his BMW with a couple teammates in tow.

It’s considerably quieter than it was when you first left the game. You text your stepmom LeAnn once, twice. Then you call her once, twice, three times. A third text, a fourth call. Nothing. Radio silence.

By now, it’s dead quiet. Everyone is gone. You feel an icy chill zip down your spine, like you’re being watched…

You miss your father. He died about a year ago, and he was always on time.

You startle when the phone in your hand buzzes. It’s your stepbrother Phil.

“Hey!” you say. “Where’s LeAnn?”

“Passed out again,” Phil says with a beleaguered sigh. “Where are you? Did Jonathan give you a ride home?”

“No, I told him your mom was coming to get me,” you say. “Can you—”

Beep! Beep! Beep!

You pull the phone away from your ear and groan. It’s dead. Just great.

A streetlight across the parking lot flickers. When your eyes adjust, your heart drops through your stupid mascot feet and to the center of the earth: there’s a man watching you.

You can’t tell, but it looks like he’s wearing a mask. You gulp, panic stretching itself through every fiber of your being.

“Please don’t be the Hawkins Hacker,” you mumble to yourself. “Please don’t be the Hacker. Please don’t be the Hacker.”

The Man continues to stare. Something glints in his hand. It frightens you.

“My stepbrother is on his way!” you yell, hoping to scare him off. “He’s a cop. With a gun.”

That doesn’t seem to bother the man at all. In fact, you see him walk toward you—a slow, Michael-Meyers-esque stride that has you shrieking in fear and stumbling to the school doors.

You yank at them to no avail. You don’t bother looking back and instead run around the school building to the football field. Panting from exertion and sheer fear, you duck under the bleachers and hide behind a big banner.

You slap a hand over your mouth to quiet your panicked whimpers. Why oh why did you trust LeAnn to get you on time, when every night for the past month she’s drank a whole bottle of chardonnay at 6 p.m. and passed out? Why didn’t you go with Jonathan when he offered? Hell, why didn’t you ask Steve for a ride? He’s a nice guy! He would’ve done it!

Now, you’re hiding from a slasher in a stupid rubber gray mask. And if you die and come back as a ghost, you’ll be wearing the Hawkins High mascot suit for all eternity.

You watch the Hackers’ feet as he stands in front of the bleachers and listen as he steps on them. He seems to think you’ve left, and you hear him wander off.

Or, so you think. Actually, he sneaks up behind you and grabs your leg, yanking you out from your hiding place.

You scream and kick at him, hitting him right in the nose and giving you the chance to run.

You don’t get far, though. He tackles you somewhere around the fifty-yard line.

“No! No!” you scream as he raises the knife above you. The knife has a spider carved in the handle with red ruby eyes. “Please! No!”

You push at him, knocking his mask off. His face is gaunt: all sallow cheekbones and purple under-eye bags. His eyes are a dull, washed-out blue, and his blonde hair is scraggly and unwashed.

You hate that his face is the last face you’ll ever see.

He plunges the dagger into your shoulder just a few inches shy of your heart and you scream in pain, the bloodcurdling sound echoing across the football field. The Hacker hisses in pain and drops the knife. He touches his shoulder and looks angry at the sight of blood on his fingertips.

His blood. From the wound that appeared on his shoulder after he stabbed you in the same spot.

Bang! Bang!

“GET AWAY FROM HER!” Phil roars from across the football stadium, gun raised in the air.

The Hacker stumbles to his feet and ambles off. Still prone on the ground, you turn on your stomach and watch him go, shocked at what you witnessed. How did he get stabbed?

You’re in so much shock, you don’t even realize that Phil is by your side until he gently helps you sit up.

“You’re okay!” he says, voice tinged with an urgency you’ve never heard from him before. “I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you.”

“It hurt him too,” you mutter, a bit delirious. “It hurt him too!”

“Try to stay calm, okay?” Phil says. “You’re in shock. I got you, Y/N.”

You hear him bark into his radio: “This is Officer Callahan! Send an RA unit to the Hawkins High football field! My stepsisters’ been stabbed!”

The rest of your evening is a blur. You get patched up by paramedics and then taken to the police station to give a statement.

LeAnn arrives as you’re sitting with the sketch artist, crying and screaming and apologizing a million times. You forgive her (even though you aren’t sure you want to), and later that night, you hear Phil chewing her out for drinking and forgetting you again.

“She could’ve died, Mom!” you hear him yell as you lie in bed and try to sleep. “If I had been just a minute too late, we would’ve lost her and Allen in the span of 11 months!”

“I’m sorry!” LeAnn sobs. “I just had one glass—”

“One glass, Mom?! Try the whole bottle!”

Despite your anger at her, your heart breaks for LeAnn. You know your dad’s death has been hard on her. She hasn’t been doing too well since he passed, but sometimes you wish she’d realize you weren’t doing that great either. Phil tries to comfort you both, but he’s so busy with work, his pep talks are usually thirty seconds long between bites of a bagel before he’s rushing off to save Hawkins again.

Your phone blows up with texts and DMs. Somehow, the kids at school found out what happened and won’t stop messaging you for details on your encounter with the Hacker. You can’t deal with it. Except, there are some messages that you do respond to:

---

Text Thread with BOBBIN and JONNY B GOOD

BOBBIN: Oh my God!!! Y/N are you okay??? Please text back!!!

JONNY B GOOD: We saw what happened on the news. Please text us when you have a chance. We’re worried about you and thinking of you rn.

BOBBIN: WE’RE FREAKING OUT!!! ARE YOU OKAY???

JONNY B GOOD: Robin, just chill. She’s probably resting.

BOBBIN: Please don’t die and leave me alone to third wheel Nancy and Jonathan!!

JONNY B GOOD: Wooooow.

YOU: Wow is right. I got stabbed and those are your priorities?

BOBBIN: SHE LIVES!!!! YEAHHHHHHH!!!

YOU: Yep, I’m alive. I’m really sorry but I feel like shit. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?

JONNY B GOOD: Of course. We’re here when you need us.

BOBBIN: WE LOVE YOU <3

YOU: <3

---

DMs from steve.anthony.h83

STEVE (steve.anthony.h83): Hey Y/N I saw the news I rly hope ur OK

YOU (y/n.y/l/n86): Hi Steve, thank you for reaching out. It means a lot to me. I’m not feeling too good right now.

STEVE (steve.anthony.h83): Im sry to here that that sux 😞😢💔

---

God, even his text message typos and cheesy emoji usage are endearing. You’re in too deep with this crush.

---

YOU (y/n.y/l/n86): Yeah. But I think I’ll be okay.

STEVE (steve.anthony.h83): Anything I can do 2 help? Maybe I can get u smtg, wats ur fav candy?

YOU (y/n.y/l/n86): Oh, that’s sweet, but you don’t have to do that!

STEVE (steve.anthony.h83): I want too 😃 do u like nougat

YOU (y/n.y/l/n86): I love nougat!

STEVE (steve.anthony.h83): Perfect 😃 Ill bring u sum tmrw after school 🍫

YOU (y/n.y/l/n86): Thank you, Steve ❤️

STEVE (steve.anthony.h83): Feel better Y/N 😃😃

You go to sleep, shaken up but in slightly higher spirits thanks to your conversation with Steve.

🔪🔪🔪

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 13th, 2023

You blink awake hours later, startled at the sight around you.

You aren’t in your room. You’re lying on a mattress on a concrete floor. The room around you is full of weird stuff: grandfather clocks, paintings upon paintings of black widow spiders, and mannequins with nails in their faces like Pinhead.

“What the hell!” you say. You gasp and clutch your neck. “Why is my voice so deep?!”

You stagger to your feet and look around the creepy space. Why are you further from the floor than usual? In the corner, you see a mirror half-covered with a sheet. You yank it off and gasp.

“AHHHH! IT’S THE HAWKINS HACKER!” you scream.

The Hacker screams as well. You reach your hand toward the glass—and the Hacker reaches his hand toward it as well. You pull it away and so does he.

The you in the reflection is the Hacker. Holy shit.

You realize where you are: the old mill. Phil told you to stay away from this place because it’s where drug deals go down, and where Eleanor Gillespie got attacked by birds that one time.

You rush away before you can freak out too much. You head downtown, mind swirling.

This must just be a nightmare. Right? A really, really realistic, terrifying lucid dream.

But when you hit your head on a tree branch (because you’re way, way taller than you used to be) and it actually hurts, you realize it’s not a dream. You’re really the Hawkins Hacker. Somehow, you’ve swapped bodies with a homicidal maniac.

You need to find Phil. He’s been your stepbrother for a decade now and you trust him more than anyone else. He might be able to know what to do—or just be a shoulder to cry on.

You pass an electronics store, and your heart sinks when you see your face—the Hackers’ face—on TV.

“The Hawkins Hacker has been identified as Henry Creel,” the news anchor says, showing a photo of the face that you are unfortunately saddled with now. “He’s most known for killing his mother, father, and sister as a teenager—and also for driving a Jeep Wrangler through a Dairy Queen drive-through window without a license.”

“Hey!” someone shouts nearby, having connected the dots. “You’re the killer guy from TV!”

You don’t even stop to see who’s yelling at you before you run as fast as you can, ducking through alleyways to lose whoever’s chasing you.

You can’t go to the police station now that your face is plastered all over the news and social media. But you need an ally, or allies.

Besides Phil, the people you trust the most are Robin and Jonathan. You sneak into Hawkins High through the gymnasium doors, wishing you had your mascot head to hide under. Then, you take a quick shower in the locker rooms and hide until class change is done.

You slink through the empty hallways and make it to the school’s auditorium. That’s where you, Robin, and Jonathan spend study hall every day.

You open the door to the theater as quiet as a mouse, hiding in the wings for a moment when you overhear them talking about you.

“I hope Y/N’s doing okay,” Robin says with a sigh. She takes a bite of an apple and says through chews, “Why did she blow us off earlier?”

“Give her a break, Rob,” Jonathan says. “She’s probably really shaken up. But it is weird that she even came to school anyway. I wonder—”

“Guys!” you say, stepping onto the stage. “It’s me! Don’t freak out.”

They immediately freak out.

“AHHHHH!!! THE HACKER!!!” Robin screams. She chucks an apple core at your head and it bounces between your eyes. You stumble back and groan.

“COME ON!” Jonathan says, grabbing her hand and dragging her away from your, fear flashing in both of their eyes.

“Wait!” you shout. “Come back!”

You follow them as they run through the hallways and end up in the school cafeteria’s kitchen. A lunch lady shrieks and runs out when she sees you.

“Stop!” you call, following Robin and Jonathan to the back room. “Wait! Please just hear me out.”

Jonathan snatches up a soup ladle and hits you in the spine with it.

“ARGH! Dude, stop!”

Robin grabs a tray of mozzarella sticks and lifts it above her head. The sticks go flying when she whacks you in the head. Repeatedly.

Angry that they won’t stop hitting you, you yank the tray out of Robin’s hand and toss it away. Your newfound strength the body you’ve found yourself in possesses surprises you. The old you would’ve grappled with Robin a lot longer before getting the tray from her, if you even got it at all.

Robin tries to jump on your back piggyback-style to tackle you to the ground, and you elbow her in the stomach.

“Cut that out!” you bark as she wheezes.

Jonathan hits you again with the ladle and you shove his shoulder, a bit too hard. He falls on his butt and winces.

“Enough!” you say. “We’ve hit each other over and over. Can we agree we’re all tired and end this?!”

“No!” Jonathan says, pulling himself back to his feet by gripping a countertop. “You attacked our friend and now you’re attacking us!”

“I’m not attacking you!” you say. “I’m trying to get you to listen. I am not Henry Creel. I am not the Hawkins Hacker. I’M Y/N! YOUR FRIEND Y/N Y/L/N!”

“As if!” Robin scoffs. “I’m calling 911.”

You snatch the phone from her hands and hold it high above your head. She’s tall, but not tall enough to reach it thanks to your longer arms.

“I promise!” you beg, holding your other arm up in surrender. “It’s me. It’s Y/N!”

“Yeah, right!” Jonathan says darkly. He picks up the ladle again, wielding it like a lethal weapon. “Tell us something only Y/N would know or we’re going to the cops.”

“What’s Y/N’s favorite movie?” Robin asks, eyes narrowed.

“I tell everyone it’s Casablanca but it’s The Muppets Take Manhattan!”

“Favorite candy?” Jonathan demands.

“Three Musketeers because I feel guilty that everyone shits on nougat when it’s really not that bad!”

“Who’s Y/N’s biggest crush?” Robin asks.

The face that’s not yours blushes deeply.

“Duh,” you say. “It’s Steve the Hair Harrington.”

Jonathan and Robin share a look. A sense of realization flashes on their faces.

“Handshake?” you offer. You hand Robin her phone back and hold out your hands—or, Henry Creel’s hands—and wait.

Robin and Jonathan slap you five, before the three of you complete the intricate handshake you made up in seventh grade.

“Holy shit!” Robin shrieks, eyes shining. “You’re really Y/N!”

She pulls you and Jonathan in for a group hug and you laugh.

“Oh, thank god,” you say. “If you didn’t believe me, I don’t know what I’d—"

“Hold on,” Jonathan says, pulling out of the hug. “If you’re actually Y/N, that means the Hawkins Hacker is going around school wearing your face!”

“Oh damn,” Robin says. “Is that why you look hot today?”

