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xxblairexxss · 9 months

Text

Jealousy (part 4)

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Angst / fluff

The end! Thank you for loving the short series. I think this might be my best one yet because I didn’t limit myself to include everything but it was longer than my usual ones. Apologies it long fics are not your thing!

Your week went by with no more phone calls. Charles didn’t ask for another chance to speak to you and you were so glad he didn’t because you weren’t sure if you were gonna find it appealing or irritating. Deep down, you knew there was still an enraged flame in your heart that you couldn’t ignore regardless of your feelings for him.

You stopped replying to his texts too but you still read it from the notifications bar. He would tell you about what he did on the day, would ask you if you had eaten, how was your day but none of his questions were answered. He went to Maranello right away and stayed there until the next race so you were glad you didn’t have to meet him.

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Charles was demented with worry. He knew he was hoping too much when you unblocked his number but he never thought you would stop replying to his texts. He didn’t know what you were up to and that made him agitated.

Y/F/N has added to their story

You hadn’t unblock him on his Instagram but he would still be able to see your friend’s. He saw pictures of you on your friend’s Instagram story, all smiles and grinning ear to ear. He missed you a lot. He would stare at his phone every night before he went to sleep, anticipating your name popping up in his notification or phone call but none of it actually came. He was disappointed, of course, but he knew he deserved this.

But he still hadn’t lose you, had he?

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You had declined Charles’s offer to join him on his private flight to Mexico because you still had things to do at work on Friday so you had to miss practice rounds. You even forced Y/F/N to come with you so you wouldn’t be left alone with Charles because you didn’t know how to act and what to say around him. As if he wasn’t your boyfriend for 2 years.

“Please come with me! Please please please!”

Y/F/N rolled her eyes and shook her head, turning her back on you to which earned her a pillow threw at her head. “No, thank you. Hey!” She then sat up and threw it back at you and chortled at the face you made.

“I need you there! I can’t be with him alone!”

“He was your boyfriend for 2 years. Why are you acting as if you haven’t done anything nasty with him.” You stopped peeking inside your closet and glared at her.

“That was so unrelated.”

“You get what I mean! If you don’t want to be left alone then just ignore him! Plus, he’s gonna be so busy he won’t have time to chase after you.” Y/F/N shook her head at the navy top you showed her and you placed it back into the rows of clothes.

“I know but he even asked me to go to the after party. You know what happened the last time I went to a social event.” You picked another top and earned a yes from Y/F/N so you folded it into your small luggage.

“There’s a party?” You heard her sounded intrigued. You should have known this better. She would never say no to parties. The conversations could have been a plain sailing one if only you mentioned this topic first.

“Yeah. There’ll be hot guys everywhere. It’s a shame you couldn’t come.” You packed another pair of pants and saw in the corner of your eyes Y/F/N scrammed away, leaving the room.

“Wait for me!”

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You arrived at the hotel early in the morning and Charles had arranged everything. Y/F/N was passed out as soon as you guys checked in while you immediately gotten ready to go to the paddock before the qualifying round started.

Once you arrived, there were still a lot of people waiting at the entrance meanwhile the paddock was already packed with a few interviews being done at every spots. You only took a few steps when you heard your phone rang.

“Hi.”

You looked up from your phone and saw your boyfriend, or ex boyfriend, whichever you preferred walking towards you and you hated yourself for feeling this way. You felt like a kid who bumped into their crush at a school hallway. That silly, giddy with excitement as if it was your first time meeting him. Your heart was throbbing so loud that if he told you he could hear your heartbeat, you would have believed him right away. The butterflies in your stomach went wild and it made your knees weak. You smiled back at him and he took your hand in his, clasping it as he turned and walked back to the entrance. The sound of the fans around the paddock area screaming his name turned into a mumble as you kept your eyes on his back.

You were so glad you didn’t get to see and talk to him that much throughout the rest of the qualifying round. You didn’t even stay until the end though he offered you a ride back to the hotel.

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“How was it?”

“It was okay?”

Y/F/N mocked your face and you squinted your eyes at her. “What?”

“Tell me more! Did he say anything? Did he hug you? Tried to kiss you maybe?”

“No! He just held my hand. It’s not like he had any free time to even talk about us.” You took off your earrings and tied your hair in a bun.

“Such an asshole, isn’t he? When is he gonna apologise? Is he even gonna say sorry? Does he know how to say sorry?” You heard her blabbered with a mouth full of chips.

“We are not talking about this anymore. I’m gonna take a bath.”

As you started shampooing your roots, you heard the doorbell ring and thought it was just another room service that your best friend might had ordered.

“Hi, can I talk to Y/N?”

“She’s busy. We’re busy.” Y/F/N looked at the guy up and down and was going to close the door on him when he propelled it back.

“Wait! Please, I just want to give her something.”

Y/F/N stretched her arm forward and Charles blinked in confusion. “Give it to me. I’ll pass it to her.”

“Can I see her instead?”

“No. Either you pass it to me to you can go back to your room.” She replied sternly to which made him obediently handed the paper bags to her and walked away.

“Look,” Charles stopped in his trail when he heard her broke the silence.

“I’m not mad at you. Wait, I am mad at you. I’m pissed off, actually. But as much as I want her to leave your ass, she still loves you and I think that’s more than enough confirmation you need. I’ll give you a space to talk to her tomorrow so do whatever you need to do.” Charles was going to say something but the door slammed on his face faster than he could even blink.

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“Who was that? Did you order room service?” You walked out the bathroom in robes with wet hair, gasping when you saw boxes of pizza and doughnuts on the coffee table. “This is a lot! When did you buy them? Oh, this is my favourite!”

“I didn’t. The delivery guy came all the way to our room to deliver these.” You saw the displeased face on her and frowned in confusion.

“He also left you that. I don’t know what you told him but you could open a Dior pop-up shop with those stuffs.”

You looked to the side and saw a Dior paper bag full of different shades of the new lip gloss. It was the one you briefly mentioned in your last phone call with him. There was also a small note written on it. “I might forgot or had missed you said your favourite shade during our last call so I got them all. And I don’t think you have eaten anything after the qualifying round today so enjoy the food.”

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The race ended with Charles getting P3, letting him to get the podium spot again after missing it a few races. Y/F/N has asked you to head back early because she needed hours to make sure she looked hot to flirt all the guys at the afterparty. It always made you wonder how both of you ended up being best friends even with all those contrasts in your personalities.

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You arrived with Y/F/N a few minutes late so it was already crowded with people. As much as it made you feel nervous, Y/F/N was thrilled.

“You look beautiful, angel.”

“Oh?” You turned around and was greeted with Charles, hands in his pocket, a few steps away from you. You opened your mouth to reply to the compliment, but Y/F/N cut you off.

“Right? Too beautiful to be treated like a shit.”

You nudged her on her waist and glowered. “Okay, this is not the time!”

“I’m off! Charles, she’s yours.” Y/F/N fixed your hair before leaving both of you, too fast that you couldn’t even catch her arm to force her to stay with you.

“Thank you..” You awkwardly smiled, your hands were clasp together, trying not to look at his green eyes that much.

“Thank you?”

“For yesterday. You really didn’t have to, but , thank you.”

“Oh, it’s nothing compared to what you actually deserved. Anyway, do you want to—“ Charles turned around and saw one of his friends calling out to him. You looked at the source of the voice and saw his group of friends standing at the end of the room.

“You should go with them.”

“No, come with me.” He was going to seize your hand when you stepped back in defence.

“It’s fine, I’ll be somewhere else.”

“Y/F/N will kill me if she finds you alone. I know you hate me and you don’t want to be left alone with me but stay with me this time. Please?”

You felt his hand gently taking yours in his as he looked into your eyes, as if he was asking for consent and you gave in. Sure, you despised him a lot but the moment he held your hand, feeling his thumb stroking your knuckles, it reminded you that he had always been your solace in life. It took everything in you to not embrace him right there and then.

He introduced you to the rest of the groups and immediately engaged in a full conversations. His hand never left yours. You were just standing by his side, playing around with your heels when you were greeted with Y/F/N and a few people with her. She would always brought her group of friends with you at any party just to introduce you, her best friends with her new friends. Charles turned around when he felt you accidentally tugged on his hand.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You were so glad for Y/F/N and was simply amazed with her social skills. Though you had a hard time engaging in a conversation and preferred to just listened, she kept on pulling you into the conversation by constantly asking you series of questions.

“That’s the worse. Right, Y/N?”

“Isn’t Y/N so pretty? I did her hair.”

“Y/N is very good at mix and match her clothes. Right, Y/N? But she still needed my help.”

Throughout the conversations, Charles still kept your hand in his but then it got uncomfortable when your hand started sweating so you ended up holding his pinky finger, occasionally fiddled with his fingers since you didn’t have your ring on. You thought he would pull away but he didn’t. He didn’t even budge.

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“Do you wanna go back to the hotel?”

“Can we?”

“Of course, angel. Let’s go.”

Charles had took you back to the hotel but it was only when you had arrived in front of your room when you realised you didn’t have your access card with you. He had asked you to stay in his room first until Y/F/N called.

It had been a while since the last time you were with him in a small space. As soon as you walked in, you were greeted with his smell, the mixture of scent between the different collection of his perfumes, the smell of his shower gels it was all too overwhelming it made your eyes teared up instantly.

“Sit down, silly. Why are you standing?”

You let out a sob, looking down and he stoop down to look at your face, sounding all worried and anxious. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Y/N?”

You continued to sob uncontrollably and he enfolded you in his arms, one hand around the back of your head and another one wrapped on your waist. “It’s okay, angel. I got you.”

“I hate you.”

His arms around your figure tighten when your body shook and he planted a kiss on the side of your head. “It’s okay, I hate myself too.”

“But I miss you so much, I miss your touch, your kiss, your voice, everything about you. I tried so hard to ignore you because maybe it would be easier for me to end everything, to end us but it was so hard.” The silent tears kept on running down your cheeks that you were so sure his shirt was already soaked.

Charles’s blood ran cold when you mentioned about ending things. Both of you had always been so optimistic with the relationship. You would always talked about how you would grow old together and he would have to assure you that he would always find you beautiful or you would have sulk.

He pulled away and crouched down to hold your cheeks in his hands and level his eyes with yours. “No, please, no. Please don’t leave me. Please, angel. I know I fucked up but give me another chance to be better. To fix this. I know it makes me selfish but I can’t see you with anyone else. Please.”

You didn’t reply but kept on wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, harshly, because of how frustrating everything was.

“I’ll kneel down if you want. I’ll do whatever you want me to do. I can’t lose you. I really, really can’t.” His eyes were red from holding his tears and it smashed your heart. He looked so broken with compunction it made you cry even more.

“I’m sorry for what I did. I should have listened to you. I just got so mad when I saw you with other guys when I should have known better. I was too blinded with jealousy.” He took a shaky breath and wrapped you back in his arms so you wouldn’t see him cry.

“And when I saw what happened to you that night, I was just so furious at myself for being so stupid and allowing that to happen to you so I just blew up at you when all you needed was just my commiseration and assurance.” He left a few lingering kisses to the crown of your head and mumbled against your hair. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, angel.”

“Do you miss me?”

You felt his chest quivered as he tittered to your silly question. Had you got a glimpse of his life during the absence of you, you would have seen how miserable he actually was. “I don’t think the words I miss you is enough to express how much I long for you.”

You were no longer hugging his middle but your body was flushed against him as you stroke his cheek, feeling it damp from the tears that he tried to hide from you.

His arms left your waist briefly as he unhooked the necklace around his neck, pulling the end of it so the ring would slip out into his palm. “Do you… accept my apology?”

“I’ll think about it.” You giggled when he looked taken aback. “You are forgiven, Charles.”

“Can I put this back on you?” He looked nervous, as if he was going through every words he was about to say, too scared if you would slip off his fingers again.

“Are you proposing to me?”

“Not yet but I will. Mark my words.” He slid the ring back into your ring finger and lifted your hand to peck on it. Your arms circled around his neck as he locked you in his embrace. Your face was just an inch away from him that your nose would collide into his every time you moved your head a little. “I love you, Y/N.”

“And I love you more, Charles.” He dipped his head down and pressed his lips to yours, his arms cinching you to him as you kissed him back, your hands feeling the silken strands of his hair against your fingers.

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“Hello?” Charles squinted his eyes and put the phone to his ear, slightly whispering to not wake up the sleeping beauty in his arms.

“Charles? Do you happened to know where Y/N is? I just realised she’s not in the room.”

He laid his head back on the pillow and yawned. “Go to sleep, Y/F/N.”

“Where’s Y/N, you dick!”

“My girlfriend’s here with me. All safe and sound. You don’t have to worry.” His hand ran up and down against your back,when he felt you stirred on his chest.

“Oh, okay. I thought she was kidnapped or something. Break her heart again and I’ll make sure you won’t get any podium in your entire career. I mean it.”

You tilted your head a little to look at him, your eyes barely open. “Who was it?”

“It was just your guardian angel making sure I don’t fuck things up again. Let’s go back to sleep, baby.”

✧.* tags! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @buendiabebeta @needtokeepfeelingsincheck @ironmaiden1313 @teenagedreams-cl @sheslikeacurse @love4lando @charli123456789 @ru-kru @httpspedri26 @honey6578 @sealsu @shyartisanvoidwagon @changetyre @aundercover

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twiceinadream · 9 months

Text

“A More…Hands On Experience.”

Requested: Nope

Prompt: G!P Fem! S/O is a pool cleaner, Jihyo is a very attractive woman who asks S/O to rub oil on her.

a/u: Hey everyone! I’m back with a new fic that I hope you all enjoy. I can’t believe it’s already been 4 years since I started writing on Tumblr and I don’t have any plans on stopping in the near future! I want to thank you all for continued love and support after all these years. I love you guys!

Category: NSFW and Fluff

Word Count: 4.2k

The sun shone brightly over Guri, leaving the town in a beautiful glow. The air held a cool breeze and the warmth from the sun was just enough to heat the skin, more-or-less the day was pretty perfect.

You smiled to yourself as you hummed the last song you had heard on the radio under your breath. You were in good spirits, the weather was great, and you were on to the first client of the day. The house was very beautiful and you couldn’t help but marvel at all of the intricate botany.

The house itself looked quite modern as you walked up the little step to knock. It gave a hollow sound as you waited patiently, one of your hands in your pocket. It didn’t take long before you heard a faint, “Hold on, I’m coming!” From inside the house, the door was opened by the most beautiful woman you had ever seen and her attire - or lack there of - made your mouth go dry, “Hi, may I help you?”

You felt like your eyes were gonna pop out of your skull before you quickly shook your head and cleared your throat, recovering your professional demeanor, “Hi, yes, Miss Park?” The woman nodded and it finally clicked that your client was the Park Jihyo, “Hi, I’m Y/N from Palace Pool Cleaners. We have you scheduled for a pool cleaning this morning.”

It took all of your willpower to not look down since the woman before you was the subject of a very long standing crush and she was currently dressed in a very revealing bikini that was barely covered by a white dress shirt. “Oh goodness, you’re right. My apologies, it completely slipped my mind. I was actually about to lounge by the pool myself, it won’t interfere with your work will it?”

You shook your head, it wasn’t uncommon for clients to be out while you worked. Guaranteed most of your clients weren’t insanely attractive women who had been the object of your affection, but you needed to keep this professional. You couldn’t risk losing your job over a stupid crush, “Not at all, Miss Park. Depending on how much debris is in the pool and all the other little nuances I need to check up on for maintenance reasons. I should be out of here in two hours.”

The brunette smiled as she looked you up and down, you couldn’t help but stiffen your stance slightly as you flexed. Secretly hoping to attract such a gorgeous woman - you were only human after all. “Take all the time you need.”

With that, you gave a curt nod to not embarrass yourself any further, “Thank you, let me grab my supplies from the truck and I’ll get started. Is there a side gate I could use to access the backyard so I’m not lugging everything through your house?”

“Yeah, it’s to the right of the garage there’s a gate, it unlocks from the back so just reach over and it leads straight to the pool.” You nodded in thanks as you turned to leave. “One more thing,” you turned back around to see that the dress shirt had fallen down one of Jihyo’s shoulders and was now exposing a good amount of her cleavage that you fought not to gawk at, “you’re new aren’t you?” You nodded as you responded with a ‘yes’, making the brunette giggle, “I just wanted to say you are a lot easier on the eyes than my last pool cleaner.” You could barely believe your ears as Jihyo left you with a wink and disappeared back into her house.

How strange.

You finally let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding as Jihyo closed the door, the front of your shorts felt uncomfortably tight as you turned to go back to your truck and grab the supplies you needed. You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself, ‘Fucking shit. I feel like I’m living in a bad porno.’

Once you had gathered everything you needed to get started with the cleaning you made your way to the backyard, through the gate that Jihyo had mentioned before and you almost stopped in your tracks at the sight. The brunette was propped up on a sun bed, sunglasses on her face and the white button down discarded. Revealing her large breasts that were barely contained by the straining fabric of her brown bikini top and the tiny bottom part that left nothing to the imagination that barely covered the woman’s slit.

You could faintly see the marks of an old tan line that she was probably working on getting rid of. Jihyo didn’t seem to pay any attention to you as you went to work as usual. you set your supplies down a little ways from the edge of the pool as you began assembling the pool skimmer. Screwing together the poll and attaching the net to the end as you dipped it onto the surface of the water and began collecting the stray leaves and occasional bug.

You hummed to yourself as you got lost in the monotony of your work - it wasn’t that you hated your job, you actually loved it, it was just simple and didn’t require much thinking after enough repetitions. The pool was a fairly decent size but wasn’t large enough that it took too much effort to get through. After you had skimmed the entirety of the pool you emptied the net into a trash bag you set off to the side and picked up the pool vacuum you had brought with you.

Thankfully, this pool didn’t have an algae problem as the low hum of the motor whirred to life as you plunged it beneath the surface and once again started your methodical walk around the pool’s edge. Making sure to cover every square inch so you wouldn’t have to do it over. The sun began to beat down, the temperature had risen to 86°F (30°C) and without the coverage of clouds or a breeze, you were beginning to sweat.

Once you finally made it all the way around you pulled out the vacuum and switched off the motor, sighing as you reached for the bottom hem of your shirt and pulled it off. You were wearing a black sports bra that covered everything but a low whistle suddenly reeled your mind back into the present as you remembered that you had an audience. You turned to face the woman still lounging in the pool chair, she had shed the white button down and was left in the skimpy bikini, your eyes wandered the the swell of her massive breasts as you bit your lip.

You were trying in vain to reign in your raging hormones as you felt your dick grow half-hard. But it was confined by your boxers and the lining of your swim trunks…for now.

The brunette had noticed your gaze as she chuckled slightly, “You can keep staring, jagi. I don’t mind.” Jihyo smirked as she pushed her chest out further, “I’m very proud of my body.”

You swallowed hard as you cleared your throat, suddenly feeling brave enough to flirt back, “My apologies, I was staring at your heart, but your boobs seem to be getting in the way.”

The singer was a little surprised by the fact that you had willingly matched her energy, “Funny and good looking, a very dangerous combo.”

You smiled as you headed back to your truck briefly to retrieve the bag of pool salt you needed to restore the correct ph levels in the pool. As you came back in, you noticed Jihyo staring as your muscles bunched slightly under the weight of the bag as you carried it over your right shoulder. Once you got back to the edge of the pool you set down the bag with the side of it facing the pool as you retrieved the box cutter from your pocket and created a small triangle at the bottom of the bag as the salt began spilling out.

After all the salt had been emptied out, you crumpled up the bag and stuffed it into the trash. Tying the elastic strings to keep it closed and everything you had taken out of the pool or used stayed in it. you were finally done and you went through without any more embarrassing incidents other than flirting back a little with the beautiful woman.

You made the short walk to where Jihyo was still lounging and stopped a safe distance away as you cleared your throat to grab her attention. The brunette turned her head as she lifted her sunglasses to properly look at you, “Miss Park, everything is finished. I cleaned and skimmed your pool as well as added more salt into it to restabilize the ph levels. If there’s nothing else you need, I can see myself out. I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day!”

You wanted to heave a sigh of relief as you were able to get out your entire speech and not get distracted by the tempting pillows of softness that called to you. But before you could continue patting yourself on the back for not being a perv, Jihyo pursed her lips in thought before an idea came to mind.

She reached to the table beside her as she retrieved a bottle of sun tan oil, “Actually, there may be something you can help me with.” You nodded, “I need help applying this oil and you seem like such a nice person. I’m just trying to even out my tan lines and I can’t seem to do it properly. Would you mind doing it for me?”

You felt like your head was spinning with lust, “Yeah, I guess, I can.” The brunette’s smile was practically predatory once she heard your consent. She was finally able to set the plan she had been thinking of for the last hour and a half into motion.

“Since you’re new and all, I was hoping I could give you a better perspective on Guri. A chance to get a more…hands on experience.” As the words left Jihyo’s mouth, she released the hold she had at the front of her bikini top as she let it drop and slide off her arms.

Your eyes felt like you were going to bug out of your skull as you stared at the woman’s bare breasts. They were enormous and when she sat back on the lounge chair, they bounced slightly as they settled back into place after being jostled. You swallowed hard as all you could do was stare, “Shit, you’re beautiful.”

Jihyo giggled at the compliment as she reached down for the oil, holding up the bottle in front of you, “Care to help me, jagiya? I can’t do it properly myself.” There was a hint of a pout in her voice as you took it from her, you were very much in shock about everything that was happening as you uncapped the bottle and began drizzling the liquid onto the brunette’s chest. “That’s it, don’t be shy.”

You preened at the words that fell from the older woman’s lips as you watched the oil drip down the pillowy mountains of titty flesh. You reached a tentative hand up to rub the oil into her skin but stopped, unsure if this was what she really wanted you to do. Jihyo smirked as she grabbed your hand and placed it firmly on her breast, “Rub it in please.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the pliant flesh beneath your hand. Rubbing the oil over the singer’s warm skin as you kneaded her breasts. Your movements became more bold as you chanced a pinch to her left nipple, eliciting a soft moan from your client as she pressed her chest closer to you. The tent at the front of your swim shorts was extremely obvious as the outline of your dick stood out proudly. You were painfully hard as you continued to spread the oil all over Jihyo’s chest while fondling her tits, ‘This can’t be fucking real. Whatever I did to deserve this, thank you Universe!’ You mused to yourself as you realized the brunette had been staring at you.

“Why don’t I get you now, yeah?” You quirked an eyebrow in confusion as you paused from rubbing the oil onto the older woman’s taught stomach.

“What do you mean?” Jihyo had a predatory gleam in her eyes as she urged you to stand, she followed suit as her breasts swayed with the movement.

“I think you could use some oil too. It would look just delectable on you.” Before you could speak, Jihyo poured a healthy amount into her hands and began rubbing it onto your abdomen and down your arms. The brunette bit her lip as she felt you up, her eyes drifting down to see a very obvious bulge. You followed her gaze as you suddenly felt self-conscious.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t warn you. I have a…” But before you could continue Jihyo sank to her knees as she kissed the tip of your dick beneath the swim trunks.

“Don’t apologize for who you are. Ever.” The comment was incredibly endearing as your felt your heart grow light.

‘This woman really is amazing.’

It didn’t take long for Jihyo to bring you back to the present as she hooked her fingers into the shorts, “May I?”

It was now your turn to bite your lip as you nodded, “Please.”

In a slow and practiced motion, Jihyo began pulling down your swim trunks. She hit a snag around your erect cock before she was able to get the tight material around it and was shocked to see the sheer size of it in the open. The brunette made quick work of the shorts as you stepped out of them and kicked it away, leaving the singer to stare at your impressive length. You were both long and thick making you the perfect combination as your dick flexed up to your stomach.

“Wow, you’re the biggest I’ve ever seen.” Jihyo smiled as she reached a hand up to begin stroking your cock, “You just keep getting better and better.”

You wanted to respond but your mind was a bit more preoccupied with the sight of Park Jihyo on her knees as she stroked your dick. Opting for a nod and pleased hum.

The brunette leaned forward as she placed a kiss to your balls, moving up so she could lick a long line up the underside of your shaft to the dribbling head. The slightly salty taste of your precum coated her tongue as your hand found its way into her hair, tangling her locks in between your fingers. Jihyo took the tip of your cock into her mouth and she felt a spurt of cum as you groaned at the sudden heat around you, but before she could work down more of your impressive length she felt her head jerk forward as you pulled her closer to your groin.

More cock than she could handle was suddenly filling her mouth as the head of your length hit the back of throat and she gagged. And just as quickly as you had pushed her down on your cock, you pulled her off just as fast as apologies fell from your lips. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to be that rough with you, your mouth just feels really g….”

Before you could apologize further, Jihyo took you back into her mouth, but this time at her own pace. You moaned aloud as you felt her throat muscle contract as she took you all the way to the root, pulling back as she ran her tongue along the underside of your shaft. In an attempt to not choke the brunette a second time, you refrained from pulling at her hair as you carded your fingers through it instead. Thrusting forward every so often to chase the warmth that was being pulled off of you.

The head of your dick began leaking in a steady stream as you felt the coil in your abdomen tighten at how close you were to cumming. you let out a guttural moan, “Of fuck, Jihyo-ssi, I’m gonna cum.”

But just as the words left your mouth, the brunette completely pulled off of your length as a few ropes of cum shot out onto the singer’s face. You groaned as your balls clenched but you were left completely unsatisfied without any further stimulation, causing the tightening in your stomach to worsen. “Wh..what the h…hell?”

The ruined orgasm was borderline painful as your abdominal muscles grew taught but there was nothing else to combat the intense feeling. You groaned as you looked down to see your shaft even harder than before as it still rested stiffly against your stomach. But your heart seemed to stop at the view before you, Park Jihyo with lines of your cum on her face. She wore a very proud smirk as you panted, “I’m sorry, Y/N-ah, did that hurt?”

The brunette’s voice was full of false sympathy as she mocked you, which in turn pissed you off further. You growled lowly as you gripped her hair in your fist and pulled Jihyo to stand, still using her hair to guide the forceful movements as you brought her close to your face. “You must think you’re so clever. You’re gonna pay for that, sweetheart.”

Jihyo stared up to meet your eyes, accepting the challenge. “Oh, I’d love to see you try.” You pulled her into a rough kiss, void of the sweetness she had expected from you as teeth clashed and tongues wrestled for dominance. And Jihyo had to admit, she had never been more turned on in her life.

No matter what she threw at you, you gave it back to her ten fold, which was how she found herself hovering over your mouth. Her bikini bottoms completely soaked through, but you didn’t even bother to remove them as you pulled them to the side and licked a strip up the center of her pussy. Jihyo moaned at the feeling as she pressed lower trying to get more friction against her weeping folds.

You were arguably too horny to tease and you were quickly getting over your anger due to the ruined orgasm since the taste of the brunette on your tongue was just too enticing to abstain from. It had a sweet yet tangy flavor that you couldn’t get enough of as you ran the flat of your tongue almost to her clit, but stopped at the second, you weren’t letting her off the hook that easily.

But Jihyo was quick with her wits as she bucked forward trying to feel more of your tongue, “How about I give you a true taste of Guri?”

You laughed slightly, “Are you always this cheesy when you’re having sex or is this just for my benefit?” You didn’t give her a chance to respond as your tongue teased at her entrance, taking in more of her leaking arousal. But before you could dive deeper into the singer’s depths you pulled away to place a kiss to her inner thigh, “But, ever since I’ve gotten here, I feel like I’m living in a poorly written porn script.”

To her benefit, Jihyo had the humility to laugh as a genuine smile broke out onto her lips. “Well I’m disappointed that my seduction came off as poorly written porn. Was it really that bad?”

“To be fair, when you wanted me to touch your boobs you phrased it as a ‘hands on experience’.” You chuckled as you craned your neck to suck on her clit briefly, “I’ll give you the benefit of a doubt that it came off as cheesy rather than poorly written porn.”

Jihyo hummed as she lost focus on the conversation as she relished in the feeling of her clit getting the attention it so desperately craved, “I can accept that. But can we save the pillow talk for after, I think there are more pressing matters at the moment.”

