#A match baked in heaven

[nikethestatue]

A Match Baked In Heaven

Well, here we are--at the end of the road (though there will be a sizeable Epilogue coming up in the future).

But I want to thank everyone who stuck with me since October 2023, when I first got the bizarre idea to write a story about a London Matchmaker and an Arsenal footballer. I hope you all enjoyed the journey and I hope that the conclusion is satisfying.

TW: EXPLICIT (there is a long sex scene in this one)

Also, it's a long chapter.

Please let me know, Anon or not, what you thought of what came to be known as 'Matchy'.

Thanks again!

-

Chapter XVIII

I Got Mine

“Fine. It’s all a lie.”

Elain sighed and hung her head dejectedly.

She was tired. So very tired. She rubbed at her throat, which was aching from all the rough treatment that Azriel inflicted on her neck. He’s been unusually rough today. He wasn’t very gentle to begin with, his grip on her typically tight and firm. But today, he was almost vicious. 

“You happy now?” she walked to the door. “You’ve lied. And I believed you. I am a stupid naive woman who fell for a playboy’s lies. Tale as old as time,” she shrugged.

She fiddled with the handle, not realising that he’d locked the door with a key.

“This was a mistake,” she said with some finality in her voice.

“Is that what you think?” Azriel asked in turn. “That we were a mistake?”

“Seems kind of obvious now,” she pointed out to him. 

“I don’t think so,” he argued. “Actually, I don’t think so at all.”

“Please open the door,” she begged him, with tears in her eyes.

“No.”

“Azriel,” she hissed. “I am tired. I want to go home. I want to take Piglet and I want to go home. Open the damn door right now!”

“Or what?” he was curious, “You’ll start screaming?”

“If I have to.”

She turned to face him and said clearly, “Listen, all I want is my fee and I will be out of your hair and you can live happily ever after.”

He seemed to think about her words, and then crossed his arms and said, “Hmmm. That's going to be a problem.”

“What will?”

“The fee,” he explained calmly. 

“Why is that?” she hissed with indignation.

“Because you are fired.”

He said it in a bland tone, like it didn’t mean anything. If she wasn’t listening closely, she probably would’ve missed his words. But she heard him, and her eyes popped wildly.

How dare he?

Fired?

FIRED?

He was firing her?

“You can’t possibly!” she cried. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Oh, I would. And I am,” he assured her dryly.

Fuming, she exclaimed, “why?! What did I do? How could you?!”

“Your services were lacking,” he shrugged callously.

Elain’s hand flew to her neck, and she glowered at him in utter shock, her breaths jerky and short. Say what he will, but she was good. She was excellent at her job. Her services never ‘lacked’ anything. Even with him and their complicated relationship, she still fulfilled the terms of their contract and introduced him to viable matches. Not only that but he was getting married! To one of the matches. And now he was claiming that she didn’t do a good job and that she was lacking.

“My services do not lack anything, sir!” she snarled at him angrily. 

The corner of his mouth lifted in a tiny smirk. 

“Sir?” he repeated. “I like it.”

She didn’t even understand what he was referring to for a moment, but then it dawned on her and she just about growled in her throat. All he ever thought of was sex! Or something juvenile or utterly daft.

“You want to call me ‘daddy’, baby?” he offered, smiling that nasty smile. “Oh, wait, you already do! In fact, you called me that today.”

“No I didn’t!”

“Oh yes you did. When you told that fat mongrel to stop biting me,” he reminded her.

“My dog isn't a mongrel! He is purebred,”

Azriel scoffed and asked, “what are the breeds? Pug, asshole and psycho?”

“Shut up,” she snapped. “I now wish I didn’t pull him off of you.”

“And what? Have him bite my dick off?” he mused.

“I don’t care! It’s of no use to me,” she waved her hand dismissively. 

“Are you sure, sweetness?” he snorted a laugh. “Might as well use it to get yourself off a few times.”

She gasped and reddened adorably.

“Or,” he continued, but she begged him, 

“Please stop talking!”

“Remember when I walked in on you?” his voice lost its sharpness and his expression seemed to soften a smidge. Though Elain had no idea what he was referring to and what he’d walked on. 

“You remember,” he pressed, stepping closer to her.

“No, I have no idea.”

“When I walked in on you,” he repeated. “And you had my sweatshirt rolled up into a ball, and you tucked it under your dress,”

She blushed violently, remembering it. Oh god. Why now? What was he bringing this up now?

He was so close to her now, and then his hand was on her face, cupping her cheek, the scars so familiar and so beautiful, that she wanted to cry again. She wanted to bury her face in his hands and have that rough, scarred skin scrape over her cheeks, over her eyes…She wanted his fingers touching her lips, the way he always enjoyed it. 

“You stood in front of the mirror,” he whispered, his chin landing on her head, and his arms wrapping around her. “And you didn’t know that I was there, watching you. You were looking at yourself, with a big round belly under your dress, thinking how you would look with my baby inside of you.”

“I…i,” she attempted to argue, but there was no reason. It did happen. She’d imagined it. Many times. What she’d look like pregnant, what it would feel like to have his baby inside of her, what their family would look like.

She couldn’t stifle a sob, which ripped out from her throat. It was a loud, choking, dry heave–a cry for the future she’d never have.

His hand migrated to her head, and he stroked her gently, his chin still resting atop the satin band. He was huge, his body even bigger and more muscular than she’d remembered. 

“Shhh,” he cooed quietly. “Don’t cry, lassie.”

That only made Elain sob harder. When he called her ‘lassie’, she could barely function on a good day. Today wasn’t a good day. 

“I have to fire you, sweetheart,” he told her again, calmly, almost soothingly.

“What are you talking about?” she sniffled, still perplexed by what he was trying to convey with this. She pulled away from his chest and looked up at him through her tears.

“The problem is,” he explained, as he moved his hand back to her face, and stroked his knuckles over her cheeks, “is that you are very unprofessional,”

Elain sucked in a breath and readied herself for an argument, but he didn’t pay her any heed and just continued talking, 

“Because you made your client fall madly, irreversibly in love with you. And he adores you insatiably. Every longing he’s ever had is just his desire to possess you with every word and every action. You’ve consumed every thought in his head. You quieted the demons inside of him. You made him like himself more than he ever thought possible.”

Elain blinked rapidly, staring at him with incomprehension. She wasn’t sure what he was saying exactly, but it sounded an awful like a love confession. 

“So you understand why I must fire you,” he pressed his lips to her forehead.

“Nooo,” she whimpered.

“Conflict of interest, my love,” Azriel smiled at her. “You are my conflict. My conundrum.”

“But…” she reached up and squeezed his neck. “Azriel. What are you saying?”

He sighed. 

At that moment, someone banged on the doors, rapping on it impatiently and they heard an unfamiliar voice, saying, “Mr. Night. This is highly irregular. The ceremony is to be held in 30 minutes. Mr. Night…”

Azriel tilted Elain’s head the way he wanted to, ignoring the irate attendant. 

“You can’t hate me for this,” he said firmly. There was something mischievous in his gaze, but also devious and unrepentant. Elain gulped down on some air, frightened of what was about to come out of his mouth.

“Or Feyre,” he added.

At the mention of her sister, she shuddered visibly. She didn’t expect him to bring her up. Whatever this was, it was bad. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what he was referring to.

“What did you do?” she asked, her voice trembling. Despite the general heaviness of her elaborate dress, she was shivering against Azriel’s broad chest, her palms cold and sweaty at the same time.

“You want to sit down?” he offered thoughtfully, gently rubbing her bare arms up and down, warming her up.

“What did you do?” she repeated.

“Lied to you.”

There was a beat of silence between the two of them, which stretched into an uncomfortably long pause.

At last, Elain managed a tiny, “how?”

She felt small and wounded, like a hunted animal under the scrutiny of his gaze. 

“I needed to make you suffer,” he said cruelly. 

“Why?”

“So I’d know that you loved me,” he squeezed her chin almost painfully in his hand. His eyes bore into hers, and his mouth turned into a straight, angry line. “So you would know what it’s like to be without me. So you’d feel it. The way I felt it. I don’t think that you knew that this was real until you’d lost me.”

“What the hell are you saying?” she pushed at him, but he held her steady, squeezing her arms and her face in his huge hands. “I always knew that this was real!”

“Yeah…no, I don’t think so. Like I said, Elain, you needed to be humbled,” he reminded her with that same cruel glint in his eyes, “you needed to understand that I was your man. You needed to cry and you needed to beg for forgiveness, knowing that you’d lost me.”

“I am not going to beg you!” she shoved at him, cheeks red. “Not for anything!”

“Oh, you will,” he assured her. “Because I hold your happiness in my hands.”

“So hooking up with Gwyn was your way of making me beg?” she huffed a hysterical laugh.

He released her so suddenly, she almost fell. 

“No.”

“No, what?”

“No, I lied about that,” he announced blandly. 

Her brow furrowed and she stared at him, fearful, annoyed, and hopelessly hopeful. What she was hoping for, she wasn’t even sure.

“You lied about…” she began saying, but was interrupted by his vigorous nodding.

“Told you, you were threepence short of a shilling,” he scoffed. 

“Stop insulting me!” she yelled.

“Then stop being daft!” he yelled back.

Composing himself instantly, he let go of her and circled the room, looking agitated. She was still waiting for more–for an actual explanation of what he meant when he said that he’d lied. Frankly, right this moment, she didn’t care about the logistics or complete comprehension of what had occurred. She just stood in the middle of the room, trembling. 

“You…you aren’t with her?” she whispered pathetically. “You aren’t with Gwyn? You broke up?”

He ceased his pacing and looked out the window.

It was a lovely, sunny day outside. The birds were loud–he could hear them even from here, and the greenery outside was pregnant with life. It was bursting and flowering, blackthorn trees were already heavy with pink and white flowers, and cherry plums began blooming as well. It was unusually beautiful for this early in the spring. 

“I was never with her.”

Elain’s head snapped towards him and she stared intently, looking for any sign of dishonesty.

“What do you mean?” she whispered brokenly.

“You know what I mean,” he turned to look at her. “You know exactly what I mean. I am firing you because I am in love with you. And it would be a conflict of interest to continue to employ you. I’ve never loved anyone but you,” he added quietly. “Only you.”

“So,” she was shaking so violently, she grabbed the back of the chair, to hold herself upright. “This…this whole thing? What is this…what of Gwyn?” 

A look of complete bewilderment flickered over her flushed face.

“Like I said, a ruse,” Azriel didn’t look at her, as he inspected her forearm, carefully pulling the drying paper towel off. “I asked Gwyn to play along and she is a romantic at heart, apparently,”

Elain wiped her face, feeling faint. 

“Don’t worry,” he glanced at her, though he sounded frighteningly rational. “I know it’s fucked up. But you wouldn’t fucking listen. So drastic measures needed to be employed,”

“You are grotesque,” she moaned, staring at him in horror.

“I’d call it ‘crafty’,” he argued. “I find solutions, you see. I always win. I wanted you, and I was going to have you by any means possible.”

“You…you…” she choked out, “you will not have me!”

“No, I will,” he assured her.

“You did all this,” she made a wide swipe with her hand. “You…what…” she was feeling so out of sorts, so discombobulated that she was actually afraid that she was either losing her mind or experiencing some kind of an episode. She scrambled to recall stroke symptoms–was that numbness in her left arm? Was her face drooping? Could she still speak and make sense? Because if she thought about this objectively, nothing made sense. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, his tone concerned, as he noted her confusion, and her sweaty pallor. “Do you want some water?” 

The good thing was that the antechamber had been set up with champagne, water, whiskey, truffles, and biscuits. Azriel poured her some water and came to where she was standing.

“Sit down, sweetness,” she urged her gently, wrapping his arm around her waist and carefully pushing her down on the chair. She all but collapsed, without even arguing, and sat on the chair, while he brought the glass to her lips and held the back of her head, so she could drink.

“Drink,” he cooed, stroking her head. “That’s my girl.” 

He put his palm on her abdomen and whispered, “breathe, Ellie. I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“Azriel,” she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, not even caring what that looked like, “you need to be honest with me now. Are you marrying Gwyn?”

“No,” he answered, shaking his head. “No, I am not. I am hoping to marry you, actually.”

“Then what is all this?” she insisted, looking around. She was very well familiar with this venue–it was popular with well-off brides, who could afford the exorbitant prices. Lots of celebrities were married here as well–Judy Garland, Patsy Kensit and Jim Kerr, Prince Pavlos of Greece, Irving Penn and Lisa Fonssagrives, Wallis Simpson, Patrick Vieira, Marco Pierre White and others. This venue required deposits and arrangements and advance notices. This was not a walk-in. 

He went to the refreshments table, poured himself a whiskey, pulled up a chair and sat facing her. 

“Listen,” he said, taking her hand in his. “I was really pissed at you, especially after that day at the Ivy.”

She tried to remember, but came up empty handed. What happened at the Ivy?

Azriel didn’t expand on it though. He continued, ignoring her confusion.

“It was a combination of bad advice and my own personal anger. And frankly, I am still pissed at you, but whatever. I am over it. I got your sister to help me,” he said, and it dawned on Elain that he meant Feyre.

“What did she do?”

“Well, I couldn’t go to Nesta because she’d rip my cock off and I am fond of the thing,” he confessed. “Though it’s withering and dying as we speak, due to disuse,” he sighed dramatically and Elain couldn’t help but chuckle. “You don’t understand,” he pressed, “I’ve not been inside a pussy since early September. We are in March now.”

“Oh!” she scowled, “however are you surviving?!! Poor lad,”

“I am! I am a fucking poor lad!” he agreed vehemently. 

“What did you rope my sister into?” she asked instead, taking his tumbler and throwing back the rest of his whiskey. He snorted a laugh at her, his brow raised in amusement.

“Got her to find an appropriate venue–this was her choice, but I think she did well,” he said, looking around. “And then of course, she designed the invitation,” he told her sheepishly. 