“What do you mean I look hot?” you say, trying not to take offense to the implication that you don’t look hot every day.

Robin opens Instagram and shows you a photo posted to the student-run Hawkins High Gossip Instagram page. It’s a blurry photo of you (or Henry Creel in your body) walking in the hall past Billy and his asshole friends, who are checking you out. Instead of your usual mousy wardrobe of flowy skirts and cardigans, you’re wearing a tight black tank top, a red leather jacket, and bright red lipstick.

“Hot damn!” you blurt out. “I do look hot! Shit, have I hurt anyone? Or, has he hurt anyone?”

Jonathan grimaces.

“Tommy H. was found unconscious in the chem lab,” he says. “He was mostly fine, except his eyebrows were burned clean off…”

“But if fake-you did that,” Robin says quickly, “you aren’t liable because you weren’t in control of your body!”

“I don’t even know how we body-swapped in the first place!” you lament. “How do I get control of my body back?!”

“Let’s think about this,” Jonathan says. “Maybe it was some kind…spell? Or enchantment?”

“Enchantment?!” you snap. “Dude, be for real!”

“Wait,” Robin says, eyes shining. “I heard about this!”

She opened the internet app on her phone and went to www,theweeklywatcher,com/body-swap.

“No fucking way,” you say. “The Weekly Watcher is not a refutable source!”

“Why not?!” she says, scrolling ferociously until— “Ah! Found it.”

She shows you an article about the mythology of body swapping. At first, you roll your eyes, but then—

“That knife!” you gasp. “That’s the knife he had!”

You point to the photo, featuring the ruby-eyed spider in the knife handle.

“According to this,” Jonathan says, “that knife is an artifact that was used in ancient rituals."

“If you’re struck with the blade when the clock strikes midnight,” Robin reads, “you and your attacker switch places. And you have 24 hours to stab him and switch back.”

“No, no, no!” you groan. “That means we only have 12 hours left!”

“That’s plenty of time,” Jonathan says. “Where’s the knife? You have it, right?”

“No!” you say. “Phil took it as evidence.”

“So we’ll just steal it from the police station,” Robin says, as if it’s easy and obvious.

“Oh, sure,” you lament. “We’ll just waltz into the police station while I have the face and body of a mass murderer and steal evidence. Easy-peasy!”

“We’ll figure something out,” Jonathan says. “Come on.”

The three of you head toward the exit and end up walking past the woodshop classroom. You do a double-take and watch yourself enter the hallway. Or, you watch the Hawkins Hacker parade around as you.

“Hey, stop!” you shout at Henry Creel. He pauses and turns. A shiver runs down your spine at the dark, evil look gracing your features. Features you’ve seen your whole life, features you’ve struggled to like after years of taunting and bullying. Now, they’re marred with the evil spirit of the Hawkins Hacker.

Yet, goddamn. You look hot with red lipstick. Who knew slashers had good fashion sense?

“Don’t try to run,” Jonathan says, the waver in his voice indicating that his bravery is false. “We’ve got you cornered.”

The Hacker suddenly changes expressions. Instead of a nasty glare, he opens his eyes wide, covers his cheeks with his hands, and shrieks: “AHHHH! IT’S THE HAWKINS HACKER! GET HIM!”

A couple cops run around the corner of the hall and you curse, rushing toward a side door with Robin and Jonathan in tow.

“GET YOUR KEYS!” you yell. “We have to get out of here or I’m headed to jail forever!”

Jonathan struggles to start his car, but he peels away just before the cops can stop you all. After your first-ever police chase, you three lose your tail in the parking lot of the big-box store LeAnn works at.

You hide out in a changing room while Jonathan and Robin find you a disguise—a plastic Halloween mask of Bill Clinton’s face.

“I can’t see or breathe in this thing,” you grumble as your friends lead you back to the car.

“If you get arrested,” Robin points out, “you won’t be able to switch back.”

You bite your tongue from any further complaints, too worried about just that.

“So, what’s the plan?” Jonathan asks, once you all are back in his car. “How can we get the knife?”

“About that,” Robin says. “I think we need to bring in your stepbrother.”

“If Phil doesn't believe us, we're in big trouble!” you protest.

“He’s an ally!” Robin shoots back. “And we need one if we’re going to…oh shit.”

She holds up her phone screen for you and Jonathan to see. You squint through the eye holes of your uncomfortable mask and gasp when you realize what’s going on.

“Fuck!” you groan. “What the hell is he doing?!”

It’s another post from the school gossip Insta. The Hawkins Hacker is schmoozing with Billy and his clique of jerks at the local indoor mini-golf place. You watch in the video as he leans into Billy’s ear and whispers something before sauntering off.

The caption of the post says, “OMG is Y/N Y/L/N like, hot now?!”

“I resent this!” you snap. “Why is everyone under the impression that I’m not hot all the time?!”

“No, no, no!” Jonathan gasps. “Look!”

At the tail end of the video, you see Nancy and Steve follow Henry Creel into the glow-in-the-dark golf course.

“They’re going to get killed!” he says, turning the ignition in his car with shaking hands and reversing haphazardly, almost taking out a mulberry bush as he speeds toward the golf place. “Robin, call Nancy now.”

“She’s not picking up!” Robin says, phone to her ear. “I’ll text!”

Your stomach churns with anxiety. If the Hacker kills Nancy and Steve while he’s in your body and you switch back, you’ll feel guilty forever. You’ll also go to jail. But if you don’t switch back, you’ll go to jail as Henry! This is all too much.

You’re certain the pale face that doesn’t belong to you is green right now as Jonathan drives like a racecar driver to save his girlfriend and your crush from “your” wrath.

🔪🔪🔪

Steve’s not sure what’s gotten into you today.

First, you showed up to school. That was surprising after your attack.

“Hey!” he had said when you walked into woodshop class. “How you feeling?”

You hadn’t responded, but you had looked quite intrigued when he accidentally cut his finger working on his birdhouse.

“Ah, shit,” he’d grumbled. “Do you have a—”

You leaned over and licked the blood clean off his finger. It startled him—and annoyed him when that freak Eddie Munson mumbled, “Whoa, that’s hot,” from across the worktable.

Steve’s cheeks glowed rosy red, flustered at your boldness. But you’d left class before he could do or say anything about it (or give you the candy he brought for you).

And now, after school, you’re standing with Billy and whispering salacious things into his ear. Since when do you like Billy? Billy, the guy that throws things at you? Billy, the guy that wrote “Y/N Y/L/N is an ugly stupid bitch” on the bathroom stalls? Billy, the guy that didn’t give you the time of day until you dressed differently?!

Why doesn’t she like me?! Steve thought, trying to look unaffected as you continued flirting with Billy. He fails, the wrinkle between his brows getting deeper as you continue talking to Billy in a low voice.

“Steve,” Nancy says urgently, rushing up to him. “We need to talk.”

“Can it wait?” Steve says. He crosses his arms. “I don’t want to do anything right now except sulk.”

“Something’s really, really wrong,” Nancy continues, ignoring Steve’s pity party. “Jonathan’s MIA and isn’t messaging me back. And neither is Robin. And Carol claims she saw them earlier get in Jonathan’s car with a tall, blond weirdo.”

“So, maybe they have a new friend,” Steve says. He squeezes the handle of his mini-golf putter and watches you walk toward the glow-in-the-dark course. “I need to go talk to Y/N.”

“No!” Nancy hisses, following him as they cut through the crowds. She tucks her phone deep in her purse. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. The Hawkins Hacker is a tall, blond weirdo. Carol didn’t get a good look, but—”

“But you think your boyfriend and Robin are rubbing elbows with a killer? Nance, that’s bullshit.”

“It’s not!” she snaps. “I think that, somehow, that tall blond weirdo is actually Y/N and that girl that you’re going to go talk to is the Hacker.”

“That makes no goddamn sense,” Steve says. “Body-swapping isn’t possible.”

“Just listen to me! I was reading an article in The Weekly Watcher…”

Nancy follows Steve into the course, whispering her findings and bringing up Y/N’s odd behavior as they navigate the dark room lit up with black lights.

The more he listens, the more it makes sense. You’re not acting like yourself. But it still seems too far-fetched.

“I don’t know, Nance,” Steve says, scanning the room for you. “I think you need to stop listening to Robin so much.”

Swish! The beaded curtain leading into the next section of the course rattles as Henry Creel barrels through.

“Nancy! Steve!” he yells. “Watch out!”

Henry pushes them to the side and grabs Y/N’s hand—huh, when did you sneak up behind Steve and Nancy? The Hacker twists your wrist and you cry out.

“Y/N!” Steve shouts, rushing forward to protect you. Before he can, Jonathan and Robin grab his arms.

“No, no, let them fight!” Robin says.

“Let go of me!” Steve snaps.

He watches, helpless, as the Hawkins Hacker punches you between the eyes and you crumple like sand.

“Whoa, cool!” Henry Creel says, turning around and facing the four teens with an excited glimmer in his eye. “I’ve never knocked someone out with one punch before.”

“Wait!” Nancy says. “Am I right?”

“Right about what?” Jonathan asks.

“Did Henry and Y/N…switch bodies?”

Henry (or, Y/N?) puts his hands on his hips.

“Girl, how did you know?”

It all becomes too much for Steve. He blacks out.

🔪🔪🔪

When Steve wakes, he’s lying on the Byers’ couch. Henry Creel sits on a kitchen chair next to him.

Steve opens his mouth to scream.

“Wait!” Henry says. “Steve, don’t freak out. It’s me! I know I look like the Hacker, but it’s Y/N!”

Across the room, the person that looks like you is tied to another kitchen chair.

“Steve, don’t listen to him!” Y/N laments. “He’s crazy! He brainwashed these three idiots into working for him!”

“Who are you calling idiot, idiot?” Robin snaps.

“Steve, I was right,” Nancy explains patiently, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Y/N and Henry Creel have switched places.”

“No!” the tied-up Y/N shrieks. “Please! Steve, look at me.”

Steve turns his head toward her.

“No!” Henry says. “Look at me, Steve.”

Steve turns back toward the Hacker/potential real you.

“Steve!” the tied-up Y/N groans, trying to sound in distress but actually moaning like a Bridgerton reject. “Steve! Steeeeeeeve!”

“Oh, dry up, bitch!” Robin snaps.

“Jesus Christ, Robin!” Henry says. “Don’t talk to him like that when he’s got my face. That’s rude.”

“This is all too much,” Steve says, jumping to his feet. “I—I can’t be here.”

He darts toward the door, but before he can exit the Byers house, Henry stands and says, “We danced together at our freshman year Snow Ball!”

Steve pauses with his hand on the door handle.

“It was in the parking lot,” Henry continues. “You were vaping and I was leaving early, because truthfully, I was having a terrible time. But I saw you, and you saw me, and we split a snowflake-shaped sugar cookie and talked for, like, half an hour. And then someone propped the doors open and we could hear the DJ, and he was playing that creepy ’80s song about always watching someone, and we ragged on the lyrics for being weird and stalker-y. But you asked me if I wanted to dance, and we did for half a minute, and then my dad came to pick me up and I left. But that was the most fun I had had all semester and it gave me a fat, embarrassing crush on you. And I really, really wish I wasn’t a total coward, or I would’ve told you way sooner than our senior year—and when I wasn’t in the body of a serial killer.”

Steve watches the way Henry nervously wrings his hands—he recognizes it as a habit of yours. For a long minute, he’s not sure what to think.

🔪🔪🔪

For a long minute, you’re not sure what to think.

You just blurted out your secret crush on Steve Harrington to Steve Harrington, and he’s staring at you like he doesn’t understand you.

But then, he gives you a small smile.

“Maybe this is weird to say while you’re in the body of a serial killer,” Steve says, “but I have a fat, embarrassing crush on you, too.”

Your heart soars.

“Pathetic,” the fake-you/the Hacker grumbles. “You’re both cowards. I can’t wait to gut you like a fish.”

“That’s enough!” Nancy says sharply, shoving a sock into the Hacker’s mouth. He glares up at her with your face, but Nancy doesn’t even flinch.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” Jonathan says, “let’s divide and conquer. I’ll stay here to keep an eye on murder Barbie.”

He nods in the direction of the scowling, incapacitated Hacker.

“And I’ll drive the rest of us to the police station,” Nancy says. “Y/N, you’ll stay in the car while we distract your stepbrother and steal that knife back. He should be the only one working, because everyone else is hunting you. Er, Henry.”

“Knife?” Steve asks. “What knife?”

“It’s a spooky, magic dagger and it’s the reason Y/N and Henry Creel are swapped!” Robin says.

Steve blinks once, twice.

“Right. Totally. That makes sense.”

“Let’s go!” you say. “We have four more hours to do this!”

🔪🔪🔪

While Nancy and Robin go to get the knife, you and Steve wait in the car.

It’s a little awkward, due to the circumstances. When you imagined sitting in the backseat of a car with Steve Harrington, you hoped for something a little more amorous. Not you in the body of the Hawkins Hacker.

You start to feel a little brave and even consider reaching for his hand to hold—when you see the fake you running down the sidewalk and into the station.

“What?!” you say. “How’d he get out?!”

“Shit,” Steve says. “You stay out of sight, I’ll try and stop him.”

“No!” you say. “My stepbrother’s in there! I have to go help. You stay here and call Jonathan! Make sure he’s okay.”

