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lazyjellyfish300 · 2 months

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With New Eyes Every Time 🌊🪸🐚👁️

Miguel O'Hara x Reader S/O

Synopsis: Aquarium date with Miguel! 😄💕 Not much else to say. Word count 2.6k

A/N: inspired by my amazing moot @huniedeux ! Thank you for making a post about wanting to go to the aquarium and inspiring me in the process! 🥰 All thanks to you! 🫶🏽 Also really need to thank @hikaru-sama for being so patient and amazing at helping me with Spanish translations! 🖤🫶🏽 I owe you my life lol 😫

Crocodile facts I used came from: Royal Society Publishing and Wildlife Sydney AU (I kept getting confused on the crocodile embryo fact and the Royal Society Publishing ended up being the correct one in regards to that fact)

CW: ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP, A SMIDGE SUGGESTIVE SO MINORS DNI, BRIEF MOMENT OF GRIEF, OTHER THAN THAT JUST FLUFFY FLUFF. No mention of reader's gender.

"Well, actually, it's your turn to pick the date spot this time." Miguel hums as he gently blows on his oatmeal before taking a spoonful.

"Goddamn it...I'm so bad at choosing." You drum your nails against your coffee mug, the motion generating small tinkles of sound against the white porcelain.

Miguel smirks, "Thought since I'm a Libra, I'm the one who's supposed to be indecisive?"

"Doth mine ears decieve me?!" You clasp your hand to your chest, making a gasp of over exaggerated astonishment. "Astrology's #1 hater is reciting accurate lore of his own sign back to me?!"

Miguel shakes his head, blowing air out of his nose in amusement. "Nah, I'm still the number one hater." He winks. "Just proving to you that when you talk, I do listen. Even if I'm bad at responding."

"Bah." You wave your hand at him and sip your coffee, shifting your thoughts to where you'd like to go on your date with him this time. Truth is, Nueva York was huge. You hadn't been to all the restaurants and bars and every single spot just yet. You just had a few favorites that you kept on rotation.

Miguel, a man of routine and structure, didn't mind that one bit. Actually, there was a place you did really want to go to, you just hope he'll be okay with it since you were just there together for Valentine's.

"Perhaps..."

"Mhmm?" Miguel turns the page of his newspaper, doing his best to be responsive to you while getting caught up on yesterday's news.

"Don't be mad at me..."

"Mad at you?" Miguel's eyes flicker from the newsprint to yours. Scarlet spotlights on you.

"The aquarium." You say finally, your lips pull into a cheeky smile to indicate that you're well aware of your redundant choice but you don't care because you're dying to go anyway.

The corner of Miguel's mouth tugs a little into a half smile. "That's the spot, huh? You think I was going to be mad at you for choosing the aquarium again?"

You shrug. "Well, I do drag us there a lot. But it's so fun! I love seeing the fish and everything. You know me. I can't get enough of that stuff."

Miguel gives you a warm smile. "Well, the aquarium it is then. And believe me, that's farrr from one of my least favorite places we go. It's actually one of my favorites, too."

You echo his warmth, mixing it with some playfulness in your tone, "Oh yeah, I should've known, you love that under the sea, nerdy stuff too, huh?"

Miguel chuckles. "Guilty." He stands up, picking up his empty bowl. "Vamos, los peces esperan." (Let's go, the fish are waiting)

----

You can't help but smile giddily as you walk around the vast aquarium. It's dimly lit, and not very busy at this time, to both yours and Miguel's relief. The fact it was a Wednesday likely helped, since the rare occasion when Miguel's days off coincided with yours were quite sporadic and random.

First, you started with the reptiles. As you walked in the more brightly lit section, you peeled off your hoodie and tied it around your waist as the humidity of the exhibit started to get to you. Moisture hung in the air and the spattering sounds of water hitting rocks from the waterfall that stood tall in the middle of the exhibit created the illusion you were somewhere tropical, a welcome respite away from the March wind chill of Nueva York.

Frog croaks, monkey shrieks, and clicking and chattering of birds rustle in the exhibit, creating the ambiance of a rainforest. You look up at the large bird habitat in front of you, shielded by thin netting, groups of colorful birds hanging out in small clusters, rotating between perching and flying from one resting spot to another. A large smile breaks out on your face when your eyes land on a toucan perched on a twig garland hanging from the ceiling, busy cleaning his feathers.

"Babe look..." You say in a hushed voice. Miguel follows your gaze and his face breaks out into a smile as well, admiring the cute little bird as he ruffled and stroked his black feathers and puffed up his white bosom with pride.

Miguel nudges your side playfully with his hip. "He takes a long time to get ready, kind of like someone I know..."

You try to nudge him pitifully back in response, but Miguel stays anchored in place with a chuckle.

You move on to look at the geckos, lizards, snakes, and caimans as well. A baby crocodile sits with his belly dipped in a shallow pool of water, legs splayed out and mouth wide open, basking in the warmth emitted from the heat lamp at the top of his tank.

"He's SOOOO cute!" You gush, leaning your head just a little closer to the glass. Miguel looks away from the yellow poison dart frog exhibit and follows your squealing noises, putting his hands in his pockets as he stands next to you with a smirk.

"Not sure if cute is how I'd describe him..." Miguel tilts his head at the mini croc, its green eyes still unmoving. "He'll grow up to be an apex predator like his parents."

"Look at you, Mr. Wildlife." You look up at him, impressed. "What else do I not know about Kenny here?"

"Kenny?"

"That's his name, babe. It says so on the sign."

"Oh." Miguel laughs. "Well... crocodiles have three eyelids."

"Oh, you told me that one already, baby. What else?"

Miguel smiles and lists some more facts for you. You love it when he's like this. He was like a sponge, always absorbing knowledge that other people might have found boring or useless. He'd gladly tell you about it too, and he never ever made you feel silly or dumb for not knowing something.

"The sex of embryos in crocodiles is actually determined by the temperature at the time of incubation. So, Kenny here was probably incubated at a higher temperature which is more associated with producing males, whereas cooler temperatures are associated with producing females." Miguel points.

You click your tongue in admiration. "I learn something new every day. Let's hear one more."

Miguel purses his lips in thought for a moment, then says, "See those lumps and bumps on his back? Those are actually called, ‘scutes’. They actually enable them to be more stealthy in the water. They stop it from rippling."

Your eyebrows raise, your eyes still on Kenny and then they move to the tank beside him with the bigger crocs. "Whoa..." you nod. "Well, that proves my point earlier."

Miguel raises an eyebrow.

"Crocs have scutes. So they are s'cute!" You cross your arms triumphantly and head towards the ocean part of the aquarium.

