#Startrekkingaroundasgard's winter gift exchange | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sirowsky · 1 year

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Surviving Christmas

At last, December has arrived, and I can share this lovely little Christmas tale, as part of @startrekkingaroundasgard 's Winter Gift Exchange!

My giftee is @firstofficerwiggles and I hope you'll find this cute and fluffy and not too long ;-)

Description: A reluctantly rich heiress, having recently inherited your mother's fortune after her passing, you're not at all feeling the spirit of the holidays. But you've stupidly agreed to go to a party. One which might end up being the best decision you've ever made.

Warnings: Din Djarin x Female Reader, no y/n, no physical description of reader, deceased parent, mild tones of sadness/grief, Christmas themes, fake dating, plenty of fluff, happy ending. Word Count: 6500 Author's Masterlist

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He was, in a word, mysterious. Mr. Din Djarin. Silent, but not in a brooding sort of way. It seemed more as though his mind was always occupied, always observing. Which was prudent of him since he was a security guard, but it annoyed you.

Primarily because you found him intriguing and wanted to learn more about him, but your questions were generally met with shrugs or the very briefest and unembroidered answers that he could come up with. Which led you to the assumption that he didn’t share your interest in getting more acquainted, for any reason.

It wasn’t like you wanted to jump his bones, although he was ridiculously handsome. It was more like he was a puzzle that you were itching to solve. Made even more infuriating by the realization that every time you managed to find two pieces that fit together, the image changed and nothing made sense. So, you lived under a constant cloud of frustration, as the man refused to come into focus.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if not for the fact that you couldn’t avoid him, even for a moment, since he was your protector and currently lived in your guest room. You weren’t really a celebrity, you were just rich, which put you in the public eye even though that was where you least wanted to be.

Your wealth wasn’t earned, it had been passed to you at the death of your extremely ambitious mother, about ten months ago, and although you’d given heaps of it to people in need, it never seemed to diminish. And your generosity had of course not gone unnoticed by the public, which was why you were now stuck in the company of a man that seemed unable to enjoy anything.

Coming up on your first Christmas without your mother didn’t help either. She may have been a career-woman and a real shark when it came to business, but at home, she’d been warm and kind. Your only real issue with her throughout your life, had been how absent she’d been for so much of the year, travelling all over the world for her ambitions.

But Christmas had been her constant. The one holiday she’d never missed, never allowed her work to steal her away from, making it your favourite time of year. She’d been all the family you’d ever had and now she was gone. It made you want to jump forwards in time and just avoid the whole holiday, but sadly, science had not yet figured out how.

Instead, you’d stupidly promised to appear at a private but luxurious party, in a penthouse apartment in New York, because the owner and host was your best friend and you couldn’t turn him down. He was trying to help, you knew that. Trying to distract you from the loss, but no manner of glitter or glamour was gonna make you forget that she wouldn’t be there.

Still, as the day arrived, you went all out. Because if you were gonna be trapped at a party being miserable, you were at least gonna fake it with style. And boy, were you gonna have to fake it.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” you declared as Mr. Djarin opened your bedroom door at the exact time you’d asked him to.

He said nothing in response, as always, and you caught his eyes quickly travelling over your form before he stepped aside to let you pass. But it wasn’t an appreciative glance. It was merely to assess how vulnerable you were. If you could run or carry a weapon, should it become necessary. And honestly, it bruised your ego. You were single, after all.

Annoyed that he couldn’t even bring himself to compliment your appearance out of mere politeness, and already stressed about how terrible this Christmas Day was gonna be, you snapped at him while you walked ahead of him towards the stairs.

“Does anything in this universe interest you, Mr. Djarin? Or is it just me you find endlessly tedious?”

You’d hired him just three months earlier, entirely based on his faultless merits and not his personality, so in truth, you only had yourself to blame. But was it really so hard to just say that you looked nice? You would’ve appreciated it even if it was entirely insincere, just for the smallest sign that he cared about more than just your physical wellbeing.

“Are you dissatisfied with my performance, Boss?” he asked, somehow sounding completely unbothered by your rather rude questions.

“No, not at all, your performance is perfect. I just wish you had a damned personality,” you griped, regretting the words from the moment they left your mouth.

You stopped inside the front door of your house and sighed, suddenly feeling ten times worse about everything, but mostly just yourself.

“I’m sorry… that was mean,” you admitted, shaking your head. “I hate this. I don’t wanna go to a party, I wanna curl up on my sofa and eat treats and read books until I fall asleep.”

“Then why don’t you?” he surprised you by asking, and he sounded sincere.