Steve frowns but nods, agreeing to stay behind.

When you bolt into the police station, you see Phil with his hand on his holster, glaring at Robin and Nancy. Fake you feigns a frightened gasp and runs behind him when you enter, and Phil pulls his gun and points it at you. You throw your hands up.

“Don’t shoot!” you squeak.

“Kill him!” Henry says from his hiding spot.

“Don’t! Stop!” Robin and Nancy shout.

You see the spider dagger on the ground by your friends’ feet. Before you can try and grab it, Henry does and runs out of the station.

Phil doesn’t even give him a second look.

“Put your hands behind your head,” he says to you, “and walk slowly into the cell.”

“This is a mistake!” you protest, but following his instructions so you don’t get pumped with lead.

“Please, Officer Callahan,” Robin begs.

“We’re telling the truth,” Nancy says, “just—”

“Quiet, you two!” he barks. “You! Keep walking.”

You gulp and step into the cell.

“Do you remember what I got you for Christmas in 2017?” you ask.

“Shut up,” Phil says. You glance behind. He still has the gun pointed at your back, but you see his hands shaking. And his finger’s not on the trigger.

“It was a pack of limited-edition Pokémon cards,” you continue. “Mint condition. With a holographic Charizard. But I didn’t realize I ordered a rip-off pack called Pokeymans, so it was actually a Chumpizard card.”

“How the fuck do you know that?!” Phil demands, voice shaking in tandem with his hands.

“Because I’m not the Hawkins Hacker!” you say. “I’m really Y/N. And…I’m sorry about this.”

With Henry Creel’s strength, you knock the gun out of Phil’s hands. It skitters across the floor, and you yank him by the arm into the cell.

He stumbles against the back wall and you step out, closing the door and locking him inside.

“HEY!” Phil screams, yanking at the bars. “LET ME OUT!”

“I’m so sorry!” you say. “But it’s really me. I have to hunt that bitch down and stab him with the stolen dagger and then our bodies will switch back and things will be normal again!”

“STAY AWAY FROM MY SISTER!” Phil roars, evidently not buying into the body-swap story.

Touched, you clasp your hands to your chest.

“Wait, you called me your sister!” you say. “Not stepsister! That’s so sweet. You’re my brother, Phil. And I’m going to make things right.”

Phil furrows his brow, confused, as you run out with Nancy and Robin in tow.

Jonathan and Steve meet you three out front.

“Your brother can’t drive for shit!” Steve says. “He just almost ran us over with his squad car.” “That wasn’t Phil!” you say. “It was Henry! He stole his cop car. But why? Where the fuck is he going?”

“Earlier this evening,” Nancy says urgently, “I heard you—uh, him—tell Billy that they should throw a homecoming party at the old mill, since they canceled the real dance.”

“That’s where he lives!" you say. "His homebase. It’s where I woke up this morning.”

“It’s his hunting ground,” Robin says darkly. “No doubt he’ll be killing teens left and right.”

“We have to stop him,” Jonathan says.

“No shit, Byers!” Steve says. “Let’s go!”

🔪🔪🔪

When you arrive at the mill, your group agrees to split up.

“Wait!” Steve says, before you dart off. “Hold out your arm.”

You hesitate and do as he says. He attaches his watch to your wrist.

“I always have it set for five minutes ahead,” Steve explains. “So I’m not late to stuff. So we have 30 minutes to find the Hacker, get the knife, and do the switch.”

“Everyone keep your phones close,” Jonathan says. “Move out!”

You divide and conquer, searching the party of wild, drunk teenagers for the evil man wearing your face. Eventually, you find him in an empty back room — towering over an unconscious Billy with an axe in hand, ready to whack the bully in the skull.

“WAIT!” you yell. “STOP!”

The Hacker freezes and turns, giving you an evil smile. You see the hilt of the magical dagger shining in a sheath attached to his belt.

“It’s you again,” he spits.

“Yes, hi,” you say. “It’s me. And I’m going to ask you to put the axe down before I make you.”

The Hacker cackles.

“Really?” he says. “Even in your pathetic, puny body, I could overpower you in half a second. Plus, this jerk makes your life hell. Don’t you want me to finish him off?”

“No!” you snap. “Because I’m not a monster like you!”

You notice Jonathan in a doorframe behind the Hacker, staying out of his eyeline.

“What’s your problem, man?” you ask, hoping to distract him so Jonathan can take him by surprise. “Why do you kill people?”

“Do you really want to know why?” Henry asks. You nod.

“Well, guess what: there’s no reason. None at all. I kill people because I think it’s fun!”

“You’re sick,” you mutter.

He grins evilly.

“And you’re my next vict—Argh!”

Jonathan interrupts the Hacker’s evil spiel by hitting him in the back of the skull with a fire extinguisher. The murderer crumples to the ground, the axe flying out of his reach.

He doesn’t stay down for long. Thankfully, you’re able to tackle him and snatch the magical knife into your hand.

You raise it above your head, and—

Beep. Beep. Beep.

You gasp and look at Steve’s watch. The timer is done. You’re out of time.

The Hacker laughs and laughs and laughs.

“Shit,” you say, tears of anger and despair welling up in your eyes. “Shit! I’m stuck like this!”

“I win!” the Hacker cackles. “You’ll be tossed in jail, and I’ll be free to keep killing. I think I'll stab your little boyfriend Steve next.”

You’re about to drop the dagger and run, unsure of where to go or what to do, when Jonathan says: “Wait, the clock tower!”

You whip your head over to look at him, brow furrowed.

“The clock tower in the library!” Jonathan continues. “It’s not going off! You still have time!”

Puzzle pieces fall into place.

“Steve sets his watch five minutes ahead,” you say, glancing at your wrist.

Henry Creel’s eyes widen, and then you plunge the dagger into his shoulder.

You feel strange, like you’re floating in the air. Then, suddenly, both you and the Hacker are thrown backward.

When you hazily blink and sit up, you see the Hacker doing the same.

“It worked!” you say, face splitting into a grin.

The Hacker glares at you. You feel a chill down your spine. But before he can do or say anything, your brother swoops in with his gun raised.

“Hands where I can see them!” Phil yells. The Hacker grumbles but obeys. You and Jonathan skirt away from him as Phil slaps handcuffs on the killer and drags him into a squad car.

“Y/N!” Robin shouts, running over with Nancy and Steve in tow. “Are you okay?!”

“I’m okay,” you say. You wince and grip your shoulder. “Except I reopened my shoulder wound, and I think I’m going to have really, really freaky dreams every night for the rest of my life.”

Phil races back over once his colleagues have Henry Creel in custody, fussing over you like a mother (brother) hen. You find yourself seated in the back of an ambulance with a freshly bandaged shoulder.

After Phil steps away to debrief Chief Hopper on the arrest (and to lock the magical dagger away once and for all), Steve wanders over.

“Can I sit here?” he asks, gesturing vaguely next to you on the back bumper of the ambulance. You nod and scoot over.

“How’s your arm?” Steve asks.

“It’s mine again,” you say, “so it feels amazing, despite the stab wound.”

“I’m definitely glad to see you as yourself again,” Steve says, cheeks flushing pink. He looks down at his fidgeting hands, the epitome of bashful, when he adds, “Actually, now that you’re yourself again, I was going to ask if you wanted to go on a date with me sometime.”

Your insides melt.

“Really?” you practically squeal, trying not to sound too eager. “Ah, I mean. That would be cool, or whatever.”

Before you can convince yourself not to, you give Steve a quick kiss on the cheek. He beams at you, but you both roll your eyes when you hear Robin, Jonathan, and Nancy hoot and holler from a few yards away.

Everything will be fine, now. You’ll be fine. That’s what you tell yourself when Phil drives you home and LeAnn gives you a million hugs and says how happy she is that you’re okay. That’s what you tell yourself when you fall asleep after having a lovely text conversation with Steve. That’s what you tell yourself when you have nightmares about being stuck as the Hacker forever, nightmares where he escapes jail and kills you (and everyone you love) once and for all.

But you tell yourself it’s fine, that you’re fine. That nothing is wrong, despite the chill down your spine that can’t quite go away.

🔪🔪🔪

a/n a happy yet spooky ending. is everything really fine? is the hacker really gone for good? maybe I'll write a sequel one day. or maybe I won't, as to not torture y/n any more.

tag list: @hollandweather @starry-eyed-steve @aloneinthehellfire @a-dealwith-god

if any of my mutuals (or anyone else) would like to be tagged in any of my future steve fics, lmk!

#st fic: superfreaky #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n

56 notes · View notes

wingzie · 29 days

Note

Hi Lovely!

You are the G.O.A.T Jikook historian and I love, love, love your threads on Twitter. I also love your posts you’ve been doing here on your thoughts and perspectives all things Jikook, jikookers and the fandom.

I have a question. I’ve already talked about it a while ago but I wanted your take. What’s your opinion on people feeling like Jikook haven’t been the same post-2020 and the fact that EVEN MORE feel like since chapter two Jikook are not in a ‘relationship’ anymore. I use ‘relationship’ as it’s the easiest word to use for them for this ask, whatever people believe the labels for Jikook’s jikooking should be.

Do you think that:

a. There IS a difference in Jikook of the past and Jikook of now?

b. Do you think that if they once had something they no longer do?

c. Do you think that Jikook are no longer close after chapter 2.

We know Jikook are currently serving together and used the buddy system but apart from that, if you were to answer the above with evidence as the Jikook historian you are, what’s your take.

Thank you for your part in making Jikook spaces fun and informative 😉

💜

Hello! Thank you for your kind words and for sending in the ask. Let’s get into it with some honest truths: I don’t see a difference and I don’t think anything has changed. I am very much aware of what people are saying, but this is a pattern that repeats itself every single time there is less content to “feed” those who are less patient. Or, even worse, those who want to control Jimin and Jungkook.

On 8th March 2020, BTS were told that their April concerts in Seoul would be cancelled. As we know, this later included the cancellation of their entire tour. Both the members and entire fandom were very upset about this, but I remember very vividly reading takes on the Jikook side of Tumblr saying: "but what about our Jikook content?" When, in all honesty, that should never have been the main focus when the entire world was experiencing a pandemic. I've seen this complaint several times. This happened during their vaction in 2019 and it's even happening now whilst they are in the military. It is incredibly selfish. I may be a Jikooker, but I understand that Jimin and Jungkook are their own people.

Hindsight is also a wonderful thing. There are a lot of times that we don't know about something, until it is revealed later on. We didn't know that Jikook ate dinner together after one of their concerts until the docuseries was released. This goes for 2018 AND in 2022. There are certain things that Jikook do because it is to heavily engrained into their routine together. We just won't always witness or hear about it.

How is this all linked though? There has been a change in content releases. We were used to Memories being released every summer and a Run episode every Tuesday. Episode 155 was the last weekly episode, released in October 2021. The last Special Episode was released in February 2023. They would have been filmed years apart, but they still show the same closeness and loving spirit. Both of these episodes also included some Jimin butt loving from Jungkook!

When chapter 2 began, it was obvious that Jimin and Jungkook were focusing on their own things. They do not have a persona in BTS to explore with, so this was their chance to share their stories or experiment with other music. Though busy, they still supported each other massively with social media posts or hyping each other on Lives. This is another pattern which has maintained over the years.

We also know that they have been on several trips together. They may have been on many more that we don't know of. I personally don't worry about it, I just support them as much as I can without putting any pressure on them. That would be unfair. I just think that whenever we do see anything from them, we are very lucky.

I know this response is probably what you (and others) weren't expecting, but I think those saying these things are probably too involved in Jimin and Jungkook's lives. That also goes with the amount of leaked photos and videos lately that I have seen on all platforms. Respect goes a long way and some are abusing it. (And thank you for always showing it in your own posts!) I am working on a "Jikook during Chapter Two" post, coming soon!

#wingzie #wingzieanon

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jaeyunlover · 23 days

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This is why we can’t be together

2020/6/18

Graduation day

Today was the final day of high school, I was finally escaping this hell hoe. This place I’ve been captivated by was now out of my reach after today.

“Now crossing the stage is (y/n)(l/n) hour 4 year honors student, she has been able to make it through all 4 years of high school with a 4.5 gpa, she is someone to look up to with that being said let’s hear a few words from ms.(L/N)” the principal said making everyone applaud me as I walked on stage, but for some reason I felt this strange feeling in my chest as I approached the mic.

The fuck was going on with me did reality hit me once and for all? “Hello fellow students,parents and administrators, I would like to say thank you for all the support and encouragement I received during this year. I want to thank everyone for all of the help and positive energy that you gave me, I know this seems last minute but it’s not Much to say. I hope the next chapter of my life is filled with surprises and good news. I hope I can inspire others and the next graduating year to do there best (y/n)(l/n) signing out” I said throw my cap in the air making the other graduates do the same.

As the ceremony began to come to an end and I bid my farewells to the other students I realized reality had hit me across the head like a drunk man out of his mind, Getting inside my car I got a call from my mother and father “sorry we couldn’t make it we were…” “busy” my father said interpreting my mother, but of course I knew they were making excuses “it’s fine, it’s not like this is the first time you couldn’t make it to something important to me”I said smiling and hanging up, I sighed as I put my head on the steering wheel thinking of what I could’ve done so wrong that everyone just neglects me but it doesn’t matter now it’s all over after graduating I decided to move. Yeah that’s what I’ll do. I’ll just move. No one can find me and I have a start.