You chuckled as you kissed her clit, “I agree. Why don’t you ride me, jagi, I want to see those beautiful tits bounce for me. Least you could do since you spilled oil all over me.”

The brunette smirked as she wiggled her way out of her bikini bottoms so that the two were completely naked, “I can definitely get on top of that idea and get on top of you as well.”

You both laughed out loud but your laughing ceased as Jihyo sank down on your cock. The feeling of being stretched open made the singer moan loudly as the rippling heat around your dick made you groan as one of your hands shot to hold onto Jihyo’s hip, guiding her down till you bottomed out inside of her. She breathed through her nose as she felt her inner walls adjust to the stretch, it had been awhile since she had been with anyone and her fingers were never this thick or this deep inside of her.

The brunette let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding as she slowly began to rise up from atop of your cock till only the tip remained inside of her then dropped down. Eliciting a moan from both of you as pleasure crawled up your spines. Jihyo bounced on your lap as your dick had enough curve to it to rub against the spot inside of her that made her see stars when she pulled out at just the right angle. Your eyes were transfixed on her wobbling tits as an unashamed look of lust adorned your face.

You even reached the hand that hadn’t found purchase on the brunette’s hip to continue squeezing and teasing her breasts. “Shit, just like that, good girl. You’re taking me so well.”

Jihyo’s breathing came out in clipped pants as she moved faster, the sound of her skin slapping against your’s made her blush as loud moans fell from her mouth. “God, only for you. You're filling me up so much.”

The singer sounded breathless as she began adding in the occasional rock of her hips to elicit more pleasure against her clit. You groaned beneath her as the hot and tight walls of Jihyo’s pussy gripped your shaft firmly, massaging it in a way that sent your head spinning. Everything felt amazing and the fact that you were even more pent up from the very unsatisfying release from before didn’t help. You felt dangerously close to the edge as you began thrusting up to meet Jihyo’s hips.

“Fucking shit, I’m so close, I’m gonna cum!” Your voice was strained as the idol’s inner walls tightened even more around you. There was only so much more of this that you could take before you were at the end of your wits.

“Cum inside, I’m on the pill. I’m almost there!” Jihyo’s voice raised an octave as her thrusts became a blur of short up and down movements. Not wanting to part from you for long as she reached a hand down to rub at her clit.

The sight of the woman atop you: riding you, touching herself, and her gigantic tits bouncing was enough to send you careening over the edge as you choked on a moan before feeling your abdomen contract and your balls tighten. Ropes of your cum shot deep inside of Jihyo as the feeling triggered the singer’s orgasm in turn and caused her walls to clench rhythmically around your cock.

Jihyo finally let out the scream she had been suppressing as she tilted her head back up to the sky as she came. Her release squirted out onto you ever so slightly as she felt your hot load in her womb. She sighed as her walls gave one final squeeze to your shaft after she had milked you for all you were worth. Jihyo looked down to see that your eyes had closed and a blissful smile graced your lips. She could tell you were awake, but barely.

That’s when her exhaustion seemed to hit her as well, she didn’t bother moving too much as she leaned forward to rest her body atop of yours. She could feel your dick softening a little inside of her as she placed lazy kisses on your neck, “That was amazing.”

You had started tracing random patterns on her naked back that she found oddly soothing, “I think amazing might be an understatement.”

Finally, you two broke the scene that the two of you had built as you wrapped your arms around your girlfriend. Placing a kiss to the crown of her head, “Thank you for doing this with me. I know a scene like this was a little weird.”

Jihyo grinned as she cuddled closer to you, “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, jagiya. I haven’t cum that hard in a long time”

You laughed slightly before a yawn cut you off, “Tell me about it. You even squirted!” The idol could practically feel the smug smile on your face as she rolled her eyes.

“Don’t get too full of yourself, Y/N-ah.” Jihyo yawned as she felt her eyes start to droop, “I’m gonna nap for a little, the whole thing really tired me out. I love you, jagi.”

You smiled as you pulled your girlfriend as close to you as humanly possible, “I love you too, Jihyo-ah.”

#twice #fortwice #twice imagines #twice prompts #twice smut #twice fluff #park jihyo #twice jihyo #park jihyo x g!p fem reader #g!p reader #twice x fem reader #twice x reader #twiceinadream

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breekento · 3 months

Note

hello! I love your fics on Higuruma on AO3! wanted to ask if you take any requests for Prisoner!Higuruma who survives culling games and turns himself in jail, but reader regularly visits him and waits for his release ?🥹 A bit of angst but fluff at the end please 💞

thank you for being my first fic request! I probably won’t write these as long as my fics on AO3 because it would take me months lol! But these are fun writing practices for me!

(wc: 1.6k, no smut, just pain and fluff)

“How are you sleeping, doll? Are you getting everything you need?” His voice crackles through the phone.

Your fingers tremble, squeezing the phone so tightly you were surprised it didn’t crumble in your grasp. “I guess so,” you reply in a small voice.

“I don’t like the sound of that, baby.”

You knew better than to lie, he was intelligent and ever observant of every hitch or quirk in your voice. “I just miss you, Hiro,” you say shakily.

He sighs deeply on the other line. “I miss you, too, doll. More than you can ever know. You’re still coming to see me tomorrow, right? I need to see that beautiful face.”

“Of, course.” How could you forget? It has become your weekly routine. Every week, the night before your visits with Hiromi, tossing hangers draped in clothes over your head in search of the perfect outfit. Open toed, too short, mesh, crop top. At some point you would need to go shopping for appropriate clothes to visit your boyfriend in prison but for whatever reason, it felt as if you were accepting defeat.

You knew very little of Hiromi’s mysterious work-life and he liked to keep it that way. The world of sorcery was foreign to you and your knowledge was shallow. Hence, the ringing in your ears, the numb feeling on your fingertips as your brain struggled to connect the dots on that day.

“I just don’t understand why you’re doing this to me, Hiro,” your voice was raspy, tears flowing down your face as you followed him out of the door.

“I can’t tell you,” he says, cold and distant as if he were desperately trying to disconnect from the harsh world around him.

“Look,” his voice is softer. His hands cup your face, lip distorted and eyebrows twisted upward in agony. “I’ve done bad, bad things. I can’t live with myself like this. You don’t want me here.”

“B-but how do you know? You don’t know,” you fumble over your words.

“I’ll be gone for a while, doll,” his forehead pressed against yours. At that moment, it felt doable. How long? Why? What have you done? You never asked, worried that you wouldn’t accept the answer.

Years had passed and it was doable. Not short of late nights, curled under the covers, fingers searching for the smell of his cologne and hair gel. Elbow stretched as far as you could reach, hand fumbling for the zipper on the back of your dress. Shit, if Hiromi was just here. Small tasks felt big.

Sitting behind your desk, mindlessly searching through your emails as a thinly faced coworker pops her head over the cubicle. “Are you going to the office pot-luck tonight?” She beams.

“Oh,” you jump in your seat. “I have plans.”

She frowns, resting her head on the half-wall. “You never do anything.”

You shrug, looking toward your computer screen. Explaining that you’re visiting your prison boyfriend was not something you cared to delve into with a superficial level of coworker.

The clock strikes 5:00pm and you are your own version of Cinderella, tossing your purse over your shoulder and striding towards the door. Only in this story, you weren’t running away from the probability of your carriage turning into a pumpkin. You were running toward your murderer of a boyfriend, clinging to that 30 minutes of quality time.

It couldn’t have been Hiromi. Not your Hiromi. The Hiromi who stayed awake late at night, holding your body close as it ached on your monthly. The Hiromi with tender fingers that grazed your skin covered in bubbles as you leaned against his skin as warm water poured over the two of you. The Hiromi who replaced the fresh flowers on your dining table every week, knowing you loved the scent. He couldn’t have been a killer. Surely it was for a reason. Was there such a reason?

“I’m here for Hiromi Higuruma,” you say through the window.

The guard’s eyes flicker to yours. Nodding before lifting the phone to her ear. Taking your cue, you sit in the waiting chair. Your legs bounce in anxiety, it never got easier.

The door swings open, a large guard standing in the doorway. Gathering your things, you walk toward the room. The room you knew too well. The tension in the air dissipates as the tall, dark-haired man stands before you. Even in this state, he was strikingly handsome. His hair, slicked back with strands falling forward onto his brow. His lips curl into a smile, eyes twinkling at the sight of you. His orange jump-suit hangs off of his body, wrists clasped together by handcuffs.

“There she is. My beautiful girl,” he purrs as you join him at the large table. It was just the two of you, and the guards that lined the perimeter. How romantic.

In his usual gentleman fashion, he waits for you to find your seat before sitting down himself. You adjust in your seat, face heating up as you scan his face.

“I missed you,” you say bashfully under his intense gaze.

“God. You get more beautiful every time I see you.”

You lean against the table, propping your head on your hands, “When are you ever going to get out of this place?”

“Funny you should say that,” he says with a grin. Your eyes widen, lifting yourself off of the table. “I have a date.”

Your mouth dries. “A-a date?”

“Doll, I’ve been here for 6 years. In a few months, they’re letting me out early for good behavior. Well, parole,” he says with a grin.

You stand from your seat, jaw slack and eyes rapid fire scanning his expression for any sign of a joke. “Y-you’re coming home?”

His eyes soften, looking up at you with those gorgeous sleepy eyes. “I’m going home, baby.”

Every muscle in your body wanted to lunge forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and tackling him to the ground. You haven’t even touched the man in years. You opt for covering your mouth with your hand.

“Keep holding on for just a few more months, doll. I’ll be home before you know it,” his eyes are kind.

“15 minutes,” the voice from the guard echoes throughout the empty room.

“My life here is boring. Tell me about yours. How’s work? How’s the house?”

He had truly set you up for success. You stayed in his home, completely paid for and taken care of by him. You didn’t have to work but you feared insanity spending your days alone in his large house. Brushing your teeth and watching his, dry and unused black toothbrush beside yours. His loafers that sit in the doorway, unworn and clean.

“Work is boring. They had a potluck tonight. My boss somehow thinks I’m the biggest idiot in the world while also piling more on my workload,” you say. It felt silly to complain about your mundane work tasks while he lived here. But he hung on your every word, soaking in the way your lips curled and eyes creased.

“Oh and I spent hours getting rid of weeds last weekend. The second you’re out of this place, that’s your job,” you say with narrow eyes.

He chuckles, leaning forward in his seat, “It will be my pleasure, baby.”

“It’s time,” the guard says. Each week, shattering your heart little by little. You stand, unable to stop the tears welling in your eyes.

“Don’t cry, darling. Not much longer. Just stay strong for a little longer,” his voice pleads.

You nod, using balled up fists to wipe your face. You watch him stand, towering over you as the guards guide him back to the mysterious place he now lived. He turns his face to catch your eyes, face sad as he watches the human form of his heart shatter before his eyes.

The door shuts and once again you are left alone. Only a few more months. Those words propelled you, every action you performed had a meaning suddenly. When you couldn’t reach something on the top shelf, when you couldn’t lift the garbage bag over your head, when you ran out of toilet paper you thought soon he will be here.

And soon came quick enough. You stood in front of your full length mirror, adjusting your sundress that fell over your curves. Your hair was fluffy and soft, draped over your shoulders. He knew what you looked like but you needed his first sight of you to be special, breathtaking.

With shaky hands and clammy feet, you stand outside the prison. If you weren’t leaning your body weight against the car door, you probably would have fallen over. You tap your foot anxiously, any minute now.

The door creaks open, a tall, lanky man dressed in black jeans and soft white shirt, the outfit he had left on that day. Before you could tell your feet to quit, you were running, no, sprinting towards the man.

He matches your speed, arms wrapping around your body as he lifts you from the ground. You bury your face in his neck, giggling through tears that coat his white t-shirt. His muffled laughs find your ears as he spins you, holding your body tightly. It had been years since you felt his hands on your back, his breath in your ear.

“I love you, I love you,” he chants against your face. He set you down, pressing both of his hands on each side of your face. “Let me get a good up-close look at my beautiful girl.”

Your cheeks blushed red under his gaze, “Let’s go home.”

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #fanfic #jjk fanfic #higuruma hiromi #jjk x you #higuruma x reader #higuruma hiromi x reader #hiromi x reader #hiromi jjk

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mamirhodessxox · 13 days

Note

😭😭 need a fic of him just in interrupting reader while baking ( reader could be a baker and trying new recipes to add to their menu )

Cherries On Top

Cody Rhodes x Baker Fem!Reader

Desc: Y/N is trying to focus on adding new sweet treats to her bakery’s menu but her husband tends to be a distraction.

Contents: Fluff, Cody being a little annoying but in a tolerable way, SMALL indications of smut, Y/N being a lil cutie Patootie!

🏷️ list: @alyyaanna @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @agent-dessis-posts @adollonyourshelf @mini-rhodes @southerngirl41 @harmshake @femdisa @kabloswrld @claymoresofinfamy23 @jeysbvck

{~I'm very serious with you guys interacting with my writing!!!! it would make me so happy & excited, the more comments & reposts the more inspiration i have to write :) likes and comments are strongly appreciated so please COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT COMMEENNTTT the more comments the more content <3!!!~}

Before Y/N & Cody established a relationship between them Y/N had a small little bakery filled with alll sorts of sweets & treats! Once a month she would spend an entire day whipping up pies & cakes and many other scones & sweets to add on the menu at her little bakery & do cooking youtube videos & Today was that day.

Y/N was in the middle of recording in the kitchen, Cody would walk by every now and then or stand behind her and watch over her shoulder to see what she was doing. But then he became more vocal.

She was currently working on a bourbon pound cake. “Don’t you need measuring cups for this part?” He questioned while his hand ran up and down her back while his wife shrugged “I’m just gonna add like a few shot glasses worth of bourbon.” He shot open his eyes and looked over at her camera set up and shook his head dramatically “She’s gonna get me drunk with a cake.” Since he was video bombing Y/N she decided that she would put him to a little work and start stirring the cake mix while she poured bourbon into the mix very carefully & poured him a small shot as a reward which he pridefully took

Y/N was instructing her future viewers how to carefully put the mixture into the pan & how long to leave it in the oven but Cody randomly popped back into the kitchen “Check out my gun.” She looked up as he interrupted her speech & smiled “It’s a salt shooter my dad got it for him.” “Maybe next time I make steak I can season salt onto it with my cool gun yeah?” She shook her head “No because you’re gonna break something. Just use your hands.” He glared for a second and sassily shook his head “I won’t break anything.”

6 minutes later Y/N worked on another small pastry while the cake was in the oven & suddenly the lights started flickering & she laughed a little before he walked back into camera frame “What are you whipping up now?” “Blueberry crois-“ “Hold on wait I have a quick question what did 50 cent do when he was hungry? 58.” “Your not funny.” He shrugged with a smug smile “I’m actually very funny.” She hummed nodding slowly “whatever helps you sleep at night my love.” He raised an eyebrow and looked at a bowl full of flour.

Hmmmm…….

Interesting…..

What if he just….

“CODY GARRET RUNNELS GODDAMNIT I’M GOING TO KILL YOU IN YOUR SLEEP!” Y/N stood there frozen as he actively poured flour over her head while letting out a mischievous laugh “uh ohh she said the full na-“ she splashed him in the face with water “well deserved.” She glared up at him & picked up her bowl filled with yet to be stirred eggs while grinning to herself as her husband backed up and raised his hands in defense “No…Y/N….” She squinted and nodded “your right that would be to messy.” She sighed while he let out a chuckle of relief but she caved & poured the eggs all over him making him gasp and look at her while she giggled & grabbed the flour bag before shaking what remained inside all over him before he turned starring at a glass of milk that sat on the counter next to one of the bowls it was supposed to be inside of.

Eventually she gave up on the video she tried making & giggled while playfully kissing her lover while he grinned biting her lip a little & grip at her waist “You sure you don’t wanna take it any furth-“ she nodded immediately and pulled away before prancing up the stairs to get clean “C’mon Codes your filthy.”

This was just the Cherry On Top for Cody, he immediately tossed away the kitchen towel & followed behind her before giving Y/N a light smack on the butt chuckling

“The shower is your best idea yet sweetheart.”

“Pervert.”

mamirhodessxox’s Masterlist

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kaiso-woo · 5 months

Text

The Date of All Dates

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

-> Masterlist

PART 5 of my ‘Stay Series’ - a long hypothesised journey of a relationship between Bang Chan and Reader.

WC: 10.5k (longer than usual, I am so sorry) | Synopsis: Slice of Life. Just a fun little date with your boyfriend ^-^ Oh what's that? The pair of you cause a scene at a restaurant? Society knows about your relationship? Is there a break up? What's happening?! Oh no!!

Notes: FLUFF + ANGST, Second Person Narration, Skz Fluent in English, Swearing, Idol!Chan, CaféOwner!Reader, Fem!Reader, Threatening (assassin?, fork?), Jealous!Chan (briefly), Angry!Chan (:DD), Drug Mention (in a joke), Swearing, Pet Names Used (Jagiya, Jagi, Baby, Babe, Love - there are like 50 million others if I'm being honest I'm not listing them all I'm sorry T-T), Kisses (Duh)

Here for a reading marathon? Head right back to the start!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

Overall ‘Stay Series’ Synopsis: Bang Chan experiences the suic!des of Stays, so when you lot choose to die, he dies right along with you. Reader is the “antidote” to this condition - BRIEF MENTIONS IN THIS FIC

PART 5

!!Casual reminder this is entirely fictitious - Chris/Christopher in my work does not represent the actual Bang Chan - this is purely my imagination and nothing more - this goes for all other SKZ-Members too!!

The video had popped up on your feed, and without much else to do, you clicked on it, happily fast forwarding to the action. Stray Kids had landed at the airport, preparing for a performance nearby. This live was a while ago though, and you smiled softly at the sight of Chris, walking with powerful strides behind the rest of the group, his protective eyes peering out from between his mask and beanie.

The man in question nudged your shoulder, squinting curiously at you, again, covered up by the same mask. Different beanie this time though, and he had his hood pulled up over the top. “Why’re you watching that when I’m right here?” he chuckles, leaning in so he can speak directly in your ear.

“I’m not allowed to come watch you land, so at least I can watch it here,” you chuckle back, admiring the way the Chris on your phone comfortingly placed a hand on Jisung’s back to direct him through the crowd, letting him know he wasn’t alone. “I don’t understand why JYP won’t let you really,” Chris mumbles, snuggling in closer to watch himself over your shoulder.

You tilt your phone screen towards him slightly, “I think it’s obvious.” “Yes but you could just be any other fan. I’m not saying you should personally be waiting to pick me up. You could still be in the crowd though,” he reaches over to slide your phone out of your hand, blinking at you once for permission. He rewinds the video slightly so he can analyse it again, always on the lookout for how he can improve his idol impression.

“And what if you see me? Can you pretend that you don’t know me?” you tease, opening your palm to ask for your phone back. “I’m not an idiot, I’m not about to profess my undying love at the sight of you,” Chris rolls his eyes as he places your phone back in your hand, and you switch it off, “although that is tempting to do,” he finishes with a wink.

You huff and slump further into your chair, turning away from him so you can watch the houses and cars whip past you outside the train window. “On second thought, Stays might correctly interpret the happiness in my eyes as me being in love with someone in the crowd, which is absolutely correct – so yeah, maybe JYP is right.”

You turn back to him with every intention to prove that his eyes can’t possibly be overanalysed by Stays like that, but your words die in your throat when you lock eyes. He’s right. Stays would easily be able to tell. Even with his mouth obscured, and majority of his head covered with a beanie and hoodie, the radiant joy emanating from his eyes is enough to melt your heart. The corners of his eyes are crinkled slightly, but his eyes are still wide with rapt attention. You tilt your head and scan his irises closely.

It's not often in real life that you would use the term ‘sparkling’ to describe someone’s eyes; maybe if you’re writing sure, which is rare enough as is. You couldn’t think of anything else to describe the way he’s looking at you though, so with a sigh you settle for that mental description and decide to change the topic. “Where are we going?” you ask him, glancing up at the map listing the train destinations above the opposite window.

“Somewhere fun,” he simply replies. You raise an eyebrow at him, but decide to give it up for a while. You’d been asking him the same question at random intervals, hoping to surprise the answer out of him, but he hasn’t said anything truly useful. The pair of you lapse into a comfortable silence, and after a while your gaze goes unfocused, lost in your own thoughts. Chris’ hand sneakily slips into yours, and he places it neatly on his thigh, carefully stroking your knuckles. This shakes you out of your reverie, and you glance at your linked hands, a small smile gracing your features. This would have been completely cute if you hadn’t looked up at Chris’ face, his eyes frosty, staring at someone on the opposite chairs to you two.

The poor man opposite was now awkwardly looking away, a blush spreading from his neck upwards. “What’d he do to you? What’s with the glare?” you ask, slowly piecing together the reasoning for Chris’ actions, but wanting to hear it from the man himself.

“He was staring at you,” Chris grumbles, letting his head drop onto your shoulder, his hand still gripping yours. “Okay… well while he was doing that, I was busy thinking about how soft your lips are. There’s no need to be possessive,” you chide, trying to prove a point. Chris laughs and unlinks your hands, instead stretching his arm out around your shoulders protectively.

“My lips? So randomly? You can’t even see them right now.” You grin cheekily and tilt his head towards yours, then press a little kiss to his mask, “I don’t need to see them to think of them.” Chris’ eyes go wide, his thoughts frazzled, scanning the features of your smiley expression. Without even thinking, he pulls his mask down briefly to properly give you a quick kiss, then pulls his mask up and sits back in his chair like nothing had happened.

“Chris,” you hiss, “Don’t do that again. What if someone recognises you?” He gives you the side eye, contemplating, but then shrugs and dismisses the topic. You sigh and lean into his embrace, worried that his antics will lead to your photos plastered on the internet. Catching the train was risky enough, but your car was currently being serviced. Even though a little day spent hanging out in your apartment together would have sufficed, Chris was insistent on taking you out and about.

You only agreed because you figured he didn’t deserve to be cooped up on one of the few days he could mentally and physically rest.

Once you got off the train, Chris immediately linked your hand with his and pulled you through the crowd, his head bent low to try and hide his face better. Being out in the public with him like this always made you nervous, and you could tell Chris was aware of it by how he was rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand. Generally, when you went on dates, you’d stalk out café’s that weren’t busy, or seek beaches with no crowd. It had become a recent hobby of yours, scouring the internet or roaming around town for cute little nooks and crannies you could safely spend time with him at.

This time however, Chris wouldn’t tell you where you were going, and apart from his vague disguise and minute efforts to keep his head low, everything was at risk. A part of you had a gut feeling that he simply didn’t care anymore. You walked side by side in silence, squinting in the bright sunlight. Carefully, you tried to arrange your hand in his, worried that it was getting too sweaty. Chris glanced at you, shook his head with a slight chuckle, and offered his arm for you to link with instead.

“You going to tell me where we’re going yet?” you urge, constantly eyeing the people walking past to make sure they don’t recognise him. “Not until you relax,” he hums, watching your anxious expression. “You aren’t going to tell me even if I do relax,” you huff, heart stilling at the gaze of a young girl’s eyes lingering on Chris for a little too long.

“Well… if it’s any consolation, I found something for us to do where no one will be able to see my face,” he directs the pair of you around a corner as you stare at him questioningly. Wasn’t that always the idea? “It’ll be dark,” he continues, coming to a halt right in front of a place you don’t recognise. In fact, you haven’t recognised the location for a while now, which has only added to your concerns. You sigh in disbelief as you read the sign above your head.

“Laser tag?” you croak, slowly turning to look at Chris with every ounce of judgement you can muster. Your heart cracks a little at the sight of his eyes dulling, the life dying within them at your apparent disappointment. “Yeah…?” You chuckle and slip your arm out of his to grab his wrist. Then without pause, roughly tug him inside the building, “Alright babe but don’t expect my sympathy when you lose!”

Chris’ relief is evident in his laugh, and you hate yourself for a second there, for ever making him doubt himself in the first place. “You forget who I am,” he teases, “There’s no way I’m going to lose.”

He was right. It is dark. Even though there are coloured lights flickering around and the diminished haze of a few button lights on the walls, your vision is limited. In fact, you reckon the LEDs flashing around obnoxiously like you’re in a disco party are meant to confuse and make things more difficult, not actually help you. Your teams had been randomised, and you have to say, your teamwork was shoddy at best. Your side of the game kind of just treated it as an ‘every person for themselves’ kind of situation.

Originally, the staff had asked whether the group wanted their teams randomised or selected themselves. Randomised won majority (much to your chagrin), and Chris had been placed on your team. Upon seeing the way Chris was standing behind you, his arms wrapped in a hug around your waist, chin on your head, one of the staff members swapped him with someone in the other team with a devilish grin. Thanks, now the game was truly on.

It's been maybe 10 minutes, and you haven’t seen Chris anywhere. You’ve scored a few good shots on his team though, peeking out of window holes and ducking from one blockade to the next. You had a feeling Chris had commandeered his team, naturally slipping into a leadership role. They seemed to hunt and shoot in a coordinated effort, often ambushing and sneaking up from all sides. Something felt off about them however, they seemed restrained, pulling away frequently when there was still plenty of opportunity. Sometimes you noticed, they seemed to get bored of shooting a member of your team.

Chris had removed his beanie as he walked into the arena, carefully tucking it into his belt for safekeeping, and the last thing you saw of him was the fuzzy curls of his hair. He’d assured you he’d keep his mask on, and now that you think about it, you were quite positive this had only contributed to his team easily following his orders. What kind of person wouldn’t follow the directions of a mysterious, good-looking man who spoke with an eased authority?

You winced as your suit lights flashed after a laser gun sound effect played from over by your right. Someone had found you. You leapt through the window above you and disappeared on the other side of the wall, taking shelter for a second. When the sound died, you took the opportunity to push yourself up and scamper away, looking for a better spot to recuperate and maybe counterattack.

“Chris!” you froze at the calling, trying to listen again over the sound of guns firing and the music playing in the background, “Oi! Chris! She’s over here!”

Oh shit.

You took off at a sprint, heart thumping wildly in your chest, gun abandoned at your waist. You ducked around a wall, leapt over another, and found yourself standing, breathing heavily, backed into a carefully chosen corner. There were no windows on either side of you, and the wall was far too high for anyone to jump over. You admit, it wasn’t the best choice in regard to an escape route, you were literally cornered. However, you could never outrun Chris, so you figured the best option was to bunker down and hide for a while.

Suddenly, all firing completely ceased. You weren’t sure what your teammates were doing, or what Chris’ team was doing for this matter. You didn’t know this of course, but Chris had managed to parkour his way to the top of the wall you were currently cowering behind. His teammates were watching eagerly from below, on the other side of the wall, trying to stifle their chuckles. No wonder all the shooting had stopped. How was your team supposed to shoot the opposite team if they were all stalking you?

Chris watched you for a second, his eyes gleaming in the darkness, then swivelled around from his perched position to offer his team a salute. In a fluid motion, he jumped off the wall backwards, landing right in front of you. Your scream made his team collapse into raucous laughter, and for a second there, they could have been Chris’ Kids.

“Jesus fuck how did you even-” you’re cut off by Chris pulling down his mask, trapping you up against the wall, and kissing you softly. He backs away after a second, whispering, “You’ve lost this one babe,” and with an infuriating raise of his hand, shoots you, your lights going off again in the location where most points are gained.

Before you can even process, let alone say anything in response, Chris disappears behind the wall to return to his team, and you can hear him yell, “Mission accomplished guys, the floor is all yours, thanks for your help.” “Our pleasure!” “Too easy.” “All good bro.”

You beeline along the path ahead of you, rocketing away from Chris’ team members that have dashed around the wall, eager to attack. You almost collide with one of your own team members, who sees the flock of people chasing you and runs alongside you.

“WHY ARE THEY ALL CHASING YOU?!” she yells, ducking around a corner to try and get some shots in. “My devil of a boyfriend,” you spit, joining her and helping to make the group scatter.