But you didn’t have an answer. All you had were excuses, so you opted to keep your mouth shut and walk out to the waiting car instead. He followed, getting in beside you in the backseat while the driver waited behind the wheel. You refused to have your car-door held open for you as it was something you considered superfluous and somewhat vexing.

It was a long drive because your house was outside of the city, and traffic was horrible so it took a good while to get there, which prompted your host George to make sure that you hadn’t changed your mind. Your phone pinged, and you groaned even before you’d picked it up, knowing who it would be because he always did this.

[Hey, gorgeous! No cold feet, I hope?] he wrote, and you wanted to throw the phone away and just tell the driver to take you back home.

[10 minutes away] was all the reply he got, while you once again wondered why you were doing this to yourself.

[Did you bring a date?] he asked then, and your stomach dropped.

Because he wouldn’t ask you that unless he had something up his sleeve, and knowing him, it could only be one of two things. Either, he’d heard some rumour on the grapevine about you and some guy, and wanted to know if it was true, or he was trying to fix you up with someone.

And given the time of year, with the potential around mistletoes and all that, you were certain that it was the latter, and nothing was less appealing to you right then, than the prospect of being hit on.

“Sarah, stop the car, please,” you asked the driver, and she immediately turned to the side and stopped at the curb.

“What’s going on?” Mr. Djarin inquired, wanting to know what changes he might have to make to ensure your safety.

“I’ve changed my mind, I’m not going,” you said, almost on the verge of tears for some reason.

“Why not?” he pressed, which was unusual for him.

He had thus far been very respectful of your decisions, never trying to influence you or meddle in your life. He would simply inform you of what dangers you might face and how to best avoid them, but he’d leave the decisions up to you. So, if he was asking you to elaborate then he had to have good reason.

“Because I’m pretty sure that George has someone there waiting for me, and I can’t deal with that crap right now. I’m already pushing it just showing up, knowing that I’m gonna have to fake a smile the entire night and then come up with some socially acceptable excuse to leave early. If I have to spend the evening with some lovesick puppy on my heels too, I’m gonna explode,” you tried to explain.

But if he reacted in any way, you didn’t see it, as you kept your gaze on the sidewalk outside of your window. He seemed to think on it, though, staying quiet for a minute. And then he said the very last thing that you could ever have imagined.

“George hasn’t met me yet. You could use me as your cover.”

You were so sure that you must’ve heard that wrong, that it took a good moment before the words sunk into your brain and you slowly turned your head to stare at him.

“What?” was all you could muster, and he turned his head to meet your eyes when he responded, perfectly calm and earnest.

“If it’s what you need to get you through the evening, then I can play your date,” he said, dead serious, and then he shrugged. “I have to be there anyway and it would only make it easier to keep an eye on you.”

He wasn’t wrong about that. As much as you were dreading this evening, you could at least dip into the eggnog or hide in the bathroom for a while. But he’d have to endure every second of it on full alert, unable to enjoy it even if it had been his kind of scene, which you were fairly certain that it wasn’t.

“Wouldn’t it be easier for us both if I just didn’t go?” you asked, utterly shocked by this turn of events.

“Probably,” he declared simply, once more leaving the choice up to you.

You’d agreed to go to this party. You’d made that choice with no knife aimed at your throat, and while you’d regretted it ever since, there was a part of you that knew exactly why you’d said yes. The lonely part. The section of your brain that craved company, even when all you wanted was a blanket and hot cocoa and your favourite tv-show.

It was the pain that accompanied the season that was making all this so difficult, but at heart, you weren’t someone that thrived in solitude. Your wealth was the problem there, because it mostly attracted idiots or fortune seekers, and it was getting increasingly difficult to trust anyone when they claimed to like you for who you were.

But you still craved that partnership, that sense of belonging and togetherness, and that was why you’d gotten into the car at all that night. Because there was a chance… just the smallest increment of a possibility, that the mistletoe might have something new to show you this year.

However, if you were truly honest with yourself, you didn’t really believe that such a thing would ever happen to you. It was just a dream that you wished you could believe. But looking at your protector in that moment, your perspective shifted, ever so slightly, with the realization that there was nothing preventing you from letting yourself pretend. Just for that night, you could make believe that you had everything you wanted.

“Sarah,” you called to the driver, “let’s keep going.”

Then you looked back at Mr. Djarin, who’s expression hadn’t changed at all.

“We’ll give it a go and pretend that it’s our first date, to make any awkwardness between us seem natural. But if I feel like we need to bail, I’ll take your hand and squeeze it really hard, okay?” you instructed, and he nodded once.

