#ohnopoess21

[nolanell]

Flying Blind: A Star Wars Soulmate AU

Poe Dameron x Female!ForceSensitive!RebelOfficer!Reader

Part of @ohnopoe's Secret Santa 2021 Exchange, big thank you for organising! This is a gift for @mariesackler; I hope you enjoy!

Word Length: ~3k words

Warnings: Angst, an attack on a rebel base happens, Poe's X-Wing is damaged and crash lands, Poe is unconcious and injured. She/Her pronouns are used throughout as per the Secret Santa request guidelines; Reader is otherwise undescribed physically. Reader does spend time in an underground office, mess hall and cabin (sleeping quarters). Reader spends time in the command room during the attack on the rebel base and also is close to the crash landing as it happens. Reader panics during the attack/discovering Poe is injured and her reaction is described. Please let me know if I missed anything.

Notes: In this Soulmate AU, you are born with a tattoo that gives you a clue as to who your soulmate is. Once you meet them, you get another clue as to who they are, the idea being you combine them and work it out.

Divider by @firefly-graphics // Moodboard by me

It was bizarre to think how much of an impact that her soulmate had already had on her life, even though they hadn't met each other yet. She wondered if anyone had such a conspicuous soulmate tattoo like she did; not that she would ever want to, but her tattoo would draw suspicion if she had joined the First Order. It was cool though, she had to admit; a schematic-style drawing of an X-Wing. It came with its questions; were they a pilot? Were they a mechanic? An engineer? So many possibilities. She also wondered what her soulmate's tattoo was, to represent her.

He'd mulled over it many a long night, usually after an unsuccessful or unrewarding mission. When he was alone with his thoughts because he wasn't exhausted enough to fall asleep the minute his head hit the pillow, or because he was questioning his very contribution to the cause. More importantly, what would you say? How could he face you, a Jedi, when he had a string of unsuccessful missions under his belt over the last few weeks? Hopefully, he would be able to get some more completed that ended more favourably before meeting you in person. But also, you were a Jedi. He assumed, anyway. Why else would he have a Jedi Crest as his soulmate tattoo? They could, admittedly, be more complex than that and perhaps you weren't a Jedi but it was somehow relevant to who you were. It seemed unlikely though; either you were a Jedi or you were not. Hopefully, Poe thought to himself, you were not.

She arrived at the Rebel Base shortly after dawn, the inky blue of the sky making way for a hazy purple and then finally into a light blue as the suns rose higher into the sky. She was greeted by an officer.

'Where is Commander Dameron?' she asked with an eyebrow raised.

'We received some last minute intelligence, ma'am, and he deployed with his squadron,' the officer explained.

She nodded, her shoulders sagging slightly. Her orders were to meet with the Commander as soon as possible and to plan the Rebellion's next major move. Her commanding officer had learnt of a new First Order Base being established near to this Rebel one, and to take it out before full completion and operation would be a huge step for the Rebellion. As such, she had been sent to liaise with Commander Dameron, who was commanding officer here following the passing of General Organa. Despite the death of Supreme Leader Snoke, the First Order still tried to hold its grip on the galaxy, not unlike the Empire before it. There was still plenty of work for the Rebels, and to not be able to meet with the Commander immediately was hindering that work.

'Do you know when the Commander and his squadron are expected back?' she asked.

'It shouldn't be too long, ma'am; as I understand it was a recon mission, and they left this time yesterday. I would expect after debrief that you should be able to meet with Commander Dameron in about six hours from now,' the officer answered. 'In the meantime, would you like to be set up somewhere?'

'I'd appreciate it if that could be arranged,' she nodded. The officer led her through a door built into the side of a huge mound of soil, the size of an average cantina. As the doors opened, she saw a tunnel extend, sloping downward, until the dim light gave out and the end could not be seen. The officer led her in, walking down the tunnel and stopping at a door with a display that indicated the room was not in permanent use.

'All yours, ma'am,' the officer stood at attention at a 90 degree angle to the door as it opened.

She took a step in, looked around for a second then turned to face the doorway. 'Thank you, officer. Please inform me the moment I am able to speak to Commander Dameron.'

'Of course, ma'am,' the officer nodded, then left back up the tunnel.

Sitting down at the desk, and pulling datapads from her bag, she began pouring over the information she had once again. Her eyes kept drifting to the tattoo on the inside of her left wrist. She had a feeling that she was going to meet her soulmate on this mission. She exhaled sharply out of her nose as the realisation really dawned on her; this could potentially jeparadise the whole mission. She needed to speak to her commanding officer; retrieving her comm from her bag, she began to initiate a call.

'News already? I am impressed,' her commanding officer greeted her within seconds of the call request.

'Not yet,' she shook her head, then took a deep breath. 'I am concerned that circumstances beyond my control may put my mission into danger. I believe I will meet my soulmate during this mission.'

Her commander let out a slow, gentle sigh. 'I appreciate your honesty and your candidness, but I cannot withdraw you from this mission solely due to your… sensitivity implying that this may happen. It happens when it does, and there's nothing we can do.'

'But…' she began in protest.

'Enough, officer,' her commander cut her off. 'Do you think General Organa shied away when she realised she would probably meet her soulmate while smuggling the plans for the Death Star?'

'No, no I don't,' she replied quietly as she looked down at the desk.

'Exactly,' her commander replied. 'I understand your hesitation, I truly do, but I also know that life keeps going and this mission cannot wait, and needs my best. Is that understood, officer?'

At the firmness of the last sentence, her eyes snapped up. 'Yes, commander.'

'Good. Please report to me with your progress as soon as appropriate,' the commander ended the call.

She glanced at the time once her commander finished the call. Three and a half hours had passed since she had settled in this room. She rubbed at her eyes, blinking slowly, to relax from the solid concentration. Standing up and stretching her arms over her head, she left the office and began looking for the mess to get a mug of caf.

Once returned, the mug steaming on the desk next to her, she continued studying the documents and schematics on her datapads, trying to make notes, making plan A, B, C… all the way through and then plan AA, BB, CC… Checking the time again, she noticed it had been almost seven hours since she first arrived. Where was that squadron? She hadn't been informed of anything, and she couldn't feel anything to suggest the mission had gone wrong. Picking up her mug, she left the office and made her way up the tunnel, blinking as the light of the suns at their highest point was blinding compared to the dim light of inside. She scanned the area once her eyes had acclimatised, looking for the officer who had greeted her.

She wasn't looking for too long when the officer spotted her first and walked over. 'I apologise, ma'am, for the delay. The briefing took longer than expected. The commander will be with you in the next few minutes; if you wait in your office, he'll make his way to you.'

She gave the officer a quick nod, turning on her heel and returning to the office. It was frustrating being kept waiting so long, but debriefs could not be rushed. Sitting back in her chair, she rubbed her eyes again and took a couple of slow, deep drags from her mug.

Commander Dameron did not keep her waiting long. A few minutes after she had sat down, he opened her door, still in flight suit, looking dishevelled and defeated.

'Commander,' she stood up, straightening her stance to attention as she looked at him.

'At ease, officer,' he sighed distractedly as he sat down. 'And please, call me Poe.'

'Poe,' she nodded, sitting down too and holding her mug, drumming her fingers on it as she was unsure what to do.

'I know your commanding officer and it seems like a pretty big deal that he sent you. Why exactly are you here, officer?' Poe asked. Despite the evident fatigue, he seemed every bit the funny, wisecracking man you had heard he was.

'My commanding officer has learnt there is a First Order Base under construction and that this Rebel Base is the closest,' she explained. 'My commander has sent me here to work with you, Poe, to destroy it before it can be completed, as this would be an important victory for us.'

'Ah, the big shot commander thinks I need a babysitter?' Poe asked, arching an eyebrow at her.

She didn't know what to say, and looked back at him.

He broke out into a grin. 'I'm kidding, officer,' he smiled.

She let out a soft giggle. She could feel he was a good man, trying to do his best, and she liked him already.

'How about we get some more caf, you can share what intel you have, and we can start working out how we'll do this?' Poe asked, nodding at your mug.

'I could do with waking up,' you nodded, standing from your chair.

'Seven hours in here is enough to make anyone start falling asleep,' Poe smirked as he led the way to the mess.

When they arrived, it took much longer than her first trip as so many wanted to speak to their commander. He introduced her to every single one of them, explaining she was here to support him on the next mission and that she was one of their own, as far as he and everyone else was concerned. She could understand why she liked him already; he was a good leader, he had the respect of everyone he led, but he had earnt that respect, and did not take it for granted. She got a warm, happy feeling when the others spoke to him and she felt that working with him was going to be an overall positive experience.

Back in the office, some thirty minutes later, she poured over schematics, documents and plans with Poe between sips of caf and occasional laughter. He was easy to work with, receptive to suggestions, and was willing to step back and listen when she clearly knew more on something than he did. After a few hours, her shoulders began to slouch, her eyelids droop, and Poe could not stop yawning.

'Let's get you a cabin, you need to rest,' Poe smiled warmly, standing up and stretching. He led her deeper into the underground building, further down the sloping tunnel, to a network of cabin rooms. Poe found an unallocated one and assigned it to her.

'Thank you Comm- thank you, Poe,' she smiled, holding out her left hand in offer of handshake.

'You're welcome,' Poe smiled, and then glancing down, his eyes widened a little. 'If.. if you don't mind me asking, is that your soulmate tattoo?'

'It is,' she smiled, looking down at it. 'It's kinda pushed me into this career. Wouldn't get very far in the First Order.'

Poe laughed out loud. She was funny; he liked that about her.

'What about you?' she asked.