You were right. They were holding back earlier. If there was any hope that your team was out on top, that was most certainly not the case by the end. Even with you trying to organise your team once you eventually found each other, Chris’ yelled commands and his team’s speed, stealth and ferocity was unmatched. His encouragement and cheers of celebration could be heard literally everywhere you went, and his team caught on. Their motivational yells and cheers worked wonders on boosting their team.

By the time the siren blasted over the speakers, and the white lights flashed on, immediately blinding, you were a sweaty, huffing mess. You meandered your way over to the exit, following the stream of people jostling each other to snag some cold water first. Chris bounded up to you out of nowhere, slinging an arm around your shoulders and unnecessarily leaning on you. You almost buckle under his weight, exhausted to the core.

“How was that, hey?” he laughs, shaking you slightly in his adrenalin-rushed state. You simply groan in response and amble your way over to the scoring board on the TV. He already has his beanie back on his head, although a few of his curls are sticking out haphazardly.

Naturally, Chris’ team hurtles towards the pair of you, having already discovered that they won. Chris remains attached to you but offers a round of enthused high fives, congratulating them and praising their teamwork.

“You should join an official team,” someone grinned at him, to which Chris only laughed in response, shaking his head. “I don’t live around here, I’m only here to visit my girl,” Chris tugs you closer, and you smile sheepishly, hesitant to interact when Chris is potentially seconds away from being discovered.

“Surely your number then. Hit me up when you’re here and we can play another game?” he asks, tilting his head imploringly. Chris’ eyes widen and you tense at the question, unsure about how he’s going to handle this.

“I can’t do that, I’m sorry,” he replies simply, trying to convey his sincerity through his eyes. A girl from Chris’ team wanders over, casually eyeing Chris from head to toe now that they were out in visibility again, “What about me? Up for trades?” she asks, her eyes wide and innocent.

Chris shakes his head again, and you tug his hoodie in a warning. It was time you wrapped this up and left. “What are you a celebrity or something? Why are you hiding your face?” the girl asked, squinting at Chris, as though trying to see underneath his mask.

“What if I was?” Chris nonchalantly replies, and at this you take a fistful of his hoodie and make to drag him away, mind spinning, heart stuck somewhere in your throat. “I’d try harder for your number!” she states, eyes boring into your own.

“Not a chance, I’m very much taken,” Chris pulls you into a tight embrace, burying your terrified face into his chest. You wrap your arms tightly around him, worried about the words that are going to tumble out of his mouth. “I’m not allowed to give my number out to anyone, company rules,” he murmurs, and at this you crane your neck to stare at him. (A/N: I do not know if this is actually true, just pretend it is T-T.)

Two things he said there were horribly wrong. One, he basically just admitted that he was in fact a celebrity, two… “You gave me your number though,” you point out, frowning. He glances down at you and pulls your head back into a hug. “I broke the rules for you.”

Immediately, you stop breathing at his words, cheeks blossoming a lovely shade of pink, and you mumble into his chest, “Is that why… you fought with…” “How’d you find out about that?” he interjects sharply. It seems you two have almost completely forgotten about the other two people standing in silence, watching you.

“Suhee… Suhee told me…” you answer after a moment’s hesitation. Chris only sighs and brings a hand up to caress the side of your face, “Everything’s fine now though yeah? Don’t even think about it.”

“So… is Chris even your real name?” the bloke asks, startling the pair of you out of your bubble. “Of course not,” Chris replies, then with a slight tip of his head as a goodbye, he grabs your hand and walks you out of the building. Not before you manage to hear the man and woman talking to each other, “Google him.” “How? We don’t even have his name.” “Take a picture quickly.” “’Ness that’s not right. We’re not going to do that.”

You silently thank the man, and mentally spit on ‘Ness, but speed up your pace regardless, hoping to get out of sight and out of mind.

You’re back on the train again, headed closer to home where you can stake out your favourite restaurant for a bite out to eat. It’s your favourite mostly because of the semi-private booths they provide, and if Chris sits up against the wall, he’s hidden relatively well. Chris heaves a deep sigh and wriggles out of your snuggle, whining about being hot and stripping himself of his hoodie.

“I’m sweating more than I did in laser tag,” he complains, folding it neatly and placing it on his lap, then snuggling back up to you. Carefully, you ease the hoodie out of his lap with a cheeky grin on your face, aware of Chris’ eyes watching your every movement.

“I’ll hold it for you,” you comment, sticking your tongue out when he rolls his eyes knowingly, “You’ll hold it, or you’ll permanently borrow it?” You hug it tightly, playing with the fabric between your fingers, then bring it up to your face to inhale its scent.

You’d never have been able to guess his perfume’s ingredients if he hadn’t read it out to you one day to satisfy your curiosity: notes of spicy pink pepper and creamy ylang-ylang (that’s a tropical tree originating from the Philippines btw), combined with fierce musk and a sensuous vanilla base. That scent alone is enough to make your heart swell, a sense of safety and security washing over you with each breath.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Chris puzzles, “Why are you smelling my hoodie like it’s cocaine?” You pull your nose away from his hoodie to calmly respond, “Because this is my cocaine you dumb twat.”

Chris laughs and rests his head on your shoulder, looking up at you through his eyelashes, “I know mate, I just wanted to hear you say it.” “That your scent is my cocaine?” you grimace, neatly placing the hoodie onto your lap. “Okay well not that specifically,” he pouts, “just that my scent drives you insane.”

“You are a strange man,” you tut, resting your head on top of his, wishing more than anything in the world at that moment that you could remove his beanie so you could feel his soft curls. “You seem to like this strange man, so I think you’re stranger.”

Finally, you’re sitting opposite Chris, slurping happily away on your cookies and cream smoothie while Chris takes generous sips from his pineapple juice. You’re sitting in your favourite spot waiting patiently for your food to arrive. Chris locks his phone and places it face down on the table, turning his attention to you with crinkled eyes. He’s wearing his hoodie again, much to your disappointment, so he can use his hood to hide behind instead of his beanie, giving his hair some room to breathe. Your eyes roam the curls, savouring the peaceful silence as you stare at each other.

Eventually, Chris begins to chat away, and you reciprocate his enthusiasm, laughing and giggling at the stories he tells you about Skz, adding your own input when his words remind you of something, and even as you eat, you continue to rally stories and questions back and forth at each other. “Bailey’s coming in for day care tomorrow.” “Is he? The one that looks like Berry?!” “Mhm!” “Can he stay with me upstairs?” “Uhm… I don’t see why not…”

You glance down at your plate and realise there’s only one mouthful left and blink in surprise. Chris had finished his meal a couple of minutes ago and was leaning back into the booth leisurely. You shovel it into your mouth and scoot out of your seat to pay for the food before he can, but he leans over and snatches at your arm, frowning at you.

“We’ve talked about this a million times before jagiya,” he clarifies, his eyes narrowed, “you’re not allowed to pay.”

You raise your eyebrows at him and yank your arm out of his grip, “Then you should have beaten me to it.”

You scamper away swiftly as Chris lunges for you again, sending a jolt through your heart as he scrambles up to chase you. “Yah! Dol-awa!” (Come back here!) he yells, but you don’t really need to. He’s already hooked an arm around your waist and trapped you between his arms, your wriggling and laughter doing nothing against his strong grip.

“Okay okay okay. I won’t pay. You can let me go,” you fuss, scrabbling at his hands, but he sighs and hugs you tighter. “Never. Will never let you go,” he mumbles, kissing the back of your head affectionately.

You’re not aware of this, but his hood has fallen down in his scramble to stop you, and without his mask since he was eating, he’s completely and utterly exposed. The lady at the counter looks up to sus out what the commotion is about, and her eyes immediately widen at the sight of Chris’ head perched lovingly on top of yours.

“Bang Chan?” she gasps, the delirious excitement evident in her awestruck expression. Your heart plummets into the ground as Chris stiffens around you. “Hi! Oh my gosh, please can we take a picture together?” she hurries around the desk, swiftly pulling her phone out, and Chris instinctively drags you protectively behind him, hiding your face.

“Ah- ah no. No sorry, no photos today,” he rushes, arranging his hood that you’ve haphazardly tugged onto his head again. The lady pauses and seems to remember you’re there, her phone dropping to her side. She points at you with a curious tilt of her head, “Is she…?”

You cringe and step away from Chris, walking with your hair curtaining your face back towards your restaurant booth. You’re dimly aware of the rest of the restaurant guests peeking over the top of their booths and leaning over to get a better view. “Is there someone famous here?” “Who’s she asking for a photo?” “Bang Chan, she said Bang Chan.” “BANG CHAN?!” “Who’s he with?” “Who’s she? His girlfriend?” “No way is Bang Chan dating someone.” “Eva’s going to be so mad.” “I wonder how Stays are going to handle this.” “Come on, we have to get a photo.”

Chris swivels around and follows you back to the booth, smiling sheepishly and pulling his hood even further over his head. “Babe let’s go,” he whispers, but the neighbouring table hears his muted words, and the whole restaurant is chattering again. “They’re dating. He called her babe.” “Did you get a good look at her? Is she even pretty?” “She’s kind of average.”

Chris flinches, his eyes downcast as he realises his mistake, but you offer him a small smile of encouragement and gather your things. Chris thinks for a second, his hands fiddling, then pulls his hoodie off himself and yanks it over your head. He whisks his beanie off the table, tugs it onto your head and hands you his mask from his pocket. You blink at him, but put it on regardless, finishing off the disguise by pulling the hood up over your head. He seems to care more about your coverage than his own. “There’s no way they aren’t dating.” “I think he settled.” “What does she have that I don’t?”

You can see Chris’ jaw clench, the offhand comments beginning to annoy him, so you shake your head at him and nod towards the exit. He grabs your hand, making your heart thump wildly in fear – he’s really not doing anything to help ease the rumours. “Chan who is she?” “Do you even like her?” Chris pauses, and you try to tug him onwards, pleadingly.

“She’s the love of my life and that’s that,” he snaps, the break from his usual polite stature towards fans causing the restaurant to fall silent. You gulp and hiss at him, his name falling from your mouth in a panicked urgency. Half of the people in here probably didn’t even know who he was; just crazed at the experience of being in the proximity of a celebrity.

“He’s not even that good-looking, you sure he’s famous?” you hear someone whisper, and your head turns towards the voice, an unknown flame sparking, “He’s probably only famous because his father’s rich or something. That’s how it is these days, isn’t it?” they continue, and you stalk over to them, causing Chris to stare at you in surprise, too busy glaring at the restaurant guests to hear the comments about himself.

You slam your palm onto their table, causing the two girls to jump in surprise. “You say anything else about him and I will skewer you,” you lean over and snatch her fork from her plate, “with your own fucking fork.” “Bold words from a girl cowering in her boyfriend’s clothes,” the other girl smirks, folding her arms challengingly.

“At least I have a boyfriend,” you seethe, hand clenching around the fork. “Nice try bitch, I have one too.” “Not after my famous boyfriend with a rich father sends an assassin after him.”

Her eyes widen at that, and you lazily throw the fork back onto the table. “His name’s Bang Chan, as I’m sure you’ve heard, why don’t you google him on the phone you’ve been taking pictures of us with-”

Chris swoops in out of nowhere before you can finish your sentence, grabbing you by the waist again to lead you away. When you try to free yourself, blood boiling and not finished with your fight, he bends down and hoists you over his shoulders, walking you out of the restaurant while you yell in fury. After a while, he puts you back down, commands you to stay put while he returns to pay for the meal, and you begin to regret your actions. Chris seemed eerily nonchalant, and you knew you crossed a line by confronting those two girls. You probably made things more difficult actually, and you cringed as you pictured the next headline.

‘K-pop idol Bang Chan of Stray Kids allegedly dating a psychotic woman who threatened restaurant guests”

You’re so busy letting your thoughts eat away at your mind that you don’t even realise Chris is standing in front of you again. “C’mon, let’s go home,” he sighs, his hands tucked into his shorts pockets. “I messed up didn’t I?” you mumble, not daring to look him in the eye.

“I did too. It’s okay. I’ll sort it out with JYP later,” his eyes briefly skim over the sign above your head, and he disappears inside the store he left you in front of. After a minute, he returns with a packet of skittles for you. “Just forget about it for now okay? I’ll figure it out when I get back to Korea. And who knows… maybe everyone in there has a conscience and won’t even consider posting anything.” You snort and tear open the packet of skittles, craving the sour lollies all of a sudden, “That’s being overly optimistic.”

Chris laughs and begins to follow the route back to your café, you trailing behind him sadly, shoving skittles in your mouth with the mask pulled down to your chin. You frown at Chris’ back and the realisation hits you. He’s likely going to fight with JYP again. He’s likely going to be given a choice between you or his career. You can tell from his deflated posture as he walks ahead of you that he’s thinking the same thing.

You can feel that dreadful sting in the corners of your eyes intensifying, and reflexively, you close the distance between you two, snagging him in a back hug. You deliriously rub your face into his shirt, trying to stop yourself from crying, and he arches his back in response with a little gasp, “That tickles.”

“I’m sorry Chris. I’m so so sorry.” “None of this is your fault. I wasn’t careful enough.” “You’re always careful. I saw that the restaurant was kind of full today, I shouldn’t have suggested it. I’m the one who’s not careful” “That’s enough. I said forget it.” Chris squirms around and pulls you into a proper hug, sighing into the top of your head, “Don’t you worry… about a thing… it’s going to be okay, yeah?” he inflects the statement into a question, and you think he’s trying to reassure himself more than you.

You won’t let him choose. You’re not going to let him pick between his career or you. That’s not happening. He shouldn’t have to do that. You clench your teeth and bite back the tears, willing them to stay trapped in your eyes. You’ve made your decision. You pull away from him, eyes glistening with an unmatched determination.

Chris’ face darkens at the sight, and he cups your face in his hands desperately, reading every single line of your set expression correctly. “No. I know what you’re thinking, and I’m telling you now – do not, under any fucking circumstance, think it.”

You remain silent, drowning yourself in his desperate eyes, lips frozen in a thin line. “Y/N no. Don’t.” “Want some skittles, Chris?” you nonchalantly ask, tearing your eyes away from him to stare into the contents of the bag still in your hands.

“No. No I don’t want skittles. I need you to fucking understand-” “I understand,” you interject, eyes flickering back up to him, but you figure your emotions aren’t controlled enough, and you can see the panic rise in his beautiful irises. “No you fucking don’t. I can see you fucking don’t. Everything is going to be okay. I’ll sort it out, I promise,” he insists, clutching your face just that little bit tighter. “I know you will. Now do you want some skittles or not?”

Chris glares at you, then pulls you into another rough hug, squeezing the air out of your lungs. You wish he wouldn’t. He’s making it so much harder for you to keep back the dam of tears threatening to overflow. “This- this here, in my arms right now, is my entire world. I’m not going to let anyone take that from me,” he whispers, and your heart crumbles to pieces.

Would he let you take it from him?

“Please eat some skittles. Sugar makes you feel better. Just don’t eat all of them okay?” you mumble into his shirt, and he pulls away, bitterly laughing, “Alright, give me those damn skittles.” You pass them over to him, smiling brightly. When he grins back at you, it’s like everything has fallen back into place, none of that just happened, it’s just the two of you again, the world fading into blurry insignificance around you.

You’ll miss him.

For now though, you’re going to spend as much time with him as possible. You’re contemplating the situation as you sit on your bed, Chris calling out to you from the other side of the bedroom door. “Quit being mean~ let me in.” (A/N: What happened to "spending as much time with him as possible, hm?)

You’ve been checking the internet consistently, anxiously waiting for the news of your relationship with him to be leaked. Nothing was up so far. If something does happen, then Chris will naturally fly back to Korea as originally scheduled in a few days and immediately try to sort things out with JYP. It might work out well, it might not. You know however, that if he’s ever forced to pick between his career and you, you’re not going to let him choose you. “Jagiyaaaa… baby I miss you… let me in please?”

You sigh and flop back onto your bed just as your phone pings with a notification. Your heart stops – this is it… dispatch have found out surely. The relief that floods through your veins resolves into amusement when you realise the notifications are from Chris. He’s spamming you.

(A/N: When dialogue is in script format, it's meant to represent text messages.)

Chris: “baby I’m sorry” Chris: “please let me in baby” Chris: “muffin?” Chris: “sweet pea?” Chris: “the love of my life” Chris: “beautiful cinnamon roll who’s too pure for this world”

You grin at the new endearments emerging, feeling your insides go all soft and squishy at his antics. After a moment of thought, you message him back.

You: “Sorry doesn’t bring back my fucking skittles Christopher”

You pad over to the door as Chris yells in frustration, “I didn’t mean to. You offered them to me, and you were right. Sugar does make you feel better.” As soon as you unlock the door and swing it open, Chris’ face lights up with joy. He tackles you with a hug that makes you stumble back in surprise, and you desperately fight back your grin, opting for an annoyed expression. “Don’t lock me out again like that please. You need to be by my side at all times. 24/7. That was torture.”

You snort and carefully push him off you, wandering back to the bed, “We’re literally in a long-distance relationship, how am I supposed to be with you 24/7?” Chris waddles over to you, but you frown at him and point to the floor, “Nah-uh. You sit on the floor, I’m still mad at you.” He whines and pouts at you, his eyes as wide as saucers.

You know you’ll cave if he starts acting cute with you, so you pick up your phone and busy yourself with social media. Chris plonks himself down on the floor with a sigh, his legs splayed out wide in a V-shape, “I’ll buy you more skittles.” “I wanted those ones. They were special.”

“Since when? I’ll buy you as many special skittles as you want,” he huffs, folding his arms. Over the next few minutes, you do your best to ignore his whines of distress and needy sighs, his pet names and sugary chatter. You’ve been watching him out of the corner of your eye and decide to ignore the fact that he’s somehow moved a metre forward from where he originally was.

You yawn and stretch, putting your phone down to look at him properly for the first time in a while. Immediately, he stretches his arms wide and grasps rapidly at the air in front of him, asking quietly for cuddles, his legs bouncing in sync. Best leader. Five-year-old. Kangaroo. Mashed potato. You shake your head at him and give in, his adorable antics filling your heart too much. You crawl off the bed and settle into his outstretched arms, nestling your face into his neck. You place a delicate kiss there, and mumble against his skin, “If you ever, ever eat all my skittles again when I tell you not to, I will end you.”

Chris laughs and wraps his arms and legs securely around you. “You can end me whenever you want love. Just as long as it’s you doing it.” You pinch him lightly with an amused laugh, “You’re such a cheesy ass.” “Only for you~” he laughs, the vibrations from his throat rippling through you.

“Shut the fuck up, when are you going to stop saying that!” you yell, sitting up properly in his arms and trying to escape from his grip. “I’ll stop when I stop loving you. Which is never,” his grin could almost be described as sadistic as he tightens his grip on you, proving his point.

“Jesus Christ, oh my god you’re atrocious,” you grin, hiding your face with your hands in embarrassment. “Awh is my girl shy? There’s no need to hide baby, you’re adorable when you’re shy.” “Shut.” “Come on… there’s no need to hide your beautiful face,” he teases, pulling at your fingers to try and remove them.

“I said shut-” your words resolve into giggles as he begins to tickle you, your muscles tensing at his actions, “Chris- okay stop- no- hey! Stop-,” you plead, rolling around on the floor desperately. Chris places his hands on either side of your head, leaning over you, giving you time to breathe.

He shifts his weight to one of his arms and affectionately brushes your hair out of your face, “I meant what I said, yeah? I’m never going to stop loving you.” You smile and pull him down on top of you, whispering heartfelt sweet nothings into his hair.

You don’t think you ever will either. Which hurts.

It’s later on in the night and you’re typing away on your laptop, sitting cross-legged on the couch, sorting through a few financial reports and business requirements to finish up the night. Chris is also busy working, sitting by the TV with his back to the wall, his laptop charging.

“Are you sure you’re comfy down there?” you ask him swiftly, eyes refusing to leave your computer screen even when he glances up at you. “With the amount of blankets and pillows you’ve thrown at me to use, you’d think I’d be comfy enough,” he grins, shuffling around a little and arranging the pillow at his back.

“I just don’t think you should be sitting on the floor,” you roll your eyes, pausing briefly to stretch your fingers. “You made me sit on the floor before,” he teases, clicking his touch pad in quick succession.

“That’s different,” you grumble, arching your back and trying to fix your posture, “although I have to say, sometimes I think the floor is comfier,” you finish up the sentence you’re typing out, uncross your legs, and move to sit on the floor, your back resting comfortably up on the couch.

The minutes pass as you fall into silence again, the atmosphere humming with a productive energy. You were antsy earlier, fidgety, still waiting for an article, or a social media post, or anything that would begin the drastic snowball of catastrophic events. Instead of worrying Chris, you chose to occupy your mind with work. Chris picked up on your productive mood and sat down to work too, and it had been a little over 2 hours since then.

Neither of you moved from your positions, except to stretch and grab a glass of water or snack for one another. You had basically forgotten about the whole fiasco, so absorbed in your own work, that when a notification from a newsagent you’re subscribed to pops up on your screen, your heart initially leaps in excitement; your body already used to reacting this way in the hopes that it’s something to do with Stray Kids. Your mind clicks back into reality, and you stop breathing as you click on it with your mouse.

“Bang Chan of K-Pop group ‘Stray Kids’ rumoured to be dating”

The bold title leaps at you, and your eyes seem to be glued to it, rereading it over and over again. Eventually, you remember you need to breathe, and exhale as you scroll down the page. You lick your lips nervously as you skim the article and briefly assess the photos complimenting it. Overall, the both of you had done an exemplary job at keeping your face hidden. None of the photos showed more than your hair and eyes. It was so blatantly obvious that it was Chris in the photos though, which would make it hard to refute the idea that he was dating at all.

He so… clearly was. Although taken out of context, and in the incorrect sequence of events, every single picture that had Chris’ expression in it displayed genuine worry, or a fondness that couldn’t be mistaken. Fuck. You glance up at Chris, wondering if he’d seen the article yet, but he appears to be engrossed in his work, his headphones snug around his ears, biting his bottom lip in concentration.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and let out a shuddering breath, trying to mentally prepare yourself for the following days, heck, the following weeks. Maybe even months. And now, the inexplicable urge to have Chris next to you overwhelms you. You might lose him soon, and you’re busy working away? He’s right there. Metres away, and he’s not snuggling with you? How pathetic.

“You’re too far away,” you grumble, staring pointedly at him and crossing your arms. Chris glances up and pulls his headphones off, “Sorry?” “Why’re you so farrrr?” you pout, mimicking the same grabby motions he had used earlier. You stare sadly in his silence, watching the corner of his mouth twitch, “The outlet is here, and you made it so comfy.”

Internally, you curse your kindness and sniff in disappointment, turning back to your work, “Fine then, be that way.” “Don’t be so dramatic,” Chris scoffs, putting his headphones back over his ears, but his grin has finally broken through.

Just as you knew he would, after a few more minutes of silence, but little work, Chris unplugs his computer and saunters over to you, plopping down next to you with a quiet grunt. You give him a little smirk, and a classic side eye, then go back to pretending to be completely absorbed in your report.

“Shut up,” he sighs, snuggling closer so your shoulders are touching. “I didn’t say anything,” you grin, cherishing his warmth, his presence. Now your productive mood has evaporated, the event you were trying to distract yourself from having already occurred.

You put in your best effort to write another paragraph but give up halfway through and end up staring blankly at the screen, mind trying to think over how best you convince Chris to let you go. A thought crosses your mind, and you consider it wholeheartedly, directing your brain power into imagining the past two years without Chris in your life.

What if you had never accepted his request to film Skz-Code in your café? What if you had ghosted him when he messaged you? What if you hadn’t noticed him, standing on that bridge? What if you were too occupied with James? What if… no… he’d be dead.

The thought remains in the forefront of your mind, and without your knowledge, tears begin to trickle down your cheeks. Somehow, a part of you knew that you were meant to see him then. You couldn’t explain that searing pain or voice in your head, and you weren’t about to try and figure it out now. Chris has been watching you for a while now, his head turned slightly, eyes flickering from your stock-still hands to the misery in your expression.

He reaches across and gently wipes one of your tears away, making you flinch in surprise. Truthfully, he was quite comfy where he was by the outlet. He wasn’t planning on moving to sit next to you, knowing full well that he’d lose all sense of productivity by snuggling up to you. That all changed when his phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see a message in the group chat consisting of only Stray Kids. Hyunjin had sent the article, and he didn’t need to click on it to know what it was about.

Hyunjin: “Chan? You know about this right?” Chris: “yeah”

Hyunjin: “what’re you going to do?”

Felix: “is Y/N okay?” Felix: “you haven’t broken up yet have you?”

His heart throbbed at the thought, and he swiftly typed out a response, trying to quell the onslaught of questions and comments of concern from them all.

Chris: “I’ll sort it out” Chris: “I’m not breaking up with her”

It clicked in his head then, why you were complaining about him being so far away, when you’d been working like this for the past 2 and a half hours perfectly fine.

“I told you to not think about that under any circumstance,” he whispers, watching as you hastily wipe your tears away. His mind is already working overtime, conjuring a risky plan. “I’m not- I wasn’t… I- did you see the article?” you murmur, trying to organise your thoughts.

“Mhm… and I’m about to do something about it,” he takes a deep breath in, closes up his production software and opens up YouTube, “You trust me, yeah?”

Your eyes widen as he begins to set up a live, and you grab his arm to stop him, “Chris you can’t. What will JYP say?” “I don’t give a damn about what he’ll say,” he scoffs, briefly checking what episode number of Chan’s Room he’s up to. It’s only Saturday, but you figure it doesn’t matter now. (A/N: Sit with it. I know Chan's Room is on hiatus shush, no need to remind me.)

“You better give a damn Christopher because your entire career is on the line right now,” you snap back, and a fizzle of fear simmers through you as Chris’ eyes flutter closed and his jaw clenches. “Do you… trust me…?” he asks again, opening his eyes to stare at you, unblinking. You gulp and slowly nod. “Pull up ‘Insomnia’ for me then babe.”

You have such a bad feeling about this.

You’re sitting in complete silence, trying to read the spam of comments on the side of his screen as Chris chats away happily, using his phone to play song requests and make recommendations of his own. The article was only recently released, but you can’t be sure of where else the photos have been leaked.

You’re about 20 minutes in when you spot the first comment asking about the photos. Chris either doesn’t see it, or intentionally ignores it, and continues asking for more song requests. 30 minutes in and the entire chat is swamped with questions about the same topic. You.

So far, Chris hasn’t spared you a glance once, knowing full well that his fans would ask about who he was looking at. This time however, he turns towards you, asking you a silent question, having finally reached the point of no return, his whole reasoning for starting the live finally occurring. You gulp and quietly nod again, leaning back to grab a pillow from the couch and tuck it protectively in front of you. Chris glances briefly back to the comments, searching for one he can work with.

“Ah! Where am I?” he pipes, looking around the room as though trying to figure that out himself, “I am… on a brief vacation…” he pauses to read the comments again, engaging with the audience professionally.

“No no, not in a hotel- I mean… um…” he sighs and rubs his face, and suddenly you don’t know how you feel about how easy it is for him to act, “I’m… um… I’m actually at my girlfriend’s house?” he grins sheepishly, a squeaky laugh escaping. The chat explodes with a new wave of comments.

“Yeah so you all saw the photos right? I was um… a little sad to see them, because Stays have always been… you know, respectful. But yeah, I am dating her.” If the comments were projected in actual voices, your head would have combusted. There are so many, and majority of them are in capitals, and you’re struggling to comprehend even only a single one.

Chris, used to this, reads one out loud for the benefit of his viewers. “Is she with me? Yeah, well yeah, I am um… in her house,” he laughs, adjusting the computer a little on his lap, “You want to meet her? Ooh I don’t know, I think we’d have to ask her.”

He looks at you, his eyes wide, and you smile in encouragement, but internally you’re a panicked disaster. “Oh-kay, hang on guys,” Chris announces, sitting up so he can push his computer further away along the floor. When he returns to your side, you’re now visible in the screen, eyes paralysed with fear, half hiding behind a couch pillow.