Getting interrupted by my thoughts. from a knock on my window it was my crush that I had like since my freshman year he’s always been so nice to me. How could I not like him his name was Amari Miller a.k.a. first love, but I guess he didn’t realize that I liked him or he dated just did not want to acknowledge it. I wasn’t the prettiest little bunch, but, I still show effort and affection. “ Hey Amari, how are you? I haven’t seen you since you know.” I said blushing. “Oh yeah about that you know I’ve been studying. Everly didn’t have time to hang out it was our last year” Amari said. “oh yeah, totally I understand. Of course you thought about any colleges you’re going to” I said stuttering “um no not yet. I’ve just decided after school is going to help my family with their business.” he said awkward smile “ oh that seems nice” I said looking at the window “how about you?” he asked “well, I’m going out of the country to study abroad.” I said, a little happy “WHAT REALLY!” He said a little shocked “yeah” I giggled “why” he ask with a smitten look.

No, why was he looking like that? What was really going on? “Oh I guess just to start over” I said “what about emory he’s gonna be so upset” he said huh? The fuck is he saying

“Why would he be upset” I asked confused “ah , you see I came her to ask if you would want to go on a double date with me and Emory” he said stammering over his words “oh… and who would you go with?” I ask with a sad look on my face. This was torture I knew it “my crush,Sasha” he said with a blush like smile on his face “oh my friend” I said dead like “I see, so you wanted me to ask her to come with me because your to scared to ask for yourself” I asked him playing with my thumbs “well I’m not scared but yeah” he said still smiling “hey Amari” I called out looking out the window “you aren’t aware of anything are you” I said with tears running down my face not looking his way. “ y/n what -what are you talking about” he asked clearly knowing what I’m talking about “I like you Amari , didn’t you know?” I said wiping the tears off my face to turn to him only to see him with the most disgusted look in his eyes I’ve ever seen “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT Y/N” he yelled in the car “IS THIS A FUCKING JOKE”he continue to yell “yeah, I’m joking” I said forcing myself to laugh “oh y/n you had me scared for a moment” he said join in the laughter “damn so if it was true you were gonna yell at me” I said still “laughing” “no, I just knew you were joking , to be honest if you were serious I would have just got outta the car and left and acted as if I didn’t hear anything” he said laughing.

I just sat there looking at him with a sharp pain in my chest “hey y/n” said loitering his words “you were serious weren’t you?” He questioned I just sat there contemplating whether I should answer him or not but the answer he gave me made me realize I didn’t want to answer so I gave him the most stink look in the world and told him to get out of my car. I think he already knew the answer to question after that day, I went M.i.a. And apparently Sasha and him had officially started dating. They still try to get in contact with me day after day, but I just don’t answer. What was I gonna do?

TBC….

Official drop hehehe

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 4 months

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Spring 2020 - JAG Headquarters Naval Base San Diego

Chapter 6 Part 2 of You Are My Soulmate

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Description: Being at an inquiry has been incredibly difficult. It always is, from what Bradley's heard. But that the inquiry is for his soulmate and he can't do anything to help makes it worse. When the verdict is awarded, all he can do is hold his soul as she sobs with relief. Maybe this is the chance for him to make things right with her?

Disclaimers: Misogynistic speech. Mentioned Homosexual Relationships. Angst. Flagrant disregard for protocols or Authority. Angst. Anguish. The author has no idea how Navy inquiries go (so take all the legalese with a grain of salt).

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

Warnings: Female!Reader

Word Count: 3792

A/N: Can Rooster fix things with his soulmate? I hope so! We're going to see a lot more of Rooster and Tinkerbell together over the next chapters! I hope you all adore it!

I’m neither a law professional nor in the US Navy. In this more than any chapter for this story I’ve written, I implore you to ignore the pseudo-legalese and my fragrant lack of knowledge regarding military inquiry protocol.

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

My Masterlist

Previous Part | Series Masterlist | Next Part

Rooster

In the unspeakably tense moments after Commander Marks requests the charges against Tinkerbell dropped, Bradley reels, quietly sitting in his chair. He’d known Hawk was responsible for his accident; he’d been told so weeks ago. But seeing the footage, seeing Hawk affix something to his jet maliciously, deliberately, is something he cannot fathom. He wouldn't be here to testify if he had been just a touch more reckless and rash. And where would his actions leave Tinkerbell?

It had shocked him, seeing her vivacious eyes and smiling mouth dull and stern. She’d looked entirely unlike the firecracker he’d come to admire. The stress had bowed those strong shoulders, bent her proud neck, and caused an imperceptible shiver in those petite, calloused, usually grease-stained fingers. She had looked like an entirely different person in the courtyard during the recess Pops had so willingly granted. With dark, deep-set bags under her eyes, she’d looked so tired yet so indescribably gorgeous he’d fought his way through the crowd to sit beside her, to provide some of his own strength to his flagging soul. The longer they sat there, the more he’d had to concentrate on hearing her quiet, beaten-down voice, the stronger his resolve had grown, and the more his soul had seemed to sing.

She is yours. Yours. Yours. Yours. MINE

He’s sure more than ever Tinkerbell is his. He just has to redeem himself. After all, Bradshaws don’t have platonic soulmates. Bradley’s more than aware of the rumors floating through the Navy about his dads - both his adoptive duo and his birth. When he was just figuring out the rough landscapes of love, Mav sat him down and explained the different bonds people could have - the different loves they could bear. Goose, Mav had explained, had more bonds than anyone he knew. Goose was a man of love, fiery and bright at times and syrupy slow at others, wrapping people in his heart like they were made to belong there. Goose had been so filled with love for his mother it had been palpable even when he spoke about her. That same love he’d extended to his wingmen, those few colleagues whom he considered friends and brothers.

“Bradshaws are big-hearted, Bradley. Your mom has a big heart, and so did your dad. I know you have a heart bigger than both your parents.”

He hadn’t realized how true Mav’s statement was until he was thousands of miles away from his family, alone and cold, with only a new-found fiery sister of his heart to keep him company. Since those dark, cold early days, he’s shared his love with more friends, reclaimed his family, and built lasting friendships with the other Daggers. Only his friendship, his love, keeps him from lurching to his feet as Hawk spews his poison about women in the service, like the two women he mentioned aren’t worth easily ten times as much to the Navy as he is. Both of those women are more than capable of fighting their own battles.

For Natasha Trace, his robust and fiery protector and best friend and sister, all rolled into one person, Hawk’s words are a cross too heavy to bear. Bradley doesn’t stop her. How could he when he’s aware of how hard she’s had to work to get to where she is? It doesn’t surprise him when the other Daggers stand in solidarity next to him, inadvertently blocking the MPs from disturbing Natasha from her task. It’s Jake and Javy, sharing a look he can’t decipher who collect her, her chest heaving, her eyes wild as she stares at Hawk’s battered face with unadulterated rage. This isn’t calm, cool, collected Natasha Trace. This is Phoenix standing there, flames crackling under her skin with all the forces of a vengeful god as she stares at the downed figure of the man who has hurt friends twice over.

When the MPs haul Hawk upright again, his nose is broken, bright red gushing out of the appendage as lurid bruises bloom to life around his eyes. At that moment, it’s more than apparent who still has strength and poise and is the proper Naval Officer between the pair. Hint: It’s not the man listing on his feet and unable to salute the COMPACFLT of the US Navy or meet his eyes as he stalks out of the room. It’s the slim, dark-haired woman with fire in her eyes and pure steel for a spine with bruised, broken knuckles held unflinchingly in a salute. Now, he sees the warrior she is, the strength in his best friend, as the Daggers move in a coordinated mass of highly awarded personnel, collect Tinkerbell, and walk out of JAG Headquarters.

Neither of the women surrounded by the Daggers breaks until they’re deep in the parking lot. Tinkerbell breaks first, her sobs quiet, barely withheld gasps of pain as her fear drains away. It’s like an earthquake shattering Bradley’s calm. He pushes his crutches into someone’s hands - maybe Payback or Fanboy- and stumbles to her. It’s telling, he thinks suddenly, when neither Jake nor Javy stops him as he limps by. But when Tink’s face tips up, tears making glistening tracks down her cheeks, he can’t resist pulling her close. He can feel the shudder in her frame as she buries her face into his chest and cries like she can’t believe she won, or more likely, like she can’t accept her win in addition to Hawk’s defeat. Bradley hasn’t stood on his feet in so long that the strain is evident as his aching muscles hold her weight in addition to his own. But he will not fold to his body’s whims, not at this moment. He’s surrounded by the citrus scent of her perfume, her hair like silk against his fingers, catching at the rough pads as he holds her close. When her arms wrap around his waist, clutching tight and pulling him in closer, he finally breathes a sigh of relief. This is where he belongs, where she does - wrinkled dress uniforms be damned.

He's not sure if Nat breaks or when she does, not until later when he's been unwillingly parted from his soul and after he's showered and been able to sit with the knowledge he's been granted during the trial.

“You like her, don't you, Rooster?” Bradley shrugs, careful not to jostle her hand in his as he cleans the split, bruised knuckles. “I mean, I wasn’t sure if you did, not for the longest time. But that embrace outside of JAG today? That’s when I knew for sure.”

“It feels inevitable, Nat. Like I was always meant to.” She lets him avoid her gaze, lets him stay rapt in the careful, slow disinfection of her wounds. Nat hasn't flinched once, despite how much the rubbing alcohol must hurt.

“She's your soulmate, isn’t she?” Bradley gasps a little, his words getting trapped as he tapes Nat’s knuckles up and busies himself with putting away the roll of gauze and all the ointments he used in their proper places. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Bradley shrugs. “Would you believe it if I said I didn’t know?”

“How is that possible?” Nat’s pacing circles into the tile of Bradley’s kitchen, her hands restlessly tapping against her thighs as she moves. “Didn’t you have the dreams leading you to her all along?”

“I’ve only had a single soul dream since turning 21, Nat.” Bradley’s gentle as he pushes his best friend onto the soda.

“It happened in the middle of the night on the first carrier I was posted to after flight school.” Bradley can hear her realization as he dips into his fridge for several beer bottles.

“Wait, did this happen at the same time you crashed?” His smile is rueful as he hands his best friend one of the bottles.

Bradley sips on the cold liquid, suddenly needing something to whet his parched throat. “Yeah, Nat. It was the same day I woke up with the scars on my face. It was also the day I swore not to find my soulmate.”

“Why would you do that, you idiot?” Hearing the anguish in her voice, Bradley jerks his head up. What he sees is something he’s not seen in years. A tear is tracking down Natasha Trace’s cheek, anguish in her eyes. The last time he saw Nat cry was when she’d earned her callsign, her first ejection from a flaming fireball. There was abject terror, fear, and a strong sense of her own mortality in her that day. This time, the pain is for a completely different reason as she rockets to her feet.

“You know!” Her arms curl around her ribcage like she’s trying to give herself a frantic, unwelcoming hug. “You know how much I would give to have my soulmate. I would have given anything to wake up on my twenty-first birthday and have a name on my wrist in bold black. Not one faded to the color of my skin.” When he reaches for her, she slaps his hands away. “I would give anything to have a chance. So, do you want to run this by me again? Why you didn’t want to find yours?”

“I….” Bradley can’t lie, not when his best friend looks so angry and sad. “I didn’t want to risk someone else’s happiness. Not when I know how dangerous it is, doing what we do, Nat.”

“I was two years old when my dad died. We were here on North Island, Mom and I. We’d come down the weekend before to see him. He’d promised to take me to a baseball game after Hop 31 because it was supposed to be a half day. When it happened, it felt like my world stopped, Nat. My mom crashed to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut. I’m sure now that she felt the moment he died. She was nearly catatonic, Nat. I had to let the Admirals in when they came to tell us he was gone as she screamed, wailed, and sobbed.”

When Bradley looks up at his best friend, he knows tears are cascading down his face, mirroring hers. “How, Nat? How could I put someone else through the pain I’ve already felt once in my life? I’m sure now that feeling my dad’s death killed my Mom, Nat. She wasn’t the same afterward. I had Mav and his own soulmate, sure. But it wasn’t the same. I should have had my dad.”

“What changed your mind, then?” Bradley knows that Nat’s forgiven him. “It had to have changed sometime between then and now. Because the way you held her after we left headquarters? That embrace wasn’t platonic.”

“I nearly died during the accident, Nat. One month in a coma and all of the rehab after it showed me how fragile my life is. I’m not ready to waste another minute of it. Tinkerbell….” Bradley can’t hide the joy on his face, expressing itself in a soft smile. “She feels so right to be around. I haven’t been happy over the past few months. But talking to her during the recess Admiral Kazansky granted? I felt happy and light. I felt like I found the place where I belonged.”

When Nat collapses onto the sofa beside him, he knows he’s won this disagreement.

“So what are you going to do? How are you going to whoo her?”

It’s a question Bradley doesn’t have the answer to. Everything in him still screams he should attempt to be her friend first. He mulls it over through the night, waking up feeling unrested yet filled with nervous energy. Unsurprisingly, though, his day on base is filled with paperwork. He’s still a month from being cleared to fly, and filing reports for the Admirals is all he’s allowed to do. Maybe Mav will let him help with training one of these days?