Elain’s mouth popped open.

The invitation.

Mr. Azriel Singer-Night and Miss Gwyneth Berdara request the pleasure of your company at their nuptials…

“Jesus Christ,” Elain moaned softly.

“Okay, before you freak out,” he said quickly, but she cut him off,

“Before? BEFORE I freak out? I am freaking out, Azriel. I am so past freaking out, you have no idea!”

“Okay, I understand,” he nodded, caressing her arm soothingly, like it made it okay. “But don’t blame her. I bribed her,”

“With what?!!”

He winced and said quietly,

“Unlimited hugs from Pink?” rubbing the back of his neck, he added quickly, “so you’ll need to sort that out with him, because I can’t. I would–I absolutely would–but he hates me. So I am not sure he’ll listen. So you should probably get on that sharpish.”

“So you are bribing my sister with my dog to create a fake invite to your fake wedding with another woman? And I have to be the one to make good on your promise?” 

He considered it and then acknowledged, “Well, when you say it like that, it doesn’t sound good.”

“It doesn’t sound good,” she concurred.

She couldn’t even comprehend the depth of his deception. It was truly unhinged. Diabolical.

And yet…

To go to these lengths was truly inexplicable behaviour, unless Azriel was genuinely…in love. 

“But,” he continued, “on the other hand–,”

“There is more?” she groaned, needing more whiskey. Sharpish.

“I planned a wedding for us,” he said, trying to look innocent. 

She let out a hysterical laugh. 

“You actually think that I would marry you after all this?”

Azriel opened his mouth, but there was a forceful knock on the door and they heard Rhysand’s voice,

“I brought your trousers and a new jacket.”

“How long is this going to take?” Nesta echoed. “If it takes you over 45 minutes to convince someone to marry you, then maybe they are not that into you,” she shouted. “And you should take the hint! She can do much better than you!”

Azriel winced and murmured, “fuck she is brutal”.

Elain took the interruption as an opportunity–she jumped from her chair and rushed to the door, hissing at Azriel “open it!”

He sighed, but did not argue and walked to open the door.

Nesta was standing there with a sneer on her face, arms crossed on her chest.

“You knew too?!” Elain cried out, not believing that her sister would do this to her.

Nesta rolled her eyes slightly,

“I didn’t. But I guessed,”

“How?” Explain!” Elain exclaimed. “How did you know?”

“Know what?” Cassian piped in, looking a tad lost in this conversation.

Rhys meanwhile wrinkled his nose, looking at Azriel’s paper-toweled arms, and his torn trousers, ordering him, “You need to change.”

Fenris and Feyre were minding the snarling Piglet, and Feyre had the good sense to look guilty and avoid Elain’s blazing glare.

“Is there always this much drama with these families?” Fenris wondered out loud, smirking at the ridiculousness of the situation. 

“How did you know?” Elain insisted, while Azriel wrapped his fingers over her upper arm and held her close to him.

Nesta pursed her lips, giving him an unamused look and then said, “I didn’t believe that he left you. Not for a second. He loves you too much. Always have.”

Elain stared at her sister, eyes wide, expression shuttered. 

“Told you,” Azriel breathed into her ear. 

“Leave me alone!” she tried to wrestle her arm out of his hold, but to no avail. 

Rhys handed Azriel a garment bag, saying, “if we could make this happen some time today, it would be wonderful.”

“You knew it too?” Elain asked accusingly.

Rhys shrugged innocently.

“I am married to Feyre darling, you know. It certainly didn’t take an hour to convince her to marry me, did it, Fey?”

Elain pointed her finger at her sister, and growled at her, “I will have a very serious talk with you later.”

Cassian stepped forth, looking puzzled.

“Wait. You aren’t marrying Gwyn?” he confirmed.

Nesta groaned.

Azriel said ‘no’.

Cassian exhaled loudly and exclaimed, “oh thank God! But are you marrying Elain? I am so confused.”

“Clearly,” Nesta sniped under her breath.

“He is not marrying me!!” Elain howled desperately. “He made his bed and,”

“You’ll be in it,” Azriel told her with mad confidence.

“Ha! Dream on. Never. You are a liar! And a cheat. And a manipulator.”

Azriel’s facial expression did not change, though his eyes turned colder and lines bracketed his mouth. His huge hand squeezed the back of her neck and he pulled her roughly to him.

“Apparently,” he gritted out, “we have more to discuss.”

All the other men straightened and made themselves known, watching how he rough handled her, but before anyone could say anything, he half-dragged her back into the room and slammed the door closed. 

“Ow,” Elain attempted to twist out of his hold, but he gripped her tightly and even as she tried to unlatch his hand from her neck, he just held her, though he did not squeeze.

“Clearly, we are not on the same page yet,” he grunted with displeasure. “And you, beautiful, seem to not understand your position,”

“My position?!?! What is my position?! Let go!” she attempted to slap his hands away, but wasn’t successful.

“No. Your position is to understand that this is happening.”

“Nothing is happening. You didn’t even ask for forgiveness!”

“And I won’t,” he warned her. “Don’t expect it.”

He finally released his brutal hold on her arms and she noticed faint purple marks on her skin. Wonderful…

“I know what you want from me,” he said with a sigh.

“And what do I want from you?” she asked, her voice shaking, adrenaline pumping through her and making her feel like she was on drugs. She’d done a couple of lines of cocaine in uni. This felt even worse. 

He scowled and explained, “You want me to tell you that I will be okay. That time will pass and I will grow comfortable being without you. You want me to tell you that I wouldn’t need you like I do right now. That I wouldn’t want you. You want me to tell you that time heals all wounds and that I would move on.”

She was blinking at him, watching his beautiful, devastated face, and how he was shaking his head.

“But the truth is, beautiful,” he gnawed on the inside of his cheek, still shaking his head, as if imagining what that would look like for him–the reality of her not being there. “The truth is that, no, it won’t be okay. Because frankly, I love you too much. And I know that I am a fuck up who probably fucked up any and all chances of actually being with you. Now I see how stupid it was, but I can’t go back and change it. It is what it is. But you need to understand that I wouldn't be okay at all. Because you, Elain, well, you are my endgame. My soulmate. Really the only possible ‘happily ever after’ that there is for me. I am not an easy man to love. I am dick to everyone, or almost everyone. A real twat. And not a simple option for any woman to like, let alone love. Birds have been throwing themselves at me for a decade and I think that screwed things up for me in my head. Not an excuse, I know, but I also know that from the moment I saw you–and I saw your legs first, without even seeing your face–I somehow knew this was it. No more birds for me after I’ve met you. Haven’t even thought of anyone. Haven’t paid attention to a female. When I saw you, I knew that I was going to become a nutter for you and my world would begin and end with you. And to this day, I am absolutely convinced that you are entirely too good for me. I am punching so above my weight I can’t even wrap my mind around it. But you are my person. My only fucking love. The only love I want,” he sounded exhausted and absolutely defeated, as he wiped his eyes and his forehead. “And no, I will not be okay without you, Elain.”

“But you lied to me, and you manipulated me,” she began whispering, “and,”

“And I’d fucking do it again,” he told her, his tone stern, his voice rough. “You want me to beg and grovel? Is that what you want?” he shrugged. “Sure, I’ll do it! If it makes you feel better, I’ll do it. But it’s a waste of time,”

“Why?!” she exclaimed, “are you not sorry for putting me through this?!”

“I’ve put myself through worse,” he argued. “And no, I am not fucking sorry. And yeah, I’ll grovel if that will make you happy, but don’t expect any kind of bullshit of us ‘taking it slow,” he made quotation marks with his fingers, “or me giving you ‘time to decide’ or get ‘in touch with your feelings’, none of that shite,”

“Excuse me?!” she cried out incredulously. 

He stepped closer to her and before she could pull away, he cupped her face between his hands.

“What it means, beautiful,” he said severely, his face grim and intense, “is that the only way you are leaving this building today is as my wife.”

She attempted to step back and get out of his hold, but he squeezed her cheeks tighter and pressed on, “You are marrying me today, Elain.”

“You are insane! I am not,” she screeched, but he shook his head in a firm NO.

“Yes you are. You are becoming Mrs. Night. Today. I am done playing fucking games with you.”

“I am not marrying you!”

“Yes, you are,” he insisted. “And if you aren’t, then it’s me kidnapping you and keeping you in a cage. Like, your choice, baby.” He shrugged nonchalantly. 

“You are completely insane!” she gasped.

“Maybe. But I also love you more than life. Love you more than anything. Yeah, call me obsessed, unhinged, deranged–I’ll accept it. Because I am all those things. Because of you and how I feel about you. And I am sorry, Elain, but I love you selfishly. I love you too much to let you go. So I am not,”

“And if I say ‘no’?” she demanded.

“It would be better if you said yes,” he suggested. “Because then I’d have to do something drastic, and I don’t want to. But I will steal you,” he warned. “I don’t care what it makes me and I don’t care if you think that I am an obsessed freak.”

“You are!”

“So I am.”

Suddenly, he dropped down in front of her to his knees and wrapped his heavy, strong arms around her thighs, burying his face in her belly. She stood still, her arms hanging awkwardly at her sides, a desperate need to touch him and comfort him clawing at her. Unable to help herself, she threaded her fingers through his thick black hair and whispered, “what do you want, Azriel?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just kneeled in front of her, and held her, inhaling the scent of her, his palms gently stroking her bottom. 

“You,” he said at last. “Only you. I only want one thing, Elain. And it’s you.”

She didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything. But then, Azriel looked up at her and asked the same question, “What about you? What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

“I do.”

“Of course you do,” she rolled her eyes at his confidence.

“You want the same thing you’ve wanted for a long time now–me. Deny it or not, it won’t make a difference. We both know that it’s true. You want to be married to me.”

She choked and attempted to say something, but the next moment he shocked her by pulling out a small box and shifting to one knee.

“Always wanted to do this, never thought I’d get the chance,” he muttered under his breath. “Okay, here it goes,” he looked up at her and asked, “marry me, beautiful. Today. Right now. And I promise to be the best husband to you. I will love you and I will be loyal. I’ll respect you. I’ll take care of you. You’ll never want for anything in your life. I’ll make you laugh. I’ll save you, if you need saving. I’ll pick up Pinky’s turds. I’ll participate in all your high society crap with you. I’ll dedicate every goal to you. I’ll fuck all your holes and you’ll love it,”

“Jesus Christ,” Elain gasped, her whole body shaking. 

“I’ll get you pregnant and I’ll be a good father to our children. I’ll cook and I’ll wash dishes…No, we have a dishwasher, so that’s a moot point.”

She couldn’t help but snort a laugh.

“Same for laundry. Also, we can just hire maids and housekeepers because we’re rich. I am not paying you your fee,” he warned. “Your services leave much to be desired, frankly. But the 230 mil–you get that, along with me, because you’ll be my wife. And we are together for life. Maybe we’ll take some longevity shots and live forever! These are my terms. I suggest you accept them.”

Elain scrubbed her face and muttered, 

“This is the worst proposal ever.”

“No it’s not!” he exclaimed, scandalised. 

“It is. It actually included the words ‘fuck all your holes’ and ‘turds’.”

“Practical things,” he shrugged, opening up the little box. Inside, Elain found a lovely ring–not ostentatious or enormous–but a gorgeous pale pink oval diamond set in a flower-like setting. There were little emeralds surrounding it, resembling leaves and tiny pearls for flower buds. 

It was a perfect ring.

Of course.

But then, Azriel knew her. Knew how she was and what she liked and what she wanted. He always knew, without her even telling him.

“The only acceptable answer, Ellie, is a ‘yes’,” he reminded her. 

She bit her lips, looking at him, at the ring, her mind scrambling. 

Finally she asked, “you’ll be honest and true with me, always?”

“Yes,” he nodded.

“And you love me like you say you do?”

“I do. Even more than that.”

She traced his cheekbone with her finger and whispered,

“I love you too. I love you so much that even if parts of me tell me to say ‘no’, I cannot. “

“Your heart won’t allow you to say no to me,” he told her confidently. “It knows you better than your brain does.”

He waited for her and she murmured, “I am scared.”

“Don’t be.”

“Will it be okay? Will we make it?”

“We’ll make it, baby. We were written in the stars a long time ago. Also, I asked your father for your hand as well,”

She gasped, “you did?”

“Of course. I am not a neanderthal.”

That was questionable, but okay.

“Asked him a long time ago,”

“What’s a ‘long time ago’?” she wondered. “We’ve only known each other for a little bit of time.”

Azriel sighed and admitted, “I asked him over Christmas.” 

Elain stuttered. Christmas??

“You asked him and then you broke up with me?!” she cried.

“I never broke up with you,” he corrected her. “I gave you ‘time’,” he scoffed at that. “Something you kept saying you need. So you had your ‘time’ and you were miserable. And now, I am not giving you any more time. By the way, your father gave me his permission to ask you. He told me that I am an ‘unorthodox choice’ for you, but a good choice nevertheless.”

He took her hand and brought it to his lips.

“So tell me?” he asked, “what’s your answer?”

Elain swallowed hard.

What was her answer?

“Yes,” she said clearly. 

Because there was only one answer for them. 

Elain Archeron loved Azriel Night. 

Loved him from the first time he showed up in her office, full of swagger and contempt. She loved him when he was rude to her. She loved him when he was kind. She loved him when he told her the names of the children he was going to have. The children that she’d give him. She loved him because he was loyal and true and good and no matter what, she knew that he’d love her with the same deranged passion until her dying days.

“Alright then,” he grinned. “Let’s get fucking married!”

He placed the ring on her finger and rose to his full height.

“Now, I have to change, pretty girl. I suggest you get your swollen puffy face under control–you don’t want to regret those wedding pictures later on.”

Elain stared at him.

“Are we really doing this now?” she whispered.

“Fuck yeah we are. But before anything happens, I need to talk to my pug.”