“Good plan, Boss.”

“No, it isn’t,” you scoffed at your own ridiculousness. “But even though I’m so not in the mood and I’m pretty sure that this is gonna suck no matter what, I feel like I still need to go. Whether for mom or for myself, I don’t know. I just need to… give Christmas a chance.”

You weren’t quite sure why you told him that, but it felt like he deserved to know where your head was at, if he was gonna chaperone you for several hours.

“Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone spoil your night,” he promised, still with that serious expression that was just about the only one you’d ever seen on him.

“Thank you,” you offered, despite your confusion at this deeply uncharacteristic generosity from him, and he returned to staring out of his window.

A man of mystery, indeed. The kindness of the gesture notwithstanding, it did nothing to help you understand him better. More so the opposite. But you did feel a bit less uncomfortable about the party, knowing that you’d have an arm to lean on if you needed it.

The car came to a stop outside the fifty-story building and you allowed Mr. Djarin to get the door for you this time, to further sell the idea that he was your date. You managed to resist the urge to slap his hand away when he offered to superfluously assist in your departure from the vehicle, letting his fingers gently curl around yours in what suddenly felt like a very intimate touch.

It was probably just because he’d never touched you before, but the warmth and unexpected delicacy of his hand, was enough to make the hairs on your neck stand up, and not at all in an unpleasant way. Then, like a true gentleman, he offered you his arm once he’d let you go. You took it, letting your fingers wrap loosely around the base of his bicep, which was larger than you’d expected, and together you entered the building and headed for the elevators.

A strange little buzz moved through you as you stood beside him, just the two of you in the small space as you were lifted to the correct floor, and you wondered if he felt something similar. He was impossible to read, save for the tiny clues that his body-language sometimes gave off, which was something that he seemed to have an annoyingly good control over.

If he didn’t want anyone to know what he was thinking or feeling, then there was no way that anyone could work it out just by observing him. But he could also make his thoughts and intentions abundantly clear without making a sound, if he chose to. You’d often wished that he would’ve let you see more of his personality, but he never did.

A sign of a truly good professional, you supposed, but still a very bleak way to live. Not that it was any of your business.

“Take a breath,” he whispered, just as the elevator started slowing down, reminding you that you were supposed to be relaxed and happy.

You did as he said and felt a heap of tension slip away from your frame as your lungs inflated, unlocking the muscles around your chest.

“Thank you,” you whispered back, and then the doors to the penthouse opened.

Normally, the elevator would stop without the doors opening automatically, needing to be unlocked from inside the apartment, to keep unwanted visitors out. But whenever there was a party, George would temporarily disable that function. Instead, he placed two tall and burly-looking guards at the entrance, to make sure that no one gate-crashed.

You gave them your name, and then announced Mr. Djarin as your plus one, to which the two men stepped aside and welcomed you with a surprisingly cheerful holiday greeting. And once you walked in from the foyer, your eyes, nose and ears were positively bombarded with Christmas. The entire place had been covered, from floor to ceiling, with decorations and trees and all around were little tables covered with treats and drinks.

All the well-known classics, from Sinatra and Elvis to Mariah Carey and Nat King Cole, were playing just a tad too loudly, and everything was simply as over the top as Christmas can be. Your mother would’ve loved it. Keeping that thought in your mind helped you to not just turn around and leave within five seconds of arriving, but only just.

“BAAABIE!!” a very familiar squeal sounded from across the room, before George parted the sea of people by sticking his hands in the air and preceding to just glide over the floor in the most over-the-top dramatic fashion that he could manage.

Not that you were in the least surprised. It was only to be expected of a recently retired supermodel.

“Hi, Georgie,” you answered once he got to you, before letting him pretend to kiss your cheeks in that completely useless way that so many celebrities did.

“I’m so glad you came! And you brought a date!” he was still squealing when he turned his attention to your protector, but then let his face fall into the drama-queen-version of a scowl, to commence his scrutiny.

“Nice physique. Good suit, although nothing I would wear, but we can’t all be perfect, that would be exceedingly dull,” he prattled on while you politely smiled despite rolling your eyes at him. “Gorgeous eyes, though. The browns always get me weak in the knees.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” you said light-heartedly, but with emphasis. “It’s our first date, try not to scare him away.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Mr. Djarin warmly assured you, placing his large hand over yours, where it still rested in the crook of his elbow. “I’m not easily deterred. It’s a pleasure to meet you, George, my name is Din,” he finished, turning his attention back to the host.