It's when he goes in search of his godfather that he meanders past Hangar Two. A Welcome Back banner is spread across the back wall, and a few strands of sparkly tinsel are strewn across the floor. Besides that, it seems to be business as usual for the AMDO team. But Bradley can’t see Tinkerbell. She usually wanders with her tablet in hand, chatting and laughing with her team. He loiters near the open hangar door for a few moments but eventually leaves when he sees maintenance crew members approaching.

Unsurprisingly, when Bradley tracks Mav down, he's ecstatic to have help with the lesson plans. It feels good talking about flying. That one afternoon has him dreaming about flying again. He can’t wait to get back into the cockpit of his jet. He never does find Tinkerbell that day on base. Nor does he find her during the next one or the one after that. It worries him not seeing her around the base. Commander Grayson is still lurking around, his face expressionless as he leads the AMDO team that should rightfully be hers. The case of the missing Tinkerbell concerns him, so much so that he keeps an unconscious eye out for her and her pretty red convertible even when he's out running errands in the Bronco the following weekend.

It's a beautiful spring day. The sun is out, a delicious breeze is blowing in from the ocean, and Bradley feels at peace. Bradley’s out purchasing Goose’s favorite beer and Ice’s favorite vodka for the freezer as a favor to Mav. It’s been a very long time since he’s had the chance to celebrate his dad’s birthday with his dad’s closest friends. Most of his dad’s Top Gun cohort are flying into North Island - Hollywood, Wolfman, Slider, Merlin, Chipper, Sundown - the whole gang will be in the same place again for the first time since ‘86. Bradley hopes they won’t hold a grudge against him for the years of no contact.

When he pulls his car into the parking lot of The Hard Deck hours before opening, he's surprised to see the cherry red convertible he's been searching for all week right there. When he saunters into the bar, she’s not in there. He’s half aware of what he’s saying as he gives Mav’s colossal drink list to Penny. But really, he’s jumping at every sound in the building, every creak, moan, and groan as the sea-soaked wooden surfaces settle around them. His head is on a swivel, and his eyes are peeled for one person’s sweet smile and melodious voice.

“Bradley?” He yanks his attention back to Penny, who has known him since he was a baby, with a sheepish grin.

“She’s out on the beach.” He starts, looking at her. “Pete told me a little bit of what’s happened. She was meant for you. Go to her. It looks like she needs you. It will take me a while to compile this ridiculous drinks list anyway. Of course, Pete would need upwards of 5 gallons of alcohol!”

Bradley feels like he’s living in an alternate universe as he staggers onto the sand. Everyone in his life seems content to step back and let the Fates drag Tinkerbell and him together. Why doesn’t anyone seem to see how much he’s hurt her? Why doesn’t anyone seem to see how much he has hurt himself? Why is nobody threatening him - ordering him to take care of her? Do they only see what he does in the mirror? The sad, sorry soul covered in scars who only wants to make her smile? The person who never wants to see her cry again? Or do they see the villainous knave who will break her heart? Bradley’s no longer sure what he’ll see in a mirror - the protector or the heartbreaker.

All the questions get washed out with the tide as he finally sees Tinkerbell. She’s in a tie-dye print white sundress, toes stretched out in the sand as the tide wets them. Her hair is loose around her face, whipped around by the wind, and if the sight of her doesn’t take his breath away, her smile at the sight of him does. He can see it now as he staggers unsteadily across the sand on his crutches, the sweet grin, her lips looking plush and glistening in the sunlight.

“Hi, Bradley.” He wobbles a little at the naked affection in her voice, plonking down almost too heavily onto the blanket she’s sitting on. Half his ass is on the blanket, and the other half is definitely in damp sand, but he doesn’t mind. Not when she giggles at him and then grabs his crutches to lay them carefully out on her other side.

“Hi, Tinkerbell.” He lets himself lean just until his arm brushes hers. It’s silent out here, just the air rifling through his hair and clothes, snatching at the full skirt of Tinkerbell’s pretty sundress.

“What’re you doing out here, Bradley?” Bradley can’t believe how good his name sounds falling out of his soulmate’s mouth.

“I came to buy some drinks from Penny.” Faced with Tink’s big doe eyes and soft smile, Bradley lets the whole story spill, telling Tinkerbell about the annual celebration for Goose Bradshaw that Mav plans.

“It must be nice,” There’s a faraway look in her eyes as she looks out of the blue ocean. “To have so much family coming to see you, to celebrate your father’s life even after so many years.”

“Where are your folks, Tink?” Her head jerks up, mouth parting in shock as her cheeks flush. She wraps her arms around her knees, resting her cheek on her knees, facing him. The new position allows Bradley to see the smooth skin of her back and a glimpse of stark ink curling around her right side. It’s too soon to kiss her soft skin, right?

“My parents are on the East Coast.” There’s something sad in her voice as she clutches her knees to her chest like she’s holding in her emotions. “I haven’t seen them in a few years. Not since before I was on the Nimitz.”

“I’ve been on or deploying out of the West Coast for much of the last decade. I talk to them on the phone whenever I can, but it never feels like it’s enough. I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be with my family. I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be loved by a family.”

Bradley can sense the despair in her voice as he scoots closer and mirrors her position as much as he can. “Can I tell you a secret?”

At her shy nod, he takes a breath before fishing in the pocket of his jeans for a handkerchief. He hands the folded-up, square of fabric to her.

“You also gave me one of these in the atrium during the inquiry.” Her voice is soft as she traces over the embroidered name and monogram on the fabric.

“Yeah.” Bradley’s voice quiets even further. This close, all he can smell is the salty sea breeze and the citrus of Tinkerbell’s perfume. “Those kerchiefs belonged to my dad, Nicolas Edward Bradshaw. They were an anniversary present from my mom to him for their fourth wedding anniversary. These kerchiefs are one of the few things I remember about my dad, Tink. Every time I cried, my dad used to swoop in with one of these kerchiefs, the ones my mom always ironed and lightly starched for him. It was a labor of love for her. He even had one of these kerchiefs in his flight suit the day he died. I’ve been carrying them around with me ever since my eighteenth birthday because I needed a little bit of Goose Bradshaw’s indomitable spirit when I thought I was alone.”

“I’m sorry, Bradley.” He takes her hand in his at her apology, drawing them up until he can kiss her knuckles.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry about. What I wanted to say is that I remember these kerchiefs in his hands. I remember the smell of the starch my mom used. I remember how soft the fabric was against my face. But I don’t remember much else of my father. I get snatches of his voice every once in a while or hear his laughter in the wind. Everything else I know of my father comes from the stories I’ve heard my whole life. I can’t tell anyone who knew him this. They all look at me like I’m horrible for forgetting him. But I was so young when he died, so absorbed in growing up, that it feels like I missed out on knowing him, so therefore, I missed out on grieving him entirely.”

“I’m not sure my dad knew how much I loved him when he died. For that matter, when my mom passed away from cancer when I was sixteen, and the dumbest little shit, did she know? Did she know how much I loved her? Did they know how much I missed them when they were gone?”

The words dry up in his throat then because tears are brimming in Tinkerbell’s eyes. Her voice is soft as she squeezes his hand back like he did hers.

“They knew, Bradley. They knew you loved them then. I’m sure they know you love them now, as well. I’m so sure that if they had the choice to stay or go, they would have picked to stay here with you for as long as they could.”

“I know, sweetheart.” A small, disbelieving smile curls up the corners of her mouth. “But they left a family behind for me. It took me over a decade after my mom passed away to realize they did, but I’m done taking my family for granted.”

Her small giggle makes him smile, too. He ducks forward and carefully dabs the tears away.

“Basically, sweetheart, I brought that up to ask you a question.” At her nod, Bradley inhales. “Would you want to come with me? To celebrate my dad tonight?”

“His birthday is today?” There’s disbelief on her face, lips parted slightly.

“Yeah. Mav holds a get-together for everyone my parents considered family at his place every year.” Bradley’s got his heart in his throat. Would his soulmate want to meet his family this soon? Please let her say yes. He can’t think of a better way to introduce Tinkerbell to his family.

“I’d be happy to.” Her smile sets his heart alight as she stands up and helps him stand. Before Tinkerbell folds up the blanket, she wraps her arms around his waist, soaking in his warmth. His heart thuds frantically as he walks her up to the Hard Deck because it finally feels like good things are happening.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

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#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #you are my soulmate #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #soulmate!au #miscommunication

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averagewriter-inthedark · 1 year

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Flying High…On The Bars🤸🏽‍♂️ | Top Gun Maverick Imagine (Bob Floyd) Part 1

Takes place after the events of TGM

TGM Masterlist

PART 2 HERE

Characters & Pairings: Lt. Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Olympic gymnast!reader (romantic), Dagger squad x reader (platonic)

Content Warnings: fluff, mentions of sporting injuries, slight profanity, recounts details of 2012, 2016, & 2020 Olympic Games. | Female!reader (she/her) | wc: 9.4k—I decided to split this into 2 parts because it was almost at 20k words.

Premise: When one sets their eyes on the Olympic dream, it becomes their life. When one falls in love with a person committed to achieving that dream, it becomes theirs as well. One year after a global pandemic shut down the world and two years after the high-risk uranium mission of the Top Gun special detachment, the dagger squad gather in Bob’s home base of Lemoore, California to witness the love of his life compete for a final shot at All-Around gold in the worlds greatest gymnastics competition. Prepping for her final Olympic Games, gold medalist Y/n L/n thinks back on her decade long career, and the moment she met the man of her dreams.

Note: Y’all I am loving these sport imagines for TGM I’ve been doing. I think imma do a soccer or tennis next 👀 now disclaimer this imagine does recount details that took place in the Olympics mentioned, but there were changes to the narrative to fit the story. Basically you’re imagining it was you on the teams instead, so don’t come at me saying, ‘that didn’t happen.’ I kept the outcomes for certain scenarios the same, but then changed others to fit Y/n’s place. Hope you enjoy and let me know your thoughts. Also like my ‘For The Gold’ imagine, I’m going off the basis that the events of TGM took place in 2019, not 2022.

I also wanna disclaim that I am very aware of scandal that took place with USA gymnastics. I have decided to not mention it in this miniseries for the sake of not triggering anyone and because I do not want to spread misinformation in case I were to miss things. Of course we know it happened, and it just makes me angry and disgusted to even think about that doctor and I do not want to trigger anyone at all. I do mention Nadia Comaneci in this (she was my idol when I did gymnastics) but do know I do not mention her coaches who were involved in the scandal. I loved Nadia, not her coaches and I’m just as disgusted with them as I am with that doctor. My heart is with all the gymnasts who were affected.

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“It’s 6:30 am Eastern time back home in the US, however it is 8:30 pm here in Tokyo on Thursday, July 29th, as we get set up to watch the final of the Women’s All-Around in artistic gymnastics. The men competed last night, and it was an unfortunate loss for both Americans after failing to medal in the Team. It was silver for the women’s two nights ago in the team final, losing to the ROC by about four points in the overall score—the first time the American’s have lost the gold in the Team since reclaiming the title after The Magnificent Seven in 1996.”

“It was a shocker to many people, John. Team USA have dominated the international level of gymnastics for over a decade now. They have been the Olympic champions in the Women’s All-Around since Carly Patterson won the title in Athens, they were the two-time gold medalists in the Team and have had someone on the podium in almost every event for the past few Games—Simone Biles dominated Rio four years ago. They were the favorite to win on the team final, but fell short and I know it must’ve been a sad loss for Y/n L/n on Tuesday after being part of both the London and Rio winning teams.” The tv screen was split with the coverage showing the commentators and footage from the 2012 London Olympics. It focused on the gymnast standing on the podium with her teammates, gold medals around their necks and waving to the crowd.

“I agree, Andrea. You know she is the first American gymnast since Dominique Dawes to make it on the team for three consecutive Olympics. After last night she became the second American, after Dawes, to medal in three consecutive Olympics—silver medal in the team final. She’s the veteran, having been in the elite stage since 2011 where she won her first World title on the bars. In London she walked away with three gold medals, the team, the uneven bars, and the balance beam. It was history for the USA gymnastics that Olympics with Gabby Douglas becoming the first African-American to win the All-Around and Y/n L/n as the first American to win gold on the bars in its individual final. L/n then repeated her victories in Rio—making Olympic history for Team USA again with back-to-back gold in the team, bars, and beam.”

“You know it was a big surprise when she appeared at the trials in June. After winning her seventh World’s title on bars in 2019 Y/n was hoping to get the gold on beam after reclaiming it in 2018, but a bad fall on the apparatus tore her ACL. It would have put her out of the trials had it taken place in 2020, but Covid canceled the entire 2020 season and the Olympics were postponed a whole year. Y/n didn’t say anything about coming back to the sport after recovering until after the VISA championships when it was revealed she petitioned for a spot in the trials. Both Aly Raisman and Gabby Douglas, who were her teammates the last two Games have since retired. I really thought it would be the same for Y/n L/n, but she surprised everyone.”

“She already, Allen, has made history in her own way by becoming the first American to win the gold back-to-back on two individual events—her signature event the uneven bars that she’s got multiple world titles to as you mentioned, and the balance beam. Many predicted Simone, the favorite to win on beam, would come out on top since it’s one of her strong factors, but an unfortunate mistake cost her the gold. Then in bars Y/n unveiled a massive dismount, becoming her fifth eponymous skill rated a J-Value. The gold medal was already hers at that point. ”

Now the split screen had a reply of the stunning routine on the uneven bars. The second her feet hit the floor and her arms raised over her head, the then two-time Olympian already knew she had secured the gold.