Elain straightened her dress, her hands shaking. 

“You gonna hyperventilate and freak out?” he asked seriously, unbuttoning his shirt.

Elain shook her head and then said, “No. Are you really going to marry me?”

He smiled and said,

“You know it, baby.”

She walked to the doors and opened them.

Everyone was there. Were they listening? She wouldn’t put it past them.

“Az!” Cassian yelled loudly. “May I remind you that you said that you wanted to marry a girl who knew how to bake. And Ellie knows how to bake! So technically, yours is a match baked in heaven!”

“For the love of god,” Nesta groaned.

Azriel was laughing.

“You are right! That’s why I am marrying her!”

Cassian’s roughly beautiful face broke into a wide smile.

“Ellie, you said yes?”

Elain extended her arm forward and showed off her new ring to everyone.

“I am happy for you, pumpkin,” her father stepped forward and threw herself in his arms with a sob.

“Now, don’t cry, sweetheart,” he stroked her head. “Rhysand has been kind enough to let me know that the thing is done. And here, I brought your mother’s veil, in case you wanted to wear it. Feyre didn’t get the chance, so I thought that maybe you’d like to.”

-

It's a light relief from a bad habit

It's my mother's cookin' when I can't have it

It's the last train home from the day trippin'

It's the place I know when I start slippin'

Darling, won't you take me home?

Send me shivers somewhere I used to go

Wrap my name across your mouth

When I let my feelings down

Darling, won't you take me home?

Yeah, won't you take me

Tell me, does your mother know? Oh

I still love you, head to toe, yeah

Like the back of my car on a sunny day

You're the song on the radio I never play

You're the words in my soul that I wanna say, yeah, I wanna say

So won't you make me stay?

‘Home’ was the song that Elain Archeron walked down the aisle to the man she loved.

He stood there, grinning, his arms thrown over the shoulders of his brother and his cousin, waiting for her at the end of the road.

She held her sisters’ hands, because for better or worse, they were there for her, come rain or shine. And there were no better people to bring her to her Azriel. 

Her father and Fenris walked ahead of the three sisters, with Piglet between them. 

If there was one creature who was giving Elain away, and trusting her to Azriel, it was Piglet. Her faithful companion. Her friend. Her protector. The one who had saved her just as much as she’d saved him. 

Elain was blinded by tears of happiness, but she’d noticed Lord and Lady Darling, and Dev, and some rough looking men, who she’d assumed were Azriel’s mates from days long gone, and there were his teammates in attendance as well. Her friends were there too, and somehow, she realised that she was always a foregone conclusion, and Azriel knew it. So he chanced inviting everyone to their wedding, because he knew that Elain belonged to him and would become his wife on this day. 

-

Every song that they had danced to was called ‘Home’. 

Their wedding song was ‘Home’ by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros.

“Home is wherever I'm with you,” Azriel whispered in her ear, holding her close to him. He kissed her head and added, “you haven’t stopped crying, you know.”

Elain craned her neck to look up at him and demanded, “kiss me right now!”

He laughed and pressed his lips to hers. It was a slow kiss, relaxed and leisurely. Like he had all the time in the world. And maybe he did.

“I am too happy,” she admitted, her hands wrapped tightly around his neck. “I am overwhelmed and I am too happy.”

“So I guess you did want to marry me?” he teased. 

“Pfff, not even a little!” she argued.

“Obviously.”

Feyre was dancing with Piglet and Fenris. And Dev, much to Cassian’s chagrin, somehow snatched Nesta into a dance. Rhysand had smooth, hip-thrusting moves which caught the eyes of every woman at the party. Too bad he only had eyes for Feyre. 

At that moment, Piglet jumped out of Feyre’s arms and trotted to the newlyweds.

He got up on his hind legs, swaying to the beat and asking to be picked up. Which is what Azriel did. He picked the pug up and pulled Elain closer, so the dog was between them.

“One minute you are asking for her number,” he muttered, “and then next minute, you are a dad to a spoiled dog you never asked for. And you are married.”

The gorgeous black-haired woman who bore a striking resemblance to Azriel and Cassian was introduced to Elain as their mother. 

“Ohmygod,” Elain murmured, watching her father and her new mother-in-law dance rather affably, before they went to drink champagne and giggle.

“Ohmygod,” Azriel echoed, his eyes wide. 

“Are they,”

“Into each other?” he finished her thought. “Looks like it!”

Cassian descended upon the two of them, wrapping his massive arms around their shoulders and grinning like an idiot.

“Ma and your dad are getting it on!”

“They are not getting it on!” Elain gasped. 

“Ha! Looks like there will be a coupla wedding nights tonight,” he winked at them, and then rushed to sweep Nesta off her feet in a dance. She pushed him away a little, but then wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him. Cassian smiled and caged her in his embrace, holding her close.

“Treat my elske well, yeah, mate?” Fenris, tall and imposing, appeared at their side, and gave Azriel a measured look which hid a bit of a warning in it. “You got my first love to fall for you and marry you. But she will always be my first love.”

Instead of arguing or protesting, Azriel pulled Elain close to him, his hand resting on her hip, and extended his other hand to the blond man.

“I promise,” he said seriously.

“Good man. Now, did she tell you that you gotta take her surname now?” Fenris laughed, shaking Azriel’s hand and clapping him on the shoulder.

This was news to Azriel, who turned to look at Elain, confusion written on his face.

“Beautiful?”

She bit her lip and mumbled, “Ummm…well, yes. You have to. It’s, well,”

“I have to become a Mr. Archeron now? Since when?”

“Well, in my family, if a man is of lower rank, he takes the Archeron name…” she explained lamely.

“Well, newlyweds, I’ll let you sort it all out. Welcome to the family, Azriel,” Fenris smiled. “See you at Ascot! Oh yeah, did she tell you? You’ll need to participate in all the fun social events now. She used to drag me when her ginger wasn’t available. Now she has you, Mr. Azriel Archeron.”

“We have to discuss this Archeron thing,” Azriel said, as he watched Fenris greet a stunning woman with striking green eyes. “Can I hyphenate it at least?”

Elain nodded, “Yes. That's alright.”

“Well thank god for that.”

The wedding venue

-

By the end of the day, when Azriel and Elain left the Old Chelsea Town Hall, showered with flower petals, he not only had a new wife at his side, but also a new name.

And somehow, he didn’t mind it one bit. Especially because he shared the name with his son, and his wife. He figured he’d drop the surname of his hateful father, Singer, because he wasn't sure why he was still keeping it, and would make it official:

Azriel Archeron-Night

Elain Archeron-Night

Piglet Pinky Archeron-Night

Only Piglet was staying behind. He wasn’t thrilled. However, Azriel was pretty firm on this–Piglet needed to sit a few days out, while Azriel was going to make his new wife truly his. The things he was going to do to her did not include catering to Piglet’s many whims or waking up at 6:30 in the morning to take him out.

So Piglet was staying behind. 

At first, Feyre volunteered to take him, to which Rhys made horror eyes. His helpless and terrified gaze was caught by Sir Charles, and he beckoned Piglet to him.

“Do you want to stay with grandpa, big boy?”

Piglet considered and then gave an affirmative bark. Yes, he would stay with grandpa. He would like that very much. Because that meant pretty much unlimited snacks, running around in grandpa’s big house, long walks in the park behind the house, and he knew they’d be going to the Connaught Bar where grandpa liked to go every night for a drink, and where Piglet was allowed to sit quietly–which he did. 

“We’ll take care of him,” the lady told Azriel. 

The lady seemed nice, at least at first glance. Piglet would need to do more bonding and see how she was with snacks. But it looked like grandpa liked the lady, so Piglet was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Ma,” Azriel began, but Sir Charles interrupted him and said, “don’t worry about us, son. We’ll take care of the pooch. You take care of my girl.”

We.

Apparently, Sir Charles and Azriel’s mother were going to take care of Piglet together. Azriel wasn’t sure what was happening, but he overheard the man inviting her to Scott’s tomorrow night for dinner. Scott’s was on Sir Charler’s street–only a block away from where he lived. Would there be a…nightcap afterwards? Azriel shuddered. Life was stressful enough: he just got married, he was on the verge of winning the Premier League title with Arsenal, he needed to move house, and he likely was going to be selected for England’s National Team for the Euros in Germany come June. He really couldn’t think of his mother and his father-in-law getting hot-n-heavy in Sir Charles’s mansion. That was too much to take even for Azriel. He already felt like he was a walking heart attack waiting to happen. 

But at least Piglet was sorted out, even though Feyre promised (threatened) to take him to the park tomorrow for a ‘long walk’. Chances were that Feyre would be carrying Piglet through Kensington Palace Gardens herself on her ‘long walk’, but Azriel figured that that was between Piglet and Feyre.

-

Azriel helped Elain into the car, folded her train carefully onto the floor and then got in himself.

He’d left Dev to party and there was one of Lord Darling’s drivers waiting for them.

“Congratulations on your wedding Mr. and Mrs. Night,” the driver greeted them pleasantly. “Where to?”

Elain glanced at Azriel with gentle hope shining in her eyes and he said, “We live in Bloomsbury. Near Russell Square and the British Museum.”

“Certainly, sir,” the driver nodded and pulled away into traffic.

Elain threaded her arm through his and put her head on his shoulder.

“Alright, beautiful?” he asked.

She nodded wordlessly.

“Still happy?”

She nodded again and buried her face in his shoulder. Azriel reached and cupped her cheek in his hand, stroking her gently, before dropping lower and pulling her hair out of its bun. A thick lock curled around his finger and Elain sighed with relief, once the tightness in her scalp lightened. 

Azriel pulled his phone out, and then smiled to himself.

“What?” Elain finally asked, noticing his little smirk.

“Oh, I don’t know…it’s nothing,” he shrugged, but she knew that it wasn’t ‘nothing’.

“Tell meeee,” she whined and he laughed.

“Look,” he showed her the phone. “It started off with Crazy Pug Lady, then I changed it to Pretty Matchmaker,” he explained, as she watched him thumb through his contacts. “By November, it was Az’s Girl,” he chuckled, “and finally, the much maligned Mrs. Night,”

She blushed at that, but he tsked and muttered, 

“Time for one last change?”

She glanced at him quizzically, and then watched his fingers delete Mrs. Night. In turn, he typed a new contact: Wife.

Azriel had all kinds of plans for his wedding night. To say that he hadn’t thought about it–a lot–would be a gigantic lie. He thought about his wedding, and his wedding night all the time. Constantly. Because somehow, he knew that as bizarre as it was at this day and age, he’d have to marry Elain first, before having sex with her. And he was correct. Here he was, married. To the love of his life. His beautiful girl. His proper soulmate. 

What he didn’t expect was for Elain to take charge. 

Once the car pulled to the house and the driver opened the doors for Elain, Azriel rounded the boot and shushed the man to step aside. The driver wasn’t put off, but only smiled and let Azriel scoop Elain into his arms. He threw ‘’night’ to the driver and headed toward the white steps, bounding up pretty quickly. Good thing he thought to grab Elain’s purse on the way out, because otherwise, they’d be locked out right now and that didn’t bode well for the sucking and the fucking that was currently on his mind.

As soon as he opened the door and carried Elain across the threshold, she gently wrapped her arms around his neck and coaxed his face lower, so she could kiss him. Her little eager tongue slipped easily into his mouth and she kissed him hard, impatient hands tugging on his shirt.

None of that virginal, shy, timid behaviour that Azriel came to expect from Elain. He figured that he’d have to cajole and gently sway her into it, and he was prepared to do that. He was prepared to be slow and careful and romantic. He was prepared to worship her, lovingly lick her pussy and make sure that she was comfortable and cared for throughout.

But now, he was reconsidering things. Quickly.

Elain wasn’t acting timid or shy.

The way she was kissing him–possessively, hungrily, deeply, swiping her tongue into his mouth was anything but bashful.

Heat and sweat broke out all over his body, and he grew boiling hot under his suit and his famed self-control all but slipped and disintegrated right then, just as Elain pushed her hand under his shirt, pulling it out from under his trousers with feverish ferocity. 

“I need to see you,” she breathed heavily, “I need to see your body,” she demanded, touching him tentatively, and pressing her palm to his firm abdomen, her flesh hot against his own.

He smiled a smug sort of smile, watching her desperation, and how she trembled against his body.

“And you haven’t seen me naked yet,” he murmured into her panting, soft mouth. Elain stilled mid-kiss and then snorted a laugh. 

“Of course you would say that,” she dragged her nails over the back of his neck. “Is it an implication of the size of your cock?”

“Oh, baby, you know my cock is big,” he winked. “You had copped a feel a time or two,” he reminded her, before wrapping his fingers around her hand and whispering, “care to take this inside the house and not stand in the foyer?”

“So impatient, Mr. Archeron,” she stroked his stomach again, before proceeding to unbutton his shirt slowly. 

“Mrs. Night,” he said casually, watching her long lashes flutter against her cheeks, as she watched his body reveal itself to her, and his thumb skimmed over her bare collarbones. “You have no idea the kind of impatient I am right now. However, the kind of sex I want to have with you isn’t done against the wall of the house entrance next to the coat closet.”

To demonstrate, he leaned against her, pressing his pelvis into her belly, and showing her exactly how desperate he was for her.

“Impressed, sweetness?” he whispered into her ear, before nipping on the earlobe and flicking it with his tongue. 

She swallowed hard and looked up at him. A bit of her bravado had disappeared once she felt the heat of him and the overwhelming size of his 6”5 foot frame and the jumble of muscles that covered his body.

“I want to show you how good sex with a man can actually be. Sex with your husband,” he reminded her heatedly, as if she would forget. “Your Fenris was impressive and I am sure that he is hung like a stallion,”

Elain gasped and blushed profusely, which made Azriel smile. “But,” he continued, “you were young and inexperienced. And your subsequent blokes probably didn’t rock your world. But I am eager to show you, baby,” he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him.