Poe looked down at his wrist and pulled up his sleeve. He showed her his tattoo of the Jedi Crest.

'Your soulmate is a Jedi?' she asked incredulously.

'Maybe,' Poe shrugged. 'Not got my second one yet. Kinda hoping it's a cryptic one. Can you imagine not being able to be with your soulmate?'

She nodded slowly. 'That would be difficult. I hope they aren't, for your sake. Good night, Poe. See you tomorrow?'

'Tomorrow. Hopefully we can plan a recon for the day after,' Poe nodded.

She saw it the minute she woke up. On the inside of her other wrist, flames snaking up to the crook of her elbow. Reds, yellows and oranges. She had met countless people yesterday, so she couldn't be sure exactly who the person was. Though she had a feeling she was going to find out very soon; action was never very far away on a Rebel Base and it felt like it was only a matter of time. She dressed, then opened her cabin door and headed to the mess; before she could get there, she heard sirens sounding and an almost immediate flurry of activity.

Pressing herself against the wall of the main tunnel, she picked up pieces of frantic yells and garbled explanations as she kept out of the way and let everyone do their part. As much as she could probably leap into an X-Wing, she had no assigned squadron, no assigned leader, and would be flying blind; more of a liability than an asset. It was a frustrating case of staying grounded and hoping for the best. That would have been fine, were it not for the fear that gripped her in the chest once all the X-Wings were deployed. She knew now that her soulmate was a pilot, they were here, and had been deployed. The command centre was a cacophony of sound; comms officers frantically taking and sending messages of coordinates and maneuvers, commanders and XOs following screens which were tracking positions. It was deafening, and impossible for even an experienced outsider to follow. She stood by, should she be asked for advice, or maybe to even be ordered to jump in an X-Wing. She'd given up on following the several voices throughout the room, just paying attention to the feeling in her chest. It was building, spreading through her torso and becoming more intense until a voice cut through the noise around her.

'Commander Dameron, come in! Commander Dameron, please acknowledge,' the comms officer's voice was urgent, frantic.

Everything slowed down. Everything became silent. She knew now. She knew. She ran outside, looking up at the sky, trying to make out anything above. As she shielded her eyes from the suns, she saw the outline of an X-Wing. It was coming through the clouds, descending rapidly. As it got closer, she could make out one of the engines was on fire. The X-Wing was coming even closer, not slowing down. She heard one of the ground crew yell something; rooted to the spot, she ignored it, and then felt someone yank on her arm and pull her behind cover. The next part happened so fast, it couldn't have been more than a few seconds, but it still felt like an eternity. The X-Wing hit the ground, the metal screeching along the runway and the shape of its shadow flickering over her as it passed. As the last edge of the shadow came over her, a wave of heat engulfed her as the flames from the engine still burned. The screeching of metal on runway continued until it eventually faded and then stopped. As soon as it did, she lept out from behind her cover and over to the X-Wing, He was in there. She knew. She had to get him out.

As she approached it and frantically started climbing its frame, she could see him inside. His chest was rising and falling steadily, he had some cuts to his forehead but she couldn't see any running blood. She could feel he was alive, and she needed to get him some attention. She broke open the cockpit, undid his harness and pulled him out. Carrying him in her arms, she sprinted as fast as she could to the med bay. She couldn't hear anything going on around her. Nothing existed but him, and the need for him to survive. Even her own scream of 'Commander Dameron needs help!' seemed muffled to her ears. She did sort of notice a flurry around her once she shouted it, everyone seemed to leap into action. She heard herself, muffled, tell the chief medic that she wanted to help and to just instruct her. Luckily, the medic did, and she was given instructions, which she focused on; again the world melted away and it was just her, the chief medic and Poe. Slowly, she could make out that the people around them had backed away, and it was just the medic, her and Poe actually in the room. Eventually, the chief medic put a kindly hand on her shoulder, smiling down at her in the chair she had eventually sunk into, and said that everything had been done that could be for the commander, and he would wake up when he was ready. She smiled weakly back; she thanked the medic for everything he had done and then said she would wait with Commander Dameron if that was okay, which the chief medic agreed to.

She wasn't sure how long had passed, but eventually she saw his eyelashes flutter, his eyelids crinkle and something like a hiss of pain crossed with a groan of exhaustion come out. Her heart lurched in her chest as she sat up straighter, his eyes opening and focussing on her.

'Poe! Stars, you made me worry!' she exclaimed, before she knew what she was doing.

Poe gave a raspy chuckle. 'I made you worry? I was the one thinking you'd need a medic!'

She frowned in confusion. 'What?'

'Saw this when I woke up this morning,' Poe nodded slightly down to one of his wrists, which showed the Red Sigil, the accepted symbol for medics. 'Thought they were going to need help.'

'But… how did you know?' she asked, still frowning.

'I heard you ask if you could help,' Poe grinned at her. 'I knew then, it had to be you.'

'I knew… I was in the command centre, when your comm went down. I knew before you even landed,' she grinned back.

'But,' Poe started, nodding to her flame tattoo. 'How could you if you couldn't see?'

'I could just tell,' she replied, still grinning, and nodding at his Jedi tattoo.

'Wait. You're… sensitive?' Poe gasped.

She nodded.

'And here I was worried you were gonna reveal yourself as a Jedi! You had me terrified!' Poe laughed, throwing his head back on the pillow in relief.

'I guess we're even then, Commander,' she arched an eyebrow at him, laughing.

'I guess so,' Poe grinned, squeezing her hand.

[marvel-and-mischief]

A Very Merry Christmas

This is my Secret Santa fic for the lovely @hopeamarsu ! Merry Christmas and I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Pero Tovar x F!Reader Summary: there's a mix up with the last available room, but you and Pero can learn to share, can't you? Warnings: only one bed trope! Food, meat, alcohol consumption, grumpy Pero but he cheers up when he gets drunk, fluffy at the end because it's Christmas Words: 2000

Fic Masterlist

Pero was used to traveling by foot. He quickly became accustomed to the squelch of mud that had poured through the holes in his old boots and the wisp of icy wind that whipped at the uncovered skin at his shoulder. The hunch of his back and the aches in his legs were familiar as he trudged through yet another unwelcoming village that wouldn’t take him in for the night. His last hope of a good nights rest was a town that he was pointed in the direction of, which he could see as he crested over the hill. The sun had set long ago but the town emanated its own light. A bright star amongst the blackened landscape, Pero was almost excited to see what was on offer. Lights meant people, which usually meant revelry which sometimes afforded to generosity.

Pero wasn’t one for celebrating tradition but he couldn’t help the small quirk of his lip at the sight of dancing and singing in the town square. Young women were being spun around to the rhythm of drums, flute players were skipping around one another whilst poets made up lyrics on the spot. However, Pero was more interested in the feast on display along the courtyard walls; platters of juicy fruits from around the world, vegetables cooked in a variety of ways, sauces thickened with chunks of bread, a whole boars head was the centerpiece on one side of the courtyard, a swan roasted in its feathers the centrepiece on the other side. There were barrels of wine and mead scattered everywhere, some thrown on the raging fire in the middle once they were empty.

Any other time of year Pero would have turned back the way he came from, the whole scene looking like something straight out of a Bible verse warning about what to expect at the gates of hell. Instead, Pero allowed himself to relax and enjoy the merriment. This would be a good place to spend the night. He just had to find somewhere to stay.

Usually, at times like these, the inns would be full but on asking a few of the more sober locals, Pero found that the Lord had opened up his manor to travelers this holiday season and Pero was hoping to be one of the lucky few to take him up on the offer.

On arrival the door was already open, welcoming everyone in to indulge in the Lord and Lady’s generosity. The fireplace was decorated with a wreath of mistletoe and sprigs of holly. The room was warm despite the lack of people and Pero wondered if he had arrived at the wrong manor.

“Have you come to rest, young man?” An elderly gentleman clad in a shroud of blue cloth descended the staircase towards Pero. On realizing he was being spoken to, Pero lowered his head in respect and cleared his throat.

“I am, Sir. I was told you may have rooms available. I can pay,” Pero shook the pouch of coins at his hip but the Lord waved off the offer.

“It is Christmas, there will be no such payment necessary,” the Lord smiled kindly and pointed to the stairs as he stepped off them, “we have one room left on the third floor at the end of the corridor. It’s at the back of the house, so no fire but there are plenty of blankets.”

Pero couldn’t believe his luck. He smiled gratefully and before he could remember his place he took the Lord’s hand and shook it, hoping to express in that one action how thankful he was to have a warm bed to sleep in this night.

-

You had traveled for the holidays this year, with nothing but your bag on your back you had eventually found yourself in a small town along the river you’d been following for the past two days. You had always had a lust for adventure, your parents had tried to steer you away from a life on the road but hadn’t been successful. You believed there was so much more to life than being forced to settle down and be someone’s wife until you died. So, going against everyone’s expectations, you saved up enough coin to leave the village you’d grown up in to pave your own way in life.

You found a room to stay in for a couple of nights, given by the kind Lady of the manor who plied you with handfuls of blankets and made you promise to let her know if she could do anything else for you. You shivered as you unloaded the blankets onto the bed in the corner, immediately taking out your journal from your bag. You would need to write home and let your mother know you were safe. But before you could do that a strange man was barging into your room, muttering under his breath about a ‘warm bed’ and ‘feasting for days’.

“Excuse me,” you announced your presence, jumping from the bed where he nearly collided with you. He jumped back in surprise, face twisting into wide-eyed confusion and then anger as he regarded you suspiciously.

“Who are you?” he demanded rather than asked, looking you up and down as if he could determine exactly who you were by the clothes you were wearing.