Chris props his elbow up on the couch, resting his head on his hand, the other resting comfortably on your thigh, squeezing it in encouragement. You wave shyly at the camera, offer a small smile, and try to burrow yourself further into the pillow. “Jagi… it’s okay, you don’t have to read the comments, Stay just wants to meet you.”

You take a deep breath, briefly glance at Chris, who’s smiling comfortingly, and slowly lower the pillow. “Hi Stay. Do I need to tell them my name?” you inquisitively ask, and Chris shakes his head, “Only if you want to.”

You consider it, then decide not to, “Yeah. Hi. I am… Bang Chan’s girlfriend. I promise I’m looking after him, don’t worry.” Chris’ grin widens, and he reaches over to pull you into his arms. You wriggle to get comfortable, trying to think of what to say.

“Uh… like Chan said earlier, he is… at my house- how in the world do you do this every single week? I can’t think of anything to say,” you start, turning to look at Chris. He smiles and pecks your forehead, causing you to jerk back in surprise. “It takes a while to get the hang of it,” his eyes briefly flicker down to your lips, and you scramble out from his hold and onto the couch behind him.

“I think I need the comments to rebound off, but I also… don’t want to read them,” you stammer. Chris is grinning cheekily at the computer screen, and his hands reach up behind him, using the camera to locate you, and tugs your legs around his shoulders, so his head is now in between your knees.

“You see what I have to deal with Stay?” you chide, trying to extricate yourself from him, embarrassed at how intimate he’s being on live. “But I’ve never seen you this nervous before, it’s so cute,” he laughs. You grab the nearest couch cushion and whack him on the head with it, making him laugh even harder.

��Okay, okay. I’ll read the comments for you,” Chris gasps, crawling towards the computer to lay on his stomach. “How did we meet? Oi babe, do you wanna explain this?” he asks, twisting to look back at you slightly, his eyebrow raised.

“Oh um, I don’t know. You were at my café?” you shrug. “You make it sound so unromantic,” he grimaces, turning back to the computer screen. “Well it wasn’t really,” you frown, hopping off the couch to lie down beside him.

“Okay, I’ll tell them how we met then,” he grins, and you stare at him, wondering what kind of fabricated story he’s going to garble now. There’s no way he’s going to mention how he almost launched himself off a bridge and you stopped him. “She saw me outside her café and I looked a little lost, so she asked if I needed help and she was so respectful and nice, offered me a croissant and drink for the road, and I was down bad.”

You roll your eyes at him and place your chin in your hands to read some comments. Surprisingly, there were more positive comments than negative, although the negative ones still made your stomach churn. Perhaps that one edit was right, Stay’s wouldn’t care if the Skz-Members started dating, they’d just be happy the members were getting bitches at all.

For a while, the pair of you take turns rebounding stories of your relationship, switching positions to the couch, to the floor to standing up and stretching frequently. Chris occasionally transitions into Korean, catering for his target audience’s needs, but he still translates for you, chuckling about how he should speak it more often at home so you can learn some too.

You’re asked how well you know the Stray Kids members, and a whole bunch of other questions that you ignore. You do your best to ignore the negative comments too, but they’re starting to get to you a little, and at some point the negative comments definitely outweigh the positive.

Chris pauses in the middle of trying to explain the context for the photos taken today, his eyes caught on a particular comment. He pushes himself up and reaches for the computer, scrolling back through the chat to locate it. As soon as he finds it, his expression goes resolute, and a little gasp escapes your mouth.

Go kill yourself.

You know with your whole heart that it’s directed towards you, but it doesn’t bother you as much as it should. Instead, the phrase stirs memories in your mind, positive you’ve heard it before. And of course you have, in your mind, the first time you saw Chris. You turn to try and read his expression, but it’s gone blank, his eyes void of emotion. “Chan,” he doesn’t move at all, his eyes still locked on the comment, “Chris. Baby.”

You nudge him slightly, but it’s like his soul has completely left his body. He’s not even here anymore. “Jagi. Babe. Channie,” you wriggle closer to him and whisper in his ear, “Christopher.”

He inhales sharply and turns to you, eyes foggy with confusion. “Are you okay?” you quietly ask him, reaching over to rub his back comfortingly. “Are you? We can stop if you want,” he pushes himself up into a seated position and crawls over to lean back on the couch. You follow, snuggling up to him, a dawning realisation emerging from the depths of who knows where, “I’m fine.”

It should have been obvious. It should have been painfully obvious. That voice was him right. On that day. He had seen a comment just like this one in a live. And that’s what he was doing on that bridge. Chris falls silent for the rest of the live, and you try your best to talk your way through it, drawing the computer closer to you after a while so you don’t have to lean forward to read the comments.

You yawn and check the time via the clock on the wall. It’s almost 12am. You peek at Chris, trying to signify that he should probably end the live, but his eyes are drifting shut, and his breathing has grown heavy. “Yeah so… thank you Stays, for giving me the opportunity to meet you all.”

Chris’ head suddenly droops onto your shoulder, and you glance at him again, a small smile forming on your face, before you return to address the live.

“I hope… I hope you’ll all be supportive… of Chris and I… he means the world to me… and that might not mean much to you, because he definitely means the world to a lot of you as well,” you find yourself stroking the curls off his forehead, and in his semi-conscious state, he snuggles even closer, his lips forming words that are only just barely audible, “I love you.”

You turn back to the live, eyes wide in disbelief, wondering if he was loud enough for the live. Clearly he was, the chat has fallen apart again. You chuckle and kiss his head gently, “I love you too Chris.”

Later on, he wakes to a stiffness in his neck and back, his head still resting on your shoulder. He winces and sits up, eyeing your sleeping posture with your head resting up against the couch, his computer sitting in your lap.

“You should have woken me up…” he mumbles quietly, knowing full well that you could not hear a word, “I love you jagi… more than you know…” Chris sighs and shuffles over to you, sliding his laptop onto the floor. Carefully, he tucks a gentle hand around the back of your neck, supporting your head, the other in the crook of your knees. As quietly as he can, he hoists you up into his arms and steadily walks over to your bedroom.

He stumbles a bit as he tries to lay you down, and you stir slightly. Eventually, he manages to pull the covers over you, and he tucks you in neatly. You groan and mumble something incoherent, and he waits with bated breath, wondering if you’re going to wake up.

“I… could beat the shit out of you…” you murmur, and Chris allows himself a smile. He bends down and kisses you softly, his heart aching with all the words he wishes he could say, all the love he wishes he could give. “You absolutely could… and the insane thing is… I would let you…” he softly whispers, then leaves your side to turn off the lights around the apartment.

He scoops up your laptop and his, puts them both on charge in the office and then goes on the hunt for his phone. He finds it not too far away from where your laptops were abandoned, and as soon as he clicks the screen to check for notifications, his heart sinks into his stomach, settling uncomfortably there at the sight of the messages.

He chooses to open the group chat first, smiling slightly at their words of encouragement. They were watching the live earlier, and continuing to tease him even through messages, providing running commentary.

The latest messages, however, make him hate his career for a second. Only for a second.

Jeongin: “the managers are saying you need to come back” Jeongin: “now…” Jeongin: “I think they’ve booked a flight for you”

Chris sighs and opens up the message from one of his managers. Sure enough, there’s a passive-aggressive request for him to return to Korea, a flight ticket attached. He clicks it to check the time of departure, and seethes when he realises the flight is in 2 hours. Jeongin wasn’t kidding when he said ‘now’.

He takes a moment to compose himself, already trying to work through his argument in his head, and starts to gather his belongings, turning on the lights again. They’re strewn out everywhere; wallet on the bench, clothes folded on the couch, composing gear in the studio, paperwork in the office. He rubs his face vigorously in his hands as he tries to fit them all nicely into his suitcase and travel bags.

“Chris…?” you yawn, head peeking tiredly out of your room. His heart cracks as he looks up at your drowsy state, unsure about how he should tell you he had to leave. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry,” he sighs, standing up gingerly, his knees cracking, “try and go back to sleep, I’ll wake you up later.”

He gulps as you take in his gathered belongings, but your dazed expression doesn’t change. “You weren’t planning on leaving without saying goodbye were you?” you mumble, walking over with a stretch and hugging him with a squeeze. Chris’ breath catches in his throat, and he wraps his arms securely around you. If only he could freeze time.

“I’d never do that to you, I just didn’t mean to wake you,” he sighs, swaying the pair of you gently. “What time’s your flight?” you pull away from him with wide eyes, fully awake now. Chris’ jaw clenches, and he pulls out his phone to check the current time. “In one and a half hours.” “They couldn’t have given you more time?” you grimace, stepping away from him to pick up his possessions and start packing.

“Apparently not.” After a minute of watching your silent movements, he goes back to packing, heart simultaneously swelling and shattering. He knows you’re thrown off by his sudden departure, a few days earlier than scheduled. He can tell by the way you zone out frequently as you pass him his clothes. He can tell by the way you stare absently at his laptop. He can tell by your carefully controlled expression, displaying no sadness, but a forced strength.

Chris doesn’t have to take everything that belongs to him. He returns as often as he can, so by this point he has his own toiletries here, his own drawer of clothes, his favourite snacks and drinks in the kitchen. He just wishes he didn’t have to leave his favourite belonging. You.

After another 15 minutes, he’s fully packed and he’s sitting on the couch with you tucked safely in his arms, basking in your warmth, but a little terrified in the fragility of the silence. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” You nod, knowing ‘as soon’ could mean anything from two weeks to six months. “Don’t worry about anything okay? I promise… everything will be okay. JYP can’t do anything to my career, he needs me – and I’m going to use that as leverage.”

You nod again, mind on a completely different train of thought. “I’m not going to lose you, I swear. I’m never going to let you go.” He takes his words quite literally this time.

He almost missed his flight.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

-> PART 6　 -> Masterlist

A/N: Yay…? Milestone Event 5 Check…?

Feedback is always appreciated, negative and positive alike. I apologise for any editing errors, I’m forever learning.

Until next read… - Kaisowoo

#bang chan fluff #bang chan fanfic #bang chan angst #bang chan x reader #bang chan imagines #bang chan #christopher chan #christopher chan bang #stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfic #thiswasfunandpainfultowrite #stray kids x reader

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fruitcoops · 6 months

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If you wanted to write grumpy logan and finn/leo lovingly making fun of him until logan is no longer grumpy, you would do it so well and I would love it

Fic O'Ween Day 7: Pumpkin Spice, for the Cubs :) Kudos and thanks to @noots-fic-fests and @lumosinlove for fest details and characters!

“You’re so cute when you’re grumpy,” Leo hummed, nuzzling into the soft fluff of curls above Logan’s ear. A wordless grumble answered him and he smiled. “Like a kitten, getting all puffed up.”

“—fucking—taxes, mon dieu—”

Cranky French interspersed the muttered undercurrent. Leo wasn’t worried; Logan got loud and direct when he was angry. This was nothing more than the usual fussiness. “I made muffins.”

“—witchcraft fuckery—”

“With cranberries,” he coaxed.

Logan aggressively scribbled out a line on his notepad, but Leo felt him lean closer.

“You’ve been here for two hours, cher.”

He pressed a flat palm between Logan’s shoulders, rubbing gently over the tight muscle and warm skin beneath his shirt. It was one of Finn’s, he thought—a faded thing from the Strand in the pretty red that made his eyes pop. It might have been a gift from some point in their college years, but that was unlikely. Logan had always preferred petty theft from their closets to actually owning anything he liked.

Logan groaned under his breath and pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I’m going to commit felonies against the IRS.”

“Very American of you.”

“Get out of my apartment.”

“It was my apartment first,” Leo smiled into his temple, and sealed it with a kiss. “C’mon. Muffin time. You’re hangry.”

“It’s not my fault you can’t do your own taxes.”

“I can. It’s just that I have a boyfriend who offers to do them for me.”

Logan snorted. “Do you?”

“Mhmm.” He wrapped his arms around Logan from behind, bending slightly. “He’s real smart, too. Capable. Knows how to do math.”

“What a dreamboat,” Logan deadpanned.

“Yeah, you got it.” He was still tense in Leo’s hold, but it softened when Leo pulled his hat off and kissed the top of his head. “I have a thing for nerds.”

“Boo. Go away, I need to finish this.”

“You’re sure you don’t want a muffin? They’re still warm.”

“Not hungry.”

Liar, liar. “Alright. More for me, then.” He nipped the shell of Logan’s ear. “I’ll tell Harzy he’s got free reign.”

“Fine, whatever.”

Leo rolled his eyes and hoped Logan felt it. “Taxes aren’t due until April, baby.”

Logan’s pen gave a prompt clack. “Ouais, and if I put it off until then, you won’t see me for four days. Let me drown in my spreadsheets, please.”

“Whatever makes you happy.”

Logan grumbled something like never makes me happy, but if he wanted to continue making himself miserable, Leo couldn’t really stop him. He had already offered muffins; what more could he do?

He had only partially been telling the truth, anyway. One batch of the muffins was done. It was just that he tended to get excited when fall hit, and ravenous when hockey season started, and every recipe spontaneously doubled in his hands like a cornucopian miracle. Some people kept special daylight lamps around. Leo had a five-pound bag of Craisins and a free afternoon to go absolutely ham with the last bit of sunlight energy he could throttle from October. They all had their own methods of dealing with it.

He only burnt his fingertips a little while prying a muffin from the tin and popping it into his mouth in one bite, and considered that a win.

An hour passed without much change. Leo measured, Logan worked. Leo mixed, Logan groused. Leo doled out batter to (perfectly-lined) muffin tins, Logan scribbled away at his notepad and beat Google Calendar into submission. Finally, as the third tray went in, Leo watched him stand with a groan worthy of an octogenarian and wander stiffly down their short hallway. He smiled to himself and set the oven timer. The work would be done soon enough. If he popped a show on and got comfortable on the couch, he might even be able to tempt Logan away from his numbers into a pre-dinner snuggle.

Whistling echoed from the hall outside, followed by the jingle of keys. Finn was already kicking his shoes off when the door opened, clicking his tongue to the rhythm of whatever played in his earbuds. His face brightened when he saw Leo. “Sup, Butter?”

“Heads up.” A muffin sailed through the air and Finn caught it, barely. “Tremzy’s cheating on me.”

“Wh—” Finn gave a hard blink and glanced over his shoulder. “Is this—I’m going to walk out and come back in again. Wrong apartment. Sorry, cheating? Logan Tremblay? Are we talking about the same person? If you’re talking about me, I’ve made sure that joke is overdone.”

“Her name is Microsoft Excel, and she’s got to be stopped.”

“Oh.” Finn’s bafflement became a regretful nod as he joined Leo by the sink. “His first love. I see the problem.”

“He turned down muffins.”

“Damn, this guy sounds lame. Need a new boyfriend?”

Leo kissed his sideways grin and flipped the water on. “Not currently looking to fill that position, but I’ll keep you at the top of my list.”

Finn’s arms folded around his waist and gave a gentle squish. “You should let me do that, babe.”

“Just rinsing.”

“Hmm.” He felt a kiss through his shirt. “Been cooking all day?”

“Mostly. Reg called this morning and I’m going out with Bliz and Cole at five.”

“What, I’m not invited?” Finn asked with false offense.

“Goalies only,” Leo said with even falser sympathy.

“Reyes isn’t a goalie.”

“Well, we like him better.”

Finn’s indignant noise was stifled by a mouthful of muffin and Leo laughed, jumping at the light pinch to his hip where his shirt rode up. He let Finn shoo him away from the sink with a dishtowel and waited by the counter instead to admire the way he shoved his sweater sleeves up to his elbows.

The bathroom door opened and Leo watched Logan make his way back to the table, all grimaces and stretches, with a final jaw-cracking yawn as he fell into his chair again. The neckline of his shirt was damp, like he had washed his face. He took no notice of the sneakers by the door or Finn at the sink.

“Hey, Lo,” Leo called. “Gotcha something.”

“An accountant?”

Like you’d let anyone else handle this. “A treat.”

“Thought you made muffins.”

Leo caught Finn’s smile out of the corner of his eye and shut the faucet off, passing him the towel. “Nope, different treat.”

“What is it?”

“Guess.”

“Uh…” Logan trailed off, tapping his pen against the notepad. “I don’t know, what?”

“C’mon, humor me.”

“Give me a hint.”

Leo bit his lip against a smile and hooked his finger in Finn’s waistband, guiding him away from the sink. “Pumpkin spice.”

Finn had to turn his face into his shoulder to muffle a snort. Leo pressed three fingers over Finn’s lips, not that it would do much. Ahead of them, Logan’s shoulders relaxed. “You got me coffee? That’s nice of you.”

“Try again.”

“What—uh, bread. Pumpkin bread.”

“Sweeter.”

“Cake?”

“Sweeter.”

“…doughnuts?”

“You like it more than doughnuts.”

“Is it…like, Halloween candy, or something?” Logan sat back from the table and lifted his arms to adjust his hat; Leo caught Finn around the waist and hefted him off his feet, then plopped him with great ceremony into Logan’s waiting lap.

“Oh, hi there,” Finn laughed.

“Coucou.” Logan’s eyes crinkled with the force of his smile and he ducked his laughter into Finn’s neck. “Pumpkin spice, eh?”

“Apparently.” Finn shuffled into a more upright position and slung his arm across Logan’s shoulders, toying lightly with his mussed curls. “A little birdie told me you’ve been up to no good. Taxes, scowling, refusal of muffins.”

Logan’s cheeks darkened with a blush. He cast Leo a guilty look. “Sorry.”

“There’s a heavy punishment for neglecting baked goods,” Finn informed him. “We have to take you into custard-y.”

“Get off me.”

“And you have to pay a fine of a hundred kisses before five o’clock.”

Logan’s eyebrows rose with interest—his loose hold around Finn’s waist tightened. “Stay on me. Quoi?”

“This is serious business, Mr. Tremblay.”

“Who gets this payment?”

“Well, it’s a half-and-half deal.” Leo didn’t know how Finn kept his face so solemn. “Half to the lawyer—me, obviously—and half to the baker who was so cruelly slighted in this afternoon’s incident.”

“Do I have to pony up all at once, or can I make…” Logan nudged up against Finn’s cheek, a dimple just barely forming. “…a down payment?”

“I’m sure something can be arranged.”

“Hmm.” Their kiss was soft enough to make Leo’s breath stutter in his chest—just a whisper over Finn’s bottom lip that had him chasing more. Logan bumped their noses together. “Spicy.”

Finn all but melted into his chest. “You know it.”

Jade eyes darted over and fixed Leo in place. Logan cast a quick up-and-down look over him, then propped his chin on Finn’s shoulder and gave a small, close-lipped smile. “That baker better get over here so I can give him a piece of my mind.”

The countertop was oven-warm when Leo leaned back. “How much are we giving to charity?”

Logan blinked. “Seventeen percent.”

“What’s seventeen percent of fifty?”

“Eight and a half.”

Leo stepped forward and braced his hands on the back of the chair, bracketing Logan’s head. “Tip your local bakeries, Tremblay. You owe me fifty-eight and a half kisses.”

Confusion blossomed into the kind of smile Leo lived for. “Let’s call it an even twenty percent. I’m feeling generous.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

#leo knut #logan tremblay #finn ohara #cubs #oknutzy #coast to coast #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #fluff #pumpkin spice #fic o’ween 2023

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solarisstyles · 6 months

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MS.HONEY: MS.HONEY'S BIRTHDAY

Pairing: Harry Styles x F!Reader Word Count: 2.3k+ Warnings: tooth rotting fluff!, kissing, relationship developments Summary: It takes a village to raise a special needs child. Gemma's son is growing up and starting kindergarten in the fall. Uncle Harry is struggling with not being able to spend all day, everyday, with his nephew who he's grown quite attached to. When he accompanies Gemma and Arlo on his first day of school, he meets Ms.Honey. Harry decides Kindergarten might not be so bad after all. A/N: For the sake of the story, Gemma and Harry live in the states. I know more about the school system in America than the UK so it just made sense! This story is not meant to be a 100% depiction of what a family of this dynamic is like. Harry and Gemma Styles are very real people and are only being used for fictional purposes!

*please like and reblog to help your local fic writers*

The weather was truly in your favor today. A soft breeze, bright blue sky, the birds were happily chirping and flying back and forth between the trees and your bird feeders. It was what you would describe as your idea of a perfect day. Laid out in your hammock, you had your eyes closed as you listened to the songs the birds would sing for you, and enjoyed the cool breeze against your face. The sun was starting to set and the air had that summer-like chill to it when you decided to head inside.

Grabbing a microwavable dinner from your freezer, you popped it into the microwave to cook. While the microwave worked its magic, you grabbed your phone to see what calls or texts you’ve missed while outside today. You weren’t shocked to see a missed call from Harry along with several texts.

Harry: When were you going to tell me your birthday was next week?

Harry: If you think we aren’t doing anything to celebrate you’re crazy!

Harry: Woman, call me back so I can make birthday plans for you!!!!

You could imagine how flustered he must have been right now waiting for you to reply to him. The teasing part of you wanted to make him wait a little longer but the soft side of you that Harry occupied had you calling him back without a second thought. As if he was looking at his phone, just waiting for it to ring, he answered on the second ring.

“About damn time!” He greeted you.

It made you laugh, shaking your head fondly, “Sorry, I was laying in my hammock all afternoon and I didn’t have my phone with me.”

Harry took a moment to envision you laid out and enjoying the beautiful weather today. He wished more than anything he was there to enjoy it with you. “Fine, you’re forgiven. But next time I won’t be so nice!” he threatened.

You knew he wasn’t being serious though. You could tell by the goofy voice he put on when he said it. “So who snitched about my birthday?” you asked, curious.

“We, technically the school, but Gemma called me and told me. So let’s blame Gemma.”

“That darn Gemma.” you decided to play along.

“Right? An absolute menace to our society. She must be stopped!”

“Well you’re her brother…so wouldn't that make you just as much of a menace?”

“Do you think I’m a menace?”

“Yes.”

“WELL I NEVER.” He exclaimed, making you laugh once more. He always knew how to tickle your funny bone.

“I’m only half joking.” you promised, grabbing your food out of the microwave and stirring it up.

“Well Ms.Jokester, what do you want to do for your birthday?” He asked, making himself comfortable on his own couch while he talked to you.

“Well considering I’ll be working, nothing really.” sitting down at your dining room table, and putting him on speaker phone so she could sit comfortably and eat.

“You’re working on your birthday? That’s lame! What about next weekend then? We could do something.”

It was endearing how much he wanted to spend your birthday together, but you couldn’t ignore the knot of guilt in your stomach thinking about it. “Harry, I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

“I know you want to wait till after Arlo’s graduation to date and I respect that. We can hang out as friends though, right? Is that allowed?”

Thinking over his words, you felt the knot loosen in your stomach. “I guess you’re right.” you said, pushing your food around the plastic container. “I just don’t want either of us to get in trouble.”

“I know Honey. I’m sorry that it has to be like this right now. I still want to show you how special you are and celebrate your birthday. Even if that means we have to sit on opposite sides of the room to do it.”

Smiling at your food, you couldn’t help but blush, “well that’s really sweet of you.” taking a deep breath, you breathed out, “Fine, I’ll bite and let you celebrate my birthday with me.”

“A splendid choice!” Harry exclaimed. “What would the birthday girl like to do?”

You pondered the idea for a moment. What you really wanted to do might be too boring for his taste. You couldn’t think of anything else though. “Honestly, I want to stay in. How about we get sushi, stay at mine and spend the evening watching a movie?”

Harry hummed, “If that’s what the birthday girl wants, it’s what the birthday girl gets.”

“Really? You don’t think that’s too boring?” you asked, feeling uncertain.

“Honey…” Harry softly said, “Listen, if it’s with you then I’m going to have a great time. If that’s what you want to do then I’ll do it. And if you must know, that’s my ideal type of evening. So, I’d be more than thrilled to do it with you. I promise.”

You smiled at the phone, “Thanks Harryy. You’re the best.”

“You only deserve the best. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay? Enjoy the rest of your relaxing evening.”

“You too.”

- - - - - - - - -

The day of your birthday was a total blurr. Even though you were working, the day flew by with flying colors. Your students brought in small hand made gifts for you that just melted your heart. You promised all of them that their work would be proudly displayed at your home to always remember them by.

While the kids were at lunch, you had a special delivery again from Nancy. She came to your classroom with an arm full of flowers and a box of chocolate covered strawberries. “Mr.Honey has done it again.” Nancy said in a teasing tone.

You giggled, taking the gifts from her, “He’s too good to me.” you told her.

“You’re dating right?” Nancy asked.

Setting the case down on your desk along with the box of strawberries, you sighed softly, admiring the flowers. “No, I told him we couldn’t date till Arlo graduated.”

“What?! Why?!” Nancy exclaimed, looking at you with a dumbfounded expression.

You returned the look with a confused one, “I’m not allowed to date the family of the students in my class.”

Nancy brought her palm to her face and shook her head, “Oh, Honey that’s only for parents. You won’t get in trouble if you date him.” laughing at the shocked look on your face.

“Well then, he’ll be very happy to know that.” you said, giving a shocked giggled back to her.

“Happy birthday to you.” she teasingly sang to you with a wink, walking out of the room.

You couldn’t wait to surprise Harry on Saturday with this new found information.

- - - - - - - - -

When Saturday arrived, you were up early and stress cleaning, even the parts of your home that you knew Harry wouldn’t see or care about. It had to be perfect. Nothing could go wrong. By the time midafternoon rolled around, you were collapsed on the couch, sweaty from all the cleaning you’d done. Your phone vibrated on the coffee table next to you, making you groan as you reached for it and swiped to answer the call. “Hello?” you breathed out.

Harry chuckled through the phone, “You sound like you ran a marathon.”

“I basically did. I’ve been cleaning all day.”

“Perfect, I’m gonna mess it all up now.” he teased.

“I’ll have to hurt you.” you laughed softly.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time babe.” making your heart skip a beat. “I’m getting the sushi now and going to grab a few more snacks from the store. I should be heading your way soon.”

“Good, I’m starving.” you groaned. “I’ll see you in a little bit. Drive safe.”

“Will do Honey.”

After you hung up, you had to force yourself to get off the couch and go shower. As much as you hated it at first, the hot water was welcoming to your aching back. You were super glad at this point that you decided to spend the night in. When you got out of the shower, the cool air made you feel more awake and refreshed.

Picking out your cutest pair of pajamas, you figured you might as well stay comfy if you were gonna spend the evening watching movies. Throwing your hair into a messy bun, you gathered all the fluffy pillows off your bed and brought them to the living room.

You arranged them on the floor so the two of you could comfortably sit together. Moving the coffee table to the side, you even grabbed a few fluffy blankets to lay out and use if you wanted to.

“Ooo wine!” you hummed to yourself as the idea popped in your head. Going to the fridge to get the bottle out, you were interrupted by a knock on your door. Setting the bottle on the counter, you jogged over to the door and opened it to see Harry’s bright smile and sparkling eyes. “Happy birthday!” he cheered, walking in as you made room for him through the doorway.

A soft giggle could be heard from you as you watched him trapease his way to the living room, dumping the bags on the makeshift blanket pallet you made just moments ago. Turning to see you’d followed him, he wrapped you in a hug, picking you up and spinning you around. You couldn’t help but squeal with laughter, tucking your face into his neck as you held onto him tightly.

Gently setting you down, he leaned his forehead to your own, looking into your eyes. “I’ve missed you.” he whispered.

“I’ve missed you too.” you told him, playing with his curls gently at the nape of his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, which he eagerly returned.

“How about we eat and start a movie? I’m starving.” rubbing his hands along your sides gently, rubbing just low enough to drive you crazy.

You nodded, “I like that idea.” you breathlessly said, “Let me go grab the wine from the kitchen.”

Letting you go reluctantly, you were quick to retrieve the bottle along with two wine glasses. “I hope you like red.”

“I love it.” he assured, setting out your sushi in front of you while you poured both of you a glass.