She licked her lips and moaned, “show me then.”

“I will, sweetness. I will.”

Under her long skirt, Elain’s thighs fell apart around his own and he decided to offer her just a taste of what was about to come. So he shifted his leg until the upper part of his thigh pressed into her warmth. Grabbing her hands in his big one, he lifted her arms over her head and pinned her to the wall, and then lifted her skirt up and over her legs, so he could slot his leg in at a better angle.

Elain groaned, her eyes falling shut, her neck arching backwards.

She was hot and damp and he felt her through the material of his trouser, the soft folds parting for him, as he ground her down on his thigh. He dragged his tongue against the flushed skin of her throat, while he moved her hips against him, bucking her down and pushing hard. 

“That’s my girl,” he encouraged. “Rub that pussy over me. Get yourself nice and soaked for me.”

Unable to touch him, she writhed and moaned a long throaty moan, her hips gyrating on his leg, scooting in a way that allowed for the most amount of friction for her clit. 

“Oh god,” she cried out, “I am going to come.”

He nodded, urging her on, strangely proud of the fact that the first act that they experienced as husband and wife in their house was her orgasm. The thought was delicious.

“Two minutes of a bit of rubbing and you are coming already?” he teased. “I fucking can’t wait to do all the things to you.”

“You want my first orgasm to be in the foyer?” she moaned.

He shrugged. 

“I am not denying my wife any orgasms. Take what you need, my love. There are numerous ways that I can make you come. This is just an amuse bouche.”

He didn’t touch her with his fingers yet, but found the plain cotton knickers that she favoured and tugged them upwards, wedging them into her pussy. He sawed them back and forth over her clit, making her shudder and plead for relief. Her hips jerked and she stretched her arms tightly, trying to break free from his grip, which was impossible. But her breasts popped from under her dress and looked down at her, wantonly beautiful and on the edge of orgasm, Azriel couldn’t help but wince at the ache in his cock. He bit her neck sharply, his teeth skimming her pulsing vein.

“I’ve not seen your stunning orgasm face since December. I can’t wait to watch you again,” he grunted into her neck, “and I can’t wait to get inside of you and watch you as you clench my dick.”

Shaking and panting, she came quietly, but powerfully over his leg, her slim fingers squeezing his. 

“That’s my girl,” he kissed her cheeks, her nose, her mouth, “keep coming. You are so beautiful, it’s fucking with my head.”

“I…I’ve never seen you,” she breathed, riding out her climax, “never seen you come,”

“Well you will today,” he promised with a laugh and kissed her again.

“Please,” she murmured, voice almost pleading, her eyes hooded and warm, her cheeks hot. “I want to…”

Azriel felt his cock stir, scenting the heady whiff of her orgasm wafting between the two of them. Releasing her hands, he squeezed her jaw in his fingers and kissed her savagely, his other hand tangling with her unbound hair, and he couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to grip all that gorgeous hair while he fucked her mouth and buried himself fully between those pink lips. He’d make her love it and she’d ask for more.

When he pulled away from her at last, panting for breath, she grunted, “we need to get upstairs”.

He nosed into her neck, murmuring, “you want to get fucked, baby?”

She nodded, clutching at his shoulders, while he caressed her thighs and then hoisted her up, grabbing her ass and giving it a hearty squeeze. Anal. Maybe not today, but eventually. Definitely. Though, considering how things were progressing so far, he wasn’t sure what the night would bring.

“Do you need a drink?” he asked, though he was heading upstairs as he spoke.

She smiled and shook her head. She didn’t need liquid courage. She needed him.

Looking at her, he couldn’t miss the heated look and the flushed cheeks and her messy hair that hung down his forearm.

“Yeah, no drink,” he muttered and she laughed.

“Maybe later,” she offered. “Once you’ve had your way with me.”

“Once I’ve had my way with you,” he promised savagely, “there won’t be any walking for you. For a while.”

“Okay, but please don’t cripple me with your dick,” she requested.

“I won’t, if you are going to be a good girl for me.”

She bit her lip prettily, looking sexy and fetching, and nodded, “I’ll be a good girl”.

He smiled, nodding to himself. 

Elain liked to submit. She was feisty enough in real life, successful, and in control. But she relinquished control when he was around–and he wasn’t sure whether she realised that or not. 

“And I will make you feel wonderful,” he promised, opening the door to her bedroom. Their bedroom, he supposed. Now, it was their bedroom. “And you will fall in love with me even more!”

“You are awfully sure of your magnificent prowess in the sheets,” she chuckled, but he kissed her along the jaw and smiled.

“I’ve got some experience,” he shrugged modestly. “And,” he set her down on the floor, and then reached behind her body, and tugged on the laces that kept her dress in place, “I am in love with you. Which makes me want to outperform myself. But now, I need to get you naked for me.”

He shifted the dress, loosening it around her body, and then pulled it down, and once it pooled around her feet, he offered her his hand in a most chivalrous manner and helped her step out of it. 

True to herself, she was wearing stockings with wide lace bands around her plump thighs and there was no way in hell that he was going to remove them. The knickers were plain white, with lace inserts and even from here, he could see that she was wet for him. Her full, round breasts were stuffed into a strapless bra, which he unclasped in one quick move, tossing it on the floor. It was a shame to watch her generous cleavage disappear, however, once he weighed the soft globes in his palms, he couldn’t think of anything else but watching how they swayed and moved with every touch, and how his thick brown fingers dug into the pale skin. He squeezed them, not gently, unable to help himself. Filling his hands with all that softness felt better than any drug–it was mesmerising to watch how he moulded her flesh to his liking, roughly thumbing her pink nipples, until she moaned a pathetic little ‘Azzzz…” She trembled with pleasure, her skin covered in goosebumps, her heart beating rapidly and loudly–he could see the blood rushing to the surface of her skin and colouring it a pretty pink.

He pulled her nipples hard, twisting them between his fingers, squeezing tightly until she whimpered in pain and gasped, balling her hands at her sides. 

“Oh, it hurts,” she breathed.

“I know,” he told her simply, twisting and pinching her nipples harder, watching them redden between his thumb and forefinger. “You can take it, sweetheart,”

She nodded, licking her lips again. 

After he nearly fisted her the first time, and he only stopped short of cramming his whole hand inside of her up to the wrist, Azriel learned that Elain liked some pain with her pleasure. She liked the discomfort. She wasn’t as vanilla as everyone'd assumed she was. And truthfully, after meeting Fenris, Azriel wasn’t surprised. The huge blond bloke was pretty as fuck, but there was something sordid lurking beneath the handsome visage. The man was into something hard, and Azriel was going to discover what it was later on. But Fenris took Elain’s virginity, and no matter what, he couldn’t have been all gentle and accommodating. It just wasn’t in him, because in Azriel’s case, it took one to know one. 

So, instead of easing his grip on her tits, he asked “more?”

And his good girl nodded and mouthed, “more”.

He pushed her against the wall, so there would be some support for her, and then squeezed her breasts together and dropped to his knees in front of her, bringing them to his mouth. He pulled her swollen nipples deep inside and gave them a rough, hearty suck. He watched her wince, when he worked his tongue and his lips over the puckered buds, biting them, and sucking ferociously, but she only whispered, “Oh, that’s good…Please, my love…”

Yeah she fucking loved it. 

“Hold them for me and feed me,” he grumbled an order and she hurried to squeeze her breasts together and hold them for him as an offering. He palmed her ample behind in his hands, massaging it slowly, enjoying the feel of her skin, the heaviness of her tits in his mouth, the nearness of her body. He dipped his fingertips into her crack and pulled her cheeks apart, slowly at first, and then harder, until he felt around her tiny hole and pressed his fingers around it, feeling how it stretched. 

He pulled his face away from her breasts and her wet nipples glistened next to his cheek. The breasts bounced, and he licked them, until they were wet with his saliva. 

“Baby, anybody fucked your ass?” he asked, knowing the answer in advance.

“Nooo,” she shook her head, glassy-eyed and perfect, panting softly, while he played with her little hole. 

“I’ll have to fuck it, you know that, right?” he said plainly. 

“Yes,” she agreed simply. “Today?”

“We’ll see how your pussy fares,” he rose to his feet, but didn’t release her ass from his grip. “If you can’t take anymore dick in there, you might have to take it in the bum.”

Her eyes lit up with some sort of unholy excitement at his proposal, and she whispered, “I want to be yours.”

“You are mine.”

“You said you’ll fuck all my holes,” she reminded him. “During your god awful proposal.”

He slapped her right ass cheek hard and warned, “keep on talking like that, and I’ll tear your pussy and you asshole.”

She laughed and then stood on her toes and kissed his mouth. 

“I want to see your cock,” she whispered into his lips, kissing him all over his face.

He grabbed her hand and brought it to his groin, letting her feel how hard he was for her.

She squeezed him through his trousers, running her hand up and down his length a few times, before he ordered, “On your knees, beautiful.”

She didn’t question the command, but lowered herself on her knees in front of him. Her knees were on the rug, but he stepped away from her, unbuttoning his trousers, while he grabbed a decorative pillow from the armchair. 

“I am not a monster,” he told her and tossed the pillow down on the floor. 

She sighed with relief and climbed on top of it, her posture relaxing instantly. 

He wasn’t a monster, but he also wanted her to spend a decent amount of time on her knees in front of him, and didn’t want her thinking of anything but his dick, and least of all not about knee pain. 

“Hands on your lap,” he instructed, and she obliged, placing her hands on her lap compliantly and waiting. He knew how to undress quickly, and therefore got rid of everything that he was wearing in less than a minute. Less than 30 seconds more like. 

His massive hand was squeezing the base of his shaft, and still, his cock loomed hard and proud at his navel.

Other than Fen’s, Elain had never found penises attractive. They were utilitarian at best, but mostly ugly and weird looking. 

Her husband’s cock literally made her mouth water.

She swallowed the excess of saliva, unable to tear her eyes from the huge pole that stood tall and thick, the cut of his V a visual guide to all that glory. 6”5, with a glorious dick. She was one absurdly lucky woman. Though the size of him gave her pause for a second. 

He must have noticed a flicker of trepidation on her face, when he came closer and lovingly stroked her head, and then her cheeks. 

“Do you like it, sweetness?”

“It’s beautiful,” she admitted. “But…will it,”

“Fit?”

She nodded, nervously chewing the inside of her cheek.

Azriel scrunched his nose with annoyance. The idea that her previous lovers didn’t wait until she was ready and didn’t take their time to prepare her sufficiently kind of made him rage inside. Well endowed or no, she shouldn’t be concerned, or worse, frightened. He’d have to remedy that. A little pain with her pleasure was one thing, but this wouldn’t do.

“Ellie, who is made for me?” he asked, caressing her mouth with his fingers.

She blinked at him and whispered, “I am.”

“That’s right, pretty girl. You are. So you know I will fit like it’s my god given right. Because we were made for each other.”

“You are such a romantic,” she teased, relaxing in front of him.

“You wouldn’t be saying that when I am fucking your face,” he warned playfully.

“Still a romantic. I know you, Azriel. A man after my own heart.”

Before he could say anything, she opened her mouth for him.

God damn, his wife was perfect.

“No touching, unless I tell you,” he warned, and then rubbed the thick, smooth, pink head of his cock over her lips.

She didn’t move, remaining in the same position, hands folded on her lap.

But the moment he touched her face and her lips with his dick, she lurched to lick at it. 

He slapped her lips lightly, cautioning her, but she licked again, and he whacked his meaty shaft on her face again.

“I want it,” she whined, bouncing on her knees. 

“You are that hungry for cock?” he smirked, his chest expanding from sheer male pride that he was feeling right this moment.

“Please, Az,” she begged, eagerly lapping on the head, pushing the tip of her tongue into the little slit, smearing her lips with precum.

“Please, Az, what?”

“I need it in my mouth,” she pleaded. “I want to suck.”

He placed his hand on the back of her head and then urged his shaft inside her mouth.

“Since you asked so nicely, baby. Show your husband how sorry you are for being bad,” he pushed against her tongue, making her swallow him down. Her brows knitted in defiance, because she still didn’t think that she'd done anything wrong, but he wasn’t going to have this argument with her anymore. Today, his cock is not going to be loving. Today, it was going to be punishing. And maybe, once she learned her lesson, he’d give her loving.

He propped his hand against the wall, holding the back of her head with his other hand and pushed his cock deeper, not allowing her to pull back.

“Watch me as I fuck this bratty little mouth,” he said. “And remember every time you rejected me, turned me away, and argued with me.”

She glared at him, but took him without complaint, her heavy tits swaying with every shove of his cock. Her mouth felt heavenly–warm and wet, and she sucked him noisily and deeply, swallowing a little more with every push of his hips.

He stroked her hollowed cheeks, murmuring, “finally, my ornery girl, with a ring on her finger, my name next to hers, at my feet, her mouth full of my cock. Are you feeling contrite?”

She shook her head no, watching him brazenly with her watery eyes.

He sighed a heavy sigh and said, “Okay. I guess I’ll have to fuck you until you cry.”

And he did. 

He was merciless. 

Tears leaked out of her eyes, and she panted and dug her nails into her knees, moaning over his dick loudly. 

God. There was so much. He was so fucking big. She was feeling lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, her mouth absolutely ravaged by the girth of him. Her throat hurt, because while he didn’t force himself down into her, he pushed steadily, deeper and deeper. 

“Good fucking girl,” he praised. “Are you tired?”

She was, but she wasn’t going to stop. So she shook her head no. She was going to suck for as long as he wanted her to. Because perhaps, she was feeling contrite. Maybe she was sorry. But she wasn’t going to tell him that.

He tsked in warning when she grabbed onto his thighs, squeezing them for purchase. 

“Did I say you can touch?” he gave her a disappointed look, and then pressed his cock deeper. She panicked and cried out, but he stroked her head and whispered, “you are okay. Breathe, breathe,” which she did, panting nervously through her nose. “It feels really good when you gag, sweetness. So I am going to choke you, but hold on to me, so I can feel how you are doing.”