You were more than a little surprised at the endearing way that he addressed you, since he’d never called you anything but Boss or Miss before. But you were even more surprised by how hearing him talk to you like that, made a very tingly sort of warmth pool in your stomach. And it was true that his eyes were captivating. A fact made so much clearer now, when his normally so reserved manner was blown away.

It wasn’t as though he’d become a different person, but more like he was just allowing himself to be less controlled and professional. More casual. Something that you’d seriously begun to suspect that he might not be capable of, and which you were only all too happy to have proven wrong. But you also needed to remind yourself that he was your employee, and that this was all pretend.

This shift in his behaviour was starting to make him look very appealing, which was a dangerous thing for you to feel towards the man that was in charge of your safety. Still, it said a great deal about his charisma that he was able to scramble your mind within just a few moments of turning on his charms. Either that, or you were even more starved of company than you’d realized.

“Welcome, Din. Now, take good care of my girl tonight, you hear?” George cautioned, in a very uncommon serious tone, reserved for only the most severe of circumstances. “She’s my darling, and if you break her heart, I’m the one that’s gonna have to put it back together, which would automatically make me hate and loathe you for all eternity. And I have a lot of power in this city.”

“Gee!? What did I just say about not scaring him away?” you reproved, suddenly feeling embarrassed that your friend would take such a bluntly direct approach.

He didn’t know that it was fake, after all. And while you’d witnessed him very effectively safeguard you from drunks and idiots alike, many times before, this was different. He seemed so much more genuine in that moment. So much more convinced that this could be the real deal, which would make it your first attempt at a romantic relationship since your mother passed.

Except, this wasn’t real.

“Just telling it like it is, boo,” George shrugged, having returned to his dramatic flair.

“I appreciate the honesty,” Mr. Djarin nodded at him, seemingly perfectly at ease with your friend’s complete lack of delicacy.

Your host was pleased with that, and shot you a little smile as he turned and strode off among the glittering crowd, while you just shook your head after him.

“I’m so sorry about him,” you said to your protector, feeling oddly exposed by the uncomfortable exchange, as though George had revealed some hidden truth about you, which wasn’t the case.

“Don’t be. The mark of a truly good friend is honesty.”

You couldn’t argue with that, and it made you feel better to hear him say it, so you smiled in thanks and was surprised to see him return the gesture. You’d never seen him smile before. And damned it… he was cute.

“How about some food?” he suggested, indicating the larger tables along the far wall of the room, that were packed with all sorts of edibles.

“Sure," you agreed, letting him lead the way while you kept a firm grip on his arm.

You let him go once you reached the plates, though, in order to pick what you wanted from the generous offerings, but it made you feel vulnerable. He was such a solid thing to hold on to. You felt certain that he could tackle any problem that he encountered, and most assuredly anything that might happen while standing guard over a helpless rich woman.

“Why did you take the job?” you asked him while you looked for a place to sit down to eat and made sure that George wasn’t close enough to hear you, since the question might give away your bluff.

“Is there some reason that I shouldn’t have?” he countered, but he sounded only curious, so you elaborated.

“I guess I’m just wondering why someone that seems so capable is trapping himself with such a dull working life. I mean, it’s not like anything ever happens to me,” you said, just as you found an abandoned love seat close to the balcony.

“And yet, you want protection,” he pondered, and simultaneously avoided directly answering the question. “Which tells me that you feel unsafe.”

“Not really. I’m just fed up with having to fend for myself against the horridness that comes out in people when they know that I have money. Mom kept me away from all spotlights, protected me from becoming this famous kid of a rich person, and then when I grew up, I decided to stay in the shadows. If she hadn’t died, I would’ve continued to live a normal life, free of all this.”

“So, I’m a deterrent?” he asked in between bites, but it was more of a conclusion than a question.

“Yeah, I guess you sort of are,” you admitted, somehow feeling bad about it, like you were using him, even though he’d willingly signed on for the job.

“Well, no one’s bothered you yet, tonight or any other night, so it seems to be working,” he said with a very small wink, just enough to let you know that he was fine with the situation.

It made you smile, both knowing that the party probably wasn’t gonna be as bad as you’d imagined, but also that he wasn’t having the worst night of his life, despite the falseness.

“Thank you for doing this, Mr. Djarin.”

“Please, call me Din,” he offered, and your smile widened, because removing that formality made it so much easier to look at him as just this cute guy that was your date, rather than the tough guardian that you normally saw.

You chatted some more while you ate, mostly about trivial stuff like favourite foods and whatnot, and then he once again surprised you.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked, and for some reason it sent butterflies through your stomach.

