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mjolnirswriststrap · 2 months

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Not My Type

Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Reader x Steve Rogers

Word Count: 2,329 Masterlist Part 2

Summary: Bucky is dumb.

Warnings: Fatphobia.

A/N: something short, sweet and simple because I’m starting to feel guilty about not posting 😭

Steve watched, as his friend searched around the club with his eyes. He could assume Bucky was just waiting on the rest of their coworkers to get there, but he knew better. “She’ll get here soon enough, relax.”. Steve leans his back against the booth and takes a long drink of his beer. “Who?” Bucky asks, unconvincingly.

“Y/N.” He says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Bucky scrunches up his face “As if, man.” He ignores the look of disbelief Steve gives him. “Why deny it? I’ve caught you staring her down more times than I can count.”. Steve stands up and waves to signal Natasha to where they sat. “There’s nothing to deny, she’s not my type, leave it there so no one’s feelings get hurt, okay?” Bucky puts the bottle to his lips to shush himself when he sees you approach the booth.

“You guys look.” Steve’s speechless as he takes in the silk nighties the girls adorned. They all wore semi matching babydoll dresses. Color coded fishnets and heeled slippers adorned their long legs. Their hair was high and teased, makeup adding to the sultry bedtime look they were going for.

“You’re gonna catch flies.” Wanda remarks, leaving to find Vision having the time of his life with the DJ. Steve’s reaction to their costumes did nothing to calm your nerves. You went with the housewife costume too. Just a different approach entirely. Your hair sat in victory rolls atop your head, a thick stack of curls laying on your shoulders, a knee length dress with three quartered sleeves covered you. You’re painted your eyebrows on thinly, just to over line your lips, filling them in with your favorite red Mac lipstick. You were the most modest in your costume, but the most accurate.

You couldn’t wear a see through nightgown to the club. You would die of embarrassment, your rolls would be everywhere. At least in this thick cotton dress, no one could see the layers of shape wear you wore. You slid into the booth and sat beside Steve, getting sandwiched in when Sam finally arrives, late with no costume. “What took you so long, huh khakis?” You tease him, feeling nothing but comfort in his presence.

“You ever had to tell a 10 year old his idea isn’t good enough.” He laughs, “, You should go as yourself Unc!” He recalls the boys words over the phone. “Oh, of course, looks like a superhero to me!” You giggle, loving the thought of his nephews building up his self esteem. He was new to the team, no super strength or speed. Just courage, you admired Sam.

You finally take the chance to look around the booth. Steve wore his vintage Captain America suit, claiming it still fits like a glove. Bucky didn’t wear a costume, just his regular black t-shirt and leather jacket, no effort, even for Halloween. It helped Sam not look so out of place, so you just rolled your eyes at him. He tried way to hard to act like he didn’t care about anything, or anyone. You hate people like that, too self absorbed to carry on a conversation with someone who doesn’t benefit them.

You had been on the wrong side of his attitude before. Bumbling up to him after your first meeting. Stretching out your hand for a shake, he barely touched your hand as he shook your fingers, nodding at you with a curt “Welcome.” You didn’t think much of it till he sat beside Yelena, who got recruited the same day as you, and sparked up a lively conversation with her, telling her if she needs anything at the compound to come ask him. That was the first time Bucky hurt your feelings, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“Y/N!” Someone yells at you from the dance floor. It’s Yelena dancing alone, ��You promised me a dance.” She says, holding her arms out for you. You nudge Sam on the shoulder and do the most embarrassing scoot out of the booth you could imagine. Your dress rode up in the time you’d been sitting there, causing your thighs to stick to the old leather. Your face grimaces and you peel your skin away, hoping no one noticed.

“I’m on the dance floor, as promised.” You say, holding her hands while she dances on you. “You’re gonna need to do more than stand there if you want him to notice you.” She remarks, not skipping a beat. Yelena knew you too well, she knew you picked the 40s for a reason, not going with their free spirit 60s slumber get up.

Giving her a wide eyed look, as if he heard over the thumping music. “We both know I have no rhythm, stop that.” You giggle when she presses her back against you and slides down into a squat. She goes behind you and grabs your hips, forcing you against her chest. She grinds you into her pelvis, using her hands to guide your hips in sync with hers. You never moved that way before, and the sensuality of it had your heart racing. Yelena could be anyone, tightly holding on to you, you closed your eyes and threw your head back on her shoulder, just to imagine it was him for a moment.

You feel Yelena’s lips tickle your ear and she’s whispering “Look who can’t take their eyes off of you.” You tilt your head down and open your eyes to lock them with Bucky’s. He looks angry, like you pissed in his cheerios. You turn your body around to face Yelena, “I think he’s upset I’m blocking his view from you.”. That causes her to laugh out loud, grabbing your shoulders to shake you. “You’re mad woman! Look at what’s right in front of you.”. You laugh and look behind you to see Bucky staring down his beer now, instead of you.

“Yelena, I don’t know how to put this, he probably doesn’t even go for girls like me, skinny blonde seems more his type. You, you seem more his type.” You plead with her. She just shakes her head, “He doesn’t like me, I promise, Y/N.” You nod your head, trusting the closest friend you had.

You make your way to the bar, grabbing a drink to cool yourself off. You’re walking back to the booth to get off your feet when you overhear Steve and Bucky’s conversation.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“You look like a helpless puppy, just make your move.”

“As if I’d need to, she’s probably never had male attention, that’s too easy.”

“Just admit that you’re afraid of rejection.”

“From her? Never in a million years would fatty have a chance. Like I said she’s obviously not my type.”. Bucky instantly regretted the words as they came out of his mouth, he didn’t mean it. But Steve wouldn’t stop accusing him of having a crush on you.

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but you push them down. You knew better, Yelena didn’t, you shouldn’t have let her give you false hope. You choke down your pride and turn the corner, sliding into the booth as if nothing happened. “I think this is my last drink guys, I’m getting tired, and winter training starts tomorrow.”.

An echo of ‘boos’ and a “noooo why.” Almost tempt you to stay. But you know you’re not wanted here, by the one person that mattered. Steve catches your attention, “Are you sure? The nights still young.” He wiggles his brows. You give him a tight lipped smile, knowing he tried to get Bucky to make a move.

“Yeah, there’s really not much for me here. I came for Natasha.” He nods, giving Bucky a death glare. You finish your drink and when you stand up the previous shots you had with Wanda hit you. You quickly sit back down, grabbing the table for stability. “Are you alright?” Steve rests his hand on your lower back, scooting closer to you.

You shake your head, not being able to form words. You think you’d faint if you didn’t focus on breathing. “Let me help you home.” He can see the unsure expression on your face. “Wouldn’t be respecting the suit if I didn’t make sure you got home safe.”. With that he convinced you.

When the cold October air hits your face, it sobers you a little bit, taking away the dizzy feeling, leaving you with a thumping head. Steve takes a few minutes to join you outside, you left him in a heated whisper match with Bucky.

You’re leaned against the side of the building when he finds you. “Ready to go?” He offers you his arm but you shake your head. “No need to be such a gentleman, it’s just me.” You say, knowing he’s doing it just to be nice.

Steve cocks his head to the side. “Why shouldn’t I be a gentleman towards you?” He asks. You press your pounding head against the brick wall, closing your eyes to think of the right words. “The only reason a guy needs to be a gentleman is for good impressions. I highly doubt you feel a need to impress me.”.

He scoffs at you, “What gives you the impression that you’re not worth impressing?”. Even though you were tipsy, Bucky’s words seared your frontal lobe. You suddenly are at a loss for words. How do you tell him you were eavesdropping on their conversation.

“I just don’t get much male attention I guess.” You let him in, his eyes widen in realization that you heard Bucky’s harsh words. “I’m sorry about him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” He says, stepping closer to you. You roll your eyes at him.

“No, he knew exactly what he was talking about. Fatty is no one’s type. No one looks at me and thinks “woah, the most beautiful woman in the world just walked in the room”.” You push yourself off the wall. “I understand that you wouldn’t get that, since you’re so perfect Steve. Women lay down at your feet, your options are endless. But not for someone like me.”.

Steve’s face had turned into a stone. His jaw clenched tightly. He let you vent out your frustrations. “The way you looked at the girls, the way half the club looked at the girls, I’ll never have that.”. You look at your feet and notice him take a step closer to you. You look up to see your faces not too far apart.

“I was looking at you too.” He reaches out, letting his hands hover over your waist. He rests them on your hips when your don’t push him away. “I don’t care what he said, he’s just insecure, he can’t admit that he thinks you’re hot.” You scoff at him this time.

“Steve whatever you’re doing, I get the whole nice guy thing. But just stop.” You say, pressing your hand against his chest. The thin polyester did nothing to conceal his smooth muscles. You feel him squeeze your sides tighter, his thumbs pressing into your belly. “He doesn’t speak for me.”.

You look into his dark eyes. “What are you saying?”. You’d never even humored yourself by considering Steve. You now had to rethink every encounter you ever had with him. “Forget him, let me show you how a real man appreciates a woman.”

He slides his hands down, letting them grasp as much of your ass that could fit in them. You gasp, he wasn’t afraid of your body, he knows what it has to offer. Judging by the way he gripped on to your ass like his life depended on it, he liked it.

“What if someone sees?” You say, pushing his hands off of you. He replaces them “I’m not afraid, why are you?” He leans down, connecting your lips, you’re frozen for a moment. How do you kiss him back? Before you could find out you feel a hand on your shoulder, ripping you away from Steve.

“What are you doing?” Bucky is talking to his friend, ignoring your existence. “Excuse me, we were in the middle of something.” Steve steps between you and Bucky. “You shouldn’t be out here hooking up with a random coworker.” Bucky says, trying to convince himself.

“Y/N isn’t a random coworker, Jesus Bucky, what’s your problem?” Steve asks, letting his anger show. He knew what he was doing, if Bucky wouldn’t admit it on his own, jealousy would work just fine. Bucky balls up his fists at his side “You know what my problem is.”.

You’re staring at Steve’s back, you don’t know what Bucky’s talking about. Is he so repulsed by a plus size woman, he doesn’t even want his friend with one? You were done, you’d never done anything to Bucky besides exist. He had an imaginary problem with you.

You stepped around Steve, crossing your arms in front of your chest. You don’t know where the boost of confidence came from, probably Steve’s lips and hand placement. You look Bucky up and down, truly taking him in.

He was perfect, and he knew it. It was starting to disgust you. “Just because ‘fattys’ like me have no chance with you, doesn’t mean that I’m not worthy of another man being attracted to me.” You take a step back, pressing yourself against Steve. Just to show Bucky, you meant business.

Basing it off of the hard indentation on the front of Steve’s spandex, he liked watching you tell Bucky off. You turn your body around to face him, throwing a look over your shoulder at Bucky, “Take me home Stevie.” You sing song in his ear.

A smirk falls on his lips, “Let’s do that princess.” He says while leading you out of the alley. Bucky is stuck in place, having an internal war with himself, that you weren’t gonna stick around for.

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cosmosis · 11 months

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MOVED TO @seratopia

miguel o’hara x reader (crack) - "where’s my super suit?”

this is very self-explanatory slight nsfw mention?? nothing smutty lmao

Brooding in his impossibly dark office, Miguel gazes at the various orange telegram screens around him. One of them catches his eye; Miles, Gwen, Pavitr, and Hobie all being absolutely demolished by an anomaly.

Each one of them is being thrown in the opposite direction, thwacking against each other or accidentally webbing the wrong person.

Miguel’s supposed to be off duty right now, though it’s hard to believe that Miguel gets any free time at all. Giving into Lyla’s pestering, he wears normal clothes today, opting for a simple zip-up sports jacket and pants.

But, Miguel knew he’d regret it.

He gazes at the live footage of the kids being completely totaled by the anomaly. Something similar to sympathy growing in his chest. (He doesn’t like to admit he has a soft spot for the kids, but he does.)

Miguel closes his eyes, hunching down and pinching between his eyes. “No puedo más-” He mumbles to himself. Pressing a button on the screen, Miguel quickly finds which universe the kids are in, opting to jump in and deal with it himself.

He’s already got his watch on, ready to step into action when he realizes...

He doesn’t have his suit on.

“Fuck.“ He mutters, breaking into a run out of his office, and down the equally dim hallway towards his living quarters. If you’re so invested in your job, why not live there as well?

The automatic doors slide open, revealing a lifeless, bland bedroom. You bug him to make it more homey, but he hasn’t got the chance to yet. Miguel quickly rummages through his drawers in the dark, filing through another closet in search of his suit, or at least one of a duplicate. Nothing.

“Lyla!“

Miguel starts rummaging through more clothes, and she instantly flickers by his shoulder.

“What?“

“Do you know where my suit is?“ Miguel asks.

“I dunno.“ Lyla shrugs. “I think y/n has it. Said she wanted to keep it to make sure you wouldn’t go work today.“

Miguel sighs in annoyance, swatting Lyla away like a fly until she blinks off. He taps a few buttons on his smartwatch, hastily pressing the call button for your favorited contact.

(it reads ”babyboo💕💞” after you changed it in his sleep lmaoo)

You answer as per usual. Miguel’s surprised you weren’t busy.

“Honey?“ Miguel asks, double checking the clothes he threw on the floor.

“Whaat?”

“Where’s my suit?”

“What? Sorry, you spazzed out a little.“

Miguel sighs, taking a deep breath on behalf of healthy marriages.

“Where. Is. My. Spider. Suit?“ He asks, slower this time.

“I uh- put it away.“

“Where?“ He asks, his voice hushed.

You raise your eyebrow. Miguel is supposed to be off duty?

“Why do you need to know?“

“I need it!“

“Nuh uh! Don’t you dare think about zipping off to whatever fucking Earth-199 you’ve got going on! You haven’t had a break in literally 4 years!“

“The kids are in danger!“

“Your mental health is in danger!“

“Tell me where my goddamn suit is! We’re talking about the future generation!“

“The only future generation you should be worrying about are the kids you put in me last ni-“

“Oh my fucking god, just tell me! Hon-“

You hang up on him, and Miguel sighs for the 10th time today, hanging his head low in frustration. He’s surrounded by clothes he never wears, the room utterly cluttered.

You know what, maybe someone else will deal with it? There’s thousands of spider-people in the building, it’s safe to say that they could take down at least one anomaly.

For now, Miguel needs a break.

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv miguel #x reader #reader insert #y/n #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv x reader #atsv x you #crack #humor #this popped into my head last night and i had to write it #cosmosis-writes ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

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bagopucks · 5 months

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J. Hughes - And The Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Date

✄————————————

Jack Hughes x Fem!reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warning(s): Sad!Jack :(

Something small for my comeback story <3

Thank you all SO much for the love!!! Send in some requests and I’ll keep the stories coming!

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“It’s gonna be the best date you’ve ever been on!”

What a horrible promise.

First, he was late. Something about media day extending longer than he had planned. Not his fault, but it did peeve me slightly. I hated when Jack’s work kept him from our plans unexpectedly.

Then our reservations were cancelled because we were both late, but have no fear! Jack had a backup plan.

A backup plan that went south the second he realized how hard it was to schedule a good reservation on Valentine’s Day.

So we decided to get ice cream.

Then it ended up on my dress. All because Jack’s hands simply moved too much when he talked.

I missed the guilty look in his eyes when we were both frantically trying to wipe the stain out of the fabric of my skirt. I knew how hard Jack could be on himself, but he was so good at hiding it, that I sometimes forgot to check on him.

When we left the ice cream shop, it started pouring.

Jack and I didn’t have umbrellas. He offered me his suit jacket to wear as we walked to the nearest bus stop. Only to find out that the bus wouldn’t be around for another hour. So we decided to trek home.

And just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse. I was starving and drenched and down a dress. The misfortunes didn’t end.

Jack didn’t set a timer on the oven for the pizza he put in. We only noticed when we started smelling the burnt crust.

Jack looked so tense that I hadn’t even bothered following him into the kitchen. I walked down the hall to find a change of clothes, and answer a call from my friend. I put her on speaker while I took light steps.

“Hey! Happy Galentines day! I wish you could have been there tonight.”

“I know.. me too.” I smiled sadly at the thought. It was my first Valentine’s Day that I hadn’t spent with the girls. “I miss you guys so much.” I stepped into the bedroom and pushed the door shut to a crack.

“We miss you too! But I mean- I just have to know what all you got into today!”

“Oh god, honey. If only you knew.” I giggled, pulling the wet dress off and tossing it into the hamper by the bed.

“I have all the time in the world. Did you get some wake up sex? Breakfast in bed? Did he spend the whole day cuddling you and giving you all kinds of gifts?”

“Nope.” I popped the ‘p.’ Truly I didn’t mind. Jack kissed me and wished me a happy Valentine’s Day before he left for work that morning. That was good enough for me. But now I wished at least something other than our morning had gone decently.

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“We had plans. But his stupid media day kept him late. And then we missed our date. Then I got ice cream on my dress and it poured on the walk home. And I’m starving and Jack just burned the damn pizza.” I let out a defeated sigh as I dropped onto the bed, setting my phone beside myself as I tucked my hands between my back and the mattress to unclip my bra. “This is what I get for leaving you girls.” It was meant to be a joke, but I couldn’t muster a laugh at it.

“Wow. Talk about Jack Hughes and the terrible horrible no good very bad date.”

“Exactly.” I shook my head. “Just one decent night out was all I wanted. We barely get time together any more.” I tried to keep my voice down. I wasn’t bad talking Jack in any way. I simply missed him, and the universe did everything in its power to ruin our evening.

“You guys still have the whole night.”

“A whole night where everything else could go wrong.” I stood up and crossed the floor to find a change of clothes in my dresser. “I’d rather just go to bed and forget this horrible day exists.”

“Oh come on now. Chin up. Jack still might have a couple tricks up his sleeve.” I wanted to believe that, but I knew he didn’t, because if he did, we wouldn’t have been home already. This was plan Z, and evidently, plan Z just crashed and burned like our pizza.

“Maybe.” I relented. I didn’t have the energy to argue. I pulled on an old cropped t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

“I’ll tell you about my day another time.”

“No, no.” I walked back toward the bed. “I wanna hear about it.”

“It’s okay, really. You and Jack should try and spend whatever time you can together. Especially after today. I promise I’ll save my stories for tomorrow.” I heard her quiet laugh over the other end of the line.

“Are you sure?”

“Just promise you’ll call me.” I sat on the bed as she spoke, letting out a sigh.

“I promise.”

“I love you, girlie!”

“I love you too.” There was a moment of silence before the line went dead. I let out a sigh and shook my head. I turned my attention to my sweats, one of my feet stuck and refusing to go through the hole in the leg. I groaned, and gave one last forceful shove before I managed to get my foot through.

What kind of sick joke was the universe playing?

“Fuck Valentine’s Day.” I mumbled, walking into the bathroom. “Such a shitty day anyway.” I turned the sink on and waited for the water to heat up, drowning out the sheepish voice of my lover in the hall calling my name. I didn’t hear him until he was halfway through the bedroom, and standing in the doorway of the bathroom.

I grabbed a towel from the cabinet.

“What’s up, Jack?” I asked, barely sparing him a glance as I held the cloth under the tap.

“Can we talk?” I heard him sniffle, and the second I looked up, I was greeted with a heart wrenching sight. I immediately turned the sink off and set the cloth down.

“What’s wrong?” I cooed, stepping forward to wrap my arms around him. In all my days, I hadn’t seen Jack cry very much.

“I ruined Valentine’s Day.” His quiet and broken voice was such a contrast from how loud and excitable he usually was.

“No you didn’t,” I reassured him, but I could already hear the quiet cries escaping his lips. “Jack.” I tried to get his attention.

“I’m sorry.” The middle Hughes had always felt like he needed to compete for his parents attention. Through no fault of Jim or Ellen, Jack had simply never felt like enough. He always idolized Quinn, and the problem with that had been that nobody can ever see themselves measuring up to their idols. He always fought for his parents love even when there was no reason to fight. And he’d isolate himself and berate himself when he’d ever done something wrong or bad. I knew he felt worthless for how badly the day had gone.

“Jack, honey, it’s okay.”

“I know you just wanted to be home.. and I’m so sorry I messed everything up.” He tried to pull away, always insistent on distancing himself when he didn’t feel like he deserved a hand to hold. But I pulled him back in with a gentle force.

“Jack it’s one day.” I reached up to hold the back of his head. “And I never said I wanted to go home. I just wanted to be with you.”

“It’s an important day. And the girls never messed it up.” His back rose and fell with sporadic breaths. There it was. That competition. Something he felt he had to measure up to.

I sighed out a breathy laugh. “Oh baby,” I slowly pulled away, reaching for his hands as I pulled him into the bathroom. I closed the toilet lid and motioned for Jack to sit on it, which he did.

“Do you know how many years have been chaos at galentines?” I asked. He shook his head. I stepped back toward the sink and grabbed the wet cloth, wiping gently at the makeup on my eyes.

“The first year, we only had a veggie tray because everybody was too broke to actually cook anything and we were all still in college.” I glanced at Jack in the mirror. “Our second year, we didn’t even plan a consistent time, so everybody just showed up whenever, and it was in the common room during March Madness.” I finished removing my makeup and tossed the cloth aside. I grabbed a paper towel and turned to Jack, leaning forward to wipe the tears from his cheeks. He sniffled once again.

“Year three and four didn’t happen because we got too busy with our lives. Year five was held in my first apartment. We ended up clogging the sink and having to learn how to fix pipes in the same night.” I lowered myself into his lap. “Year six we were going to go to the beach. Surprise surprise, Kathy forgot the plane tickets.” Jack seemed a bit reassured about that one. At least he hadn’t ruined a vacation.

“Nothing is perfect Jack.” I ran my hands through his wavy hair.

“It should have been.”

“Yeah, but it’s not. Things go south sometimes. It took the girls and I years to coordinate the perfect Galentines Day. We’ll get there too.” I tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear.

“So we’re okay? You’re not mad?”