He pulled her head back, holding it tightly in his palm and then stepped over her and pushed his shaft deep. She gagged desperately, but it didn’t feel unpleasant, especially when she looked at his blissed out expression and heard him muttering, “fuck it’s good…oh fuck, fuck…” She loved him and wanted to give him pleasure, and if this is what he enjoyed, then she was going to accommodate him. 

She stroked his firm, muscular ass–the thing could probably crack a handful of walnuts all at once. While he continued to fuck her mouth, she gently tiptoed her fingers closer to his hole and pressed on it. He stiffened between her lips and looked down. She looked for approval and he smiled at her, “Fuck, you look gorgeous. My dick in your mouth is exactly where it belongs.” He wiped her tears and told her, “suck me off, sweetness. Show me how hard you’ll work for me.”

The pressure on her skull finally eased and she was able to swallow him deeply and began sucking, bobbing her head on him. He grunted above her with enjoyment, and rasped quietly, “dip your pretty fingers in your pussy.”

She scrambled to obey, and smeared her fingers with her wetness.

“You know what to do,” he said then, waiting. She did. She wasn’t sure if he was into it, but apparently he was. Without breaking her steady rhythm, she parted his cheeks and carefully pressed her wet fingers inside of him. He tensed, as she worked them deeper inside and she noticed the whiteness of his knuckles. He was holding on by a thread. And Elain was very pleased. Because she did this. She drove him to the brink and it was clear that he was just about losing his mind. She pumped him firmly, sucking on his cock, and finding the spot inside of him which made him shudder and moan. He wasn’t particularly vocal in bed, but this stimulation unleashed him and his hips buckled against her. He wanted to last longer, but he knew that the future was bright and he could indulge in this play as frequently as he wanted. Thank fuck.

So he thrust hard down her throat and ground out, “choke”. The added vibrations inside her gurgling throat brought him over the edge and he came so hard, he was afraid he was going to black out. His new wife with his dick in her mouth, and he, unconscious on the floor. Whatta wedding night…afternoon.

He watched her suck on him, her throat contracting as she swallowed. “Show me,” he asked and she opened her mouth and showed him her cum-stained tongue. 

“My good girl. Swallow everything,” he urged unnecessarily. Of course she was going to swallow everything. “Holy shit, you are brilliant,” he vowed, caressing and stroking her. 

She smiled at him and he gave her his arm, lifting her off the floor.

“This was the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten,” he admitted.

She wiped her lips with the back of her hand and smirked, “I am glad you liked it, husband.”

He wrapped his arms tightly around her and pressed his lips to hers.

“Say it again,” he hissed, almost crushing her against his chest. 

“I am glad,”

“No not that!”

“That you liked it?” she teased.

“Wife!”

“Yes, husband?”

“That’s better.”

He pushed her towards the bed and then tossed her on it unceremoniously.

“I need to eat your pussy, or I will die,” he declared dramatically.

“Die?”

“Do you want to be a widow?”

She frowned at his words and then smacked his shoulder. 

“If you don’t stop saying stupid things, I will kick you in the dick!” she threatened.

“Sorry baby,” 

He lay her on the bed and kissed her belly.

“See, this is me being contrite,” he told her, sliding her damp panties down her legs and leaving her naked except for her stockings. He placed an open mouth kiss right on her bare slit and dragged his tongue from her back hole to her clit. “Do you want to try it?” he offered. “It’s easy.”

“I am not sorry!” she told him stubbornly, grabbing the plush duvet in her fists and arching her back for him.

He pushed her knees apart, almost pressing them to the bed and kissed her pussy again.

“Spread yourself for me,” he requested, his breath fanning over her damp skin.

She blushed, which was kind of silly, because she was laid out in front of him bare and spread, but this somehow, was too much.

“You just spent twenty minutes being gagged with my dick in your throat, and now you are shy?” he cocked his brow at her.

She bit her lip, but wordlessly spread herself, pulling her folds far apart and exposing herself completely.

“That’s right, beautiful,” he moaned, “that’s perfect. No secrets between us. Nothing unsaid. Nothing unseen. You are mine and I am yours. The way it should be.”

“Az,” she breathed, feeling vulnerable and uncovered, and yet, trusting him for some reason. He might not deserve her trust, not yet, not everything that he’s pulled, but she couldn’t help it. At the end of the day, he did right by her. Married her. Trusted her. 

He tongued her clit steadily and it felt amazing, but she looked down at him and whispered, 

“Az, I know you will die if you don’t eat my pussy,” she laughed softly.

“Yeah,” he concurred, slurping her down.

“But I need you inside of me. Please. I want to be your wife in every sense of the word. I’ve waited for so long for you. And now you are here. And I can’t wait anymore.”

He sat back on his hunches and his thumb replaced his tongue, as he looked at her from between her legs.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. 

“You think you are ready?”

“I’ve been ready since before Halloween,” she chuckled.

He grabbed his cock and gave it a few long, leisurely strokes, while she watched him with desperate hunger in her eyes.

“I want you inside of me,” she begged softly. He crawled over her and squeezed her throat gently, before kissing her deeply.

“Anything you want, my love. Anything for my wife.”

He licked her soft breasts and then lightly slapped them with his dick, poking her nipple with its blunt head. He lifted her breast up and said, “suck” and she licked on her own nipple, craning her head down. He pushed the cockhead inside, and closed his hand over her chin, making her suck both her nipple and the tip of his cock. 

“Good girl,” was all he said, watching her with a blazing gaze of absolute devotion. “The things we’ll do together,” he added dreamily. His imagination had no bounds when he thought of his wife and their sex life.

She popped her nipple and his cock out of her mouth and kissed the tip, saying, “take me, husband”.

It was an invitation that Azriel couldn’t resist.

He rubbed himself briefly and then kissed her lips slowly.

“I will go slow, beautiful. You are probably tight as fuck, so I want to make this count, and I want to make this last, alright?”

“Yes, Az, I want you so much I feel like I am going to burst,” she complained.

He pressed against her, rubbing his shaft in her slick, before sliding slowly inside.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, almost in surprise? “Oh…tight…”

Tight didn’t even begin to describe how incredible she felt. 

He seriously considered the possibility that he was going to blow his load before he was even fully inside of her. And that’s despite having come only ten minutes ago. Jesus fuck.

The blissful tightness was indescribable, and he shuddered like a dog, trying to pace himself.

Her nose was scrunched and she scowled adorably, before he stopped, allowing her time to get acquainted with the sensation and kissed her lovingly.

“You are amazing, Ellie. How are you doing?”

“You are huge!” she blurted out and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Sorry, sweetness. Nothing I can do about that. Does it hurt?”

“It’s so fucking tight!”

“You are telling me!” he smiled, but then lay his palm on her stomach and stroked her lightly.

“Look at me,” he ordered, “and relax. You are tensing up. I am yours, beautiful. No need to be nervous.”

She exhaled heavily, following his instruction, and attempting to ease against him. He was insanely hot and thick, and despite the pressure, he felt mind-numbingly good. Her walls stretched, as he pushed his way in, and when he pushed his hand onto her mound and pressed his thumb to her clit, she moaned with pleasure.

“That’s right, sweetness,” he urged her on. “Pussy was made to please me.”

He sank deeper and deeper, pressing forward firmly, but without aggression. “Open up for me, Ellie.”

She helped him out, lowering her hips down onto him, panting loudly, while he rubbed her clit and finally bottomed out. His balls pressed to her ass and the entirety of his enormous shaft was lodged inside. 

She closed her eyes, and expelled a tortured, deep moan of pleasure.

“Finally in you, my Elain,” he breathed, cupping her face in his hand. “My god.”

“Finally in me,” she echoed him. “I love it. I love it so much.”

He fucked her then. Not fast, but driving each thrust hard into her. His hand was on her face, the scarred, uneven surface of his fingers tracing the hollow of her cheek. He touched her face, her lips, until he wrapped his arm around her head, holding her in the crook of his elbow. He watched her let go then, and become focussed only on that moment. The heaviness of him, the weight of his muscles and bones, and the heat of his skin, the pressure of his fingers on her hip, as he dug deep into her skin, and the sensation of his shaft filling her seemed to be the only things that mattered to her in that moment. 

“Make me feel like you’ll never let me go,” she moaned.

“I will never let you go,” he promised.

Shifting her hips on his cock, he made her groan, as she clawed at his bicep, because he hit that spot. And it seemed like no one else’s done this before, judging by the awed expression on her face. 

“You like that?” he smiled, kissing her and thrusting hard. 

“You are so deep,” she gushed. “The deepest.”

“I should hope so. I do have a long dick.”

But he looked prideful and satisfied by her comment. 

He picked up the pace then, driving into her smoothly and with single-minded intent. Her stocking-clad legs wanted to wrap around him, but he preferred to keep her open, so he could watch his dark shaft slide in and out of her pinkiness. He threw her knees over his elbows, keeping her nice and pliant and loose. 

It felt good. 

Just fucking her like this. Nice and deep and steady. 

He could enjoy the moment, watching her beautiful face, her messy hair, her breasts which jumped and bounced steadily from his thrusts. 

Their bodies slapped and rubbed together, and he loved the sexual sounds that they were making together. She bowed beneath him, arms thrown above her head, grabbing the edge of the pillow, eyes closed. 

“Do you want me to play with your clit?” he offered but she shook her head and said, 

“No. Just keep going like this. It’s too good. I never want it to stop.”

Ditto.

Azriel. Her husband. Her love. Her dream. Her forever. 

She didn’t want to come, but she couldn't stop the tidal wave of pleasure engulfing her.

He caught on to that and pulled himself higher, grabbing the padded headboard with his left hand, and gaining more leverage. His hips drove into her with increased speed, though he didn’t break his rhythm. 

“Az,” she whispered his name and he tucked his face against her cheek, listening to her laboured breathing, wanting to hear her say it again. And again. 

“My Az,” she repeated softly, worshipfully. “My husband.”

“Yours, Elain. Always yours.”

He felt when she came for him, her tightness squeezing over him, drinking from him, pulling him deeper. Her arm fell over his shoulders, holding him to her. 

Her muscles were still quaking, when he released a pleasured moan, enjoying her complete disintegration beneath him, while he found his own climax and came hard and deep inside of her. They were both bare to each other–soul and cock and cunt. 

He wasn’t ready to think about children yet, but he wouldn’t have minded if the outcome would result in a baby. If his seed found the way, then so be it.

He kissed her slowly, still spasming inside of her, his pelvis nestled next to hers. 

“I love you, beautiful,” he whispered, throwing her leg over his hip and keeping his spent cock inside.

When he looked at her, he saw that she was in tears.

“Oh my god, Ellie, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” he asked in a panic.

She held onto him and said, tears rolling down her cheeks,

“I am in love with you.”

Relief flooded him, but he only stroked her face and said, “I am in love with you too.”

-

Behind the windows, the sun was setting.

London.

A black pearl of a city surrounded by the brightest green of emeralds, cut in half by the cobalt ribbon of the Thames. 

London.

Not agreeable. Not easy. Not forgettable. Always magnificent.

London. Where a bad day is still better than most good days anywhere else.

London. Where dreams are made and crushed, where surprising matches are made in the convoluted and circuitous corners, where a footballer and a Lady can find their own heaven.

London was home.

-

“You. It was always you. Even before I knew you. It was you when I first heard your voice. It was you when I saw your face. It was you that I had asked about, when I asked the eternal question–is this love? And the answer was yes. It’s love. And the one that I love is you.”

[sadsongbird]

Some ethereal rose-themed treats to indulge in this summer🌷:

🌸 Rose pistachio milk cake

🌸 Rose milk mousse

🌸 Spiced rose latte

🌸 Rose pistachio ice cream

🌸 Rose pistachio cupcakes

🌸 Rose cheesecake truffles

Most of these are relatively easy to make and they sound absolutely delightful!

[lunar-nebulari]

Everyone Shut Up.

What are SMH's favorite Sanrio characters?

[januaryembrs]

MAGIC BROWNIE | Eddie Munson x Sunshine!Reader

Description: Sunshine girl accidentally eats one of Eddie’s “Magic Brownies” and he takes care of his baked girlfriend.

Word count: 3.3k

Trigger Warnings: weed obviously, accidental drug usage, quick mention of child neglect when talking about Eddie as a kid not eating enough. Reader gets undressed but no sex (eddie has a horny thought however)

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This was not how he had expected their day to go. She loved baking for him and Wayne, loved making sure her scrawny, lanky boyfriend was fed, and boy could he eat. Wayne swore he had the stomach(s) of a cow. Any food left on his plate? Give it to Eds. Food ready to go out of date? Nope, Eds is already scarfing it down. Weekly food shop was just brought in? Munson is dining like a king before the fridge door is even open.

Maybe it was from when he lived with his dad and he would forget to feed the little, jet black haired boy for days on end and he would have to be given half his teacher’s lunch when they saw how gaunt he was through his mop of curls. Maybe he had yet to adjust to the idea that he would still have food without storing it for winter like a damn bear, either way she never dared to think about her sweet Eds and his kind uncle going hungry on weeks when money was tight.

But when dessert became an option, Eddie’s sweet tooth was in heaven.

They had the house to themselves on Sundays; Wayne was always pulling doubles on a weekend to make up the extra cash, the garage was always busiest then. They already had leftovers from last night to sort them for the evening, so what else better than to cook than a thick tray of rich brownies she’d practised not even a week earlier.

Unbeknownst to her, Eddie had done his own kind of baking.

“Okay, be there for seven,” He said into the corded phone, biting at his nail as he thought. Nodding to himself, before remembering they couldn’t see him, he hummed a goodbye and hung up the phone.

“Who was that?” She asked, emerging from the loo with freshly wet hands, wiping them on her jeans as she tied the pretty little pink apron around her waist again. Watching her lean down to open the oven door, he smiled to himself, handing her the matching oven mitts.