“That was an amazing moment to witness. The entire stadium was holding their breath. Y/n had already established herself as one of the best gymnasts on the uneven bars since her debut on the national team in 2010. Her routine in London was flawless, both in the team and event finals. After the Trials her teammates selected her as the captain of this squad and has really shown true leadership in these Games—we’ve seen it during qualifications and the team finals, comforting the team when the results came in. Her and Simone shared a moment together after the vault when Simone decided to pull out for the remainder of the competition. The veteran gymnast making a statement on Twitter in defense of Simone when she was receiving criticisms for her decision. Y/n’s definitely taken the role of big sister—the oldest at aged 25– and I know the girls are likely having some difficulty without family and friends to support with the regulations set for these Games. There’s no spectators in this arena save for the media and volunteers. Each nation was only allowed to bring one coach if I’m not mistaken so all the gymnasts are having to adjust. Definitely a different feel these Games no doubt—especially for Y/n who has got to experience the energy one sees in an Olympics with a full house. She’s the fan favorite for this All-Around in Tokyo and it’s going to be interesting to see if Y/n can deliver on Sunday as well and pull a three-peat on the uneven bars—the first for Team USA.”

“It’s definitely going to be an interesting Games no doubt now that it’s been confirmed Simone Biles will not be competing in the All-Around final citing concerns with her mental health. After pulling out of the Team finals it was unknown if she would continue in the All-Around and event finals. She and Y/n were the top two Americans to qualify—the first time for Y/n in her now third Olympics after having not been selected to compete for it in the preliminaries in London and lost to teammate Aly Raisman in Rio. Sunisa Lee has replaced Simone in this final and now the two Americans will go head to head for the title of Olympic Champion.” More replays showed of not only past Olympics but also the preliminaries from Saturday showcasing the contenders for the All-Around; Suni Lee in her Olympic debut and the now three-time Olympic gymnast Y/n L/n.

Thousands of miles across the Pacific Ocean where the sun is not even out as it reaches 3:30 in the morning, members of the 2019 Top Gun special detachment, Navy servicemen & women, and residents of Lemoore, California gathered in the gym of Taylor’s Elite Gymnastics Y/n spent 20 years training in.

“You excited, Bobby Boy?” Jake clapped his friends back, shaking his shoulders lightly in a playful manner. “Ready to cheer on the missus?”

Bob scoffs, but blushes nonetheless, “of course I am, Bagman. This is everything she’s trained for. If I could be there I would be the loudest in the stands” Jake makes a sound, muttering, ‘simp,’ causing Bob to brush him off. Phoenix comes over two cups of coffee, handing one over to her backseater.

“Leave him alone, Seresin,” she scolds, “if that was your wife you’d be doing the same thing.” Jake falls silent making Payback chuckle from his spot on the beanbag in front of the four, “he’s not saying anything ‘cause he knows it’s true.”

Fanboy pitches in, munching on some mini donuts, “he’s probably just still salty Y/n wouldn’t hook him up with one of her old teammates. Or that one swimmer he used to gush about.” From the side Rooster explodes in a loud laugh, causing Jake to glare at him. Coyote has to bite back a grin, not wanting to show amusement at his best friend's bad luck.

The pilot wipes a fake tear, still giggling, “Sorry, that was just really funny.” While the others began to tease Jake, Bob focused on the screen. Softness in his eyes as he watched the NBC live coverage, showing footage of Y/n warming up while in the corner of the screen had replays of her 2016 Games in Rio. His heart was hurting he couldn’t be in the stands due to Covid, but regardless Bob was over the moon with love and happiness for his wife.

Since the age of 5 the gym was her second home after her mother put her in a mommy & me gymnastics class. Bouncing on the trampoline was really what made the child fall in love. She could be there all day if they’d let her. Then after a few more classes that were meant for just some bonding time between mother and daughter, Y/n begged to be placed in the regular lessons after seeing the older girls swinging on the bars and balancing on the beam.

It was the start of a career that would span over a decade when Y/n began competing, claiming multiple national titles, world championships, and three Olympic Games.

In 2004 Y/n sat glued to the TV watching Team USA compete in the Athens Olympic Games. Carly Patterson was crowned Olympic Champion of the All-Around and Y/n knew at that moment she wanted to become an Olympian.

Her parents were hesitant, especially after talking to other parents during Y/n’s lessons, to pull her from school and dedicate all her time to training. There was also the topic of moving to find a coach. Many gymnasts they read up on had traveled to different gyms and had lifelong coaches. For Y/n, her family wanted to stay in Lemoore. Her father had done time in the Navy and was stationed there when he met Y/n’s mother. They fell in love and her father decided to end his contract with the Navy to be with her mother. Not long after he ended up getting a good civilian job on base with Y/n being born in 1996.

What made her parents decide to go through with full-time training were the owners of the gym. Mike and Mary Taylor. Husband and wife who together ran and coached the gymnasts. It was a fairly new gym—having only opened in 2000 so they never had one of their students go to the international level. “There is a fire in her, we both see it. She’s got the dedication, the spirit, and we would love to be the ones to help her achieve the dream of the Olympics. And we would do everything in our souls to make it happen. When we look at her, we see a future Olympic champion.”

So the deal was set. Y/n would become homeschooled and spend nearly 10 hours in the gym everyday. After waking up she would have breakfast with a smoothie before starting one of two 5-hour practices. Mornings were dedicated to bars and beam with Mike and afternoons with Mary on floor and vault. Lunch would be in between and then after dinner Y/n would condition with a personal trainer. Within a couple years she had worked up to level 5 and began competing in meets.

It was learned very quickly that Y/n had a talent for the uneven bars. She was strong on the beam and good on floor and vault, but bars is where she shined. An All-Around gymnast, Y/n put more focus in perfecting her bar routine than anything else. It was where she felt like she had a better chance at becoming an Olympic champion. Flying high in the air on releases brought joy and hitting a perfect handstand made Y/n feel like she was on top of the world.

Nadia Comaneci of Romania, the first gymnast in Olympic history to receive a perfect 10 in competition, was her idol and who Y/n strived to be like. She was the definition of perfection. Every moment of free time Y/n was watching reruns of the 1976 Games in Montreal where Nadia claimed the All-Around, Uneven Bars, and Balance Beam gold. Sometimes Y/n wished she could attempt to do the flawless routine, but the uneven bars were placed differently than they were in the 70s.

There was also the American Mary Lou Retton, the first American woman to win the All-Around at the 1984 Games in Los Angeles. Y/n admired many gymnasts from the former USSR in the 60s & 70s & 90s including Olga Korbut, Ludmilla Tourischeva, Nellie Kim, Larisa Latynina. Russia’s Svetlana Khorkina, Belarus’s Svetlana Boginskaya, and Vera Caslavska of the former Czechoslovakia were amongst Y/n’s idols in the sport.

And of course, the 1996 Magnificent Seven: Shannon Miller, Jaycie Phelps, Amanda Borden, Dominique Dawes, Dominique Moceanu, Amy Chow, and Kerri Strug. The team of women Y/n cited as her biggest inspirations. Y/n was born the year they won the US their first gold in the Women’s Team All-Around on home turf in Atlanta. Chills always appeared when watching replays of Kerri Strug landing the vault on practically one foot to secure the gold against Russia.

In 2010 at age 14 Y/n made her debut on the junior national team. She appeared in several championships, claiming titles to the uneven bars and balance beam. She never listened to commentators when watching replays of meets to see what she needed to improve, but there was always a heaviness to her heart when they would say she was unlikely to be an All-Around contender. “We’ve seen her these last competitions and there’s no doubt she will be a threat to other gymnasts when it comes to the uneven bars—her routine even here on the junior level is insane—and possibly balance beam, but there is a lot to be done for Y/n on the floor. She’s powerful on vault—as we saw in her Yurchenko 1 ½ twist, but fails to stick the landing and is always taking a large step with big deductions. She needs to control that power so she’s not catapulting forward on the landing.”

Her family and coaches reminded her to not listen to commentators or opinions of the media. It was hard first coming into the national stage, but by the 2012 U.S Olympic Team Trials Y/n was a pro at handling the them. She was 16, the reigning World Champion on the uneven bars, and looking to earn her place on the London team. The trials lasted two days with Y/n qualifying after finishing in the top 8 of the VISA Championships. 15 total girls including the Beijing All-Around Olympic Champion Nastia Liukin and member of the 2008 silver winning team Alicia Sacramone, all competed for one of the five spots on the team.

Like all the gymnasts in attendance, Y/n competed on every apparatus but it was her bars and beam routines that secured her spot for London. After a small mistake on the floor Y/n feared it would be the make or break in deciding if she would make the team since she did not rank in the top two places by the end of the trials. Her vaults were good form wise, though she needed to really work on sticking the landing better. When her name was called out in the back room Y/n burst into tears. Her coaches pulled into an embrace, crying with her, before she and the other four girls were hauled to the floor. The crowd of spectators were on their feet. Cheers from every corner.

Vision blurry, Y/n turned her gaze to the section her parents were seated in. When she found them the tears fell more rapidly at the sight of her father practically jumping up and down whistling while her mother was in her own emotional state. They blew kisses to her, Y/n returning them before waving to the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, your women’s 2012 London Olympic team!!!”

London was a dream come true.

The moment Y/n stepped into the arena she had to hold back her tears, pitching herself as though to say, ‘is this really happening?’ The smell of the chalk brought comfort. Y/n was itching to get on the bars and show the world what she was made of. Her teammates were some of the best gymnasts to exist with several World titles to their name. The pressure was on for these young women. The media and fans back home were hoping they would be the first team since the Magnificent Seven to win the gold in the team final. It was their goal, but they had tough competition against Russia and China.

The qualifications were intense, but the team as a whole managed to get the top rank to guarantee a spot in the final. After discussions with the appointed team coach, Y/n only competed on the bars and beam. Uneven bars was her strongest apparatus where she would no doubt deliver. The beam was her second strongest, with a difficult routine that when executed would bring a high score. It saddened the gymnast she would not get the chance at All-Around gold, but Y/n pushed her emotions aside to focus on the big picture. Rio was four years away, she could easily try for a spot on that team. For now, she needed to focus on getting the gold in her events.

Qualifying in the top spot on bars and beam, the next step was the Team final.

And it was one to remember.

The team kicked off on the vault where Gabby, Jordyn, and Aly gave a beautiful start to the competition. Russia was next before the second rotation: bars. Y/n was the last of the three Americans to perform after Russia went first. She kept her back to the bars when the Russian athletes were up, the golden rule of gymnastics that was learned very early on: never watch your competitors or pay attention to the standings. Very often will it jinx the performance of the gymnast who does. And Y/n was not about to let that happen.

When Kyla and Gabby were on, Y/n clapped and cheered them on alongside Aly and Jordyn. “C’mon Gabby, you got this!” Yes! Beautiful—one more big one!” “Stick it, Kyla—stick it! YEAH!!”

Then she was up.

A quick pep talk from Mike and Y/n stepped onto the platform and waited for the green light. When it appeared, she saluted the judge and faced the bars, taking a deep breath before running to punch her feet on the springboard, hitting her hands onto the low bar in a straddle position before catching the high bar. The entire routine Y/n didn’t think, she just let muscle memory take her away. Cheers from her teammates and the crowd fueled her. Release after release, handstand after handstand, kip up to the high bar from the low bar. The routine felt like forever but in reality it was only less than two minutes.

“Beautiful start off the springboard and onto the high bar—from here are a series of handstands which have become a staple in Y/n’s routines since the junior U.S Championships in 2010. Here we go on the first….hit it right on the mark, now the second…oh gorgeous form—legs are squeezed together. She will hit two more before going straight into a big release. Here it comes-over the high bar—-wow look at the height! Then straight to the low bar and back to the high into another big release. Unstoppable, this routine is jam packed with difficulty. Y/n has shown little mistakes since unveiling this routine at the beginning of the season—despite one error during the American Cup where she missed a handstand that resulted in shaky release. One more big transition from high bar to low bar and back again before falling straight into a release. Wow, that was amazing! Now she’s gearing up for the dismount—very difficult here—she’ll be doing a double twisting double layout, the same Shawn Johnson did in 2008 rated a G-Value skill. Here we go, the moment we’ve all been waiting for—and she sticks it!! Unbelievable! The crowd loved that and so did her teammates, they’re jumping for joy down below.”

Y/n finally breathes as the crowd goes wild around her. Briefly closing her eyes, she exhales before facing the judges to salute. A wide grin on her lips, Y/n claps her chalky hands covered by the grips and runs to the stairs to be embraced by her coach. Her teammates surround her, hugs and high-fives all around. “That was amazing!” “You were perfect! Absolutely perfect!”

“This is why Y/n was picked for these Games—it is that routine that secured her spot on team USA. It’s untouchable. She is the World Champion in this event, completely dominating the junior level—no one else could touch Y/n on the bars. She’s looking to become the first American to win the uneven bars on Sunday night for event finals and she is exceptional. Those handstands are perfection, the form is impeccable and the landing was perfectly executed—she would get a ten if it were the old system. Now we’re just waiting for the score, which is going to be big. Her start value is 7.1, huge for an uneven bars routine but it’s those transitions combined with the releases and of course that G dismount that really make this routine such high valued—not to mention the series of handstands at the beginning. I believe she has the highest start value in this event these Olympics—no doubt the fan favorite for Sunday night.”

