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alltaternotot · 5 months ago

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Looking Glass | N. Zadorov

Nikita Zadorov x tailor! Reader

Summary: Nikita is trying to find a new suit tailor after his retires, and he is surprised to find a small tailor shop with all kinds of surprises, even beyond the suit

WC: 11k

CW: fluff, smut, relatively slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers?? swearing, limited knowledge about tailoring/suitmaking, the use of the words “suit” and “hand” a million times, light proofreading. Let me know if I’m missing something!

NSFW (MINORS DNI): fingering, p n v, in the mirror, clothed sex, so much praise it’s not even funny, Z likes to talk, consent checks, creampie (BE RESPONSIBLE! WRAP IT!), aftercare, this one got HORNY so be warned.

A/N: cuz we all love a giant pretty man in a nice suit ;)

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1 - the meeting

“I’m sorry Nikita, I’m retiring in two weeks, I’m finishing your last suit order then I can’t take any more. But I really do appreciate your business over the years, my friend.” Nikita’s tailor, Dimitri, said over the phone in Russian.

This was a little bit of a shock to Nikita, as his tailor had been designing and fitting his suits from day one, all the way back in Colorado. His closet was piled high with suits he would never stop loving, years and years of designing a look that was perfect for him.

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m thankful I could at least get one last suit from you. I hope retirement treats you well, call anytime if you find yourself in Vancouver.” He said, earning a light hearted chuckle on the other line.

“Will do Nikita. Your suit will be on its way to you in the next few days. Best of luck this season.”

They ended the call with the usual goodbyes and made his way over to his closet, pulling out his navy pinstripe suit for the game coming up in just a few hours. His ex used to pick out his suits every game day, but now that they had been broken up for some time he started to enjoy the freedom of wearing whichever suit he felt like. His style was his own after all.

He burned the day away, working out and skating in the morning, eating a light lunch and watching some new show that Quinn had mentioned. He felt calm and ready for the evening ahead. The game hadn’t changed in that way for him, he still loved it like he did as a little boy back in Moscow.

It was finally time to get dressed, his favorite part of his game day routine. He threw on a crisp white button down with a burnt orange tie, one that stood out against the rich blue of his suit. He slipped his legs into the soft fabric of his dress pants, then his large arms into the sleeves of his jacket, he opted for sunglasses, one of his gold watches, and a spritz of his favorite cologne. Finally, he slipped his feet into his nice warm brown dress shoes and did up the button on his suit.

He let out a sigh, admiring his outfit and fixing a lock of hair that had fallen into his face. The floor length mirror across from his bed lit him up perfectly. He looked sharp and professional, the kind of look that seeps confidence. He loved dressing the part of a millionaire athlete, there was no denying that. He shuffled around his room, picking up his essentials before throwing them all into their respective places in his pockets. He was ahead of schedule today and feeling a little bit more antsy to go. He pulled his front door shut and locked it before spinning on his heel towards the elevator.

The only thing he disliked about his his large apartment was the parking. He took the elevator down into the labyrinth of a parking garage his building had, low ceilings and mess everywhere. They had construction going on for the past two weeks or so, mildly inconveniencing him quite a few times. He would walk along the barrier of the construction to his waiting car every game day, trying not to let all of this piss him off. He pulled his phone out to pick a song, one earbud in, trying to keep his mind on the game ahead. Suddenly, he brushed the chicken wire fence that was up to close off a good 15 parking spots. He heard a rip and some pressure on his arm, right near his shoulder. His hand flew to his shoulder, almost trying to save it from what already happened.

“Shit!” He exclaimed to no one in particular. His fingertips were in contact with a decent sized rip right on the seam of his sleeve, a little hole showing the white shirt underneath.

He untangled himself from the chicken wire, not wanting to pull any more fabric, before jogging up to his car window to examine the tear. Luckily, it looked like just the seam was torn, so hopefully it was an easy fix. He didn’t want to go back upstairs and plan an entirely new outfit, so he just got in the car and left the stupid parking garage. He knew he would get an earful from the guys and probably a go-around meme post on Instagram about the visible rip, but at this point he just wanted to leave and get ready for the game.

The drive was maybe fifteen minutes without traffic, but usually ended up being closer to 30. He spent most of that time mentally preparing with soft music playing on a normal day, but this whole ordeal left him brooding with displeasure about nearly ruining one of his favorite suits. He was first at the light on one of the corners that he always passed on this route, when he noticed a shop he had never noticed before.

It was a little shop right next to a corner store, a chalkboard sign out front reading Suits! Dresses! Tailoring! He perked up a little at the sight of a tailor, the rip on his shoulder almost taunting him. He pulled off the road, right into a parallel spot on the cross street, getting out and almost running up to the door of this place. It really did look unassuming from the outside, but inside was really glorious. A bell chimed as he stepped inside and took it all in.

There were bolts of fabric stacked up taller than him, and designs of beautiful dresses and suits scattered around on mannequins, amazing colors and patterns on full display. There was a small counter and a desk, catalogues and thick design books littering both tables. He could hear a few people talking somewhere in the back, or rather one person shouting numbers and the other repeating them.

“Just a second!” A voice echoed from somewhere behind the bolts of fabric.

A woman appeared from a back room, a tape measure hanging around her neck snd and a notebook in her hands, scribbling down numbers on the page. She was short (even though pretty much everyone was short to Nikita) and very pretty. She wore a nice blouse and a mid length skirt, all topped off with a pair of nicer looking heels. It almost caught him off guard, like he was blindsided by meeting someone so pretty on a normal work day.

“How can I help you?” She asked, looking up, then up again to meet his eyes.

“Hi, umm, I know this is a weird ask but I am almost late for work, and I accidentally ripped the seam of my sleeve. Would you be able to fix it quickly? If not, totally fine, I’ll just be on my way.” He explained, turning to show her the tear in his shoulder.

“I can do that! Do you have maybe 10-15 minutes?” She asked, his eyes falling to his watch to check. He would turn out to be right on time.

“I think so.” He murmured, taking his phone out of the inside pocket and the jacket fully off.

She took the jacket, giving it a once over, then opened a tub of spooled thread sitting on one of the tables not too far from where he stood. He watched her pull out a tray of blues, holding them up to the blue of his jacket, then replacing them till she found an almost perfect match to the rich navy. She threaded a needle with lightning speed and flipped the jacket inside out to pull the seam together and pin it, deciding it would be the fastest to just stand at the desk and hold the massive jacket in her hands.

She could see how the sleeves accommodated large corded muscles in his arms, and how well done the work was. Whoever made this suit certainly did an excellent job and took his measurements down to the millimeter. She let herself look up at him briefly, his attention now on a deep purple suit displayed in the corner.

He was larger than life and had a confidence about him that was hard to ignore. His frame was perfectly accentuated with the cut of his suit pants and the button down he wore. His hair was perfectly cut and his sunglasses were perfect for his handsome face. The scar running through his lip down to his chin gave him a tough, no bullshit kind of look that only added to his confidence. He had a great taste in cologne, the spicy warm scent wafting through her senses from having his jacket. Even his accent was like a deep, rich honey being pouring from his lips. She pictured him as a hit man, or a spy, or some sort of agent. Something fantastic.

Once the stitching was done, she took the jacket over to one of the many massive mirrors on the wall and flipped it back, looking closely at the seam to make sure it was straight. Nikita walked up behind her and she offered up the jacket.

“Try that, hopefully the seam sits straight on your shoulder.” She remarked, watching him slip his big arm through the sleeves and button it back up.

He turned in the mirror, running a large finger over where the rip once was, now perfectly hidden by a straight seam. It was like nothing ever happened to it. He cracked a smile and turned back to the woman, yanking on the hem of the jacket to straighten himself out.

“That’s perfect. How much do I owe you?” He asked, pulling out his wallet.

“Oh don’t worry about it! It was just a quick stitch!” She exclaimed, holding her hand up in a stop gesture when he tried to hand over a fifty dollar note.

“Really, I insist. You’re saving me a lot of embarrassment with my… coworkers.” He said, circumventing the fact that his coworkers are in fact teammates on the most famous sports team in the area.

“Honestly, it’s no big deal. I’m just glad you let me work on this amazing suit. Your tailor is a magician!” She joked, and he just smiled.

“What was your name? I’ll be sure to recommend you for any fixing my coworkers need done on their suits.” He said, grabbing a business card from the desk.

“My name is Y/N, but the people who own this place are Rob and Krista. Any of us would be happy to help!” She exclaimed.

“Great. I’m Nikita. It’s nice to meet you, but I have to run. Thanks for everything!”

He turned on his heel to leave, sending a gentle wave her way before picking up the pace back to his car. When she turned around, the 50 dollar note was sitting on the desk, inconspicuously next to the pile of business cards he grabbed from. She let out a chuckle and let the fantastical daydreams of secret agent Nikita fill her mind up as she pocketed the note.

“Who was that Y/N?” Rob asked, emerging from the back holding the plans for a custom gown he was making.

“He just needed a seam stitched, no big deal.” She muttered, and he hummed at the far of gleam in her eye.

<><><><>

2 - the outing

Nikita scored two goals and got an assist that night. He was on top of the world and couldn’t come down. When the final horn sounded he found himself thinking of Y/N, and how the blue thread she used must have weaved some luck into him.

After his post game shower and doing media he found himself back at his locker, pulling his suit back on to return home. His button up was on, no jacket or tie, and he was almost done loosely tying his right shoe so he could finally leave. Quinn and Brock were close by, chatting with each other about the game.

“Fuckin rights Z, what a game!” Brock exclaimed, clapping a hand on his back, “What’s with you huh? Where’d all that goal scoring energy come from?”

“Just a good night I guess, nothing too crazy.” He responded, a little reluctant to share why he truly thought he was finding the back of the net.