“What movie did you pick to watch first?” he asked, accepting the glass when you handed it to him.

“Rose Red.” you proudly said, taking a sip of your wine.

Harry hummed in approval, “Stephen King. Excellent choice.”

It was indeed an excellent choice. By half way through the movie, Harry and you were cuddled together, bellies full of good food and beginning to feel a little tipsy from the wine.

You quickly discovered with Harry that he loved to talk during films. Which was perfect since you enjoyed it as well. While he would critique the film’s small details, you would make off handed comments about the characters and how stupid some of them were. Harry was amused when you would go on a random tirade about a stupid decision one of the character’s made. “For somebody who likes this movie you sure are yelling at it a lot.” Harry noted, giggling.

“I do like it! It’s just fun to yell at it too.”

“It’s cute.” Harry mumbled, pulling you closer into him.

Looking up at him, and him looking down at you, made you not want to wait any longer. “Harry…I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?” he asked, feeling a little nervous.

“Nancy brought me the flowers and strawberries as you know. Well she asked if we were dating. I said no and she asked me why like I was crazy.” You giggled, thinking back to her facial expression. “I told her I wasn’t allowed to date my students' family and she told me that was only for parents. I wouldn’t get in trouble if I dated you.”

A giant smile creeped onto Harry’s face as he processed what you just told him. “Seriously?” he asked.

“Seriously.” you repeated, rubbing your nose against his own.

Pressing his lips against your own, the kiss quickly turned heated. He laid you back gently onto the pillows, positioning his body to hover above your own. This kiss showed you both the feelings you were holding back. Desperate to express through a simple gesture. “Be my girlfriend.” Harry mumbled against your lips.

“What?” you couldn’t help but giggle and smile, making him smile too.

“Be my girlfriend,” he repeated “Please.”

Looking up into his eyes, you could see the immense amount of adoration they held for you. “Yes.” you whispered. It felt right. It had to be right. They always say when you know, you know. And you were so sure in this moment that you knew. Harry couldn’t help but feel the same way.

With goofy smiles on your faces, the both of you started to giggle, feeling giddy and high from life and the happiness you brought each other. “This is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

“And we haven’t even had dessert yet.” Harry said, suddenly sitting up and reaching for a bag.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you watched as he pulled out a tray of cupcakes, holding one up and putting a candle in it, lighting it with his lighter. He turned to you and began to sing Happy Birthday. You watched with a smile on your face, sitting up fully to be closer to him. Once he finished, he held the cupcake closer to you.

Closing your eyes, you made a wish then blew out the candle. “Thank you Harry. For everything.” you said, taking the cupcake. Pulling the candle out and sucking the icing off of it, you hummed happily.

He chuckled, grabbing his own cupcake to eat. “I’d do anything to see that sweet smile.”

If only he knew your wish was for him to make you smile for the rest of your life.

TAG LIST: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @justlemmeadoreyou @squirreljoe @end-of-the-earth @behindmygreyeyes @buckybarnessimpp

#ms.honey🐝#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #sunny writes

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sassy-ahsoka-tano · 2 years

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My Personal Bodyguard

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: No

Prompt: You're a server at the International Hotel when Elvis arrives as the big entertainment act. While serving his manager, you notice something fishy going on. Can you change things for Elvis? Or will you run out of time?

TW: Swearing (a ton lmao), mention of drugs + violence

Rating: Pg-13 || Word Count: 5793

A/N: Fix-it fic #1 is complete. this was therapeutic for me to have the reader absolutely wreck the colonel lol

🦋 mila

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

“Bet you didn’t think we’d be this busy when you took this job did you?” Nathan, your coworker asks, and you shake your head with a breathless laugh.

“Absolutely not,” you reply. “I’ve worked at hotel restaurants my whole life, and I figured this would just be like everything else, but I guess not. People really go nuts over that Elvis guy, don’t they.”

“I guess so, yeah,” Nathan replies. “My sister won’t shut up about him, and I’m pretty sure my mother would divorce my entire family if Elvis asked her to.”

You’ve taken a job at the new International Hotel, which just opened about a week ago in Las Vegas. It’s one of those old sorts of hotels, with a casino and a stage for shows to entertain the guests. Or to keep them inside the building longer, whichever happens to come first. Anyway, you and Nathan have both been in charge of setting the tables for the first show this evening. The famous Elvis Presley is going to perform for the first time, and as far as you understand, he’ll be performing twice a night every night for the next six weeks.

You’ve heard his songs on the radio, of course, and you like them. But you don’t really know anything about him. You’re busy and don’t have a lot of time to freak out over men ten years your senior. Anyway you’re just a server at the hotel. It’s not like you have any business interacting with Elvis anyway.

“We’d better pick it up,” Nathan says, unfolding the last tablecloth and throwing it across the bare table toward you. You catch it, helping him fluff it out to drop onto the table. “We only have about five minutes to finish this before the King of rock’n’roll will be here to warm up. Can you grab some more silverware, I think we’re short a few.”

You nod, jogging over to the cart parked by the side of the stage. You dig around for a few seconds, not finding anything. Hearing a familiar voice in the distance, you hop up onto the stage and sneak into the back to find your manager. Wading through a sea of people running here and there, you finally see her and tap her shoulder.

“Hey, Katie, we can’t find the-”

Your voice stops abruptly when you see him. Elvis Presley in the flesh. He’s strutting in your direction in the most outlandishly beautiful costume you’ve ever seen. It’s a white jumpsuit, half unfastened to show off his chest, with a popped collar and studs all around. Your eyes can’t help but fall to his open chest before they flick back up to his face. He’s incredibly handsome, so much so that you actually feel your mouth pop open. His hair is incredibly dark and long, laying softly on his forehead. Everything about him screams sex, and you start to maybe understand why everyone is obsessed with him.

You and Katie step out of the way as he and his posse pass, and you feel totally worthless. Like a peasant in the street as the king passes along. Just when you think you’re in the clear, you accidentally look him straight in the eye. He winks and smiles at you without missing a beat, and you nervously smile back, dropping your eyes to the ground.

“Hello?”

You snap out of your daze with the literal snapping of Katie’s fingers in your face.

“We can’t find the…” she gestures for you to continue.

“Silverware. We’re short a few,” you respond. She nods, helping you find them.

By the time you’re running down the steps of the stage to place the silverware in the correct spots, people are starting to file in. Hundreds of them, all around, of all ages, genders, and social classes. You quickly make your exit toward the kitchen to alert them that everyone is starting to file in. You hide there for a while, chatting with the cooks and staff before your manager rounds all of the servers up to assign tables. She pulls you aside for a minute.

“Y/N, you have more experience than our entire waitstaff combined. You get the special task of serving the hotel owner, Mr. Kohn. And Mr. Presley’s manager, Colonel Tom Parker, will also be at your table. Prompt and attentive service, yes?”

“Yes, ma’am,” you respond with a smile. It isn’t a question, but you want to reassure her that everything will be fine.

You grab onto three menus from the stand next to you and take a deep breath before heading out into the crowd. In the fifteen or twenty minutes you’d spent getting ready in the kitchen, the entire place has packed in. It’s a full house without a doubt.

“Hi gentleman, good evening and welcome to the International Hotel, Mr. Kohn and Colonel Parker,” you say with a grin, passing the menus out and hoping you’ve remembered their names correctly. “Can I get you gentleman started with any beverages this evening?”

“Red wine. Whatever you have that’s the best,” Mr. Kohn responds.

“I’ll have the same,” Colonel Parker adds.

You have to sustain your grin even though it falters when you look at the tubby man sitting in front of you. Something about his energy is off. You can’t explain it, but you don’t trust him for some reason. His accent is impossible to place and the way he leans on his cane is too comfortable. Too in control, or something. Nevertheless, you push the thoughts away, reserving to do your job and nothing else.

As you start to walk back toward the kitchen, the band starts up an upbeat tune. Your head snaps to the side, and you figure you can stay for a quick moment to see what all the fuss is about. You step down and back into the shadows below your table. You’ve heard Elvis practicing a time or two in passing as you go from one wing of the hotel to the other, but you’ve never stopped to listen. You don’t have that kind of time.

The lights shine bluish purple on the stage, and you hide in the shadows, crossing your arms over your chest. He emerges in that glorious white outfit, waltzing onto the stage. He takes his guitar from a bandmate and approaches the microphone. The voice that comes out is even more amazing than on the radio. Your eyebrows actually shoot up in surprise at how lovely it is; low, smooth, and velvety. It’s like a blessing to your ears.

You can’t help but smile when he uses his hands to enthusiastically direct the backup singers behind him and his right leg bounces frantically up and down as he strums his guitar furiously. He’s incredibly engaging, just the perfect mixture of wild and charming. Enough to make the audience feel like they’re getting value for what they paid for.

“Ain’t nobody gonna be a better show than that!” you hear that familiar unplaceable accent from above you. “I’ll tell ya, if I was you, I would book for him for a hundred years.”

“Well, no better time than the present, but I hear Schilling has him doing a world tour,” Mr. Kohn responded.

“I think that Mr. Presley could be persuaded to make the international his home, provided he was paid pretty well.”

“What did you have in mind?”

Elvis’ strong voice interrupts your eavesdropping, and you realize that you should get the mens’ drinks before they get upst. The last thing you need is to be fired from your job by the owner of the hotel. You run into the back kitchen and pop out the red wine, grabbing a few glasses as well. You shove everything onto a tray and, by the time you’re walking out of the kitchen toward the table, the band has started another song. One that you haven’t heard before.

“Your drinks, gentleman,” you say, noticing the sly movements both men take to cover up writing on the lace tablecloth. You set the drinks down and get out your notepad. “Can I get you any appetizers or food? Or would you like me to come back?”

“We’re fine for now, honey, thanks,” Mr. Kohn says roughly, shooing you away.

You smile tight-lipped and leave the table, but press yourself back into the shadows below. You’re hoping to overhear something, but with the music blaring it’s difficult. You’re dying of curiosity to know what they’re guarding so secretly.

“What are you going to pay me?” the Colonel asks with a laugh.

You walk up the stairs to the upper level with your tray to start loading empty dishes and cups onto it from the tables above. It isn’t your job, but you need to know. As you pass by your table, you shift the heavy tray to the other side of your body, making sure to use the momentum of the shift to glance down at the tablecloth. Luckily, just as you peer over their shoulders, Elvis’ performance heats up, dragging everyone’s attention to it. You watch as Elvis drops down to his knees on stage, belting out a beautiful note. You take the opportunity to glance down at the tablecloth. Although you can’t see very well, you manage to catch the words “5 million” and “International Hotel” before you have to sneak back to the kitchen.

Even as you put the dishes into the sink, something feels wrong to you. You lean over the sink taking a deep breath and trying to put things together.

5 million…international hotel…better show…book for a hundred years?

You don’t understand completely, but the whole conversation feels wrong. As you think for a moment, you reach up for the wine and trot back out to the table. You’d sworn to yourself not to do this, but you can’t stop yourself from meddling. On your way back to the table, you get momentarily distracted by Elvis’ lewd movements in stage, watching as he drops into a half-squat. He’s giving his absolute everything to the performance, and it’s paying off without a doubt. Something about the words of the song almost feel hollow to you, as if it’s speaking to something other than the performance itself.

You take a deep breath and approach the table with the wine bottle, watching as Mr. Kohn scribbles on a napkin with a hotel pen. Just as the Colonel’s grimy fat fingers reach for the napkin, you ‘accidentally’ nudge his elbow into a nearby glass of wine, spelling the red liquid everywhere. As it began to drip slowly off the sides of the table and seep into the white fabric, you throw a hand over your mouth.

“I am so sorry!” you yell, reaching into the pocket of your apron to grab napkins. You expertly swirl them around the one with the writing on it and then shove it into your pocket.

“That was completely my fault! I will absolutely rectify this situation,” you say, as a brief moment of panic settles in when you realize the man sitting in front of you can literally fire you at any second. To your surprise, he’s fairly calm.

“Not your fault, dear,” Mr. Kohn replies. “The Colonel needs to learn some etiquette, apparently.”

You smile, feeling heat flood into your face with embarrassment and fear. You quickly retreat back into the shadows, clutching at your chest.

“You do whatever you want, Colonel. As long as that boy stays on that stage,” Mr. Kohn says in a low tone.

You’re about to rush back into the safety of the kitchen, when you see large white figure coming toward you out of the corner of your eye. Elvis has left the stage and waded into the crowd and he’s…he’s kissing a bunch of the audience members? You watch from the shadows as the crowd grows around you, and you can’t help but widen your eyes as you watch his plump lips close passionately around a woman’s. He’s sweating in a way that makes everything he does that much more attractive. He smiles handsomely as he gets taken away by the crowd. You’re literally turning to go back to the kitchen when you feel a hand on your wrist. You whirl around in shock to see Elvis standing right in front of you.

“Come on, lil darlin, I need a favor from ya,” he shouts over the crowd.

Fans start pressing into you. Even though you murmur some no’s and try to pull away from him, his strong grip persists and drags you up onto the stage with him. You awkwardly clench your fingers, turning to stare like a deer in the headlights at the crowd before you.

“Sorry, I couldn’t make it up there, man,” Elvis says, gesturing to the upper seating sections.

He releases your wrist, and you bring it over to cover up a wine stain on your white employee t-shirt that you’ve just noticed.

“Now, I just wanna take a quick second here to say thank ya and acknowledge all the people behind the scenes that make this thing go round,” he says, smiling at you. Your breath hitches in your throat as you look at him for the first time. He’s incredibly handsome, so much so that it almost physically hurts to be near him.

“What’s your name, darlin?”

“Y/N,” you lean awkwardly in to say it over the microphone.

“And what do ya do here, Y/N?”

Hearing your name come out of his lips in that deep southern drawl makes your heart flutter.

“I’m a server,” you respond. “I serve tables.”

“A server, perfect. It’s the people like Y/N over ‘ere who keep things runnin round here, and they’re gonna make sure yall’s nights are as special as possible. So don’t worry bout nothin but enjoyin the show,” he says, winking at you.

He reaches out to grab your hand, pulling you closer to him. You allow it, but avoid eye contact with him and the crowd. The napkin feels like it’s burning a hole through your pocket, and you momentarily think about shoving it into his pocket. You’re close enough to him. So close, in fact, that you can smell the scent of his cologne and sweat mixing under the bright hot white stage lights. But with his jerky movements and everyone watching, it feels too dangerous to try.

“Well, Y/N, I know I can never really pay ya back, but I wanna do a lil song for ya. For all the lovely people up in this place who take care of us,” he continues and then begins to sing.

You recognize the song, and your stomach does flips as he sings it looking directly at you. He releases you to do a big finale for the crowd, but not before he grabs your face by the jaw, pressing a hot wet kiss straight to your lips. You freeze as the curtain begin the drop, not sure how to act. He releases you, laughs, and faces the crowd again to say his thanks before the golden curtains begin to drop and separate you from the eyes of the wild crowd.

You stand, still frozen, even when it’s just you and him. You think quickly about kneeling down to give him the napkin, but before you have a chance to do so, you remember the tablecloth. You need to get it before they dispose of it.

Before he can even say anything, you dash out the side door and back down the stairs toward the table. A few people wave to you, acting like they know you now that they’ve seen you onstage. You nervously smile back and can’t believe your luck when you get to the table and see it empty. They’d left but the tablecloth is still there. You quickly remove the dishes, placing them out of the way to yank the tablecloth off. You can barely read it in the dark and parts of it are stained a deep wine red, but some of the puzzle pieces start to come together as you read the scratched words.

…previous debts cancelled….line of credit…

Your eyes widen with the realization of what’s going on. They’re forcing him to stay there. To play there…until his dies probably. You run back to the kitchen with the tablecloth in tow. You spread out in the back corner behind a rack of drying dishes and pull the napkin from your pocket. Reading them together, you shake your head, feeling anger crash over you like a wave.

They’re forcing Elvis to stay at the International so his manager can pay for gambling debts. It’s pretty clear from the writing what’s going on, and it infuriates you. You fold the napkin carefully and stuff it back into your pocket before folding the tablecloth over your arms. You have to get back to Elvis before his manager does. You’re a second too late. When you return to the stage, you see Elvis tightly hugging his manager. You peer out from the shadows to watch as the Colonel begins to dig around in his pockets, clearly looking for something. His face screws up in frantic conern, and you clutch the napkin in your pocket with white knuckles.

“I, eh, I must go back to the table,” the Colonel says in a panicked tone. “I…I believe I have fohgotten something theh…”

He stumbles off through the side door, leaning heavily on his cane.

“Do ya need help, Colonel?” Elvis shouts after him, but the old man hurriedly waves him off.

Your eyebrow quirks knowingly. When Elvis turns back to start upstairs, you step out of the shadows.

“Mr. Presley, could I…talk to you for a minute?” you ask in a timid voice.

“Sure thing,” he says, squinting to see you in the shadows. “Ah, you’re that lil server I pulled up on stage ain’t ya? Listen, I didn’t mean to embarrass ya none or anythin like that. If you want an autograph, I can-”

“No, thank you,” you reply shaking your head. “I mean…it’s not that I don’t want an autograph, that’s just not why I wanted to talk to you. I actually, well…”

“What’s wrong, honey? Y’aright?” he asks, concern crossing over his features as he steps closer. Your yes flutter for a moment as you breathe in his utterly manly smell.

“Yes…I’m just not sure that you’ll be,” you say, pulling out the napkin from your pocket to hand it to him. “I was Colonel Parker, your manager’s, server tonight. And well…I found this.”

You watch as his face contorts while he reads the scribbled writing and tries to understand its meaning. His expression cycles through several different emotions and finally settles on a look with furrowed eyebrows. You feel guilty, being attracted to him in that moment considering what he’s probably going through. But you can’t help it. Raw sexuality oozes from every inch of his body.

“There’s also this,” you suddenly speak, remembering the tablecloth.

You unfold it to show it to him. He runs a hand over his face and turns to see the writing on the tablecloth. He stands, motionless, before slowly dropping into a crouched position. The corner of his mouth turns up in to a wicked smile. He laughs, deep and throaty, before nodding and clenching his jaw.

“Mm…mhm,” he hums to himself. “Well, thank ya for bringin this to my attention, darlin.”

He glances up at you with pained eyes.

“Goddamn bloodsucker…fuckin jackass,” he murmurs to himself, and you start to back away before you hear him sniff hard. You peer closer to his face to see him angrily pushing a few tears from his cheeks.

“Are you alright, Mr. Presley?”

He doesn’t respond, massaging his temples with his fingers. You hesitantly drop to your knees, placing a hand onto his back and gently rubbing circles on the white jumpsuit. He glances up at you, and you suddenly understand. Your mother is always going on about how it feels like you’re the only person in the world who matters when Elvis Presley looks at you. You’ve always thought she was full of it, but now that you’re here, everything makes sense.

“Everything’s gonna be alright, Mr. Presley,” you say softly.

“Just Elvis,” he says, reaching out to touch your face. “Please.”

He sniffs with a small nod and his blue eyes shine brightly even in the dim lights behind the stage. You feel your chest heaving, and you gulp. You shouldn’t allow a married man to touch you so tenderly, but you can’t stop yourself.

Suddenly, his lips are crashing onto yours, and his fingers are on either side of your face, pulling your lips taut against him. You don’t kiss him back at first, too shocked to move. But when his lips curl around yours again, you can’t help yourself. You give in. After a minute or two, he pulls back abruptly and immediately apologizes.

“Damn, I’m sorry,” he says, avoiding your eyes. You shake your head and gulp.

“That’s alright,” you say quietly. “I just hate to see you suffer.”

“Thank you, Y/N, right?”

You nod with a tiny smile and he stands before holding out his hand to help you to your feet. Once you’re standing, he presses a chaste kiss to your palm.

“Thank you,” he repeats. “I’ll see ya round, baby.”

He turns to leave, and his face has an unplaceable emotion. He almost looks as if he’s just floating through the world. You stand there for a moment in the stark silence on stage by yourself, not knowing what to do with yourself

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

Yousaw Elvis every so often over the next few years. Sometimes he invited you up to his room after the shows, and most of the time you just talked and listened to music. Your presence seemed to relax him, although you couldn’t explain why. Your relationship was purely friendly, until one day you were listening to a particularly intimate song. It had been late at night, and you were both so lonely. It was an accident, you both knew it, and it cast a shadow over your relationship.

After that, Elvis began to tour around the U.S. You barely saw him. You sometimes wonder if your efforts to help him have made any difference because it sure doesn't seem like it. You still work in the kitchen, but you're manager now. You direct more than you serve tables. You're also a few years older and wiser. You never stick your nose into other people’s business again, and you wonder if you ever should have in the first place. You know he never thinks about you, even though you think about him almost every day. You’ve almost convinced yourself that he doesn’t even remember you.

Until that day.

You’re on serving duty today, with one of your servers out for personal reasons. As you walk to the front of the room by the stage to replace the drinks for your table, you glance up at Elvis on stage. He’s sweaty, as usual, but the way he moves around is off.

“I’d like to turn the house lights up, ladies and gentleman,” Elvis slurs onstage. “Cause now that you’ve seen me, I’d like to take a look at you. Oh ya beautiful, thank ya! Ohh, we got some high rollers in ‘ere tonight. Mr. International Hotel himself. And right next to ‘im is my so-called manager, Colonel Tom Parker. But I hear rumors that Colonel is an alien.”

The crowd laughs, but your heart sinks uneasily as you watch Elvis pick up a martini glass from the table closest, getting ready to down it. You move quickly, reaching up to lift it out of his fingers.

“Mr. Presley, please don’t do that” you hiss. You’ve never seen him act like this before. You’ve known about his addiction to drugs, but you’ve always thought he could handle it. Perhaps you don’t realize how dire his siutation is.

“Somebody call the FBI and tell ‘em that he has abducted me,” Elvis continues. “That he has locked me in this golden cage to keep me here forever with you, ladies and gentlemen.”

He starts to sing the lyrics of suspicious minds, the same lyrics you’d heard the first time you ever saw him perform. But the way he sways back and forth makes you incredibly nervous.

“I can’t get out…cause Colonel’s got some big debts, baby.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You don’t know whether it’s because of the awkward tension or the fact that he is finally confronting the Colonel after all this time. You stare up at him, clutching hard onto the martini glass.

“This is the last show I am ever playing here,” he says. “I’m gonna get on my jet plane, the Lisa Marie…it’s named after my, uh…”

That’s the last straw for you. You set the glass down and rush around to the side door of the stage, running up the stairs as he babbles on. You stop at the edge of the curtain, not sure whether to rush onto the stage or just watch.

“Hey, you’re that server right? The one who gave him the napkin?”

You whirl around to see Elvis’ producer, Jerry Schilling.

“Yeah, that’s me,” you reply.

A fat lumbering man waddles through the shadows up to you and Jerry.

“Stop the show,” the Colonel says. “Stop the show!”

“Fuck the international,” you hear Elvis say, and you glance back at him up on the stage.

“What the devil is happening here?” the Colonel hisses.

“That’s what he wants to know,” Jerry answers.

“Oh…security,” Elvis slurs, gesturing to where you’re all standing. Your palms begin to sweat. “Securityyyyy…securityyy blah blah blah…”

This is getting embarrassing, and the Colonel begins to walk toward Elvis.

“800 shows?” Elvis shouts as the curtains begin to descend onto the stage. “You don’t have a goddamn passport, you son of a bitch! You are fired! You are fired!”

The Colonel increases his speed, as much as he can. And you would laugh if the whole situation isn’t as bad as it is. You feel an odd sense of relief knowing that what you’ve done has helped.

“You’re fireddddd! Elvis screams into the microphone.

Silence descends on the entire space before Elvis repeats himself in a quiet voice. He drops the microphone and begins to walk off. One of the band members speaks up, pleading to go after Elvis, but you step out of the shadows.

“No, I will,” you say sharply.

As you pass the Colonel, you begin to see realization dawning on his face. You stare him down as you pass, refusing to look away. He knows what you’ve done, and you couldn’t be happier. You chase after Elvis and grasp onto the cape of his blue jumpsuit.

“Elvis, please wait! Let me help. What can I do?” you ask.

He turns with a massive smile on his face. His hands find their way to your cheeks, grasping at your face.

“Baby, you’ve helped me more than you realize,” he says. “You freed me. For the first time in so many goddamn years, I feel free as a bird.”

You smile, feeling your skin grow hot at his touch.

“I’m really glad to hear that. What will you do now?”

“Get the fuck outta here,” he replies, shaking his head.

His eyes search your face for a moment before he clicks his tongue.

“You wouldn’t wanna come with me, would ya? I know we barely know each other, but…I dunno somethin about ya makes me feel safer. And I owe ya for savin my ass, anyways. Maybe I can help pay ya or somethin. Find somethin for you to do.”

You are completely taken aback, and you don’t know what to say. One the one hand, you could really use the cash. And you can keep am eye on him, too. On the other hand, it would be a lot of changes all at once. Your apartment, your job, your family. You’d have to leave it all.

“Could you give me some time…just to think about it? I want to, god do I want to. I just don’t know if its practical.”

He nods, taking your fingers into his hands and pressing a kiss to them.

“Of course, baby. I tell ya what, I’m gonna leave tomorrow cause the sooner I’m outta this dump, the better,” he says. “If you wanna come, you meet me in the parkin garage tomorrow mornin.”

“I will.”

“Aright,” he says, smiling handsomely as he tucks some hair behind his ear. “I hope I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

You clutch onto the strap of your bag as the elevator bings. Taking a deep breath, you step out into the parking garage.

You’d spent the entire night making list after list of pros and cons. Your list of pros continued to grow and grow, while the con side became shorter and shorter. You’d been up until three in the morning before you finally decided to pack what you could and meet him in the morning.

“Where is he?” you ask as you step toward Jerry.

“Went up to get his daddy,” Jerry responds. “But hopefully we’ll be outta here in a minute or two. Hey, thanks for everything you’re doing for him.”

“He’s a very special person,” you reply. “I’m just trying to help.”

“We all appreciate it. After everything that happened with Priscilla, he needs another strong woman in his life. He’s lost all the other ones,” Jerry says quietly.

“Thanks, Jerry.”

Just as you move to sit down in the open car, you see Elvis stalking out of the elevator. He stops in stride, looking to the left.

“You bloodsucking old vampire. You bled me dry, and you still want more?”

You’re too far away to see who he’s talking to and what they’re saying, but you still rise from your seat.

“Don’t you Mr. Presley me, you toad.”

“If you are so determined to get out of our contract-”

“You’re goddamn right I want out!” Elvis is yelling.

“You still got your claws in me! You’ll still have me workin here like some goddamn slave in a salt mine! You phony no good piece uh trash! I should shoot you in your fat goddamn face!”

He turns to walk out, but then his eyes soften when they land on you. He turns back.

“Who are you?”

“I am you and you are me.”

Your feet start moving you forward before you can do anything to stop yourself.

“Cut the horseshit! Everythin I’ve ever known about ya’s been a lie!”

“EP, you good?” Jerry shouts. Elvis holds a hand up, shaking his head, to ward you off.

You ignore his warning sign and stop in your tracks when you see the Colonel walk toward the elevator. You take Elvis’ hands in yours and hold onto them tightly. He looks down at you with hopeless eyes, tears staining his cheeks. You reach up to wipe one way as the Colonel continues to talk.

“...away from all of this,” he’s saying. “But if you choose to leave, I for one would be very lonely. So would your father. But I think you may be lonely, too. For you see, my boy, the truth about the rock of eternity, it is forever just beyond our reach.”

The anger bubbles up inside of you, and your heart slams harshly against your chest.

You rip your hands away from Elvis and slam the door open button as the elevator doors start to close. The open and you slide your palms agains the doors to keep them open. The Colonel’s eyebrows are raised.