I shook my head. “Baby, I would never freak out over something as small as this.” I pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I might not let you plan the next date, but I’m not angry.” I finally brought a giggle from his lips. “You went through so much trouble today to make me happy. Even if nothing went well I appreciated it. Thank you so much, Jack.”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #jack hughes #quinn hughes #ella’s updates #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes blurb #ELLAS BACK BABY

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prncessjaeger · 2 months

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i changed my mind 🎀

the day you met suguru was the day you wished you should’ve ignored him, but who could ignore the way you both instantly clicked despite the main difference between you two, him being the best friend of the golden boy aka satoru gojo, having everyone wrapped around his finger, and you being the girl who’s well… not very well known and coined the term, “never out pass 8.”

but suguru didn’t care, infact he seemed like he loved how polar opposites you both were, and you could tell by the way he’d compliment you, the rushed feeling he gives you when he kisses you, the ongoing lavish dates he takes you on, it was all perfect.

too perfect, infact. he treated you so well you could only see the good in him and that’s when the problems began. kissing his lips, you felt his arms circle your waist pulling you even closer. your hips grinded against his half-hardened dick, when you both were interrupted with yet another text from his phone. you felt him pull away, “noo sugu-” “give me a sec…damn,” he mumbled reading the content on his phone, “i..got to go,” “again?” your groaned, hopping off his lap feeling unsatisfied yet again and sighed when he mentioned there was another party he was invited to, “look ‘sugu, i trust you but it’s kinda hard to keep that trust when you’re partying every night with all those girls-”

“it’s always about the “partying”, good gosh, you jealous of them or something?” your face scrunched up in confusion, “uh no why would i be jealous of a party? i’m talking about you always leaving and going out to party?” he huffed and got up from his seat, “baby it’s college! who wouldn’t wanna go out and party?” “so you’d rather go out than be with your girlfriend?” he pushed your finger away when you pointed at him, “don’t start, besides you must wanna come with me or something?” you looked at the time, 7:37 p.m, then all the books and papers you had to finish studying, “why would would love to, but it’s getting late, and you know i have to-” “study. why can’t you brush it off for once and hang out with me, huh? you always blow me off for some dumn ass studying,�� he murmured the last part but you heard him pretty clear. “okay, fine we can go-”

“nah, i’ll go with kara and shoko instead, you focus on your 'studying'…” your head jerked back, wondering who the hell “kara” was, “ suguru i said we can go, studying can wait-” “nope. see you tomorrow.” he grabbed his jacket and keys and left your apartment in a swift, not even kissing your cheek like usually does. not feeling the want to do anything school related anymore, you closed your books and watched youtube until your eyes couldn’t stay open anymore.

the second time it happened, you both were at a prestigious dinner with all your friends when suguru abruptly left your side and left the restaurant, and shoko took notice, asking “where did geto go?” “umm that’s a great question, i’ll call him.” you grabbed your phone and dialed his number, frowning when it went voicemail. you called and called but to no avail he didn’t answer, “must be an emergency, so i’ll just send him a text, anyways how was vegas?” “oh it was amazing, we visited sooo many hotels and shows…” you casually listened to her story while checking your phone, only to be met with setting notifications and it honestly started to worry you. so, you ended up leaving the dinner early, catching a cab home only to be met with suguru himself standing at your doorstep, looking disheveled and marked up, “hey! where did you run off? are you okay? did something bad happen??-” you were cut off with your name falling from his lips sternly, “i’m fine. can i just come in and change my clothes?” feeling a weird vibe coming from him, you let your hands drop from his blazer, “sure.” you let him in, smelling a weird smell coming from his suit, “new cologne? it smells… fruity?” “nah, it’s probably your cheap perfume you like to wear,” you walked to him and watched him act unfazed, and you went to sniff his shoulder confirming that the smell came from him, “but... you smell like mangoes, suguru , and you know i hate mangoes- are you cheating on me?”

“oh my god! look, i went to-” “where! where’d you go hm, “kara’s house”,” you watched his hold his head in his hands and sigh, “no, i went to my aunt’s for a family emergency, and she hugged me…” he gave you a perplexed look, rolled his eyes and walked away to the bathroom. feeling guilty, you texted your friend, shoko, to see if you were just overeacting on the possibility of him cheating on you, but she ended up sending you a long voice note about how “suguru’s not shit” and “you deserve better,” and ended it with a detailed plan on how to leave him…

…but instead you brushed it off once more and let him cuddle you that night, forgiving him yet , again.

the third time was the final straw.

since it was the week off for break, everyone decided to go to the beach for a much-needed vacation away from school and ever since suguru helped bring your bags down to where you were sitting, you haven’t seen him since. satoru walked up to you and sighed, “hey! how’s you and suguru?” “oh!- we’re uh, doing fine…why?” he grabbed your drink from your hand, “just asking, you both seem a little distant compared to before,” hearing those words had you in deep thought, depicting every single interaction you and suguru had to prove satoru’s statement, “um, well he has been a little off with me?” “how so?” “just brushing me off, leaving abruptly, things like that.” satoru looked back to where suguru was, eyes widening when he saw him with a familiar tall blonde chatting it up at the beach bar, so he moved to be directly in front of you hoping you couldn’t see him, "what’re you doing?” “nothing, the sun was in my eyes so i moved to see you better,” squinting your eyes, you hummed and asked, “anyways, where’s sugu? you seen him yet?” he furrowed his brows, “oh i don’t know, i figured he was over here, that’s actually why i came over here but when i didn’t see him, i just talked to you instead-” when satoru’s nervous, he likes to ramble and spew out useless information.

a trait everyone knew satoru had.

“satoru…where is he?” you saw him rub his neck bashfully and sigh, “look i only found out just minutes ago when i looked back at him and-”

“found out what?” you asked but you went unheard by satoru, “- and i’d hate for you to find out this way, that would suck cause-” “find out what, what way?” “-cause you’re a really sweet girl but i just think you aren’t the…right one for him. i mean he’s so caught up-” “what?” “he barely shows you love-” “satoru! if you don’t tell me what the fuck is going on and stop talking over me?” satoru sighed and mumbled, “i’m sorry,” and moved to the side, revealing suguru and some tall blonde girl close together, watching him feed her…grapes? giggling with her- kissed her much more passionately than he’s ever kissed you “the fuck?”

like any normal person, you’d go over and probably curse him out, hit him a couple of times and leave him with breaking off the relationship, but instead you sighed and nodded, “you know what? i’m gonna go home and i’ll…see you later.” you packed up your towel and left in your car, suguru hearing your car speed down the highway, then turned to see your spot now being crowded by the others on the trip wondering where you’d drive off to.

“shit…” he muttered, the girl watched him sigh in his hands, “everything okay?”

“everything’s perfect, hey why don’t we uh, get out of here yeah?” hearing a small “yeah” the two got up and walked back to her car, and when satoru walked to the bar to confront suguru, he was now where to be seen…

…now, months have passed and you and suguru have barely spoken to each other by this point. even though you both officially never ended the relationship, he barely acknowledged you nowadays and stopped coming over, but you decided to not let it phase you and instead you focused on yourself, entering your “healed girl era” or whatever the coined term was.

since the…"split", you and satoru have gotten closer especially after he stopped being friends with suguru days after his amidst cheating, (he ended up staying by your side and even helped you out of your funk), and today he invited you to a party.

ironic, considering parties were the main problem in your past relationship, but you needed a change of scenery. being a nursing major was tough and sitting in your apartment all cooped up with billions of textbooks, you were tired! so, you went to your closet and picked out a cute top with a skirt to match, grabbing your fur boots and jewlery to complete the look. once you finished your makeup, you heard the doorbell ring and a set of keys jiggle, jumping when satoru’s loud voice echoed in your room, “y/nnnn!” “toruuuu!” “hey bestie-oh you look real cute, give me a spin hm?” he grabbed your hamd and spun your around, “okay so good news, i’m here bad news, the party’s in suguru’s house and it’s more of a get-together rather a party.” “hm…” you hummed, "i mean we don't have to go if you don't want to?" you grabbed your purse anyway and walked to the door, “but what if i still wanna go though?” “well let’s go!” he drove fairly quick considering suguru only lived 3 minutes away from you, and when you arrived you noticed the other couple of cars. you and satoru got out, him holding the drinks and your purse and knocked on the door, shrieks coming from shoko when she saw you, “it’s my babyyyyy!”

suguru turned his head hearing shoko’s claim and immediately knew it was you. his nerves skyrocketed and he sighed nervously, “hey everything alright?” the blonde he now dates, yuki, asked as she massaged his scalp, “yeah…she’s here,” “oh! uh, okay. don’t be nervous i’m sure she’d come around…” soon yuki would eat her words the minute you walked in the room, greeting everyone except the two. “ugh i’m so happy you’re here, i’ve missed you-gojo’s taking you away from us all the time now,” shoko complained as she hugged your figure, hasn’t let go of you since she saw you at the door.

suguru noticed how you looked more comfortable, relaxed even with satoru which was odd considering any other time you wouldn’t pay him no mind, and with shoko’s claim of satoru “taking you away” he wondered just how close you two were becoming.

after many, many drinks and games later, you excused yourself to the bathroom and after five minutes, suguru followed you up, satoru and shoko taking notice of it. drying your hands, you opened the door only to be met with suguru himself, “what’re you doing-” “you fucking him now? you’re such a slut you’d fuck my best friend next? and we haven’t even broken up-” “we were broken up the minute you put your lips on yuki! and you know that, so don’t come up here fucking accusing and yelling at me like i’m stupid! the fuck,” you watched him step closer to you, causing you to step back into a wall, “i still love you, you know that right?” “but i don’t love you,” suguru chuckled and rubbed his hand over his mouth, “you sure about that? just months ago you were telling me how much you wanted to get married and have my babies, remember?” he leaned down as his lips hovered over yours, “not anymore geto, i’ve changed my mind-” “ohhh so it's geto now? besides, it felt like you were determined before,”

“you just wasted my time geto, so move.” you shoved him out the way, feeling his hand grab your wrist, “baby, come back i missed you, we can do all the things you want if you just come back, i’ll be better for you i swear…” you heard him plead and please, over and over again but in the end it doesn't matter how many apologies he can spew out, like before and always,

you'll go right back to him…

#yeah y/n’s a bit…wonky #but who cares it’s suguru we’re talking about 🙈#jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru #geto x black reader #geto x reader #geto angst #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk geto #jjk x y/n #jujutsu geto #gojo x reader #jjk gojo

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piichuu · 6 months

Text

♡ DAYLIGHT - REMINDER

OCTOBER 22ND

6:38PM

the evening is rather cold as shoko opens the door leading into gojo satoru’s house. and as soon as you enter the hallway, the sound of people talking reach your ears.

music is playing in the background and the sound of pans clanging in the kitchen can be heard, indicating that those who are already in the house are cooking together. but doesn’t one of those voices sound way too familiar?

shoko had told you that gojo and geto would be there, but there seems to be even more people in the house. “are you sure that only satoru and suguru would be here, shoko?” you ask while putting your shoes away and taking off your jacket that you soon put on a hanger.

the brunette beside you shrugs her shoulders while utahime is wearing a smile on her face, one that she tries to hide as soon as your eyes meet hers. “who else is here?” you try to get something out of her, but just like shoko, she shrugs her shoulders and kicks off her shoes.

you three walk further into the house and you soon come to the realization of who else is there when you spot the blonde hair and beige suit. nanami kento is here together with gojo, geto and haibara. so this is why shoko and utahime stayed quiet. “did you know?” you look back at your two friends but they both quickly shake their heads.

“you came! hi y/n,” gojo speaks and as soon as your name is mentioned, nanami turns his head to face you, his eyes widening for a quick second before he goes back to helping geto with cooking.

gojo walks over to you and pulls you in for a quick hug before doing the same with shoko and utahime. he leads you into the kitchen where you sit down on a chair and look at the men who are cooking dinner for the friend group.

everyone talks to one another in the big kitchen, except for you and nanami who didn’t expect to see each other again, especially not like this. “i didn’t know you would be here,” you mumble, leaning back on the chair as the blonde man looks at you from the corner of his eye. “i didn’t know you would be here either.”

he sighs and leans against the counter. “you think they set us up?” you nod in response, looking over at your friends who are gladly talking to one another, glancing over at you and your ex every once in a while. “i don’t get why they are trying so much though.”

nanami shakes his head and nudges geto, telling him that he’s finished making the burgers that you will eat later. he then goes to sit by the table, on the chair beside yours. “don’t you think we should talk?” he asks, resting his head against his hand.

“what is there to talk about?” you sigh. “you broke up with me, you told me why you broke up with me, i’m trying to get over you. there’s nothing to talk about. if i knew you would be here, i wouldn’t have come.”

hearing that causes nanami to keep quiet. maybe there is nothing else that needs to be said after all.

you look at him for another quick second before glancing away. were you too harsh? “i’m sorry, it’s just that i’ve been trying to forget about you for so long and now it seems like i’ll never be able to avoid you.”

the man beside you flashes you a light smile as you look back at his face. “it’s okay, but there’s no need to forget. just because we’re not together anymore doesn’t mean we didn’t share great memories. i know it would probably be easier not to see each other, but since we have the same friends, that will be difficult,” he explains.

you nod in agreement, leaning your cheek against the back of the chair. “i’m still mad at you though,” nanami chuckles lightly. “i know, but can we agree on not pretending to be strangers?”

he reaches his hand out and you take it, giving it a light shake. it’s been a long time since you last held his hand. it’s however just as soft as it’s always been, no matter how many curses he kills.

his eyes that are boring into yours are no longer giving off the same light that they so often did when the two of you were around each other. they have become dull and grey. the smile he gives has become a forced one and when he speaks, his breath only smells like whiskey. a smell you had stopped getting used to the more you got to know each other.

“i thought you’d stopped drinking,” you admit as nanami lets your hand go free and looks around at the others in the kitchen. they’re busy helping each other cook. “it’s only every once in a while, not a big deal,” he explains, but as someone who were his girlfriend for two years, you’re well aware of when he’s lying. you decide not to mention it though, there’s no reason for you to care about his health, right?

“dinner is ready! come on, let’s go to the living room and watch something,” gojo speaks as everyone grabs plates and food to carry to the couch in the living room.

everyone sits down and begins to eat while gojo looks for something to watch on the tv. you’re currently sitting in the middle of nanami and shoko, the latter giving you a smile as if trying to encourage you, but you quickly shake your head.

but sitting on a couch like this with your ex by your side does cause those never ending feelings to reach your heart yet again. how he used to always hold you close whenever you sat by one another, it never mattered if you were with your friends or alone, he would always make sure you felt safe.

he would press kisses to your cheeks whenever he felt you becoming stiff in his arms due to being overwhelmed by so many voices at the same time. nanami would never allow himself to just sit there and not do anything.

there were so many nights when the two of you were just cuddling up on the couch, talking about your future together. how many kids you wanted, your dream house, all the trips you wanted to go on together. but all those future plans have run down the drain, because who else would you ever want to share those with if not with him? the man you had planned on marrying sometime in the future.

“you should eat something,” nanami mumbles and you’re quickly ripped out of your thoughts, just now realizing that you haven’t taken a single bite out of the burger. you nod your head and begin to eat, doing a light shake of your head because why can’t you seem to ever stop thinking aboubt nanami kento? it’s been months, you shouldn’t still be this in love with him, right?

SEVEN | MASTERLIST | NINE

PAIRING: nanami kento x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: nanami thought he did what was best for y/n when he broke up with her, but he could not have been more wrong. he isn’t making it better when he accidentally sends her a follow request and doesn’t even realize.

WARNINGS: none i think

TAG LIST: @yourmumsthings @minibolos @kaitfae @purplecandygerl @rijhi @hangezoeisabaddie @ilovekennyomega @qualitygiantshoepsychic @peachesnoranges @manigeulti @idekwhyihavethisl @satoruskitchenrag @jtoddwife @ketchupsush1 @hana-patata @splxtscreen @mysuperrainbow @changbinsuals @zenilili @creative1writings @bloombb @vynz0ne @tranzumaki @libbyistired @sad-darksoul @r0ckst4rjk @becsmarvel @magalimachete @wxnderless @letthewindlead @lyannablaiddyd @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @rreborn @stardusthyuck @trashywolfhard @lvrmelanii @thvunaise

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tsumuswifey · 10 months

Text

Katsuki Bakugo x Reader :) Inspired by The Summer I Turned Pretty

“Do you feel like dancing?” You asked, fiddling with the neckline of your dress.

UA was holding a winter formal. It was a sad but appreciated attempt to keep the spirits up in the midst of a growing war. Having been together for a few months, you asked Katsuki to go with you, though he wasn’t all that enthused by the idea. Still, he agreed.

“I’m not really much of a dancer.”

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. You wanted to ask why he even agreed to go with you if he was just going to mope around the entire time, but decided against it. “Alright.”

You watched longingly as Kirishima twirled Mina around. Katsuki didn’t even have to do all that. You just wanted him to try.

From beside you, Katsuki shifted. “I’m sorry. We can dance. C’mon.”

The dim lighting caught Katsuki’s golden hair as you moved for the dance floor. It was painful, how beautiful he could be. And even more painful that he never let you in, never allowed himself to bring his walls down. He pulled you in close, resting his hands on your hips. You swayed with him, trying to catch his gaze.

His mind was clearly on other things.

“Katsuki,” You began, “Is everything okay?”

His gaze was stuck on the wall, red eyes sparkling from the fairy lights strung up.

“Katsuki?”

He snapped out of it, raising his brows. “Yes?”

You clicked your tongue, eyes welling up with tears. The past few weeks, he’d been increasingly distant. He never really wanted to be alone with you anymore, he hardly kissed you, and his mind seemed to always be on other things. It was clear to you, that he wasn’t really into the relationship anymore.

Sniffling once, you swallowed down the lump in your throat. “I need to use the bathroom, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Oh, sure. I’ll just sit back down.”

The bathroom was packed when you got there, a line of girls was going out of the door.

“Hey, Y/n, you can cut in line and stand with us!” Ochako said from her spot, reaching out a hand. She looked beautiful in her pink dress. You were sure Izuku had at least told her that.

You shook your head, and pointed toward the exit. “I’m just going to get some air.”

“Are you crying? Did Bakugo do something?” She asked quietly. You shook your head, though the tears were a pretty good indication that you weren’t being truthful.

You walked away before she could ask any more questions. Outside, the cold air bit at your exposed skin. You were sure you were going to have frost bite by the time you felt good enough to go back in.

You were unsure of what to do about Katsuki. You liked him, maybe even loved him. But you couldn’t stay with someone who didn’t want to be with you. That wouldn’t be fair to either of you. You sucked in a breath, feeling the pit in your heart grow.

You just wanted a hug from him. Which was ironic, considering he was the reason you were feeling this way in the first place.

It couldn’t have been more than five minutes before you heard snow crunching behind you. Moonlight was peeking through the clouds, illuminating the world around you just enough that you could make out a person.

“You shouldn’t be out here wearing only that. You’ll freeze, Y/n.”

You hugged your arms around yourself. “Yeah.”

“Did I do something?” Katsuki asked, shrugging his suit jacket off. He handed it to you, before rolling the sleeves of his white dress shirt up his forearms.

You shook your head. “No. You didn’t do anything.”

Katsuki slid a hand into the front pocket of his slacks. “Well, then, what’s the matter? Because I know sweet little Uraraka didn’t freak the fuck out on me for no reason.”

You grimaced.

Licking your lips, you tilted your head back to glance at the sky. “That’s just it. You didn’t do anything, Katsuki. You haven’t been in this for weeks. I can tell. I just wish you’d stop stringing me along.”

He never really was one to be overly emotional, unless it was the angry kind. So, rationally, you should have known that he wouldn’t be the typical boyfriend. But couldn’t he at least try?

When he didn’t say anything, you just scoffed. “Okay, well, if you won’t just fucking do it then I will.”

You couldn’t look him in the eye, didn’t see the fear that flashed through those red irises.

“This is done. We’re done,” You spoke quietly. You reached for your necklace then, choking on a cry when your fingered touched the cool metal. Katsuki had gotten it for you a couple months in, a white gold chain with a K charm on it.

You ripped the chain off, and shoved it into Katsuki’s chest.

“Wait, what? Y/n.” He called after you. It started snowing then, thick pieces of snow that were cold on your bare shoulders. “Wait!”

You could hear his footsteps hurrying after you, the huffing that left his mouth.

“Stop trying to fix something you clearly don’t want!” You whirled around, eyes blurry with tears. “I don’t understand how you went from being so sweet to me to suddenly not caring. I don’t know why you even agreed to come to this stupid shitty dance with me anyway. You couldn’t even pretend to have fun, you asshole.”

You blinked your tears away, enough to look at him. Katsuki’s chin quivered, eyes downcast.

He took a shuddering breath, his chest shaking. You couldn’t tell since his face was turned down, but it seemed like he was either crying or trying not to cry.

“You don’t want your necklace?” He asked quietly, rubbing his thumb against the charm of his initial.

“I don’t see why I need it anymore, if we’re broken up.”

Katsuki’s shoulders shook then, and he brought a hand up to his mouth, in an attempt to keep his cries in. “I didn’t mean to fuck it up.”

He looked up at you, the look of pure devastation in his eyes. “I don’t want you to leave me. I was scared. I am scared. It’s not you, baby. You look phenomenal and you’re making me so nervous I can hardly stand it. But, I don’t deserve you. I’m scared that I’ll never deserve you and I’m sorry I haven’t communicated that you.”

You shifted from one foot to the other, feeling anxious under his stare. “Why have you been acting as if I’m just anybody? You hardly ever kiss me or hang out with me anymore. It’s like you don’t even want to be near me.”

Katsuki sucked in a breath. “I realized that I love you and that scared the shit out of me. Not much scares me, baby, but I’m scared absolutely shitless of losing you. I love you, and this life isn’t promised, especially with all the conflicts with the League of Villains. I don’t want to lose you. I couldn’t bear knowing what it’s like to have you in my life like this if anything happened to you. If I lost you now I think I’d die of heartbreak.”

Snow fell in his long blonde lashes, and his cheeks were flushed from the cold. He was beautiful. Adonis incarnate.

You stepped close to him, sliding your arms around his torso. He was warm, and his dress shirt was soft against your cheek. “Oh, Katsuki. I don’t want to fight anymore.”

He leaned down, wrapping his arms around you. It was like he was trying to shield you from the hurt. “I’m so sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean to fuck things up. But I want to be good for you, I want to love you properly.”

You pressed your face into his chest, his heartbeat sounded like angels singing. “I love you, Katsuki.”

“I love you,” He breathed. “Turn around. I’ll put your necklace back on.”

His fingers were warm against your skin as he clasped your necklace back on. “Want to go back in and dance?”

You smiled softly at him, “No, can we just go back to my house? Put on some comfy clothes and watch a movie?”

Katsuki grinned at you, his pearly whites biting into his bottom lip softly. “Yeah, baby. We can do whatever you like.”

#bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo imagine #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #my hero academia #katsuki x reader #mha imagines #bakugo angst #bakugo fluff

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wttcsms · 12 days

Text

repeat offender, hiromi higuruma.

pairing hiromi higuruma x f!reader word count 1.9k synopsis vignettes of hiromi higuruma's life, featuring his inevitable early-onset mid-life crisis, his disillusionment with the justice system, and how he can't seem to shake you off. content contains law partner's daughter!reader, no curses au, corporate/big law lawyer!hiromi, bratty, always trying to get a reaction out of him reader x just trying to survive the day hiromi, slight age gap (hiromi is 26, reader is 20), eventual smut in later parts, sfw but suggestiveauthor's notes something a bit different; just wanted to test out diff narrative formats lol (and also, this was the closest thing in my gdocs to being finished & i feel guilty for not giving y'all new content)

all the wrong dialogue options were chosen here

Despite the ceiling clearance being so high that it’s enough to make a man of his stature feel small and the fact that despite all the warm bodies in this banquet hall right now, it would still be more of a challenge to bump into someone rather than avoiding them; despite the fact that the air conditioning system must be working overtime since he hasn’t felt the need to shrug off his tuxedo jacket once, despite the fact that he’s free to leave at any time he wants since he’s already gone through the obligatory introductions and the empty pleasantries—

—despite it all, Hiromi Higuruma feels trapped. The walls are slowly closing in on him, and someone from across the massive room is laughing a bit too loudly, and the ceiling, with its intricate crown molding, feels like it’s going to collapse onto him at any second.

That’s the problem when you decide to be someone you’re not. He’s constantly on his toes, always having to look behind him, always trying to make sure his mask isn’t going to slip. Fresh out of law school. Top marks, top of his class, actually. As expected, as always.

Hiromi is used to setting the curve, so it doesn’t take him long to learn how these circles operate. Laugh at the right jokes, order the right drink, find the right people to praise, the right suit to wear — he’s good at figuring out the right answers to everything.

“The party’s never going to end, so if you feel like leaving, you might as well just go now.”

Hiromi turns to face the source of that sentence, only to have to glance downwards, taking in the sight of you. Glossy lips, long lashes, slinky gold gown clinging to the curves of your body. He swallows. Hard.

You smile. Sweetly.

“Before you go, though, you mind getting me a drink from the bar?” You point to the bar that’s across the room, the area Hiromi just left, one old-fashioned in his hand.

The first wrong thing Hiromi says is, “It’s an open bar.”

Your shining smile barely falters, but he catches the subtle curve of a frown almost taking shape.

“Do you really think I could fight off that crowd?” You give him a faux pout, one that only emphasizes the pretty shape of your lips.

Looking like that, he thinks you wouldn’t need to fight the crowd to get the bartender’s attention. Everyone would probably be clamoring for yours, actually. He doesn’t tell you this, though. Instead, he says, “Like you said, I might as well just go now.”

Boo. This stranger is no fun. What a waste of good looks, you think to yourself. Taking in the way his body fills out his suit, the tall bridge of his nose, the sharpness of his features — maybe it’s for the best that he’s no fun. You’re not sure how you would be able to keep your cool if he actually was interesting.

“Don’t just paraphrase. I remember saying that after telling you you should do that if you feel like leaving.”

He wonders what you’re doing here, at one of the biggest charity galas sponsored by the big law firm he’s going to be joining shortly after his graduation. There’s no way you’re a law student; only a select few final year students were invited in the first place. He can’t fathom you being someone’s plus-one; looking like that, he certainly wouldn’t be able to let you out of his grasp.

He doesn’t ask you anything, though. He doesn’t compliment you, or say anything that’s on his mind. Instead, he hands his half-empty glass to one of the catering employees walking by that’s collecting dirty glasses, and he tells you, “I’ll be heading out now. Good luck with the bar.”

It certainly wasn’t the right thing to say, but being a genius comes with some pressure. He figures he’s allowed to give out a few incorrect answers every once in a while.

apex predator

The click-clack of your four-inch heels making impact against the tiled floors of your father’s law firm serves as a signal to everyone that they need to seek immediate shelter (read: cower in the nearest coworker’s office) and try not to make direct eye contact with you.

When the boss’s daughter comes to visit, everyone’s on edge.

Everyone except the new hire.

Hiromi Higuruma is by no means slow on the uptake, but he’s clocking in the most billable hours out of everyone. Very rarely does he get a chance to take a break, and he doesn’t plan on wasting what few precious minutes of a break he can get on hiding from some brat whose single defining characteristic is sharing the same last name that’s plastered on this skyscraper of a building.

When he passes you by in the hallway, you catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye. Broad shoulders, slim waist, and a familiar slope of a nose bridge you’ve seen before. You almost falter in your footsteps — almost.

bucket list idea: fuck in an elevator

There’s something intimate about being in the same elevator as someone else.

When there’s a handful of people, it’s casual. Simple. Someone who forgot deodorant, someone who’s running late for work, someone who just burnt their tongue trying to drink their coffee too fast. All of it is mundane.

Being in an elevator where it’s just you and him — you haven’t decided yet if it’s a gift or a punishment.

“My father loves the work you’ve been doing,” You’re the first one to break the silence. You can only hope that he’ll be the first one to break the distance between you two: a respectful four feet apart.

Hiromi clears his throat, straightens his tie. He’s staring straight ahead, right at the shiny silver of the stainless steel doors. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I’m not the one who said anything about your work.”

The corners of his mouth almost turn up at that. He fights the urge to smile.

“Then thanks for the honesty.”

“Do you like that?” You ask him.

“Like what?”

“Honesty?” You ask it innocently enough, but when you give him those eyes, and make your lips form that pout, everything comes out sounding sultry. He’s convinced you could be reading his most recent M&A deal out loud to him and make it sound like you’re reading an erotic romance.

“Well, I’m a lawyer.” He finds that he has to bite back his smile when he’s around you. He stares at the slowly changing numbers on the screen. The two of you entered from the parking garage, and the elevator’s making its steady ascent to the thirtieth floor.

“So that’s a no.” You muse.

Hiromi makes no comment.

whatever pays the bills, i guess

Hiromi Higuruma, unlike every other undergrad trying to get into law school, does not take… creative liberties when it comes to his personal statement on why he wants to become a lawyer. Potential medical school students lie and say they want to “save lives” because “living with six-figure student loan debt for the first decade out of school and then making crazy bank afterwards seems like a good trade-off” just doesn’t sound very awe-inspiring, does it?

In another life, he thinks he’s probably a defense attorney. Representing the Little Guy. Keeping alive his desire to uphold the principles of justice and that the wrongfully accused receive fair representation. Even with the odds stacked against his client, he’s certain that he’s good enough to win their case.

However, the world is unfair. Doing the good thing rarely pays off. Being a good person doesn’t get you very far, either. One of his former classmates was such a bright, kind girl. Passionate statement of purpose, too. She applied to all the same law programs as Hiromi and got accepted to exactly zero of them.

Hiromi got into every single one, and his statement of purpose was honest, straight to the point, and damn-near clinically cold.

I need a competitive environment that takes pride in its intellectual rigor, but I have no desire to pursue medical school just to spend a decade in college and residency. Law school seems most appropriate for my needs.

who hired the intern?

Hiromi doesn’t know what you do around the firm, just that you’re constantly here.

Even when you’re not physically present, he still finds traces of you lingering everywhere. The scent of your perfume that sticks to the elevator’s walls, your now-empty medium sized iced matcha latte in the trashcan of the breakroom, whispers of your names when his colleagues are in the mood to gossip, the click-clack of your heels that he can hear from inside his office even though his door is closed.

He can’t tell if you’re just inescapable or if he’s constantly subconsciously seeking you out. He doesn’t want to know the answer.

What he does want to know the answer to is why you’re sitting on top of his desk at seven in the morning, your medium sized iced matcha latte in all its green glory (this is the first time he’s seen it full and not as an empty plastic cup in the trash). You’re wearing a fitted white button down with a gray wool skirt that will have the HR manager doing a wide-eyed double-take when you walk past her. Your legs are crossed, and Hiromi scolds himself for noticing.

He focuses on your face instead, upset to see that you’re still doing that unfair move of yours — that pout, those eyes.

“What are you doing in here?” Hiromi manages to get the words unstuck from his throat. He’s not even sure how you got the keys to his office, and then he remembers who your father is.

You smile brightly.

“My dad says I need some ‘resume-boosting’ activities, and how convenient is it that the firm is looking for an off-cycle intern?”

How convenient, indeed.

“Still doesn’t explain why you’re sitting on top of my desk.” During your chirpy exclamation, Hiromi manages to pull himself together. He’s getting a few steps closer to you. He’s not going to sit behind his desk, not yet, but his approach only serves to bring you two into closer proximity. If you stretch your legs, the pointy tips of your stilettos will brush against the fabric of his trousers.

“Well, every intern at the firm is apparently assigned a lawyer to work under. Y’know, to be a mentor.”

He can’t decide if he likes or detests where this is going.

“And,” you continue. “Dad only wants the best for me. It’d be, like, kind of suspicious to be working directly alongside my father, though.” Yes, Hiromi muses. Because getting a law internship at one of the most prestigious firms during your undergrad is certainly not suspicious at all. “So, the next best thing would be the so-called prodigal lawyer that everyone can’t stop praising. How convenient is it that you’re able to watch over an intern for the semester?”

“Very convenient.” Hiromi raises an eyebrow. “Are you going to get off my desk now? I can’t imagine you’ll be able to learn much if your back is going to be facing me when I’m sitting at my desk.”

“Whatever you say, sir.” You hop off the desk, gently tugging your skirt down in place. He keeps his eyes focused on your face the whole time.

#hiromi higuruma x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #one shot #drabble #fluff #imagine #jjk headcanons #hiromi higuruma x you

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unreliablesnake · 1 year

Text

Dress-up game (Vincent de Gramont x reader)

Summary: Vincent comes home sooner from a business trip, and immediately wants to see you in one of his three-piece suits.

Note: It's the same reader that was in “Proposal.” / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button. I don't have a taglist.

Warnings: Mentions of sex. Minors DNI, I guess.

Sometimes when you missed Vincent, you raided his walk-in closet to pick something to wear. He had some casual clothes, although he rarely wore them, so you freely chose a plain green shirt, a white full-zip hoodie, and a pair of boxer briefs that you had never seen on him. He was abroad for work, but he was supposed to be back by tomorrow night.

One more night until you could finally kiss him again. Until you could wrap your arms around his body and feel the warmth radiating from his skin. Until you can tell him how much you love him face to face. Until his hands roam your body like that was the first time he laid his fingers on you.

These last nights alone were always the hardest. The mansion wasn't entirely empty, the staff was there, but it still felt like there was no one around. As long as his side of the bed was empty, you were hopelessly lonely. Sometimes you thought you were in too deep, that this relationship was taking away your independence, but you always convinced yourself that it was worth it.

“You should wear my clothes more often,” you suddenly heard Vincent whisper into your ear as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. “I would kill to see you in one of my three-piece suits. Don’t you want to play dress-up?”

With a bright smile on your face, you turned your head just enough to see his face. He got back sooner than expected, and the thought made your heart beat so fast that you expected it to jump out of your ribcage. “Now?”

“Why not?” he asked as he placed a soft kiss on your earlobe, his hand slowly moving past the hem of the boxers you wore.

You let out a sigh as you leaned back against him, your mind already somewhere else from the sensation of him touching you again. Two weeks was a long time, you were utterly touch-starved by now, and even the smallest and most innocent of touches could light your body on fire.

All of a sudden he moved his hands to your hips and turned you around with one confident move. “Come on, just one suit,” he told you quietly. “I want to see you in the one with the red jacket.”

There was something truly mind-blowing about the way he could play your body like a violin, fully aware of how one flick of his wrist can change everything in an instant. Your mouth fell open, chest heaving at a rapid pace while you tried to figure out what to say.

You didn't really feel like changing your clothes, but his green eyes were boring into yours as if he was silently trying to convince you to do it. And damn, he was good at this game. It was impossible to say no to him, so you just nodded and waited for him to tell you what to do.

But instead of ordering you around, he just took a step back and slowly undressed you, a playful smile creeping on his lips as he watched your naked body. He ran a finger down your chest, then went to the walk-in closet to get what he wanted you to wear.

“It will look stupid on me, you know,” you told him when he returned and put the clothes on the bed. He gave you a questioning look while helping you into a dress shirt. “You’re much taller than me,” you said, watching him button up the piece of clothing.

“You couldn’t look stupid even if you wore a clown outfit,” he assured you before kissing the tip of your nose.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” you told him with a short laugh.

Vincent shook his head, but decided to remain silent. Instead he picked up the pants and signaled you to raise a leg. You did as you were told with your eyes fixed on him, wondering why he was so keen to see you dressed like that. He did or said weird things every now and then, but this was new.

“I'm just sure you would look lovely. I might even get one tailored for you,” he said as if he could read your mind. His fingers brushed against your skin as he tucked in the shirt, and he seemed to enjoy the way your breath caught in your throat as a result. “Are my hands cold? Or do you want me to touch you that much?”

Instead of answering, you waited for him to offer the vest, and while you put your arms through its holes to put it on, your eyes were fixed on the hardwood floor. Yes, you were desperate. You were dying to be touched by him, to be fucked by him, but it appeared that he enjoyed this game way too much.

While he did the buttons of the vest, he leaned down to give you a kiss; a sweet, slow kiss that savored this moment of unusual intimacy between the two of you. You couldn’t deny that there was something good about this game, specifically the way he gently dressed you up like a doll. He only ended the kiss when he reached down for the red jacket, flashing a predatory smile at you as he offered it to you.

Letting out a sigh, you put it on and gave him a questioning look. “What do you think?”

“You look absolutely stunning, sweetheart,” he said as he took your hand and twirled you around. “I’m sure I’ll get you one of these,” he whispered before kissing you again. “Now let's get you out of it.”

#vincent de gramont x reader #marquis vincent de gramont x reader #vincent de gramont #marquis vincent de gramont #marquis de gramont x reader #marquis de gramont #john wick 4 #john wick #john wick chapter 4

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

Note

hello hello!! may I please request steve n hawkins where he’s a little bit more overprotective over her with billy—and she actually just lets him be? haha hope that makes sense and thank you so much for sharing your work!!

“Has Hargrove been buggin’ you again?”

Steve slung a leg over the bench, sliding in beside you. He set you with a soft look, even though his brows were furrowed. Worried. His hand reached out to touch, fingers skimming underneath your T-shirt to graze at your waist.

You thought about lying. You didn’t want to upset him, but you’d told Robin, a frustrated complaint late last night before bed ‘cause Billy wouldn’t shut up after Jason got sick and Murray set him on schedule with you.

“Princess…”

Robin must’ve told Steve. You sighed, not annoyed, but tired. Pushing away your lunch, you glanced across the table at Nancy who nodded in understanding. She murmured a goodbye and went off in search for trouble to break up, making a beeline for Dustin Henderson’s table, ‘cause Eddie (who was supposed to be on lunch duty) was too busy talking to the new girl.

Steve squeezed at your hip, waiting for an answer. You shrugged, your smile weak as a little defeated, ‘cause you didn’t want Steve to see how much the other boy was bothering you. As much as the bloody and rugged look suited your boyfriend, the deduction in wages wasn’t ideal, not when you were both saving up for a place together.

“When isn’t he?” You tried to joke, but Steve’s frown furrowed deeper. “Babe, it’s fine. It’s Billy. He’s… Billy.”

But Steve didn’t let it go. He saw the downturn of your lips, the way you leaned into his touch for comfort. “What’s he been saying?”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“You don’t want to know.” It’s like you could read his mind. The corner of Steve’s lips ticked up. “You’d push him in the lake or something stupid.”

Steve leaned in, chin hooked on your shoulder, nose nudging at your cheek, the closet he’d get to giving you a kiss with all the kids around. “That sounds pretty tame,” he commented.

“You wouldn’t let him back up,” you added, smiling.

Steve grinned, his hand bumping up the side of your ribs, ghosting too close to the band of your bra and you squirmed, shooting him a look that said, ‘behave.’

“You’ll tell me, though?” Steve asked, voice dropping to a low murmur, thumb soothing over the skin on your stomach. You turned into him, nose nudging his and you knew you would only be granted seconds of the closeness before some kid threw food at you both. “You’ll let me know if he takes it too far?”

You nodded, smiling, eyes drooping prettily, that soft, fond way that Steve fucking adored, ‘cause you only did it for him.

And then—

The mess hall doors slammed hard enough against the walls that several kids jumped. And rightfully so. Billy strolled in, sunglasses still on and wearing a denim jacket instead of his staff T-shirt. He bypassed Eddie who rolled his eyes at him, stole a slice of pizza from Mike Wheeler’s page and walked right up to where you and Steve were sitting.

Billy tore off a piece of the crust, grinning at you as he chewed and he looked ready to say something, something lewd, especially for Steve to hear. You braced yourself, eyes bored looking as you stared back at him, chin lifted. But before Billy could say a word, Steve cut him off, pulling you closer into the space between his legs as he did.

“Say one more word to my girl, Hargrove, and I’ll make sure Murray finds a reason to search your cabin again.”

Billy stared, eyes narrowed but still smiling. He was pissed off, you could tell. So could Steve, but the boy hid it with sardonic amusement.

“Is that right? Feelin’ like a big boy with your girl beside you, huh?

From the corner of your eye, you saw Eddie move closer, weaving between tables without drawing the kids attention. Steve met his gaze, eyes flicking from Billy’s just enough to nod at his friend. ‘Wait’, it said, ‘it’s fine.’

Eddie stilled.

Steve turned back to Billy, shrugging as he lay a wide, warm palm on your bare thigh. It felt protective, not possessive.

“Would be weird if he found some snow in July, wouldn’t it?” Steve shot him a look of faux confusion, but he tapped at his nose knowingly.

Billy glared. But he took a step back, throwing his half eaten pizza on top of your lunch tray.

“Whatever, Harrington.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #camp blurb

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ashfacetblr · 3 months

Text

AngelHusk angst/smut pt 2

Husk watched while Angel meticulously ran shampoo through his blood and cum soaked chest floof and hair. He offered to help him get his back, and offer that was kindly accepted.

Husk may have lingered a bit, rubbing circles in his back with the loofa calmingly. Angel clearly didn’t mind though, leaning into the impromptu massage. Given the night he had it certainly didn’t hurt. However Angel Dust was feeling himself enough to start cracking jokes by now, problematicly.

“Come on Whiskers, not even a little distracted at my nude body” He said, tilting his head back.

“Hadn’t crossed my mind, little worried with your safety right about now” Husk shot back, continuing over to Angel’s shoulders.

“Sure you don’t wanna carry me away?” Angel teased, lifting a leg out of the water.

“Nope, think you’ve had enough of that for tonight anyway.” Husk said, ruffling the spider’s hair with his free hand. “Besides, if I was gonna fuck you, it wouldn’t be like this.” He added, definitely sharing to much.

“Oh? And how would you fuck me?” Angel asked, blushing at the sudden change of tone.

“Well for one,” Husk started still rubbing around at Angel’s back and shoulders. “It wouldn’t be some stupid bathroom hookup.” He huffed. “Id be real romantic about it.” This shot a quiet heat through Angels bones he had not expected to feel after tonight.

“How so?” He asked, eager for him to continue.

“Well for starters I’d take you out to dinner. Someone nice. Id wear a suit and tie, you’d wear some sleek little red dress or something like that.” Husk’s tone was shifting somewhere it definitely shouldn’t be trekking by this point.

“This a whole little fantasy of yours ain’t it whiskers?” Angel dust asked, sliding his back up against Husk’s chest, leaving Husk’s hands hovering above the water aimlessly. The cat made quick work of moving them to Angel’s lower set of shoulders

“Tell me more~” Angel teased.

Seeing this as a point of no return, Husk continued on.

“After the restaurant we’d go on a nice walk. Real pretty. Starring up at the stars, I’d tell you how much I adored ya, kissed you under a full moon. You’d get cold and I’d give you my jacket for the ride home.”

Husks hands cautiously slithered forward, searching for any sign this wasn’t what Angel wanted, but given he leaned into him further, he slowed slid his fingers up and into his chest fluff, rubbing at his chest.

“Id keep a hand on your thigh on the ride home-“

“Do we do anything in the car” Angel dust nearly whined the interruption.

“No, but you want me to though. But I absolutely plan to take my time, be a proper gentleman and rail you on a bed.” Husk asserted. He noticed Angel had his own hand on himself, moving slowly.

“Wed drink wine for a bit when we get back, then I’d carry you off to my room.” Husk spoke into Angel’s ear in a soft, sultry voice. He slid a hand down Angels body as he continued.

“I lay you down on the bed real gentle, making sure to kiss you all over that pretty little face and neck.” With this is gently placed a hand on Angels jaw. “Then I’d slide off the pretty little dress you’re wearing-“

“What am I wearing underneath?” Angel breathed excitedly, moving his own hand out from under Husk’s.

“Black lingerie, the real classic lace kind. Held on by a couple loose bows” At this, Angel whimpered. “We don’t do it just yet though, it says on while I take the time to tease ya. Get ya all worked up”

“What do you d~do?” Angel moaned at Husks hand motions under the bath water, the original objective long forgotten.

“I kiss every last bit of your body first, tell you how beautiful you are. Then I go down on ya, but I don’t let you come. That’s to easy” Husk tighten his grip and Angel writhed back against him. “I just get you all worked up.” Husk added.

“I take my clothes off-“

“What are you wearing” the spider whined with ecstasy

“Nothing, I always planned on everything coming off anyway” The winged man mused and resumed. “I take my time getting ya ready to, all nice and gentle, one finger at a time” He kissed at Angel’s neck as he said it, thrilled by watching the taller man come undone.

“You sound about like this when I slide it in, helpless and needed. Lucky for you Im done with teasing ya.” Husk whispered, sure Angel was close by down. “I start slow at first, then I fuck you like a mad man.” He moved his hand faster. “In and out, kissing ya and biting ya, hands all over your body-“

“C-Choke me~” Angel begged. Husk obliged and squeezed his hold on Angel’s throat. Husk continued describing how this fantasy them went on. Details of choking and begging until Angel finished into the bathroom water with a loud whimper. Husk pulled his hands out of the water and dried off. He set out a towel and some extra bandages quietly much to the confusing of Angel Dust.

“Let me take you to dinner some time, wear a dress.” He added before promptly walking out.