Miguel thinks in his head that you probably wouldn't use that word for long if you knew how large crocodiles killed and ate their prey, but he doesn't argue. He smiles to himself and gives a curt nod in farewell to Kenny before he leaves to catch up to you.

----

Your eyes get big as you enter the room with jellyfish tanks. Soft blue and pink globs glide effortlessly in the water, sinking down slowly before using their tentacles to propel upwards, bobbing hypnotically in dizzying movements.

You and Miguel keep stealing glances at each other when the other isn't looking. You turn to look at him once more, the bioluminescence from the jellyfish mixed with the blacklights of the aquarium cast a soft glow on his features, the crimson in his eyes making him look just as ethereal as the beauty of the sea you're both gazing at. His full lips jut outwards subtly as he purses them in thought, his cheekbones sharp, framing that divine, sculpted face of his.

He looks at you, catching you staring at him this time. You take his hand, wrapping your other hand around his forearm to pull him closer to you. His head turns briefly for a moment, making sure you two are the only ones in the room before he leans down and gives you a soft kiss, that jittery feeling in your stomach when one of his hands cups the side of your throat, pressing you a little harder against his lips. Before you pull away, you add a lingering bite to his bottom lip, making him blush.

"Pórtate bien...." (Behave yourself) He murmurs, running his tongue along the slight puffiness on his bottom lip your teeth left behind, trying to calm the small flame you lit inside him.

Your mouth curls into a grin at the mini rise you got out of him, and you walk into a new area, marvelling at the saffron-colored coral and dainty seahorses.

Miguel moves to the other side of the exhibit where the largest tank resides with an assortment of fish swimming in and out of a large, fake shipwreck, but stops in his tracks when he sees the clownfish and regal tangs. A twinge of sadness pulls at his heart.

After watching the seahorse disappear behind a seaweed stalk, you turn and notice where Miguel is standing and your eyebrows knit in worry as you take long strides to come stand by his side, squeezing his hand.

He exhales at your touch and squeezes back in response, not needing to say anything because you can read him better than anyone. Sometimes this part could be rather hard for him. Clownfish and Regal Tangs were the species of Nemo and Dory.

Finding Nemo was Gabi's favorite movie.

You both watch the colorful fish in peaceful silence, darting in and out behind rocks, speeding up and slowing down, jolting and occasionally bumping into one another as they weave and glide through their underwater habitat around the large sunken ship.

Eventually, you pull Miguel gently by the hand leading him to one of the empty benches behind you. You sit and watch the fish together some more, enjoying the serenity of the buzzing undersea ecosystem before you, smiling when you see the comically large sea turtle next to all of his smaller fishy cohorts, dodging them and spinning like a rotisserie above your heads like it was second nature for him.

After a few more minutes, you turn to Miguel, "Well, last up is the shark exhibit." You try and brighten the mood a little, "That one's your favorite. You ready?"

Miguel turns and looks down at you, his arm still resting on the top of the bench behind you. His hand comes to give your shoulder a squeeze. "You sure? This one's your favorite. We can take our time."

You try to shake your head and play it off, "No, really I've seen it a hundred times, plus I think there's a new tank with stingrays or something..."

Miguel knows when you're trying to be too nice, a not uncommon behavior of yours. "We have all afternoon, really. I want to make sure you're having fun." He reassures you.

Your eyes melt as you sit back in your seat, indulging in staring at the fish for just a while longer like you wanted. Once you're satisfied, you let him know with a nod of your head and a squeeze of his hand and you two make your way to the escalators that run to the lower level, taking you to the shark exhibit.

As you do, you can't help but think about the times when you invited your friends and they practically rushed you through the whole experience, asking if there was anything new you could look at instead or passing up on going to the aquarium altogether, saying they've seen it all.

Miguel was one of the only people in your life who didn't make you feel bad for revisiting places you loved because it made you happy to re-experience it all over again. Hell, he was eager to and even expected an invite each time you did.

Source: Google search, from Las Vegas Magazine

You press your lips together in anticipation and your eyes go wide as if you're looking at it for the first time as you enter the large, underwater tunnel, dozens of sharks swimming in every direction, the shimmery reflection of the water and aqua light of the exhibit immersing you into a whole new world. It takes your breath away and you slow down, pausing in one spot right in the middle of the tunnel, losing yourself in the oceanic beauty above your head. It's one of those no camera moments, a time that requires silence, appreciation, and the person you love right next to you.

Miguel's watching you with sheer admiration, slightly envious even that something else could make you that speechless with adoration. He wants to make you feel that way all the time. It's memories like these with you that he's so glad he lowered the gates of his heart all that time ago. Never guessing when you crossed his path, it would lead to moments as blissful as these. The best part of the whole thing is that they won't end anytime soon. As long as you'd let him, he'd continue calling you all his. Could now be the time to make it permanent? Perhaps. No, you deserved something more planned out, something really special. He hadn't even gotten you that ring that you liked so much, sending not so subtle hints by texting him the link to it every so often while he was at work.

When he feels it's a good time, he approaches you from behind, touching the corner of your elbow, curious to know what's been on your mind. "¿En que piensas, mi alma?" (What are you thinking, my soul?)

You hum and turn around, following that low, mesmerizing voice of his, and you look up at him, the face of your lover looking down at you, warmth dominating his countenance that pulls you right in.

"Just thinking about how much I love coming here with you. You never make me feel bad for wanting to just take my time and see everything, you know? Even if it's my quadrillionth time seeing it. I just love the beach and the ocean, you know? It's like a brand new experience every time."

Miguel smiles down at you, then his eyes briefly wander, the group in front of you starts moving on so you two are left alone once again. He takes a deep breath and turns you back around so you're looking at the sea life once again, keeping his hands on your arms as he gives them a little love squeeze. "Kind of like how I see you, hmm?"

You chuckle, leaning backwards into him. His cologne enveloping you in that embrace that made your heart flutter and your knees grow weak every time. "What do you mean, Mig?"

"Con ojos nuevos cada vez." (With new eyes every time)

You close your eyes with your head against his chest and his arms wrapped around you for several moments. You bring your own hands up to his, sliding your fingers underneath his jacket sleeves in search of the warm skin of his forearms to which he softly exhales into your hair at the sensation.

You murmur to him, "Can we get smoothies on the way home?"

"Hmmm, you don't like my green smoothie recipe?" Miguel asks with a teasing grin.

"It had.. too much kale for my liking."

"Ouch."

"Sorry, baby."

"Ha, ha...well, I suppose we could. In that case we might as well get lunch. You need real food too, not just a smoothie. You're ready to go already?"

"Just a little longer?"

"Of course, sweetheart."

You smile and lean back into him once more, letting your bodies lean against each other in familiar, loving solitude as the sharks swim around you in the tunnel of the aquarium, white flashes of light shimmering against the glass every so often that the water hits the sunlight that's slowly begun to peek out from the afternoon skies above.