He stood, quickly going back over to the sink to give himself a once over before finally leaving. Out of curiosity, he flipped the seam of his jacket into the light of the mirror in front of him, eventually finding a section of the seam that was a slightly different color with two tiny knots at each end. He smiled to himself and flipped it back, throwing it over his arm. Quinn and Brock watched, also curious why Nikita was all of a sudden examining his jacket. The looked at each other with a shrug, and let it go.

~ two weeks later ~

The universe had a funny way of treating Nikita sometimes. JT Miller gave him a call, basically begging him for a tailor recommendation. He said that ‘nothing was fitting well’ and that ‘you should know Nikita, I’ve never seen you wear a bad outfit!’. He was absolutely happy to give JT the information, and he told him that he had a suit he needed to get fixed anyway. He didn’t, but he wanted an excuse to go see Y/N and try to thank her in a hopefully normal sounding way for giving him good luck. They made a plan for their next day off in two days.

“Ah, perfect…” Nikita muttered to himself, digging out a beige jacket that he had made years ago, one that had a ripped inner pocket, buttons missing, and a weird seam wrinkle that wouldn’t go away. He had been digging around in his massive closet for close to an hour, trying to find something to bring to the tailor so it didn’t look like he was acting as the peanut gallery for JT, and now Elias as well, who weaseled his way into their trip because of similar reasons to JT.

A knock sounded at his door, Petey and JT both with their suits wrapped up in bags. They were dressed casually. Nikita offered to drive them all, making sure to avoid the chicken wire fence despite being in a black t-shirt and shorts. The drive was short and easy, but his heart beating with a flutter of excitement made it slightly harder to focus.

The bell chimed in the doorway when they entered, the sound of people talking in the back filling the men’s ears. JT and Petey had a similar reaction to the state of the store as he did the first time, both of their mouths falling open in surprise.

“Welcome in, gentleman. What can we help you with today?” An older man stepped up to the counter, a confident smile making his crow’s feet appear.

“Hi! I believe we talked on the phone a few days ago about some repairs the three of us need done? My name is JT.” He said, shaking the man’s hand earnestly.

“Ah yes! We would be happy to help! Let me go grab the other two.” He said, retreating to the back again.

This time, Rob, Krista, and Y/N all came up front. Y/N hadn’t been expecting secret agent Nikita to be standing there. He offered a gentle wave, and she offered one back as Rob began consulting JT while Petey introduced himself to Krista.

“Back with friends I see! How did the seam turn out for you?” Y/N inquired, coming up close to him.

“Very well. It’s holding up perfectly so far.” He answered, letting his hand fall on top of the jacket folded over his arm, “I actually have another one I could use your help with.” He said, offering up the beige jacket.

“No problem! We should be able to get them done in a day or two-“

“We can get these done today for you gentleman! You are more than welcome to hang around, it shouldn’t be too long.” Rob announced to everyone.

Y/N was a little surprised at this. Rob wasn’t usually the type to cut out time for walkins when his plate was stacked high with custom orders. Krista also seemed unbothered. She had been working on a dress that was due to the client in two days before they all came in, which normally took precedent over whatever little fixes came and went.

“Are you sure Rob? Mrs. Fueller’s dress needs to be done soon?” Y/N asked under her breath as they walked out of earshot.

“I will gladly finish suits for Vancouver Canucks players same day Y/N, it would be insulting to our great hockey town to not!” He exclaimed jovially.

It all clicked for her then, why Nikita was in a rush and dressed so well. Why him and his friends were also so athletic looking. Nikita also heard, eyes going wide as his cover crumbled right in front of him. He wanted just a few more moments of bliss without the fanfare, selfishly. He offered a sheepish smile to her when she looked back at him, feeling a little caught despite not really doing anything wrong.

She retreated to get her kits, still holding onto the jacket. This one smelled faintly of that warm spicy scent she loved last time. This one would be a relatively quick fix like the last one. She took the space at the front desk so Rob and Krista could have the work spaces in the back. They called Petey and JT into the back work space, leaving Nikita to wander.

As she came back up front, she found Nikita in front of a dark green suit, pulling at the sleeve and rubbing the fabric between his fingers. He noticed her sit and turn the lamp on, laying his suit out on the smooth surface. He made his way back over to her, not resisting his urge to talk to her. His presence was strong and steady as he watched her rip the thread from the buttons left on the suit.

“I’m starting to think you’re clumsy, Mr. Canuck. Two suit coats in two weeks?” She joked, and he took a seat in the leather chair placed in front of the desk.

“I try not to be. I just like to be on my game with my suits y’know?” He answered, letting a twinge of guilt rip through him for not being totally honest about who he really was, “I’m sorry I wasn’t up front about who I was at first.”

“It’s ok, I understand. I’m sure you have people stopping you at every corner.” She answered as she pulled buttons out of their little plastic case.

“Not much of a hockey fan?” He asked.

“I grew up New Mexico, so there wasn’t much hockey around. Once I moved here I never totally caught on. But I like it when I see it! I know you guys have played well this season!” She explained.

He hummed in approval, “you should come see a game. It’s a lot of fun to see it live. I’ll even score a goal for you.” He joked, and she laughed along with him.

“Maybe I will.” She agreed, now moving on the inner pocket.

They continued to talk, just sharing about themselves and other light topics. He was absolutely endeared by her, her quick wit and personality shining through as they continued along. He learned that she moved to Vancouver for college and never left. This job was essentially dumped in her lap and it was too enjoyable to abandon. She could execute her favorite designs and get paid a decent wage.

Nikita’s coat was all wrapped up with all repairs made flawlessly, his old suit jacket returned to rights. He took it back, slipping a 100 dollar note into her kit when she tried to refuse him again. Now it was a waiting game for his teammates. He could see Petey with a tape measure in his armpit and JT looking through a few bolts of gray fabric; he guessed it would be a little while before they wrapped up. He perused the mannequins, taking note of the beautiful craftsmanship. He stopped at the double breasted dark green suit again, taking a good long look at it.

“I designed that one, y’know.” Y/N piped up, suddenly very close to him, making him want to reach out and touch her. He had a foot on her at least, her head reaching just above his sternum he guessed. He could smell the faint scent of sickly sweet flowers coming off of her, and instantly thought he would never smell anything better ever again.

“Really? It’s very impressive, something I would wear in a heartbeat…” he admired, then a lightbulb went off in his head, “I’m actually interested in buying some new suits, would you be willing to do them for me?” He asked.

“Absolutely Nikita. What kind of look do you like?” She responded, immediately interested.

“the style you saw on me the first day mostly. I think I want some color or something to give it a bit extra though.” He pondered, Y/N immediately beginning to swirl with ideas.

“Tell you what, I’ll set up an appointment with you and we can discuss it.” She offered, and he turned to her with a smile, “we can look through some catalogs and pick out some cool options.”

“Hmm, I would gladly take an appointment, but I don’t want a catalogue suit, I want what you think looks best,” He said confidently, “if you are ok with it, I would like to give you my number so if you see a pattern or inspiration you can tell me.”

Y/N’s heart dropped into her stomach, never to come out again. It was very, very rare that someone wanted anything other than an average suit, especially someone that seemed to be built for a nice suit like he was. Her mind lit up with a constellation of ideas.

“I-I would be honored.” She said, a little too stunned to say much else.

He smiled, making his way back to the desk for a business card and a stray blue pen. He jotted down his information on the back, handing it to her. She pocketed it, shoving it deep so there was no chance it fell out. JT and Petey made their way up front, now holding their suits plus some papers and fabric squares.

“All set Z?” Petey asked, and he nodded to the two men.

“We hope to see you all soon! Enjoy those jackets!” Rob said, waving as they made their way out the door, the little bell sounding as they exited the store

~*~

Rob and Krista returned to work on Mrs. Fueller’s dress, talking amongst themselves about how ‘nice those young men had been’ and how ‘you don’t see down to earth athletes like that anymore’. Y/N sat down at the desk gathering all of her supplies back into the kits. She smiled to herself at the 100 dollar note Nikita had left for her, making a mental note to scold him when she saw him next time.

There was a next time.

She fished the business card out of her pocket turning it over to reveal his neat, square handwriting.

Y/N,

Don’t share this with anyone! Hope to hear from you soon.

-Nikita Zadorov

XXX-XXX-XXX

She quickly put the number in her phone and saved it under secret agent Nikita before sending him a text.

Hi Nikita, it’s Y/N. Let me look at my schedule and we can put something on the books. I already have some ideas!

Not even ten minutes went by before a text buzzed from him

Sounds great. We leave for a week and a half tomorrow, but I should be available once we get back to Vancouver. Thanks for all of your help!

She sent off a thumbs up and a thank you before cleaning up her space to finish the last details on Mrs. Fueller’s dress. She imagined beautiful rich fabric and how it could lay on Nikita’s build, where to accentuate and where to bring in. There were seemingly endless options.

She couldn’t wait

<><><><>

3 - the fitting

During the week and a half the Canucks were on the road, Nikita found himself a little absorbed in talking to Y/N. They scheduled for a few days after the Canucks returned to Vancouver, and he couldn’t stop the flutter of excitement he felt when he thought about seeing Y/N again.

She started to send him photos of chic magazines, ones that had borderline eccentric suits, which she promised she would dial back but she ‘saw lots of potential’ in them. She sent him pictures of bolts of fabric, which he eventually just FaceTimed her to see. She was in the middle of a massive fabric store, dressed in a hoodie from what he could tell, which for some reason was endearing to him.

Y/N was very surprised by the FaceTime, but picked up anyway after the second ring, as it would give her an opportunity to hear his honey laden accent. He looked to be in a hotel gym, lightly huffing and trying to dry his damp forehead off with a towel. His hair was undone and falling in his face, and he was close enough to the camera that she could see the light dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks. A domestic thought of doing this all the time flashed through her mind before she stamped it out.

“What do you think of doing something in this?” She asked, flipping the camera to show off a beautiful deep green.

“I like that a lot, I have a couple of green suits so maybe red? Or purple?” He inquired.