“Who are you?” you shot back, increasingly alarmed that he wasn’t leaving you in peace. He looked back towards the door he came through before grunting his disapproval at you.

“This is the room at the end of the corridor?” He phrased it as a question but there was no mistake, this was the only room at the back of the third floor, it was the one the Lady had directed you to.

“Yes. I was given this room by the Lady of the manor,” you kept your emotions in check, despite wanting to shrink under the man’s gaze. He had a fiery look in his eyes, no longer directed at you but at the predicament he had found himself in.

“The Lord told me it was free,” he muttered, hands flexing and un-flexing at his side. It reminded you of the nervous gesture your mother would make when she was working out a problem, except this problem had only one solution: it was your room first, and you weren’t going to give it up so easily.

“Well, I was here first, so…” you shrugged, breathing slowly through your nose as he shot you a thunderous glare.

“Clearly, idiota,” he pulled his bag higher up his shoulder and spun on his heels, leaving the room with nothing but a slam of the door behind him. You huffed out a breath of relief before collapsing on the bed. Hopefully, there would be no more surprises this night.

-

You couldn’t get him out of your mind. He was brisk and rude but you couldn’t help feeling bad for the man that simply wanted a room to rest his head for the night. It had you pacing across the bedroom, hands sore from where you’d absentmindedly scratched them in thought. You eventually paused in front of the large square window that overlooked the narrow path alongside the house where stragglers from the festivities in town were leaning heavily against tree trunks, uneasy on their feet after a day of drinking. That was when a particularly scruffy man caught your eye, sat atop an upturned bucket, a flagon of wine never far from his lips and a permanent scowl on his face.

You pried open the window with a small creak and offered a “psst” as though trying to catch the attention of an easily startled cat. He took another large swig from his drink but didn’t look up.

“Hey, you,” you whisper-shouted, suddenly aware that you didn’t know his name and trying not to catch the attention of anyone else. You side-eyed the drunks but they were unaware of your presence. It was on your fifth attempt that your stranger looked up at you with a murderous glare.

“You don’t give up, do you?”

You held back a gasp and swallowed your nerves. You were trying to be nice and you weren’t going to let him break your reserve.

“I’m sorry I took your room,” you began, and you think you saw his frown straighten but it was difficult to tell in the lack of sunlight.

“I am unbothered. I have spent many a night under the stars,” he grumbled. He stood, making to walk away before your urgent cry stopped him in his tracks.

“No, don’t leave. I feel bad and if you are willing, you can come up and sleep on the floor,” you closed your eyes as you spoke, not daring to see his reaction to your invitation. You heard nothing for a while, no answer but no footsteps running away either. You dared to peak through one eye to see him staring with a look of amusement. At least he isn’t angry, you thought.

“You are strange and possibly stupid…”

You raised an eyebrow, feeling your heart thudding faster in hope. “But you accept?”

He grunted something about inviting strangers into your room but you couldn’t quite hear, too busy watching on in confused shock as he took a run up to the house.

“What are you doing?” you leaned half your body through the window to see him pulling himself up by the vines that grew along the wall. As soon as he got within reaching distance you grabbed his hand and pulled him into the room, the two of you landing hard on the wooden floor.

You took a moment to catch your breaths. When you realized what he had done you poked him harshly in the ribs where he lay next to you.

“There are stairs you could have climbed,” you scolded.

“If anybody finds me in here with you there will be trouble,” he breathed, opening the flagon he’d secured to his hip and taking a messy swig. In that moment you realized what you’d done. Allowing an unruly, bad-mannered stranger into the room you were staying in. And you didn’t even know his name. You offered yours in the hopes he would tell you his.

“Pero,” he replied, offering you a drink which you accepted without hesitating. You would need it if you were going to get through this night.

It wasn’t long before the wine left you both loose-lipped and relaxed. You’d moved to the bed, sat cross legged and close to each other as you exchanged stories of your travels, of the troubles you had gotten yourselves in, of the close calls with authority that had you muffling your giggles into the blankets wrapped around you.

Pero surprisingly warmed up to you when he was full of drink. There was less scowling and muttering insults, and more of a twinkle in his eye. He offered stories that had you disbelieving, told tales of long lost friends, of family he wished to see again. You weren’t sure if any of it were true, or if he was simply finding solace in a harmless stranger. Whatever the case may be, you were entertained and felt the happiest you had been in your travels so far.

Before long you were growing tired, head becoming heavy from a long day on foot and an even longer evening drinking with Pero. He could see your eyes beginning to close and moved to leave you to the comfort of the bed. But the distance didn’t feel right and you refused to let go of the hold you had on his arm.

“Stay,” you demanded, voice slow and groggy. Pero wondered if you knew what you were saying, or if he interpreted your comment correctly, but he was too tired and lonely to deny you your request. He shifted on the bed until he was lying down and pulled you half on top of him, your head resting in the crook of his neck, his arm secured around your waist to keep you at his side.

The sun was peaking over the hill, welcoming in a new day when you both fell asleep to the distant sounds of festive revelry, and Pero’s last thought was that he hoped you wouldn’t be gone when he woke up.

[deadhumourist]

Secret Santa 2021: Mistletoe and Mischief

Merry Very Late Christmas lovely Andy @ohnopoe! Santa's ass got stuck in the chimney so this is a bit late for actual Christmas (sorry) but rather a Happy 2022 gift! Thanks again for organising this, it was fun!

This is a Modern!Din AU. Din Djarin with F!Reader, festiveness, fake dating, only one bed, mutual pining. Yeah I bunged them all in there because apparently I enjoy being extra. I hope you like this <3

Warnings: Din Djarin x F!Reader, kissing, Olympic-level pettiness, Christmas, please let me know if I missed something. Unbeta'd.

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Din sat in the waiting room of the specialist auto repair shop, mindlessly scrolling his phone. Every article was Christmas this, Christmas that. If it hadn’t been for the kid, he would have just stayed in his house and never paid attention to any of it. A little smile crept up his face at the thought of his son, who was visiting Aunt Peli for a few days before Christmas.

A few minutes into his scrolling, Greef Karga pops up on his screen, a FaceTime call ringing loudly in the quiet room. His heart sank as he realised that he knew what this was about.

He swiped and instantly the screen animated. “Mando! You’re a difficult man to track.”

Din winced. He had subtly, not-so-subtly been avoiding this phone call, but he had to get it out of the way one way or another.

“Yeah, it’s busy with the kid and catching up on things.”

Greef chuckled. His booming voice seemed much louder than it needed to be in the quiet of the workshop.

“You haven’t RSVP’d to my invitation, my friend. You skipped last year’s function, I hope it’s not what you’re planning to do again.”

“You know why I skipped last year, Karga. Is she going to be there?”

“Of course she is, she’s an old friend. If I had to uninvite every person who bats their eyelashes at you, my guest list would be empty”, Laughter thundered through the phone, Greef very amused with himself.

Din sighed.

“Alright. I’ll be there. But I’m not staying late at the Christmas ball. Not my scene.”

“None of this is your scene, which is the point, my friend. I await your arrival with optimism.” And with that the window closed.

Din stared into the middle distance. He needed to get out of this somehow.

He trundled into the workshop to see how far you were with the Crest. He only trusted one person with his gunmetal grey Jaguar E-type and she was currently on her back underneath the chassis.

Your jean-clad legs stuck out underneath the car and as he stared at your shoelaces a thought subtly drifted into his mind like the snow outside. If he had someone there she would leave him alone. Proof that she needed to stay away from him. You were…nice. You chatted to him sometimes. Despite only seeing you when the Crest was in need of some attention, he liked being around you. You didn’t fawn over him or expected anything of him, you were just you. And feisty.

He leaned against the front fender, crossing his arms across his broad frame. “How long?”

The mechanics creeper shot out from under the car and your face came into view, a firm scowl in place.

“Listen. You can have it done quickly or you can have it done properly, not both. It’s a delicate piece of machinery, so I suggest you sit your butt back down or find someone else to work on her.”

When he didn't respond, your frown softened. You could see the cogs turning in his head. He was carefully looking down at your face, searchingly, looking like he’s weighing up different parts of a decision before settling on something.

“I have this…thing I have to go to. It’s a weekend away, lots of people.”

He swallows, looking for all the world like a little boy confessing to stealing the last Christmas cookie.

“Would you go with me? Need a partner.”

You are dumbstruck. While you’re staring up at him, your brain has apparently ceased all activity and the only sign you’re still alive is your chest moving up and down rhythmically, and your eyes roaming over his features.

For the longest time, he’s been coming into the shop. Quiet, doesn’t speak unless he absolutely needs to. Driven away several highly skilled mechanics from working on the Crest because he’s so difficult to talk to, exacting and intense.

You disregarded all of that. And you managed to stick. Eventually he would come in asking for you by name and listen intently while you gave him the run-down after each job.

Now, he was towering over you, arms folded and regarding you with an unreadable expression on his face. A flush was slowly creeping up your face. You felt especially vulnerable lying on your back like this while he was…asking you on a date?

“There’s a girl who won’t leave me alone.”

Oh. So he needed a deterrent, not a date. Of course. A tiny twinge of hurt settled in your chest. You brushed it aside and replied in your best attempt at deadpan humour to wipe it away.

“Ok, I’ll be your bodyguard."

“You’re not my bodyguard, it’s...”

While keeping eye contact, a devilish smile playing on your lips, you rolled slowly back underneath the chassis, softly singing.

“-And AIIIIII IAIIII will always love youuuuuu.”

You could hear Din huffing on the other side, shuffling around. You heard his combat boots retreating back to the waiting room.