🌊🦈🐟🐠🐡💙

#miguel o'hara #miguel atsv #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel ohara fluff #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel ohara imagine #Spotify

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torstens55 · 1 year

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#gutenmorgen #goodmorning #naturelover #natur #nature #landschaft #landscape #tumblr #beautiful #travail #amazing #herbst #fall #autumn #mittwoch #wednesday #waterfall

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stars-and-birds · 1 year

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Happy new year guys have a self indulgent wenclair fic i wrote instead of sleeping :D

“Tonight’s the night.” Enid declared, slamming down her red plastic cup next to the table where Yoko sat, some odd mixture of orange juice and vodka sloshing at the impact. Yoko looked up, flashing lights dancing across her pale face and dark eyes.

“Tonight’s the night… you what?” She asked, twisting around in her chair to face a confident and possibly slightly drunk Enid.

“The night I tell her. Wednesday” She replied breezily, plopping down into the chair next to Yoko. It was New Year’s eve, and Xavier Thorpe was throwing a huge party at his house. Well, ‘house’ was a stretch. More like a mansion. Enid had gotten lost at least five times (and stumbled upon three couples making out) on her way to the main room, where a disco ball flashed almost as loudly as the blasting music. Alcohol and drunk teenagers splashed across the room, dancing and cheering. Half of Nevermore had to be there.

“I’ll take her aside and confess. I’m telling her I like her.” Enid said confidently. She’d played the scenario over and over in her head, she wouldn’t be surprised if it had seared itself onto her brain. For months now she’d been worrying, trying to find some way to tell Wednesday she had feelings for her. Two very different possibilities played like a broken record in her brain, looping over and over. Number one, Wednesday harshly rejects her with a cold glare and their friendship breaks apart, Enid moves in with Yoko, and they never talk to or see each other ever again. This was bad. Worst case scenario. Scenario two, and the unfortunately less likely one, however… included holding hands, dates, kisses…

“Earth to Enid. Testing testing one two three.” Yoko said, snapping Enid out of a daydream that had spread a huge smile on her face.

“What?”

“Can I tell you what I think will happen?” Yoko asked, snatching up Enid’s drink like a cat and taking a sip.

“What?” Enid said again, somewhat irritated.

“You’ll work up some nerve and then chicken out like a little bitch. Like at the Christmas party. Or the Halloween one. Or even— ”

“Yeah okay I get it.” Enid interrupted. “But this time will be different! New year, new me.”

“Technically it’s not the new year yet.” Yoko pointed out as her girlfriend, Divina, stumbled up and sat next to Yoko too, leaning her head on her shoulder. Enid rolled her eyes.

“Whatever. Oh, there she is!” She said excitedly, spotting Wednesday’s goth aesthetic sticking out like a sore thumb. Her signature braids hung behind her head, nearly blending into her midnight black dress that spilled over her shoulders like a waterfall. The light caught her face for a second, flashing her black eyes so bright Enid could see it from across the room. Enid’s heart beat a little faster.

I’msogayi’msogayi’msogay

Enid took a deep breath, smoothing the colorful jumpsuit that she had slipped into for the night.

“WEDNESDAY HI!!!!” Enid yelled, making her way through the crowd and raising her voice over the music rattling her feet. Wednesday turned to face her, her face softening a little at the sight of Enid wiggling her way through the horde of sweat and vodka breath.

“OMG you look great!” Enid squealed, clasping her hands together as she finally reached Wednesday and Thing, perched like a bird on her shoulder, signing hello at Enid.

“You look…” Wednesday glanced Enid up and down like a cat stalking her prey, silently judging. “Revolting.”

“Thanks… I guess.” Enid gulped a little, a lump of nerves sliding down her throat.

Okay Sinclair. Stay cool. Just act normal.

“SO! Wednesday, I wanted to talk to you.” Wednesday’s eyebrows creeped up her forehead.

“You are.” She deadpanned.

“I know! I know, I just… about something specific.”

A beat.

“About…”

“YEah! About… um…” God, why was this so hard? Just get it out there.

“Do you… I… um. Do you want a drink?” She blurted out. Ugh. Nice going Sinclair.

Wednesday’s eyebrows raised a little higher. “I suppose.” She conceded.

“Great! I’ll go get you one.” Enid scrambled off into the crowd. Ugh. Of course Yoko was right, of course her nerves had overpowered her and she’d chickened out. No. It wasn’t too late. She’d get the drinks, come back, confess… and no matter what happened, hope it would quel the raging storm that thundered in her chest whenever Wednesday looked at her. It was a storm, yes. But it was also a flower that had slowly grown, unknown to Enid at first. A flower that glowed when Wednesday complimented her, that bloomed when they touched. A flower that Enid had unknowingly nurtured until she’d found herself with a flower bigger than she’d ever imagined. She reached the refreshments table, grabbing two plastic cups and scooping some punch in, contemplating the situation. Of fucking course she had to fall in love with Wednesday fucking Addams of all people. Wednesday with her deadpan drawl, cold glares, beautiful eyes… Something sticky and wet hit her hand, and she looked down to see that she’d overfilled the cup she was holding. Ugh.

Five minutes later she’d successfully partly cleaned up the mess, and was making her way through the crowd again, this time precariously balancing two glasses of punch. Okay. Okay. Okay okay okay okay. She got this. She’d walk up to Wednesday, tell her she liked her and then… heartbreak or kisses. Probably heartbreak, she thought bitterly.

“Okay Wednesday,” Here we go. “I got your drink, I…” she trailed off. Her heart plummeted into her stomach. There, right where she had left her, Wednesday stood in front of Xavier. The boy was holding roses. Black roses. Black roses that Wednesday’s hands were closed around, hands that dropped to Wednesday’s side at the sight of Enid standing there.

Oh.

The punch cups clattered to the floor, but all noise was muted in Enid’s ears.

Something new bloomed in Enid’s chest. Not bloomed. Withered. Withered and stung, dead branches prickling her heart, closing in and suffocating it. The feeling slowly creeped up her chest, closing up her throat, thorns stinging her eyes. Tears, hot and wet and gross and—

“Enid.” Wednesday’s voice. Her voice, which had soothed Enid’s nightmares and comforted her through her pain. Her voice that cut through Enid’s thoughts, that shocked her out of her trance.