-End-

#hazbin husk #hazbin hotel husk #angelhusk #angel dust #huskerdust

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plutoccult · 3 months

Text

NO ME QUEDA MAS

pairing: hajime iwaizumi x female reader

description: iwaizumi’s wedding day was a day you dreaded for many years. now that the day had finally come, you regret never telling him how you feel.

word count: 1.6k

also available to read on my ao3 here

author’s note: finally, a new theme! i’m on an angst GRIND, you guys. been feeling really unhinged lately thanks to my girl @intorder for giving me fuel for angst, who also beta read this hurt piece. oddly enough, my life has been pretty good lately, so idk why i thought to write this. i’ve never written for iwaizumi before, but he came to mind first when i thought of this idea. this was definitely inspired by that one scene in 13 going on 30, but i made it hurt even more. i hope i did iwaizumi justice, and i hope you all enjoy without crying?

tags: @toorubobatea @intorder @dragon-slayer5 @jeanboyjean @femme-lune @darthferbert @kob3nie @thelazyhuevito @multi-fandom-fanfic @sterieshinso @kiiyomei @chrybdcsm @alienlatteinspace @abonbonblr @luverofutoshi @p3ritwinkle @juuzou13

taglist form here

“well? how do i look?”

iwaizumi turned around to face you as he showed off his suit. you couldn’t believe he was actually getting married today, and that the person he was marrying wasn’t you. it was hellish to shove your feelings down your throat for decades, especially when your friendship suffered god knows how many miles apart.

a part of you died the day he returned from california. you were so thrilled to see him, missing him so, but your heart shattered the second you saw he brought a girl with him. it was even worse when iwaizumi spoke to you about her, saying he felt like he knew she was the girl he would marry the second he saw her. you wanted to be that girl, and maybe you could’ve if you simply spoke up. after all, everyone always teased you two about ending up together growing up.

“you look great, iwa.” you force a smile. it wasn’t a lie, he was the most handsome man you’d ever seen, standing so proud and tall in his suit. not a single scratch or crease on his shoes nor any signs of wear in his jacket. as much as it pained you to see it, iwaizumi had grown up.

“you think so?” he asked, checking himself out in the mirror, scanning for any flaws in his outfit. “i could’ve sworn i saw lint on the back of my jacket.”

“oh, i can get it.” you offer. iwaizumi immediately said “yes, please” and “thank you” before you stood up to help him. his back faced you, shoulders as strong as ever, making this all the more difficult for you. if you were his bride, you probably wouldn’t be seeing him like this right now. it was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, after all.

“how come your groomsmen aren’t up here helping you?” you ask, cursing yourself in your head for being so nosy.

“i’m sure you can understand i didn’t want oikawa up my ass before i go down there.” iwaizumi chuckled. you force yourself to copy his laughter, pretending as if you found this so hilarious. if oikawa were here, you wouldn’t be ridden with temptation right now. only he could stop you from saying things you knew you’d regret.

“i guess i should feel special then, huh?” you question. “be the first to see you like this…”

“mhm.” he replied, you see him nod in the mirror. “special privileges for my best friend.”

you felt your stomach tie up in knots as he said that. best friend. that’s all you were, that’s all you ever allowed yourself to be. it could’ve been you waiting for him at the altar, but instead you’re helping him get prepared to marry another woman, ready to beg him to run away with you.

you pretend to inspect the back of his jacket, knowing there wasn’t any lint anyway. it was absolutely flawless, just like him. this was torture for you, and you couldn’t stand another second longer.

“listen, iwa…” you begin to say. “i should tell you something before you go down there.”

“oh?” iwaizumi turned around to face you. you felt as if his eyes were piercing through your soul, making your heart race faster than it was before. “what is it?”

“i, um…” you hesitate. was it too late to go back? yes, yes it was. “i think you’re marrying the wrong girl today.”

“huh?” he furrowed his eyebrows.

“i mean, i think you should be marrying me instead.” you blurt out.

“y/n, what are you talking about?” iwaizumi questioned. this couldn’t be real, this couldn’t be happening right as he was about to get married.

“i’m in love with you, iwa. i love you.” you admit, your heart racing upon your confession. you should feel a weight being lifted off your shoulders, but something heavy still lingered on top of you.

“no…” he shook his head. iwaizumi had rejected the possibility a long time ago. even if he loved you just as long as you loved him, you were just too late.

“yes. i am.” you say.

“you’re saying this now?” he asked you. it almost made him want to laugh. life was just so funny, he thought to himself. why couldn’t you have said this before? why did you wait until he was about to get married? if things were different, iwaizumi would be reacting to this much differently right now.

“i know i should’ve told you before you went to california—“

“should’ve? i wanted you to!” iwaizumi interrupted you, much to your shock. “everyone said you were going to before i left! i just figured they were just messing with me afterwards…”

you remember telling oikawa how you felt about iwaizumi, it was his idea to tell him before iwaizumi left for california. you had it all planned out in your head, but as you stood there at the airport, you couldn’t find the words anymore. you chickened out, cursing yourself on the way home and the days that would come. it only made you feel worse when iwaizumi found someone.

what you didn’t know was that he expected your confession that day. you should’ve known oikawa would run his mouth. he always meant well, always hoping you’d end up with iwaizumi, but look at you now, a delusional fool.

“i was going to, iwa. i just got scared…” you confess to him. “if i could go back to that day, i’d do it differently.”

“well, you can’t turn back time, y/n. it’s too late.” he said coldly, almost like a stab to the heart.

“why not?” you ask, desperately clinging onto your delusions.

“i moved on.” iwaizumi replied. he might as well be twisting a knife, even if he was merely speaking the truth. “we've both gone down different paths, we both made choices, and this is what i’m choosing.”

“i just thought…” you began to say, but fall silent.

“just thought what?” he asked, raising his voice. “that i’d give up everything i’ve built for a last minute confession? one that i gave up on waiting for years ago?”

you don’t say anything. what was there to say? it was exactly what that sick part of you deep down expected. how stupid of you to think he would drop everything just because you finally had the courage to confess your feelings. if there wasn’t a whole wedding waiting to happen, maybe iwaizumi would change his mind.

you look away in shame. even if you didn’t speak your thoughts aloud, you still felt disgusted now that the reality of your confession hit you. you were terrible to think this way. not just a terrible person, but a terrible friend too. it was unfair to expect such a tall order out of him, especially now.

“my family’s down there, my soon-to-be in-law’s are down there.” iwaizumi said. “we care about each other, you know?”

“i know.” you say quietly as you bite your lip.

“y/n, you…” he let out a sigh. “you don't always get the dream house… but you get awfully close.”

you look up to meet his eyes, tears streaming down your face. to him, you were always the dream house. if only you had known that before, you thought. iwaizumi felt ridden with guilt rejecting you like this, and it didn’t help that you were crying your eyes out.

“please don't cry, y/n.” he begged you.

“what? no, i'll be fine, i promise.” you force out a laugh, no matter how much it killed you. you saw the look in iwaizumi’s eyes. he knew you weren’t truly okay, but he also knew that you were letting him go. it was the right thing to do.

“y/n…”

“it’s okay. i'm fine.” you wipe away your tears, trying your best to be strong. “i'm just crying because i'm happy. i want you to be so, so happy.”

you did, you wanted him to be happy. even if it wasn’t with you, you owed him the ability to be happy. it was the least you could do while you still had some of your dignity left.

“i love you, iwa.” you barely get the words out. “you… you're my best friend.”

you see iwaizumi’s eyes well up with tears, a rare sight to see. only you could produce such a reaction out of him. only you would truly have his heart forever, but life doesn’t always work out the way you want it to. it was just the way things go.

“i should go. everybody’s waiting for you.” you say, on your way out the door.

“y/n, i...” you stop in your tracks, waiting for what he’d say next, and it only crushed you even more. “i've always loved you.”

overwhelmed, you walk out of the room in tears, ready to bolt out of the venue without another thought. oikawa found you on your way out, asking what was wrong and where you were going, but when he saw mascara running down your face, he knew exactly what happened, and he knew he should’ve been there to stop it.

you insist to oikawa that he tell iwaizumi you were sorry before you finally left the venue. you couldn’t stand to be there a second longer, you just had to get out of here. as you head to your car, you hear the beginning of the wedding march play. the sound brought you to your knees as you violently sobbed. if this was rock bottom, then you finally reached it.

as much as you wanted to cry there forever, you force yourself to get up, finally finding the strength to get into your car. you didn’t know where you were headed, but you knew you had to drive off somewhere far away from here. if only you could just turn back time.

#haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x female reader #haikyu x female reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #hajime iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x female reader #hajime iwaizumi x female reader #iwaizumi x female reader #iwaizumi hajime #hajime iwaizumi #pluto writes 📝#gif divider by cafekitsune

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lelengerine · 11 months

Text

call you mine

✿ pairing | haechan x reader

✿ synopsis | sometimes, love letters might just be the way to get someone to like you (or maybe it’s because they’ve liked you for the entire time).

✿ genre | kinda tooth-rotting fluff at some points, a little bit of childhood friends to lovers, also pretty cliché so bear w me here

✿ wc | 1.4k

✿ notes | hello! this is a sequel to sincerely, yours and i highly suggest reading that first but this can also be read as a stand alone fic too hehe <3 ngl i kinda got carried away writing this ;0; as always,, lmk ur thoughts on this one :D

m.list

if you’d ask him, haechan wouldn’t know how long he’s been staring at the mirror, picking out clothes from his closet before tossing them into the far corners of his room.

each second passes by and the more his irritation grows from the fact nothing seems to be just right. he knows he’s just going for a casual trip with you, and that’s all it’ll ever be, but the back of his mind itches at the thought of being with you for a couple of days straight.

sure, you’ve seen him wear all sorts of things back from when the two of you were little. the first time you met, he was sporting a shinchan shirt in the brightest green you’d ever seen. he even used to wear this one jacket that’s seen it’s fair share of days (correction, he still does), and you’ve always complimented how much it suits him.

you’d honestly be the last person to care about what he’d show up in, and yet, he wants to look the best for you. he doesn’t know why this is exactly the case, but he’s never questioned it too much to care either.

haechan then pulls up a purple hoodie littered with embroidered patches from his closet by the hanger, recognizing it almost immediately. not because it’s an item he’s worn so often, but because you borrowed it more than once before. he still remembers how the fabric would completely engulf your figure, obviously being too big on you. though, you always tell him that’s exactly what you prefer.

he always thought you looked cute in it anyways.

carefully folding it up, haechan packs it into his small suitcase — the hoodie now being the first piece of clothing that rests inside.

checking the clock, he doesn’t have much time left before needing to pick you up and painstakingly tries to gather all the things he needs to bring for the trip, rushing with you in mind. this trip would be marked as the first time you would travel together. well, more like the first trip without your parents coming along since they deem you’re both old enough to not get into stupid situations. at least, that’s what they wanted to assume from the both of you.

okay, so maybe he should be a little more nervous than he is. whatever, the jitters will come hit him straight in the face soon enough when he least expects it.

he finishes stuffing his suitcase full of items, albeit a bit sloppily and not at all like he originally planned for, but it’ll have to do. he’d rather have a messy bag filled to the brim with wrinkly clothes that might not even be fit for the weather than be late to the time you both agreed he’d pick you up on.

-x-

haechan soon arrives at the front of your doorstep pretty much on the dot, hand instinctively reaching into the pocket of his jeans to pull out a replica key with a mini teddy bear charm dangling from it. you gave it to him for when he ever wanted to spontaneously visit you and it’s something he treasures dearly, knowing it symbolizes the trust you place in him.

eagerly, he rushes up to your room, assuming you’re still inside. “y/n- are you ready to go?” he questions, sounding a little flustered to see the area empty. it isn't like you to leave your room unattended. did something happen-

“i’m in the bathroom! i’ll be out soon.” he hears you yell out soon after, placing his heart at ease.

“oh thank god,” he mumbles softly, not knowing what he’d do if you were gone.

he takes the time to look around your room, noting how practically nothing has changed since he last visited when he was much younger. there are still glow in the dark stars that vaguely shine on your ceiling, ones he helped you stick because you couldn’t reach the ceiling even with the height offered by your bed. hell, even the wooden cabinet you use hasn’t changed for the past years and is kept in good condition thanks to your care.

it’s like he’s reminiscing everything he’s known about you all at once. every little detail only he knows as your best friend.

there is, however, one small thing that sticks out of place in his eyes. a small, well-kept box rests below your desk, one he’s never seen before nor heard you talk about.

he believed you always told him about everything that went on in your life, so why hasn’t he known about this? perhaps he had been mistaken all along.

the thought can’t help but form the start of a crack on the notion of him being your best friend. maybe someone else had already taken that spot away from him right under his nose and he had realized just a bit too late.

he didn’t want to be the person who would limit you to who you make friends with, quite the opposite actually, but jealousy serves to be a weakness in him – slowly seeping into his mind and clogging his train of thought. he could only wish he wasn’t feeling this way right now.

it's that same jealousy that urges him to pick up the box, crouch down and quickly take the lid off. there, he finds the dainty envelopes stored away with utmost care and attention to detail.

each one is signed with ‘sincerely, yours’ written at the bottom left in a perfectly executed cursive font, and that’s when he realizes they’re letters written with someone in mind.

he sighs, returning back to the times you’d nag him to learn lettering with you. he would never take the lessons seriously, but you always did. so this was why you wanted to learn how to write so prettily, he quickly assumes.

his heart grows heavier the more he rummages through the box, the realization of the envelopes being love letters sinking in slowly but surely into his soul.

you like someone, he thought to himself.

so it wasn’t even someone stealing his title of best friend. it was someone who had stolen your heart. that someone was the person he yearned to be for so long, and now, it was never going to be him seeing as you’ve even committed to writing down letters.

since when did you even write letters? haechan scoffs to himself bitterly at the thought.

“hyuck, i’m done. we should get-“ you come out of the bathroom unannounced, not even giving him a chance to gather his thoughts. “…going.”

he probably caught you just as off guard, judging by the way your shoulders stiffened up and your line of sight instantly focused on the letters that now rest in the palms of his hands. he already pieced together the fact he was never supposed to know about this, much less rummage through your things without consent.

what was he even going to tell you? surely he could not get himself out of this situation with an excuse after being caught like a raccoon searching for scraps in the neighbor’s trash can at night. instead, haechan does the next best thing he could think of.

“…y/n? what are these?” well, to be fair, he never said his idea wasn’t outright stupid.

truthfully, he doesn’t know whether asking you directly was the right thing to do. yes, he knows he’s the one at fault in this situation, yet this was the only way he could hear a proper answer from you.

he just wanted to pull the bandaid off his heart and accept the fact you have feelings for someone else. any form of hatred you throw his way after all this, he will gladly accept.

with a deep breath, you finally answer him with “they’re… sincerely yours.”

and for the second time today, haechan’s brain goes blank. did you just say all those letters were for him? no, he probably interpreted your words incorrectly.

“mine?” he utters out moments later, voice still laced with confusion.

you sheepishly nod your head along to his words, further confirming what he had originally perceived about those letters were oh so wrong. his heart that was once sinking was slowly coming back above the tide, meeting the bright, blue sky.

his lips curl upwards into a smile unbeknownst to him, however, you’re quick to notice – taking that as a sign your feelings may have not been so one-sided after all.

“can i… read them?” haechan looks at you with stars in his eyes and you wonder if that’s a reflection of the glow in the dark stars that decorate your room’s ceiling or if it's just him glistening under the sunlight that barely manages to shine into your room.

just how could you decline when he’s acts like this in front of you?

“after our trip?” you propose, “at least you’ll have something to look forward to when we get back.”

“okay, but does that mean i get to call you mine?”

now you’re the one flustered, heat creeping up to the apples of your cheeks. just how much did his confidence surge knowing the letters were for him? “i don’t know- i mean, you haven't asked me out yet.”

“oh baby, you genuinely don't know how long i’ve waited for this moment.”

#nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct angst #nct dream angst #haechan fluff #haechan angst #donghyuck fluff #donghyuck angst #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct dream imagines #nct dream drabbles

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chaseadrian · 2 years

Text

vandalism in the closet

Rushing off to Atlantic City to elope with Eddie might be a stupid idea, it might be the best idea you've ever had. But if there's one thing you do know, it's that rockstars know how to trash hotel rooms.

pairing: eddie munson x f!reader tags: 18+ ONLY, explicit, established relationship, elopement, dom!eddie, also soft!eddie, fluff, post-canon, like circa 1989 or something word count: 4k+ a/n: if you listen to She Rides by Danzig right as you start reading, by the time Eddie starts singing lyrics the song should also be around the same lyrics. fun thing i noticed lol but uhh yeah this one is minimally edited so feedback and comments are appreciated as always. likes are great, reblogs are better.

When you and Eddie came up with the idea in the middle of the night, you thought you’d change your minds somewhere along the way.

Hopped up on the adrenaline of his cock buried inside you, his hair dripping sweat onto your shoulders, you thought the cold swipe of a wet washcloth on your stomach would change things.

You thought when your heart rate slowed you’d change your answer, he’d tell you nevermind, you’d both just give up the idea.

When he slipped one of his rings on your finger—the corroded steel band and webbed howlite crystal just a tad too big for your ring finger—you still didn’t think it was real.

When you hopped in the van, when you loaded up with snacks at the corner store, every pit stop and refuel, every passing state line—commemorated with grainy photos from your polaroid.

Every memory you’d made in the eleven hours it took to get to Atlantic City, none of it felt real.

Sure, you could’ve gone down to the courthouse, could’ve celebrated at the Hawkins motel, but Eddie wouldn’t stand for it.

“Only the best of the worst for my girl,” He’d said with a wink, with your hand pressed against his lips.

And though the Elvis impersonator was booked, Cher ended up being a better stand in. Good enough for you. Good enough for two idiots who found themselves wearing makeshift rings and rushing off to the nearest high rise hotel.

You were against the wall before the door closed, Eddie’s mouth on your neck, towering over you, his hand on the wall above your head.

“Why don’t you go get all pretty on the bed for me?” His voice had you shuddering, and you pulled him in by the back of the neck for a filthy kiss. Your tongue pushed into his mouth, the slick of his lips sliding against yours, a faint growl sitting in his throat.

You ducked under his arm, and his hand caught you with a firm smack on the ass before you rushed over to the bed, slipping out of the flowing white dress you’d pulled from the back of your closet and thrown on.

Shucking off his jacket, he followed you into the suite, diverting to turn on the radio. He turned the dial, finding Danzig somewhere between poppy Madonna and the immortal Sinatra. Cranking the volume up as loud as it would go, he pointed at you and mouthed the lyrics, shaking his head as he stepped towards you.

You leaned back on your elbows, melting into the mattress as his figure covered you. The giddiness in your chest had you laughing, but as he whispered the lyrics, one of his large, calloused hands dragging down your body, you choked on your laughter.

She slides, Down inside your skin

Falling to his knees on the carpet, he put a hand on either thigh, spreading you slowly, letting his head fall back, shaking his hair with the words.

In time, She will make you scream

He buried his head between your legs, sucking a wet patch into your underwear, hands on the insides of your thighs stretching you open as wide as you could stretch. Wider, still.

You lost all sense in that moment, before his tongue had even touched your cunt, before he’d snapped your underwear away from you with his teeth, sticking them in his back pocket before diving back into your folds. The music was deafening, thrumming in your chest, making you ache for him.

Without asking, you knotted your fingers in his hair, pushing him deeper against you, burying his face between your legs.

Eddie was too amped up to care, the coarse black denim of his jeans straining his hard cock. He brought a hand down to his bulge, groaning into your pussy as he palmed himself, as he unzipped, tugging on his cock until he was starting to lose focus on making you scream.

Letting go of his cock, he resituated his hand on your body, sliding over your bare tits, his thumb smoothing over the hard nipple, squeezing nail marks into your skin.

His tongue swiped up your slit, flat against the wall of nerves, head tilting left and right, coating your cunt with his slick spit.

You slammed your head back into the bed, over and over as his tongue worked your clit, fuckfuckfuckfuck and please, fuck right there, pleasepleaseplease and all manner of noises almost completely silenced by the thrashing music from the radio.

Eddie could hear you, though, could feel your voice from your chest, from the way your tits bounced with each jerk of your body, each spasm of nerves, from your head smashing into the mattress, desperate for release. Hot air hit your cunt as Eddie laughed, his lips pressing into your inner thighs, licking away the beads of sweat, skin flushed from the way his hair smothered your skin.

You combed your fingers through his hair, waiting for his tongue to come back, waiting for his face in your pussy, waiting for the release you thought you were promised. You whined and lifted your head up, watching as he stared at you from beneath furrowed brows, tongue skating up your abdomen, between your tits.

Whining again, your hands sliding over your thighs, just grazing the slick skin of your cunt before Eddie shook his head at you, and you snapped them back, curling them up between your bodies.

He brought his lips close to your ear, almost a whisper with the music blaring, and you felt the tip of his cock prod at your hole.

“What’re you whining for, huh?” He teased his tongue on the outer cup of your ear, “You don’t think I’d take care of my wife.”

Not stated with fondness, but with possession, he slammed his dick into you, and you inhaled a sharp gasp of air.

“Cause that’s what you are now, isn’t that right?” Fucking his cock into you, he slid a hand behind your head, nails against your scalp, tearing at your hair, tugging until it hurt.

“You gonna be my good little housewife? Let me fuck you against the stove? Suck me off when I come home from work?” He threw his head back and cackled, closing his eyes and ramming into you harsher and faster until you were losing your breath.

The rough hilt of his pelvis against your clit, the bursting pressure of his cock in your cunt, he had already worked you enough with his mouth and before you could stop it you were spasming and crying, clawing at the comforter on the bed, framing your bodies with the plush linen.

Eddie came not long after, hot bursts of cum seeping from the seams of your cunt, his cock pumping the orgasm out from your body, belt buckle clinking with every thrust. He kept fucking you without letting you cool down, but you were high on the night, high on Eddie, and the blunt you’d smoked on the way to the hotel room helped too.

Tugging his shirt off, he ducked back down to your mouth, squeezing your jaw with his hand and sticking his tongue between your lips.

“If you think I’m gonna give you a break, you’re dead fucking wrong.”

Except, he eventually did.

You both thanked the universe for all-night room service, a white rolling cart of fries and crab and whatever your blissed out minds could think of was there twenty minutes from the moment Eddie put the phone down.

White robes adorning your slicked up bodies, you sat on the floor of the suite’s living space, shoveling food into your mouths.

He threw a fry at you, and you caught it between your teeth, beaming at the applause he gave you.

You took a swig of the champagne he’d ordered, cringing at the taste. Eddie smiled, exhaling a laugh from his nostrils.

“Hey you uh,” He started, reaching over to play with the cuff of your robe, “You think we made the right decision?”

Shrugging, you brought his hand to your lips, kissing the knuckles, “I dunno, but like, do we ever know?”

He looked down and nodded, swallowing hard, shaking himself out of his worry, “Guess not.”

You squeezed his hand, interlacing your fingers and swinging them in an arc, back and forth in the air, staring at the ring on your hand, the rings on his. The way they slid together, scratched up over years of use.