Y/n downs a bottle of water, ignoring the snaps of the cameras from the press directly in front of her. She waves to a few people in the audience, a little girl shrieks when they see the gymnast noticed them. Quickly Y/n packed her bag because they were about to make the rotation to beam. They were just waiting on her score.

“For those of you at home watching for the first time who are confused on how the scoring works, the gymnasts routines used to be scored out of a 10–that’s how it was for the Magnificent Seven and Carly Patterson. But after the 2004 Olympics the Code of Points changed and now they are given a difficulty and execution score. The difficulty is set in stone by the routine, so in Y/n’s case her start value is 7.1–that is the difficulty of her routine based on all the elements put together. The execution score is out of 10–similar to the old system where the judges deduct when they catch errors, imperfect form, or the gymnast falls. After the execution score is decided it is added to the start value, and that is the score the gymnast receives. The highest score Y/n can receive is a 17.100 if she were to receive a perfect execution score of 10. On the screen now is the deduction zone and green is what these athletes want—they want little deductions as possible. Yellow is basically the caution area and red is the danger zone where the gymnast made a really bad mistake—possibly a fall off the apparatus or had too many visible errors.”

“You know, Y/n does her best to not leave room for deductions but there’s always something the judges will catch. Scoreboard is coming around and it looks….it’s a 16.541 for Y/n L/n! Holy moly that is a massive score for the Americans—it’s put them well ahead over Russia going into rotation three. She scored higher than in the qualifications which was a 16.3! I know she’s happy now—we can see her smiling from this angle as the Americans get ready to move to the balance beam. Y/n will compete on the beam along with Kyla Ross and Aly Raisman before sitting out of the floor.”

Warming up on the beam, Y/n did her spins, a couple jumps, her Arabian, and dismount. She was set to go second, giving a slight break after coming off of the high from bars since the US was set to go first in the rotation. Then in the final rotation on floor they would compete after Russia. Y/n was confident in her beam routing, having perfected it for over a year. It had lower difficulty than her bar routine but was still highly valued at 6.4. The highest Y/n had received on it was a 15.628 at the trials, usually ranging between 15.100 and 15.533 in other competitions. In the qualification round Y/n got a 15.478 and secured her place in the individual event final.

“Welcome back to our coverage of the women’s artistic all-around team final in London. We’re onto rotation three of four and it’s the balance beam for Team USA. All three Russians have competed with great performances and very little deductions. The margin between Russian and the US looks like it may be neck and neck going into the floor. Up first for the Americans is Kyla Ross—she and Y/n L/n will finish their team finals on this event. They both were chosen to compete on just the bars and beams—Jordyn Wieber will join Gabby Douglas and Aly Raisman on floor after sitting out for two rotations following the vault. Up first for team USA, Kyla Ross.”

“Let’s go, Kyla!!” Y/n clapped her hands around her mouth. “You got this girl!” When the gymnast finished Y/n was immediately hauled up the stairs, high-fiving her teammate before waiting for the green light on the far right end of the beam. Once Kyla’s score was finalized and on the board, the green appeared and Y/n saluted the judge. The springboard was placed beside the middle of the apparatus, and Y/n once again took a deep breath.

“Y/n’s got the green light from the judge, and is now setting up for her mount. This is quite the skill she is about to do—Dominique Moceanu of the 1996 team performed this mount on the beam in Atlanta. Here she goes….beautiful. It’s a tricky mount but when executed right it can be stunning. Now onto this interesting spin that many gymnasts have started to use in their routines, it’s called a ‘wolf spin.’ She’ll do three full turns right here before setting up for her first big combo—Arabian into a pike jump then right to a back handspring—a little shaky right there on the landing. There will be a slight deduction for not having her chest up in time. Gorgeous spins as she walks to the opposite beam. Here is her tumbling pass, back handspring to a layout—repeating it—and she’s got it! A spin to jump combination and straight into a back tuck. Y/n has made it a habit in her beam routines to display her strength. From this handstand she will turn and split her legs down the middle before holding it at an angle so she’s not level with the apparatus. Very hard to do that could easily end in disaster, but she makes it look effortless. The crowd loves it too. Now all there’s left is the dismount—the time buzzer has sounded. An F-valued skill she’s gonna do a stretched back salto with a triple twist. And she sticks the landing once again!! Beautiful end on the beam for Y/n L/n! That is gonna be a good score I feel.”

“Great job, that was awesome!” “Well done, Yn.” “You did amazing!” Her teammates swarmed her again, followed by her coach who pressed a fatherly kiss to her forehead, “well done, well done, my little powerhouse.” Catching her breath, Y/n wrapped her arms around him in a hug. Together they looked out to the audience to try and find his wife, her other coach, and Y/n’s parents. When they found them they were on their feet clapping, waving frantically at the two. Then the score came in and Y/n visibly saw them get more excited. Rotation 3: BB—Y/n L/N (USA) 15.840

“Wow, a huge score for Y/n L/n of Team USA—15.840! That is the highest score she’s ever received now—her 15.6 at the Olympic Trials was the highest she had gotten on this routine and now it’s been replaced.”

“Well deserved too. This routine was the best she’s ever performed, John. There were those two slight errors where her chest was low on the landings, but her form is just outstanding.”

After cheering on Aly it was time for the last rotation. Y/n packed up her backpack before pulling on her Team USA sweats to cover her bear legs. Over by the floor Y/n was filled with nerves, but confidence for her teammates. After the beam there was a tight lead over Russia, but not by a large margin where anything could happen. It was gonna come down to what happens on the floor.

When the results came in and USA appeared on the #1 spot Y/n jumped for joy, interlaced hands with her teammates in the air. The entire arena was on their feet—especially those who came all the way from America to support. Y/n’s parents and coach were whistling and screaming, it was a truly golden moment for the 16-year-old from Lemmore, California. And for the girls sharing it with her.

They pulled off what they set out to do since being named at the trials. The Olympic Gold in the Women’s Team Final, making them the first team since the 1996 Magnificent Seven to win the title. It was an honor Y/n would carry for the rest of her life and got to share with her spectacular teammates. Standing on top of the podium, with a gold medal around her neck as the national anthem played, Y/n let the tears fall freely. Overwhelmed with emotion, her lips trembled as she mouthed the lyrics. The arena was quiet save for the melody, but when it ended it erupted in cheers. Together with her team Y/n raised the bouquet of flowers to the sea of spectators. Cameras flashed as they posed with the silver and bronze winning teams Russia and Romania.

Post interviews took place and Y/n was still unable to let go of the grin on their face when answering questions. “Y/n, congratulations on this amazing win. You and the team have won the gold—America’s first Team gold since 1996. Can you put into words how you’re feeling right now?”

“Honestly I can’t—I-I’m just so overcome with emotion, it still feels unreal. I want to take this moment to thank my parents who are in the crowd, they have been my strongest support system during this journey and of course my amazing coaches that are with me in London. And of course Aly, Jordyn, Gabby, and Kyla. They were spectacular tonight—I’m so proud of this team, everyone gave it their all and pulled off the best routines we could to get here. After the first rotation the energy just kept bouncing off each of us—it was a great start that flowed into every rotation.”

“I have to bring up that bars routine, Y/n, everyone is talking about it. Absolutely phenomenal. That was the best we’ve seen you do in the event—scoring higher than you did in qualifications. You’re the reigning World champion and the favorite for Sunday night’s event finals. Do you think you’ll do better than you did tonight ?”

Y/n bit her lip, offering a shrug to the reporter, “The thing about this sport is you never know if you’re gonna hit the routine each meet. The goal is to every time but you just have to go in there and give it your best. And that’s what I plan to do Sunday. My coach and I are going to work on where improvements are needed, and I hope to deliver the same way I did tonight.”

The volunteer signaled for the reporter to hurry it up. “Well we’ll be cheering you on both Sunday and Tuesday night as well for the beam finals. Congratulations again on behalf of everyone watching at home. You and the team did amazing and we hope you all have fun celebrating tonight. We’ll see you back here Sunday for the uneven bars.”

Y/n shook the reporter's hand with a grin, “Thank you so much! Have a great night,” blowing a kiss to the camera, Y/n waved to the fans shouting out to her and moved to follow the team out of the arena. The next time she was in the dome was to cheer on Aly and Gabby from the stands during the All-Around final. Kyla and Jordyn were with her, as were the coaches and parents. A wave of red, white, and blue was around them, supporters of Team USA which competed for the loudest section against others when it came to cheering on the Americans. Y/n was on her feet each time Aly or Gabby finished a routine, “Way to go, Gabby!!” “I see you, Aly, let’s go!!”

By the end of the competition Y/n was frantic with joy. Gabby’s name was at the top spot making her the All-Around Olympic champion. The entire arena was on their feet in an explosion of cheers. Unfortunately Aly missed out on the bronze, landing fourth place. Y/n shed tears for both Gabby and Aly, filled with joy for the former at winning the gold, but heartbroken for the latter.

The rest of the week flew by in a blur until it was Sunday night and Y/n was back on the mat for the women’s uneven bars final. She along with seven others would compete for the honor of Olympic champion. The last to compete, the athlete kept her back to the bars and mentally prepared—doing some handstands to pass time. When her coach came up saying it was time, Y/n shook the nerves off and blocked out the crowd.

This was the moment of her life.

“Representing the United States of America,” the crowd cheered, “Y/n L/n!” Taking her place on the mat, Y/n saluted the judges at the green light before licking the tips of her thumbs and clapping once—a ritual since she started competing. With a nod to her coach, who was set up to move the springboard upon her punch onto the bar, Y/n sprinted up and started the routine.

All throughout the routine Y/n thought of her idol Nadia, striving to have the perfect form she did when she took the gold 34 years prior in Montreal. She let her body do the work, letting it carry Y/n through the air upon releases and putting it in the right position with each move. Before long it was time to dismount. The arena was on edge, waiting for the show-stopping move that Y/n had stuck in the team final. With a deep inhale, the gymnast released her hands and twisted before opening her arms at the nick of time.

When her feet hit the mat, arms out and upright, Y/n had to hold back the tears for she knew she just pulled off the best bars routine of her life.

The audience knew it too, they were in an uproar. It continued even after Y/n saluted the judge and walked off the stairs. Her coach practically hauled her off the last step, embracing her while she cried. Of course it was bad luck to celebrate when the score hasn't come in yet, but Y/n had the highest start value of all the finalists and there was no doubt she just overtook the #1 spot. “I’m truly speechless folks, that was without question the best routine of the night. Y/n L/n promised to deliver and she did—from start to finish the routine was non-stop. Hit after hit—that landing will go down in history books. Y/n knows it too, she’s already celebrating it looks like with her coach, Mike Taylor, who’s been with her since she began her gymnastics career. The crowd is celebrating too—I can see her teammates on their feet. We’re just waiting on the score and it should be coming in at any second—-16.825! THAT’S THE GOLD MEDAL FOR Y/N L/N OF THE UNITED STATES!!! She’s the new Olympic champion on the uneven bars—the first for Team USA!!!”

Being on top of the podium felt like cloud 9. Y/n couldn't believe that after years of hard work and dedication she was the Olympic gold medalist in their favorite event. It meant more to her than when she won the World title the year before. All she pictured when the national anthem played was her at nine years old, sitting in front of the tv to watch the Athens Games. That little girl was now an Olympic champion. The best in the world on the uneven bars.

A dream that came true.

Speaking of another dream, Y/n felt all the wind leave her body when after the podium ceremony she was called over by the team’s head coach….and next to her was Nadia Comaneci. Beaming at the gymnast when they locked eyes. If the cameras were not on them her knees would’ve buckled right there. There was no stopping the tears at that point. Her idol was congratulating her, hugging her, completing her routine….it was the best moment of Y/n’s life. More so than actually winning the damn gold medal.

When Y/n repeated the glory on the beam two nights later with a 15.866, there weren't as many tears but the emotion was all the same. It had been the final night of completion for gymnastics with Aly Raisman securing the gold on the floor exercise. Team USA on top of the podium in 5 of 6 events. Y/n was over the moon.

But one question remained.

“Hello again, Y/n, wow has it been a run for you in your Olympic debut. Along with Aly Raisman you’re the most decorated American to come out of this competition. Three gold medals. The Olympic champion on the uneven bars and balance beam as well as the #1 team in the world. Unbelievable, you’ve been amazing to watch this week and everyone at home must be over the moon for you.”

“I really am—It’s so unreal to think that this time last year I was making my debut with the senior national team. I’m so filled with gratitude, my parents and coaches—this wouldn’t have been possible without them. To be called a three-time gold medalist is the biggest honor in the world and to share one of them with my team is….I’ll never be more proud than I am of them. They’ve done amazing at these Olympics—Gabby winning the All-Around, Aly with the floor and the bronze on beam. I’m just so overcome with happiness for not just myself but for them as well.”

“I gotta ask because it’s been buzzing after your win on the bars, but are you looking for a shot at the Rio team in 2016? You’re now the Olympic champion in two events—are you hoping to defend it in four years? Not to mention hopefully get the chance at competing in the All-Around since you weren't selected in the qualifications?”