“I… I'm sorry. Sorry. I… I have to go, I—” Enid’s words tripped and stumbled over themselves, not quite finding footing and forming complete sentences. It didn’t matter, as something else drove Enid’s legs away. Away from the shocked boy with the roses and the stunned girl who had stolen her heart. Away, away, away. Away down the confusing endless halls, which seemed to close in on her every second. Away and into the nearest door, away and stumbling into the closet and bumping into the brooms and mops and falling to the floor, sobbing. Tears soaked her thoughts, blurred common sense. Why was she crying? It’s not as if… it’s not as if she ever expected to get together with Wednesday. She didn’t expect a fairy tale ending, so why did it feel like she’d been cheated out of it? Had she read too far into the brushes of hands and passing glances that she’d feebly convinced herself she didn’t think meant anything more? Her heart felt like it’d been ripped out of her chest, tossed aside carelessly. Why did it feel like she’d handed Wednesday her heart, fragile and on edge from all the times it had been broken and dropped. Why did it feel like Wednesday had taken it from her and set it aside, doomed to inevitably fall again. Why did it feel so wrong?

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, just her and her broken heart. Stupid stupid stupid. Her mom’s voice stained her thoughts. She had no reason to be upset. She was overreacting, being overdramatic. Afterall, Wednesday didn’t know about Enid’s feelings for her. It wasn’t fair to Wednesday. And maybe, Wednesday did know and just… hadn’t cared. Decided Enid wasn’t good enough. It wouldn't be the first time Wednesday had tossed aside someone’s feelings for her own benefit. It wouldn’t be the first time Enid was abandoned for being not good enough. A shadow from behind the door tore away the flashing lights that had crept through, cracking open the door slowly. Enid kept her head in her arms, sniffling. The shadow —whoever it was — carefully set itself down next to Enid, brushing against her in the small closet.

“Enid.” Enid would recognize that voice anywhere. Even through her usual bored tone, Wednesday still managed to sound… caring.

“Enid, I need you to talk to me.” A pause, a mini void filled only by more sniffling from Enid.

“Why are you upset?” Her voice wasn’t demanding or accusing. Only curious. Like her voice that first night on the roof, when she had asked why Enid was crying. She’d said because she was upset. Maybe Wednesday understood that now, that crying meant that Enid wasn’t okay, that she needed comfort. Enid let the silence hang for a few more moments, trying to collect her stray thoughts and fish out an excuse.

“I… just. Sorry. Must’ve had too much to drink, haha.” Enid hated the way her voice sounded, weak and scrawny like a newborn chick.

“I can’t help if you’re lying to me.” Wednesday stated so matter-of-factly, turning to face Enid. Her eyes were so beautiful, a betraying part of her brain couldn’t help notice.“Is this about Xavier?” She continued. “Do you… like him?” Her eyes were like milky black pearls. Or a void staring endlessly back at Enid… wait. Wait what.

“What? No!” Enid wrinkled her nose. Even the thought of getting together with that… emo wannabe made her want to gag.

“Then what’s wrong?” Enid looked away again, resting her head in her arms.

Click

She looked up, startled. The closet door had slammed shut, and she scrambled to her feet, jiggling the door handle. It was locked. Wednesday had stood up too, pushing Enid aside to try it herself.

“Thing, if you do not open this door I will flay you alive.” She said, tone so sharp you could use it to slit someone's throat. No sound from the other side of the door, save for the soft clicks of manicured fingers padding off.

“Thing!” Wednesday growled. Enid shoved her back aside, trying to channel some werewolf strength to open up the door. Wednesday pushed her back, and soon they were shoving each other back and forth in the tiny closet.

“Enid, stop moving.”

“Give me some space!”

“Stop moving!”

Enid froze, eyes barely registering anything in the total darkness. A moment later, a light clicked on. Wednesday had found a lightbulb, and the cord to turn it on along with it. Speaking of Wednesday… after a moment of adjusting to the light Enid noticed.. They were very close. A tangle of limbs, they’d somehow ended up eye-to-eye, barely a foot between their faces.

Oh god

Enid could feel herself turning red, her cheeks flushing as Wednesday mumbled something about Thing never seeing the light of day again. She looked… really hot. Which was a very weird thing to think about the sweaty girl with a death glare you were trapped in a closet with, so she was going to stop thinking about it along with the ever growing urge to kiss Wednesday Friday Addams.

“I was jealous!” Enid blurted out. She wasn’t sure where it came from. Maybe she was tired of hiding it. Wednesday was looking at her, dumbfounded.

“…What?”

“I was jealous.” Enid continued, squeezing her eyes shut so she wouldn’t have to see the disgust that would inevitably flush the other girl’s face. “I was jealous of Xavier. Because I know he likes you and you like him and I…” She trailed off, bowing her head as more tears stung her eyes. “And I like you.” The words hung heavy in the air, a long held secret finally released.

“You like me?” Wednesday’s voice was a whisper, a ghost. But Enid heard it. Liked her? She more than liked her, really.

“I—”

“TEN!”

Enid was cut off by a chorus of voices from outside the closet. She pulled up her apple watch. 11:59. The countdown to new years had begun.

“NINE!”

“Enid, listen.” Wednesday's voice rang out urgent and clear.

“EIGHT!”

“It’s okay, I get it. You don’t like me back.” It was hard to keep the spite from creeping into her voice.

“SEVEN!”

“No, I… I don’t like Xavier. We’re not a thing. I rejected him”

“SIX!”

For a moment, Enid’s voice was stolen from her.

Wednesday didn’t like Xavier.

“FIVE!”

“But… I don’t understand. The flowers…” Something cold creeped up Enid’s face. Wednesday. Wednesday’s hands cupped her cheeks.

“FOUR!”

The space between them had gotten smaller, the air a kind of heavy that made Enid’s chest seize up around her heart and catch her breath.

“THREE!”

“I don’t like Xavier. I like you.” Wednesday said softly, so close that Enid could feel her warm breath mingling with Enid’s own.

“TWO!”

“Me? But… I don’t understand.” Enid’s voice was shaky, trembling. A million things were going on within her, panicked screams and breathless gasps. She was pretty sure she was having a heart attack.

“Then let me help you understand,” Wednesday replied, the determination in her voice reflected in her eyes.

“ONE!”

Faster than Enid could prepare or process, Wednesday kissed her. On the lips. And after an incredible moment that lasted for an infinity, that she would carry with her for the rest of her life, Enid kissed back. She couldn’t see the fireworks outside, but she had a pretty good idea from inside the closet. The boom was her heartbeat, so quick and so loud. The heat was Wednesday’s lips against hers, warm and welcoming. The lights… the lights were the faint blush that graced Wednesday’s black and white cheeks, the shine in her eyes when they opened as they broke apart. Wednesday's hands were a chilly vine, receding from Enid’s hair, tracing her chin.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” The crowd from outside screamed, laughing and talking before breaking into a chorus. Wednesday’s eyes never left Enid, her brow furrowing.

“You taste like alcohol.”