An hour later you were done with the car and slipped the keys into his large, gloved hand. He always wore the same, dark yellow tipped, buttery soft gloves in winter.

After discussing the necessary details about the car’s repairs, he reluctantly told you more about the weekend you had signed up for. Greef Karga's mountain resort sounded fantastic, and you would, at the very least, have an opportunity to dress up for Christmas. What’s the worst that could happen?

-------

After a quiet ride into the mountains, a winding path leads you to the front of a regal-looking resort. He hadn’t said much during the drive, which you expected, but the little that was exchanged had your mind wandering.

“So….are we meant to be like partners or like…partners? You want this girl to think you’re spoken for, right?

“Yeah.”

“So do we have to kiss?”

His body went rigid almost imperceptibly. You got the impression that he hadn’t thought of this particular detail before proposing his plan.

“No, we don’t have to. Your presence will be enough.”

Oh. Feeling a little deflated at what you perceived to be a second rebuff, you continued looking at the landscape speeding by.

You wondered how bad this girl could be if his blinding charm couldn't scare her off.

The car pulled up to the resort.

As the porter took your luggage off your hands, you trundled through the snow to the impressive entrance to the resort, Din on your heels.

As soon as the doors opened, warmth drifted through, a hint of cinnamon and nutmeg lightly scenting the air. The foyer was huge, a big roaring fireplace in the centre, with the soft tinkle of Christmas music rounding out the cosy atmosphere.

At the far end, an impressive white marble bar was decked with tinsel and lights.

Greef smiled as soon as he saw you, and turned to grab two glasses from the bar counter.

You realised he would make his way over shortly, and it was time to start acting like you were together.

You gave Din a sidelong glance as you knocked the back of your fingers against his, wordlessly prompting him to take your hand.

He looked at you, the notion taking a moment to register. Then he turned his palm and his fingers threaded carefully through yours. He squeezed.

Your heart gave a large, uncomfortable throb at the touch. Well this is new.

Greef made his way over with tumblers, a beaming smile on his face. After handing them to you both, he embraced Din, clapping him on the back.

“Welcome my friend, it’s good to see you and your lovely companion”

You were introduced and the two spent some time making small talk, catching up the way old friends do.

Then you heard a high-pitched yelping sound from across the large room.

“Din, baby is that you?”

An excited clippity clop of heels echoed as the owner of the penetrating shriek made her way over.

As she came closer, you started to appear from behind Greef, who must have been blocking you from her field of vision.

The clippity clop slowed down and turned into a sullen clip clop.

The woman had a sour expression on her face, her eyes shifting between Din and you multiple times before she schooled her face and pushed on.

Trotting closer, she leant forward and smacked a languid kiss on Din's jaw, a fuschia lipstick mark left like a scar in the world's most one-sided battle.

In a move you were sure she thought was sexy, she winked at him.

Feigning disinterest, she turned to you.

“I’m Kraelia, we haven't met?”

You stuck your right hand out, determined to keep a straight face at the absolute farce playing out in front of you, and introduced yourself.

She offered you a limp handshake, retracting her hand too quickly. After a few minutes of niceties, she excused herself, and trotted off again.

You couldn't help the shit-eating grin on your face, turning to Din. The new nickname was dancing on the tip of your tongue.

"Seems like you two go way back baby."

When Din slowly turned his head to you, Greef wisely took the out. “I’m sure you two need to relax and freshen up before tonight’s ball, I’ll leave you to it - your key will be at reception.

With that, he said his goodbyes and wandered off to greet more guests. Din had started walking towards the check-in desk, and you realised he was still holding your hand. He doesn't let go until he reaches over the desk to take the room key.

--------

“There’s only one bed.” you blurted out. He looked up at you, then the bed.

“S’fine, I’ll take the couch.”

You felt conflicted. It was his weekend away, and you didn’t want him to be uncomfortable. More uncomfortable, you thought devilishly, as you remembered his pained look upon seeing the woman he was clearly trying to get away from.

You had never seen anyone try to hide in plain sight before and by gods it was entertaining.

The suite was lavish. A huge snow-white linened bed (the thread count was ridiculously high, you were sure of it) was piled high with Christmas-themed throw pillows and a red velvet throw neatly folded across.

It created an impressive centrepiece to this luxurious space, all soft and rich textures and colours. Din’s voice pulled you out of your musings.

“Just need a quick shower then you can take the bathroom to get ready.”

“Sure baby” you snorted. He huffed agitatedly but let it go.

He really was a man of few words, but you turned to your luggage and started rummaging through your suitcase to pull your outfit together.

He disappeared and as the soothing sounds of the shower drifted out beneath the bathroom door, you idly wondered what he looked like with his shirt off. He was broad and imposing, but up until this point your interactions had mostly been transactional or focused on the Crest, leaving no time to think about the man himself.

You’re not sure how much time passed, but as you turned to put your phone on the nightstand, you swung round and right into a warm chest.

Din. Damp from his shower, steam still pouring off him. A towel slung low around his narrow hips.

He grabbed your upper arms softly, steadying you, but instead it made your vision swim. You were about a hand’s length from his golden, warm skin, a smattering of chest hair right in your line of sight. Muscles lightly flexing as he moved to steady you.

Suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious you brought your palm up to rub the tip of your nose.

“Ooof, you’re so quiet, I didn’t know you were right behind me. Sorry about that.”

He looked down at you for a moment and quietly replied.

“That’s ok.”

Right. Like you didn’t just smoosh your whole face into his deliciously broad chest, while he’s freshly showered and smelling like lemon and warm woods.

You quickly scrambled into the bathroom, your outfit and toiletry bag in hand.

Peering into the grand mirror suspended over the basin, you take a few deep breaths to settle your nerves. He's just the dude from the shop, not a big deal.

The butterflies in your stomach disagreed.

You took your time showering, shaving and dressing, hoping that by the time you were done, your body would have returned to its former relaxed state.

Opening the bathroom door, you see him draped into a large velvet chair on the far end by the window, murmuring into his phone. While he's normally quiet and doesn't raise his voice, this gentle tone was soothing and you felt like you were intruding on a very private moment.

"Yeah buddy, only two more sleeps…..great…..she is? Well be a good boy for aunt Pelli, ok? I love you, see you soon you lil Womp rat."

He chuckled softly when he put the phone down.

"Um, I'm ready, should we head down?"

Your words burst through the domestic little bubble like plates clattering on a tile floor, but if he was startled it didn’t show.

As he rose, he turned around and just...stopped.

He was seemingly frozen in his tracks, his eyes raking over your figure, an expression on his face that you hadn't seen before. His pupils were blown out, and although there was heat in them, his mouth was soft, his lips slightly parted, like a long, slow breath was escaping them.

When it didn't look like he would move, you walked over slowly, like you were trying not to spook a wild animal, and slipped your arm around his, tugging softly.

"Let's go big guy."

The door clicked shut behind you.

Getting into the elevator, the descent to the ballroom seemed to last forever. Mirrors reflecting the awkwardness back at you, you stood rocking on your heels, looking anywhere but his face. Yours was burning, you could feel his eyes on you. Not in a creepy way but like he was seeing you for the first time and couldn’t look away. Every now and then you would catch his right arm slightly lifting, then falling back down. Like the stop-start of a nervous dialogue that you definitely weren’t having.

Din felt…he felt like his brain wasn’t responding anymore. When he turned around in the room and saw you, he was sure he could hear the circuits in his brain explode one by one like a series of shot lightbulbs.

He had seen you loads of times in the shop. Laughing, giving him grief about something, sarcastic banter…..but not in his wildest dreams would he…could he…have imagined how soft and ethereal you would look standing in front of him like that.

Delicate features accentuated by subtle makeup designed to enhance rather than hide, a dark green silk dress softly draping over your curves, your hair not hidden by the headscarf that you liked to wear when you were elbow-deep in grease.

He was hopelessly adrift and only snapped back when your hand curled around his arm and nudged him towards the door. Now you were in this lift and he wanted to say something, do something, anything, to claw back some semblance of normalcy. He didn’t have a single coherent sentence in his head to do it with.

The lift doors dinged and slid open. You looked up at Din and, nodding, took his hand gently before stepping out.

The ballroom was breathtaking. Gilded walls softly glowed from the dimmed chandeliers, bathing the room in softness and warmth. Giant red Poinsettia arrangements were dotted around the sides, with draped garlands lending a traditional colour scheme and framing the giant Christmas tree at the far end of the hall.

You felt like you had stepped into a fairytale. You desperately tried to resist the urge to throw your head back and twirl, sending the deep green silk dress cascading round you like the most exquisite whirlpool. Instead you looked back at Din again, smiling.

Your heart clenched almost painfully as his lips curled into a soft smile, a small dimple forming on the left. Gods he had a dimple? How had you not noticed it before?

You both milled about, talking to guests who came to greet Din, or people that Greef introduced you both to. The latter beamed like a benevolent millionaire, happy that all his friends were under one roof enjoying the festivities with him.

You were fascinated by these people - they were like a roadmap leading further into Din’s life. Each stop, a different story, a tidbit about him that you uncovered and followed, unravelling more as you went along.

You listened, enraptured, as his friend Boba told you about the time they went sand skiing in Peru and he was about to launch into the punchline when a familiar figure called Din over. The voice was unmistakable.

Reluctant to see him go, you stayed with Boba to let him finish the story. You were listening with one ear. You reminded yourself that this was simply because this was the very reason that Din had asked you to come along - to keep an eye out for him.

A few minutes ticked by, and at another one of Boba’s tales you burst out laughing, your head moving to the side. As your eyes opened, your heart stopped. Kraelia had dragged Din under a large sprig of mistletoe that was hanging by the side of the ballroom.