“Shut the fuck up,” you say harshly. “You don’t talk to him like that, you sick manipulative little bastard. I don’t know why you’re doing this, and frankly, I don’t give a damn. But you are not gonna ruin his life because you have some kinda gambling addiction, you lying piece of shit. So listen up and listen good, Humpty Dumpty. You can sue Mr. Presley if you want, but it won’t made a damn difference. With all the massive fraud and mismanagement that I’ve witnessed over the past four years, and Dr. What’s-His-Fuck shoving addictive medications up Mr. Presley’s veins? If you think any court in the United States won’t convict your fat ass, you got another thing coming. The Presleys will sue you for every single fucking penny you own, since they all belong to him anyway. Mr. Presley is leaving the Internatoinal Hotel for good. His contract is hereby terminated. Permanently.”

“Strong words from a hotel server,” he shoots back, and you quirk an eyebrow.

“Listen, asshole, I’m not afraid of you or whatever little pathetic power you hold. Mr. Presley is leaving, and there isn’t a damn thing you can do to stop him. Stay away from Elvis. If you even attempt to contact the family again, I will personally fly up here and stick that cane so far up your fucking ass, it will come out of your brain. Do you understand me?”

He says nothing, just stuffs his cigar between his fat lips with a wicked smile on his face. You remove your hand and turn around to leave, but you aren’t satisfied enough. As soon as you make eye contact with Elvis’ glassy eyes, the anger takes you over. You spin around with a flying fist and clock the Colonel straight in the face, between the eyes, as hard as you possibly can. He doubles over immediately, his hands flying onto his nose.

“Rot in hell, you fuckhead,” you spit sharply as the elevator doors close.

You turn to see all of the band members and hotel staff staring at you with wide eyes. You glance at Elvis and shrug.

“What? The bastard had it coming.”

“Maybe I should hire ya as my personal bodyguard,” Elvis says, laughing. “That was sexy as hell.”

You just smile and shrug.

“It was nothing. Let’s get going before he calls security or something.”

You climb into the car, sitting next to Elvis. He takes your hand, intertwining your fingers. You sit together as his thumb rubs circles into your skin.

“You came,” he says quietly. You squeeze his fingers.

“Of course I came,” you smile. “I couldn’t imagine my life without you. Plus, you offered me a job.”

Confusion flashes across his face.

“I would like to officially accept your offer for the personal bodyguard position. I can start immediately.”

He laughs, raising your fingers to his lips to kiss them. You settle into the car. Things are looking up.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

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astralisbelle · 11 months

Text

Silk For Armor 2 - An Offer He Cannot Refuse

Silk For Armor Masterlist tags: dancer!reader, singer!reader, reader has backstory, s3 not canon, diverges around TBOBF, half fix-it fic, half super self-indulgence, original locations and lore, eventual reveal of reader backstory, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut

chapter summary: The Mandalorian receives a strange request. He begins to suspect that there is more to this job and dancer than meets the eye. WARNINGS: attempted assault, attempted SA, coercion, major violence

note: WHEW It's been a while since I uploaded. I'm so excited to share this very long chapter with you all but PLEASE PLEASE mind the warnings. Thanks!!

“Kidnap me.”

The Mandalorian jerks himself back, startled by the bold request. The wording also throws him off, but that’s the least of his worries right now. “E...Excuse me?”

“Kidnap me!” she echoes. “Please. You have to take me away and take me away soon.” She clasps her hands in front of her chest, a burning desperation in her eyes.

“Why?”

“Kaslur. He’s… getting impatient.”

“Impatient for what?” She drags her gaze away, looking at the floor. Din’s eyes widen behind his visor. “What… is going to happen to you?”

She shakes her head. “I’m not entirely sure, but Kaslur has been begging me to quit dancing to go live with him. We’ve been playing this game for years, but the fuse is wearing thin.” As the realization sinks in for him, he thinks about how a girl like her has little options in a place like this. No one can help her. No one would, lest they wanted to incur the wrath of a crime lord, himself included.

“And if I do? He’d come after me. Might even chase you to the ends of the galaxy.”

The dancer pouts. “I… I-I’ll help you. Or, when you take me back home, I’ll make sure you’re properly compensated.”

“Home?” He thought someone like her was out of place here. “And where is home?”

She straightens her posture. “...I will tell you if you agree to this.”

“Now’s not the time to be keeping secrets.”

“If you knew my secrets, then you’d know why I keep them.”

He stares at her, scrutinizes every bit of her. How confusing this dancer is… She carries herself with a certain grace that only performers of her caliber are capable of. Her manner of speaking is eloquent. Yet, there is a certain spark in her eyes that wouldn’t be found on anyone else on this planet, not after its corruption takes hold. Beneath the humble clothes, behind the extensive makeup and costumes, there is someone who clearly needs his help.

“...I don’t know,” he says with a sigh. “I can’t make any guarantees.”

“In that case, I’ll sweeten the deal.” She smiles with confidence. “Let me help you on this job that Kaslur has for you.”

“And how would you help?” She doesn’t look like a fighter, but this girl is full of surprises.

“First of all, you’re new to this planet, aren’t you? Tebin Ramm operates a certain way and I can help you navigate through the channels. Second of all.” She glances around. “You need a place to stay the night where you can actually get some sleep, right? Unfortunately, most of these hotels charge by the hour if you understand my meaning.” He nods. “I have a flat above the theater. It’s… cozy. And since it’s my place, it’s technically protected.”

Din holds up his hand. “Won’t Kaslur object?”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” She reaches into a pocket and pulls out something small, popping off the cap and twisting the bottom. Before he asks what it is, she presses the red wax to her lips and applies it, bringing out the color of her skin. Then, she rubs some of it on her fingers. “Give me your arm.”

“W-Why?”

“You just walked into a working hotel. It’d be strange if you didn’t come out with marks.” She holds out her hand. “C’mon, it washes off easy with just some water and it’ll cover our tracks.” Mostly hers, he’s guessing. With a sigh, he gives her his arm. The dancer smudges the cosmetic onto his beskar then makes another smear on his chest. “And now…” She steps forward. “For the final touches.” She closes her eyes and plants a quick kiss on his chest armor, leaving a red mark. Din is about to stumble back, but she leans up on the tips of her toes and catches him, kissing the bottom of his visor.

“H-Hey!” He lifts a hand to wipe it off, but she shouts.

“Don’t! Not until you get to my place.”

Din groans, his hand finding it hard to leave all those marks in place. “I look ridiculous.”

“So does everyone else on this forsaken planet.” She glances back at a clock on the stand. “We’re almost out of time. You leave first. Tell no one I was here. When Kaslur’s men have ditched the front door, just enter the theater and I’ll take you to my place.” With that, she pulls the hood of her cloak over her head. “I’ll go now. You wait ten minutes, then go back to the theater.”

“...Fine.”

Din can’t remember the last time someone got that close to him and lived. The last — and only — person to touch his face was Grogu. Each time he thinks of his companion, his heart yearns. Though, he is thankful that Grogu does not have to see any of this planet. As he walks back to the theater, escorts and bystanders call out the marks, flushing red to his cheeks. This better work as an alibi.

He returns to the theater, finding that it has emptied itself of gangsters for the time being. Workers wipe down the tables and stage and when the last of them has gone, the dancer reappears. She takes him around the back and up the stairs into a loft that overlooks the entire red-light district. It’s a humble apartment, but it is kept tidy and clean. “Are you hungry?” she asks, putting her cloak on a coat rack.

“I am. But I cannot eat with you.”

“I know.” She points to a covered plate on the counter. “I warmed up some soup for you. I’m going to change, so I’ll close the door. Knock when it’s okay to come out?”

This girl… she has everything so perfectly planned out. From the meeting, to taking him in, right down to his food. Din stares at her for a moment. Who is this woman? And what is she doing in a shithole like this?

“...Sure,” he replies. He watches her go into the bedroom and waits a few seconds to confirm that she is gone before walking over to the covered plate. Sitting at the counter, he hesitates, but he takes off his helmet finally and sets it next to him. Steam touches his face from the noodle soup, its salty scent wetting his tongue. He isn’t polite about practically inhaling it, shoving large wads of noodle and beef into his mouth and swallowing the broth. Din eats fast, as usual. When he finishes and cleans his face, he puts his helmet back on and puts the dishes in the sink, noting its cleanliness as well. He wanders to the room and knocks.

“Come in!”

Come in? That throws him off. He opens the door and walks in. There is a single, rickety bed inside the room along with at least two different dressers. Various dancing costumes hang about with special accessories. Her room is a flourish of color that distracts him momentarily from the sight. She reaches for the top of one of her dressers to place a jewelry box back in place, her short robe showing off those shapely legs that he spotted earlier. When Din catches himself staring, he mentally berates himself and looks away. “How was dinner?” she asks, turning back around.

“D-Delicious. Thank you.”

She nods, her hands resting on her hips. “Alright, well, I know this is kind of a mess.” She laughs, looking around her room. “But, I made the bed for you. Talk to you tomorrow.” Just before she can leave, Din holds out his arm, blocking her from the door.

“I’m sleeping in here?”

“Yes, but don’t worry, I have a couch.” She tries to go; he stops her again, this time by holding her arm. The dancer tenses.

“You’re going through an awful lot of trouble for me.”

She lifts her chin. “Because I hope that you’ll do the same for me.” Kidnap me. “It’ll be dawn soon, Mandalorian. Please, get some rest. The sooner we find Kaslur’s man, the sooner we can both get off this awful planet.”

“I haven’t entirely agreed to take you.”

She grins. “Then I have a whole day to convince you.” She lifts her hand, thumb swiping some lipstick off his helmet. Shit, he forgot that was there. “Red’s a good color on you.” He lets her go immediately and she leaves the bedroom all to him. Now, Din is alone with her bed and her army of costumes surrounding him. As he removes his armor to clean off the makeup, he takes in the sight of every piece. Some outfits are… more revealing than others. He recognizes the one she wore earlier and then his eyes wander to some of the accessories: fans, feathers, all sorts of fun things. Din wonders how she uses them.

Just before he settles into bed, he has half a mind to look around. This woman is more than dancer, that much he can surmise, but to what extent? He’s curious, but he knows better than to violate her privacy, especially when she has been so considerate of his. When he settles into bed, her scent assaults him: clean and flowery. It oddly calms him and lulls him to sleep fast.

“So, who is the unlucky fellow?” she asks, sitting at the counter and eating a piece of bread. Din remains standing and slides the puck towards her, turning it on. Her brows lift in recognition of the Weequay. “Huh, that’s Mazarg Eq.”

“You know him?”

“Used to be an enforcer for Kaslur a few years back. Last I heard, Kaslur caught him in one of the spice dens, getting high on the boss’s supply. He’s not dead? That’s… lucky?”

“Kaslur mentioned something about him having a necklace.”

“A necklace?” She strokes her chin. “Don’t know anything about that. But, if I were Eq, I’d likely still be hooked on spice. Unfortunately. But I can’t get high at any of the dens that are supplied by Kaslur. So… I’d have to go to a rival’s supplied den. You know, for sanctuary.” Din slowly turns his head so the T of his visor faces her directly, as if asking how in the hell she ascertained that. The dancer shrugs. “That’s just the way things are around here.”

“...It would make sense. Also, if that’s true, then that’s the reason why Kaslur can’t send any of his own men. He’d start a turf war.” Din stands up, swiping the puck off the table and sliding it into his belt. “Would you know where these rival dens are?”

“I would.” She stands too, grabbing her cloak. “It’s not gonna be pretty.”

Once again, she is correct. Din’s throat tightens as she leads him through the district. Nearly everyone he sees is either stumbling, passed out, or expelling some body fluid in some way right in the street. No one seems to care. But, when he comes in, shiny expensive beskar on his chest, the junkies take notice. They lick their chapped lips, gaze with blood-shot eyes and fantasize about how much spice they can get with just a scrap of his armor.

Din is ready for someone to try to take it, but he hopes his imposing walk will hold them off.

He glances towards the dancer, her hood up as she stays close to him. “You being spotted here won’t be a problem, will it?” he asks.

“Technically, no. I’m not affiliated with anyone. That being said…” She scans the area. “I’d rather Kaslur not find out I was here.” She taps his shoulder. “In here.” He follows her into an alleyway with a single door, a faded neon sign blinking on and off above it. As soon as the door slides open, the foul stench of spice assaults his senses, even behind his helmet.

Smoke fills the den and makes it so hard to see that Din adjusts his visor to seek out heat instead. He sees red and orange shapes lounging on couches, taking long drags from pipes, and draping on other people. He prays that Eq is here, because he doesn’t want to comb through another one of these.

A Twi’lek man approaches them. “You gotta pay up before you take a seat.”

“We’re not here for spice,” she says. “We’re looking for Mazarg Eq.”

The Twi’lek flashes a look at the Mandalorian then back at the dancer. “And who is looking for him?”

“A friend,” she responds. She tilts her head up, giving the Twi’lek a glimpse of her face. “I know how this works.” She folds her hands together in front of her. “We need an address. How much?”

He grins. “...How about some of that beskar?”

Din leers at him. “Try again.”

She steps forward. “You deal with me, not the Mandalorian.”

“I don’t know what you can offer me, sweetheart.”

The dancer closes the gap between them, leaning in. “Tell you what.” She holds him close. “If you stop by…” She whispers, giggling and drawing shapes on his chest. The Twi’lek’s eyes bulge as she sweet talks him, ending her offer with a kiss on his cheek. She steps back with a polite smile. Without another moment to lose, the Twi’lek blurts out an address that Din commits to memory.

“Thanks… sweetheart.” She blows him a kiss. “Tomorrow right, remember.”

And with that, they leave. Once they’re out of the den, Din turns to her. “What did you offer that man?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“...You’re not seriously going to do it.”

She laughs. “We’ll be on a Razor Crest tomorrow night already in Hyperspace. C’mon, let’s go find our guy!”

One of the benefits of his helmet is being able to scope and scan any person of his choosing with discretion. Din sneaks in a few glances at the dancer as she walks with her hands behind her back. She hums, reminding him of the powerful vocals she displayed the other night. She is remarkably odd in a place like this. She is so… normal. Her demeanor, her manner of speaking doesn’t fit in with the rest of the people on Tebin Ramm.

Din wants to ask about her, but he isn’t curious enough to actually open his mouth. In fact, he knows it’s for the better. He’ll get her off this planet and drop her somewhere and that will be the end of that. Everyone that entered his late Razor Crest had their own stories — some he knew, some he didn’t, but most of the time, he didn’t care what they were. The dancer will simply be the girl that helped him get his ship.

Daylight does not last long on Tebin Ramm and the veil of space is nearly done creeping over their heads. Not that anyone can see any of the stars through the pollution. They wander further from the city’s center, finding crumbling buildings and tiny shacks for housing. The air is deathly still, but the stench of bodily fluids and trash wrinkle their noses. She pulls the collar of her cloak up to cover up her lower face.

“Stay close,” Din says, his hand hovering over his blaster, ready to draw.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” She walks closer, their shoulders brushing against each other. They close in on the address given to them, standing before a tall building with cracks along its walls and broken signage. “He must be squatting here.”

“C’mon.” This shouldn’t be hard. When he first began bounty hunting, Din felt pity for the easy targets. That changed when every target became easy. They entered and went up the stairs, passing by bodies (asleep or dead?) sprawled on the floors and against the walls. He feels her hand cling to his cape. Din doesn’t wait anymore and he draws his blaster as they creep towards the marked door. “Stay here,” he says to her at the end of the hall. She nods.

The Mandalorian takes a few hunkering footsteps towards the door. Before he knocks, he gives it a nudge to see if it’s open. It is. He inhales fast and kicks it open, brandishing his blaster. On the floor, a Weequay yelps in surprise and stares at the tall mass of silver beskar in front of him. He scrambles backwards until he hits the wall. “Mazarg Eq?”

“Wh-who’s askin’?” The Mandalorian says nothing. Instead, he pulls out the puck and clicks the button, showing Eq’s face. “Aw shit… who hired you?” he asks between hyperventilating breaths.

“None of your concern.”

“It was that fucking prick Kaslur, wasn’t it?” he asks, voice panicked. “Shit, sending a fucking Mandalorian after me.”

Din continues, voice cool and collected. “You’ve got a necklace. Or did you hock that for spice?”

Eq laughs, body trembling. “Oh, that’s what you’re after! Look, if I hand it over, will you leave me alone?”

Din’s pulled this trick before. “Where is it?” Eq wobbles as he crawls a few feet away to where Din sees a crowbar. He’s ready for Eq to swing it at him, but to his surprise, the Weequay uses it on the floor instead, prying open the floorboards. Inside a secret compartment are a few credit chits, a handful of spice bags, and a black box. Eq crawls back to the Mandalorian, presenting the box to him. “Take it. If it gets Kaslur off my back, just take it!”

He holsters the blaster, giving the Weequay a false sense of security. Din takes the box and opens it. His brows furrow at the contents. It doesn’t look like a necklace, it looks like a small, metal collar with a small crystal charm. Kaslur described it as having the finest jewels… was that a lie? He goes to the door-frame and beckons the dancer over. “Necklace.”

She takes the box and looks down, peering at it. “Really? This? But it’s so… simple…” Shrugging, she closes the box. “Get Eq. We’re almost done. You go to Kaslur, I go home and grab my things.”

“You think it’ll be that easy?”

“Been thinking about it the entire way.” She smiles and steps back. “Do your thing.” Once she is a safe enough distance away, Din looks back inside.

“So… is that it? You said you’d leave me alone, right?”

The Mandalorian stalks forward. “Never did.”

Din drags Eq’s unconscious body through the halls and down the stairs. Kaslur would give him more credits if he brought him in alive, and fuel isn’t any cheaper these days. The dancer carries the black box for him for now, but something in his gut tells him that there is more to that “necklace.” He can’t worry now.

Soon, he tells himself. Soon, a new Razor Crest. Soon, off this awful planet.

The dancer opens the door to the outside and freezes. She gasps, finding a crescent of mobsters surrounding the exit. Din keeps a calm head, already running his eyes over their blasters and conjuring strategies if they cannot talk their way out of this. But then he sees Kaslur there in the center, tall and wide. He claps slowly, an unfriendly grin on his face. “Well done, Mandalorian. Well done. Though, you can’t take all the credit for this job, can you?” His eyes gloss over to the dancer’s, an uneasy stillness within them. All Kaslur has to do is gesture with his head and two mobsters dart forward. One yanks the black box away from her while the other grabs her arm.

“Hey!”

“Stop!” says Din. “Don’t punish her. I’m the one that needed her help.”

“Punish? My precious doll?” The mobster drags her over to Kaslur. “She helped you. Which meant she helped me.” He turns to her, stroking her cheek. “And I know the perfect reward. Mando, hand over Eq.” The Mandalorian hesitates, eyes flicking towards her. She nods. He steps forward and shoves the Weequay forward who barely registers what is going on. Another two thugs hold him up by his arms while Kaslur opens the black box. “Don’t you love it?” he says, presenting it to her.

She bites her bottom lip. “It… is very lovely.”

“I know it’s simple. But I went through a lot of trouble to acquire this for you, darling. You want to see what it does?” She remains silent, eyes flashing to the Mandalorian. Kaslur takes the choker and walks up to the moaning, half-awake Eq and clips it around his neck. “Hm. It doesn’t look as great on him as it will on you, my dearest. But you see, this collar is made of kyber crystal.” Her eyes widen and her skin pales. Kyber? Din thinks. “And I have its sister right here.” Kaslur presents a small bracelet around his fat wrist. “And with a touch of a button… it can do this.” He presses it.

It happens in the matter of seconds. Eq’s head falls clean off and topples to the ground as the inside of the choker fills with a hazy white light. It too falls to the ground, having cleanly sliced the flesh it wrapped around. She lets out a horrified shriek and Din knows that he cannot let this go on a second longer. He brandishes his blaster but gets more than a few barrels pointing at him. As if that would stop him.

“I’m sorry, darling,” says Kaslur. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. But we could have prevented this.” He holds her head, not caring that she is the one having panicking breaths now. “I’m tired of waiting. You’re coming with me.” She shakes her head with a whimper that he shushes. “Don’t worry, love. I won’t press the button if you do as I say.”

“Not happening,” says Din behind gritted teeth. “Step away.”

Kaslur lifts his head. “Look around you, Mando. It’s five against one.”

“I like those odds.”

He laughs. “Of course you would, you fucking Mandalorian.” Kaslur stands up straight, his hand falling on her shoulder. “’Course if you did, then there’s no way you’re leaving here alive, much less on a Razor Crest. That was the deal, wasn’t it?” He snaps his fingers and a gangster brings him a comm device. With a few button clicks, it displays a hologram of a Razor Crest. “Walk away now and I transfer all ownership of this ship to you. My men will let you ride off into Hyperspace.”

Din freezes. The Razor Crest was the only reason he came to this planet in the first place. He needs it. It’s right there in front of him; the hard work is done already. But then his brown eyes flash back towards her.

She breaks the uncomfortable silence. “Just go, Mando,” she tells him. “Go. Take it.”

“I-I…”

“Go.” She forces a smile, tears welling in her eyes. “One of us should get off this awful planet.” And just like that, Din watches the tears streak down her cheek as she gives up her dream. His hand shakes as he lowers his blaster as the weight sits uncomfortably on his chest and shoulders. Someone walks over to grab the choker off the ground, placing it back in the box.

“I’ll get that nice and cleaned up for you,” says Kaslur. He presses a few buttons more before the hologram disappears. “Alright, she’s all yours. Congratulations.”

Din wants to punch him right in the teeth. He stands still as a statue as the mobsters move out, dragging along the dancer. She does not resist, she doesn’t even falter in that smile. One of us should get off this awful planet.

Most bounties leave a somewhat bitter taste in his mouth, but only one made him feel vile and wretched. Now, that number is two.

Din starts in the direction of where he can pick up the Razor Crest. Kaslur’s men greet him with ease and show it to him. They go over the details, but honestly, Din cannot concentrate on them. With every explanation, every demonstration, he sees her face. He sees her smile as the tears stain her cheeks. He hears the horrified scream she let out when they saw the collar.

And he imagines it on her neck. Always present, always a threat. He imagines a broken smile on her lips as she does everything Kaslur asks of her, too afraid to refuse.

The men leave him alone in the Razor Crest. He sits in the pilot’s seat and thanks to muscle memory is able to power it on and go through the motions. Good, he succeeded, he has a home for the time being. Yet, any thought of celebration is rebuked with disgust.

And her smile.

He knows what he has to do.

Never before had a choker had a more apt name. The dancer sits at the end of the fancy table in Kaslur’s dining room in his penthouse overlooking the city. Across from her, he tears at his food, getting juices stained on his chin and shirt. Her body trembles and she stares at her untouched plate. The thought of swallowing against the choker vanishes her appetite. “I’ve already sent for your things,” he tells her, startling her. “No more dancing for ungrateful twigs.”

She keeps her hands on her lap. “Am I… never to dance again?”

Kaslur laughs. “No, my dear. You will simply dance for me. And only for me.” His voice lowers to a certain register that makes her skin crawl. “And this time, darling, everything is going to come off.”

“E...Everything?”

Kaslur wipes his lips with a napkin. “Come, I’ll show you your room.”

With wobbling knees, she stands and follows him. Kaslur takes her hand and leads her through the large space of his penthouse, opening the door to an ornate bedroom. The windows are ceiling to floor and the bed is large with plush pillows and a canopy. He shoves her inside and closes the door.

Oh no.

“I’ve been dreaming about this day for years,” he starts. “The day I finally claim you… how should I do it? Should I make you dance for me? Or sing? How you seduced me every night with your voice, your body…” He creeps closer to her as she steps back. “I don’t know where you come from, my love, but I know a one-of-a-kind woman, especially on this shithole of a planet.”

She gulps. She feels the choker around her.

“Haha… I digress. So I was thinking, how do I want this night to go? Then, I realized… it doesn’t matter.” He laughs. “You’ll do every single one. Tomorrow, you’ll dance. The day after, you’ll sing. On day three, I want you crawling to me, offering your body.” Kaslur shoves her onto the bed. She tries leaving, but he rests a knee on her legs. “For every fucking year you made me wait for this, you’re gonna do everything I want, understand?”

“P-Please—”

Kaslur grabs the fabric of her dress and tears it off with a loud rip, making her scream. “And don’t give me that look! You’re gonna enjoy every second of it.” He seizes her breast, twisting the flesh and making her whimper in pain. “If you don’t, if you’re not enjoying it, there’ll be consequences.” He groans. “Fuck, your body is so beautiful.”

She shuts her eyes. She wills time to turn faster. How foolish she was to think that she could escape this place, escape him. More tears well up in the corner of her eyes, but she is afraid of crying. His hand curls around her neck as he tears away more of the fabric. She thought she heard the sound of a door sliding open, but Kaslur does nothing about it. He forces his hand between her legs and she is about to cry out.

Something knocks Kaslur to the side. In a flash of activity, she sees a blur of silver and sees Kaslur tumble to the floor. A blade of pure black light materializes and stabs right through Kaslur, choking him and expiring his life. The dancer sits up, her eyes taking in the sight of the Mandalorian sheathing his weapon and standing over him. He turns his visor towards her before quickly looking away from her state of undress. “I-I’m sorry. I wasn’t here in time.”

It takes her a second to process what has happened. When she realizes that she was rescued, that she didn’t have to endure what she braced herself for, she chokes out a sob. She lunges forward and hugs the Mandalorian despite her nakedness. He lifts his hands before looking around the room, finding nothing. With a sigh, he takes off his cape and wraps it around her shoulders. “We don’t have a lot of time. We have to go now. I’m sorry.”

“We...We’re going?”

“Yes.” He steps back, away from her. “I’m getting you off this planet.”

“I’m…” Elation fills her expression. “Wait.” She leans down and grabs the bracelet from Kaslur’s wrist. With bated breath, she clicks the other button and just prays in that split second she doesn’t die. Then the collar falls from her neck. The relief almost brings her to tears. With that, she takes the cape and holds it around her torso. Then, she gives one last look at Kaslur's corpse. With a rare scowl, she kicks his head. “Okay, let’s go.” She turns away, her expression softening.

“Do as I say,” he says. “This will be rough.”

“Okay.” She follows him. “Thank you, Mando. Thank you…!”

#the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian x you #work: silk for armor #tw assualt #tw sa mention #tw attempted sa #THIS TOOK SO LONG #IM SO SORRY LOL

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tinyhockey · 1 year

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be my fire in the cold - winter exchange 2k23

well this is something eh? i went into this hoping to get up the courage to write my first hockey fic and ended up writing about 9.3k words of christmas fluff. who'd have thought!

big thank you first and foremost to @antoineroussel for organizing this exchange! thanks to my beta readers @hockeytwinx @neuroweird and @thewonderzebra, and to @2manytabsopen @jostystyles and @teex for help with characterization.

and lastly, but most importantly: thank you to @lifeofpriya for giving me such wonderful inspiration and answering each and every one of my probably very annoying questions! from your magical winter exchange elf, i hope you enjoy! 💖

quick note that this is an OC fic and an AU. have fun reading!

“Santa, tell me if you're really there…”

Priya hummed to herself as she sent off another email, unconsciously nodding her head to the sound of Ariana Grande belting through her airpods. She’d had her Christmas playlist practically on loop over the past six days, as if determined to broadcast as much holiday spirit as possible directly into her ears. She didn’t think anyone could really blame her for that, though. There were only so many days out of the year where it was socially acceptable to blast Santa-themed music. It only made sense to make the most of them.

Besides, it had been a slow morning at the office. Priya had been hired as an intern (paid, thank-you-very-much) back in October, and she had quickly learned that there was no such thing as an average workday. Sometimes she found herself rushing around running errands for every person who passed her desk; thankfully, most of them were friendly, with a few exceptions she preferred not to dwell on. Other times, like today, she had to stop herself from browsing skincare websites or looking up last night’s baseball highlights. Thankfully, she’d found that her long hair typically hid her earbuds, meaning she could listen to audiobooks or k-pop albums to make the time go by faster. Unfortunately, they were sometimes too good at soundproofing.

“Don't make me fall in love again if he won't be here next year…”

“Priya!”

She jolted at the sudden call, eyes darting up, only to see her manager standing before her desk, a wry smile on his face. She quickly reached over to pause the music on her phone, tucking her hair behind her ears as she removed her airpods.