Enid couldn’t help it. The flower in her chest had bloomed again, and something in her was just so… happy. She broke out into giggles, doubling over. She’d just kissed Wednesday fucking Addams. She’d just kissed Wednesday!

“Pffft. Happy New Year Wednesday.”

#wenclair #wenclair fic #My fic #my fics #im too lazy to put this on ao3 lol #whatever ill do it tommorow #well today technically #hang on did i just pull an all-nighter #shit

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nikethestatue · 9 days

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Happy birthday to my bestie, my mate, my Elriel sister @tswaney17

I wouldn't have joined this fandom without her. So if anything, blame her! Jokes aside, I hope you have a marvelous year and meet your own stranger in the night. Please enjoy!

One shot

Summary: Elain Archeron is celebrating her birthday and happens to meet an enigmatic and mysterious stranger who upends her world

She smoothed her black bodysuit over her hips, though it wasn’t wrinkled and then tousled her hair, in what she hoped, was sexy, beachy curls.

Anyone else would’ve told her that she looked great—well put together, elegant, and not trying too hard. But to her self-critical eye, she saw a slew of imperfections. Hips too wide, breasts too large, stumpy fingers...She could stand here all night and critique herself, but what would be the point? It was what it was, right? Some part of her though, liked what stared back. The black bodysuit hugged her in all the right places, and paired with strappy golden heels and some delicate gold jewelry, she looked...nice. Not quite her 31 years old. Her friends always said that she was a ‘young 30’. She looked about 24. But inside, there were days when she felt 78.

Oh well. Time to go. That’s not to say that she didn’t want to back out of her solo restaurant trip about 25 times today. Internally, she’s been telling herself that she is too busy, too tired, too poor, and that staying in with a bottle of wine and pizza would be just fine. Another part of her wanted to get out. Even if she looked like a loser, dining alone. At least it was a Wednesday night—not the weekend—so she could theoretically make up a story of being on a business trip. Not that anyone’s going to ask. But she needed that security blanket for herself: “I am eating alone, because I am here on business’. Yeah, that sounded legit. She was a successful, professional woman, determined and confident, and she was on business in Chicago.

She grabbed her clutch and headed out.

It was a warm evening by Chicago standards. The middle of April could be blustery or it could be blistering. You never knew. Tonight was lovely, actually. Trees were in full bloom—white, pink, yellow, assertive red, purple, even blue—bursting in flowers of every shape and size along the streets of her neighbourhood.

Beatrice was a quint restaurant in Fulton Market. Or as ‘quaint’ as a restaurant could be in the bustling, hipster corner of the city. She only knew it because she’d come here before with her stylish, popular co-worker, Morrigan. She recalled how Mor wore a pristine baby blue bodysuit, sky-high heels, and a sparkling silver belt studded with glittery gemstones. Mor’s hair was a waterfall of golden blonde, which cascaded sensually down her back. Her skin was flawless. Her makeup was perfection, and her nails the right shade of pearl. When they were seated, all the girls in the party immediately rattled off a list of things they didn’t eat, were allergic to, and ‘avoided’. Mor announced that she was ‘celiac’ in a tone that implied that obviously she was celiac! And then proceeded to order bread. When the waiter told her that bread has gluten, Mor said that ‘she was allowed to today’.

Back then, she’d ordered something called the Straight ‘A’ Salad, not wanting to tuck into something juicy and fatty in front of everyone. It ended up being empty and unsatisfying. But she still wanted to go back there, because the other items on the menu looked good, the vibe was nice and not overwhelming, and the drinks were inventive. If nothing else, she’d get her full in alcohol.

“Follow me, Miss,” the hostess beckoned her and she scurried quickly between tables, wanting to be seated as soon as possible.

It was nice. The table was by the wall, and she could see inside the restaurant and out the window. She laid her clutch on the table and exhaled. She was here. She was in her place, in her chair.

She made it.

“Are we celebrating anything tonight, Miss?” the waiter asked, when he approached with the menu.

“Oh no,” she laughed, “I am on a business trip.”

“And do you have any allergies?”

“No!” she stated decisively. No. She is going to eat what she wanted. No faux allergies for her.

The drinks menu looked a bit intimidating. Lots of things with Mezcal and Elderflower and words like ‘smoked’ and ‘hibiscus ginger kombucha’. After discreetly googling what kombucha was, she gagged and decided on a Lemond Drop. Safe and sound.

The waiter wasn’t exactly impressed by her choice, but she didn’t care. Instead, she ordered Cheddar Popovers with bacon butter, and green chili queso for appetizers. It harkened back to her California upbringing, where things were less formal, the food less complicated, and the loneliness less acute. She suddenly and desperately missed her sisters, who lived back home. She missed the sun, tacos, trips to Sacramento and the simpler life she had back home.

Sighing, she sipped her cocktail and looked around. It was fairly bustling, couples and friends chatting animatedly, drinking their complicated drinks and laughing. But...she felt okay. Not amazing, but okay. It was peaceful.

It felt peaceful until her eyes fell on a singular, solitaire figure of a man, who sat at the bar, with a drink in front of him. The reason she even paid attention to him was because he was literally breathtakingly beautiful. So handsome, her breath stalled in her chest. Big. So goddamn big, it felt like he was sucking the air into the vortex of a black hole that he’d created just by simply...being. He sat, unmoving, in a sharply cut suit and a white shirt, unbuttoned at his neck. The other reason why she looked at him was because he was staring back at her. Big, bold, unflinching stare. Those incredible, luminescent eyes almost glared at her, and she wished she’d know what colour they were. The man’s face remained impassive, but he continued staring, even once she’s averted her eyes and squirmed in her seat. And now, all she could feel was his stare, following her every move. It was suddenly hot, and she felt her nipples pop like tiny Whack-A-Moles beneath her bodysuit. Served her right for not wearing a bra! Jesus Mary and Joseph. Well, her evening was ruined just like that. Instead of being at peace with her lemon drop and her popovers, she was not being scorched by the gaze of this absurdly handsome man, and all she wanted to do was look his way and see if he was still looking at her. While she didn’t want him to be looking at her. But she wanted to make sure that he was. Oh, god. What. The. Hell.

She was on the verge of fanning herself, before realising that she’d be looking like she was having hot flashes, and it was too early for that. Her nipples were hard as bullets and she was forced to cover her breasts with her folded arms, just to maintain some sense of decorum. As she ‘busied’ herself with her drink, she snuck a momentary glance at the man. He was still there, but no longer looking at her. Instead, he was on his phone, and a deep sense of regret and longing washed over her at once.

He was interested in her for 23 seconds.

That was it.

But she supposed that for the most handsome man in the world to take notice of her for 23 seconds was sufficient enough.