This was the question that had Y/n up nearly all night thinking about. It was unspoken between her and her coaches, having wanted to focus on the current competition than set sights on the future. Now that the Olympics were technically over for her, Y/n was ready to get back in the gym for another chance at glory.

This time, her goal was the All-Around title.

“I pretty much knew regardless of the outcome of this competition that I would train for Rio. Now the motivation is tenfold really and I do hope I get the chance at the All-Around if I do make the team. For now I’m gonna celebrate with my family, coaches, and my team before getting back in the gym for next year’s Worlds.”

The 2013 to 2015 World Championships were some of the best years in Y/n’s career. Not only did she take the silver in the 2014 & 2015 All-Around next to gold medalist Simone Biles, but claimed the 2013 gold on the balance beam followed by silver in 2014 & 2015, shocked the globe by becoming the 2015 World Champion on vault, and went three for three gold on the uneven bars. By the time the 2016 Olympic trials came around, Y/n was the second ranked gymnast in the world.

The Olympic Rings were tattooed on her forearm, a reminder that she accomplished her childhood dream. Making the team for the second time that summer was beyond what Y/n could put into words. And she would not be the only returning olympian to the US team, Gabby and Aly were coming with her.

There was a lot of talk of what Y/n would bring to the Rio Games. Not only was she the defending champion on bars and beam—hoping to bring a first for the US by repeating her success in London, but she was aiming for a spot in the All-Around competition. Commentators couldn’t get enough of the impending qualifications. Simone was the top contender—the #1 gymnast in the world—and would no doubt qualify, which only left one spot. One spot that three gymnasts wanted.

Gabby, looking to defend her All-Around title.

Aly, to claim the medal she missed when placing fourth in London.

And Y/n, the reigning two-time World silver medalist.

All three members of the gold winning team in London. All three individual Olympic champions.

It would be a heated competition between athletes and friends.

When the trials concluded Y/n had a lot to think about. A lot to mentally prepare for. In the Olympics anything can happen. She witnessed that in London when Jordyn, the reigning World champion, did not qualify for the All-Around. Romania claiming the bronze in the team final over China. Then Y/n beat the leading contender for the gold on beam. Nothing was guaranteed.

As Y/n packed up her bag following interviews after the 2016 team was announced, she headed to leave for the parking lot to meet with her parents and coaches. Phone in hand, Y/n sent a message to her parents when they asked if she wanted to go out to eat to celebrate. As she came around the corner, having waited until most of the spectators had already left, the gymnast gasped when something crashed into her legs causing the phone to drop from her hands, “Oh!”

“Daisy!” A male voice shouted against the sound of feet approaching. “I told you to watch before turning—I’m so sorry ma’am. I—.” His voice stopped suddenly when Y/n lifted her head to connect with a stunning pair of blue eyes. They belonged to a young man with a baby face, roughly around her age but possibly older by a few years, who had blonde hair—stood at about 6 ft and wore a pair of glasses. “O-oh God, you’re Y/n L/n. I-I’m so sorry about my sister—she wasn’t looking.”

The little girl in question—who looked to be about 11 years old— was now in front of Y/n, mouth agape as she stood starstruck. In one hand was a handheld American flag with the event program in the other and she had team USA painted on her cheek. She looked very similar to the man behind her as she had matching hair and eyes. Daisy, as her name was shouted by her brother, looked like she could cry. “I’m so sorry, Miss. Y/n.”

“Oh it’s alright,” the woman softly smiled. Daisy had the same look of awe and emotion Y/n had when she met Nadia Comaneci in 2012 after winning the uneven bars. “Really, it’s okay. I should’ve watched where I was going.” She bent down to grab her phone, silently thankful it didn’t crack any more than it already was. The guy, however, saw the cracks and went pale.

“I’m so so sorry. O-oh gosh, I’ll pay the full amount to replace it—.” Y/n immediately cut him off.

“No, no, no, it was already like that,” Y/n lightly laughed, a little embarrassed to reveal the truth, “I promise you, I just haven’t had the time to get a new one. But it wasn’t her fault I can assure you. It was actually the locker room floor that’s responsible.” Daisy looked embarrassed and guilty at the thought she broke the Olympian’s phone, but upon Y/n’s words she visibly relaxed.

Her brother on the other hand still wasn’t sure. Internally he was freaking out. The now two-time olympian and gold medalist was right in front of him. And she was so beautiful in person it was making his brain scatter…..And his sister knocked her phone from her hands. “Are you sure? I can really write you a check right now Ms. L/n.” The woman waved a hand with a shake of the head, “You have my word. You don’t me anything, Mr……” she waited for him to say his name. A light tint of red appeared on his cheeks, “U-uh Robert, but you can call me Bob, everyone does.”

Y/n extended her hand, making Bob blush more when he went to shake it and a spark ignited causing them both to flinch. “Sorry!”

Y/n only laughed, finding him adorable, “It’s okay. It’s nice to meet you, Bob, and please call my Y/n. And it’s nice to meet you too, Miss. Daisy.” The little girl smiled wide, in a state of visible joy that she was in the presence of her idol.

“You were amazing today, Y/n,” Daisy complimented, making the woman smile.

“Thank you. Did you have fun watching the competition?”

Daisy nodded, “I had a lot of fun. My favorite was you on bars—I had my brother get seats near them so we could watch you.” Y/n couldn’t help but feel warmth in her body. Anytime she had fan interactions it reminded her how she fell in love with gymnastics. Watching the Games and competitions on tv, attending them in person to watch athletes she admired growing up. One could never get used to it. Y/n could see herself in Daisy, for she had begged her parents to always get seats by the bars when they went to watch the 2008 Team trials.

“You’re her favorite gymnast,” Bob casually said with a smile. Y/n thought at that moment, ‘wow he’s got a beautiful smile.’ Her heart picked up at the realization she was attracted to the man. There was just something about him that had her wanting to stay and talk with him.

Y/n smiled at the compliment, turning to Daisy, “I’m extremely honored to have that title, Miss. Daisy. Thank you so much for your support and coming out today. I’m happy I did not let you down,” Y/n then asked, “Are you a gymnast too?”

“Yup!” She said proudly, “I’m level five. I watched you win in London and wanted to be like you,” Y/n placed a hand on her chest, an ‘awe’ escaping her mouth as she tried to hold back the emotion. This little girl was about to capture her heart.

Her brother surly was about to.

Bob nodded his head to his sister, “Her birthday was recent and this is what she asked for. To come watch the trials—to hopefully see you make the team. C-congratulations by the way! You were incredible out there.”

“Thank you,” Y/n said to him, “It’s a privilege to get to compete for a second time. Thank you both for coming out and supporting,” she turns back to Daisy, “And happy belated birthday!”

“Thank you!” She beamed, before hesitating to hold out her hand with the program. “Could—could you please sign this?” Y/n quickly pocketed her phone, removing a sharpie from her bag, “of course. Anything for the birthday girl.” Taking the program, Y/n flipped to the page with her picture and information, scribbling a message saying, ‘Daisy, Shoot for the stars and go for the gold. Thank you for all your support. All the love, Y/n,’ with a little heart at the end. Closing it, Y/n handed it over to her just as Bob was pulling out his own phone.

“Do you mind? I know you must be on your way.”

“Oh not at all,” she said, motioning for Daisy to come closer, who politely asked, “Can I give you a hug?”

“Oh course!” Y/n opened her arms and Daisy fell into her embrace. They faced Bob, smiling at the camera and he took several photos before nodding, “perfect.” Daisy then requested a selfie, and Y/n was all too happy to say yes. Bob handed Daisy the phone who then handed it to Y/n who went, “oh you want me to take it? I’m not the best selfie taker but for you I shall.” Y/n flipped to the front camera and took several photos with Daisy. One nice one of them smiling and a few goofy faces, ending with a kissy face.

Y/n handed the phone over to Bob, but Daisy stopped them, “now you two!” Bob flushed, looking at Y/n to see she was just as suprised. He was silently embarrassed to say he too would have liked a photo, but it was getting late, the gymnast was obviously tired, and they had an early drive back home the next morning. He was due back to report on base on Monday after taking the last Thursday and Friday to take his sister to the trials. “Oh Daiz, it’s getting late. We don’t wanna hold Y/n up—.”

“C’mon, Bob,” she whined, “this way you can brag to your Navy buddies you met an Olympian. And not just any Olympian, you met Y/n L/n!” The insinuation had Bob slightly glare at his sister, finding it to be rude to say such a thing in front of the person they were referring to. He didn’t want Y/n to think it was for clout.

“Daisy—.”

“I don’t mind,” Y/n offered with a kind smile, butterflies erupting in when they made eye contact. Despite the aviator’s fears, Y/n wasn’t offended. In fact she found it amusing, wanting to do it for him. She could tell Bob was still unsure so she said, “If we do a selfie then it’s best for you to take it.” Bob gave a nervous laugh, but nodded and moved closer to Y/n. He was taller than her so Bob held the phone up higher than usual and at an angle.

After the photo Daisy insisted on taking one of them despite her brothers protest. Y/n chuckled at the banter, before pulling Bob to her and placing a hand on his back. Blushing, he put his arm around her shoulder. Daisy didn’t say how many photos she had taken, but judging by her thumb rapidly hitting the screen it was safe to say it was a lot. Feeling bold, Y/n looked up to Bob, “You know if you let me, I’d be happy to help you with the ultimate bragging rights?”

The man’s eyebrows raised, “what did you have in mind.” He wasn’t sure if he should be excited or scared by the look on Y/n’s face.

“It requires you to crouch down,” upon his wide eyes she quickly added, “I’m not gonna kiss you, but I will kiss your cheek if you let me.”

“Oh,” Bob couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but Y/n didn’t appear to be lying. “Oh—um.”

“If you’re not comfortable I totally understand.”

“No, no, no, i’m fine with that. It just threw me off for a second. But y-yeah, sure that’d be cool.” Y/n giggled, and motioned for him to bend to her level.

“Get that camera ready, Daisy.” The girl gave a thumbs up, and Y/n stood on her tippy toes while Bob hunched over so her lips were level with his cheek. She gently pressed a kiss to the skin, holding it there for a few seconds to make sure Daisy got the picture. Bob’s face was hot, obviously flustered by the contact but he managed to keep it together. Y/n was in the same boat, heart pumping at tad faster than usual. She pulled away, falling back onto her heels as Bob stood back straight.

“U-uh well thank you,” he laughed, adjusting the collar of his shirt with loopy grin. “That’s definitely the highlight of my year.”

Y/n giggled, stepping away and picking her backpack up. “Be sure to tag me if you post it,” her wink had Bob’s heart skip. His attraction to the Olympian was growing by the second, but Bob knew deep down nothing would come out of it. They were on two opposite spectrums. Y/n was a world class athlete about to compete on the worlds greatest sporting stage for the second time in just two months, while Bob was about to attend the prestigious Navy Fighter Weapon’s school. The thought of them possibly ever getting together, let alone a date, was a fantasy.

Bob snapped out of his thoughts, giving Y/n a nod, “I’ll make sure to.” He then looks to his sister briefly before back at Y/n. “Sorry for holding you up, but thank you so much for the photos and signing her program.”

“It’s a pleasure, really,” Y/n told him and Daisy when the girl thanked her after Bob, “Thank you both for coming out today again. I hope you have safe travels back home wherever you’re going. I’m so happy, Daisy, you had a wonderful time—good luck with your gymnastics. Maybe the roles will one day reverse, and I’ll be the one cheering you on from the stands,” It was evident Y/n’s words meant a lot to Daisy. The girl’s expression read a fire was beginning to ignite in her eyes. “ Oh and on that note…” Y/n removed one of the two armbands wrapped around each wrist. She’d had them since joining the Junior national team and wore them before and every meet. Almost like a good luck charm.

“This is for you, consider it my birthday gift to you. These armbands have served as a good luck charm for me, I’d like you to have one.” Daisy gasped, eyes wide as she took the band in her hand.

“But…if this is your good luck charm, shouldn’t you have it for the Olympics?”

Y/n raised her wrist with the matching band, “I still have this one to do the job.”

“What do you say, Daiz?” Bob said to his sister, who still appeared awestruck. He mouthed to the Olympian, ‘Thank you.’ Y/n gave a smile with a sly wink.

“Thank you,” Daisy finally breathed. “Thank you so so much. I’ll cherish it forever.” Y/n gave one last hug to Daisy before shaking Bob’s hand and waving goodbye to them as they went separate ways. “Good luck in Rio!” Daisy shouted after her, “Win the gold again for us!” Y/n gave the girl her word, feeling a slight sadness when she got to the parking lot where her parents were waiting for her.

“What took you so long, honey?”

“Oh I was talking with some supporters. They were really sweet and we just got carried away,” she explained before switching the conversation.

Though Y/n pushed aside her thoughts of the cute blue-eyed Bob as the days to Rio got closer, she sometimes thought of him and his sister. Y/n never wanted to let her supporters down. Some had been with her since her debut on the national team. Others were residents of her hometown, who’d known Y/n as a baby. Lots came after the London Games. Making the team for Rio was not just her dream, but the dream of the people who admired her. Wanting her to accomplish the impossible when it almost seems too good to be true. Letting them down would be something Y/n couldn’t forgive herself for. Y/n vowed to never let that happen.

And after the night of the trials, she felt that more than ever.

Read Part 2!

………………

TGM tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan

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