“No one,” He muttered, shamelessly watching her ass as she bent down to pick out the hot tray, “Just got a package to drop off later,”

“What, like to the post office?” She asked, her eyes flicking to him innocently, shoving the pan out for him to smell.

Smiling toothily at her, as if he knew a secret she didn’t, he kissed her forehead sweetly. “Where else would I take a package, sweet girl?” He murmured, before shoving his finger in the centre of the chocolatey goodness with a childish raspberry blown through his cherry lips.

Hissing when his finger met the hot sugar in the centre, he shoved the digit into his mouth with a groan of delight and pain.

“It’s still hot, honey,” She scolded, putting the tray onto the side to assist the frowning boy.

“You’re still hot, baby,” He said, his words distorted by his finger being in the way of his tongue. Pulling it from his mouth, she inspected the spit covered skin carefully, seeing where it raised red slightly.

Giggling at his words, she kissed the tip gently, unaware of the way his eyes seemed to follow the way her mouth pressed to his burn so carefully, feeling his tummy shiver at his girlfriend's pure actions.

“Feel better Eds?” She asked, looking up at him with hopeful eyes, his tongue going dry immediately. His chin bobbed for a second, scrambling for words, before he nodded wordlessly, turning away from her before she could see the way his cheeks blazed a rosy heat of their own.

“Um, I just gotta-” He stammered, heading for his room as she pulled out a sharp knife to cut the slab into segments. His mouth was dry as he dug out the brownies he’d made himself two days prior, though these weren’t as chocolatey as his sweet girlfriend’s and more rammed to high (ha) heavens full of weed.

Did he prefer the taste of hers? Yes, any day of the week she was an amazing cook. Had he burnt the top and left a thick crust whilst somehow managing to undercook the middle? Yes, though he was still at odds with himself just how he’d done so. But were his little gooey creations going to see him and Wayne through two weeks of rent? Absolutely.

Dashing back to the kitchen with the blue tupperware under his arm, he stopped long enough to see her transferring them into some kitchen paper inside her own container, her fingers gentle enough to carve ice let alone handle confectionery.

“I’ll be right back, just gotta take care of some things. How about I swing by Family Video on the way back and rent us The Shining?” He asked, a large, scuffed hand coming up to her face to cup her cheek, brushing away the flour that dusted her eyebrow.

She scrunched up her nose, but kept his doe gaze nevertheless, big, Bambi browns staring down at her, entranced.

“I dunno, Eds. I like those films but they always make me wanna puke afterwards,” She said, lips twisting in disgust, “Plus I get kinda scared when Wayne’s not home anyway, I don’t wanna be thinking of crazy axe wielders. Hawkins is crazy enough as it is,”

Putting the tupperware on the side, next to her pretty pink one, he took her warm cheeks in his grasp and tugged her face closer.

“Which is where I come and hold your hair back and protect you from the intruders, silly girl,” He asked, a kiss going to the tip of her nose, “What does my lady want instead then? Gremlins?” Another to her forehead, “The Lost Boys?” There goes another to her chin of all places, “Labyrinth? Come on, I know you have the hots for Bowie as a Goblin King ya’ little freak,” He blew a raspberry on the apple of her cheek, a big wet kiss following it.

Giggling some more and shoving him away, rubbing her face on her shoulder, “How about E.T?” She asked, her hands coming to rest on his wrists.

He stilled, eyes wide with his own grimace. “E.T? Now that’s a scary movie,” He said, watching his girlfriend roll her eyes and smirk, “I’m serious. That wrinkly mother fucker gave me nightmares, with his extendable neck and his weird eyes and shit-”

“Alright, alright, Labyrinth it is.” She conceded, leaning on her toes to kiss him sweetly on the mouth, “I’ll still need you to hold my hand all night, alright Goblin King?” She asked, watching his cheeks flush as she leaned in closer to him, “Movie night rules, unfortunately,”

He couldn’t remember if he’d said anything, just that his mouth had moved in some kind of agreeing motion, his eyes trained on the way she licked her pretty lips as she leaned in for another kiss. Two years together and she still had his heart hammering away behind his ribcage whenever she kissed him.

He barely remembered getting in his van with the package, its hot pink lip staring at him from the passenger seat, the thought of her shampoo smell invading his nose whenever she got so close he could see each individual pigment in her eye. He barely remembered dropping it off, other than taking the money and wishing his customer a good evening, “I know I will be,” He said under his breath, flooring it to Family Video.

“One Goblin King and empty hand at your request, fair maiden,” Eddie said, practically tumbling through the door, his van all but ditched in the driveway. Looking around for his sweet girlfriend, he furrowed his brow when he heard not even a peep in response. Usually she would be bouncing over to him with a kiss ready on her lips made just for him, maybe even a bowl of warm, buttery popcorn if he was really lucky.

But nothing.

Twitching the curtains, he made sure her car was in the drive, and just as he’d thought, she’d not left. So where in hell's gates was she?

“Baby?” He called through the small trailer, his panic starting to set in. Surely an intruder would have taken jewellery or money, not a whole woman for christ sakes. Maybe it was the past few years with the Lab being shut down for its dangerous radiation, or the talk of the Russian’s invading their little town, or even that Summer kids went missing from their friend’s pool party, he didn’t know. She was probably just waiting behind the door to jump out at him, or some dumb trick like that. She probably was just in his bedroom getting changed or something like that.

He had never moved through the little hallway so fast, hating how quiet it was.

His heart dropped when he saw his tiny room empty. His unmade bed that he had never seen looking smart sent him over the edge. Was there a struggle? Had his wardrobe door always open? Of course it was, he was a master of leaving things unfinished. He’d leave a sandwich without filling if he wasn’t always so damn hungry. No, he was being silly. There was nothing off about his room, nothing that screamed kidnap other than the god damn silence- why was it so damn quiet-

Then he heard a creak from the bathroom, and it was like his chest took a xanax. “You in there, honey?” He called, doubling back on himself to stand outside the white door, leaning in closer to hear inside. Hearing still no response, he practically melded with the wood, cheek squished against the cold wall, “Baby?”

Nothing, nothing but slight movement from the other side.

Huffing, he reached for the handle, “I’m gonna come in, alright? I’m just checking you’re okay, I’m not a peeping Tom or anything-“

Their bathroom was tiny, was only there for usage over luxury, but it was cosy. Yet, it couldn’t have prepared Eddie for the odd sight. His girlfriend, seemingly playing with something in her hands, fully clothed in a half filled bath, her denim jeans submerged, socks still on her feet, top floating riding up to her chest with the water pressure.

Staring at the back of her head for a moment, the confusion clear on his face, he looked around for anything that could help explain the odd situation, before his eyes fell back on her.

“You alright, honey?” He asked, approaching her carefully, though it took all of one step to make it to the small, PVC tub. Her head lolled to rest against the wall, and she seemed to have only just noticed him standing there.

“Edsy!” She said, smiling dopily up at him, “I was wondering where you got off to,”

Chuckling unsurely, he rested his hand on top of her head, giving her a gentle stroke. “You alright there, Little Mermaid?”

She snorted, reaching up to show him her hands, “I was just painting my nails, see?” Except all he saw was red marker pen drawn over her fingertips, the nails more akin to a toddler coming home from preschool. Thinking she was kidding, he smirked.

“Beautiful baby-” He stopped himself, the smile dropping in an instant when he finally met her eyes. She went to look away, her hand holding the red crayola pen tightly to continue her artwork, but his hand shot out to grab her chin. “Wait, wait, wait. Look at me,” He swore he had never sounded so serious.

She blinked up at him after a moment, again as if taking a second to compute his order, and looked up at him with droopy lids. Smiling at him sweetly, his gaze locked in on her red corneas, bloodshot and absolutely baked expression.

“Baby, are you high? Did you go under my bed?” He asked seriously, turning her head to the streetlight filtering through the window to get a better look.

“Why would I do that, Eds?” She asked, her words drawling, quieting as she ended her sentence as if she hadn’t the energy to finish. “I just had a couple of the brownies I made and started feeling warm and didn’t wanna be sweaty when you got home-”

Hand flying to stroke his temple, he gently caressed his girlfriend’s face, understanding her issue. He must have taken the wrong fucking box.

“Oh baby, oh my sweet girl. I am so sorry.” Taking her head into his chest, he pressed a kiss to her parting. “I’ve spiked my own girlfriend, new fucking low Munson,”

“-ddie,” Her voice was muffled from his Hellfire shirt, “We gonna watch Jared?”

“Jareth, honey,” He sighed, looking down at his stoned girlfriend with a concealed smile. He felt guiltier than a sinner in church but god was she cute high. “Come on, let’s get you dry,”

Hoisting her out of the tub with his hands under her arms, he got her to take off her jeans and top as he held up a large bath towel as a curtain between the two of them, wanting to give her some level of privacy. Hearing her clothes hit the floor with a heavy thud, he wrapped her body with the big towel, feeling her hands in his hair as he helped her into his room, her feet shuffling obediently.

“Now the movie?” She asked, plopping herself down on the bed, her eyes lazily scanning over his walls of posters as if she wasn’t here three times a week. Digging around in his bottom draw for spare clothes, he tried to hide his snort as she nudged at his butt with her foot. “Eddie, now the movie?”

“Nearly, baby,” He said, handing her a grey shirt and boxers big enough to fit comfily on her. “Gonna get you a bit comfier first, I’ll make you some mac and cheese,”

“But I’m not hungry,” She said, tugging the shirt over her head with a whine, before flopping back, feeling dizzy, “You do the legs for me,”

“Huh?” Eddie asked, blushing when she spread her legs and gestured to him with the boxers in her hand.

“You do the legs, my head feels funny,” She mumbled, spreading her arms out on the bed, fingers digging into the fluffy duvet. He knew it was probably soft under her dulled touch.

Eddie and her had been intimate many times before. Hell, they’d had sex before they’d even reached the one month mark, but having her ask him to take her underwear off, even so innocently, had his face red as a saint.

“Alright, honey. I’m gonna make you feel better, get you some water.” He said, hoping she couldn’t feel how his hands shook as he slipped her underwear down her legs, avoiding looking at her private parts for her dignity’s sake, “And trust me you’ll want something to eat in an hour or two,”

“If you say so, Eds,” She murmured as he gently held her ankle to put her foot through the leg hole, doing the same to the other and pulling them over the meat of her thighs that had his mouth watering. Giving her knee a little kiss (he tried to stop himself, he did) he asked her to sit up a little so he could bring the underwear all the way up.

He couldn’t help give the softness of her stomach a kiss too as he rose to see how she was doing, smiling softly when he saw her sleepy eyes regard him with a little smile of her own.

“Tired?” He near whispered, stroking her warm cheeky with his knuckle gently. She shook her head, blinking harshly when it made her vision blurry.

“No, just feel funny,” She said, grabbing onto his wrist to keep his cool hands on her face, “But good funny. I think. Just funny,”

“How many did you have, baby?” He asked, holding onto her hand as she sat up, watching her head tip slightly at the movement, as if he could tell how heavy every part of her felt. He knew the stages of edible high well; he and Keith had been hooked on them in tenth grade, but his sweet girlfriend knew nothing about any of his ‘Magic Brownies’ he sold, and he’d intended to keep it that way until now.

“Two, I think. I think I had a bite of a third and I started feeling weird so I stopped. I thought I just had a lot of chocolate.” She said, head pressed against his shoulder as he led her to the kitchen, “Eddie, my feet are cold,”

“Oh, shit, your socks,” He cursed, heading towards the sofa. “I’ll fix you up, don’t worry honey,” He said, gently helping her sit down, her body all but dead weight.

She murmured something as he pulled away, and he could only give her hand a peck before he was rushing around, grabbing her things that would make her feel better. Fluffy socks to calm her, make her comfy, water for when her mouth got dry, plain tortilla chips for when she started getting hungry while he’d cook her some real food. He all but scowled at the weed confectionary as he passed it, hating the fact he had unknowingly gotten his girlfriend into such a state.

He took barely five minutes before he gently rolled the socks onto her cold feet, throwing himself back down next to her, her head lolling to look up at him through heavy lids.

“We watch Jared now?” She asked, burrowing her face into his shirt.

“We watch Jared now.” He confirmed, chuckling when he felt her try to press herself even further into him, her nose jabbing into his ribs, “What are you doing?”

“Wanna crawl inside your skin, I’m not close enough out here,” She murmured, and Eddie smiled widely down at her, pressing play on the remote.

“I’m gonna pretend that wasn’t mildly creepy, baby,” He said, his arm wrapping around her to keep her close, feeling her melt into his side, “I got you some water for when your mouth goes cottony,”

“Huh?” She said, though her eyes were zeroed in on the screen, his words a jumble in her ears. Nosing her hair line, he chuckled, kissing the tip of her ear and stroking her arm.

“Nothing, just watch your film, honey,” He said, his words a sugary glaze as he looked down at her zombie-like expression.

He had a lot of ass kissing to do in the morning.

PERMANENT TAG LIST:

@greeneyedblondie44 @liadamerondjarin @pedrosgirlx @andy-rocks @musicartmayheminmyheart @howlerwolfmax @ciarra–mae @lou-la-lou

[kosije]

c/w ★ ׂ duke!miguel x fem!afab reader. smut. all smut. miguel tries to exercise restraint. spoiler alert: he fails. sins in silk extra <3

duke!miguel o'hara: who enjoys taking you in the most compromising of places.

he'll fuck you in the garden, behind the tall bushes of flowers taunting you on how loud you're getting.

"oh princess, i don't think it would fool anyone if they heard the flowers calling my name. if you can't bite your tongue, even the k-kingdom next door will hear of this."