“Miss, your popovers,” the waiter stepped up to the table, placing one plate down in front of her, and then the other, “and queso. Please be careful, it’s hot.”

The food looked fine, but somehow, she no longer felt particularly hungry. She wasn’t sure if it was because the man was no longer looking at her, or because he was looking at her before. Did she want him to look at her? No. No, she didn’t. He was entirely outside her comfort zone, with his piercing gaze and his unnaturally good looks and he was definitely a player, so there was no need for all of this.

On her birthday, all she wanted was peace and quiet. She didn’t need smouldering men giving her the death stare. Instead, she forced herself to concentrate on her food. The popovers were light and fluffy and crispy on the outside, and the bacon butter was to die for. Sinful, but so, so good.

She sunk into her seat, enjoying her cocktail and alternating between the popovers and then the rich, spicy queso. She was still deciding on the main course—penne with spicy vodka sauce? Slow cooked short rib?

“Miss,”

Her contemplation was interrupted by the waiter, who was holding a drink.

“From the gentleman at the bar,” he said and placed the drink in front of her.

Her mouth fell open. Whaaat...

Timidly, she allowed her eyes to travel to the bar and sure enough, there he was. Staring. A small, secret smile touched his beautiful mouth and he inclined his head just a bit. She didn’t exactly know how to act in these situations. Was she supposed to drink the drink that he sent? Invite him over? Go over there herself? Ignore him like a total douche?

Okay, first things first. She raised the pretty coupe glass to her lips and tentatively sipped the drink. Sour and smokey, with a touch of sweetness and heavy on lemon flavour, this was definitely a whiskey drink. And she didn’t like whiskey. But for some reason, she really liked this. She took another sip, a bolder one, and then glanced at the man. He was smiling, as he watched her drink, and when she swallowed, he winked at her. Approving? Enjoying watching her? Smug? Pleased? She wasn’t sure. But she...

“Ready to order, Miss?” the waiter was back, and she absently said ‘fish tacos’ which isn’t what she even wanted, but she was too scrambled to come up with a better idea. “Very good,” the waiter chirped, and before he disappeared, she said, “can you ask the gentleman who bought the drink to join me?”

Her throat was dry. Her underarms were sweaty.

WHAT was she doing??

She never did anything like this before? Inviting strange men to eat with her? Never!

“If he wants to,” she added quickly and the waiter nodded.

God, please say no. Please. Please god, let him say no. I don’t want it. I don’t.

There he was. Moving through the restaurant like the Angel of Death. Dark and tall and slim and muscular. Jesus. He was actually coming over! Oh. No. Nononononono.

And then he was standing at her table, how own drink in hand.

“I wasn’t sure if Whiskey Sour was the way to go,” he said—his deep, dark, raspy voice matching his appearance to a tee. "But it looks like I did well.”

She swallowed hard and then muttered, “Is that what it is?”

Yep, it sounded lame even to her own ears.

“Indeed,” he confirmed. “First time?”

Somehow, this made her blush. A simple question, and a correct assumption, but for some reason, it was laced with innuendo.

Their eyes finally locked.

Hazel. His eyes are a gorgeous greenish amber colour, spectacular like the rest of him.

He took a sip of his drink and slowly dragged the tip of his tongue over his lower lip, swiping the droplet and that made her even sweatier than she was before. Soon she was going to be sweating like a sumo wrestler—which of course is the most enticing look a woman could sport.

“No, I’ve had it before,” she finally managed to answer.

He smirked a knowing smile.

“Have you?”

As he was looming over her and attracting way too much attention from the females of the species, and even some males, she all but ordered him, “you can sit down!”

He smiled again, that smooth, secret smile, saying, “I thought you’d never ask”.

She didn’t know what to say to that, so she just watched him in silence as he slid onto a chair across from her.

“Thanks for the drink,” feeling awfully uncomfortable, knowing she was not great at small talk, and completely out of depth with this man, she thought that this was all a pretty bad idea. What was supposed to have been a quiet and nice evening alone, was turning into...well, she wasn’t sure what it was turning into, but it was something.

“You aren’t waiting for anyone, are you?” he asked, sounding curious. “I wouldn’t need to fight a boyfriend or something...I mean, I’ll win, but,”

She huffed, and snorted a laugh.

“So confident?”

He shrugged, “pretty confident”. After a pause, he pressed, “so?”

“No,” she blushed despite her best efforts to appear cool. “I am here alone. On a business trip,” she lied smoothly, grateful for having this little nugget in her pocket.

He crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair, lounging comfortably. Suddenly, he said,

“Nope. Try again.”

Startled, she glowered at him, not knowing what he meant. All the while, as she squirmed in confusion, he casually drank his whiskey, watching her closely.

“What,” she brought her glass to her lips and took a generous swig of the drink, “what do you mean?”

“Only that you are not being exactly truthful,” he shrugged, and then grabbed a popover and swallowed the whole thing easily. “You aren’t here on any business trip.”

“What?!” she exclaimed with indignation. “Excuse me! How do you know? What do you mean?”

His eyes slowly slid over her bare arms, her chest, her neck, and again, she blushed like a fool, but there was no stopping her body’s reaction to this strange man.

He was...enigmatic.

“A beautiful woman like you, wearing something so elegant and understated,”

Understated? Did he mean boring?

“is not in Chicago on any business trip. So, that makes me think—if you aren’t waiting for anyone, and you are dressed up, then you must be,” he cocked his head, considering, “celebrating something? A new job? A birthday?”

Most of his words rolled right over her head, because all she heard was ‘a beautiful woman like you’. He thought that she was beautiful? He? HE thought that?

“What?” she asked dumbly.

He chuckled, amused. “You are a little naughty liar, is what I am saying,”

“You can’t call me that!”

“Then don’t lie to me.”

She bubbled her lips and finished her drink. Finished already? Shit.

He noticed it too and motioned for the waiter.

“Another drink for the lady,” he ordered. “And I’ll take another whiskey. And,” he thought for a moment and added, “bring us a bottle of champagne.” He looked at her and asked, “what are you eating?”

“I think I ordered fish tacos,” she recalled, watching him in confusion.

“Want to eat them?”

“I dunno.”

“Mind if I cancel them and order us steaks?”

“Uhh...okay?”

He did just that, telling the waiter that he’d pay for the tacos as well.

Who the hell was this guy? He flicked his fingers and just got whatever he wanted. The waiter didn’t even question him! ‘Of course, sir’ ‘Whatever you want, sit’ ‘Right away, sir’.

“So, is it your birthday?” he asked once the waiter ran to fetch the drinks. Literally, ran.

“No.”

His brows knitted together and he pursed his lips.