Despite the dreamy surroundings, you felt a familiar fire in your belly - this had you riled up and not in a good way. You thought it was cute when she had put on a petulant little show earlier, but it was time to show her how two play this game.

You calmly walked over to them, neither of them noticing. She had her hands on his upper arms, her big doe eyes trained on him, and a deep pink pout ready and waiting.

As you approached, Din’s eyes shot up to you, wild with panic, imploring you to do something.

Oh I’ll save you big guy. You just watch this.

You teed up your sweetest smile and exclaimed “My love, there you are. I missed you.”

Kraelia sighed loudly and pinned you with an acidic look. Reluctantly she stepped away as you moved confidently towards Din, taking her place.

“Mistletoe? You read my mind.”

Din’s eyes widened as you smiled up at him impishly.

Then your hands snaked around his neck and you pressed your lips to his tenderly. What might have started out as a delicious bit of theatre for your rude intruder suddenly fell away and you felt soft. Exposed. It felt real.

You could feel the sharp intake of air where Din’s nose was pressed against yours, and then he was slotting his mouth to yours more firmly, deepening the kiss. You felt his arms envelop you and pull you closer so no space separated your bodies. The warmth and feeling of safety made your eyelids flutter closed. His tongue swiped at your bottom lip and a moan caught in your throat at how good he tasted; the sensual push and pull dance of tongues exploring and caressing - scattering those butterflies in your belly again.

You don’t know how many moments passed, but when you pulled away, you reluctantly opened your eyes to see Din wearing what you could only describe as a love drunk expression. The two of you were floating on the same cloud, the rest of the world forgotten.

The rest of the night passed in a haze of soft touches and secret glances, and true to his word, Din didn’t wait too long to usher you back into the lift, your backs to the ballroom.

Everything had changed from the last time you were both in the room. It had only been a few hours but it could have been years. Slipping out of your dress, you changed in silence, Din pulling some thick blankets and extra pillows from the cupboard.

Your heart ached. You wanted him close. You softly called to him, patting the space next to you.

“Din…there’s space for one more.”

For a moment it looked like he was warring with himself. Then he dropped the bedding and got into the bed, keeping a respectful distance.

His mind was whirring with so many thoughts. He felt like the world cracked in two when you kissed him in the ballroom. So confident striding up to him, he’d seen a flash of the version of you he knew from the workshop. The two sides finally merged in his mind. The feisty mechanic and the Christmas angel.

The rhythmic rise and fall of your chest revealed you were already asleep. His hands were restless, wanting to touch you but not wanting to overstep. With your back turned to him, your arm was slung over your side, the soft flesh exposed in the slotted rays of moonlight.

He reached out carefully and whisper-softly ran his hand down your arm. You felt like a dream. The next moment, you unceremoniously rolled over and right into the hollow of his chest, the arm that was extended out to you, now cradling you. You started snoring loudly.

He huffed out a soft laugh, careful not to wake you. Slinging his free arm around you, he carefully pulled you closer to him. He nuzzled your hair and slowly drifted off thinking about waking up next to his Christmas angel.

----------

Tagging a few mates, let me know if you want off! And I guess anyone pop me a message if you want...on. Sounded better in my head.

@honestly-shite @sirowsky @anaaaispunk

[maievdenoir]

Secret Santa fic!

This story is Christmas Secret Santa gift for Autumn at @autumnleaves1991-blog . Thanks @ohnopoe who organized this whole thing.

Merry Christmas my dear Autumn. Your stories give me hours of entertainment during last year and I love them so much. I was honoured to be your Secret Santa. Hope you like this story. I fall in love with this story and I´m sure that I´m gonna write another part.

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Word Count: 2k

‼️Warnings: mentions of drug use, addiction, rehab, self-deprecating thoughts, suicidal thoughts, mention of death, mention of alcohol (hope it’s all)‼️

You were volunteering in this rehab about two years now. It looked pleasant in CV and it gave you a feeling that you doing something that is not a complete waste of time. It essentially improves your creativity, listening to those life stories. Your writing slowly becoming more realistic.

Some people attend these local meetings regularly for couple months, some of them even years. But every now and then there is somebody new. Somebody who arrived once or twice and then jump it addiction again. It's depressing, but you can see on those who willingly stay that program really helps.

You really wish this program would help him. You do not recall his name but he hops in and out regularly even longer than you are there. He always comes with his supporting friend who tried to flirt with you once, but you politely tell him to stop. Sometimes you dearly wish to know his name. He was handsome, but he was not the guaranteed hottie. His ball cap was always on, and his head has been always tilted down so nobody can properly see his face. He looks like he has no motivation to get better but his friend care of him so he is trying to repeatedly get him back. Sometimes it takes weeks, sometimes months.

Christmas time is magical. It looked like a miracle when he shoved up third week in a row. This week the session was modest Christmas party and the guy showed up without his friend. He wasn’t talkative, just sit there and drinks non-alcoholic punch and you was a little bit proud of him that he showed up.

When one of the sponsors starts talking you sit next to him and start listening. After couple of minutes you looked at him. He was studying an empty paper cup.

“Find something interesting in there?” You asked him.

“Huh?” He looked up at you.

“Just that maybe it helps if you listen to him a little.” You don’t want to sound like you forcibly trying lecturing him or something but you kind of thought it will help if he talked with somebody here. To give him the feeling of support of the group and the centre.

“You think?”

“I know it’s hard, but look at you. Third week in a row? You never kept it that long before!” You tried to sound cheerful, but he probably just thinks you pity him.

“That I was not here does not necessarily mean I was not clean. Besides, how do you know? Are you keep tracking me or something? Following me around?” He was rude, and you wanted to hit his stupidly handsome face so much.

“Well ok, this was not a good idea. I'm sorry, I tried to cheer you up a little but you are not interested. I understand. Can we just pretend that I didn’t say anything?” His facial expression changed. He probably realised that his prejudice was stronger than his rational side and that you indeed have good intentions.

“No, I'm sorry. People here just tiptoeing around me all the time because I relapsed so many times. It’s shame and I know it…” He was ashamed of his reaction to you. He nearly forgets how to talk to people. He avoids them all the time, rarely have conversation besides boys.

“It´s no shame, it happens. You need to find something to keep fighting for. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, because it’s not. But life worth it!” You were so optimistic. You shine with positive energy, and he felt like a cactus next to the sunflower.

“Oh yeah? And what concrete is worth it? The shitty job? Abandoned apartment? Friends, that go out with you on Friday night just because they feel sorry for you?” He felt empty. You do not know him. He felt like a burden to everybody. Especially his kid. That poor little girl used to be better without him. He loves her more than his life. That’s why he let his ex-wife and little Josie live their life. They don’t deserve to worry about his busted ass.

“Sunrise worth it! Morning breeze worth it! Life is worth it! Love worth it! Stargazing is worth it! Ah and cold beer on the beach definitely worth it!” He smiled on that last one. “That is the start of the list of things you will not be able to ever experience if you overdose and die.”

He can try to scare you away, but you are stubborn as a mule. “I´m still struggling with motivation. I don’t want to be my friends’ burden.” He admitted. He didn’t know why he was telling you this but you – to a stranger – a girl he has been ogling every time he decides to give life another go.

“I´m sure you are not a burden; they love you. Especially that flirty guy you came here with!”

“Santiago? Oh, for the last three years I’m occupying his spare room and he needed to take care of my nearly overdose ass too many times. Maybe it will be better if I died. It will be easier for everybody.”

“You would be missed!” You unconsciously grab his calloused hand. His heart skips a beat; he nearly forgets he owns one. Last couple of years his life depends only on getting money on coke or at least cigarettes and beer Santiago sponsored him and giving him a job in his mechanic store.

“Who would miss me? You, kind stranger?”

“I always waited for you to come back” This one sentence gives him a better feeling than his beloved coke in a long time. He thought, that for a second world become brighter.

“Aren’t you caring for a stranger too much?” He leans back in his chair and worry look, hoping he didn’t really scare you away.

“It’s that really a bad thing?” Your smile was so hopeful, he even wishes that in another life you two would meet under lucky star of better circumstances in a coffee shop. He would not be a junkie and you would like to go on date with him. But that’s not happening. He would never be enough for somebody like you. Not with all his baggage – struggling even with basic life.

“Spare your heart for somebody who is worth it saving.”

“Oh, you are worth saving. Believe me...” You waited for his name.

“Francisco… Frankie – My name is Frankie” He introduced himself.

“Nice to finally meet you Frankie!” you rolled his name on your tongue and realised how good it feels finally, after all that time, know his name.

“Is it?” He asked with a small modest smile on his face.

“For me is.”

“You are so nice; do you know that? Too nice to some ex-military coke addict who only deserves slap his stupid face.” Maybe he wanted to give a life one last try. At least he wants to give these sessions another try.

“That might be true, but Kindness is punk.”

The beep signalised there is the end of the meeting. You both just stand up. He looks at you and you smiled at him. “Are you coming next week?”

“I hope…” He answered.

[hopeamarsu]

Love this 💕

His reaction is so on point but also so heartbreaking because he is in his head. But I’m so happy for them when things finally came out!

The ending left me spinning in the best way possible!