“Now we’re talking. I’ll get back to you ok? I’ll find the best red and purple I can.” She promised, which made him smile.

“I’m holding you to it.” He said, then a faint ‘come on Z food’s here’ sounded of in the background, “I have to go, but we’ll talk soon!”

“Ok Z, have a good night! Good luck for the game!” She said

He sent a wink into the camera, “will do Y/N.” Then ended the call.

Y/N couldn’t help the butterflies that erupted in her stomach as she played that wink over and over again. He was just so nice and confident (not to mention handsome), all while trusting her to deliver something great. She perused the bolts some more, finding a luxurious maroon and a dark purple that looked almost black. She bought them both and returned to the shop to place them in the pile that was forming for Nikita’s appointment.

They kept texting. Not even about suits or fabric or accessories, just casual conversation. He would text her before games, after games, late at night when he should have been sleeping. He imagined her cuddled up on the couch in a soft t-shirt with snacks and a movie on, or at the shop with her cute heels on and hair all styled, answering his texts with a smile and a giggle when he said something funny. They didn’t really talk about hockey either, outside of an occasional question about the rules or a funny story from Russia, which was refreshing for him.

Y/N had done her own digging (for research purposes of course) and fallen into a hole of stalking his socials. She had watched a heavy hit compilation of him on YouTube, and couldn’t believe that the one she met and the one knocking people into the next year were the same person. She watched one of his away games, against the Seattle Kraken, finding herself invested in the play going on and feeling that twinge of excitement when the camera found Nikita every once in a while.

It was days and days of sweet conversation and thinking about each other when they weren’t talking. Multiple teammates of Nikita’s were giving him shit for always being on the phone, but he felt like he couldn’t help it. It lit him up inside to see Y/N’s contact flash across the screen. She was so witty and kind, not to mention beautiful. She even began to cross his mind when he was alone in the hotel room.

The day finally came. His appointment was at noon, so he prepared a little early and stopped for coffee, also grabbing Y/N’s order as a little surprise. He felt like he needed to show his appreciation for the wonderful couple of weeks he had. The familiar bell chime went off as he opened the shop door, this time no bickering voices, just faint music coming from the back. Y/N walked up front to meet him, cracking the smile she had been waiting to crack since he asked her what her favorite color was over a week and a half ago. He handed her the coffee he was holding and offered a friendly side hug.

“Oh! You really didn’t have to, but thank you! Always full of surprises.” She remarked, setting down the coffee.

“Hey, what can I say. We’re gonna need all the caffeine we can get.” He said, then looked around to find no Rob or Krista, “where is everyone?”

“Rob and Krista decided to take a vacation in Italy, they’re gone for another week, so you’re stuck with me by myself I’m afraid.” She explained, grabbing a book from the corner to set out.

He perked up a little unintentionally at that news. The thought of the two of them together like this felt eerily similar to just, hanging out, and not an actual business deal being done by two professionals. He had been waiting for the appointment like it was a scheduled hang out for fucks sake.

“So first I’m thinking we get your measurements, then talk about what you want to see, and see where it takes us?” She offered, and he nodded, “great, if you don’t mind coming over here under the light so I can see you.”

He was dressed in a t shirt and shorts again, hopefully something that would make it easy for her to get good numbers. She had a little lawyer pad and a pencil, along with a tape measure ready to use in the other hand.

“Just stand normally and relax, I’m gonna work from the bottom up.” She noted and Nikita relaxed his stance.

She began, quickly pulling the tape measure around his ankles, jotting down numbers then moving up. She measured his calves, then knees, then thighs at their thickest, then the outside seam from hip to ankle. Nikita was trying to focus on anything but her touching him, literally anything but her skilled fingers pulling the tape measure taught around him. She finally measured his inseam, going from his groin to the inside of his ankle, then the other side, all before popping up and writing the last numbers down.

He was so, so still. He felt like if he moved he would shatter like glass under her touch. He was barely breathing. She moved to his hips, then waist, then from his armpit to hip. She wrapped the tape measure around his chest, the metal tag hitting him dead center, and she took the number. He wondered if she could feel his heart rattling his rib cage under her hand.

She pulled a block out from the corner to stand on, giving Nikita a moment to breathe and relax. She started on his arms, taking his wrists, biceps, and shoulder width, then from shoulder to wrist. Finally, she wrapped the tape measure around his neck. His pulse quickened at her closeness, and all he could think about was her breath fanning over his collarbone while she leaned in to read the number.

“Ok… that’s the last number…” she murmured, letting the tape measure fall loose around his neck, “wanna sit down to talk about what you’re thinking design wise?”

“Y-yeah, let’s do that.” He said, letting out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

She directed him to the seat around the front of the desk. She grabbed her pre-cut fabric squares in maroon, dark purple, and a sage green with silver detailing woven in. She grabbed her organizer of buttons and other accessories, and the magazines she had compiled since they began texting. She had tabs sticking out of each one, the magazines resembling annotated homework more than catalogs. She stuck them all on the desk, then sat.

He leaned back to accommodate his size in the seemingly too small chair, his knees bent up at a slight angle and his arms resting beside him. To a passerby it might look like an interrogation if they didn’t know any better. It was like he took up as much space physically as he did mentally for her.

“So, I showed you the fabrics I liked best over our call, but I wanted you to feel them and decide for yourself if you like them.” She started, handing him the fabric squares that he pinched between his fingers, one by one.

“The purple and the maroon are great, and I like that you went for a lighter green. I think three suits is a good amount for now, so let’s stick with these.” He explained.

“I thought the same, so we’ll go with those.” She set aside three piles, with one fabric square per pile, “I love to see double breasted suits, and they look great on you, so I was thinking about making the purple fabric double breasted with these buttons.” She pulled out gold buttons that were adorned with little flowers, very much like an old wax seal, “they’re vintage, and I think they fit the style nicely.”

He nodded, and let her take them back to set in their own pile with the purple fabric square.

“I think since the maroon is a little more adventurous we could try a strap closure in the front, it’s one of the more chic styles coming out of fashion recently.” She explained further, flipping to a saved page in one of the magazines where the model had a suit that was closed with a slim gold buckle and a strap across the waist. He had never considered something like that before, but he could see Y/N’s vision coming to life, so he agreed.

“And for the green I think a couple of buttons and a nice fit will do the fabric plenty of justice.” She said, holding up the green fabric square.

“This is all perfect Y/N.” He said, looking over the three piles in front of them, “what can I expect in terms of time?”

“I have one quick project before you, but I would say around a month for everything? Rob and Krista gave me permission to take on just your project after my other project is done.” She said, taking a glance at the calendar on her desk.

“That’s perfect for me, don’t rush on my account, I’m a very patient man.” He said with a sly smile, and she just laughed, the clearest most lovely laugh he could have imagined.

“We’ll plan on it then.” She whispered, seconds going by before she looked away from his eyes.

They both stood, Nikita reaching out to shake her hand once she came around the desk within arms reach of him. He pulled her in for a brief hug, as if to say ‘we’re past all the pleasantries’. Something was shifting in the air, between them.

“Um, I really wanted to thank you, for the trust. This project is a big deal for me.” She murmured.

“It’s an honor for me to own such a brilliant collection.” He assured, letting her go after one final pat on the shoulder, “I can’t wait for a month from now.”

“I can’t either.”

<><><><>

+1 - the gifting

Right on schedule, Y/N had all three pieces done in a month. She stayed up late and got up early quite a few times simply because she was inspired to finish. Everything, down to the very last stitch, was perfect. She thought of making replicas to save for a future fashion magazine.

Nikita and Y/N continued to talk, a lot. He found himself texting her anytime he thought something was funny, or interesting, or really any sort of thing that he thought she would like. When he was home, he would drop coffee off to her, and she would try to hide his suits from his curious eye. Each time he did, it would end with a hug and a promise to talk soon.

She ended up calling him one afternoon extremely frustrated. Her dishwasher started to make a funny noise and her landlord wouldn’t pick up, and he happily came over to help her, fixing it in a mere hour. They spent the whole evening tucked in a private corner of her favorite restaurant, her treat, as a thank you.

One night, on a rare off day on the road, she picked up another FaceTime call from him, and they talked into the early hours. He wanted to hear her voice all he could, and play her pretty laugh on repeat. They waded a little deeper beyond light banter, and they both shared personal things, and tried to be encouraging. Nikita admitted that NHL life could be lonely without anyone to share it with, especially since his ex moved on, but he was trying his best to enjoy every minute with his teammates. Y/N hoped she could give him a little peace in that way; be an avenue for him to take when the nights got a little too lonely. When they signed off, Nikita found himself biting back an ‘I miss you’.

He was on a road trip for a couple of days after his suits being finished, so they planned on meeting up at the shop on his next off day, which happened to be the day after the Canucks returned from a very successful 3-0 road trip.

Y/N had secretly been watching his games from the privacy of her apartment, cheering on the Canucks of course, but especially Nikita. She watched all of his media availability, and laughed at all of his witty replies. He was witty with her too, but from a different place. She knew he wasn’t trying to be smart with her, he just wanted her to laugh.

She had been waiting so long to see him, and today was finally the day.

She got up late morning, the sun already decently high. She decided this day was a hair down kind of day, so she brushed and lightly curled the ends. She threw on her favorite green dress with built in cups, and a black cardigan over the top, pairing everything with black heels. She threw on a light dusting of makeup and some perfume to finish everything off.

She made her way into the shop, not noticing the dark clouds rolling in behind her as she pulled each suit off the rack and placed them in very nice suit bags. The plan was to meet Nikita at 4pm, then get dinner after. When she turned back towards the front of the store, the sky was much darker and big raindrops were gliding down the windows. The storm got heavy very quickly, the wind whipping sheets of rain into the side of the building. Normally Y/N would find this kind of weather relaxing, something that would warrant comfy clothes and a cup of tea, but she had Nikita to wait for, and the more it rained the more she got worried about her plans for the day.