“Sure,” you replied before your brain had even fully grasped the meaning of the question.

But by the time you’d caught up to your own response, Din had already led you to the floor, and suddenly his hand was on your waist and his broad frame was taking up almost your entire field of vision. He moved softly, following the gentle piano notes of whatever song was playing, drowned out by the sudden noise of your own pulse beating in your ears.

Oddly enough, your mind was focusing only on the way his hands felt against you. The simultaneously firm but tender grip, in both the hand that held yours, and the one that secured your body against his. He was keeping you close, moving slowly in the crowded room, and you could’ve sworn that his arm around you was pulling you closer with each step.

Was he even watching your surroundings anymore? You hadn’t seen his sharp eyes scan the room once since George walked away, so perhaps he’d simply decided that these people were no threat to you. Or… was it possible that he’d gotten as lost in your closeness as you were in his?

You could feel his cheek against your temple, and after about half the song, you felt his head dip forwards, as if he was smelling your hair, and then it stayed there. But from that position, he wouldn’t be able to look out over the room, the most he’d be able to see would be the feet of the people closest behind you. Which made you wonder if he was even acting as your security anymore.

When the song ended, a much more energetic one followed, but he didn’t pull back or try to change the dance. He just kept swaying across the floor, as softly as a blade of grass in the wind, and you followed without protest. This was the most intimate and comforting thing that had happened to you in as long as you could remember, and you didn’t want it to end.

You closed your eyes and leaned into his chest, letting your head rest against his shoulder. All efforts of trying to maintain an air of professionalism between you, completely blown away in the sudden desire to just let yourself be held. He let go of your hand and instead wrapped both arms around your waist, turning the dance into a moving hug, and somehow, the rest of the room just vanished.

For a long and blissful moment, it was just the two of you. The firmness of his strong body enveloping you, along with the warmth that seeped through his suit, seeming to build a bubble around you that was strong enough to keep the entire world away. But annoyingly, the world didn’t stay away. All too soon it invaded your bubble, making it crack and pull your protector away from you.

Looking up, you saw what had drawn his attention as George was making a show of Santa’s sudden appearance from the balcony, to the delight of the entire room. But instead of filling you with joy, the sight made you feel sad. Because it reminded you that it was Christmas Day and that your mother wasn’t there to hand out the presents like she always had.

And for reasons that you couldn’t make sense of right then, although perhaps because of the tender moment that you’d just shared with Din, this became the thing that killed the evening for you. Letting your arm slip from his shoulder, you took his hand and squeezed it as hard as you could, and his reaction was immediate.

Without asking a single question, he turned towards the elevator and calmly pulled you through the crowd and away from the party. It wasn’t until the doors had closed and the box had started dropping that he turned to look at you, and there was concern in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, still holding your hand.

“Yeah, I just had enough,” you said, suddenly too done with this day to explain any further.

He didn’t ask anything more, he just nodded and reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone and call Sarah, who was still in the car and had parked nearby. When you left the building, the car just came to a stop by the curb, and you climbed in without pause, feeling like you’d just stepped into a haven compared to the stuffed atmosphere up in the penthouse.

No one said anything during the entire drive home, but once there, Din dutifully followed you inside to make sure that everything was in order. But while he walked around to check all the rooms and windows, you were disheartened to see that his professional persona had snuffed out the warmth in his frame that you’d somehow gotten used to even after just a few hours of seeing it.

As though an iron mask had fallen into place, his face was once again hard and unreadable, his shoulders stiff and ready, his hands idle by his sides. He never shoved them into his pockets, or clasped them together, or crossed his arms. He kept them ready to be used for anything that he might have to do quickly, in order to protect you.

But tonight, you wished that he would’ve let them stay soft. That he would’ve kept holding you, kept pulling you closer, like he had on the dancefloor. Whether he’d meant to or not, that night he’d shown you who he was underneath the armour of his profession, and much to your own surprise, you wanted to know more. You wanted more of him.

But you couldn’t ask for it, because he wasn’t yours to know. Because tonight had been fake and this was reality. He just worked for you. Coming back to the front hall, he nodded to indicate that his search hadn’t revealed anything of note, and you felt yourself return to the sad and lonely employer, accepting that the evening was over, and everything was back to normal.

“Thank you, Mr. Djarin, that’ll be all,” you said, as his first name suddenly felt too personal again, but hating how his last name tasted so bitter now.