Old Beginnings | Benny Miller

Ship: Benny Miller x Reader Summary: Some conversations are easier than others, and some are a unnecessarily messy disaster, brewing in the darkness in a way that only Benny could create Word Count: 2.8k+ Warnings: Miscommunication, idiocy, emotions, Benny deserves his own warning because honestly… he is the only warning you need for this omg Author’s Note: This is for the utterly incredible @daffodin​​​ for my Secret Santa gift event! I’m sorry it took so long, and thank you for your patience. On top of that, and far more importantly, thank you for your friendship. Getting to know you this past year and counting you as a friend has been a true treasure and I am so so grateful to know you. I’ve loved all of our ridiculous talks, our insane brainstorming, and our eerily similar musical tastes. I hope you have the BEST new year, and I can’t say how much love is being sent with this utterly ridiculous fic. All the hugs and love 💕

Looking back, you couldn’t exactly pinpoint when you had fallen into a relationship with Benny Miller. Years of friendship blurred into something you never could have expected, something that was both heavy and light, almost tangible to your exhausted mind, as if you could reach out into the darkness and feel the magnitude of what sat between you.

You couldn’t say it was a surprise the first time he kissed you, moving achingly slowly as he tried to restrain his excitement. All the signs were there, and yet… When had you come to expect it? To anticipate the way he would draw you in, forever the moth to his flame.

Frankie argued it had begun at the fights, all those times Benny refused to be patched up, only to inevitably yield when you would push past his complaints with a roll of your eyes, and bandage the suddenly silent boxer after every fight. It had become tradition now, so much so that Benny never fought you or complained, merely handed you the first aid kit with a grateful smile and a promise that next time he’d make sure there was less for you to patch up.

That was when Frankie started counting you as a couple.

Santi disagreed.

Keep reading

[hopeamarsu]

EEEEEEEEEE!

Oh how I love it ❤️ LOVE IT!

I love how you describe Pero and his weariness when he’s marching along. It must be devastating to get turned down town after town, so no wonder he is feeling grumpy. There is a hint of wistfulness in him when he sees the girls dancing and the food on the table and it’s so wonderfully done!

And I love how he goes for the handshake, position in society be damned! It made me giggle 🤗

I’m also very much into Pero’s chivalry, when he leaves the room and just goes outside (doesn’t argue with the Lord over promises unkept or with RC for that matter).

I also love, love the idea of drinking the night away, just sharing the room and the warmth and the drink. And when he pulls RC to sleep in his arms, I melted 🥺

A truly wonderful Christmas story and I love the fluffy and hopeful ending ❤️❤️ Thank you so much for this gift, I will cherish it a long time!

A Very Merry Christmas

This is my Secret Santa fic for the lovely @hopeamarsu ! Merry Christmas and I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Pero Tovar x F!Reader Summary: there's a mix up with the last available room, but you and Pero can learn to share, can't you? Warnings: only one bed trope! Food, meat, alcohol consumption, grumpy Pero but he cheers up when he gets drunk, fluffy at the end because it's Christmas Words: 2000

Fic Masterlist

Pero was used to traveling by foot. He quickly became accustomed to the squelch of mud that had poured through the holes in his old boots and the wisp of icy wind that whipped at the uncovered skin at his shoulder. The hunch of his back and the aches in his legs were familiar as he trudged through yet another unwelcoming village that wouldn’t take him in for the night. His last hope of a good nights rest was a town that he was pointed in the direction of, which he could see as he crested over the hill. The sun had set long ago but the town emanated its own light. A bright star amongst the blackened landscape, Pero was almost excited to see what was on offer. Lights meant people, which usually meant revelry which sometimes afforded to generosity.

Pero wasn’t one for celebrating tradition but he couldn’t help the small quirk of his lip at the sight of dancing and singing in the town square. Young women were being spun around to the rhythm of drums, flute players were skipping around one another whilst poets made up lyrics on the spot. However, Pero was more interested in the feast on display along the courtyard walls; platters of juicy fruits from around the world, vegetables cooked in a variety of ways, sauces thickened with chunks of bread, a whole boars head was the centerpiece on one side of the courtyard, a swan roasted in its feathers the centrepiece on the other side. There were barrels of wine and mead scattered everywhere, some thrown on the raging fire in the middle once they were empty.

Any other time of year Pero would have turned back the way he came from, the whole scene looking like something straight out of a Bible verse warning about what to expect at the gates of hell. Instead, Pero allowed himself to relax and enjoy the merriment. This would be a good place to spend the night. He just had to find somewhere to stay.

Usually, at times like these, the inns would be full but on asking a few of the more sober locals, Pero found that the Lord had opened up his manor to travelers this holiday season and Pero was hoping to be one of the lucky few to take him up on the offer.

On arrival the door was already open, welcoming everyone in to indulge in the Lord and Lady’s generosity. The fireplace was decorated with a wreath of mistletoe and sprigs of holly. The room was warm despite the lack of people and Pero wondered if he had arrived at the wrong manor.

“Have you come to rest, young man?” An elderly gentleman clad in a shroud of blue cloth descended the staircase towards Pero. On realizing he was being spoken to, Pero lowered his head in respect and cleared his throat.

“I am, Sir. I was told you may have rooms available. I can pay,” Pero shook the pouch of coins at his hip but the Lord waved off the offer.

“It is Christmas, there will be no such payment necessary,” the Lord smiled kindly and pointed to the stairs as he stepped off them, “we have one room left on the third floor at the end of the corridor. It’s at the back of the house, so no fire but there are plenty of blankets.”

Pero couldn’t believe his luck. He smiled gratefully and before he could remember his place he took the Lord’s hand and shook it, hoping to express in that one action how thankful he was to have a warm bed to sleep in this night.

-

You had traveled for the holidays this year, with nothing but your bag on your back you had eventually found yourself in a small town along the river you’d been following for the past two days. You had always had a lust for adventure, your parents had tried to steer you away from a life on the road but hadn’t been successful. You believed there was so much more to life than being forced to settle down and be someone’s wife until you died. So, going against everyone’s expectations, you saved up enough coin to leave the village you’d grown up in to pave your own way in life.

You found a room to stay in for a couple of nights, given by the kind Lady of the manor who plied you with handfuls of blankets and made you promise to let her know if she could do anything else for you. You shivered as you unloaded the blankets onto the bed in the corner, immediately taking out your journal from your bag. You would need to write home and let your mother know you were safe. But before you could do that a strange man was barging into your room, muttering under his breath about a ‘warm bed’ and ‘feasting for days’.

“Excuse me,” you announced your presence, jumping from the bed where he nearly collided with you. He jumped back in surprise, face twisting into wide-eyed confusion and then anger as he regarded you suspiciously.

“Who are you?” he demanded rather than asked, looking you up and down as if he could determine exactly who you were by the clothes you were wearing.

“Who are you?” you shot back, increasingly alarmed that he wasn’t leaving you in peace. He looked back towards the door he came through before grunting his disapproval at you.

“This is the room at the end of the corridor?” He phrased it as a question but there was no mistake, this was the only room at the back of the third floor, it was the one the Lady had directed you to.

“Yes. I was given this room by the Lady of the manor,” you kept your emotions in check, despite wanting to shrink under the man’s gaze. He had a fiery look in his eyes, no longer directed at you but at the predicament he had found himself in.

“The Lord told me it was free,” he muttered, hands flexing and un-flexing at his side. It reminded you of the nervous gesture your mother would make when she was working out a problem, except this problem had only one solution: it was your room first, and you weren’t going to give it up so easily.

“Well, I was here first, so…” you shrugged, breathing slowly through your nose as he shot you a thunderous glare.

“Clearly, idiota,” he pulled his bag higher up his shoulder and spun on his heels, leaving the room with nothing but a slam of the door behind him. You huffed out a breath of relief before collapsing on the bed. Hopefully, there would be no more surprises this night.

-

You couldn’t get him out of your mind. He was brisk and rude but you couldn’t help feeling bad for the man that simply wanted a room to rest his head for the night. It had you pacing across the bedroom, hands sore from where you’d absentmindedly scratched them in thought. You eventually paused in front of the large square window that overlooked the narrow path alongside the house where stragglers from the festivities in town were leaning heavily against tree trunks, uneasy on their feet after a day of drinking. That was when a particularly scruffy man caught your eye, sat atop an upturned bucket, a flagon of wine never far from his lips and a permanent scowl on his face.

You pried open the window with a small creak and offered a “psst” as though trying to catch the attention of an easily startled cat. He took another large swig from his drink but didn’t look up.

“Hey, you,” you whisper-shouted, suddenly aware that you didn’t know his name and trying not to catch the attention of anyone else. You side-eyed the drunks but they were unaware of your presence. It was on your fifth attempt that your stranger looked up at you with a murderous glare.

“You don’t give up, do you?”

You held back a gasp and swallowed your nerves. You were trying to be nice and you weren’t going to let him break your reserve.

“I’m sorry I took your room,” you began, and you think you saw his frown straighten but it was difficult to tell in the lack of sunlight.

“I am unbothered. I have spent many a night under the stars,” he grumbled. He stood, making to walk away before your urgent cry stopped him in his tracks.

“No, don’t leave. I feel bad and if you are willing, you can come up and sleep on the floor,” you closed your eyes as you spoke, not daring to see his reaction to your invitation. You heard nothing for a while, no answer but no footsteps running away either. You dared to peak through one eye to see him staring with a look of amusement. At least he isn’t angry, you thought.

“You are strange and possibly stupid…”

You raised an eyebrow, feeling your heart thudding faster in hope. “But you accept?”

He grunted something about inviting strangers into your room but you couldn’t quite hear, too busy watching on in confused shock as he took a run up to the house.

“What are you doing?” you leaned half your body through the window to see him pulling himself up by the vines that grew along the wall. As soon as he got within reaching distance you grabbed his hand and pulled him into the room, the two of you landing hard on the wooden floor.

You took a moment to catch your breaths. When you realized what he had done you poked him harshly in the ribs where he lay next to you.

“There are stairs you could have climbed,” you scolded.