She was suddenly bathed in darkness as the power flickered and shut off completely. The light coming from outside was dim at best, and the rain only seemed to pelt the glass harder. She felt her heart sink. There was no way she could work on anything, let alone meet Nikita and give him his suits.

Right on cue, special agent Nikita flashed across her phone. She picked it up and tried to smooth over her frustrated tone. Despite being frustrated, she was tremendously relieved.

“Y/N, are you ok?” Nikita asked, hearing the rain in the background.

“Yeah, yeah, I think I’ll be ok, I just have to be careful getting home and we can reschedule, ok?” She asked, the defeat weighing down her last few words. She thought of her shit box sedan, probably floating down the flooded street by now.

“What’s happening over there?” He inquired, it couldn’t be that bad, right?

“Uh, the power’s out and the street is flooded out front, I’m not going to make you come over here Nikita.” She argued, “the roads are dangerous as it is.”

“Im coming to get you, just relax and I’ll be there soon.” He said, the determination in his voice rocking her a little bit.

“It’s really not safe right now! Don’t worry about me I’ll just wait it out.” She tried to reason, but she was cut off with a ‘no, no, no, stop.”.

“I’m not letting you sit there in the dark Y/N, I have an SUV I’ll be fine. Just sit tight and I’ll be there soon.” He pushed, and quickly hung up so she couldn’t try to deter him any more.

Not even fifteen minutes later, a black SUV swung up into the spot right in front of the door, Nikita running to the door with his arm up over his eyes. He threw the door open and pulled it closed, water gathering on the floor in front of him.

“You ok?” He asked.

“Yeah I’m good, it’s just dark.” She laughed, gesturing to the flashlight on her phone illuminating them.

“Good, let’s get the suits and get out of here.” He said, stepping back to the door to wait for her.

She first slung her purse over her shoulder and grabbed her keys from the desk. Then she grabbed all three garment bags, tucking them into her cardigan before folding it over her body like a disgruntled teacher. He pushed the door open as soon as she was by his side, fighting the wind and big drops. He stuck his arm out, using his big body to try and shield her as much as he could. He hit the hatch button on his key fob and she ran as quickly as her heels would allow on the flooded sidewalk, laying the bags down flat in his trunk before hitting the button to close them in safely. She made the quick shuffle to the passenger seat, shutting the door with an aggressive thud.

Nikita and Y/N both let out a breath. She hoped they would both make it out without getting too wet, but it was no use. She was soaked, her nicely curled hair now a damp mess, her cardigan and dress soaked on top. Nikita’s sweatshirt and hair were also soaked, him taking the hem of his sweatshirt to wipe his dripping forehead.

“So I was thinking we could go to my place, but if not I’ll take you home..?” He suggested, and she nodded after a beat.

“We can go to yours, I want to show you the suits.” She said, and he pulled out of the parking spot with a nod.

The road was absolutely drenched, so the drive home was slower, but nothing his SUV couldn’t handle. Nikita wordlessly turned on her heated seat, hoping to combat the shivers she developed as the minutes ticked on. He felt really bad about her getting rained on, but he couldn’t in good conscience leave her to drive home that shit box sedan or sit in the dark studio all day till the rain stopped. He was so relieved when the entrance to his building’s parking garage came into view. He parked in his spot, getting out first and grabbing the garment bags out of the back. Y/N brushed her wet hair out of her face in the mirror before opening her door and hopping out.

They made their way inside the elevator, side by side, until it arrived at his floor. He opened the door and let her in first, extending his hand in a come in motion. His apartment was nothing short of amazing. The space was large and open with a beautiful kitchen, plus large windows that overlooked Vancouver. The room was decorated exactly how she pictured, lots of sleek neutrals and modern details. He had a massive sectional sofa, with a huge tv and an electronic fireplace right underneath. He had a sliding glass door that lead out to a lovely balcony that housed a couple of plants and Adirondack chairs.

They could see the rain still coming down hard against the glass, with no signs of stopping any time soon. Across from the open living space was a large hallway that she assumed led to his bedrooms and bathrooms and any other extra space he had.

Y/N bent and grabbed a hold of one heel, sliding it off, then the other, then tucked them into the mat where a lot of his shoes sat near the door. Her heels were covered in water stains and grime from the dirty sidewalk, so she figured it would be better to leave them there for now. Nikita set the garment bags over the arm of his massive cushy sofa sectional before he meandered into the kitchen, pulling out two mugs and setting some water to boil. Without heels on, she fell right below his sternum, and it was now even more glaringly obvious how wide their size difference was.

“What kind of tea do you like Y/N? I have mint, camomile, and some sort of spicy-orangey one.” He asked from around the corner.

“Spicy orangey sounds good.” She joked, finally walking into the kitchen where he was pulling a little box out of one of the higher cabinets, “I never took you as a hot tea kind of guy.”

“I like it sometimes. Nathan MacKinnon said I should try it when I can’t sleep before taking melatonin, and he was kind of right.” He laughed at the memory, “the Dogg is always right when it comes to what you eat and drink.”

“Hey, if it works it works.” She remarked as he handed her a perfectly warm mug of tea.

They sat quietly for a minute, letting the warm liquid warm them up a little further. The sound of the rain outside was much more soothing in the comfort of his apartment. Y/N hadn’t realized how deep the chill had gotten from her still too wet cardigan and hair. He looked at her for a moment, realizing she was still shivering a little and damp. Once both of their teas were done, he grabbed the mugs and turned them in the sink.

“You should take that cardigan off, you’re going to catch a cold,” he said matter of factly, “I’m sure I have something you can wear if you want.”

She shrugged it off, and Nikita took a hold of it and turned on the electronic fireplace, putting it next to the slowly building warmth. He turned to the garment bags, and picked them up carefully, nodding his head towards the hallway.

“My closet’s down here, I want to see in the mirror.” He said.

At the end of the hallway was his room, decorated similarly to the rest of his living space. The bed was underneath the window on the opposite side of the door, a nice long ottoman chest sitting at the foot of his bed, the kind that had a cushioned top to sit on like a bench. Across from the bed was an absolutely massive ceiling to floor mirror that was backlit with soft white light, making it easy to see. There was a connecting door to the bathroom, and another door that seemed to be a walk in closet, absolutely filled to the brim with suits. Her jaw fell to the floor at the sight of all of this tailoring genius in front of her, and they were about to add three more to his amazing collection. She continued to look around while he slipped into the closet.

“What do you want to see first Y/N?” He asked, separating out the bags and hanging them on the closet door. He had thrown on a nice white button down and a black tie on, just to make sure he was doing the suits true justice. He kept his shorts on, creating a very interesting sight

“Hmm, the green one?” She asked, and he nodded, turning on his heel to take the green suit into the bathroom.

She took a seat on the ottoman chest, waiting patiently for him. He returned, pulling on the sleeves and adjusting the jacket on his frame. The green complimented him so well, and the cut hit him in the perfect spot on his hips to make him look muscular and fitted. The pants perfectly accentuated his thick thighs. He turned to the massive mirror, taking a quick once over before turning back to Y/N, who’s jaw was on the floor again.

“I don’t think that could fit you any better.” She said, and he laughed.

“Well, you took the measurements, I knew it was going to be perfect.” He responded, “ok, what next?”

“Do the purple one, the last one is going to surprise you.” She said, and he obliged, of course.

After another few minutes in the bathroom, he re-emerged, the velvety purple showing up almost black with the gorgeous vintage gold buttons holding it all together. The suit, again, was cut perfectly, showing off his physique. He turned, looking at the fit and the buttons, all before turning to Y/N once again.

“I think you were made for the double breasted suit.” She admitted, and he gave her a wide smile and a dorky little spin.

“I love the color, it’s so deep.” He said, again turning to go back to the bathroom with the maroon suit in hand.

Now this one, she wasn’t entirely sure about how he was going to feel. The buckled closure was new for his wardrobe, but she had faith that he would embrace it. While he was in the bathroom, she stood from her spot and looked inside his closet, wanting to grasp the full picture of his collection. His closet felt like it continued on for miles. She heard the door open, and turned to see Nikita messing with the closure.

“Can you help me close it?” He asked, and she took a moment to look at him.

The maroon of the suit was perfect for his skin tone, and the fit, again, looked perfect. the clasp that closed the jacket was a delicate gold, something that would fit with his usual accessories. The fabric tie that he would attach to the buckle seemed to be jammed a little, very easy to fix. She grabbed the tie, pulling it gently so it would slide out again, and grabbed the buckle with her other hand, slowly snaking the piece in and looping the pieces together.

Nikita’s brain shut off. She was so close to him, smelling like rain and sickly sweet flowers, with her hair now falling in messy locks from being wet. Flashes of every moment they spent together, through the phone or not, spun through his mind. He thought about the dinner they had, and how pretty she looked, and how hard they laughed. In this moment she looked beyond beautiful in her dress, the freckles on her shoulders standing out. His arms were at his side but he so desperately wanted to reach up and touch her.

So he did.

He ghosted his hands over her bare arms, up her shoulders, and placed them on the sides of her neck. She looked up at him, her gaze finding his. She didn’t look apprehensive at all, in fact there was a glimmer in her eye that he had never seen before.

“What?” She murmured, keeping their eyes locked.

His thumb grazed her jaw, keeping a slow, feathery pace, “nothing, I just wish this would happen every day.”

“Trying on new suits?” She wondered, even though she knew that wasn’t it.

He leaned down, almost to her lips, “No, having you here to help me.” He murmured, “I want you here all the time. I’ve dreamed of having you here with me.”

That was all she needed. She met him the rest of the way, standing on her tiptoes to reach his lips. Their kiss was all consuming, encapsulating every feeling they both felt over the last few months, but were never able to say. He felt so soft against her, his hands remaining on her neck while hers slid around his waist. She pulled back, Nikita chasing her lips as she broke away. She looked at him for a minute with a soft, twinkling look on her face, Nikita deciding he never wanted to see her look any other way.