“Sorry, Dougie,” she smiled sheepishly. “I’m working, I swear.”

“Sure you are,” he teased, letting out a laugh.

“No, seriously! I just sent off some emails. I just figured, you know…” Priya shrugged.

“It’s fine,” Dougie shook his head fondly. “You’re fine. I’m sure you can get your work done while you listen to carols.”

“Maybe I’ll be better with some Christmas music,” Priya responded. “Almost everything is.”

Dougie’s smile grew. “I’m actually glad you said that.”

Priya was halfway to matching his expression, only to suddenly take notice of the bright red folder in his hands. She quirked an eyebrow upwards in suspicion. “Should I be worried?”

“Oh, yeah. Extremely.” After a second, he clarified, “I’m kidding.”

“I figured.” Priya nodded towards the folder. “What’s in there?”

“Oh, right! So.” He leaned forward across her desk, as if he were entrusting her with some great mission. “Every year, we have this big company holiday party towards the end of December. There’s always music, and it gets catered with all this awesome food. One year, they even had an open bar. Now that was a fun time.”

“It sounds like it,” Priya laughed, eyes still trained on the folder. “So is this an invitation, or…”

“Oh. No. Well, kind of,” he laughed. “See, the last couple years, it’s always been planned by the same two people. But one just retired, and one’s out on maternity leave. So…”

“You entrust it to the intern,” Priya finished, tutting in fake disapproval, though her smile was clear even as she shook her head.

“It won’t just be you. Not that I don’t think you could pull it off alone.” Dougie passed over the folder. “Tom and Linda left all the major stuff in there. Who to call if you have questions about the space, which caterers they usually hire, all that stuff.”

Priya flipped through the folder as Dougie spoke, running her finger down the pages. The photos of the ballroom showed a large but intimate space, with dim lighting and velvet curtains. It would be nice to hang some string lights over the windows, she thought. And they could set up some tables there, and maybe a photo booth if the budget allowed…

“Does that sound good?”

Priya glanced up from the folder, lips already curved into a smile. “Yeah, no, of course. Absolutely. It’ll be fun.”

“Great!” Dougie smiled back. There seemed to be something slightly more to it than just a happy sort of relief, but Priya couldn’t quite pin it down.

He took out his phone, firing off a few emails. “You have anything going on at 4:30 today?”

“Not that I know of,” Priya shrugged. “Why?”

“I’ll book off one of the smaller conference rooms for you guys, then. You can get started on the planning. Normally we have it on the Friday before Christmas, so that gives you about two weeks or so.” Dougie smiled as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. “I look forward to it.”

He had already taken a step away when a question popped into Priya’s mind. “Dougie!” she called. “Who else am I working with?”

“Didn’t I just tell you?” he chuckled. “One of the other interns, from tech support. You might know him.”

No. No, no, no, please, no, anyone but-

“You’ve met Nico, right?”

Damnit.

“Uh, yeah, I think. Once or twice.” Priya fidgeted with the corner of the folder, hoping she’d kept her face in a neutral enough expression.

“Cool. Glad you two know each other,” Dougie smiled, that same strange tinge to his grin as before. “You guys will be great together, I’m sure.”

She smiled tightly. “Can’t wait.”

Priya waited until Dougie’s footsteps sounded far enough away, letting out a groan as she dropped her head onto her desk. Of course. Of everyone in the entire company, it had to be Nico.

She hadn’t started off disliking him. In fact, she’d almost thought he was cute. Alright, fine, she’d thought he was incredibly cute. When she’d seen him at the intern orientation, she’d been the first to come up to him and try to introduce herself. Instead, all she’d found herself met with was a dark look and a curt reply. She’d tried sitting with him at lunch, asking him about himself, even bringing in coffee for him. Every time, the same sullen stare, the same short sentences. She’d won over almost everyone else in the office. Nico was her one exception.

Every so often, Priya still caught him staring at her. Across the cafeteria, in company meetings — she’d turn her head, and catch him just turning his away. She couldn’t figure out exactly what she’d done to irritate him so much. At this point, she wasn’t sure finding out would make the difference.

Sighing, Priya propped up the folder on her desk, studying its festive red color as she put her airpods back in. There wasn’t any going back on it now. She’d already agreed. Dougie was her manager, and she didn’t want to let him down. Maybe, she thought, starting her playlist back up, it would end up being fun. Maybe Nico wouldn’t glower at her too much, and the whole thing would go off without a hitch.

It’s Christmas, she thought, letting out a breath as she went to check her inbox. Miracles happen all the time.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

4:30 found Priya sitting in the conference room, alternating between looking through the window of the door and her phone clock. Once or twice she considered messaging Dougie, just to ensure she hadn’t misheard him on the meeting time. To be fair, she was sure tech support was always busy, and something might have come up. With Nico, however…

It took another ten minutes for the door to finally open. Priya glanced up from the red party folder on the table, watching as Nico walked in. He barely even seemed to notice her, eyes glued to his phone screen as he typed something.

Seizing the opportunity to take a quick breath, Priya forced herself to smile in his direction. “Hey.” Nico didn’t respond even as he sat down in one of the free chairs, crossing one leg over the other. His eyes remained trained on his phone, seeming to be reading something before going back to typing. To her surprise, she thought she could almost see the hint of a smile on his face.

Clearing her throat, Priya sat up in her chair, straightening her back. “So, um, looks like we’re working together, right?”

Nico was silent until he finished his typing, putting his phone face-up on the table. “Yes,” he responded, dark eyes seeming to study her — judge her, even. “Dougie gave you the folder.”

“Yeah. Yeah, um, he did.” She nodded, a tight smile returning to her face as she flipped it open. “I already called the venue owners, and we’re all set for the Friday night before Christmas. I didn’t want to do anything else before I asked you, but I did look up a few ideas, and I think-” Priya went to hand over some of the ideas she’d printed photos of, only to see Nico back on his phone, typing something. She frowned, voice trailing off into silence.

Nico finished typing, glancing up again. “You can keep talking. What ideas?” Priya took a breath, passing the papers across the table. “I looked up some holiday decorations, and I thought the Christmas tree made out of balloons was super cute. And then-”

“You can’t have a tree made out of balloons.”

Priya raised her eyebrows. “I’m sorry?”

“That’s silly. We could get a real tree for the same as it could cost for all of those balloons,” Nico rebutted, passing that page back across to her.

She frowned, looking back down at the photo. “I mean, maybe. But a lot of people are going to have trees at home, you know? And it’s easier to take down balloons than it is to get rid of a big tree. Plus, you’d get pine needles everywhere.”

Nico huffed out a sigh, shaking his head as he flipped through her other pages.

Priya felt her shoulders slump, softly biting down on her bottom lip. “Okay. Maybe it’s a little much for, like, just starting out.” She went back into the folder, taking out a blank sheet of notebook paper. “What about, like, a color scheme? Just so we have an idea in mind. I kind of like the traditional, like, red and green, but we could also try some sort of blue and white wintery colors. Or silver and gold, but that could look kind of dark in the ballroom, unless we got some lights. Oh, what about-”

She cut herself off as she looked up at Nico. Once again, his eyes were trained on his phone screen, as if she’d never said anything at all. Worst of all, there was a smile on his face, like the whole thing was amusing him.

Priya felt her mouth tighten into a line. Impulsively she snatched the papers from in front of him, quickly stuffing them into the folder.

“What are you doing?”

She looked up, only to see Nico looking at her. He had the nerve to seem confused.

“I’m going home,” she responded, gripping tightly to the folder as she stood, taking the long way around the table just so she didn’t have to step around him.

“You’re what?” Nico stood, following Priya as she left the room and began walking towards her desk. “Why? I was listening.”

“No, you weren’t!” she retorted sharply, finally turning around to face him. “I’m trying to get your opinions on this, because we’re supposed to be working together. Both of us. But instead you’re ignoring me, you just keep — texting your girlfriend, or whatever it is you’re doing.”

“I’m not texting my girlfriend,” Nico responded, his arms crossed across his chest.

“Then whoever it is! That’s not the point!” Priya groaned, running an exasperated hand through her hair. “The point is, I came here with ideas, and a checklist, and wanting to actually make this work. You show up late, which, fine, maybe you had something else to do, but then you turn down my ideas and you don’t even listen to me!”

“I told you, I was listening.”

“Were you? What was I just talking about, before I left?”

Nico opened his mouth, only for it to slowly shut. At the very least, he had the decency to look guilty over it.

“See? Exactly.” Priya sighed, beginning to walk backwards away from him. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just… take care of everything.”

“But-”

“You won’t get in trouble. I’ll tell Dougie you had something come up.” She turned around, not wanting to hear any excuses he would somehow come up with. “It’s totally fine.”

“Priya...”

She didn’t turn back, walking back towards her desk, noting a lack of footsteps behind her.

Well, she thought. Maybe Christmas miracles are in short supply this year.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

The next afternoon found Priya bursting through the office doors, trying to speed-walk as fast as possible to her desk. Her class had gone on fifteen minutes longer than usual, meaning she’d had to book it to the office the moment her professor had finally dismissed them. It certainly didn’t help her bad mood.

Not that she was in a bad mood. She was totally fine. Chipper, even. She definitely hadn’t spent yesterday evening on the phone to her best friend Jack, ranting about how immensely frustrating a certain coworker of theirs was in between mouthfuls of leftover pasta. And she surely hadn’t been awake until three in the morning, trying to brainstorm ideas on how to throw a company holiday party so unbelievably kick-ass that it made said coworker feel like a fool for not helping out. That was for someone who hadn’t put the entire situation behind them. Like Priya had.

Priya turned the corner, brushing some wayward hair out of her face, only to stop in her tracks. There, pacing in front of her desk, dark eyes trained on the floor, was Nico.

“What are you doing?” Priya asked before she could stop herself.

Nico’s head jerked up as he halted his pacing, as if he’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t sensed her approach. “Oh. Um. Priya. Hi.”

“Hi,” Priya responded, trying to keep her voice even. (Not that there was any reason for it not to be. Because she wasn’t frustrated. At least, Nico didn’t need to know that she was.) “Any reason why you’re burning a line into the carpet?”

“Why I’m… what?” Nico asked, brow furrowed.

Priya sighed, crossing her arms. “Why are you at my desk? Don’t you have, like, computers to fix or something?”

“No. I mean, yes, I do, but…” Nico huffed out a breath, squaring his shoulders. “I wanted to apologize.”

Priya blinked over at him, trying to process the other’s words. “You what?”

“For yesterday. What happened.”

Letting out another sigh, Priya shook her head slightly. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” she muttered, moving past Nico to begin unpacking her bag.

“No, I-“

“If Dougie put you up to this, I’ll talk to him about it. I told him it wasn’t your fault.”

“Priya-”

“Listen, it’s totally fine,” Priya continued as she took out her lunch bag. “I’ll take care of everything. You don’t have to worry-”

“Can I just talk for a second?” Nico interjected. Priya’s eyes flickered up, only to be met with a look of desperation she didn’t think she’d ever seen on the other. Her mouth shut before she could say anything else.

Nico let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I — Dougie didn’t talk to me. I came by myself.”

Priya’s eyebrows lifted slightly, but she kept silent.

“It wasn’t right of me to ignore you like that,” Nico continued, his deep brown eyes soft as they met hers. “You came in with all of these ideas, and I just shot yours down. And then I ignored you while you were trying to help. It was rude. You deserve better than that. So. I’m sorry.”

Priya’s face softened as Nico spoke. She’d never heard the other sound so genuine. “Oh,” she murmured. “Th-thank you for apologizing. I appreciate it. It’s, um, it’s totally fine.”

“Thank you for being understanding,” he countered, the barest hint of a smile crossing his face.

“No, I mean, I get it,” she let out a breath, taking a seat at her desk. “Some people just don’t, like, get into the season. Not everyone likes Christmas.”

“I like Christmas,” Nico spoke up quickly, hands slipping into his pockets. “It’s just…” He sighed. “It’s hard, sometimes. To get into the, what is it called? Holiday spirit?”

Priya hummed in confirmation, keeping her lips pressed together as she studied Nico’s face. “Do you genuinely want to help?”

“What’s that?” Nico questioned.

“Do you really want to help me out with the party? Like, you don’t just want to apologize and pretend nothing happened. You actually want to plan it together.”

Nico nodded, looking deadly serious, as if the task at hand was a thesis paper and not some office holiday gathering. “Yes. I actually do.”

Ignoring the strange twinge in her chest at his expression, Priya grabbed a sticky note and pen, scrawling down her phone number. “Do you work weekends?”

“No. Sometimes I have practice on Saturdays, but always early in the morning. Otherwise, I’m not busy.”

“Fantastic. Sunday then.” She scribbled down an address, handing over the sticky note. “Meet me there at 10?”

Nico studied the note, nodding firmly. “Okay. I’ll be there.” He smiled, holding out his pinky. “Promise.”

Priya stared at his offered hand for a moment before it clicked. She reached over, linking their pinky fingers together.

Nico gave her one last smile before walking off, still studying the note as he disappeared around the corner.

“Huh,” Priya hummed, shrugging slightly as she went to set up her laptop. It wasn’t until a few minutes had gone by that she realized she was still smiling.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

Sunday morning came faster than Priya had expected, and she soon found herself sitting by one of the large windows in Woodland Coffee. The cafe was decked out in holiday cheer - there were stockings hung over the cozy fireplace, paper snowflakes dangling from the ceiling, and soft piano covers of Christmas songs playing over the speakers. Still, Priya’s focus kept drifting back and forth between the front door and her phone, its clock reading 9:59.

Maybe this was all a set up, Priya thought to herself, sighing quietly as she began to scroll Instagram. Maybe he thought it would be funny to get my hopes up again, and then —

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. She glanced up, only to see Nico rushing over to the table, cheeks pink from the cold.

“Hi,” he managed out, catching his breath as he unwound his scarf. “I hope you weren’t waiting too long. There was an accident on the main road, so I had to go around all these back streets, and I’m still not really used to the area —”

“Hey,” Priya interrupted, holding up her hand. “It’s fine. It’s, like, 10:01. You’re not late.”

Nico sighed in relief, smiling as he took off his hat, shaking out his hair. “This place is cute,” he commented, glancing around at all the decorations. “I don’t think I’ve been here before.”

“It’s my go-to,” Priya told him. “They’re a godsend around finals.”

“I’ll bet. What do you usually order?”

“Depends on the time of year. But their peppermint mocha is amazing.”

“Peppermint mocha, got it. Be right back.” Nico smiled, draping his jacket over the back of his chair before heading up to the counter. Priya found herself smiling back, pulling the red folder out of her bag.

Soon enough Nico returned, cautiously carrying two white mugs with red trim. “Here,” he nodded, lowering one of them in front of Priya’s seat. “Peppermint mocha, right?”

Priya’s eyes widened slightly. “I, um, yeah. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” Nico shrugged, taking a seat across from her, a soft smile on his face. He took a small sip of his drink, humming to himself.

“Good?” she asked, smiling.

“Mm. Very good,” he nodded. He took another sip before he sat up straighter, going to root through his backpack. “So, um, I did look up a couple things…” Nico pulled out a manila folder, opening it on the table, only for a few dozen clippings to come spilling out. “Or, um, more than a few,” he admitted, cheeks slightly pink.

“Whoa,” Priya let out a laugh, though she met his eyes to make sure he knew it wasn’t a mocking one. “That’s… wow. This’ll be great to work off.”

Nico smiled back, gesturing towards her folder. “But I want to see yours too. I liked some of the pictures you had. The ones with the string lights over the windows?”

“Oh, uh…” Priya flipped through the pages quickly, taking out one to place on the table. “This one, you mean?”

“Yeah, that one,” Nico said. “But I was thinking, maybe we could make them white lights instead? It would look good with whatever colors we used.”

Priya looked over the photo, slowly nodding. “Yeah. I like that. Plus it’s sort of dark in there, from what I can tell, so it might be best to have the brightest ones possible.”

“Speaking of the room. I was looking over some of the photos, and I think…” Nico took out the page he was referring to, pointing to the picture. “We could put the tables downstairs, and maybe use the second floor for something else. I don’t know what, though.”

“I was thinking maybe a photo booth?” Priya suggested, her eyes suddenly lighting up. “Or, oh my god, what if we got one of the managers to dress up as Santa?”

Nico let out a laugh, dimples showing through as he threw his head back. “Yes. We have to,” he insisted, getting out a pen to scribble down the idea. “And we can get Dougie to be an elf, because he’s so tall.”

Priya found herself laughing along with Nico. “I don’t know if there’s a pair of tights in the world that would fit him.”

“Oh, we’ll find some,” Nico grinned cheekily.

The hours flew by quickly after that. By the time the clock struck noon, the two had planned out the decorations, the entertainment, the food and drink, and everything they had to do in the next few weeks to get everything done. In truth, they probably could have wrapped up faster if they’d kept their focus entirely on the party. But Nico kept interjecting with jokes and questions about her, and, well, Priya would be rude if she didn’t respond in kind.

“So I know you like to read and listen to music,” Nico hummed with a smile, drinking from his third mocha of the day. “Do you like any sports?”

“Oh, yeah,” Priya nodded. “Baseball, football and hockey.”

“I love hockey,” Nico grinned.

“Really?” she smiled, taking a sip of her own drink. “Do you play or just watch?”

“Oh, no, I play for my college. I used to play football too.”

“You did? You don’t seem the type,” Priya commented.

“Why — oh, you mean American football. No, um, soccer. They call it football in Switzerland.”

Priya raised her eyebrows. “I never knew you were from Switzerland.”

Nico laughed. “The accent didn’t give it away?”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever heard a Swiss accent before yours,” Priya countered with a smile.

“That’s fair,” he chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “But yes. Born and raised.”

Nico’s face seemed to grow almost forlorn as he spoke, eyes growing distant. Priya’s brow furrowed.

“Do you-”

“So-”

The two of them laughed, Nico shaking his head.

“You go.”

“No, you go,” Priya prompted, taking another sip of her mocha.

“Just… you said that you like to read,” Nico murmured, fidgeting with a stray pen. “If I was… looking for a book, to get for someone. What would you think?”

Priya thought the question over, putting a hand under her chin. “That’s a hard one. It depends on what they’re interested in. Nonfiction, or the classics, or mysteries.”

“What about you?” Nico asked, draining the last of his coffee cup.

“I mean, I’ve always loved Jane Austen,” Priya told him. “Something about her writing just makes me feel… hopeful, I guess. Like love like that can really exist.” She blushed, setting down her cup. “I bet that sounds silly.”

Nico made a noise of disagreement, his dark eyes studying her. “I don’t think it does,” he told her. “I think it’s nice. To think that way.”

Priya smiled shyly, taking a final sip from her mug. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Nico smiled back, glancing down at his phone to check the time. “Oh, wow, it’s the middle of the afternoon. I should get going. But, um —” He stood, pulling on his coat. “You work all day on Tuesday, right?”

“No, Wednesdays and Fridays,” Priya offered, going to pack up her own belongings.

“Okay, Wednesday then. On our lunch break. We can go out and grab some supplies?” Nico offered, putting away his folder. “Ask Dougie if we can steal a company credit card?”

Priya snickered, shaking her head. “I doubt that’ll happen. But, yeah, that sounds fun.” She was surprised at how much she genuinely meant it.

“Great.” Nico tore off a scrap of paper, writing something down and handing it over to Priya. “I’ll come by your desk at noon. Promise,” Nico smiled. He held out his pinky finger. This time, Priya knew to hook it with her own.

“See you then!” Nico called as he left. He stopped right outside, then turned around, waving through the glass doors with a goofy grin.

Priya let out a laugh, waving back at him. As he walked off, she glanced down at the paper, finding a phone number with a smiley face drawn next to it. Though she didn’t know it, her own smile grew to match it.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

“What’s the difference between these?” Nico called, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Priya glanced up from her checklist, rolling the shopping cart over to where Nico was standing. Thankfully the aisles weren’t too full, given it was noon on a weekday. “Between what?”

“These,” he repeated, showing her two boxes of string lights. “They look the same.”

Priya studied the packaging, pointing to the one in Nico’s left hand. “I think this one is more of a warm white, like, tan almost. This one is cooler, almost blue.”

Nico looked between both packages, frowning as he did so. “I still don’t see a difference,” he admitted.

Priya giggled, taking a few boxes of the cooler lights and putting them into the cart, checking off the box on her list. “Okay, so that’s all set… I think all we need is the candy for the dessert table and we’ll be good to go.”

She’d come up with the idea when Jack had approached her, asking if he could bring something to represent Hanukkah to the holiday party. “I’m a horrible cook, but I’ve made jelly donuts a couple times and haven’t burned down the whole kitchen,” Jack had told her with a laugh. Something had clicked, and she’d quickly fired off a message to Nico, asking what he thought. Thankfully, he loved it.

Thus far, they’d had five sign-ups to bring homemade desserts — mini pies, gingerbread bars, peppermint bark fudge, snickerdoodles and Jack’s jelly donuts. Priya had already bought the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies, though she wasn’t sure if eight dozen was too few.

She snapped out of her worries when she suddenly recognized Nico humming along to the store radio, making her laugh. “You like Mariah Carey?”

“Hmm? Oh,” Nico laughed sheepishly as they strolled through the store. “Yeah. I’m not a huge fan of Christmas music, but… I like this song. I like that it’s more about wishing for someone rather than something.”

“That’s sweet,” Priya smiled at him, heart fluttering slightly (though she couldn’t quite place why).

She thought over Nico’s words as they walked down the crafts aisle, glancing around at the crayons and construction paper. Suddenly she gasped, stopping in her tracks.

“What?” Nico asked, turning around with a worried expression.

“I just had an idea,” she rushed out, going to grab a pile of forest green construction paper. “What if we made a wishing tree? Like, we made a tree out of construction paper and hung it up on the wall, and we made little paper ornaments. And people could come over and write their holiday wishes on them, and hang them up on the tree?”

Nico froze for a moment, letting out a soft laugh. “You just came up with that?”

“Yeah,” Priya nodded, shoulders lowering as she looked over at him. “I — is it -”

“It’s brilliant,” Nico reassured her, eyes sparkling. “Beyond brilliant. I’m just — I’m surprised you came up with that so fast. But, yes. Definitely. We should.” He went to grab red and white construction paper, along with some colorful markers. “You’re really good at this.”

Priya blushed, shrugging slightly. “I mean, you gave me the idea.”

“I think Mariah Carey came up with it to begin with,” Nico joked, putting their supplies into the cart. “We should send her a thank-you gift.”

Priya laughed, walking alongside Nico as he took over cart-pushing duties. “Speaking of gifts, have you bought all of yours yet? I’m still trying to figure out what to get my parents.”

Nico didn’t reply. Priya looked over, only to see his jaw tightened, the same forlorn expression on his face from when they’d talked about his home at the coffee shop.

“Oh, does — does your family not do gifts?”

“No, they… they do,” Nico told her, voice low. “Just… they’re all back home. My family, I mean. They’re all in Switzerland. So it would… it would take a while for any gifts to get to them.”

“Oh.” Priya stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets. “Well, I mean, you can give them the next time you visit, right? A late gift is still a gift.”

“I don’t know when that will be,” Nico admitted. “Plane tickets are expensive. And there’s still work, and school… it’s hard to find time to talk to anyone back home, let alone go and see them.”

“Yeah,” Priya nodded, biting her inner lip. It makes sense why he wasn’t into planning this, she thought, with everyone far away. “So, um… when you are home, for Christmas. What’s it like? In Switzerland? Is it much different from here?”

“I’ve only celebrated Christmas here once, and it was just with a few friends from the team,” Nico told her with a slight shrug. “But at home, we don’t set up the tree early like you guys do sometimes. The parents decorate it the night before Christmas Eve, and in the morning you come downstairs and see it. They used to tell us the elves did it.” He let out a laugh. “And then we usually have ham and raclette. Like, melty cheese, with potatoes. And my mom will make spitzbuben.”

“Spitzbuben,” she repeated with a slight laugh. “I like that word.”

“It’s like, um… jam cookies,” Nico told her after a moment’s thought. “They’re always so good.”

Priya’s face lit up as she nudged Nico’s arm. “You should make them for the party!”

“Me?” Nico asked, eyes widening. “Oh, no, I — I’m terrible at making food.”

“I can help you out,” she told him. “Ask your mom for the recipe. You can come over when I’m making the chocolate chip ones. Tackle them together.”

Nico’s smile slowly grew as he nodded. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Priya smiled back, her chest hit with that same strange feeling as earlier. Shaking her head slightly to reset herself, she cleared her throat. “So, when do you give the gifts?”

“Oh, um, not… not on actual Christmas,” Nico told her, running a hand through his hair as they approached the food section. “Samichlaus — that’s what we call Santa. He comes on the 6th of December.”

“Really?” Priya asked. She was about to turn down the candy aisle when a realization hit her, making her stop in her tracks.

“Priya?” Nico asked, voice suddenly filled with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she answered after a moment. “Yeah, I… I’m really sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Nico questioned, hands in his jean pockets. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No, I…” she sighed. “December 6th. That was the day we met, right? I mean… when we had our first meeting. About the party.”

Nico nodded slightly, face still reading confusion.

“You — I was so mad because you weren’t paying attention to me,” Priya sighed, guilt pooling in her stomach. “But you… you were probably texting your family, right?”

Nico was silent as she spoke, slowly nodding again. “Yeah. Yeah, my… my family was sending me messages. And some of my friends from back home.”

“God, Nico,” Priya whispered, letting out a sigh. “You could have said something. I would have understood.”

“I thought it was silly,” Nico confessed after a moment. “To be sad about missing something so… childish.”

“It’s not silly if it means something to you,” Priya told him, placing a hand on his upper arm. “I should have asked.”

Nico nodded slightly, meeting her eyes. “I should have said something. Or at least, not been so much of a jerk to you.”

“You weren’t a jerk-”

“No, I was. I didn’t — I took my feelings out on you. I didn’t want to even think about Christmas, and you had all these great ideas, and you were so happy about it… it wasn’t right of me to act how I did. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Priya sighed, slowly lowering her arm to wrap around her waist.

“You don’t have to be,” Nico told her, this time raising his hand to pat her shoulder. “It’s okay. You’ve done so much. And your ideas are incredible.”

Priya let out a shy laugh. “I try.”

“I’m glad you do,” Nico smiled, patting her shoulder once more before turning back to the cart. “Come on. We can get some candy for the drive home too.”

Priya smiled back. “Well, I mean, if you insist.”

“I do,” Nico grinned, the two of them making their way down the aisle.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

Priya tightened her jacket around herself, shivering as she stepped out of the grocery store into the blustery air. When she’d gone shopping for supplies for her and Nico’s baking session, she’d thought a dozen eggs would be enough for the chocolate chip and Swiss Jam cookies. What she hadn’t counted on was burning the first batch of chocolate chip, then struggling with separating the yolk from the white for the spitzbuben, then Nico tripping and dropping two of the eggs onto the kitchen floor.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to get them?” Nico had asked, trying to mop up the splattered mess. “I feel bad sending you out into the cold.”

“It’s fine. There’s a store, like, two blocks from here. It won’t take me long,” Priya promised him, giggling internally at the kicked-puppy look of guilt he wore. “Just make sure the ones in the oven now don’t get burnt.”

Now that Priya was thinking it over, it probably wasn’t the smartest idea to leave someone she’d only known for a few weeks alone in her apartment. Particularly not someone who, before they’d started planning together, she’d been sure held some sort of personal vendetta against her. But things had changed. Nico was still quiet at times, but always in a way she could tell was considerate of the world around him. His eyes held the same intensity, but it no longer scared her away. There were still those instances of strange fluttering in her chest from time to time, but Priya refused to focus on those. Not while there was still so much to do before the party.

As Priya pressed the call button to cross the street, she suddenly noticed a collection of bright lights to her left. A row of booths had been set up along the sidewalk in a miniature Christmas market, with a dozen or so shoppers meandering between the string-lit tents. She could see some children stepping away from one with paper cups of hot chocolate and cider.