“If anybody finds me in here with you there will be trouble,” he breathed, opening the flagon he’d secured to his hip and taking a messy swig. In that moment you realized what you’d done. Allowing an unruly, bad-mannered stranger into the room you were staying in. And you didn’t even know his name. You offered yours in the hopes he would tell you his.

“Pero,” he replied, offering you a drink which you accepted without hesitating. You would need it if you were going to get through this night.

It wasn’t long before the wine left you both loose-lipped and relaxed. You’d moved to the bed, sat cross legged and close to each other as you exchanged stories of your travels, of the troubles you had gotten yourselves in, of the close calls with authority that had you muffling your giggles into the blankets wrapped around you.

Pero surprisingly warmed up to you when he was full of drink. There was less scowling and muttering insults, and more of a twinkle in his eye. He offered stories that had you disbelieving, told tales of long lost friends, of family he wished to see again. You weren’t sure if any of it were true, or if he was simply finding solace in a harmless stranger. Whatever the case may be, you were entertained and felt the happiest you had been in your travels so far.

Before long you were growing tired, head becoming heavy from a long day on foot and an even longer evening drinking with Pero. He could see your eyes beginning to close and moved to leave you to the comfort of the bed. But the distance didn’t feel right and you refused to let go of the hold you had on his arm.

“Stay,” you demanded, voice slow and groggy. Pero wondered if you knew what you were saying, or if he interpreted your comment correctly, but he was too tired and lonely to deny you your request. He shifted on the bed until he was lying down and pulled you half on top of him, your head resting in the crook of his neck, his arm secured around your waist to keep you at his side.

The sun was peaking over the hill, welcoming in a new day when you both fell asleep to the distant sounds of festive revelry, and Pero’s last thought was that he hoped you wouldn’t be gone when he woke up.

[sirowsky]

Aw, this was so cute 😍

Secret Santa 2021: Mistletoe and Mischief

Merry Very Late Christmas lovely Andy @ohnopoe! Santa's ass got stuck in the chimney so this is a bit late for actual Christmas (sorry) but rather a Happy 2022 gift! Thanks again for organising this, it was fun!

This is a Modern!Din AU. Din Djarin with F!Reader, festiveness, fake dating, only one bed, mutual pining. Yeah I bunged them all in there because apparently I enjoy being extra. I hope you like this <3

Warnings: Din Djarin x F!Reader, kissing, Olympic-level pettiness, Christmas, please let me know if I missed something. Unbeta'd.

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Din sat in the waiting room of the specialist auto repair shop, mindlessly scrolling his phone. Every article was Christmas this, Christmas that. If it hadn’t been for the kid, he would have just stayed in his house and never paid attention to any of it. A little smile crept up his face at the thought of his son, who was visiting Aunt Peli for a few days before Christmas.

A few minutes into his scrolling, Greef Karga pops up on his screen, a FaceTime call ringing loudly in the quiet room. His heart sank as he realised that he knew what this was about.

He swiped and instantly the screen animated. “Mando! You’re a difficult man to track.”

Din winced. He had subtly, not-so-subtly been avoiding this phone call, but he had to get it out of the way one way or another.

“Yeah, it’s busy with the kid and catching up on things.”

Greef chuckled. His booming voice seemed much louder than it needed to be in the quiet of the workshop.

“You haven’t RSVP’d to my invitation, my friend. You skipped last year’s function, I hope it’s not what you’re planning to do again.”

“You know why I skipped last year, Karga. Is she going to be there?”

“Of course she is, she’s an old friend. If I had to uninvite every person who bats their eyelashes at you, my guest list would be empty”, Laughter thundered through the phone, Greef very amused with himself.

Din sighed.

“Alright. I’ll be there. But I’m not staying late at the Christmas ball. Not my scene.”

“None of this is your scene, which is the point, my friend. I await your arrival with optimism.” And with that the window closed.

Din stared into the middle distance. He needed to get out of this somehow.

He trundled into the workshop to see how far you were with the Crest. He only trusted one person with his gunmetal grey Jaguar E-type and she was currently on her back underneath the chassis.

Your jean-clad legs stuck out underneath the car and as he stared at your shoelaces a thought subtly drifted into his mind like the snow outside. If he had someone there she would leave him alone. Proof that she needed to stay away from him. You were…nice. You chatted to him sometimes. Despite only seeing you when the Crest was in need of some attention, he liked being around you. You didn’t fawn over him or expected anything of him, you were just you. And feisty.

He leaned against the front fender, crossing his arms across his broad frame. “How long?”

The mechanics creeper shot out from under the car and your face came into view, a firm scowl in place.

“Listen. You can have it done quickly or you can have it done properly, not both. It’s a delicate piece of machinery, so I suggest you sit your butt back down or find someone else to work on her.”

When he didn't respond, your frown softened. You could see the cogs turning in his head. He was carefully looking down at your face, searchingly, looking like he’s weighing up different parts of a decision before settling on something.

“I have this…thing I have to go to. It’s a weekend away, lots of people.”

He swallows, looking for all the world like a little boy confessing to stealing the last Christmas cookie.

“Would you go with me? Need a partner.”

You are dumbstruck. While you’re staring up at him, your brain has apparently ceased all activity and the only sign you’re still alive is your chest moving up and down rhythmically, and your eyes roaming over his features.

For the longest time, he’s been coming into the shop. Quiet, doesn’t speak unless he absolutely needs to. Driven away several highly skilled mechanics from working on the Crest because he’s so difficult to talk to, exacting and intense.

You disregarded all of that. And you managed to stick. Eventually he would come in asking for you by name and listen intently while you gave him the run-down after each job.

Now, he was towering over you, arms folded and regarding you with an unreadable expression on his face. A flush was slowly creeping up your face. You felt especially vulnerable lying on your back like this while he was…asking you on a date?

“There’s a girl who won’t leave me alone.”

Oh. So he needed a deterrent, not a date. Of course. A tiny twinge of hurt settled in your chest. You brushed it aside and replied in your best attempt at deadpan humour to wipe it away.

“Ok, I’ll be your bodyguard."

“You’re not my bodyguard, it’s...”

While keeping eye contact, a devilish smile playing on your lips, you rolled slowly back underneath the chassis, softly singing.

“-And AIIIIII IAIIII will always love youuuuuu.”

You could hear Din huffing on the other side, shuffling around. You heard his combat boots retreating back to the waiting room.

An hour later you were done with the car and slipped the keys into his large, gloved hand. He always wore the same, dark yellow tipped, buttery soft gloves in winter.

After discussing the necessary details about the car’s repairs, he reluctantly told you more about the weekend you had signed up for. Greef Karga's mountain resort sounded fantastic, and you would, at the very least, have an opportunity to dress up for Christmas. What’s the worst that could happen?

-------

After a quiet ride into the mountains, a winding path leads you to the front of a regal-looking resort. He hadn’t said much during the drive, which you expected, but the little that was exchanged had your mind wandering.

“So….are we meant to be like partners or like…partners? You want this girl to think you’re spoken for, right?

“Yeah.”

“So do we have to kiss?”

His body went rigid almost imperceptibly. You got the impression that he hadn’t thought of this particular detail before proposing his plan.

“No, we don’t have to. Your presence will be enough.”

Oh. Feeling a little deflated at what you perceived to be a second rebuff, you continued looking at the landscape speeding by.

You wondered how bad this girl could be if his blinding charm couldn't scare her off.

The car pulled up to the resort.

As the porter took your luggage off your hands, you trundled through the snow to the impressive entrance to the resort, Din on your heels.

As soon as the doors opened, warmth drifted through, a hint of cinnamon and nutmeg lightly scenting the air. The foyer was huge, a big roaring fireplace in the centre, with the soft tinkle of Christmas music rounding out the cosy atmosphere.

At the far end, an impressive white marble bar was decked with tinsel and lights.

Greef smiled as soon as he saw you, and turned to grab two glasses from the bar counter.

You realised he would make his way over shortly, and it was time to start acting like you were together.

You gave Din a sidelong glance as you knocked the back of your fingers against his, wordlessly prompting him to take your hand.

He looked at you, the notion taking a moment to register. Then he turned his palm and his fingers threaded carefully through yours. He squeezed.

Your heart gave a large, uncomfortable throb at the touch. Well this is new.

Greef made his way over with tumblers, a beaming smile on his face. After handing them to you both, he embraced Din, clapping him on the back.

“Welcome my friend, it’s good to see you and your lovely companion”

You were introduced and the two spent some time making small talk, catching up the way old friends do.

Then you heard a high-pitched yelping sound from across the large room.

“Din, baby is that you?”

An excited clippity clop of heels echoed as the owner of the penetrating shriek made her way over.

As she came closer, you started to appear from behind Greef, who must have been blocking you from her field of vision.

The clippity clop slowed down and turned into a sullen clip clop.

The woman had a sour expression on her face, her eyes shifting between Din and you multiple times before she schooled her face and pushed on.

Trotting closer, she leant forward and smacked a languid kiss on Din's jaw, a fuschia lipstick mark left like a scar in the world's most one-sided battle.

In a move you were sure she thought was sexy, she winked at him.

Feigning disinterest, she turned to you.

“I’m Kraelia, we haven't met?”

You stuck your right hand out, determined to keep a straight face at the absolute farce playing out in front of you, and introduced yourself.

She offered you a limp handshake, retracting her hand too quickly. After a few minutes of niceties, she excused herself, and trotted off again.

You couldn't help the shit-eating grin on your face, turning to Din. The new nickname was dancing on the tip of your tongue.

"Seems like you two go way back baby."