“C’mere.” He said, pulling her back in.

He kissed her deeper, his tongue dancing over her bottom lip so she would open up. She did, willingly, the both of them melting into each other’s embrace. One hand snaked back into her hair, the other sliding down and across her back. Her hands crawled up his arms, holding onto the soft fabric of his suit jacket.

He tightened his hold on her hair, kissing across her cheek and down her pretty neck. She let out a soft moan, her lips sitting on the shell of his ear. He wanted to bottle up that sound and keep it forever.

As he mouthed at her collarbone, he took a step, then another, till they were standing in front of his ottoman chest, the mirror right across from them. He sat down, finding her lips again. He reached up and pulled on the knot in his tie just a little loose, giving him more room to move. Their kiss was growing hungrier, his need to feel her growing stronger with every move. Her hands found his hair, fingers carding through his soft locks.

He grabbed at her waist, pulling her flush with him between his thick thighs. She began trailing kisses down his neck, or what she could reach with his stiff collar in the way. He opened his eyes, just for a moment, and watched her squirm under his touch in the mirror. He could see his own pupils darken at the thought of watching her.

“Nikita..” she groaned, “please.”

“What is it baby?” He asked, letting his hands wander to the sides of her breasts.

“I, I just want you.” She said, placing a desperate kiss on the corner of his mouth, “can we go to bed?” Grabbing his hands to pull him up.

“No, wait,” he said, using the hand that she was holding to turn her around, “right here.”

Y/N and Nikita looked like a work of art together in that mirror. Her hair was tousled and messy, falling down to one side while he kissed and sucked at her shoulder, moving the thin strap of her dress down her arm with one hand and caressing her head with the other. The maroon of his suit and her green dress accented the other perfectly. She could see her nipples beginning to pebble under the built in cups of her dress, making her look beyond sultry in his arms. The most striking piece was how much bigger he was than her.

He moved his hands again, bringing them to her waist, then the sides of her breasts, then over them on top of the dress. He gave them a gentle squeeze, working a moan out of her throat. He kneaded her softly, then reached into the soft fabric, pulling her tits out over the top of the dress. He rolled her nipples in his fingers, making her shudder and arch in his grip.

“God you’re so beautiful,” he murmured in her ear, watching her eyelids squeeze shut at all of the sensations, “I thought about you like this, all sweet and pliant under my touch.”

“Shit, N-Nikita.” She panted, coming down to fully sit in his lap and grasp at his arms. She could feel his bulge growing in his nice new suit pants, and whimpered at the feeling.

“Do you like that? When I touch you like that?” He egged on, wanting to hear her say it.

“Ah.. yes, yes I love it.” She sighed out.

He shifted one arm over to play with her nipples and hold her up while his other hand reached for the hem of her dress, slowly pulling it up till he could see her panties. He almost died at the sight. He could see how spun up she had gotten just from kissing and touching her.

“Shit, look at you.” He said, cupping her pussy with his massive hand, “all wet from a few touches.”

“Only for you.” she admitted, letting him take control of the whole situation. She leaned her head back onto his shoulder and gazed at the ceiling.

He reached into her panties, letting his fingers graze over her wet lips, before slowly pulling her panties down and off. He grabbed her by the waist and shifted her back so she was fully seated, throwing her legs over the outsides of his. She was fully exposed to the mirror, and all of his ministrations were on display. He ran two fingers through her wetness before sinking them into her pussy, agonizingly slow. He began to make a come here motion, letting his thumb circle her clit. The sound of her arousal filled the room, and she couldn’t help the moans that tumbled out of her mouth as Nikita dragged his fingers over her sensitive walls.

She worked her hand into his hair behind her, the other coming to cover his as he worked on her. He placed kisses on her temple and neck as he slowly worked more sounds out of her, her movement working him up underneath his suit pants. Every sigh and gasp in his ear, every time her grip tightened on his hair, every grind of her hips against him, was heaven. Every inch of her was perfect for him, and he got to watch it all unravel right in front of him.

“God I’m s-so close, please!” She gasped, her pussy tightening around him.

“Go ahead baby, take what you need.” He encouraged, “cum all over my fingers.”

His words were like magic. She came all around him, her legs clamping down around his and her fingers tightening in his hair. He kept gently moving his fingers inside her, the waves of delicious pleasure washing over her. His eyes never dropped from the mirror.

Once her orgasm ebbed, she grabbed his wrist and moved his hand away from her oversensitive bundle. He brought his soaking fingers to his mouth, sucking her juices off of his fingers with an ‘mmm’. She grabbed his hand and kissed his palm, letting herself catch her breath while she tasted her essence on him.

She was very, very aware of his hard dick pressing against her; with every shift he would groan. His hands found her waist again, gently lifting her out of her seat so there was enough room for him to unzip his pants and bring them down just enough for his cock to spring free. She started to turn and sink down on her knees but he stopped her, pulling her back up.

“Maybe later, I wanna be inside you.” He stated bluntly.

“What about your suit?” She asked, running her hands along the fabric, “you haven’t even worn it out yet.”

“I’ll take it to the dry cleaners if we make that much of a mess. All I’m worried about is you.” He said giving her hand a kiss. “Where do you want to be baby?”

“Right here, I liked how we were.” She admitted, climbing back onto his lap with her legs bent on either side of him, facing the mirror.

She was spread open and on display for them again, this time his cock was painfully hard resting against her back. He took her hips in his hand, pulling her up while she grabbed a hold of him, giving him a couple of pumps before lining him up with her. She took it slow, settling down inch by inch. She sank down till she was fully seated in his lap, being practically split open. She moaned out a breath, giving them both a moment to adjust to the feeling.

For Nikita, it felt like coming home. She was so tight and warm and all enveloping. He wanted to stay that way forever, close to her with the perfect view. He let a hand ghost over her stomach, a touch that ended up feeling comforting to her.

“You ok?” He asked in her ear, laying a kiss on it.

“Y-yeah, you’re just really big.” She admitted, making him chuckle. “Feels so good..”

“Good, baby.” He reassured.

After another moment, she pulled up, then sat back down, starting a deep slow pace. She put her head back on his shoulder, letting pretty moans tumble out just like before. Nikita’s hands were everywhere, her stomach, thighs, tits, waist, all of her. Every nerve in his body was on fire. He looked at the scene before him in the mirror, watching himself disappear into her tight heat. He had never seen something so hot, it was a miracle he was even able to utter a word in English.

“Fuck, baby, look how pretty you are.” He whispered, bringing his hand into her hair again, “watch with me.”

She looked up, as mesmerized by the two of them as he was, “s-shit, you’re taking me so well, baby. Keep fucking me like that.” He mumbled, watching her bite down on her lip.

She watched him slide into her, feeling him deep inside while she took him at her own pace. She watched her tits bounce as his hands came up to meet them, rubbing her nipples to add some more sensation. Her thighs began to burn and her legs were shaking, both from the stimulation and the effort. She was trying her best to keep pace, but she was losing rhythm.

“Nikita.. please.” She asked, grabbing his hands and sliding them down to her hips, where he squeezed.

“Oh, do you want some help baby?” He whispered, earning a nod from her, “that’s ok baby, relax and I’ll help.”

He began lifting her and setting her back down, keeping his hands firmly planted on her hips as he guided her body. He set a slightly faster pace, one that would keep winding them up without hurting her. Their moans were getting louder and higher, and he could feel her pussy squeezing around him.

“Oh fuck Nikita I’m so close! Keep going!” She moaned out, one hand coming to play with her puffy clit.

“That’s it baby, feel good for me, cum all over me”. He rambled, his breath growing ragged as he felt his orgasm approaching, “I wanna see you come all over my cock, make a mess.”

The last few strokes with her pussy basically holding him in a vice pushed him over the edge; he came deep inside her with a loud moan. the feeling of him unraveling sent her into her very own. Her orgasm practically ignited her whole body, her vision exploding with stars. He kept the pace up, even if she wasn’t using any strength anymore. The waves kept crashing over her, high pitched whimpers escaping her. She kept rubbing her clit, teetering on the edge of overstimulated until Nikita set her down on his cock, letting her hips go. He ghosted his hand over her waist again, laying little comforting kisses on all of the skin he could reach. The comedown was slow, like floating feathers in the air. The only sounds left were their breathing and the gentle pattering of the rain outside. The sun had set not too long ago, so the room was dark except for the halo lights around his mirror.

“Fuck baby, that was the hottest thing I have ever seen.” He painted, “…you ok?”

“..yeah, t-that was amazing.” She said, turning her head to capture his lips in a soft, tired kiss.

“I didn’t hurt you did I?” He asked, and she shook her head no, but not before nikita’s eyebrows rose in realization, “shit, we didn’t use protection-“

“It’s ok Nikita, I’m on birth control and I’m clean, I trust you…” she said, and a small shift in their position made her wince. Her hips and thighs were beginning to ache with soreness from the open position, “as much as I like feeling full, I really need to move.”

“Of course, let me help.” He obliged, grabbing her hips one more time, sliding her off his cock so she was able to close her legs in front of him, “what would you say to a quick shower, then relaxing in bed?”

“Mm, I could be persuaded.” She giggled, letting him finally stand up.

His lap was a wet, creamy mess of both of them, but it wasn’t so bad that he would be shunned from every dry cleaner in Vancouver. He would just wash off the incriminating stuff and wet his new suit pants a little and say he accidentally dropped them during the rain storm. They both made their way to the massive bathroom, pulling off their clothes. The shower they took was strangely the most wholesome part of the night, both of them taking turns washing each other while they had soft conversation. They gave each other sweet kisses, and laughed at the couple of hickeys that adorned the both of them.