You sang the words, plucky and brief, “I. just. know. I. love. you!” Bouncing your hands in the air with each word, you smiled at him and cocked your head, “Eddie, I drove eleven hours in the car with you and we didn’t like, die or kill each other. You ask me, we’re battle tested, baby.”

There was a moment of pause when he looked at you, the amused smile on his lips teetering between keeping the moment sweet and turning you into a slobbering mess again. The way you rested his hand on your thigh with a gentle pat, the way you went back to the pile of fries, a sip of champagne, a grimace. You did a double-take when you realized his eyes hadn’t left you once, those cavernous brown eyes that wrapped you in warmth, brought you home.

“What?” You asked, physically unable to wipe the smile from your lips.

He propped his elbow up on the table, sitting his cheek in his palm, “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

You leaned over and pressed a kiss to his nose, “No, you.”

He shook his head with a laugh, “Babydoll, how are you still this blitzed?”

Shrugging again, you teetered over to his lips, and he slid his hands into your hair, his palms pressed against your cheek.

“You know how much I love you?” He asked, gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips, the tips of your noses brushing against each other with every deep inhale he took.

“Nope.” You grinned, letting your head fall into your shoulders, staring up at him.

He kissed you, a deep, smothering kiss that lit up your brain, had you melting against him. The kind of kiss that forces your eyes shut, forces the world away until it’s just the blackness behind your eyes and his lips on yours. Not rough, nor desperate, just full. Like every step you took was made with this kiss in mind, getting you to this moment, something of a crux, a certainty, an answer to all the times you’d looked up at the sky and asked why?

Eddie pulled back from the kiss, eyes wide as though he’d just had the same revelation as you, “Me neither.”

Then there was that tongue in cheek smile you knew, the one that saved him from the kind of vulnerability you both shied away from when you could help it.

With your heart bursting in your chest, you could no longer help it.

“Eddie.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, “Yeah, doll?”

You wrapped your fingers around his wrists, holding his grip on you.

“If someone told me that, y’know, waiting, at the end of—of all the bullshit and—and bad things and whatever, I went through,” You looked down for a moment, blinking fast and shaking the thoughts away, “If they said I had to go through it to get to you…there’s no doubt in my mind that I—I would.” You loosened your grip on his wrist, running your thumbs in a pattern over and over the same spot of his skin.

“Ohh, baby.” His voice was soft as he pulled you into his lap, hands wrapping around your shoulders, rubbing your back.

“No more bad things,” He said, holding you as close as he could, “Not long as I have anything to say about it.”

You breathed against the soft fluff of the robe, allowing the silence between you to settle, the faintest hum of the radio over in the bedroom carrying the moment, the comforting thrum of an electric guitar.

Neither of you wanted to break the comfort you’d fallen into, Eddie’s hand petting the back of your head, your fingers sliding underneath the lapel of his robe, grazing the tattoo on his pec. There was no doubt in your mind you’d made the right decision today. In five years, ten, twenty, maybe that would change.

But right now?

Right now, nothing felt better than his ring on your finger.

You pulled your head away from his chest, looking up at him, into those brown eyes. Always sparkling, always home, and they fluttered closed as you leaned up to kiss his cheek, spattering pecks down to his jaw, covering his face until he was smiling and you could press your lips to his dimples, too.

He shook his head at you, combing a hand through your hair, stilling when you finally made it to his lips.

Eddie melted easily when you were sweet to him, cheeks flushing pink, posture sinking into a bashful curve that was entirely incompatible with the daunting tower of his frame when you weren’t being so sweet.

He pushed against your kiss, guiding you down to the floor, keeping rhythm with his lips as he balanced himself over you.

You linked your hands behind his neck, your ankles around the backs of his knees, bringing his body in, his weight firm and comforting on top of you, but he pulled back.

“Can’t believe you’re all mine.” He flicked a few strands of hair out of your face, smoothing a thumb over one of your eyebrows.

You wiggled your left hand in front of his face, “Believe it, babes, I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

He licked the back of your hand, and you jerked it away with a hey! and a laugh, Eddie ducking into your neck to press kisses that tickled you more than anything else, and you kept giggling until he pulled away.

“Hey, excuse me, I’m trynna kiss my wife here.”

You feigned surprise with a gasp, “You’re married?”

Eddie cocked his head back, “Well, ‘married’ is kind of a loose term.” He rolled his eyes as he talked, that shiteating smirk on his face, “Don’t you have a hubby waiting at home for you? I thought we were both stepping out here!”

Sitting up on your elbows, you forced Eddie to back away from you, hovering in wait, “Ugh, I do.” You scoffed, shaking your head, “He’s a total burnout, though, and he’s got a tiiiiiny—”

He covered your mouth with his hand, laughing, “Don’t you dare.”

You licked the palm of his hand, but he just stared at you, lips stretched into a smile, tilting his head in amusement. You squinted your eyes at him, waiting patiently until he slid his hand away.

“Tiny dick.” You sputtered out, tucking your lips into your mouth, trying to hold back a smile.

“Oh how dare you!” He laughed, ducking into your neck, tickling you again, his hands unfastening the tie on the robe so he could get at your hips, fingers coasting across the skin until you were slapping him on the shoulder, pushing on his chest, trying to get him away.

Eddie held strong on top of you though, kept you there until he’d decided to bring his lips to yours, laughing as you tried to regain your breath, efforts ruined by your own laughter.

The kisses deepened as the laughter died off, Eddie moaning into your mouth, reaching between you two to tug free the rope of his own robe, bare bodies squishing together. His cock hardened against you as you made out, but he made no move to fuck you yet, both of you content with his skin on yours, lips gliding together.

There was no telling how long you stayed like that. With the city lights outside, the night was livelier than the day and the only sign of passing time was the change in tempo from the live music down the street.

When the hard thrashing turned to soft rock, when your lips were swollen and red, bodies slick with sweat, Eddie started shifting down. He dragged his mouth down the column of your throat, over your tits, tongue swirling over each nipple, sucking until you were nice and firm. Slower down your stomach, his fingers finding their way to yours, grounding you in the moment, keeping you from getting overwhelmed with the excitement of what comes next.

Lips on your pelvis, your thighs. He paused to look up at you, and you brushed his hair out of his face, grazing his cheek, thumb at the corner of his open mouth. A warm wash of exhilaration lit up your skin when he tilted his head, tongue sliding under your thumb, lips closing over the dewy skin.

Eddie swirled his tongue around, eyes burning into yours, before he pulled back and closed in between your legs, that first graze forcing your head back into the ground. You squeezed his hand, languishing in his slow laps of his tongue, just nicking the nerves of your clit.

He moaned into your pussy as he sped up, never hitting the speed he’d hit earlier, just driving you deeper and deeper into the feeling of his mouth. You kept yourself disciplined, quieting your moans, holding your body down best you could. It wasn’t that kind of moment, but you knew he’d be proud anyway.

And proud he was. Spurred by the restraint, he worked harder to break you, sliding two fingers into your pussy, curving them against your walls, coupling the pressure in your cunt with the sharp pleasure from your clit. He never turned rough, only sped up as your breathing did, hand still tightly laced with yours, slowing down every time it seemed you might break.

You relished the hot moisture of his mouth, stirred with giddiness every time he pulled you back from the edge.

“Oh,” You breathed, mind fuzzing with television static, his tongue making you dizzy, “Eddie, I love you. I love you so much.”

You combed a hand through your hair, and he lifted his head, pressing a kiss to your thigh, “I love you too, doll.” And ducked right back in, driving you closer this time.

It seemed you had cracked the code, because Eddie didn’t slow down this time. He took you to the edge and over it, squeezing your hand and encouraging you with soft hums. The wet laps of his tongue faster and faster until you were paralyzed on the floor with bliss, a velvety pink warmth spilling from your legs, coating your body in pillowy elation.

Eddie wiped his mouth as he made his way back to your lips, kissing you with the same sweetness as earlier, slow and quieting. He whispered between you, “You wanna ride me, babydoll?”

You leaned up to kiss him again, nodding against his lips, and he slid a hand around your back, guiding you as he flipped onto his back. You threw a leg over his lap, straddling him, still slick pussy enveloping him between your folds.

He breathed a sigh of relief, smushing his bangs up off his forehead with his hand, exasperated and wanting.

“God, I fucking love you.” He exhaled, his fingertips running down your torso, “You’re so hot.”

“Mmm,” You smiled, sliding forward, lining his cock with your entrance, “Speak for yourself.”

He slid into you with impossible ease, breath leaving his lungs, eyes screwing shut, “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

Grinding against him, you smiled, “Wonder why that is?”

“Shh, don’t tease,” He groaned, setting his hands on your hips, guiding you back and forth over his dick, his hips bucking up, locking your hips together.

You leaned down to kiss him, “Sorry, babes.”

Eddie pawed at you until you leaned down to him, burying your head into his neck, kissing harsh marks into the skin. He slid his hands down your back, lifting his hips, “Make me cum and all will be forgiven.”

You rolled your hips against him, leaning back up, hands on his shoulders, “Deal.”

You found yourself struggling to maintain rhythm, already drained from the torture of his tongue on you, the delayed gratification of your orgasm wearing you out now as you tried to maintain your composure.

Eddie slid his knees up, sensing your fatigue, fucking into you, taking control as he was wont to do. His hands held you down, fingers sliding up your back to bring you down to his lips, letting you rest in his neck, overwhelmed and panting against his skin.

It didn’t take long before Eddie himself was speeding up, fucking you faster, harder, but with the same delicacy, the same flattery, I love you’s and fuck, you feel so good and the prettiest moans you’d ever heard.

You pulled away from his neck to see his face as he came, features painted with agony, eyebrows knit together, crinkles under his eyelids, pink lips open and gasping, the shudder of his pelvis with every moment of undoing. It was a beautiful fucking sight, and you pushed your lips hard against his, grinding against him, heightening the orgasm. You loved him like this, loved the way he could lose himself under you, when he couldn’t help but surrender to you.

With a few last thrusts, Eddie came down from his peak, wrapping you in his arms, his cock still buried inside you, cum seeping onto his thighs. Your breathing synced over the minutes that passed, hands in each other’s hair, stroking through the knots.

“I love you,” Eddie sighed.

You lifted your head up, resting your chin on his chest, letting out a pleased hum, “I love you too.”

He tilted his head up, straining to kiss the top of your head, and fell back against the carpet.

The two of you stayed there until you were sure it would hurt to stand up, your legs still straddling him, just listening to the muffled music from outside, the faint radio in the bedroom.

“How cold you think those fries are?” He asked, and you painstakingly rolled off of him, groaning from the dull pain in your legs, the effort it took to unstick them from their splayed position.

“Ow, fuck,” You whispered, reaching over to grab a fry and pop it into your mouth, stretching each leg out at a time as you munched on several more fries, “Not so cold that I wouldn’t eat the rest of them.”

Eddie shot up, wiping away the cum on his legs with the bottom of his robe and bringing his hand down onto the fries like a claw, taking a chunk of them off the plate to shove in his mouth.

You smacked him on the arm, “Hey, manners, buddy.”

He spoke with his mouth full, reaching over to take a swig of your champagne,

“Manners? Never heard of ‘em.”

And that was how the weekend continued. Holed up in the hotel room, throwing away money on expensive room service, hands on each other’s bodies, lips covering every inch they could reach, sweat and champagne and blankets on the floor.

The room was trashed by Monday morning, bathroom towels flung about, picture frames crooked on the walls, a side table turned over. It wasn’t irreversible damage, but it was incriminating enough that you spent a few minutes fixing what you could to save face with housekeeping.

With your duffle bag in hand, you waited by the door for Eddie to join you.

“Hurry it up, babes, we got a long drive ahead of us.”

“Yeah yeah yeah I’m comin’!” He yelled from the bedroom, and you dropped the bag to go see what was keeping him.

He had his back to you as he leaned into the closet, scrawling something on the underside of the shelf.

“There.” He stood back and gestured toward it, “Check it out.”

Scrawled in fading Sharpie were your initials and the date.

You laughed and grabbed his hand, “Real juvenile of you, Eddie.”

He winked and dragged you back to the door, reaching down to grab your bag, “Like I said,” He kissed you, smiling against your lips, “Only the best of the worst for my girl, and I’m the best.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #my writing #mine #i dont looooove the writing on this one but i like it #its fine #but like. red light at the bowling alley fucking sends #so comparatively ofc im not gonna be screaming about this one lmfaoo

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nikethestatue · 4 months

Text

A Match Baked In Heaven

Chapter XI

The Weight of Love

“What in the world happened?” Elain demanded, seeing Azriel wearing nothing but a button down shirt and a suit jacket. It was the middle of December!

He squeezed inside the house and shivered.

“Do you want to catch another cold?” she fussed. “You just got better a day or two ago. Weren’t you on the date with Mor?”

“Yeah,” he grimaced. “Thanks for that, by the way!”

“Why? What happened?”

“Let’s just say that I don’t think that Mor should be your client for much longer.”

“How come?”

Piglet meanwhile was going wild with happiness and Azriel was forced to pick him up and allow him to snuggle to him. He gave the dog a kiss on the head and that seemed to calm the pug down. “I have a present for you, my baby mate,” Azriel whispered, Mor seemingly forgotten.

“Look!” Azriel waved the Advent Calendar in front of Piglet, who tried to lunge at it.

“Azriel,” Elain said impatiently, “can you tell me what happened?”

Azriel walked to the living room and sat down on the sofa, Piglet by his side.

Elain watched them, and while she wanted to press for an answer, she remained quiet, enjoying the sight of the father and his fur son, getting way too thrilled over this Advent Calendar. Piglet was nosing into Azriel’s hands, grunting and whimpering excitedly, while Azriel was smiling such a genuinely happy smile, it ignited something pleasant, but confusing inside Elain’s chest. What was she going to do with this situation? How was she going to part these two, since they were clearly soulmates. If things didn’t work out between her and Azriel, the whole thing was going to be painful and extremely complicated. And what was she going to do with herself, if it didn’t work out? In the past two months, she came to think of herself as living her life with Azriel, with him at her side forever. He was so confident in the two of them, so sure that they were meant to be, she began believing it as well. She started fantasising about their life together, what they’d do, how they’d spend their days, his ridiculous, inappropriate jokes, him slapping her ass every time he passed her by, Piglet and Azriel having a whole separate, secret relationship between the two of them, Piglet waiting for him at the door every day, her accompanying him to some of the games…

Now, she wanted it. All of it. He presented her with the fantasy, and she expected it to come to pass, which was a dangerous thing to think or hope for.

“Okay, let’s see what’s on day one,” Azriel announced. “Come here, beautiful. This is a family party.”

Elain walked over and perched herself on the arm of the sofa, but of course, Azriel wouldn’t have it, so he reached out, his long body easily stretching the length of the sofa and his vise-like arm grabbed her around the hips, before he dragged her into his lap. Playfully slapping her arse, he gently kissed her neck and whispered into her throat, “this is where you belong”. Then suddenly, his scarred hand wrapped lightly around her throat and he turned her head and smiled, before kissing a specific spot on her neck.

His thumb rubbed over the spot and he muttered, “it’s healing already.”

Elain touched her neck and then remembered what he was referring to. The bruise that he sucked into her neck five nights ago was so prominent, she was forced to wear turtlenecks and scarves in front of her clients.

“Seems like I’d have to put one on you again,” he mentioned easily.

“Excuse me?!” she cried out, “no way! I am running out of turtlenecks! They aren't my style.”

“Don’t you have like a 10-strand pearl necklace,” he wondered, placing another kiss on her neck, “that you can cover it up with?”

“All my pearl necklaces have been passed down from generation to generation.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of anything else for you. Your good mate Mor informed me of your entire family history and was about to reveal your worth as well, before I stopped her.”

“What happened between the two of you!” Elain pulled away from him, her brows knitting with incomprehension.

At that, Piglet lost it and battered through the two bodies, trying to reach the Advent Calendar. He snapped and growled, having lost patience with all this talking!

“Sweetness,” Azriel drew his knuckles over Elain’s cheek, ignoring the rambunctious dog, “you are a good girl. You trust people and believe them to be good like you. Most, unfortunately, aren’t. Mor isn’t good. And that’s all you need to know. I don’t think that she deserves your services and your attention. Cut her loose.”

What Elain said next was unexpected. She didn’t press for any more information, but instead, lightly brushed her fingertips over his face and asked, “She didn’t hurt you, did she?”

“Naw, baby,” Azriel smiled at her. “The only person who can break my heart is you. But you are my girl, and you wouldn’t do that, would you?”

She shook her head stubbornly,

“No, I don’t wanna do that.”

“Well, that’s good then. That’s all that matters. Now, do the honours and let’s see what the first day of Advent brought our violent and impatient pug.”

Elain laughed and Azriel inhaled the sound of her voice, burying his face in her shoulder, as he banded his arms around her belly. Piglet was watching her puncture and open the little slat with her finger, his buggy eyes full of desperation and hunger, like this was his last meal on earth.

“Ahhh, look at this!” Elain made a show of removing some kind of dog biscuit shaped like a snowman from the calendar. She let him sniff it, and Piglet readily opened his mouth. As she popped half the biscuit in her mouth, she marvelled, “every day a new treat for you! Daddy is really spoiling you, isn’t he?”

At that, Azriel growled a deep, thick masculine growl in his chest and just like that, sunk his teeth into Elain’s neck.

“Oww!” she whimpered, but her dog didn’t come to her rescue, instead nosing into her hand for the rest of the biscuit. As far as he was concerned, Azriel could bite her to his heart’s delight and Piglet wasn’t gonna raise his paw.

“Daddy can spoil mama pretty good too,” Azriel whispered into her neck, biting and sucking on it like it was his favourite meal.

“Will you stop?!” she tried to get away from him, or at least elbow him in the gut, but he escaped her attacks easily, while gently nipping on her earlobe.

“You know,” she huffed, “I have a boyfriend!”

“Yeah, I know,” he nodded. “Me. I am the boyfriend.”

“Oh, but” she began, but Azriel gripped her chin and made her look at him. “You are mine,” he told her unequivocally. “I don't want you mentioning that red-headed prick, and especially calling him your boyfriend. Where is he then? Show me!” he demanded. “Because I sure am not seeing him taking care of you or of Pinky.”

“He doesn’t even like Piglet,” Elain muttered.

“What the fuck? And yet you are dating him?”

“Well,”

“You know, Elain,” he said seriously. “The greatest mistake one can make in their life is investing their time and efforts into things, while getting nothing in return.

“You’ve been with him, what? 3-4 years now? Essentially, you’ve been self-destructing yourself all this time, because this is not going to lead to anything and yet you’ve convinced yourself that he’ll finally come around and ‘make the move’,”

Bristling angrily, Elain attempted to pull away from him, but he held on tight.

“Who the hell do you think you are telling me about my relationship?!” she spat out. “I know what I am doing!!”

“Do you?” he challenged flatly. “The way you are refusing to put a tree in the house? “Cause it reminds you of how well you know what you are doing. And how absolutely nothing in your life’s gone the way you wanted it to. Also, when was the last time you got laid?”

Her cheek flared and she reared back, and he only had a second to intercept her open palm, which was flying towards his face.

“You are a bastard!” she sneered, yet tears glimmered in her eyes. “I shared something with you in confidence, and now you are throwing it back in my face!”

His expression was solemn, when he gathered her hands together and pressed them to his chest, “I am not a bastard,” he argued. “And I am sorry,”

“Sorry! What do you even have to say to me when you are the one who’s never been in a relationship! You are the one who needed to go to a matchmaker to find a woman to marry!”

Azriel sighed and reminded her, “In my defence, it was Cassian’s idea. Though I don’t regret it for a second, despite you being a massive pain in the arse,”

“Then get the hell out of here!” she told him. “If I am a spinster, who isn’t putting up a tree because she is lonely and alone, and who is a pain in the arse!”

“You are getting angry over the wrong things,” he said reasonably. “Why aren’t you raging at Eris? But are raging at me?”

She sniffled and to her horror, was unable to hold back the tears that were suffocating her.

“Because,” she mumbled, turning away from him, feeling embarrassed and all out of sorts, “because…”

“Because what?” he pressed her.

“Because,” and that came out as a full sob, “because…you are different! That’s why. And I trust you. You…” she couldn’t finish her sentence, as tears of anger and frustration poured out of her and she trembled on his lap, crying openly now. All Azriel did was wrap her in his arms and held her loosely to his chest.

“Shhh,” he whispered gently, kissing her head. “I am here. I won’t leave you,”

“Everyone else has,” she sobbed, snot and drool ending up on his nice shirt. “You will too. Because I am a stupid, ridiculous, fat weirdo.

“You will find yourself a beautiful, attractive, funny, fun woman, who’ll be thoroughly modern and not embarrassing. Eris always said that I embarrassed him with my idiot ways, with my pearls and my pug and…and…he was right, you know…” she smeared more snot on her face with her fist. “Even when I rang Cassian, he said that I was the ‘lady with the pug and the bows’. Because I am a freak,”

Azriel forcefully pulled her head back from his chest and looked at her.

“What do you want me to say?” he murmured, his face devastated at the sight of her. “That you are beautiful? Unique? Hilarious? Independent? Talented? Genuine? Wonderful?”

She was shaking her head ferociously, “I am none of those things, and we both know it! I am a thing to look at and make fun of, and hopefully marry off to someone who’d have me. But no one wants to have me…”

Piglet was whimpering sadly on her thigh, licking her hand, tears in his big round eyes. He didn’t understand what was going on, but his Elain was sad and he was going out of his mind with worry. Everything started off so well. Dad came over. He brought this great gift, and Elain was happy and Piglet ate his treat and everything was going splendid. And now, she was crying, and dad was sad, and Piglet didn’t even want anymore treats, if they were the reason this was now happening.

“I see what I see, Elain Archeron,” Azriel whispered to her, “and what I see is beautiful. All the oddities that you are berating yourself over are what makes you you. Without the pug and the necklaces and the bows you’d be a completely different person. And I don’t want a different person–you are what is attractive to me. It’s irrelevant what that cunt Eris told you and if I ever meet him, I’ll hand him his arse like nobody’s business. But before that, just dry your tears, woman. See what’s in front of you for a change.”

“I’ll find you someone incredible and you’ll be with her,” she argued clumsily.

Azriel pushed her hair back and said, “Yeah, you’ve been doing an excellent job so far! I don’t know how you are staying in business,”

“Shut up!” she mumbled.

He looked at her and smiled, “Is this what it’s like to have a girlfriend? Dealing with insults, emotional breakdowns, an ornery pet, who will always matter more than me, and putting out fires?”