When Din slowly turned his head to you, Greef wisely took the out. “I’m sure you two need to relax and freshen up before tonight’s ball, I’ll leave you to it - your key will be at reception.

With that, he said his goodbyes and wandered off to greet more guests. Din had started walking towards the check-in desk, and you realised he was still holding your hand. He doesn't let go until he reaches over the desk to take the room key.

--------

“There’s only one bed.” you blurted out. He looked up at you, then the bed.

“S’fine, I’ll take the couch.”

You felt conflicted. It was his weekend away, and you didn’t want him to be uncomfortable. More uncomfortable, you thought devilishly, as you remembered his pained look upon seeing the woman he was clearly trying to get away from.

You had never seen anyone try to hide in plain sight before and by gods it was entertaining.

The suite was lavish. A huge snow-white linened bed (the thread count was ridiculously high, you were sure of it) was piled high with Christmas-themed throw pillows and a red velvet throw neatly folded across.

It created an impressive centrepiece to this luxurious space, all soft and rich textures and colours. Din’s voice pulled you out of your musings.

“Just need a quick shower then you can take the bathroom to get ready.”

“Sure baby” you snorted. He huffed agitatedly but let it go.

He really was a man of few words, but you turned to your luggage and started rummaging through your suitcase to pull your outfit together.

He disappeared and as the soothing sounds of the shower drifted out beneath the bathroom door, you idly wondered what he looked like with his shirt off. He was broad and imposing, but up until this point your interactions had mostly been transactional or focused on the Crest, leaving no time to think about the man himself.

You’re not sure how much time passed, but as you turned to put your phone on the nightstand, you swung round and right into a warm chest.

Din. Damp from his shower, steam still pouring off him. A towel slung low around his narrow hips.

He grabbed your upper arms softly, steadying you, but instead it made your vision swim. You were about a hand’s length from his golden, warm skin, a smattering of chest hair right in your line of sight. Muscles lightly flexing as he moved to steady you.

Suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious you brought your palm up to rub the tip of your nose.

“Ooof, you’re so quiet, I didn’t know you were right behind me. Sorry about that.”

He looked down at you for a moment and quietly replied.

“That’s ok.”

Right. Like you didn’t just smoosh your whole face into his deliciously broad chest, while he’s freshly showered and smelling like lemon and warm woods.

You quickly scrambled into the bathroom, your outfit and toiletry bag in hand.

Peering into the grand mirror suspended over the basin, you take a few deep breaths to settle your nerves. He's just the dude from the shop, not a big deal.

The butterflies in your stomach disagreed.

You took your time showering, shaving and dressing, hoping that by the time you were done, your body would have returned to its former relaxed state.

Opening the bathroom door, you see him draped into a large velvet chair on the far end by the window, murmuring into his phone. While he's normally quiet and doesn't raise his voice, this gentle tone was soothing and you felt like you were intruding on a very private moment.

"Yeah buddy, only two more sleeps…..great…..she is? Well be a good boy for aunt Pelli, ok? I love you, see you soon you lil Womp rat."

He chuckled softly when he put the phone down.

"Um, I'm ready, should we head down?"

Your words burst through the domestic little bubble like plates clattering on a tile floor, but if he was startled it didn’t show.

As he rose, he turned around and just...stopped.

He was seemingly frozen in his tracks, his eyes raking over your figure, an expression on his face that you hadn't seen before. His pupils were blown out, and although there was heat in them, his mouth was soft, his lips slightly parted, like a long, slow breath was escaping them.

When it didn't look like he would move, you walked over slowly, like you were trying not to spook a wild animal, and slipped your arm around his, tugging softly.

"Let's go big guy."

The door clicked shut behind you.

Getting into the elevator, the descent to the ballroom seemed to last forever. Mirrors reflecting the awkwardness back at you, you stood rocking on your heels, looking anywhere but his face. Yours was burning, you could feel his eyes on you. Not in a creepy way but like he was seeing you for the first time and couldn’t look away. Every now and then you would catch his right arm slightly lifting, then falling back down. Like the stop-start of a nervous dialogue that you definitely weren’t having.

Delicate features accentuated by subtle makeup designed to enhance rather than hide, a dark green silk dress softly draping over your curves, your hair not hidden by the headscarf that you liked to wear when you were elbow-deep in grease.

Din felt…he felt like his brain wasn’t responding anymore. When he turned around in the room and saw you, he was sure he could hear the circuits in his brain explode one by one like a series of shot lightbulbs.

He had seen you loads of times in the shop. Laughing, giving him grief about something, sarcastic banter…..but not in his wildest dreams would he…could he…have imagined how soft and ethereal you would look standing in front of him like that.

He was hopelessly adrift and only snapped back when your hand curled around his arm and nudged him towards the door. Now you were in this lift and he wanted to say something, do something, anything, to claw back some semblance of normalcy. He wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked. How you completely knocked him out. He didn’t have a single coherent sentence in his head to do it with.

The lift doors dinged and slid open. You looked up at Din and, nodding, took his hand gently before stepping out.

The ballroom was breathtaking. Gilded walls softly glowed from the dimmed chandeliers, bathing the room in softness and warmth. Giant red Poinsettia arrangements were dotted around the sides, with draped garlands lending a traditional colour scheme and framing the giant Christmas tree at the far end of the hall.

You felt like you had stepped into a fairytale. You desperately tried to resist the urge to throw your head back and twirl, sending the deep green silk dress cascading round you like the most exquisite whirlpool. Instead you looked back at Din again, smiling.

Your heart clenched almost painfully as his lips curled into a soft smile, a small dimple forming on the left. Gods he had a dimple? How had you not noticed it before?

You both milled about, talking to guests who came to greet Din, or people that Greef introduced you both to. The latter beamed like a benevolent millionnaire, happy that all his friends were under one room enjoying the festivities with him.

You were fascinated by these people - they were like a roadmap leading further into Din’s life. Each stop, a different story, a tidbit about him that you uncovered and followed, unravelling more as you went along.

You listened, enraptured, as his friend Boba told you about the time they went sand skiing in Peru and he was about to launch into the punchline when a familiar figure called Din over. The tone was unmistakable.

Reluctant to see him go, you stayed with Boba to let him finish the story. You were listening with one ear. You reminded yourself that this was simply because this was the very reason that Din had asked you to come along - to keep an eye out for him.

A few minutes ticked by, and at another one of Boba’s tales you burst out laughing, your head moving to the side. As your eyes opened, your heart stopped. Kraelia had dragged Din under a large sprig of mistletoe that was hanging by the side of the ballroom.

Despite the dreamy surroundings, you felt a familiar fire in your belly - this had you riled up and not in a good way. You thought it was cute when she had put on a petulant little show earlier, but it was time to show her how two play this game.

You calmly walked over to them, neither of them noticing. She had her hands on his upper arms, her big doe eyes trained on him, and a deep pink pout ready and waiting.

As you approached, Din’s eyes shot up to you, wild with panic, imploring you to do something.

Oh I’ll save you big guy. You just watch this.

You teed up your sweetest smile and exclaimed “My love, there you are. I missed you.”

Kraelia sighed loudly and pinned you with an acidic look. Reluctantly she stepped away as you moved confidently towards Din, taking her place.

“Mistletoe my love? You read my mind.”

Din’s eyes widened as you smiled up at him impishly.

Then your hands snaked around his neck and you pressed your lips to his tenderly. What might have started out as a delicious bit of theatre for your rude intruder suddenly fell away and you felt soft. Exposed. It felt real.

You could feel the sharp intake of air where Din’s nose was pressed against yours, and then he was slotting his mouth to yours more firmly, deepening the kiss. You felt his arms envelop you and pull you closer so no space separated your bodies. The warmth and feeling of safety made your eyelids flutter closed. His tongue swiped at your bottom lip and a moan caught in your throat at how good he tasted; the sensual push and pull dance of tongues exploring and caressing reigniting those butterflies in your belly.

You don’t know how many moments passed, but when you pulled away, you reluctantly opened your eyes to see Din wearing what you could only describe as a love drunk expression. The two of you were floating on the same cloud, the rest of the world forgotten.

The rest of the night passed in a haze of soft touches and secret glances, and true to his word, Din didn’t wait too long to usher you back into the lift, your backs to the ballroom.

Everything had changed from the last time you were both in the room. It had only been a few hours but it could have been years. Slipping out of your dress, you changed in silence, Din pulling some thick blankets and extra pillows from the cupboard.

Your heart ached. You wanted him close. You softly called to him, patting the space next to you.

“Din…there’s space for one more.”

For a moment it looked like he was warring with himself. Then he dropped the bedding and got into the bed, keeping a respectful distance.

His mind was whirring with so many thoughts. He felt like the world cracked in two when you kissed him in the ballroom. So confident striding up to him, he’d seen a flash of the version of you he knew from the workshop. The two sides finally merged in his mind. The feisty mechanic and the Christmas angel.

The rhythmic rise and fall of your chest revealed you were already asleep. His hands were restless, wanting to touch you but not wanting to overstep. With your back turned to him, your arm was slung over your side, the soft flesh exposed in the slotted rays of moonlight.

He reached out carefully and whisper-softly ran his hand down your arm. You felt like a dream. The next moment, you unceremoniously rolled over and right into the hollow of his chest, the arm that was extended out to you, now cradling you. You started snoring loudly.

He huffed out a soft laugh, careful not to wake you. Slinging his free arm around you, he carefully pulled you closer to him. He nuzzled your hair and slowly drifted off thinking about waking up next to his Christmas Angel.

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Tagging a few mates, let me know if you want off! And I guess anyone pop me a message if you want...on. Sounded better in my head.

@honestly-shite @sirowsky @anaaaispunk