Nikita shut off the water and reached for his fluffiest towel, wrapping it around her with a kiss on her nose. They dried off, him finding a stretched out old shirt for her to wear for the rest of the evening, while he picked new boxers and an old tee as well. He picked up her panties and handed them to her, then leaned up over the bed to crack the window, the soft sound of rain and the cool breeze wafting through. He reached down bringing his comforter and sheets down the bed and sprawled out on top. She joined him on the other side. She snuggled up to his chest and he began tracing soft patterns on her back, his other hand falling to the ditch of her knee as she crossed her leg over his lap. A loud growl erupted from his stomach, and they both laughed. They accidentally skipped dinner all together.

“You wore me out, you minx.” He joked, earning a slap to the chest, “want to order in?”

“Sounds delicious!” She exclaimed, Nikita fishing for his phone on the table beside him, “hey, Nikita?”

“Yes baby?” He responded, looking away from the online menu to her.

“Thank you, for being so amazing,” she muttered, “for being there for me and taking care of me, I guess.”

“Oh, baby,” he said, leaning down for a chaste kiss, “you’re the amazing one, I’ve been dying to ask you out since you fixed the seam on my jacket,”

“Really? That long huh?” She teased, and he laughed along with her.

“As long as it took to make you mine.” He admitted, her heart fluttering at his words.

“Does that mean you’re officially asking me out Mr. Zadorov?” She giggled, making his cheeks turn red with blush.

“And if I was, would you say yes?” He whispered.

“One hundred times over.”

<><><><>

#nikita zadorov #nikita zadorov imagine #nikita zadorov fic #vancouver canucks #vancouver canucks fic #vancouver canucks imagine #nhl rpf #hockey fic #t’s imagines #nhl x reader #nhl fic #yall I am so down bad for him #I've liked him since he was on the Avs he deserves more love #boston bruins #boston bruins imagine #boston bruins fic

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feralwritings · 10 days ago

Text

dissonance

part four

words: 5.7k

masterpost

taglist: @cam-peggio @mewchiili

Las Vegas

When Eddie sees her and Chrissy power walking through the casino, obviously having come from their rooms, looking perturbed, clad in only their pajamas, he’s immediately worried. They’ve only been here for a few days, the show is this weekend, there is no possible way that something went wrong already.

“Fold,” he says to the dealer at the poker table, and without a second thought to his chips or what may happen to them, he gets up to follow them.

Once he catches up to them, Reader’s bent over her phone, thumbs typing rapidly across the screen as Chrissy watches anxiously. It’s clear that she was interrupted during her skincare routine, with a fluffy headband still on her head and a few streaks of a face mask on her jaw.

“What’s going on?” He asks, and they startle so bad that they nearly jump out of their slippers.

“Jesus Christ!” Reader squeaks, hand flying to press against her chest, “Fuck, warn me next time.”

“Sorry,” He amends quickly, searching her face, “What’s going on, though? You look worried.”

She fixes him with a long look before extricating her phone, showing it to him, “Robin and Nance dropped a pin and told me to come get them, which is, like, really terrifying considering they stopped responding ten minutes ago. So, we’re heading out now.”

Eddie nods, “I’ll go with you-”

Chrissy stiffens, “Oh, you don’t have to do that, I’m sure everything’s fine-”

Eddie looks at her, “I’m not letting you go alone.”

Reader rolls her eyes, “We don’t have time to argue about this. I’ve already called the Uber, it's out front.”

Together, the three of them march out of the casino doors, searching wildly for a black sedan driven by a guy named Tony. The problem is, there’s nothing but black sedans in front of the casino, and so they jog to several in turn before finding Tony, a white guy in his 80s whose car smells like lemons.

One after another, they pile in, Reader squished between Eddie and Chrissy, leaning forward to talk to Tony.

“Hi,” She holds out her phone, “Do you know where this is?”

Tony leans back from the phone, looking at it through the bottom of his bifocals, before having to pull out his readers.

“Oh, yes, I know where that is. Just send the address to the app, I’ll get ya there, Sugar, no problem.”

Reader sighs in relief, typing the info into the app and resting back against the seat, “Okay, thank you so much.”

She’s texting Robin again, all caps lock WHERE ARE YOU ARE YOU OKAY WHAT’S GOING ON and her leg is bouncing so rapidly that the entire car shakes with it. Chrissy’s in conversation with Tony, and Eddie’s looking out of the window, hoping to ascertain any sort of information based solely on landmarks.

They’re about a mile off the strip when the ride comes to an end, Tony stopping the car near some nondescript curb.

Eddie sees it first, and the knot in his chest dissipates entirely.

“Oh, my God,” He laughs, the neon lights from the building reflecting off of his face, bathing it in hues of rainbow.

“What?” Reader asks, leaning across him to look out of the window. She sees it too, she lets her head fall against the window, closing her eyes and shaking with relief.

It’s a chapel.

Robin and Nancy are standing in the ornate walkway, holding hands and giggling madly as everyone disembarks the car.

“Surprise!” Robin giggles, “Sorry, but we wanted it to be a surprise so we couldn’t give you much information-”

“You bitches,” Reader sighs, throwing her arms around them both, “I thought you guys were being kidnapped or trafficked or held hostage or something.”

Chrissy has joined the hug, and all four girls have descended into giggles and conversation, while Eddie stands awkwardly off to the side, waiting to be noticed. Tony hasn’t even left yet, his window is rolled down and he’s watching the entire exchange rather warmly.

Robin finally spots Eddie, and raises an eyebrow, “Oh, hi.”

Eddie waves, and Reader glances over her shoulder, “It’s cool, he came with us to be the macho protective man of the situation in case shit was going south.”

Nancy snorts, “The more the merrier. The rest of the guys can come, if you want. We should probably get our money’s worth, since we…spent a lot of it.”

“How much?” Chrissy asks, glancing at the chapel. It’s not huge but isn’t too little, a nice little area for outdoor weddings off to the side of the building, several rows of chairs on either side of the aisle. The building itself is decked out in pride decor, various gay icons etched in colorful chalk on the brick that faces towards the street.

“Well, we sprung for the deluxe package,” Robin says, whipping out a little pamphlet and explaining the various amenities to everyone.

Eddie’s already texted the rest of the boys and Steve, but soon enough Chrissy’s got him by the hand and is tugging him inside with everyone else.

He’s really the only guest that’s dressed appropriately, black blazer over top of a black mesh top, his black nice jeans and his nicest pair of boots, the Panaroot Dunes that he spent several pretty pennies on when he last went shopping with the band’s stylist.

This fact becomes obvious in a second when Chrissy and Reader look at each other, horrorstruck.

Chrissy could pass - she’s in a silk nighty that flares out prettily around her thighs, but it’s white, and despite Robin and Nancy’s repeated assurances that Chrissy can indeed wear white to their wedding, she emphatically disagrees.

Reader, however, is really in the shit, flannel pajama shorts and an old band tee, fluffy slippers, hair a complete mess.

Hearing this commotion, several drag queens descend upon them.

“Come on, baby,” Tina Turner says to Reader, taking her hand and leading her to somewhere in the back, “We’ll get ya fixed up.”

Cher takes Chrissy’s hand and whisks her away as well, leaving Eddie standing with Robin and Nancy.

“So,” Eddie tries hesitantly, “Getting hitched, huh?”

Things are still a touch awkward. Eddie’s going to have to earn their trust and respect, something that he’s been needing more and more, not really sure as to why.

Nancy smiles at Robin affectionately, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, “Yeah, we’ve been together forever, figured that now was as good a time as any.”

Robin nods, “Plus, we were just walking and saw this place and it just…felt right?”

Nancy nods, waving the rest of Corroded Coffin over as they walk into the chapel.

They’ve cleaned up reasonably well on such short notice, though Eddie cringes to think about the state of their hotel rooms when they return, knowing that the ‘nice clothes’ were at the bottom of everyone’s suitcases. Joey’s gone all out, dressed in his tux, complete with his bowtie, taking Eddie’s instruction of ‘meet us here and dress nice’ a little too seriously. Gareth’s shed his usual flannel for a white button up and his dress pants, and Jeff’s tying his tie as he walks in.

“So,” Gareth glances all around the room, vague interest on his face, “What’s happening?”

Eddie jerks a thumb over his shoulder at Nancy and Robin, who are in the process of doing some paperwork, pom-poms swaying to and fro on top of their pens, “They’re getting married.”

“Oh shit!” Joey exclaims, before clapping a hand over his mouth, “Wait, am I allowed to swear? Is this holy ground?”

“I don’t think they care, dude. If it was truly holy ground each one of us would’ve burst into flames the second we crossed the threshold, on account of our various sins.”

Joey nods, “Gay,” he points to himself, “Whore,” he points at Eddie, “Crypto-bro,” he points at Jeff, “Short.” He points at Gareth, who smacks him on the back of the head, even if he has to stand on tiptoe to do it.

Just as Eddie’s about to retort, he feels a gentle tap on his shoulder, and turns.

At first, he’s face to face with a pair of huge fake breasts - actual fake breasts - he can just barely see the seam of the chest piece where it’s blended into the queen’s skin, and he adjusts his gaze, tilting his head back to look into her face.

Dolly Parton stares down at him, “Excuse me, darlin’,” She says, in what is a very close impression of Dolly’s voice, though the accent drops away for a half second when the queen’s eyes widen underneath her lashes, and a distinctly New Jersey accent slips out as she says “Jesus Christ, you’re gorgeous-” She clears her throat, adopting Dolly’s twang once more, “I need your jacket.”

“Why?” Eddie asks, but he’s already shucking it off and handing it to her.

“I just need it,” She says again, dropping Dolly’s accent again. She takes it and scurries away, heels clicking against the floor as she does, muttering something about oh my god he’s so hot I’m going to die.

Eddie smiles to himself, glancing towards where Nancy and Robin were, but they’re gone too, so he supposes that they went to change as well.

A few more minutes pass in comfortable silence, the buzz of the chapel around them, music playing from somewhere.

Then, Eddie hears a smattering of female voices, and turns.