Without waiting for a reply, and fully expecting him to just nod and leave you to your own thoughts, you turned away from him and headed for the fireplace in the living room, adjacent to the front hall. There was a picture of you and your mother on the mantelpiece, from a winter holiday to Europe to see the northern lights, years earlier, and you stopped in front of it.

It was your favourite picture, because it hadn’t been set up. It was a candid photo, taken by the wilderness guide that had brought the two of you out into the Swedish mountains. You were both in the foreground, laughing because you’d been unexpectedly surrounded by reindeer while watching the sky, which was lit up in every colour of the rainbow, casting its magical glow over the snow-covered slopes.

“I’m still Din to you,” a raspy, low voice whispered in your ear, startling you out of the memory.

And when you whirled around to find out what he was up to, you found his impressive frame all around you as he leaned in and kissed you, ever so lightly, before quickly pulling back again. His eyes were twinkling dark pools, more than deep enough for you to drown in as you stared at him, unable to grasp what was happening.

“I’m sorry. That was very unprofessional, and I know that you have problems with relationships right now,” he explained apologetically, while you struggled to formulate a single thought. “But I feel like tonight was very special and it was just a little too perfect that you stopped underneath the mistletoe.”

That woke your brain up, because you’d decorated your house by yourself, and you hadn’t put up any mistletoes. But looking up, you found that there was indeed a red bow tied around a large bundle of the weed, hanging halfway up the visible stone chimney that followed the wall and disappeared up through the ceiling.

“What? I didn’t put that there…” you mumbled, utterly confused by the whole situation.

“No, I did,” he confessed, and you snapped your head back down to stare at him, but again, words failed you.

You stood there with your mouth hanging open like a fish, while your mind tried to fit together the unsociable security specialist, with this cute and warm sweetheart that was now standing before you with an adorably insecure smile on his lips.

“But… I don’t understand… I thought you didn’t like me,” you finally croaked, and his eyes turned down to observe his own feet for a moment.

“I’m not supposed to, and I’ve tried not to,” he explained. “But the truth is that being your date tonight was just about the best thing that’s ever happened to me. It was like Cinderella going to the ball, except you were the princess and I was the common boy, made to feel beautiful for a night.”

He glanced up at you to gauge your reaction, and he looked so terribly unsure that you wanted to hug him and scream at him not to think so little of himself. You’d only had this one occasion to see this other side of him. Just a few hours in which he’d let his guard down and allowed you to see him without his armour, so maybe it was too soon to say that you liked him too.

But in that moment, it wasn’t the months of meeting the stone-faced guardian every time you looked at him, that defined him. Right then, in front of that fireplace, it was the way he’d held you when you’d danced, and his inviting smile and glittering eyes, that told you who he was and who he could be. And you really did like that man.

“You are beautiful, Din. Always,” you said, and watched his eyes turn from unsure to something more difficult to understand.

But there was confidence in there, and it grew when he couldn’t see any doubt in you. When you kept meeting his eyes with clear honesty, waiting for him to decide what to do with that. It didn’t take him more than a few seconds, though. He stepped closer, and took your hand with a careful but determined grip.

“Can I kiss you again? For real, this time,” he asked, and there was something much bolder in his frame now.

You just nodded, as it felt like you might break that same magical bubble that seemed to once again encase you both, if you made too loud a sound. But it was all he needed. He closed in further, until there was no gap between your chests anymore, letting his free hand find the small of your back to hold you to him as he slowly bent his head forwards.

You were shorter than him, so you raised your chin to meet him, feeling a tiny shiver of pleasure creep up along your spine when his nose caressed yours on his way to your lips. A warm breath that smelled of mulled wine and saffron-buns spilled over your face, and then his soft lips took yours in a kiss that was nowhere near as tentative as you’d expected. Heat flooded your system making you instantly crave more.

You licked into his mouth and felt him eagerly respond in kind, tasting the many flavours of the foods from the party on his tongue. Soon you were both straining to get enough air through your noses, as your hearts raced to try and keep up with the building desires, and neither of you wanted to pull away. But then your phone pinged, breaking the spell and bringing you both back to reality.

“Sorry,” Din laughed breathlessly against your mouth. “I didn’t mean to take it quite this far. Well… not yet anyway.”

You hummed a small laugh in return, glancing down at the way he was keeping you pinned against his front, one arm still at the small of your back and the other wrapped around your shoulders. He took the hint and loosened his grip, still grinning proudly with the knowledge that you hadn’t objected to anything that had just happened.

“Maybe we should go on a proper date before we go any further,” you suggested, remembering that you didn’t actually know much at all about the man before you, now that your mind was coming out of the haze of desire.