Priya glanced down at her phone to check the time, shrugging slightly. Though she’d gotten almost all her holiday shopping done, it couldn’t hurt to poke around. Besides, if nothing else, maybe she could bring Nico back some hot drinks to share.

She ducked her head entering the first tent, seeing it filled with fuzzy scarves and gloves. Reaching her free hand up to stroke the fabrics, mindful of her grocery bag, she walked further in, seeing a collection of multicolored, handknit beanies. They reminded her of Nico, she thought with a slight laugh. He’d worn the same black winter hat every time she’d seen him the past month.

Maybe he could use a new one, she thought. Would he like the red, or —

Priya paused in surprise at herself, pulling her hand back from the display. She hadn’t been planning on buying Nico a gift. They weren’t close like that — or were they now? They’d spent almost every day together since their shopping trip, sitting at the same lunch table and working on crafting the wish tree display. But that was just because of the party, wasn’t it? Once it had passed, they wouldn’t be attached to each other like they were now. Then again, more often than not their conversations had drifted away from planning, to music and sports and funny stories from each others’ pasts. She didn’t want that part to end. She — she liked Nico.

Biting her lip, head still spinning from the revelation, Priya turned away from the hat display, instead studying a glass display table of different jewelry. Her eyes scanned over the different earrings and bracelets, only to stop once they caught sight of a necklace. Hanging from black cord was a small gold-colored coin, two intertwining flowers etched into the metal.

“You like it?”

Priya’s head jerked up, only to meet a smiling older woman in a purple headscarf. “It’s edelweiss.”

“Edelweiss?” Priya repeated, eyes returning to the necklace.

“Yes. A flower that grows in the Alps,” the woman told her. “Very popular in those countries. Austria, Romania, Switzerland.”

Priya’s heart jolted in her chest, studying the coin, the way the flowers’ stems wrapped around one another.

“How — how much?”

A few minutes later, Priya carefully opened the front door of her apartment, two large cups of hot chocolate in hand.

“There you are,” Nico sighed, relief clear on his face as he made his way to the front door. “I was about to call you. Did you get caught up in something?”

“Just thought I’d stop for these,” Priya shrugged, handing over one of the cups to him.

“Oh, wow. Thanks,” Nico smiled at her, his dimples clear as he took the grocery bag as well. “You’re the best.”

Priya let out a shy laugh. She glanced up towards Nico, watching as he walked back into the kitchen and ran a hand through his dark hair. He really is handsome, she thought. And sweet. And passionate. And —

“Priya?” Nico called, making her snap out of her thoughts. “You okay?”

“Yep! Yeah, sorry. Give me one second,” she smiled over at him. She turned to hang up her coat by the door, taking just a moment to reach into her pocket, running her fingers over the small crimson gift box.

Not tonight, she thought. But soon. Probably. Maybe.

Taking a deep breath, Priya turned back towards Nico, smiling wide. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

The date of the Christmas party finally arrived. Priya had spent most of the day setting up the ballroom with Nico, securing the decorations and making sure the caterers had everything they needed. A few times she’d glanced over at Nico, a confession she wasn’t sure how to phrase on the top of her tongue, but she’d always swallowed it back. If she was going to completely embarrass herself in front of a cute boy, she was going to do it right.

After a well-deserved nap, Priya had gotten to work preparing herself for the party. Instead of her usual uniform of sweatpants and a hoodie, she’d decided on one of her nicest outfits: a knee-length, deep green sparkly dress with long sleeves, paired with silver flats. She’d done her hair in a low bun, securing it with a velvet green bow, romantic tresses framing her face. She kept her makeup basic, but made sure to use her favorite red lipstick, double checking to make sure none had gotten on her teeth.

Priya did a spin in front of her bedroom mirror, smiling at herself. It wasn’t too often she got a chance to dress up — a fact she was largely grateful for — but it was still fun when the moment came.

Grabbing her handbag, her eyes drifted over to the burgundy jewelry box, still sitting atop her dresser. Was it even a good idea to give it? Would it be overstepping? What if he thought it was cheesy? What if it made him miss home even more? What if —

A knock on the door made Priya’s head jolt up, brow furrowed. She hadn’t been expecting anyone. Before she could think better of it, she grabbed the box, shoving it into her bag.

“Coming!” she called, making her way down the hallway to open the front door.

Standing there, in a deep red shirt and black tie, was Nico. “Hi,” he managed out, his voice sounding shyer than Priya could ever remember it.

“Hi,” Priya responded, her voice soft to match his.

Nico looked Priya up and down, his cheeks pale pink. “You, um… you look beautiful.”

Priya’s own cheeks flushed. “Thank you,” she smiled shyly. “You look nice too. Very handsome.”

“Thanks.” Nico bit his lip, moving his hands from behind his back, handing out a bouquet of white and red flowers. “I… these are for you.”

Priya felt her heart leap as she took the bouquet, inhaling the sweet aroma. “Garden roses,” she whispered, meeting his eyes. “I love them. How did you know?”

“I, um, I might’ve asked Jack,” Nico admitted, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “Just… you’ve been so great with everything, and… I wanted to thank you.”

Priya smiled, stepping forward to pull Nico into a hug. She could feel him tense in surprise for a moment, only to wrap his arms around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder. He smelled like warmth, and cinnamon, and the slightest bit of pine. She could already imagine herself getting addicted.

“Thank you,” Priya murmured into his shirt, closing her eyes for a moment. “You’re… you’re wonderful. Really.”

“I try,” Nico let out a soft laugh.

After a few seconds too long, Priya forced herself to pull away, shyly laughing. “I’ll, um, I’ll go put these in water.”

“Yeah,” Nico nodded, clearing his throat. “Yeah, no worries.”

Priya had gotten only a few steps away when a thought hit her, making her turn to face him. “What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you’d be at the party.”

“I am. I mean, I’m going. I just thought, maybe I could drive you. If you don’t have other plans.”

Priya smiled softly. “Yeah. Yeah, no, I’d love that.” She put the flowers onto the kitchen counter, making her way back to the doorway. “Jack said he’d drive me home, but I’ll just tell him to meet me there.”

“You sure?” Nico raised his eyebrows worriedly. “You don’t have to. I mean — I should have asked you first —”

“Nico. It’s fine,” Priya reassured him. “I want to go with you.”

Nico’s smile practically lit up her insides as he nodded. “Okay. If you’re sure.” He offered his arm, putting on a slightly goofy formal voice. “Shall we, my lady?”

“We shall, good sir,” she giggled, taking his arm as they made their way outside.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

Even though she’d spent most of the day setting up for the party, Priya still found herself unprepared by how beautiful the ballroom had ended up. From her spot on the second floor balcony, she could watch the string lights glow, illuminating the smiling faces of the people below. She spied one of the tech heads, Miles, dressed up in a full Santa suit, taking photos with the marketing team. The playlist she and Nico had crafted was playing softly through the speakers, adding a pleasant hum to the whole scene. Somehow, everything had worked out.

Priya gazed over the crowd, only for her eyes to stop on a familiar face. Nico smiled at her from his place near the dessert table, motioning her down. She grinned back, nodding quickly as she made her way downstairs, carefully maneuvering around the guests.

“Hey,” she smiled, nudging Nico with her elbow.

“Hey.” Nico let out a soft sigh, glancing around at the crowd. “We pulled it off.”

“I know,” Priya sighed with him. “Is it weird to say I’m proud of us?”

Nico glanced over, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t think it’s weird. Not at all.”

Priya’s eyes softened as she nudged him again. “Then I am. I’m proud of us. And you.”

“Me?” Nico laughed in disbelief.

“Yeah, you. I know it wasn’t the easiest thing for you, but… you really stepped up. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

“Well, I couldn’t have even gotten started without you,” Nico pointed out. “So. I’m proud of you, too.”

Their eyes met, the rest of the world seeming a distant blur.

“Nico-”

“Hey-”

They both laughed.

“You first,” Nico gestured towards her.

“No, no, it’s fine. You go,” she nodded.

“Just, I have to head out pretty soon,” Nico admitted, scratching the back of his head.

Priya frowned slightly. “Oh. Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, no, stay and have fun. You’ve earned it,” Nico assured her, patting her shoulder. “I just wanted to let you know. Jack said he could drive you back, right? So you won’t be walking in the cold?”

“Yeah,” Priya nodded after a moment. “Yeah, no, I’ll just have to go find him.”

“Okay.” Nico smiled. A few seconds of silence passed between them. Priya bit her cheek, feeling her heart begin to pound in her chest.

Without warning, Nico stepped forward, pulling her into a tight hug. Priya closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around him, letting out a deep sigh.

Eventually they pulled apart, Nico’s smile seeming to have a tinge of melancholy to it. “See you around,” he nodded.

“I — yeah. See you around,” she forced out, managing a smile. Priya let herself watch for just a moment as Nico made his way through the crowd. Then, straightening her shoulders, she turned around, beginning to search the room for Jack.

She found him not too far away, chatting with Dougie. “Hey, Prius!” Jack grinned, pulling her into a hug. “Did you have one of the donuts yet?”

“Not yet,” Priya admitted, laughing as she pulled apart. “But soon.”

“Amazing job with the party, Priya,” Dougie nodded.

Priya shrugged modestly. “It would’ve been better if we could have found you an elf costume that fit.”

“Wasn’t meant to be,” Dougie laughed, Jack chuckling along with him. “You know, I have to say, I wasn’t sure at first when Nico came to me asking to work with you. But you guys really came together.”

Priya’s eyes widened slightly. “He what?”

“Didn’t he tell you?” Dougie’s brow furrowed. “He came to me begging for me to put you on party planning with him. I knew you could handle it, but I always thought you two didn’t get along.”

“We didn’t,” Priya managed out, voice hitching. “Can you, um… will you excuse me a sec?”

Without waiting for an answer, Priya walked away, her head spinning. This whole time, she’d thought that she and Nico had been thrown together by some twist of fate, or that Dougie had wanted to minimize the tension between them. Nico had really asked for her? Why?

Priya was drawn out of her thoughts just enough to stare at the wishing tree she and Nico had assembled. It wasn’t too full yet, with only a few red and white baubles attached to the construction paper tree. Almost instantly, though, her eyes were drawn towards one particular ornament, with handwriting that felt all too familiar.

I wish I could tell her how I really feel.

Her heart stopped in her chest. Everything seemed to stop; the world became a blur. Before another thought crossed her mind, Priya found herself rushing out of the ballroom, hurrying as fast as she could towards the parking lot. Thankfully, there was still a figure standing outside of his car, wearing a familiar black winter hat.

“Nico!” Priya cried, running towards him. “Nico, wait!”

Nico turned around, brows drawn tightly together as he noticed her. “Priya? What are you doing out here? Can Jack not-”

“Be… be quiet for a second,” Priya told him, catching her breath as she finally approached the car.

“Priya, I don’t -”

“What did your wish mean?”

Nico’s brow furrowed further. “What wish?”

“The one you wrote on the tree,” Priya clarified, crossing her arms. “You said… you said you wish you could tell someone how you really feel. What does that mean?”

Nico’s eyes widened, a guilty expression taking over his face. “That — I — I didn’t think you would know that was mine.”

“I know your handwriting by now,” Priya pointed out.

There was a beat of silence before she sighed.

“I don’t — I don’t get it. You hate me. Or you — you did hate me. Why-”

“I never hated you,” Nico murmured.

“Then why did you always stare me down? Why wouldn’t you just talk to me?”

He let out a soft sigh, staring down at the pavement. “I was scared,” he confessed. “You were so… so beautiful, and smart. And you just… you lit up the room every time you walked in. And I was just this… this boy who barely spoke English, and I was so afraid of saying the wrong thing.”

Priya’s face softened, her arms drifting down to her side. “Is that why you asked Dougie to work with me?”

Nico winced for a moment at having been found out, but slowly nodded. “I thought… it would be an excuse to get to know you better. And to spend more time with you. And I messed it up, because I was too in my own head. But you gave me a second chance, and…” He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair as he glanced up to meet her eyes, his own dark and anxiety-filled. “I know it… it sounds foolish. But I thought…”

“Nico,” Priya whispered, stepping forward. Biting her lip, she quickly rustled through her bag, handing over the jewelry box.

Nico’s brow furrowed. “What… what is this?”

“It’s for you. For Christmas.”

Nico slowly removed the lid, carefully removing the necklace. “Edelweiss,” he whispered in awe, turning to look at her.

“I got it a few days ago,” Priya confessed, her cheeks pink. “I just… I thought of you. And I thought of… how sweet you are, and how supportive you’ve been, and how easy it is for you to make me laugh. And I-”

“Priya.”

Nico stepped forward, slowly closing the gap between them. Priya’s heart raced as he reached his hand up to cup her cheek. “Priya,” he repeated softly, before leaning in, closing the gap between their lips.

Priya felt her chest burst open, moving to wrap her arms around his neck. She’d never imagined a kiss in a freezing cold parking lot could feel so perfect.

Nico was smiling when he finally pulled away, his eyes sparkling. “Wow,” he let out a short laugh.

“Wow,” Priya repeated, a giggle rising in her throat.

Nico leaned in once again, only to be interrupted by his phone vibrating in his pocket. “Damnit,” he cursed, quickly pulling it out. “That’ll be Jonas.”

“Jonas?” she asked, hands still on his shoulders.

“My friend from Switzerland,” he told her. “I… after we talked about it, I went online and got a flight home. I’m leaving tonight.”

“Oh,” Priya gasped, her eyes wide. She pulled her hands away, shoving at him gently. “Oh my god, then, go, go! Don’t miss your flight!”

“Wait, wait,” Nico laughed, grabbing at her hands to hold them. “I have something for you first.”

“What?” Priya asked, a wide smile still on her face.

“One second.” Nico quickly turned around, opening the back door of his car, pulling out a box wrapped in royal blue paper. “For you,” he offered with a smile.

“Nico,” Priya grinned. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I wanted to,” Nico countered. “Besides, you got me something.”

“But that was just something small, and you already got me flowers-”

“You’re going to make me miss my flight,” Nico teased, smirking.

Sighing, Priya carefully removed the paper, only to let out a gasp. “Is this… you got me the entire Jane Austen collection?”

“I noticed you didn’t have any on your shelves at your apartment,” he shrugged sheepishly. “And I… I got a set for myself too. Not as nice as those, but I thought… Maybe we could read them together. See what gives you, what was it… hope? For love?”

Priya’s heart fluttered as she placed the books on the hood of Nico’s car, throwing her arms around him again. “I love them. Thank you so much,” she whispered.

“Of course. And thank you. For everything,” Nico whispered back, turning his face so he could kiss her cheek.

The sound of a phone buzzing made them both groan, though they giggled as they pulled apart.

“I really should get going,” Nico sighed, handing Priya back her book collection. “I fly back on the 2nd of January. Can we — can we talk then, maybe?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course,” Priya smiled. “And I have your phone number, so I can FaceTime you. If you want.”

“I’ll always want to see you,” Nico admitted, smiling shyly.

Priya pulled Nico into another kiss, her hand venturing up to stroke a thumb over his cheek. “January 2nd,” she whispered as she pulled apart.

“January 2nd,” he nodded, holding out his pinky finger. She quickly looped hers with his, cheeks flushing red as he leaned down to kiss her knuckles.

“I’ll see you then,” Nico smiled. “Merry Christmas, Priya.”

“Merry Christmas, Nico.”

One more hug, one more kiss, and then he was off, car disappearing into the night.

Priya watched him go, feeling warmer than she’d ever felt. Quickly she took out her phone, moving towards her calendar app. Eleven days, she thought. I can make it that long.

Slipping her phone back into her bag, Priya let out a blissful sigh. She glanced down at the books in her hand, stroking a finger over the spines, before she began to make her way back towards the ballroom.

I guess I was right, she thought with a smile. Miracles really do happen all the time.

#the winter fic exchange 2k23 #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl writing #nico hischier fic #my writing #hockey fic #hockey fanfiction

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spookyscarydemonbabe · 2 years

Text

Talking In Your Sleep

A/N- This was my most recent fic posted when my account got deleted 🥺 it’s another fic from my song fic list, and it’s a bit longer than the others, but i had so much fun writing this!!

Summary- Eddie lets you stay over at his place so you don’t have to go out in the storm, and while you’re sleeping he hears something strange. Something that sounds like his name…

Genre- Fluff

Warnings- Mentions of gore

Tag List- @imagine-all-the-imagines @hellfirewh0re @paola-carter @whiplaaaaaaaaash @ladyapplejackdnd @thatlonelypieceoftoast @efvyqrs

Words- 2.7k

You sighed as you looked out Eddie’s bedroom window. Pouring rain. More like a thunderstorm to be completely honest, but the wind and the darkness of the clouds made it seem like a hurricane.

“You don’t plan on driving home in that do you?” He asked you from his spot across the bed, his hair lazily tied back behind him as he took one last drag off of the joint the two of you had been passing for the last hour.

You had come over just for another one of your normal hang outs, smoke, talk, maybe watch a movie or two if there was time for it. But of course you forgot to check the weather before leaving the house and didn’t prepare at all for the storm. You groaned as you stood up, lifting the blinds a bit to get a better look outside. The rain was beating down hard on the window, the sky made everything look dark and grey and it was difficult to see even 10 feet in front of you.

“Yeah, i better not. I can always just wait it out though, right? How long is it supposed to rain for?”

“Pretty sure all night, you wanna just crash here tonight? It’s a lot safer, and a lot drier, if you wait until morning,” he looked at the black wristwatch he had on to check the time, “it’s getting kinda late anyways, almost 9:30.”

You jumped as the sky turned white with a crash of thunder. Storms were never something that scared you, but you couldn’t help it if the thunder and lightning caught you by surprise and made you slightly anxious. You turned back and made your way back to your spot next to him on his bed,

“You sure you don’t mind if i stay over?”

“Not at all,” he said with a smile, “pretty sure my uncle is doing an overnight at work so i’m sure he won’t mind.” He stood up and stretched his arms over his head, his t-shirt lifting up slightly around his torso, giving you a peek of his stomach and the trail of hair that stretched from his bellybutton to the waistband of the sweats he had on.

A gentle blush spread across your cheeks and you quickly looked away to hide it. The two of you had spent tons of time together, but you’d never spent the night at each other’s place before. The thought of it always made you a little curious though. After years of hanging out, being invited to come and watch their DnD sessions for Hellfire, and of course watching Corroded Coffin perform after he snuck you behind the stage at The Hideout, you couldn’t help but have a slow burning crush on the curly haired boy.

He was always so sweet with you, and it was pretty nice to have him be like your guard dog whenever you went out, scaring off other guys from trying to make a move on you. He was the first person to show you how to smoke, you helped him study any time he needed help with school, and overtime as you came to the trailer more and more you were noticing that his room was more put together than usual. Cleaner than you expected it to be.

You were always hoping that someday you’ll be able to be open and honest with him about your feelings, but the friendship you had meant too much for you to ruin with something as silly as having a crush. Recently, it’s gotten much worse than usual. He started appearing in your dreams.

It wasn’t anything abnormal, you’d always see people you knew in your dreams, that’s just how dreams work. But he was popping up more and more, and lately you’ve been having the same reoccurring dream each and every night for the last week.

It was cliché, you were a princess who needed to be saved from whatever fearsome monster your brain decided upon and Eddie was your knight. Every single night he would swoop in and rescue you, fighting off the monsters and sweeping you off your feet in his blood covered armor. But right as you were about to kiss him as a thanks for saving you, like clockwork, your eyes would open and it was morning. Of course you would wake up right before the best part.

But the thought of him coming to save you, his long hair flowing behind him as he fought off the monsters keeping you captive, his strong arms keeping you held tight as he swept you off your feet. God, the thought of him in a shiny suit of armor just made your heart flutter.

He looked around for some extra clothes for you to sleep in, picking up one of his old shirts off of the ground and a pair of oversized sweats from one of his drawers,

“Here, you can change into these. i’ll grab a pillow or something and sleep on the couch. My beds a lot comfier anyways, i’m sure you’d prefer it.” He said with a smile as he handed you the extra clothes, grabbing a pillow from his bed and stepping out into the hall.

As he left, you shut the door behind him, leaving it open just a crack as you pulled off your jeans and quickly changed into the sweats he gave you. They were definitely a bit bigger on you, but they hung comfortably around your waist as you tied up the string in front. You didn’t even notice Eddie peek into his room from the hall, a smirk on his lips as he watched you pull your shirt up over your head to change into the old band shirt he grabbed you. He finally spoke up as he saw you reach behind your back to undo the clasp on your bra,

“Need some help with that?” He said with a laugh, making you jump and cover your chest, rushing to shut his door.

“You pervert! We’re you watching me change?!” You yelled at him from behind the door, hearing him laugh from the other side.

“I was just coming back in to get a blanket, it’s your fault for not closing the door all the way.” You rolled your eyes as he kept laughing to himself, “Just finish changing so i can get it and we can go to sleep.”

You quickly changed into the shirt he gave you after slipping your bra off, tossing your clothes into a clear space on his floor. It was soft, and you couldn’t help but take a deep inhale as you slipped it over your head. It smelled like him. Musky, a little bit of weed, and just a hint of the lemongrass and eucalyptus incense he loved to burn after he smoked. You walked back over and opened his bedroom door, and giggled as he stood there with one hand over his eyes, peeking through his fingers,

“Are you decent?”

You smiled and pulled his hand away,

“I’m fine, you can look, just don’t be weird.”

He smiled as he watched you walk over to his bed, admiring how you looked in his clothes. Though it was just an old shirt and sweats, the fact that it was his clothes covering your figure made him feel… He wasn’t sure exactly how to put it into words, but it was definitely a good feeling, seeing a girl he admired wearing his clothes, about to climb into his bed. He’d be stupid not to try and sneak in next to you, holding you tight all night, the calming rain hitting his windows, giving your body a comforting squeeze each time the sound of the thunder and lightening crashed.

“Eddie, you’re staring.” You said with a giggle. He didn’t even realize he was staring as you climbed into his bed, pulling the covers over you.

“Sorry, just weird seeing someone else in my clothes.”

“Good weird, or bad weird?”

He shrugged, slipping his shirt over his head as he looked around his room for another blanket,

“Good weird i guess.”

The two of you smiled at one another, relishing in the comfortable silence of his bedroom as the rain splashed outside.

You heard another loud crash of thunder outside and jumped, gripping the covers in your hand as your eyes shot to the window, seeing the sky glow a quick white before going back to darkness. Eddie could see how nervous you were, gently shaking under the blankets.

“You want me to stay in here with you?” He asked, sitting at the edge of his bed.

You nodded silently, sitting yourself up and making some room for him next to you,

“Will you just stay in here with me until i fall asleep? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, if you get tied then-“

“I’ll stay.”

He quickly cut you off, assuring you that he’d stay as long as you needed him too. He smiled and climbed in next to you, keeping himself above the covers as you settled into his bed, resting your head onto his soft pillows with a yawn.

You turned onto your side and reached over to turn off the light, your body facing away from Eddie as he carefully lifted up the blanket on his side, making sure to give you some space. He’d give anything to be closer to you, but he didn’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable.

You shut your eyes and tried your best to think up different scenarios to help yourself fall asleep but with Eddie being so close to you, in his bed, his scent surrounding you, all you could think of was the same dream you’ve been having.

This time it was a giant, fearsome dragon, keeping you hostage inside their cave. Your arms were tied behind your back, your dress torn, your face dirtied with mud and bits of dried blood from all the other knights who met their gruesome fate trying to rescue you. Just as the dragon was slowly making its way back towards you, it made a piercing scream, making you shut your eyes in fear. Peeking through your eyelids, you could see someone standing at the other end of the cave, sword and shield in hand as the dragon approached them. Another knight, here to rescue you and bring you back home, safe and sound. You had witnessed too many of them lose their lives from the merciless dragon. You shut your eyes, not wanting to watch another one of your saviors be gruesomely killed, but you could hear everything that was happening before you.

The dragons loud screeches, the sound of the knights sword clashing with the hard scales, his armor getting scratched and dented from the dragon fighting back. You had heard it too many times before, and you knew within seconds the knight would have his last breath as the dragon finished them off but with one last screech from the dragon and a loud thud, you slowly opened your eyes.

There he was, standing before you, the dragon bleeding from the large gash in its neck from the knight delivering his final strike. His armor was beat up and scratched, his face littered with specks of blood and dirt, his long curly hair had strands that were matted with blood, his chest was heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

He approached you and cut the ties around your wrists, your arms slung around his shoulders to bring him in for an embrace, one hand reaching to hold his cheek,

“Eddie…” You said quietly, the corners of your lips turning into a smile as his arms reached under your legs and behind your back, carrying you out of the cave and to his fearless destrier to bring you back to your castle.

As he carried you, all you could do was stare up in adoration at him for showing so much bravery and courage for rescuing you from peril. No one had been able to defeat the dreaded dragon that had kept you hostage, and yet he was able to do it so easily. He could keep you safe. He made you feel safe.

Once he was able to carry you back to his steed, he carefully set you down, keeping his arm around your waist as he helped you up, quickly grabbing hold of the reigns as he sat himself in front of you. You wrapped your arms around his torso and held him tightly, your head rested on his shoulder and the exhaustion from the whole ordeal finally hit you, your eyes slowly closing as you whispered,

“Thank you…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Eddie laid in bed, he rested his head on the pillow next to yours, trying his best to stay up as long as he could to make sure you were fast asleep before him.

He looked over at your still figure next to him, making little noises every now and then as you drifted off to sleep. He sighed and turned over with his back to you, trying to keep himself from wrapping his arms around your frame and holding you so close to him all night to comfort you from the thunder and lightning that had been frightening you. It was difficult, and it was frustrating, but it was what he had to do to keep from leading to an awkward morning.

He heard a few whimpers from you and shut his eyes to try and force himself asleep but he couldn’t do it, not with you so close to him. Just as he was about to give up and make himself pull an all nighter to try and keep from holding onto you, he heard his name softly escape your lips,

“Eddie…”

He sat up in bed, turning himself back to face you, but he didn’t notice that as you slept you had tossed and turned your body to his. You let out a few soft groans and whimpers, and he couldn’t tell if whatever dream you were having was sweet, or a nightmare. He gently placed his fingers onto your shoulder to check if you were awake,

“(y/n)?” He whispered, “You ok?”

You were fast asleep, and he figured out that you must’ve been talking in your sleep from whatever dream it was you were having. But why were you saying his name? Could you have been dreaming about him?

He laid himself back down next to you, facing your body and his eyes wandered over how peaceful your face looked as you slept. So sweet, so calm, so pretty. He watched your lips as you let out a few tiny whimpers and before he had the chance to move any closer to you, you slowly moved yourself forward and closed the gap between your bodies.

He was stiff laying there as your arms wrapped around him, holding onto him as you still slept, not knowing what your own actions were doing to him. As soon as he was certain you weren’t going to let go any time soon, he relaxed himself under your touch, his arms carefully moving around you to hold you gently, not wanting to wake or startle you.

Your touch was comforting to him, soft even as your head rested itself on his shoulder, your chest slowly moving as his hands slowly moved up and down your torso. His lips curled into a smile and his eyes slowly shut, a slow wave of exhaustion finally hitting him as the two of you laid there in one another’s arms. Just as he could feel the faintest bit of consciousness escape him, he heard you whisper once more,

“Thank you…”

He didn’t care if you were actually saying it to him, or whomever it was that you were talking to in your dream, but he knew deep down that you were thankful for everything he had done for you that night.

Letting you stay over, lending you his clothes to sleep in, offering his bed to you and staying with you to keep you comforted from the thunder and lightning as you slept next to him so peacefully.

The next morning was definitely going to be an awkward one, the two of you holding each other so close when the furthest you’ve come to snuggling was holding each other during a particularly terrifying movie. This time it was different. You were holding onto each other so delicately, almost lovingly, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

He placed a gentle kiss to the top of your head and whispered to you before succumbing to his slumber,

“Goodnight (y/n)…”

_______________________________________________

If you’d like to read more of my work, make sure to check out my masterlist 🥰

#stranger things 4 #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson fic

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