“Ohmygot! Shut up!” she gasped. “That’s not how I am,”

“Ahhhh, so you do agree that you are my girlfriend?” he teased.

“Not even!

“Oh I think that you just did. And I’ll be the judge of how you are as a girlfriend,”

“I already know,” she hissed. “A disappointment and a pain in the arse!”

“A pain in the arse for sure,” he agreed readily. “Disappointment–you’ve never disappointed me in anything yet. In fact, you’ve exceeded my expectations in everything.”

“You are just saying that!”

“Are we gonna go get a Christmas tree?” he asked instead.

“Do you have a car?”

“I sent Dev home after my very memorable date with Lady Morrigan,”

Elain frowned and muttered,

“She is not technically a Lady,”

“A lady she is not,” he agreed, amused, “but why do you say so?”

“A Baron’s daughter is not a ‘Lady’. She doesn't have a title. She just likes using it.”

“Ohhh?” he cocked his brow at her. “The little claws come out,” and he took her hand and brought her fingers to his lips.

“I am just saying,” Elain shrugged. “Considering that she seemed to have done a lot of investigation into my background,”

“Oh, that she did! It wasn’t a date, it was a heraldic class, with high finance thrown in there for good measure.”

Through her tears, Elain couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Are you doing better?” he asked, wiping her tears away with his thumbs.

“No,” she blurted petulantly. “I dunno…”

“Okay, well, let’s take your car and go get the tree. Maybe that will cheer you up.”

“I don’t have a car,”

“You don’t?” he asked, surprised. “Why?”

“I don’t know how to drive,” she admitted.

“You don’t?” he repeated again. “Why?”

“I live in London. Why do I need to drive?”

“Maybe then you wouldn’t have to lug your portly pug every time he doesn’t want to walk.”

Piglet gave Azriel a side glance, somehow knowing that they were discussing him.

“Well, I don’t know how to and I don’t have a car. So unless you want to call Dev back and put a tree in your Bentley, or you want us to take the bus, we can’t get it. So maybe this is the universe telling me that I can’t have a tree this year…”

Seeing how tears were threatening to gather again, Azriel quickly said, “Nonsense. We’ll figure something out. We’ll have a tree this year. Got it?”

“If you say so,” she shrugged, not believing him. “I have to go wash my face and shower.”

“Want me to join you?” he asked immediately.

She rolled her eyes and slid off his lap. “No!”

“Why? I can wash your face. And other bits and bobs.”

“My bits and bobs are of no concern to you,” she threw over her shoulder.

“Oh no, baby. They are of GREAT concern to me. I’ve never been more concerned about anything before, if I am being honest.”

“I can’t deal with your come-ons,” Elain moaned.

“You will be naked and soaped up just above me in the next five minutes. What else do you want besides come-ons?”

Elain looked at him from her position and didn’t respond with a biting remark, because Azriel’s eyes were the most beautiful things she’d ever seen. They were like the English countryside in autumn–golder browns scattered amidst a sea of emerald green, flecked with dark shadows and golden sparkles. They were magical eyes, and he was a magical man and without a shade of doubt, Elain realised that this unusual man was…into her. It was a strange thought to consider, and it wasn’t the first time that she thought it, but for some reason right now, it became so crystal clear to her. Azriel Night, playboy, hellraiser on and off the field, ungodly handsome, scarred inside and out, so big he blocked out the sun, a man who could have any woman…wanted to have her.

Her company. Her opinions. Her laughter and her humour. Her interests. Her dog. Her body.

Azriel wanted it all from her and with her. Azriel never asked her to change–not one thing. Whatever she wore, however she acted, whatever she ate, however she wished to go about her day, or her life–he never objected to any of it. He just accepted her. All her idiosyncrasies didn’t seem to bother him at all.

“I’ll go,” she whispered stupidly, unable to tear her eyes away from him.

What the hell was this gorgeous man doing in her house? Loving her. Consoling her. Comforting her. Reassuring her. What did she do to have him end up here, with her?

“You sure you don’t need any help?” he winked at her, throwing his long arms over the back of the sofa, and smiling widely.

And for a second, Elain hesitated.

Her mind ran wild with possibilities. And she hasn’t had sex for so long. Ages. Literal ages. Maybe since the Middle Ages! That’s what it felt like. And she hasn’t had good sex…well, ever. The sex that she read about in books–where everything was shaking and squeezing and throbbing (So. Much. Throbbing.) and trembling, and there was screaming and moaning–she’d never had that. With anyone. With Eris, it’s been adequate, but always with the lights off, and 2 positions only. He didn’t do oral and didn’t expect it from her, so that was a relief (she supposed). She would’ve liked to do more things, be more passionate, have him respond to her with warmth and excitement, but that wasn’t in Eris’s character.

“What’s that pause for, matchy?” Azriel asked. “Thinking so hard, I can almost hear it.”

“I am not,”

“Come on, baby, if you want to jump my bones, you only have to say it.”

Wiping her brow, Elain turned on her heels and wordlessly made her way upstairs.

Once she stepped under the shower, she almost expired from mortification. Surely after her wild and unexpected breakdown, Azriel would pack up and leave. She acted like a complete nut. And why? Because what Azriel said cut her so deep and so open with its honesty. Her life has been on pause for years now, and while she had hoped that Eris would be ‘the one’ it was becoming clearer every day that he wasn't going to be what she hoped he’d be. And what’s more, she knew that she’d be settling anyway. Not only was he not in any hurry to propose, but deep down, she didn't even want him to. She dreaded the thought of spending the rest of her days with Eris. It would be fine. It would be okay. But Elain didn’t want ‘fine’ or ‘okay’. Perhaps it was naive of her, but she wanted passion. She wanted excitement. She wanted all that throbbing. She wanted what her great-great-grandmother Elain had, when the Duke of Velaris fell in love with her. She wanted what Azriel could give her.

Gah! Why was she thinking of him, again?

But he could. He’d love her the way she dreamt of being loved, because he already cared for her and for Piglet more than Eris ever did. And Azriel would probably be monstrously good in bed. She didn’t even know exactly what it would entail, but she could feel it. She knew that Azriel knew how to give pleasure. And she’d be taken places she never even imagined if she was with him.

When she was alone tonight, she might just have to do some serious self-servicing. Because this man was driving her completely nuts. Also she’d have to apologise to him and maybe send him a fruit basket or something, if he even wanted to hear from her ever again. Because she behaved like a loon tonight, and it wouldn’t surprise her if he began pulling away. Why would this fine, calm, clear-headed man need someone who fell into complete hysterics in front of him and word-vomited every single insecurity she had.

Elain took a long shower, enjoying the scalding water and letting her mind settle. She didn’t even know why she was feeling so insecure, and so fragile. Was it the most extreme manifestation of her utmost relief over his failed date with Mor? Elain hated to think of herself as being so petty, but she needed to be honest with herself too. Mor frightened the bejeezus out of her with her confidence, her striking beauty, her swagger, her…everything. Mor was everything that Elain wasn’t. And was Elain climbing the walls today, knowing that Azriel was going for a drink with Mor? Yes, yes she was.

Piglet was incredibly confused about what was happening, because Elain was so scattered, she fed him breakfast twice (he didn’t mind it), then she forgot to take him for his afternoon walk, so he had to run to her and make it known that he was about to crap on the floor, then she forgot to give him afternoon snack, she rudely woke him up from his naps, and needlessly dressed him in five different outfits back to back, ending up with none in the end. Also, there was no dinner today at all. Not at 6 pm. Not at 7 pm. Piglet ran to his bowl numerous times, checking on whether it was finally filled with something, and no dice. Nuthin’.

Elain got out of the shower thirty minutes later, and spent some time on her hair, before realising that she hadn’t eaten almost anything today and hadn’t fed Piglet. She froze, shocked with herself and her absent-mindness. She forgot to feed her dog, because she was spiralling in her head over Ariel’s date! Jesus.

She grabbed the first thing she saw–a t-shirt and a pair of worn out shorts–and ran downstairs only to be stopped in her tracks when she reached the first floor.

“…Listen, it’s not like I am against VAR. It’s needed. I get it,” Azriel’s deep voice, which Elain compared to ‘midnight silk’ in her head, though she had no idea what that even meant, filled the space with gorgeous masculine presence. God she loved that voice. She loved that he was here.

He was here! He didn’t leave!

“But it just kills so many good goals. Like, goals that could go down in history, you know? Which I think is fucking bollocks,” he continued.

Elain quietly stepped onto the carpeted floor and tiptoed to the lounge.

There he was.

Sprawled on the sofa, his suit jacket off, the sleeves of his button down rolled up, exposing his muscular, spectacular forearms, Azriel was watching a football game, while Piglet lay on his thigh, watching and listening with great interest.

“I get it if it’s offside, but VAR literally measures millimetres of grass. And I think it’s bullshit. Like how are we even supposed to consider pre-VAR goals now? Maybe half of them don’t even count? Ergh…”

Bark-bark. Waaawaya-wahha.

“See, you get it!” Azriel decided.

Elain smiled. And then she fought back tears of happiness, watching the two of them together. She was so unbelievably weepy, she had no idea as to what was happening with her. So, against her better judgement, she sidled over to the sofa and then planted a long, deep kiss on the back of Azriel’s neck. She couldn’t resist. He pulled her like a magnet, and Elain couldn’t find one thing about him that she didn’t find appealing or attractive. And yes, she wanted to kiss him. In every place and in every way. But for now, she settled on just this easy, playful kiss.

“Whoa, beautiful!” he laughed, catching the back of her own neck and holding her in an awkward position, half draped over the back of the sofa, “good shower? You are in a better mood!”

“You stayed,” she murmured and wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders, nestling her face into the space between the two.

“Where am I gonna go?” he shrugged, like it was so obvious. “Of course I stayed, because I am not going back to Canary Wharf from here!”

“I’ve never been to your flat, by the way,” she told him, while he stroked her arms.

“No you haven’t,” he agreed. “But I have some ideas about that.”

“Ohh?”

“More to come.”

“Always with the secrets!”

“I am a secretive bloke, what can I say?” Azriel smiled at her and then said, “come here, and sit with your men, while we wait for pizza.”

“Pizza?!”

God, pizza sounded amazing right now!

“I didn’t have dinner, and it seems like neither did Pinky, because I gave him some turkey from the fridge and I thought he was gonna take off my arm.”

Elain chuckled and skirted the sofa, sitting down. Azriel smacked his lips and immediately made himself comfortable, arranging her against the cushions in a semi-seated position, and laying his head on her belly.

“Love the shorts,” he complimented her.

“Even these shorts?”

“Any shorts,” he gently drew his knuckles from her knee down her leg, before nudging her leg closer and kissing the inside of her knee. Elain softly sucked in her breath and he smiled.

“Here,” he handed her a beer bottle, while taking a sip of his own.

“Is this how life with you would be? You lounging on the sofa, watching footie, doing nothing,” she asked, taking a grateful swig of the lager.

“Yeah, pretty much,” he confirmed. “I’d be porking you as well though. Don’t forget the porking.”

“Oh yes, how can I?”

Azriel lay in the darkness of the bedroom, in silence. Well, silence was a relative term, because the door was slightly ajar and he could hear Pinky’s robust snoring even from here. Pink had a very active and loud sleeping patterns, where he snored, whimpered, gasped, licked his face so loudly it sounded like slapping, grunted, groaned and exclaimed with excitement. It was a cornucopia of sounds. And it made Azriel smile.

Azriel wouldn’t have minded falling asleep himself, but he was somehow too excited.

He was in Elain’s bedroom after all. Not what he expected exactly–it was luxurious, but lacked in pinks and gauze. The walls were a calming, if unexpected, maroon-burgundy colour, the bed was incredibly comfortable, the furnishings were in line with the age of the house, though modernised. Of course there was a whole marble fireplace here–7th, per Azriel’s latest count–where they lit a fire, which glimmered softly now.

Elain's bedroom, where the magic doesn't happen

After the pizza was delivered (two pizzas, to be precise, because Azriel ordered a child’s size plain pizza for Pinky, though the pug wasn’t aware of that), they ate, drank a bottle of white wine, Pink went into what amounted a food coma, collapsing in the middle of the room with a satisfied gurgle. Azriel noticed that after cheese, sausage and dough, as well as alcohol, his girl was feeling much better too. He was guessing that she was PMSing, but he wasn’t foolish enough to suggest that.

Elain had fallen asleep in his lap, while he was watching replays of recent games on the telly through his phone. What he loved about Elain–in addition to many other things–was that she never moaned about football. She knew that this was his career, a huge part of his life, in addition to being something that he genuinely loved, and therefore, she never whinged about him being preoccupied by the games. He was totally okay discussing things related to football with Pinky. When it was time for bed, he turned the television off and then picked Elain up in his arms. She woke up and looked up at him, adorably confused.

“Sleep, beautiful,” he murmured to her, pressing her close to his chest. She was soft and warm, and he probably shouldn't have been lifting, let alone carrying a grown woman up the stairs, considering the state of his leg, but he was prone to making illogical decisions when it came to Elain.

“You are here,” she muttered.

“I am here. And I am taking you to your bedroom,” he told her. “And,” he quickly warned, “if you fucking mention any kind of boyfriend who is not me, I will fuck you within an inch of your life!”

Elain pouted, but wrapped her arms around his neck and groused,

“You know, you can’t threaten me with fucking!”

“No?” he asked, amused.

“No! It’s not fair. Also, it’s not really a threat, you know…” she concluded.

At that, Azriel snorted a laugh,

“You want me to fuck you then?”

“No comment,” she turned her head away from him and he laughed out loud.

“No, no. I would like for you to comment. In great detail too. Don’t be shy.”

“Hard pass.”

He laughed again, and then pushed the bedroom door open with his foot, barging into the bedroom like he was about to unleash on her.

“Neanderthal,” she muttered under her breath.

“Sure am, baby. So…this is where the magic doesn’t happen, huh?”

“Yeah it does happen!” she argued.

“Self-help doesn’t count,” he parried before dumping her onto the bed.

“It’s not…” she began saying, but quickly fell silent.

Then he looked around and whistled softly, “This is nice. I can get used to this!”

“Well, don’t!” she scowled at him.

“Oh, I think I will. This is a very nice bedroom. Well done, matchy!”

“However did I survive without your approval,” she rolled her eyes. “You can go to your bedroom now,” she pointed to the door.

Azriel pursed his lips and shook his head.

“Once I am inside, you ain’t getting rid of me that easily. I am sleeping here.”

“No. Way!” she tried.

Instead of responding, Azriel began to slowly unbutton his shirt, effectively shutting her up.

It was so easy. This girl went all pink-faced and pant-y and wide-eyed from zero to one hundred in about a second, as soon as she got a glimpse of man flesh. Not to be immodest of anything, but his man flesh was pretty nice. He might have been afflicted with a slew of other insecurities, but when it came to his body, he was rather conceited, knowing that it was a work of art.

“You can’t just do…this,” she waved her hand, “every time you want to get something…”

“No? You mean you don’t want me to use sex to get you to do stuff?”

“No!”

Well, lo and behold, now, Azriel was in Elain’s bed, though she childishly kept to her side of the bed, acting like they were at a sleepaway camp or something. Azriel was amused by her antics, but he was going to help her settle and wait until she was deep asleep, before parking her sweet ass right by his cock.

He closed his eyes and threw his arm back, sinking deeper into the comfortable bed. Suddenly, Elain’s phone lit up and vibrated on her nightstand.

Azriel frowned, wondering who the hell would be messaging her at almost 1 a.m. Could be a wrong number, of course, but he glanced at the phone and saw ‘Eris’. He didn’t even have time to consider his next move, when he reached across Elain and snatched the phone. Turning on his side, to block the light from the screen and not wake her, he looked at the message.

Eris: Care to explain this?

There was an attachment with the message–that of the Daily Mail headline, and the photo of Azriel carrying Elain.

Shit.

Azriel typed, trying to adopt Elain’s way of speaking.

“Elain”: There is not much to explain

Eris: Really? Who is this mongrel, carrying you around?

Mongrel?

Azriel’s been called many things, but this was a first. It was so funny, he couldn’t even get mad.

“Elain”: Mongrel? I am not sure if it’s prudent for you to call my clients ‘mongrels’

Oh yeah, this was good. This was very Elain!

Eris: Your client? That’s what you stooped down to with your clientele? Footballers?? I should’ve guessed, though I thought you had more class than that.

“Elain”: What’s wrong with footballers?

Eris: Do you know that I received a call from Morrigan today? She was hysterical!

Morrigan? What the fuck did Mor have anything to do with this? Azriel was confused at the turn of events. He was ready to defend Elain being carried bridal style on London’s streets, but that didn’t seem to be Eris’s main concern.

Eris: I can’t believe that you opted to set her up with this…specimen!! Are you out of your mind? She is a Lady! He is some bastard, no-name footballer!

Oh, fuck no!

“Elain”: Technically, Morrigan isn’t a Lady. She is a baron’s daughter.

Oh yeah! Throwing Elain’s words back at Eris. Azriel was enjoying himself. So he wrote:

“Elain”: And if we are talking titles, Azriel is the nephew of Lord Darling, as in Duke Darling, and Rhysand Darling’s first cousin. Don’t you play polo with him?

This tidbit of info Azriel picked up from Rhys just days ago.

And then it came to him–Morrigan and Vincent Eris Autumn were engaged at some point. That’s why the connection sounded familiar. These nobles were so incestuous, it blew Azriel’s mind. And he was the mongrel?

Eris: Being related to Rhys doesn’t give this Azriel any more credibility. He is still a mongrel from a council estate. And you dared to set him up with Morrigan, and then he GHOSTED HER!!! Do you even understand what happened there?!!? That POS ghosted Mor! He just left her at the bar.

“Elain”: I am sure he had a good reason for that.

Eris: Good reason?!?! What possible good reason could it have been?

“Elain”: Why was she telling you all this anyway? She reached out to you, but not to me? I am the matchmaker.

Because this bloke seemed entirely too concerned about Morrigan, and not so much about Elain. And that made Azriel curious. So he picked up his own phone and quickly texted Rhys.

Rhys: This better be good.

Azriel: Why? You busy in the middle of the night?

Rhys: I am entertaining.

Azriel: Oh, forgive me brother. Why did you pick up then?”

Rhys: Wondering if you needed bail money or something. I never know with you.

Azriel: Nah, baby bro. I am an upstanding member of society now. With a woman and a dog. My wild days are behind me.

Rhys: Just like that?

Azriel: Just like that. Once you meet your woman, the one that was created especially for you and who fulfils your every dream and desire, you don’t need to look anymore.

Rhys: My. God. Who are you? Is this a prank text? Azriel, blink once if you’ve been kidnapped!!!!!

Azriel laughed quietly at that.

Azriel: No. My girl kidnapped my heart, but otherwise, all is well.

Rhys: I am going to vomit. Please stop.

Azriel: There was an actual reason for my message. What happened between Eris Autumn and Mor Hewn? Why did they break up the engagement?

Rhys: You serious?

Azriel: Just tell me and then you can go back to your entertaining.

Rhys: As far as I remember, she cheated on him with a footballer. Cassius something…

Azriel: Cassius…Cassius Syphon? From Luton Town?

Rhys: Yeah, I think it was him. Rumour has it that she was pregnant and had an abortion. I don’t know if it’s true, and whose baby it was. But that’s why they broke up.

Azriel: Okay, thanks. I don’t think that they ever broke up in Eris’s mind.

Rhys: Oh darling. You’ll have to spill!

Azriel: It’s convoluted. Thanks. Have a good night. Don’t forget to wrap it up.

Rhys: Oh, brother. I never do.

When Azriel glanced back at Elain’s phone, there were a slew of messages.

Eris: Elain! Elain! Where are you?

Elain!

Do not be petulant! Mor and I have a vast history and you know that.

Elain! You are being childish and immature.

Elain, you know Morrigan is a friend.

Sure she is. Azriel rolled his eyes and then typed:

“Elain”: Sorry, Piglet woke up and I needed to check on him.

Eris: Oh, naturally you’d run to your idiotic dog when we are in the middle of an important conversation. Your dog obsession needs to stop!!

“Elain”: Well, I’ll consider it when we are married.

And that caused a lengthy, LENGTHY pause in this ‘important conversation’.

Azriel giggled nastily.

At last, Eris typed back:

This isn’t the time to discuss this.

“Elain”: It seems like it never is.

Another lengthy pause.

Then Azriel wrote:

Eris, why did you wake me up in the middle of the night? Were you really concerned about me and the article in the Mail, considering that it’s weeks old now? Or was it because Morrigan ran to you to cry into your lapel?

Eris: I only now was made aware of the article!

“Elain”: And yet, here we are discussing Mor for most of the conversation.

Eris: Is this a jealousy thing?

“Elain”: No. More of a curiosity thing. Wondering why you’d be so alarmed about Morrigan’s bad date, and not as much about seeing a photo of me being carried by a man?

Eris: So it is a jealousy thing. Don’t be daft. You and I are quite together.

“Elain”: Are we?

Eris: I don’t have time for this right now. Do me a favour, and don’t set this Azriel up with anyone of value anymore. Better yet, remove him from your list of clients. I am sure he can find some slag in the men’s loo to marry.

Wow.

Well, Eris was a cunt.

“Elain”: I’ll take it under consideration.

With that, Azriel hung up. Then he went into the contacts, and blocked Eris’s number on Elain’s phone. He then deleted the entire conversation, went onto her Insta and blocked him there too, and lastly quietly returned the phone to her nightstand.

There was not going to be any more of this ‘I have a boyfriend’ bullshit anymore. It was time to kick this dating thing up a notch, and close the deal. And he had some ideas brewing in his head about all that.

At that moment, Elain’s arm fell towards him and she blindly searched for him across the bed. He smiled and instantly felt better. So he reached, thankfully his long, strong arms perfect for the task, and looped his hand over and under Elain’s thigh. Did his hand brush over the damp warmth of her pussy? Well, yes, yes it did and he liked it. He pulled Elain closer, yanking her to himself, until she was almost on top of him. He pushed this thigh between hers, so she landed right on it and that made her open her eyes groggily.

“What are you doing?” she murmured.

“Just getting my favourite weighted blanket on top of me,” he said. Elain’s arm fell over his chest, and she tucked her face into his neck.

“And if you need to ride my thigh,” he added, banding his arms around then, “you go ahead, pretty girl.”

“Ohhh, you and your sex talk,” she sighed.

“Well, sweetness, if I am getting on your nerves with my sex talk, I’ll tell you what,”

“What?”

“A clit has 8,000 nerves. I want to make sure that I get to every one of them.”