“Yes. We should,” he agreed, and yet his smile spoke of anything but restraint.

It was enough for you to know that if you asked, he’d go however far you might want him to that night. But the fact that he didn’t push or try to influence you, also told you that he really would wait if you weren’t comfortable moving that fast. And that told you that you already knew enough about him to know that you were safe in his arms, no matter what happened next.

It was close to midnight however, and the only one that would be texting you that late was George, and if you didn’t answer, he’d keep texting and then call. So, you stepped away from Din and picked your phone out of your pocket and checked the message.

[No hard feelings about your bail, boo. Hope you had a little fun, at least.]

That was sweet of him. Even though you’d known that he’d be okay with you sneaking away, you’d expected some pouting. It was just who he was.

[Thank you, Gee. I did] you responded, just to let him know that you’d gotten home alright and that everything was good.

[Happy to hear it, my love. And if you want my opinion (which you should) I think Brown Eyes is a keeper.]

You smiled widely at that, pleased to hear that your best friend had seen the same things that you did. It made this strange fairy-tale evening seem more real.

[I do too] you answered, and then turned the phone off and threw it on the sofa nearby.

Returning to the man in question, you let your hands slowly travel up along his arms, over his shoulders and then into his hair, where you gently pulled him towards you, wordlessly asking for another kiss, which he obliged without hesitation. And when you broke it, leaning your head back just far enough that you could see his eyes, you felt certain that he already knew what you wanted.

“Take me to my bedroom, Din,” you said, bringing one hand out of his hair to cup his cheek instead, for no reason other than that you felt like it.

Unexpectedly, his smile softened, and he leaned into your touch as though it was the smoothest silk, closing his eyes in blissful serenity for just a moment. He was in no rush, despite the heat in his skin or the darkness of his blown pupils. He was simply happy, and content to know that you were too. For the first time since he’d met you. He kissed you again, much gentler this time, and then proudly squared his shoulders.

“As you wish, my lady. I believe I know the way.”

THE END

I'm so happy to post new material again, I feel like it's been forever! Thank you for reading, and if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging <3

#wge22 #winter gift exchange 2022 #winter gift exchange #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x female reader #modern!din #christmas story

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dreamlandcreations · 1 year

Text

Grinch green

Loki x Maximoff!Reader

Summary: Being paired up on a mission with Loki ends up changing your relationship with the moody god…

Warnings: mentioned symptoms of hypothermia, enemies to (almost) lovers, idiots in love, Loki’s sense of self-worth is kinda nonexistent, drunk Reader, mention of celebrating Christmas, height difference

Written for @startrekkingaroundasgard's Winter Gift Exchange '22 event. An incredibly belated gift for @pastelmoomoo

note: if Maximoff!Reader is not your thing then pls ignore that bit and just treat her as a powered person, I’m pretty sure I deleted everything that would imply that or a physical description but I wanted to do a 2nd part so I decided to leave in this bit for that plot

~ 1,3K words

Out of all the Avengers, you’d think Loki would be the most useful if you get stuck in an ice realm, but no, his highness is quite chill in the freezing weather and not at all bothered that the ruins of the old castle where you found shelter from the storm provides no warmth at all.

Meanwhile, you are looking for anything you can use your powers on to seal the holes on the roof and cracks by the broken windows but you have no idea how anything could survive in this temperature. Your ability to transform and use living organisms with your magic always focused on plant life, however, at the moment you are tempted to make your annoying temporary partner’s blood boil and this time not just figuratively with rage as you usually do.

Actually, you have no idea what you’ve done to deserve his instant hatred but this was the case ever since you met and he seemed to be determined to make you hate him too so you played with the cards you were dealt with. Just like now, bickering over everything, calling out his lack of concern and unhelpfulness but your insults sound weak when your teeth are clattering together so hard you start to stutter the words.

Too busy with your grumbling, you don’t look back at Loki so you wouldn’t notice his worried expression as he regards your shivering form. He doesn’t say anything when you stop looking for a solution and slide down against a wall, resting your forehead on your knees and hugging your legs as you will your mind to start working again.

Before the sleepiness could take you under, you feel a weight land on you. Loki dropped his coat on you, leaning down to pull the cold fabric around your frame and suddenly lifted you up in his arms, moving forward without another word. You were too cold and too tired to even question him let alone argue so you just focused on trying to stay awake.

Not much later, he found the kitchen, which was still mostly intact, and put you on the table near the fireplace-looking stove and began to break chairs to start a fire.