Something about him and his look made goose bumps rise on her skin and she shifted under the table, crossing her legs. This guy and his unbelievable dominating bossiness were both scary, but also highly sexual. She knew that she was a bit of a submissive at heart, but that was mostly because she read way too many omegaverse books. But now, she was faced with a true Alpha. When they spoke of an Alpha Male, she suddenly became aware that she was in the presence of one. He wasn’t just tall, dark and handsome—even if he was a walking cliche with all of these attributes. But it was his undeniable, almost God-given natural dominance and superiority that she found so fascinating. And yes, so appealing as well.

“It’s not your birthday?” he repeated.

“N-no,” she bleated pathetically.

He didn’t respond immediately, but only drummed his fingers on the table, and she noticed that his hands were scarred. Rather extensively. Burns, from what she could tell. Jesus. How did he get these? And both hands, too.

“Lie to me again, and I will take you over my knees and spank that perfect bottom until you beg for mercy,” he warned, his voice impassive, his face unchanged.

Her mouth dropped open and she thought that she was going to slide under the table and dissolve into a puddle.

Was she supposed to cause a scene and slap him? Was she supposed to storm out of the restaurant? How does one reacted to being threatened by a spanking by a complete stranger?

Also, he thought that her ass was ‘perfect’?

“Let’s start anew, beautiful girl,” he proposed then, while she made silent gasping noises like a dying fish.

The waiter arrived just then, and only that prevented her from fainting or screaming out loud. He popped the champagne bottle with flourish and poured both of them a measure, while also setting their cocktails down before them.

“Don’t come back until the food is ready,” the stranger warned the waiter and the man nodded and left without saying a word.

“What is your name?”

She swallowed, but remembering his warning, she decided to go with the truth this time.

“Elain.”

“Gorgeous name,” he approved. “It suits you. I am Azriel.”

“Azriel,” an exotic name for an exotic man. “Nice to meet you. I think?” she ventured and extended her hand to him.

“Pleasure is certainly all mine,” he said, squeezing her hand in his huge, warm, powerful palm, watching her with strange, almost palatable hunger. “Whether you’ll receive pleasure from me or not remains to be seen,” he decided vaguely and she bit her lip, sensing that innuendo again and not knowing how to deal with it.

The one time a guy was instantly interested in her, and he is a dangerous weirdo. Figures. Just her luck.

He raised his glass and said, “Happy birthday, Elain! I hope it’s wonderful to you.”

“Thank you. That remains to be seen, I think,” she said softly and they touched their glasses. She sucked the champagne quickly, and with a sense of foreboding and some kind of desperation. She had no idea where this was going, or what he wanted from her. But she wanted it to continue. At least for the duration of this dinner.

“What do you do?” he inquired, dipping a chip into the queso, but instead of eating it, he held it out to her. She looked around, in some kind of futile hope that someone would save her from this, but there was no one. Only this stunning, somewhat insane man, who was feeding her chips and dip.

“Come on, beautiful Elain. Open up,” he urged soft, his voice smooth and husky and so tempting.

Numb, and only driven by the sound of that sensual voice, she opened her mouth and he gently pushed the chip inside. As she pulled it between her teeth, he brushed his finger over her lower lip and then brought it to his mouth and sucked.

“More?” he whispered and then concluded, “more.”

He dipped another chip and fed it to her again.

“So?”

“I am in marketing,” she answered, knowing in advance that hers was the most uninspiring answer in history. But she was more preoccupied by the fact that she was being fed chips by a strange man in the middle of a restaurant.

“And you live in the city?” he asked further. “Please don’t even start with the whole ‘I am here on business’.”

She sighed and admitted, “Fine, I am from the suburbs. But I work in the city. What do you do?”

He didn’t seem too thrilled about her question and took his time eating the last of the popovers.

“Do you really want to know?” he asked finally.

“Yes, of course. Why not?”

“You might not like it.”

“Why wouldn’t I? What do you do? Kill people?” she joked.

He smiled at her, but the smile was less of a smile, and more just a stretch of his lips. The smile didn’t reach his eyes

“And if I am?” he wondered at last.

She frowned and then it dawned on her and she laughed, “what? You kill people?”

“Maybe.”

A shiver ran down her spine and she gawked at him in shock. Until she dissolved in a flurry of laughs.

“You had me there for a sec!” she wiggled her finger at him. “A+ for a perfect deadpan delivery! I am impressed.”

He didn’t seem to be laughing, but he added, “but they were all bad”.

She stopped laughing and nervously shifted in her seat.

“Wait. What?”

“You wanted to know what I did for a living,” he reminded her.

As she processed his words, he just sat there, watching her intently.

“Oh my god,” she exclaimed at last, realisation dawning on her, “it’s a scam, right?! You are one of those guys who pretends to be an assassin, or a millionaire, or in the CIA and then I fall for it, and in two months you’ll start asking me for money and I blow all my savings on you and then never hear from you again.”

Shaking her head in disbelief she grabbed her napkin and then said, “thank you for the drink, Mr. Azriel. But I am not stupid. I appreciate the gesture—the razzle dazzle—but let’s part ways right here so that no one leaves here too traumatised.”

He listened to her impassively and in the next moment, the waiter arrived with their steaks.

She was hungry and upset, but she knew that she couldn’t stay here any longer and remain in his company. The whole thing was too bizarre and she didn’t want to get in trouble. And this man was clearly trouble. Or maybe troubled. Or both.

“Azriel, I am,”

“Sit,” he ordered, though his tone was soft. “You are safe with me. Don’t worry. But you did ask me what I did for a living,” he insisted again.

“Well, when I did ask you, I didn’t expect for you to tell me that you are some kind of a killer!” she snapped, her voice rising.

“I’d rather you didn’t yell,” he requested. “However, I wanted to tell you,”

“Why?!” she exclaimed. “Don’t killers usually try and keep their profession,” she made a quotation mark sign with her fingers, “a secret?”

“Normally, yes,” he agreed. “But, I want you to trust me and I felt that being honest is the best way to earn that trust.”

“Trust me? Why? And,”

“Because I want you,” he interrupted her and his tone was blunt, but calm.

“Wha,”

“I want you,” he repeated. “I saw you and you...well, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And now, I am obsessed with the idea of learning what you’d look like when I enter you. What sounds you’d make when you come on my tongue.”

At that, the big steak knife fell out of her trembling fingers and she wondered if she was having some kind of out of body experience. An ‘episode’? She wasn’t prone to episodes, but hell, there was a first time for everything, right?

He shrugged, and continued like this was a perfectly sane conversation they were having, “Sorry if this is a bit unorthodox,”

An understatement of the century!

“However, I am not one to mince words,”

Another understatement of the century.

“And when I want something, I go after it. And right now, I want you.”

She made a gurgling sound, but he ignored it, then cut into his steak, and chewed slowly.