“Ohmygod.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart. Sleep.”

Dev arrived early in the morning. Elain was still asleep, when she heard the doorbell ring. She heard Ariel get up rather early, and she felt him place a juicy kiss on her ass cheek, which jolted her quite a bit, but then he laughed and sashayed to the bathroom. At that moment, Piglet squeezed into the bedroom and promptly followed Azriel, which made Elain laugh.

…Yeah, nothing feels as good first thing in the morning is when you are taking your morning piss and someone stares earnestly into your eyes

…Seriously? You are just going to stand there?

Bark.

…And watch me shower?

Growl.

…Any privacy? No. Apparently not.

With a smile on her lips, listening to Azriel’s grumbling, Elain fell back asleep. Well, he wanted a dog. Having a dog like Piglet, meant never having a moment of privacy, unless Piglet allowed it.

Azriel was making coffee downstairs, music playing on his phone, while Piglet sat on his ass like a weird baby and wiggled to the beat, bobbing his head and all.

That’s how Dev found him, jamming to the tunes, unconcerned. Clearly because Azriel was here, Piglet trusted the process.

“‘Mornin’ you mega posh pug Piglet!” Dev greeted him, smiling. “Look at you and your cute pyjamas!” When his eyes travelled to Azriel, he noted, “Well, you are makin’ yourself right at home here, mate. Aren’t you?”

He handed Azriel a couple of bags, and Azriel found a pair of sweats inside, which he fished out and then pulled on with a satisfied sigh.

“Fucking finally! Now, yeah. I’d say I am settled in,” he agreed.

“Does the missus know you’ve all but moved in?” Dev chuckled, while Piglet circled him, and then beckoned him to follow. As was the case with everyone. Dev immediately began babbling in a baby voice, “what do you want to show me, good boy? What do you have for me?” and walked behind Piglet, who was wearing his onesie with yellow ducks on it. Azriel walked after Dev, holding Piglet’s ‘baby’.

Piglet led them to a huntboard, where his new Advent Calendar stood, and nodded to it pointedly, indicating that now was a good time for treat of the day.

“Ohhh, you like your Advent Calendar!” Dev understood, scratching Piglet’s neck.

“We can’t open it,” Azriel said, “not until mama wakes up. She has to be here.”

“Mama, is it?” Dev chuckled.

“Yes, we do this as a family,” Azriel confirmed seriously.

“Oh boy…Ball and chained yourself just like that, huh?”

“With pleasure,” Azriel nodded.

“Never thought it’d take someone like Miss Elain to tame you,” Dev was shaking his head with incomprehension.

“Didn’t take very long either.”

“No. Not at all.”

Their conversation was interrupted by Piglet, who was suffering from the disappointment of not having his treat. So he zoomed on Azriel, glaring at him and looking at Azriel holding the ‘baby’. Suddenly, with a threatening growl he lunged and tore the toy out of Azriel’s hand, tossed it away and then stood up on his one hind leg and looked up.

“Whoa!” Dev laughed. “Look at the attitude on him.”

Azriel compliantly scooped Piglet into his arms and kissed him.

“Yeah…” he drawled. “It’s mostly about him. Sometimes about Elain and him. But mostly about him. If he is not getting attention, we are all in trouble.”

Dev looked at his lifelong friend and really didn’t know what to think. But whatever was happening between Az and his lady love, was making the broody footballer wildly happy.

“Sorry little matey, my fault. I love you.” Azriel stroked Piglet’s back.

…”Baby! Wake up,” Azriel barged into the bedroom, Piglet hanging limply in the circle of his arm. “It’s 8 am!”

“Ugh, already? Why?” Elain whined.

“If you don’t want to get up, that’s fine by me. I can just fuck you,” he proposed.

“I don’t really understand the logic of this tradeoff,” Elain noted dryly, but then Azriel dumped Piglet onto the bed and it became a whirlwind of hugs and kisses.

“Did you know that Pink likes rock-n-roll?” Azriel queried, plopping down in an armchair and stretching his long legs in front of him.

“Obviously,” he exclaimed indignantly. “He is my son!”

“Oh yeah…He was rocking to Who Do You Love,”

“George Thoroughgood?” Elain asked quickly, stroking Piglet’s head.

“Yeah…He IS your son, I guess,” Azriel laughed. “He was bumpin’ and grinding.”

“Oh yes. He is all about that.”

She sat up and asked, “Who was at the door? And why didn’t you call me?”

“That was Dev. Delivering some clothes for me,” Azriel explained, making a wide gesture down his body, showing her his t-shirt and his sweats.

“So…yeah, he brought a bag,”

“Is that so?” Elain raised her brow at him. “Are you moving in?”

“Funny how he asked me the same,” Azriel snapped his fingers.

“Hilarious,” she deadpanned.

“Listen, get your arse ready and we are gonna go do couple shit!”

“Oh wow. Be still my beating heart,” Elain dramatically pressed her hands to her chest. “Couple shit. You really know how to sell it.”

“Yeah, I am an expert.”

“Do tell, what kind of ‘couple shit’ we are doing?”

“We are getting brekkie first, and then we’ll see.”

He got up, but before he left the room, Elain said quietly, licking her lower lip, “about the other thing…”

He turned his head and gave her a quizzical look.

“What thing?” he asked.

“The other thing,” she repeated. “The one…you know…”

“No, I don’t. Why are you speaking in riddles?”

“The thing you want to do with me. To me.”

“Sex?” it finally dawned on him. He gawked at her like she grew a horn.

“Yeah,” she confirmed lamely.

“What about it, beautiful? Don’t keep me in suspense here!”

“Well, maybe I want it,” she finally managed to whisper.

Azriel made a move to drop his joggers and Elain screamed, “No!!!! NOT NOW!!!”

He burst out laughing and shook his head like a dog, “scared you, huh?!”

“You are a damn nutter!” she huffed.

Crossing his arms on his chest, he asked then, “Okay, so what’s our timeline on the sex then?”

“I dunno.”

“Okay, my timeline is very flexible,” he assured her quickly. “Like…any day. Any time.”

“Oh, I am very shocked!”

“You should be. I am hard to get. Kind of a big deal, if you know what I mean.”

“Very…very big deal,” she agreed.

“Hey matchy, you ought to know that after we have our couple breakfast, I have to go and shoot an advert! You got yourself a proper celebrity boyfriend.”

Azriel spent a good twenty minutes chasing after Pinky, trying to dress him. While Elain was showering and dressing, he was running after a very portly three-legged pug, who had short legs to boot, but who perfected his evasion techniques like he was trained with SAS. At last, Azriel resorted to trickery, and ambushed Pinky by throwing a towel over him, blinding and tripping him for a few seconds, which allowed him to swarm and grab him. In retaliation, he dressed Pink in the most ridiculous outfit he could find–some knit cream dungarees, and a pink hat with two fluffy things (Azriel wasn’t sure what they were called). Problem was that not only did the pug make it work, but when Elain came down, she was in cream jeans, a pink jumper, and then she put on a cute pink jacket and a beanie with one fluffy thing on top. God dammit. Pinky always won.

“Beautiful,” Azriel whispered, taking her by the hand, “you make my dick hard and my heart soft. You are my perfect little girl.”

Azriel just threw on a jacket that Dev brought with him and pulled a flat cap on, attempting to avoid scrutiny. He already knew that the pug would be attracting a ton of attention, because no matter where they went, in any location, someone always pointed and cried out ‘look it’s a pug!’

Piglet, in his ugly outfit

Elain readily threaded her fingers with his, and it made him smile.

“Is this couple shit?” she asked, as they walked down the street.

“Totally. Love couple shit. Love this little hand in mine!” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.

Piglet was leading them, walking confidently, like he knew where he was going. Elain took Azriel’s by the elbow like a proper lady and he commented,

“We look interesting together.”

“How’s so?”

“I look like Death. And you…” he looked her over and then decided, “you look like a lovely fawn.”

“Death and the lovely fawn,” she repeated. “Good. I like it.”

Elain led them further away from the British Museum, towards University College London where there were fewer tourists and since many students were away for the winter break, it was quiet around here as well.

She ducked into an unassuming but historic building and they entered a spacious, well-lit eatery. Piglet immediately made the beeline to the bar, and stood up on his hind leg, waiting.

“Piglet! It’s you, mate!” the barman greeted her like they were old friends. “Hey Miss Elain, good morning to you!”

“Morning Archie!”

“You having breakfast?”

“Yes, please.”

“Sit yourself down, and we’ll get you sorted. Okay to give Piglet a treat?”

“Sure. Why do you think he is at the bar?”

While Azriel and Elain found a table, seemed like half the attendees were snapping photos of Piglet, who was being fed crisps over the bar. A cook and a couple of waitresses came out and gave Piglet hugs, while one offered him a biscuit, and the other, filled a tea cup with whipped cream.

“Remind me to come back as Pinky in my next life,” Azriel said, watching the spectacle.

“You and me both,” Elain said.

“No, baby,” he shook his head, “every life, you’ll be coming back as my wife. Sorry not sorry.”

Elain blushed at his words and the expression of unflinching desire on his face, and quiet admiration in his eyes.

“I love how everyone knows you,” he commented. “I love how you are part of the neighbourhood and you are woven into the fabric of this life, of this part of London. Like your grandmother. And great-grandmother. And the ones before that…It’s unique and beautiful.”

And it seemed to Elain that Azriel wished to be part of this life as well. What he wasn’t saying with words, he was conveying with his eager words, the eyes that were darting around the place.

“This place has been around since 1902,” Elain explained. “My great-great-grandmother Elain had two servants…maids, who worked for the Duke of Velaris. They were twins–Nuala and Cerridwen,”

“Nuala, like the Nuala I went out with?”

“Yep. Same name. Anyway, for their service and at my gran’s insistence, the Duke bought this house for them–they opened this canteen and it’s been in operation ever since. Used to service all the domestics who worked around here. Men who delivered coal, sellers, cooks–the working class. Nuala lived upstairs with her husband and their four children. Cerridwen lived across the street, in that house,” she pointed towards the window, “with her husband who was the Duke’s personal valet, Balthazar. They also had four children. And the canteen has been in their families ever since. The barman, Archie, and his sister Prue–they are like me, the sixth generation of those who lived or served at the Duke’s household.

“So yes, in a way, we’ve been woven into the fabric of this town, of this neighbourhood for over 125 years. It’s important for me to preserve these threads. They are what makes London the unique city that it is. I love it. I could never leave here.”

“Hey Miss Elain,” a woman, who Azriel assumed was Prue, came over to their table. “How are you? Thanks for popping in. Who is your lad?” and she levelled Azriel with an assessing gaze. Then she frowned, a look of recognition slowly, but surely spilling over her features.

“Azriel Night then?” she asked.

Azriel nodded.

“Well, now, welcome then Mr. Arsenal himself. We here support Tottenham of course,” she added firmly.

“I would imagine,” Azriel nodded, seeing that they were literally a block away from Tottenham Road.

“So, what’s the story with you two? Did I spy you two walking hand in hand?” Prue tapped a pencil on her order book.

“I’ll have a full English,” Azriel told her. “What do you want, beautiful?”

The waitress kept looking between the two of them, waiting for the answer.

“I’ll have the same, and coffee. We are...Mr. Night is my…”

Both Azriel and Prue peered at Elain so hard, it was like they were trying to set her on fire with her gazes.

“Miss Elain!” Archie called from the bar. “I’ll take Piglet to the kitchen!”

“He might never leave!” Elain answered and everyone in the restaurant laughed.

“It’s alright. We’ll keep him then! We have chicken and rice soup for lunch.”

Azriel recalled how Piglet roared like a bear over chicken and rice previously, so he said, “Bye Piglet. It’s been nice knowing you! Don’t forget to write.”

“Azriel is my boyfriend,” Elain suddenly announced, all in one breath.

Azriel exhaled loudly and muttered, “finally!”

Prue threw him a bemused glance and asked, “What, you weren’t sure?”

Elain smiled. She placed a hand on his and stroked it.

“Sorry Miss Elain,” Prue said, “and this might not be my place to say it, but I am glad that you got yourself a proper fella, and not that Lord Autumn. He wouldn’t even step inside this place let alone eat here.”

“Sorry Prue,” Elain blushed at the words. “But we are in a new place now.”

“It’s about time!” came the stern answer.

Once the waitress left them, and went back to cooing over Piglet, saying how much she loved his outfit and therefore, making Azriel die a little bit internally, he mentioned,

“No one likes your ginger lord, it seems like.”

“They don't like you either, because you play for Arsenal.”

“I can live with that. At least I was called a ‘proper fella’.”

Once they got their drinks, Azriel gave Elain a look that had her rolling her eyes and muttering, “What? What now?”

“Oh nothing…” he answered breezily.

“Right…”

“So, I am your boyfriend, huh?”

“Seems like it. You keep sleeping in my bed,” she reminded him, while sipping her coffee.

“Yeah, true. Though I feel like there is one, rather big and important part missing in the boyfriend experience.”

“Hmmm…How would you know? You’ve never been a boyfriend before,” she reminded him.

And Azriel grinned, thinking that this girl blew his mind all the damn time.

“May I have your phone?” Azriel asked then, extending his hand.

“Why?”

“Your phone, madame. If you will.”

“Ugh,” she handed him the phone. “No dick pics.”

“You could use a dick pic or two,” he told her, but then promised, “no, I’m not running to the loo to snap a couple for you.”

He messed with something for a few moments and then gave it back. She eyed it suspiciously but didn’t find anything new.

Azriel followed all this finagling with a text. It came on Elain’s phone under Sexy Boyfriend Azriel as in the new contact, replacing the previous Mr. Azriel Night.

“I’ll be monitoring this, darlin’, to make sure you don’t change it back,” he warned. “The fuck you are keeping me under Mr. Azriel Night for? I sound like your dentist.”

The breakfast was absolutely delicious. Azriel wasn’t surprised that the place has been in business for 120 years. If they served food like this, they deserved another 400 years in business.

At some point, Archie came out, cradling Piglet to his chest.

“Ummm, he fell asleep,” he chuckled.

“Oh my god, how much chicken and rice did he eat?!” Elain gasped. Azriel was laughing. Piglet looked like he was in a food coma.

“Not as much as you’d think, but enough.”

…The crisis struck when they finished breakfast, Azriel paid and Piglet finally woke up, looking groggy. Azriel glanced at his watch and saw that it was almost 11 am. He did have a photo shoot to get to, and while he didn’t want to leave Elain, he needed to get going.

Elain got up from her chair, reaching for her jacket that hang on the back of chair, and Azriel immediately hissed,

“Sit down!”

Alarmed, she turned to him, and then followed his gaze, which was planted on her ass. Before she could make a snarky comment about him staring at her butt, she noticed a huge blood stain spread all over her light jeans and the chair.

How…

What?

How did she not notice?!!?

“Oh my god,” she gasped, horrified.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he assured her quickly. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?!?!”

“It’s just period blood,” Azriel tried lamely, knowing that he wasn’t coming up with decent comforting words.

She collapsed back in the chair, and they both knew that she just made it worse, probably smearing even more blood on her jeans and at this point, destroying the chair entirely. Not only that, there was a squelching sound that accompanied her move.

“Oh Jesus…” she moaned pathetically, tears gathering in her eyes.

Azriel understood.

Elain was a proper lady, and this wasn’t something that she could just ‘rock’ or brush off. Elain wasn’t going to ‘own it’. She was a modest, decorous, reserved, pearl-wearing noble Lady. An actual noble lady. And it didn’t escape his notice that on her mantle, Elain had a photo of herself, in some kind of heavy velvet robe edged with silver, a diamond and sapphire tiara, with her sisters dressed in a similar manner, at the coronation of the king. Azriel understood perfectly well that in many ways, he was way out of her league, but he also understood that her upbringing and her position limited her.

He considered things quickly, got up and told her, “sit here. Don’t cry.”

She sat, unmoving, while he went and sought out Prue. Quickly explaining the situation, he handed her 200 quid for the chair and her promise to remove the chair as soon as they left. When he returned to the table, he handed Elain his jacket.

“What are you doing?” she gasped, while he zipped her up. The jacket was long enough to cover her bottom half down to mid thigh. “You’ll freeze to death!”

Azriel shrugged, “Sweetness, I run around the pitch for 90 minutes in December under pouring rain. I’ll be alright. Let’s go.”

“I can’t! Azriel. It’s December. You are wearing a long-sleeve shirt.”

“Ahhh,” he smiled, “but I have a secret weapon!” He picked up Pinky from the floor and pressed him to his chest. “This is a chubby, warm furnace of my own. Portable too.”

Elain smiled weakly, stroking Piglet’s head, and then Azriel’s face.

“Thank you. Are you sure?”

“I am,” he assured her. She wrapped her scarf around his neck and then went outside.

It was brisk.

Azriel fought the urge to shiver, but he knew that she’d freak out if he did. Truth be told, the dog did provide a decent amount of heat.

“I am sorry,” she whispered.

“Why? Ellie, I deal with various menstruation crises every other week. I am quite adept,”

“What? How?” she looked at him.

“I train 10-12 year old girls. We have someone bleeding out, forgetting their pads or tampons, not knowing what to do, crying, running away on the reg. So this is really sort of normal for me. The number of times I had to ring their parents, sometimes getting the dads, who are even more confused than their daughters about what to do…Those are funny conversations.

“Dev frequently does pad and tampon runs, so we can keep them in the locker room. It’s really quite cute, actually.”

Elain looked up at Azriel. He was walking next to her, barely dressed, carrying her dog. He did it all only for one reason–her comfort. Whether it was her losing her cool yesterday, crying and spilling her guts to him, or her bleeding out today, it seemed that nothing could shake this man. He was a mountain. A pillar of complete trust and support. One who stood by her no matter what. One who had her back, and never asked for anything in return.

And it was then, in that moment of absolute clarity, that Elain realised that she was in love.

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel and elain #pro elriel #elain x azriel #elain #acotar #elriel fanfic #my writing #A Match Baked In Heaven #new chapter #azriel #fic update #my fanfiction #Elriel fanfiction

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em-prentiss · 3 months

Text

the way that you glow

-----

Hotch kisses Emily’s forehead and it finally dawns on Spencer. Because while he might go as far as taking her into his arms and rocking her lightly, Spencer knows there’s no platonic explanation for a kiss on the forehead.

Spencer closes his eyes and welcomes the darkness, feeling a strange happiness in his chest for his friends despite Emily’s current struggle. It makes sense, Hotch and Emily; so much so that now he sees it he’s surprised it didn’t happen sooner.

Or, 5 times a member of the team found out about hotchniss, and the one time Aaron and Emily admitted it.

-----

73 days ago

“Shit.”

“What?” Aaron asks as Emily stands in front of her side of his closet, one hand on her hip and the other held to her mouth.

She starts flipping through her clothes frantically, messing them up after Aaron had neatly folded them for her.

“Something missing?” He stands next to her and surveys the mess. Emily groans. “I don’t have a shirt to wear.”

She chews on her lip and glares at the offending clothes, as if she could force a shirt to materialize between them. “This is all your fault,” she grumbles, “if you hadn’t torn off half of them I’d still have something to wear.”

Aaron hides his smile, well aware that it wouldn’t be appreciated at this time. He wraps his arms around her and brings her into his chest, feeling her involuntarily melt into him. “I never once heard you complaining,” he kisses her temple. “In fact, you encouraged me multiple times.”

“Not helping,” she sighs. “What do I do? I can’t stop by my apartment, I’ll be late. And my boss is a hardass,” she gives him a pointed look over her shoulder.

Aaron laughs. “I have it on good authority you’re his favorite.”

She ignores him. “The team will obviously tell if I wore yesterday’s shirt.” Emily shakes her head at their negligence of the laundry, leaving it to pile up until she has nothing to wear. Aaron, she notices grumpily, has plenty.

Aaron looks down at the shirt she’s wearing—one of his—and an idea pops into his head. “You could wear one of mine,” he suggests.

Emily laughs and turns around in his arms. “Yeah right, like that isn’t noticeable,” she rolls her eyes and tugs at the one on her body, reaching halfway down her thighs.

“I’m serious,” Aaron insists and moves to take out a shirt of his own, a greenish blue one she always said brought out his eyes.

“Just roll up the sleeves and tuck it in, it won’t be that bad.”

Emily considers it for a second before she grabs the shirt with a sigh. “Not like I’ve got an abundance of options.”

She does as he suggested and tucks it in, letting him help her roll the excessively long sleeves. Emily looks in the mirror and sighs, adjusting her suit jacket over the shirt.

Aaron creeps up behind her, pristine in his own suit. “You look gorgeous.” He kisses her cheek.

Emily stifles her smile. “You’re doing the laundry when we get home.”

He can’t keep his eyes off her the whole day, the sight of her so casually in his shirt distracting him from his work. She’s left the top two buttons undone, almost indecently low because of how large the shirt is, exposing a generous amount of skin that drives him crazy.

It seems JJ has taken the same interest to Emily’s shirt. “What?” Emily asks when she catches her staring for the third time.

JJ shakes her head, “Nothing.” But she continues staring at her, taking in her thick rolled up sleeves and the way it seems to hang baggily on her frame despite being tucked in.

The seams extend way past her shoulders and it finally dawns on JJ. She knows well and good how a man’s shirt looks on a woman’s body, and Emily had never been one to wear oversized clothes.

That explains why she’s been brushing her off lately whenever JJ brought up the idea of dating, waving her away with an eye roll and a secretive smile. Interesting, JJ thinks.

“Actually, where’d you get that shirt?” JJ smiles, a glint in her eyes that makes Emily freeze.

Aaron’s eyes flick to her and he smirks to himself as she stutters, her mouth opening and closing as she tries to come up with an answer.

“I’m not sure,” she stammers uncharacteristically, the realization that she was wearing Aaron’s shirt at work suddenly hitting her full in the face, making her cheeks flush. “I got it a long time ago.” She smiles tightly at JJ.

JJ arches her brow, unconvinced, but she lets it go. She eyes her friend the whole day, wondering why the shirt seemed so familiar despite its size. She’s in Penelope’s office having lunch, her eyes skipping over the pictures on her desk when she sees it.

It’s a picture of them at Dave’s, one of her favorites; they’re gathered in the kitchen, Emily and Penelope sitting on the counter while Dave tilts the pan in his hand to the camera, his mouth open as he indulges them with his cooking secrets. Hotch stands with Morgan and Reid, his eyes on something over Dave’s shoulder. JJ clocks in the shirt he’s wearing and barely holds in a gasp.

It’s a greenish blue, rolled up to his forearms, the material hugging his shoulders perfectly. JJ could swear on her paycheck it’s the exact shirt Emily was wearing now. She suddenly remembers him wearing it at another team dinner as well, just a few weeks ago.