Chrissy’s coming down the hallway to the left, hair in loose waves, all remnants of the face mask gone. She’s in a pink baby doll dress, sleeves puffing out around her shoulders. She looks incredibly adorable, and a quick glance in Gareth’s direction tells Eddie all he needs to know about what he’d been suspecting since San Diego.

Reader is not far behind, and it’s Eddie’s turn to blush.

She’s got his blazer on, unbuttoned, with nothing underneath, a wide strip of her chest and tummy exposed. She’s wearing a pair of tight black leather slacks that cling to her like a second skin, smoothing along the contours of her body in a way that makes his mouth water.

He can’t speak. Can’t think.

There’s a delicate silver body chain glittering between the insides of her breasts, which are tucked apart underneath the blazer. Her hair is in a low, slicked back ponytail, and it makes the angles of her face all sharp and with the smoky wings of black eyeliner, she looks almost cat-like, regal, her eyes shining beneath her lashes as she looks up at him.

“This okay? Dolly came back with this and they all thought that it looked pretty good?”

Eddie just stares, because that’s all he can do, and she cocks an eyebrow at him, “I mean, I can find something else if you want your jacket back-”

“No,” Eddie squeaks, clearing his throat to rid his voice of that noise that just came out of it, “No, don’t, it’s fine. You look good.”

She nods slowly, still looking confused, and seems as though she’s about to say something, but as she opens her mouth, they’re beckoned by a drag queen in front of a pair of double doors, and they all hurry to take their seats. By sheer coincidence, Eddie and Reader end up next to one another.

Robin’s standing at the altar, decked out in a poorly fitted imitation of an old mobster suit. It’s too big in certain ways, and the very tips of her fingers poke out from the sleeves of the jacket. The dress shirt underneath fits, the tie is a bit too loose and the slacks lead down to a set of shiny Doc Martens, which is the only part of the ensemble that actually belongs to her. Regardless of the fit, she looks good, radiant in a way that brides usually are, all anxiety wiping from her face the moment the music starts, the lights dim, and the guests (all seven of them, including Tony) are instructed to stand.

They turn their attention towards the back of the aisle, where Nancy is standing, clad in a white flapper dress.

Reader giggles a little, the last minute outfit coordination has done the job and everyone starts to laugh along with her, at the sweetness of it all, and at the speed and accuracy of which Robin and Nancy were able to pull this all together.

Eddie can’t quite place the song that Nancy’s walking down the aisle to, too busy watching the adoring, tearful expression on Reader’s face as she watches Nancy. She’s got her hands clasped in front of her mouth, covering her trembling lips, and as Eddie stares, a single, glistening tear courses its way down her cheek.

Without thinking, he reaches up to brush it away.

The feeling of love in the air has clearly had an effect on her, all manner of vitriol gone as she looks up at him and smiles, bumping his shoulder with hers when they’re instructed to sit down.

The music dims, and so do the lights, and a door behind the ornate altar splits open, and everyone watches in fascination (and maybe a little bit of fear) as fog billows through it, backlit by a blue-white light from beyond the door. Then, a shadow steps into the fog, and Eddie thinks he can tell, by the spiky hair, the general silhouette, who it might be.

There’s a sharp whine of an electric guitar that comes through the speakers, and a drag queen dressed as Joan Jett steps into the light, the fog billowing around her, licking up the curves of her body and twisting around the spikes in her hair.

Everyone starts nudging each other, excited laughter moving through the guests as Robin and Nancy barely keep it together on the altar, Robin is staring up at Joan, starstruck and Nancy is giggling wildly behind her hands.

Joan spreads her arms wide, and begins the ceremony.

It’s so perfect it's stupid, so perfectly tailored to Nancy and Robin as a couple that it's true serendipity that they ended up here, tonight, walking around Vegas together and finding this hidden gem, and there’s a part of it all, something that sticks in Reader’s mind as she runs to them once the ceremony is over, throwing herself into their arms, that despite her hesitancy about this tour, her reservations, her anxiety, that no matter what has happened, or what will, it was worth it to be here, now, with them.

It all dissolves into a party after that, Steve shows up fashionably to congratulate the girls, dances with Chrissy and Reader and Joey, and generally seems happier than he has this whole tour. He doesn’t fold into himself at all, sinking into the shadows like he does these days.

He’s dancing with Reader again, hands wound around her waist as she looks up at him, analytical, “Are you okay?”

He studies her for a moment before shrugging, “Yeah. I’m fine.”

She narrows her eyes at him, not in a knowing way but in a genuinely suspicious way, “You’ve just- you’re not-”

She struggles to find the words for a few moments, “You hear rumors, you hear stories in this industry, and I guess you’re not what I expected.”

He purses his lips, eyebrow cocking, “Oh, I can’t wait to hear the rest of this.”

She laughs, rolling her eyes, “There’s stories about how…involved you are, with the tours. How much you go out and you have fun… I think this is the first time that we’ve all been together on an outing, and I just wonder…is it because of me? Because of what happened between Daisy Chain and Corroded Coffin?”

Steve’s eyes grow wide, and he becomes instantly apologetic, pulling her into a hug, “No! No, it’s not you at all. You or Eddie, you’re both fine, it’s just-”

He pulls back, looking into her face again, “It’s just…I guess some things change over time. People change. I can’t party the way I used to, I guess.”

Reader nods, “I understand. It can get overstimulating.”

Steve nods, and heaves a deep sigh, “You have no idea.”

Robin and Nancy cut in shortly after that, and it’s a blur of laughter, lots of hugging, queens half out of drag as everyone sinks sleepily onto couches and chairs around the three am mark as Dolly hands out Tylenol and mini bottles of water.

They don’t mean to crash out, all arguing about who’s going to order the uber to get them back to the hotel, but one pair of eyes closes, then another, then another, and soon the chapel has a pile of rockstars sleeping on top of each other. Nancy and Robin are curled around each other on a loveseat, Chrissy has dozed off on Gareth’s shoulder as his head lolls onto the back of the couch, Joey and Jeff are spooning, Eddie’s head is in Steve’s lap and Reader has her cheek smushed against Eddie’s chest, with Steve’s hand draped across the whole of her face, so when the sun shines through the window a few hours later and burns into her eyelids, she sputters and flaps wildly at her face until his hand is gone, and tries to sit up but finds that she can’t.

Eddie’s arms are wrapped around her, tightly enough that it would definitely rouse him if she moved. She is able to lift her head to look around, confusion muddling its way to the surface through her gnarly hangover, blinking rapidly to clear her vision, and as her surroundings swim into focus, she becomes aware of many things, all at once.

One, her cheek kinda hurts, and when she raises the hand that’s pinned between hers and Eddie’s chests, she feels the impression of the mesh from his top is pressed into the flesh there. Two, there’s coffee brewing somewhere, and three, she’s not in her hotel room.

The panic dissipates as soon as it starts, as soon as her eyes land on Nancy and Robin and the memories start rushing back like rapidly flipping through a stack of polaroids, a hand at the small of her waist as she dips back, hair slipping past her shoulders and cascading into open air, the hand that holds hers against her chest tightening when she’s pulled back up, her eyes meeting a pair of onyx ones, soft, curly black hair framing them before she’s twirled, back to his chest as he sings softly along with the music against the shell of her ear.

Aching feet from the high heeled boots that are still strapped to her, peals of laughter and the taste of cheap champagne bubbling across her taste buds, strawberry lip gloss sticky and shiny on her cheek, being tossed over a tall shoulder, feet kicking wildly as laughter burns through her, fingers scraping bluntly across the starchy fabric of a suit jacket that needs to be washed, the glow of a cigarette in the inky blue night before her lips slot around the dent made in the filter made by his lips, the inhale throwing an orange flash across her face that his eyes track with a hunger that sends goosebumps careening across her flesh.

She squeezes her eyes shut against the onslaught of memories, tries and fails to push down the swell of affection in her chest when she remembers whose arms she’s in.

Skillfully, she maneuvers herself off of him, slipping from underneath his arms and crawling off of the couch, stepping over the bodies before her feet hit open floor, looking around the quiet chapel, looking hide or hair or leather or fur of one of the queens that were here last night.

She finds a little kitchen, with a man sitting quietly at a wooden table, sipping green tea and reading a newspaper. He’s bald, small silver earrings hanging delicately from his lobes, remnants of makeup still on his face, black on his waterline and a distinct red stain on his plump lips.

He looks up when she pads in, smiling gently at her, “Hi.”

“Hi,” she croaks, “I’m so sorry we fell asleep here - this is a chapel and not a hotel, and I’m totally willing to pay extra for us and our -”

He holds up a hand, “It’s fine, sweetie, we don’t mind. We’re just glad y’all had fun.”

She nods, arms folding around herself, she’s a bit cold without the warmth of Eddie around her, and she sighs, “Thanks, we’re probably still gonna cut y’all a check, for, ya know, room and board.”

He shrugs noncommittally, a warm smile crossing his face before he stands and pours her a cup of tea, glancing at her over his shoulder, “How do you take it?”

“Couple spoons of sugar. Honey, usually, but I dunno if you have it.”

He produces a jar of it from somewhere, and she watches as it drips into the cup, twirling and melting into the heat.

“Thanks,” She says as she takes a sip, sore throat soothed by the herbs, and she closes her eyes, sighing through her nose.

Everyone stirs soon after that, voices traveling down the hall in search of her, before they’re all crowding around the doorway, eight pairs of eyes looking at her apologetically, and she remembers in an instant that they have a show tonight.

The clock on the microwave reads just past nine, and so they say their goodbyes, a stack of Instax pictures being shoved into their hands, blown out and blurry, Steve and Reader both writing individual checks, and soon, they’re back in the oppressive heat of Las Vegas, squinting against the harsh sunlight as they pile into a couple of Ubers.

On the drive back to the casino, it’s quiet, everyone too sleepy and too nauseous to talk too much, and she becomes aware of the pile of pictures still clutched in one of her hands, and she slowly starts to sort through them, Robin and Nancy in one hand, everyone else in the other, and she finds one that makes her heart stop in her chest, and as she stares a little longer, her throat feels like it's closing.