"heavens," he groans. "i bet you'd like that, huh? want everyone to know how you have the best fucking cunt, yeah?" he all but moans into the back of your neck. "too bad it's all for me."

he'll excuse himself from the table just to eat you out inside the kitchen storage room, away from your father, his colleagues, and the cooks.

messily making out with your puffy pussy, moaning into your mound when your hand pulls on his hair. "m' baby needs 't don't she?" he slurs like a drunk man. his large hands wrap around, digging into the meat of your thighs only to pull himself in deeper. you're having trouble keeping your voice down, but thankfully the kitchen is a mess of noise and masks your low mewls and his groans completely.

he sneaks back to the table while you to your chambers, but you don't miss his cheeky "oh, im afraid i've already eaten dessert."

his favorite place, however, is the place he took you for the first time. he takes his time in those moments. working you up, till you almost break, then taking you apart only to put you back together over and over again.

slowly licks up your neck, with your legs fold in front of you, he pistons himself in and out of you. your antsy hands drop from your thighs to his back, up to his neck, and down into the sheets, crying out at how deep he fucks you—at how much you can see how he's been needing you. how he's been missing you.

it's in the way he kisses and worships your body, the way he whimpers whenever he's inside you, how he looks at you, even while around so many people at your father's party. how big they got when they saw you, how wrinkled the sides were when he smiled. in the way he holds you after he's fucked you—tight and warm. how he nuzzles into your neck, kissing your shoulder, completely flush to you.

but you're no better. calling out for him whenever you touch yourself, wearing his favorite color every time he comes around, with matching panties. how you wrap your hands over his arms, kissing the meat of them. how you hide little gifts, sonnets you've worked, sweets you've baked, intimates you've worn. and the way when he writes you back, "thanking you," you feel like you could die.

it's easy to secretly write about him. gush to yourself about your scandalous love with "mr. frown," you write for hours. tuck them safely into the hole inside your closet that you made when you were younger. you write all the days you don't see him, and when you do you always have to mention something from them.

"i wish time would stop when we are together, so we can see what forever feels like."

"i need you more and more every time we part. you take a piece of me with you i desperately need back. that spins and leaps inside of you when you see him again.

"if only you'd stay tonight, then my room wouldn't feel so empty."

when you tell him this, with that sparkly look in your eyes, he pauses. looking you over.

"it won't be good for us, princess."

"why is that?"

"i won't—i won't be able to control myself, just not safe for us."

"you don't know that," you all but plead. "you have to at least be curious, of what can happen if we try?"

he understands what you're referring to because those same thoughts bounce around his mind whenever he's alone, missing you. those pestering "what if's," that keep him up, keep him wondering. the ones that eat at his resolve.

so even though it's risky, and is no good for him at all, he sinks back into your bed. kisses the back of your neck, nosing your baby hairs, and whispers a weak, "i can never say no to you"

and for a night, you two don't have to spend it missing something.

[andersonfilms]

feat. anderson's treats & baker!abby

abby who owns a bakery shop and you have an insatiable sweet tooth that never seems to end, a match made in heaven. your first date being in her shop she closes for the night, anderson’s treats, flour anxiously spread across her cheeks, she’s blushing furiously as you watch her, careful hands kneading the dough as you gaze at her with a certain sparkle in her eye as abby speaks about what got her into baking in the first place. 

then, curiosity gets the best of abby and she’s asking you questions about yourself, maybe she gets you to assist her, the butterflies in your stomach swarm as she tells lame jokes no one should really find funny but you do. with skillful hands, she makes you her favorite, one her shop is known for. it crumbles deliciously in her mouth, but the filling comes out as it coats the corner of your mouth, leaving her to use her thumb to wipe the strawberry filling away. with intentful innocence, she brings it to her lips. your deep, curious eyes inquiring at her mouth, full pink lips sucking the strawberry away. it’s only then she’s realized what’s been done. 

burning bright and red, the blush noticeable from a mile away. it’s when you notice the scar on her cheek and it makes you wonder how she got it and maybe you’ll ask her at another time but you don’t want to dismiss the moment. abby anderson, looking upon you with a blinding smile, giggles. airy and light, as if her laughter is the dough you’re kneading. the delightful substance infused into your bloodstream, needed as much as the blood pumping through your veins. 

as delightful as it is, it’s still a distraction. you think of her instead of the task she’s so cutely assigned you to. 

as you visibly struggling to knead the dough correctly. abby thinks it’s cute, but she decides to assist you. “here, let me—” the blonde maneuvers her frame around you, arms practically wrapped around your waist as she places her warm hands on top of your own. her voice sends a sensational shiver down your spine. “oh!”

abby chuckles but offers nothing else to say as she shows how to do it correctly. the feeling comes natural to her and she passes along her natural instinct but all you can think about is how she feels, her words coaching you in your ear as abby’s breath causes goosebumps to soothe every inch of your skin. 

“yeah, just like that. you’re a natural baby.” she kisses your cheek sweetly. she smirks as you lean back to her, finding comfort in the safety of her warmth. a homecoming, a sense of it settled in your heart, one only she could’ve brought to a full bloom.

OKAY BAKER!AU??? I MIGHT NEED TO EXPLORE THIS MORE GAHHHHHDKJF ♡

tags: @plutolovesyou @brackishkittie @nybueckers @only4theweeknd @tlouloser @marvelwomenarehot0 @grey-jedi12 @r3starttt @bittersu1te @pxgeturner @maxinephobia @marsworldd @aouiaa @mytwoseater @cherrybunny @twopeoplee @i-lov3-w0men @lvlymicha @half-of-gay

wanna be tagged?

[pinkroseblooms]

obsessedloner!Choso/chubby!f!Reader pt.2

Summary: in the second part to this modern college au, obsessive loner!Choso goes too far; reader deals with the consequences of his need to keep you close to him and him alone when he feels like you're at risk of gaining the attentions of an even more popular classmate. Yet another self indulgent piece of work, but sue me, I couldn't stop writing this all day. Enjoy!

Warnings: toxic behavior, obsessive/possessive behavior, jealousy, emotional manipulation, smut, mating press, rough sex, hurt/comfort, talks of low self esteem, clingy, needy!Choso, begging, crying, break downs, and borderline yandere!Choso, and other less than healthy relationship dynamics.

wc: 5.3k

The birthday cake was placed on the teacher’s desk: the majority of your speech class had decided that since Satoru Gojo’s birthday was coinciding with the last week of exams before break, it would be fun to have a small party. You volunteered to bake the cake; the professor gave permission to use his classroom that afternoon, with the condition the space was tidied up afterward and things didn’t get too rowdy. It was going to be a nice opportunity to celebrate the coming holiday season and the student who was arguably the school’s golden boy. Even those who didn’t like Gojo’s flippant arrogance and teasing nature admired his work ethic and almost supernatural intelligence, to say nothing of his undeniably pretty face. 

Choso was only there because he knew you were attending and in charge of bringing the requested birthday cake. He didn’t feel one way or the other about Gojo, but he would gladly be by your side, eager to hear the compliments your baking would receive and also to make sure no picky eaters decided to get nit picky and spoil your mood. Truly, Choso had been happy on your behalf to hear you had agreed to help with the party. He certainly wouldn’t think to go out of his way to do something like this for people he didn’t really know outside of a forty five minute, twice a week class. Choso was more than proud to be the boyfriend of a person so thoughtful and generous to a fault; it was one of the reasons he fell so hard in the first place. You never needed a special reason to be kind to someone. And of course, it helped that you were still the most adorable thing he had ever seen in his life and the last few months had been nothing short of heaven.

Except, the cake was red velvet. Choso stands by the teacher’s desk, staring at the cake. It was his favorite flavor. He told you that not long ago and you had promised the first time you made it, it would be for him. 

The cake is beautifully, painstakingly decorated, a perfect ratio of cake and fluffy frosting, sprinkled in bits of dark chocolate; the matching icing spells out ‘Happy Birthday, Satoru!’ in delicate, looping letters across the top. You obviously put a lot of care into making this for Gojo. That afternoon you had been the first person to arrive, followed shortly by another student, Suguru Geto; he wasn’t in the same speech class, but he was Gojo’s best friend and knew some of the class already, so inviting him was a given. The two of you had left to find a lighter and candles, hoping the school store in the basement of the building would provide something suitable. You told Choso he didn’t need to come; you noticed he had seemed a bit drained from studying and his recently acquired part time job, so you insisted he just hang back and relax while you and Geto went to obtain the finishing touches for the cake. 

For the past two minutes Choso has stood in place where you left him, eyeing the cake so innocently sitting atop the cleared off desk. He didn’t know it would be red velvet. Gojo had a sweet tooth and would probably love it. 

Surely this is too much for just an acquaintance. The recipe is a lot more difficult than the stuff you’ve made before, Choso saw there were more steps and more factors that could go wrong and ruin the cake’s moist and spongy texture. Skeptically, Choso narrows his eyes at the round, two tiered dessert. Most of the girls in your shared class offered to bake, but you were the one with the most experience and Gojo had eagerly picked you for the task. You must have felt obligated to make the cake perfect.

Choso’s frown deepens; he is your boyfriend. You promised you would make a cake like this just for him. A gesture like this could easily be taken the wrong way too and you’re so sweet and self effacing, he’s sure the idea of Gojo choosing you to personally make his cake didn’t mean anything at all.

It should be for him.

“What…what happened?”

The smile fell from your lips mere seconds after returning from the school store; Geto, insisting on carrying the purchases, had just been relaying a funny anecdote of one of his and Gojo’s misadventures as the two of you walked back into the now empty classroom. On the ground, right next to the base of the professor's sturdy wooden desk is nothing short of a mess. 

“My cake,” your hands come up to cover your gaping mouth. “What happened?!”

Geto approaches the desk with a confused frown; the cake and the plate it had been placed on are both on the floor. It seemed to have fallen top first, the icing and frosting smeared over the tiles and the plate broken into pieces around it. 

“It fell.” Geto states simply, although not without some incredulity. “Was it close to the edge?”

“No, I, well,” you struggle to recall exactly where you had placed the cake before you left the room. “I didn’t think I put it that close to the edge.”

“There’s frosting streaks on the side too’ it must have just toppled over.” Geto points out with a keen eye, kneeling a bit, bags still in hand. “It might have just been a bit uneven, a little heavier to one side?” he stands to his full height and smiles at you sympathetically. “These things happen, just a little bad luck. I’m sorry, it was a beautiful cake.”

“But everyone’s going to be here soon,” you fret as you search through your bag. “Geto, I’m going to go buy another cake, there’s a store nearby, I’m sure they’ll have something. Oh and I’ll find a custodian, oh no, I’m so sorry, I can’t believe this is happening-”

“Let me go.” Geto places a hand over your tensed shoulder. “It makes more sense, I know what kind of cake Satoru prefers the most. There’s plenty of time and a few others promised to bring drinks and snacks.”

“But I said I’d bring the cake. At least let me give you the money for it?” you hold up a few bills with a pleading stare. “I feel horrible, I should have been more careful where I put it.”

“Don’t beat yourself up; you are the one who did the work to make it.” Geto chuckles but accepts the money if only to make you feel a bit more at ease. “Maybe it’s better this way: with how good that cake looked, I’d wager you might have ended up with that glutton badgering you for more sweets.”

You return his smile as well as you can. “Thank you. I’m just being silly.”

“You’re fine.” Geto says firmly, but not unkindly. “You call a janitor, don’t try to clean up this alone; we wouldn’t want you to get a cut from trying to pick up pieces of that plate. I’ll be back before you know it; Satoru would sulk all afternoon if I don’t get him something anyway.”

“You’re a good friend.” you smile at Geto gratefully. “Thank you, I’ll call someone right away.”

You do just that shortly after Geto takes his leave; most of the custodians have already left for the day, except for one woman. She promises to be there as soon as she’s done with a request from one of the professors in the neighboring building; she sounds pleasant enough, but you feel pangs of guilt as you hang up and take a seat closest to the teacher’s desk. 

“Bunny? Are you okay?”

“Choso, you’re back!” you look up and wave at him, trying to sound cheerful; he glances at the ruined cake and back to your pained smile. “Ah, were you looking for me? I guess we just missed each other, the basement elevator was out of order, so we took the stairs. What a mess, huh? Geto thinks one side was a little heavier and it made the cake just flop right over the edge. Some bad luck, right? He left to get a cake and the custodian will be here soon, so make sure not to step on the plate bits.”

“Hey, slow down. I’m not worried about that.” Choso’s brow furrows as he studies your shaky smile. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. No big deal, accident…accidents happen.”

You bite your bottom lip harshly as your eyes begin to sting; before you know it, tears are slowly slipping down your cheeks. You quickly avert your eyes, too embarrassed to see the pitying look cross Choso’s face.

“Oh Choso, I feel so stupid. I can’t believe I put the cake that close to the edge! Ugh, I should have paid more attention, I told everyone I would make this amazing cake and I messed it all up and now Geto has to go all the way to the stupid store to get another one because I wasn’t careful!”

“Did he get mad at you?” Choso asked sharply. “Did he blame you?”

“No, no, Geto didn’t do anything.”  you bow your head and wipe at your wet cheeks. “He was really nice about it, so was the janitor on the phone about the mess, but I still feel bad. Gojo was just telling me he was really looking forward to the cake too. I’m sure he’ll be disappointed to get a store bought cake and I promised I’d take care of this for the party. Sorry, I know I’m being a crybaby, I should just suck it up, I’m the one who ruined things, I shouldn’t be feeling sorry for myself.”

“No, you didn’t. It’s not your fault.”

You raise your head and Choso is standing in front of the table between him and you; his hands are gripping tightly around the strap of his duffel bag. You wipe the last of your tears and look at him, your chest swelling at how upset he is on your account.

“You’re so sweet. Just having you to vent to makes me feel better already; I’m really just being dramatic, I’ve been stressed out and-”

“It’s not your fault.” Choso cuts you off quietly; he still isn’t looking at you. “It’s mine.”