She hurries out of Garcia’s office, the picture fresh in her mind, and stops abruptly when she sees Hotch and Emily exiting a storage room, Emily’s shirt untucked from the back, her cheeks flushed. Hotch’s hair is fluffier than it was, his tie ever so slightly crooked. JJ’s mouth drops open when he reaches over to tuck the shirt back in and fix Emily’s collar, his lips turned up in a smile. She doesn’t think she imagines the way his fingers linger on her skin.

They walk away further down the deserted hallway as JJ stands, still in shock.

Morgan

51 days ago

Emily hums as Aaron’s hands drift lower, the steam of the shower thick in her lungs. He kisses her neck, his fingers slipping on her skin, stopping abruptly when they hear his phone ring through the door.

Emily throws her head back on his shoulder and groans, Aaron’s sigh echoing in her ear as the phone continues ringing obnoxiously.

“One morning,” he mutters, and despite it all Emily smiles at the way it gets under his skin too. “Just one.”

She yelps when he spins her abruptly and presses her against the wall. Emily shivers against the tiles, the ringing of the phone still audible through the door, and feels her breath hitch as Aaron crowds against her.

He nips at her wet skin, his hand gently forcing her legs apart. “What about the phone?” She breathes, sliding her hand into his hair and gripping it.

“Fuck that.” His voice is a deep rumble in her ears, something she feels in her skin, right against her neck. The phone finally stops and he looks up at her, a glint in his eye. “We’re not leaving here until I’m done with you.”

Emily shivers despite the heat and smiles. “Trust me, I’m not complaining.”

****

“This fucking sucks,” Emily grumbles as she runs her comb through her hair one last time, the dripping wet strands staining her suit jacket. “I hate going into work with wet hair.” She grimaces.

Aaron checks his watch and blows out a breath. “We have to go, sweetheart.”

She turns to him impatiently. “You go, I’ll head out in a few. We can’t arrive there at the same time, anyway,” she reaches for a towel to dry her sopping hair. “Besides, I can be late. The boss can’t.” Her lips twitch despite her annoyance.

“Not too late,” he warns as he picks up his briefcase. “You won’t have time to dry it before the jet leaves,” he says, familiar with her routine.

Emily rolls her eyes, “Yeah and who’s fault is that?” She crosses her arms and gives him a pointed look.

“Hey,” Aaron says mildly. “You were a willing participant,” he pokes her stomach.

She bats away his hand, choking on her laugh. “Yeah, well, I’m regretting my cooperation.” She turns back to the mirror to clip on her earrings.

Aaron smiles and leans in to kiss her cheek, “I’ll see you there.”

“Bye,” she calls out. She holds her hair up with both her hands and grimaces at the wetness on her shoulders; she’ll need to change her jacket. Emily sighs and curses the serial killers of America, curses her job and curses her handsy boyfriend as well as her inability to say no to him all the way to work.

She’s late enough that everyone is already in the jet by the time she walks in, though her hair is still painfully wet. “Sorry I’m late,” she apologizes and plops into the empty seat next to Aaron.

“It’s alright, Dave walked in just a minute before you did,” JJ smirks, exchanging a knowing look with Emily.

“She didn’t need to know that,” the man in question grumbles.

Morgan looks up from his file. “Getting some much needed beauty sleep, princess?” He grins at Emily.

“Of course,” Emily replies easily, smiling at him. “You know I like to look good for you, Derek.” She bats her lashes, her voice sickeningly sweet.

He shakes his head and laughs, about to throw another retort at her when Aaron speaks up. “Let’s review the case.”

They discuss it for a while, briefly working out victimology and throwing ideas back and forth before they lapse back into silence, nothing to do until they land.

Morgan looks up at the hushed voices of Hotch and Emily. Their heads are bent together as they look down at their files, their bodies unusually close. The distance doesn’t seem to bother either of them, he notices, despite Hotch’s obvious dislike for unnecessary physical touch. Morgan’s gaze travels up from their connected elbows to the soft smile on Emily’s face and the slight indent of a dimple in Hotch’s cheek—clearly no longer discussing the case—eventually going to rest on their hair, catching the light.

Morgan pauses at this. Emily’s hair is clearly wet, curling on her shoulders and slightly longer than it usually is. He looks back at Hotch, who’s hair is also damp, the strands glossy and dark, curling around his ears.

He suddenly sits upright and surveys them more closely. Both of them coming in with their hair the same level of wet, talking to each other in hushed tones, their elbows touching and Hotch smiling? In all his years at the BAU Morgan has never seen Hotch crack a smile, except with Haley or Rossi. He didn’t even know the man had a goddamn dimple before today. Could they be..?

But they came in separately, he reminds himself. And much as he wanted to believe his own theory, it wasn’t unusual at all for two people to shower before work. He has to find some way to get them to slip. Maybe if he could get them drun—

“Morgan.”

His gaze snaps up to his boss, who’s looking at him curiously, along with the rest of the team. Morgan gets the sense that he’d been talking for a while. He clears his throat, “Yes?”

“You and Prentiss visit the crime scene, I’ll interview the parents and the rest of you work on victimology and geo profiles.”

It’s drafty at the crime scene, the wind throwing Emily’s cold hair against her neck and making her shiver. Morgan stands close enough to smell her strawberry shampoo, the wind blowing her hair practically into his own face.

“Didn’t take you for a strawberry kind of girl, princess,” he teases as they’re walking away, the wind sending another gust of strawberry scented hair towards him.

“Well excuse me for not wanting to smell like cedar and sandalwood,” she drawls as she climbs into the car. “I get enough of that from you.” She flashes him a smile.

“Hey, hold on, I’ve always wanted to know this. Do you use shampoo or do you—”

“Alright, very funny,” he deadpans as he pulls out of his parking spot. Emily laughs and turns to look at him. “Well do you? It’s a very valid question.” She reasons.

“Yes,” he glares at her, regretting bringing up the topic to begin with.

Emily nods solemnly. He expects another question but she stays quiet and he basks in it. Unfortunately she doesn’t stay that way for long. “How about conditioner?”

Morgan laughs despite himself. “Fuck you, Prentiss,” he says easily, his smile widening when she chuckles. “How about you go bald yourself and get all the answers you’re looking for?”

“No, that won’t work. I need to maintain my luscious mane, otherwise how else would I get all the ladies and gents?” She winks at him.

Morgan shakes his head, another laugh escaping him as Emily looks down at her phone, texting someone and smiling. He eyes her curiously before turning his gaze back to the road.

He doesn’t expect it, but he accidentally proves his theory later that day.

“It was an organized crime scene,” he says when they get back to the precinct. “No prints, no bullet or casing. Speaks to an experienced unsub.” He tells Hotch, who nods.

He moves past Morgan to get to the whiteboard, saying something as he taps the pictures on it. Morgan isn’t listening. He’s rooted to his spot in surprise, the faint scent of strawberries lingering after Hotch.

His mouth drops open. No damn way. He searches for Emily, thinking he somehow may have confused them, but she’s standing on the other side of the room, arms crossed as she looks over Reid’s shoulder.

Morgan almost bursts out laughing at the thought of his stony, stoic Unit Chief washing his hair with strawberry shampoo. Emily must have him whipped if she’s got him using strawberry shampoo.

“Morgan?” Hotch’s voice snaps him out of it. His brows are furrowed in annoyance at his lack of attention for the second time in as many hours. “You said there was no sign of the bullet or the casing, right?”

“Right,” Morgan nods, biting the inside of his cheek to hold in his laugh. He catches a whiff of it again when he has to lean over Hotch’s shoulder to grab a file from the desk in front of him. Morgan grins. Stupid idiots. The least Emily could do was dry her goddamn hair.

Reid

37 days ago

If there’s one thing Reid is good at, it’s finding patterns. Like how Garcia comes out of her office every two hours to pour herself a coffee, how JJ brings chocolate chip cookies with her on Fridays. And how Emily tenses whenever there’s turbulence on the plane, how Hotch’s eyes flick to her periodically when she does.

He brushes it off the first time it happens on a rocky flight to Chicago. He’s already memorized the case file in his hand so he tips his head back and rests it on the seat, the tremors of the plane vibrating through his bones.

In his line of sight is Emily, her lip between her teeth and her eyes fixed on something in her lap. Hotch, sitting next to her, looks up at the sound of her shaky breath when the plane rocks.

He frowns at her lap, something hidden there by the table, blocking Spencer’s view. “Hey, stop that,” he whispers. Spencer sees Hotch’s hand move into her lap—awfully comfortable, he notices.

Emily stills. “Sorry,” she says quietly and he shakes his head, brushing it off. “Try to get some sleep,” he tells her.

She scoffs at that, the sound turning into a choked yelp when the plane dips. She clutches Aaron’s hand tightly, a substitute for her own cuticles, and feels her body go tense.

“I fucking hate my job,” she grumbles shakily.

“I know.” Aaron soothes, squeezing her hand back and wrapping his fingers tightly around her own.

His hand stays there in hers, either unaware or uncaring of Spencer’s gaze right across from them. Aaron doubts he’ll be able to tell anyway. Morgan has his eyes closed and JJ is spread out on the couch, her back to them.

He hates that he can’t do more for Emily, but for now he has nothing to offer but this, and she takes it gratefully, though it doesn’t do much to soothe her nerves.

As is often said, twice is a coincidence. Which is what Spencer considers it when Hotch places a mug of tea in front of Emily minutes after the jet starts shaking. She’s sitting in the lone chair and Spencer’s on the couch, giving him a perfect view of the two of them.

He buries his head in his book when Hotch walks past him and back into his seat, digging into his go bag as Spencer pretends to read. He raises the book and peeks over it, for some reason drawn to his coworkers interactions.

Hotch walks back to Emily, a blanket thrown over his arm and something held tightly in his fist.

Spencer watches as his boss wraps the blanket around Emily, his touch gentle even from afar. She smiles up at him and accepts the pill he hands her, washing it down with the tea.

He squeezes her shoulder before settling back into his seat next to Morgan, unaware of Spencer looking at him curiously.

He knows that Emily is closer to Hotch than most of them, the two of them pairing together on cases and riding in the SUVs more often with each other than with other members of the team. But this is still unusual, Spencer muses to himself. Hotch cares about them, yes, but he wouldn’t go as far as holding one of their hands or wrapping a blanket around their shoulders to ease their anxiety. Emily seems to be an exception. Spencer files this information away for later, telling himself it’s just a coincidence.

But three times, that’s a pattern.

He doesn’t even mean to catch them this time—not that he ever did. He’s woken from his light sleep by a particularly shaky air bump, the plane trembling as he opens his eyes blearily. He can tell it’s late, the lights dimmed and Dave’s snores coming from right behind him.

Spencer shivers and adjusts the blanket around himself, stretching his body until his feet hit the armrest of the couch. He’s about to close his eyes when he sees movement across from him.

Emily is closest to him, letting out a quiet whimper he barely hears over the loud roar of the plane. Her hand is clenched tightly in a fist at her side, her chest heaving as she takes in deep breaths.

Hotch sets down the pen that was in his hands and brings her into his chest with no hesitation. His chin rests on her head as he tucks her into him and holds her tightly, his large hands rubbing up and down her back.

His mouth moves as he holds her close, murmuring words of reassurance Spencer can’t hear from this distance. He can see Emily holding on to him desperately, her back shuddering with each heaving breath she takes, the stuttering of her body similar to the way the jet shakes.

“Breathe, sweetheart.”

It’s the last thing he hears before he falls back into tumultuous sleep.

Rossi

1 day ago

Rossi would claim he knew of their relationship ages ago if you ask him, but there’s one particular scene that stands out in his head.

With the unsub in custody, Dave, Aaron, and Emily were left at the precinct, packing up their boxes and taking down the countless maps Reid had used.

Emily stifles the urge to roll her eyes when officer Evans approaches them—or more specifically, approaches Aaron.

“Need any help here?” She asks when they’re practically done, only a handful of files left to pack. After we finished? Emily holds in her scoff.

“No thanks, we’re good,” Emily gives her a fake smile, gritting her teeth when the officer gives her a once over glance before returning to Aaron.

“I just wanted to let you know how much we appreciate you coming down here, Agent Hotchner,” Evans places her hand on his arm, her nails digging into his skin through his jacket.

“We’re glad we could help.” Aaron smiles at her tightly, acutely aware of her hand on his arm and a conversation he’d had with Emily last night.

“She’s flirting with you!” Emily insists as she aggressively rubs off her makeup.

“She’s not,” Aaron says dismissively, his head buried in a file he’s memorized a thousand times over.

“Can I get you a coffee, Agent Hotchner? Please call me Katie. Are your rooms comfortable?” Emily mimics in a high pitched tone, disdain dripping from her words.

“And what the hell did she mean by that, anyway?” She spits out. “Was she going to offer us her own room? I’ll bet she would’ve been all too happy to give it to you,” she grumbles, throwing her dirty cotton pad into the trash.

Aaron closes the file and gets up from the bed, cautiously moving toward Emily as if she was going to attack him too. He hides his smile when she glares at him and pulls her fuming, heated body into his.

“Okay, she’s flirting with me,” he agrees, cupping her face and rubbing his thumbs over her flushed cheeks. “So what?”

Her mouth furiously drops open and he places both of his thumbs on her lips to keep her quiet. “I mean it doesn’t matter. She can flirt with me till tomorrow and I’ll still only have eyes for you, Em.”

Emily crosses her arms to stop herself from touching him, not wanting to give in to his sappy words too soon. “Go on,” she narrows her eyes.

Aaron laughs and kisses her forehead. “I love you, sweetheart. I don’t see anyone else. I never have and I never will, okay?”

She melts under his touch when he kisses her, his lips fierce against hers in an attempt to show her just how much she means to him. And it’s not like she doesn’t know already—God, she does. It frustrates her that she can’t do anything about it, that she just has to sit and watch as this random woman touched him every time she addressed him, batted her lashes and spoke to him with an overly sweet tone that she dropped whenever she talked to anyone else.

“You don’t ever have to worry about anyone else,” he tucks her hair behind her ear gently.

Emily sighs against his lips. “I know that, Aaron. It’s just not fair that she gets to touch you like that and I don’t.”

He holds his breath, finally hearing her admit to something he’d been thinking about for weeks. “How about we tell the team about us?” He asks, his heart racing in his chest, “that way we won’t have to hide it anymore.”

She immediately beams at him, all her anger gone as she clutches his shirt in her fists. “Really?”

Aaron smiles, the tightness in his chest easing. “Of course, Em,” he kisses her forehead. “You’re it for me, you know that. They’ll have to know at some point.”

“When this case is over?” She asks hopefully, her eyes bright. “When this case is over,” Aaron nods.

“I’d like to thank you personally, if you’d let me,” officer Evans inches closer and smiles at Aaron, taking no note of the other two agents in the room with them. “Maybe over coffee?”

Emily sees red. She breathes in deeply, placing the last of the files in a box and slamming the lid on it. Dave startles away from her, giving her a confused look she doesn’t notice. She sees Aaron backing away, removing his arm from Evans’ grip, and she smiles smugly despite her anger.

“Here.” Emily shoves the box into her hands, forcing her to break free from Aaron. “These are your copies of the case files as well as our notes. Maybe you could take a look at those next time you need help, hmm?” She smiles sweetly, her eyes deadly blank.

Evans is staring at her in shock, her mouth dropped open like a fish. “Uh—” she stammers, her cheeks flushing.

Emily picks up her jacket and turns to Aaron. “I’ll see you on the jet, Aaron.”

Aaron smirks and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “See you there, Emily.”

He watches her go and stifles a laugh at the bewildered look on Evans’ face. Aaron turns to Dave. “Can you handle the rest of these boxes? I have to talk to Detective Moore.”

“Sure,” Dave agrees.

Aaron leaves the room and makes his way to the detective’s office, smiling when he sees Emily a few paces in front of him. He rushes past her, making sure his palm ghosts over her lower back as he walks by and into the detective’s office.

He hears her light laugh as he enters the office and smiles.

Finally, Dave thinks as he eyes the interaction. He picks up the boxes and heads out too. “Nice working with you,” he calls out cheerfully to officer Evans, who’s still standing there, hands clutched around the box.

Penelope

0 days ago

He blows it before they get a chance to tell the team.

Aaron groans into Emily’s neck when the phone rings obnoxiously. He’s bone tired, the case they just came back from last night exhausting him. Emily is knocked out, not even stirring at the loud ringing of the phone.

He turns around and snatches the phone grumpily from the nightstand. This better be real fucking good. “Hotchner.” He says gruffly, his voice rough with sleep.

He’s met by silence. “Hello?” Aaron calls out, throwing a hand over his eyes to block the sun. Why hadn’t they closed the blinds last night?

“Um, sir, why are you answering Emily’s phone?”

His eyes fly open. Aaron takes the phone away from his ear and looks at the contact, ‘Penelope’ written on the screen with a pink heart next to it. He looks back at the nightstand and sees his own phone lying there. Aaron vaguely remembers Emily throwing down her phone on his nightstand and climbing over him to get to her side of the bed, too tired to walk all the way around. “Fucking shit.”

“Uh—” he stammers, looking next to him at Emily’s limp body, both her arms hugging her pillow as she sleeps soundly, her hair spilling down her back. “Emily had some trouble with her faucet, she needed me to come fix it.” He says, not even knowing what the hell just came out of his mouth.

“Trouble with her faucet?” Penelope questions. “Why would she call you, then? And why would you answer her phone?”

He can almost hear the click in her mind when she figures it out, and he most definitely hears it.

“Oh my god!” She shrieks in his ear. Aaron pulls the phone away from his ear and groans, almost feeling his eardrum burst. A loud stream of screams and incoherent words bursts from the phone and into the air. Emily jumps upright, her hair a wild mess, and looks at him frantically.

“What the hell is that?” She demands roughly, pressing her hand to her racing heart. Penelope is still yelling into the air, her words barely understandable from the way they slur together.

Aaron sighs. “I blew our cover.”

Emily takes the phone from him and ends the call, throwing it over the bed and hearing it thump on the floor. Aaron chuckles as she slumps into his chest, burying her face in his neck.

“You couldn’t wait till later today?” She yawns and snuggles deeper into him. Aaron adjusts the blanket back over them. “You know me, I can’t wait to show you off,” he slurs, already falling back asleep.

“Sap,” Emily mumbles, her eyes drifting shut too.

+1 (the one where they tell the team)

0 days ago

A minute later the alarm rings and they both groan.

Emily shuts it off with a grunt and falls back into Aaron. “You know, since we’re telling them today, we can be late,” she suggests, linking their fingers together. “Really cement the idea of us being a couple and all.”

Aaron hums. “I like the way you think.”

But in the end he drags her up at the ring of the next alarm, forcing her sleepy body into the shower while she curses at him.

He makes up for it by buying her a coffee on the way to work, effectively making them late and granting them their grand entrance into the BAU.

No one pays them any mind as they enter the bullpen, so Emily wraps an arm around Aaron and stuffs her hand into his pocket.

“Not very subtle, are you?” He smiles down at her.

Emily shrugs, her eyes sparkling. “I have no reason to be.”

They see the team already gathered in the conference room, Penelope visible next to the TV and flailing her arms widely. “I'm guessing she beat us to it,” Aaron deadpans.

Emily laughs, “Yeah, and how much do you think they’ll believe her? Let’s go prove it ourselves,” she winks at him.

The team’s voices spill out into the catwalk, the high pitch of Penelope’s excited voice and the low timbre of Morgan’s chuckle audible before they get to the open door. “Don’t tell me you just found out, baby girl.”

Emily and Aaron exchange a look at that. She removes her hand from his pocket and bursts into the room, making everyone’s gazes snap to her.

“Well hello,” Dave smiles smugly.

“What do you mean by that?” Emily demands, pointing her finger at Morgan. “Did you know too?”

She feels Aaron come stand beside her, much closer than he usually would.

Morgan grins at them. “I see you dried your hair today.” He comments. Emily touches her dry hair and looks to Aaron in confusion. He shrugs, equally bewildered. “We all knew, Emily.”

“How?” She looks at the team, a spluttered laugh escaping her. “Even Reid?” She arches her brow at the doctor, who protests loudly.

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

JJ pats his shoulder, “Today we all found out that we knew, and Pen was the last to join the group,” she says. “Though Rossi is a close second, no matter what he tells you.” She smiles wryly.

Aaron speaks up. “Well, we wanted to tell you today but since—”

“Are you guys gonna get married?” Penelope interrupts. Aaron’s mouth snaps closed. Their friends watch in astonishment as both Emily and Aaron are reduced to a blushing mess, their cheeks tinting pink as Emily stammers.

“Not relevant.” She finally says, glaring at Penelope.

“I’ll try to convince her,” Aaron clears his throat, the tips of his ears pink. Emily’s head snaps to his, her hair whipping into her face. Penelope and JJ’s squeals are muffled in her ears.

“You don’t need to convince me,” she whispers, a soft smile pulling on her lips, her dimple deep in her cheek. Aaron grabs her hand and kisses her forehead, not quite ready yet to kiss her properly in front of everyone, but he needs to expel the burning love in his chest in some way.

Emily beams at him and lets go of his hand to wrap it around his waist, tucking herself into his side. Morgan rolls his eyes at them and Emily points at him threateningly. “Careful there Morgan, I’m under the boss’s protection now.”

“You were under the boss’s protection a long time ago bella, but the two of you only noticed it now.” Dave says. “How did you two get together, anyway?”

“None of your business,” Emily says breezily and breaks free from Aaron to sit down at the table, smiling when he sits down next to her and places his palm on her thigh, hidden from view.

“That’s a story for another day,” Aaron says. “You all still have to finish your reports from yesterday’s case, I’ll be expecting them by the end of the day.” He looks at them sternly, trying to force the smirks off their faces.

“Except for Emily,” Morgan scrunches his face in annoyance and breathes out a long tortured sigh.

Emily laughs and pinches his cheek, “Aw, you jealous, Morgan? Maybe if you—”

“Especially Emily.” Aaron interrupts, causing both her and Morgan’s heads to snap to him in surprise.

“What?” Emily exclaims indignantly. “Aaron!”

“I’ll need yours by the afternoon, so I think it’s best if you come work in my office,” he smirks slightly. “Less distractions over there.”

Emily’s frown instantly turns to a knowing smile. “Ah. Of course,” she agrees. “Less distractions.” She bites her lip and tucks her hair behind her ear, winking at him not so subtly.

JJ laughs, the sound drowning out Penelope’s squeal and Morgan’s sigh.

“For fuck’s sake.”

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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