Eddie’s got her in his arms, chin hooked over her shoulder as his hands rest on top of hers where they cross over her stomach. Their figures are blurry from the motion, but this is concrete evidence that the clearest memory she has from last night actually happened, and it wasn’t some fantasy her sleep-addled brain had concocted while she slept in his arms, breathing in the scent of his cologne, in deep, slow, consuming breaths. She stows it away from the prying eyes of others and tries to justify it in her mind.

She was drunk. He was drunk, they were drunk and so she can sit here, look pretty and pretend it never happened. Unless he remembers it too, which is a looming possibility that casts her into a chilly shadow. It’s not like anything more happened, but the tenderness of it is what gets her, something that she’s not used to, something that is so foreign that her body, once cognisant, completely rejects.

It was the setting, she thinks, the setting. A wedding, a declaration of love between two people that seeped across the floor like water and brushed the toes of everyone there, a contagion that is affecting no one else but maybe Chrissy and Gareth, but that’s for another day.

She rests her forehead against the cool window, the air conditioning blowing directly on her face from a vent above, and she breathes away the feelings until she feels numb again, until her toes are securely on baseline.

***

The arena glitters at her as she laughs into the microphone, “So,” she says, lips brushing against the mesh, “Something pretty cool happened last night.”

She can hear Robin laughing from upstage as a photo flashes across the screens on either side of the stage, poorly taken from an iPhone camera, but nevertheless showing the moment that Nancy and Robin had sealed their union with a kiss, a corny graphic of pink bubble letters announcing their marriage glinting at the bottom of the screen.

“So, in honor of this most special occasion,” Reader grins at Nancy, “I’m going to perform the first song that Nancy ever learned to play, which, well…you’ll see.”

She switches guitars with Danny, who takes her electric and gives her the acoustic, and as Robin descends from her platform to stand next to Nancy, arms twisting around each other as Gareth takes Robin’s place at the drums, and Eddie is slinging Nancy’s bass around his shoulders, with Joey, Jeff and Steve coming out to spectate, to raucous applause from the crowd.

She tunes the strings a bit, and then is plucking out a tune on the strings that no one seems to recognize at first, but as soon as she’s sidling up to the microphone and crooning out the first few lyrics, Nancy claps a hand over her mouth.

“Please baby, can't you see, my mind’s a burning hell. I’ve got razors a rippin’ and tearin’ and strippin’ my heart apart as well.”

As people start to recognize and sing along, she can feel the vibration of the bass in her feet and takes a glance over at Eddie, teeth worrying into his bottom lip as he plucks out the bassline, shining rings catching the stage lights every so often and blinding her as she watches, and it’s with a great effort that she tears her eyes away, eyes landing back on Nancy and Robin as she moves into the second verse. She’s split in two, hyper aware of Eddie moving on the stage next to her, hyper aware of Nancy and Robin in front of her, glowing, laughing faces and when she focuses solely on them, the ache eases, but it comes right back around when the final chorus comes.

“It’s only fear that makes you run, the demons that you’re hiding from,” She sings, eyes meeting Eddie’s for a half second before she’s turning away again, strumming out a flourish on the acoustic as the song concludes.

She feels a bit breathless as Danny comes back out to give her the electric, and she turns to find Eddie’s eyes on hers as he presses a chaste kiss to both Robin and Nancy’s cheeks, quietly congratulating them before waving to the crowd as he exits stage right.

***

Syrupy air fills her lungs with each breath. She meanders through the crowd, sweating glass in one hand, the other hanging limply at her side.

Her head feels light on her shoulders, her constantly stiff muscles finally relaxing a little bit. She moves to the music, slowly, allowing herself to move with the ebb and flow of the crowd.

She’s drunk enough not to care about the way her head is starting to hurt, how her eardrums rattle from the impact of the bass. She closes her eyes against the multicolored lights, tilting her head upward towards the ceiling.

She doesn’t know where her bandmates are. She doesn’t really know where she is, entirely. She knows she’s in Vegas, she knows she’s at a club, with the pounding music and the many bodies pressed up against her, but the finer details fall away.

When she opens her eyes, her vision tunnels to a familiar face. Eddie, standing some ten feet away, hands on a girl's hips as she presses her back against his chest, blissed out expression lolling along the contours of his shoulder as he bends to press his face into the sweaty column of her neck.

There’s a strip of skin exposed just above her belly button, and that’s where Eddie’s hands lay, perilously close to several places where she might want him later.

Something stirs within Reader. It’s not jealousy, it’s fascination. As she watches, she can’t quite figure out why she can’t look away. There is a tiny tinge of envy, but she doesn’t know who it’s for - Eddie, or the girl.

She’s beautiful, curvy, dark skin absorbing the lights and turning them rich against her body. Her hair is auburn, a soft curly cloud that haloes the fine contours of her face, her full lips shining with gloss, her slender hand coming up to run through Eddie’s hair as he presses closer.

The stark contrast of her deep brown skin against his pale, tattooed visage is something that makes the whole scene even harder to look away from, his hands flexing against the flesh of her waist, his nose pressed against her cheek as he says something into her ear.

Reader would have gladly stood there, swaying a little on her feet as she watched them, but soon, there was another body pressing against hers and she was whisked away, hands on her hips, breasts that brush against hers, strong hands and broad shoulders, a confusing mix of bodies, of people, of skin, until minutes or hours pass and she finds herself face to face, chest to chest, with Eddie.

It doesn’t immediately register. How could it? She’s spent an indeterminate amount of time with hands that aren’t his holding hers, eyes that aren’t his looking down into her face, lips that aren’t his pressing into the shell of her ear, the side of her neck, against her own, moving clumsily and fervently, in and out of beat with the music, in and out of waves of needless, misplaced desire.

She sobers a little, taking in his appearance. About three different shades of lipstick are smeared across his mouth, his hair is an absolute mess, half up, half down, curly ringlets dissipating from the sweat, eyes dark, so dark, so-

The glass in her hand is dripping with condensation, the drink gone and the ice almost gone with it, so there’s no use in her holding it anymore. Yet she clings, the coolness, the smoothness of the glass and the steady weight of it in her palm, because it’s really the only thing she’s sure of.

Everything else swirls around her. She’s far too drunk, and there’s a distant ping in the back of her head about this, and all at once, under Eddie’s gaze, in the muggy air of the club, she wants to go back to the hotel.

She mumbles something of the sort, the music too loud, swallowing her words, but Eddie seems to understand anyway, plucking the glass from her hand and setting it who knows where, before replacing it with his cold fingers, and by the hand, he leads her out of the club and back onto the strip.

September in Vegas doesn’t adhere to typical fall weather, so it’s still oppressively warm, but she sucks in lungfuls of the fresh air as Eddie leads her back to the hotel. The grip on her hand is so gentle, barely there, but for each of his long strides she has to take a couple, so soon enough, she’s tugging him back beside her.

So, he falls into step next to her, allowing her to wind her arms around his bicep, her head slumping sleepily onto his shoulder. He ignores the heat that rises to his cheeks, looking down at her fondly. To anyone else, they’d look like a normal couple in Vegas, maybe a tad too drunk, but in love all the same.

Except they’re not in love. The only reason she’s even acting this way is because she’s drunk and overstimulated, both things sapping her of her usual spunk and all of her energy. Even so, Eddie revels in the moment, knowing that it’ll be the last.

When they get back to the casino they’re staying in, she flinches a little from the loud noise in the confined space, so he leads her to the elevators.

“Where’s your room?” He asks her, waiting to press the button on the elevator.

“305,” She tells him through a yawn.

He presses the corresponding button on the elevator. The doors slide to a close, and she suddenly seems to become very aware of her body and what it’s doing. She pulls her arms away from his and stands as straight as she can, though she sways a bit with the movement of the elevator.

Eddie wonders why she keeps doing that. Pulling away from him, constantly. On stage in Phoenix, in the green room in Santa Fe, even on the road, when both buses were at the rest stop and when he’d brush against her accidentally in the aisles of a convenience store, not even trying to be in her space. He’d think it was something else, something he did, something genuinely wrong but he would find her looking at him, the performative distaste falling from her face for a moment, replaced by something he can’t decipher, can’t name.

It’s driving him crazy. How unreadable she is. How she’s okay with him near one moment and then is shrinking away the next, like she’s trying to not exist too much, or too loudly.

The elevator door opens and she starts through it, fishing in her pocket for the room key. He knows that she shares this room with Chrissy, having given the bigger one to the newlyweds, and despite knowing that the journey from the elevator to her room won’t be treacherous, he follows her anyway, bending to catch her when she slumps against the wall.

“‘M fine,” She mutters, standing a little straighter, checking all of her pockets for the key, “Just can’t find this damn key.”

Eventually, she finds it in her bra, holding it triumphantly over her head as she starts towards her room again.

He knows that she’ll be okay, yet he falls into step next to her, until the silver numbers 305 glitter at him from her hotel room door.

She’s halfway inside before she turns, looking up at him. Her eyes are impossibly soft, and somehow he knows it’s not from the liquor. She runs a nervous hand through her hair, a tick that she’s picked up from being around him, before she steps back over the threshold to stand on tiptoe and press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Thanks,” She says, face lingering in front of his for half a second before she disappears behind the door, leaving him leaning into open air, arm braced against the door frame, staring at silver numbers.

#Eddie munson x reader #oh this one was so fun to write yall #my fic: dissonance #bandfic #Eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #if you can't tell by the everything about this chapter I am deeply bisexual and love queer culture with my entire soul #but this was so fucking fun to write UGH I wish it was a movie or a show #the next chapter...yall...hoo...boy....#reader is fighting against every natural instinct contained in her body if you can't tell #she wants to like him SO BAD DUDE #and he's already down bad crying at the gym teenage petulance fuck it if I can't have her type beat

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