When he was satisfied with his work he pulled the heavy table even closer to the fire. He was out of the door by the time you started to get yourself together, only shouting to you as an afterthought that he'll scout around.

The unsaid order of you waiting here made you huff in annoyance but he was gone before you could start your usual bickering match.

A few hours later he found you dancing in front of the fire, drinking something while spinning until you were too dizzy to continue.

“What are you doing?”

“Loki!” You exclaim cheerfully as you see him, seemingly happy to have him there, which is never the case in normal circumstances.

Loki narrows his eyes at you in suspicion, examining your glassy eyes and wide grin as his gaze slips to the bottle in your hand. “What is that?”

“Well, it remotely tastes like alcohol.” You answer nonchalantly before taking another sip.

He marches over to you, grabbing the bottle by enveloping your hand between his palm and the dusty item to take a look at it. “How much of this did you have?”

“It wasn’t all me.” You stare up at him pouting innocently but your mischievous giggle ruins your drunken act. “I shared with the flames.”

“I think that was quite enough for you, little witch.”

“Hey!” You reach for the bottle he easily took and lose your balance, landing in his arms with a flustered “Oh.”

He lifts you up once again, taking a seat on the table, with you in his lap, holding you in silence for a long while.

“I found the portal but we will have to wait until the storm is gone.” Meaning, you will have to wait until you won’t freeze to death outside. But it was nice of him to not go there for a change.

“Ugh, it could take days,” you whine, which he finds oddly adorable, especially in your current state.

A shocked gasp is followed by another complaint. “We are going to miss Christmas.”

“Oh, dear. How are we going to survive that tragedy?” His mocking comment makes your pout return paired with a wrinkled forehead and he can’t decide which he wants to kiss away first.

“You’re a real Scrooge, you know? No…” you drag the last syllable as you our eyes widen with delight once again, “green.” You giggle as you come to a conclusion. “Grinch, you are the Grinch.”

He says nothing to your jesting, rather choosing to ignore you as he gets lost in his thoughts and stares into the fire.

When Loki thinks you have fallen a sleep, his gaze flickers to you, finding your eyes locked on him already and much to his confusion there’s a soft expression on your face as you study his features.

He doesn’t dare to breathe as you reach out, lightly caressing his cheek with your fingertips and he feels his skin vibrate with magic as he turns to his natural colouring.

“Hmm, I like you in blue too,” you sigh as you trace his marks delicately.

You are surprised he lets you touch him, see him. He seems so vulnerable that makes your heart ache and your expression must show something of your emotions because he frowns angrily and leans away from your reach.

As he tries to stand, you let out a complaining noise that’s halfway through a weak grunt and a whine. Looking down, he takes in your confused but still adoring gaze. Breaths stuck in his lungs, not daring to move an inch, afraid to break the dream-like moment, he lets you touch him again.

He frowns at you with disbelief. “Are you not…?”

“Scared?” Not exactly the word he would have used but an almost imperceivable tilt of his head says ‘sure’ so you answer his question in more ways than you realise. “Maybe I’d find these red eyes scary if they weren’t so sad and full of hurt all the time.”

Those expressive eyes become shiny with tears he struggles to hold back as he fights the urge to look away, or perhaps even to run away from you.

“I wish you would let someone close,” you sigh as your gaze follows the path of his marks. “I wish you wouldn’t hate me.”

It’s no more than a whisper but he hears it. A stuttering sigh escapes him as your fingers graze along the marks on his forehead then down his nose just to reach his lips and stop there for a moment before your hand fists into the fabric of his neckline, pulling him closer and closer.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have the opportunity to find out how your lips would feel like on his own because as soon as your eyes flattered close your body went limp in his arms.

His first reaction was to get overwhelmed with worry again but after checking your pulse and breathing he huffed out a simultaneously relieved and annoyed laugh as he realised you have just fallen asleep.

Unable to look away from you, he thinks about all the things you have said and done in the past few minutes and starts to question his reasoning to keep you at arms length. Maybe he did have a chance with you, and maybe, just maybe he was good enough for once. His thoughts going so far as wondering if he might even deserve to be loved. Then again his doubts took over, blaming everything on your drunken state, with only a tiny bit of hope remaining that you might be feeling something for him too.

With a heavy sigh, Loki laid down with you next to him, pulling your back to his chest, providing more heat with his body now that he was starting to warm up as well. He would let you rest as he lies awake and thinks or probably overthinks things. His interrogation can wait until the morning, after all, you had a lot to discuss.

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki #winter gift exchange #ficmas 2022 #winter gift exchange 2022 #my stuff #my fics

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