“However, you don’t strike me as someone who sleeps around or who is used to the type of man I am,”

Was any woman?

“Therefore, I wanted to build a baseline of trust between us. Like I said, you have nothing to fear from me. I am simply a man, interested in a woman.”

He was anything but, but okay.

“So,” she finally found her voice which was lost somewhere in the bottom of her stomach, “telling me you are an assassin is your way of establishing a baseline of trust?”

He looked at her hand, which was clutching a butter knife, her knuckles white, and smiled faintly.

“I suppose so.”

She reached for the bottle of champagne, but her hands were shaking so badly, she could barely grasp it. Smoothly, he took the bottle and topped off her glass. This was probably the worst idea—to continue drinking—but she couldn't think of anything else.

“Why don’t you relax and eat,” he suggested. “The steak is cooked perfectly.”

“I don’t think I am hungry.”

“Nonsense. Lay down your weapon of choice, dig into your dish and relax a bit. Have fun. It's your birthday!”

He then raised his glass and mused, ‘what should we toast to?”

“Me remaining sane after this dinner,” she muttered under her breath.

He laughed.

“How about ‘to the future’? Because tomorrow with you is worth every yesterday I spent without you,” he said and she almost choked.

He couldn’t be for real.

No man talked like that. Ever.

“Listen, I know I could a little blunt, but in my line of work, I have to move quickly and I typically don’t get many second chances. And I don’t want to miss my chance with you,” he drank his champagne and watched her attempt to concentrate on her steak. “And when I said that you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, I am being honest. I saw you across the restaurant and you kind of blew my mind. It happens, you know,”

“No, it doesn’t,” she argued. “Only in romance novels.”

“Okay,” he shrugged, “so we have a romance novel beginning, so what?”

“It’s not real,” she insisted.

“Well, while you think on that, tell me when I can kiss you, because I’d really, really would like to kiss you right now,”

“Never!” she shrieked. “Stop talking like that!”

She desperately needed him to stop talking. Stop using that sensual, deep baritone to say deliciously sinful things to her. Because if he continued, she wasn’t sure what she’d do. She kept trying to shield her breasts from him, since her nipples were achingly sharp, threatening to poke through the top of her body suit. And between her legs—disaster. She was flooded. Every glance at his strong, powerful hands made her wonder what they’d feel like between her thighs. What his soft lips would taste like if he did get that kiss from her. And every word he said just made her wetter and wetter. She feared she’d have a stain on her clothes once she got up from her seat, and the thought alone was mortifying.

“I think you should let me kiss you,” he insisted, watching her intently.

“No, I am not kissing you!”

God, this steak was good!

“How about this then,” he proposed slowly, “I scoot closer to you, and you let me play with your clit, while you eat, and then you come all over my hand. I pay the bill and we go to my place and I’ll continue making you come. Because all I want to do right now is kiss every inch of your porcelain skin, and fuck your soft, lovely mouth and watch my dick disappear between those rosy lips. And then you’ll come on my dick in your perfect pussy and ask for more, while screaming my name. And if you let me, I’ll fuck that gorgeous ass as well and will make you come from that as well. And then you’ll sleep in my arms and in the morning, we’ll go get breakfast.”

She watched him in dull astonishment, her brain failing to work properly as she attempted to process his words.

This really couldn’t be real. At all. No man, in the history of mankind, ever said words like these to a woman.

Yes, he just sat there, with her perfect face and his perfect body, and waited.

“And then you’ll go and kill some people at work?” was all she managed to say to his explicit monologue.

She’s never been fucked anywhere, let alone her ass. So yeah.

“Well, not at work. For work,” he corrected.

“Uh uh,” she sighed. “And you are okay with me knowing about that then?”

“Like I told you, I want you to trust me.”

“Uh uh,” she sighed again. Then she set her napkin aside and told him calmly,

“Azriel, it certainly has been an interesting evening. I thank you. I am not sure I’ll ever forget it, or you, but...I don’t think that I am the girl you need,”

“All me to decide that,” he argued sharply.

She chewed the inside of her cheek, before clarifying, “I suppose I choose not to be that girl for you.”

“Why?”

“I like my boring little life. It suits me. And you...you don’t suit me or my life.”

She couldn’t even believe her own assertiveness. She was rarely like this.

“It’s unfortunate,” he said sadly. “Forgive me if I offended you,”

“Astonished, more like,”

“Better than offended.”

She got up from her chair and her knees felt soft and shaky, and for the first time she understood what ‘jelly legs’ were. She had jelly legs because of him.

“Thank you for dinner. I better be going.”

“I’d like to walk you to your car,” he offered.

“I think it’s a bad idea. Besides, I am getting an Uber. I drank too much. Goodbye, Azriel.”

She rushed out of the restaurant and onto the bustling Fulton Market, where there were hundreds of people milling around. Her fingers trembling, she got her phone out of her clutch and pressed the Uber button on the verge of hysteria now. She didn’t know where she was going even, so she pressed ‘home’ even though she knew this Uber would host like $60 at least. But she needed to get away. Away from here, away from him, away from making a bad decision. Very bad, terrible decision that she was yearning to make right now.

3 minutes.

Okay, she just needed to make it for 3 minutes out here, until the car came.

She glanced at the phone frantically, over and over again, watching the little car move along the street diagram.

Suddenly, a familiar scarred hand reached over her shoulder and grabbed her phone.

“Wait! Give it back!” she demanded desperately.

Azriel smiled at her and then typed something in her phone.

“Now you have my number.”

A text chimed, and he added, “and I have yours”.

“We’ll never see each other again,” she promised.

“We’ll see,” he said simply.

Finally, Honda Civic! Blue! There she was!

She bounced on her heels impatiently, hoping he wouldn’t do anything, and yet hoping that he would at the same time.

Ugh.

“Goodbye, Azriel,” she said again.

He opened the door for her politely and before she folded herself into the car, he pressed his lips to the top of her head.

“Happy birthday, beautiful. I’ll see you later.”

Azriel ‘The Shadow’ Night had two problems on his hands.

As he watched the Honda weave in and out of busy traffic, he lit a cigarette—an occasional bad habit of his—and inhaled deeply.

Nothing that he told her was a lie.

He did find her to be incredibly beautiful. And his attraction to her was instant and hit him like an avalanche. He’d never felt anything remotely like this before. He wanted her with every fiber of his being and know, innately, that their paths were crossed forever and for a reason.

The only omission in his tale was that their meeting was not accidental. And that she was the target, who was his current assignment.

Now, he needed to figure out how to murder her, while keeping her alive.

#elriel #elriel fanfic #my fanfiction #my writing #elain archeron #azriel #azriel and elain #pro elriel #elain x azriel #elain #acotar fanfiction #Modern AU

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