“What? Baby, no, I didn’t expect you to watch the cake; it’s on me for not making sure it wasn’t so close to the edge, you didn’t do anything.”

“I pushed it.”

Choso’s knuckles are white: he’s strangling the strap of his bag between quivering hands. Finally, he looks into your bewildered eyes

“Choso, is this some kind of joke?” 

“I didn’t want him to have it and, and I thought he might get ideas since you worked so hard to bake it. He flirts with all the girls and you did say you were going to make it for me first.”

“You’ve got to be joking.” you shake your head and all but leap up from your chair. “You? How could you? And you were going to let me think it was my fault?!”

“No! It was supposed to look like an accident, I didn’t think you’d be so upset,”

“So it was okay for me to be ‘kind of’ upset? Choso, how could you?” you ask him again, voice raising, almost echoing in the empty room. “It’s just a cake!”

“Yeah, it’s just a stupid cake, that’s why I didn’t think you’d get this upset!”

Choso’s mouth clamps shut as your anger gives way to a look of utter hurt. 

“Wow.”

“I shouldn’t have said that-”

“Thanks a lot, Choso. Yeah, that really makes it better. Was that your plan? Swoop in and play the comforting boyfriend while I feel like a big idiot? Or maybe you just don’t consider my hobbies anything special; anyone can make a cake, right?” Fresh tears well up in your eyes as you tug your bag over your shoulder. “Nice to know what you really think.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Choso says reproachfully. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded, you’re putting words in my mouth!”

“You know what?” you shake your head and unzip the front section of your bag; clumsily you yank out a sealed box and slam it down on the table. Choso recognizes it as one of the little boxes you use to pack individual desserts. “Here, your stupid cake. Surprise.”

The lid of the container is now sticking to the top of the cake but Choso can still make out the messy letters of his name and the heart shaped sprinkles scattered all over the surface. His eyebrows raise as he sees the small, squashed up cake is in the shape of a heart. You glare down at it before turning on your heel without so much as a backward glance.

“Bunny?” Choso snaps out of his trance and begins to follow you. “Where are you going?”

“Away from you.”

“I can explain, just calm down and let me-”

“Leave. Me. Alone!” you stop abruptly in the doorway and give him a nasty look, but you’re barely able to hold yourself back as Choso fixes you with a heartbroken stare. “Don’t you dare tell me to calm down when you’re the one who threw a fucking tantrum. Enjoy the ‘stupid cake’, jerk!”

You slam the door in his face and rush down the hall to the nearest entrance, not particularly caring about where you’re going, just as long as you can get as much distance between you and Choso as possible. When you finally get home, you text Geto an apology for taking off and a nondescript explanation for your absence before turning your phone off. You’re exhausted and skip dinner to just curl up in your bed, burrowing in a blanket as if you could shut out the world. Choso’s t-shirt, the same one you’ve been sleeping in nearly every night, is balled up and thrown somewhere across the room; eventually you fall asleep, eyes rubbed raw and nose stuffed as you drift off, hoping maybe this was all just a bad dream.

When morning arrives and you manage to force yourself into a sitting position, it takes you a minute or two to realize the gentle knocking isn’t a leftover remnant from your deep slumber, but a very real sound coming from your front door. You wrap yourself in a robe and slip on a pair of house slippers, equally confused and irritated as to who could be knocking on your door when the sun is barely over the horizon. Just as the knocking stops, you peek through the peephole; there’s no one there. You rub your eyes and unlock your door with a sigh, expecting a leaflet from some early bird salesman or religious group to be stuck in the hinges. Instead you nearly trip over a huddled up mass taking refuge on your doorstep when you didn’t immediately open your door.

“Choso?! Oh my god, you scared me!” you’re still breathing a bit heavily, heart racing thinking a stranger had collapsed on your porch. “What are you doing here?”

“I,” Choso scrambles to his feet; you finally notice in his hands are two cups of coffee, one of which is your usual order, but the largest size. He holds it out to you. “Good morning. You weren’t answering your phone.”

“I turned it off.”

After a beat, you take the cup on autopilot, more preoccupied with the man standing at the threshold of your home. The circles under Choso’s eyes are darker than ever, in addition to how red and irritated they are around the edges, his hair is oily and limp. On closer inspection, you see he’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday; now they’re more wrinkled and the slight odor coming off them tells you he hasn’t showered yet. 

“Can I come in?” Choso asks, his voice weak and barely louder than a whisper. “I have to talk to you.”

“Fine.” you frown but move aside and open the door wider. “Here, come with me, I left my phone in my room.”

Choso does as he’s told, but trails after you at a slight distance, at least in comparison to how closely he usually stays to you. He’s shivering; it’s the middle of winter and he isn’t wearing even a jacket. How long had he been knocking on your door? How long had he planned to wait there outside? You banish the thought and busy yourself disconnecting your phone from its charger on your bedside table. Choso stands awkwardly in the middle of your room; he hasn’t taken so much as a sip of his coffee or taken his eyes off you, at least as far as you can see. 

“Did I wake you up?” he asks worriedly. “I’m sorry. I was going to wait but I thought you might have gone somewhere and you weren’t answering your phone, so…” he goes silent seeing his shirt in a crumpled heap in the corner of your room. “I just wanted to talk to you as soon as possible.”

You barely heard him, jaw dropping at your phone’s screen as it fully turns on to show you 32 missed calls, 15 unheard voicemails, 18 unopened texts, and 5 emails, all from Choso over the course of the night. You tap your thumb on the latest voicemail.

“Bunny? Bunny, can’t you just talk to me?” A shaky, nearly unrecognizable croaking comes from the speaker: Choso’s strong voice sounds strained, almost inaudible at certain points, as though he had been screaming until his throat was raw. “I know you’re probably sleeping…or maybe you don’t want to talk to me ever again-” A sharp, wrecked sob crackles over the speaker but Choso manages to steady himself again. “But I need to…I need to hear your voice. I’m so sorry, I’m so, so fucking sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t hate me. I love you so much it hurts. I’m going to stop by tomorrow, I need to see you. I know I messed up, I need help. My bunny? I can’t…oh god, I can’t do this. I-I feel like I’m dying, I’m…I love you. I love you, I love you, just please-”

Your heart drops to your churning stomach as Choso’s words morph into broken, unintelligible sobs. Finally after a few seconds, the other end goes quiet and the voicemail ends. A recorded voice tells you there’s still 14 more previously skipped voicemails; Choso has remained standing, stiff as a board and looking miserably at you. You take a seat on the side of your bed, staring bewildered at your phone; you decide to not listen to the other voicemails.

“I’m sorry.” Choso says in an absurdly small voice. “Can we talk?”

You’re holding the coffee in your hands on your lap and taking a deep breath before raising your face. “Choso, why did you do it?”

“I didn’t do it to hurt you. I don’t think your baking is stupid. I was being stupid.” Choso’s cheeks burn in shame. “I was jealous Gojo was getting the cake first, or I thought he was, and I just…I didn’t want him to have it. It’s always like this.”

“What do you mean?” you ask him slowly, tempering your own indignation. “Do you think he would flirt with me? Or that I would cheat on you?”

“No. I just get so...everyone likes you. So, what if someone better comes along? What if you stop paying attention to me?” Choso shakes his head quickly, gripping his hair like he wants to yank it out. “I have thoughts like that all the time. It's awful. I knew you would be sad, but I really thought it would only be a little and then I could make it better and you would…rely on me more. I don’t want you to get close to anyone else.” he lowers his arm to his side limply. “I know it’s wrong. Are you gonna bre-break up with me?”

You don’t speak just yet; your eyes study his drawn, exhausted face. Choso isn’t trying to make you feel bad for him, you know that much. The truth doesn’t make you feel much better though. 

“I was really mad at you yesterday. I needed space.”

“I know, but-”

“Listen,” you say firmly. “Whatever the reason, that was a really rotten thing you did. It was just plain mean and selfish. Sure, you didn’t really mean to hurt me, but you did. You purposely messed up something I put a lot of work into.”

“I know.” Choso’s expression is desolate. “I like that about you. I love that you do nice things for people even if you don’t have to. Y-you’re so careful and considerate of other people. I was being selfish and it was so, so fucking stupid. You would never do something like that to me…you’re so good to me.”

“Choso, this isn’t just about yesterday.” you soften your tone, mindful of your volume. Choso looks as if one cold word from you could shatter him into a million pieces. “If you were willing to trash something I put a lot of work into for such a petty reason, it’s making me second guess things and now I’m wondering if maybe you’re not the person I thought you were. Is it more important to keep me dependent on you than for me to be happy?” You set your cup down on the nightstand, trying to keep your voice from cracking. “Maybe this isn’t going to work out.”

“Don’t say that.” 

Choso all but drops his coffee onto your dresser, barely glancing at it as he rushes to you; he lowers himself down on his knees, eyes glistening with both unshed tears and sheer adoration as he looks up at your pained face. You let him hold your hands, still folded in your lap, as Choso rests his forehead on your lap. They’re ice cold; how long had he been waiting outside?

“It’ll never happen again. It shouldn’t have happened at all. I know I could have just talked to you, I know you would have listened, but I didn’t even give you a chance, I just did what I wanted. I’m not nearly as kind as you.” Choso admits, words muffled as he buries his face into your thighs. “I don’t deserve you, but I need you. I’ll do whatever you say until you trust me again. Do you hate me?”

“Choso, I never hated you, I was just hurt.” you squeeze his hands gently. “The only reason I got so upset in the first place is because I love you so much. Hell, the cake for the party was more practice than anything so I could make you an even better cake. If you were worried, you should have just told me. You’re not some evil person from feeling jealous, but what you did was wrong. I really need to know that you understand where I’m coming from, I don’t want us to break up or anything. Did you really think I was trying to end things yesterday?”

Choso nods, head still resting on your thighs. “I thought you blocked me on everything. I thou-thought you didn’t ever want to see me again. I should have waited, Eso even said you probably just needed some space, but…I’m so used to being with you, texting you. I was going crazy.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to ghost you. And I’m sorry for calling you a jerk.”

“I am a jerk.”

“No, you acted like a jerk,” you nudge Choso’s shoulder to get him to look up; he does, taking in your face with those pleading puppy dog eyes you can never resist. “I forgive you. I love you baby, so, so much.”

“Bunny,” Choso’s lip wobbles and fat tears roll down his cheeks and chin, dripping onto your hands. “Thank you. I’m sorry I made you cry, just thinking about it makes me want to-to-” he sniffs and clenches his teeth against a whine. “I’m just sorry. I love you. I missed you so much. I couldn’t sleep knowing you were hurting because of me and I wanted to come here right away, but I thought if I did you’d really be fed up and-”

“You didn’t sleep?!” you slowly sit and move so you’re seated further up the bed; Choso follows suit, basically crawling over your pillows and covers to be next to you, tears still streaming down either side of his face. “Choso, lay down baby, you should take a nap. You’ll feel better, believe me. We can talk more later and get something to eat.”

“‘So good to me.” Choso tugs on your arm. “I want to cuddle.” He immediately moves over so you can hold him, laying on your sides as Choso stares balefully up at you through blurry eyes. “Can I have a kiss?”

“Choso, you need sleep.”

“Please?” he mutters, eyes lingering on your pouty mouth. “Need a kiss.”

“Okay, just a little one.”

“Thank you. You’re always so good to me…”

You knew those basset hound eyes would be the death of you: what started out as a tender, chaste kiss swiftly evolved into big hands massaging your breasts, then fingers tugging at the sash of your robe, and finally you being pushed onto your back as Choso holds you down in a mating press. 

“So good!” Choso can’t stop letting out choked moans, so loud, they almost drown out your cries, pushing your thighs closer to your chest, somehow, some way forcing his cock impossibly deep. There’s hints of pain but the pleasure you get from his cock head rubbing against that little spot just behind your clit was overriding all of it. 

“Baby, gotta slow down, you’ll break me at this rate.” you moan, helpless as Choso ducks his head down to lick and suck on your almost painfully sensitive nipples. He had been playing with them obsessively, pinching, rolling, sucking, even leaving dark love bites all over your breast.

“Love you, missed your pussy so much, thought I was gonna, gonna die!”

“Oh god, Choso, please, please baby, it’s too much!” your head lolls side to side; he’s made you cum three times already. Your pussy is a sopping wet mess and it’s all you can do to not pass out as Choso’s thick cock stretches you open over and over again, surely bruising your cervix. “You’re so-ah!” you let out a piercing shriek that only seems to spur him on to go harder. “So deep in my pussy baby, I can’t-”

“Just a little more, I’m so close,” Choso huffs, looking down at you with heavy lidded eyes, cheeks burning and hair sticking to his forehead; he’s a mess from his own sweat and your slick covering his pelvis where he just won’t stop pounding into you. “You look so good like this, I could fuck you forever…gonna cum so hard, give it all to you,”

“Cum in me,” you sweep his damp hair off his forehead with a faint, fucked out smile. “I want to feel it dripping out of me…can you be a good boy and cum in my pussy?”

“Yes, yes! Oh fuck, yes!”

Choso kisses you roughly, hips rolling into yours, barely pulling his cock out at all, as though he wanted his cum to go as deep inside you as it could go. It’s hot and spurting into your battered insides; thankfully Choso has enough strength left to hold you up as he humps your plush, limp body like a dog in heat. 

“Mine,” he groans, thrusting once more with a violent shudder. “Only mine.”

You suppose it’s not the best idea to encourage him, but you nod anyway, shaky hand in his hair to pet the tangled strands, chest heaving and light headed as Choso pulls his softening cock out slowly so as not to hurt you. He pants against your neck, curled into your side and using his wide palm to rub gentle circles over your hips and thighs.

“My poor bunny.” Choso mutters fondly as his fingers trail over your twitching thighs. “I’ll do better. You won’t regret this. I’m gonna get a bath ready for you, okay?”

“Th-thank you.”

“Sh, just relax, don’t get up.” Choso moves sluggishly to take the box of tissues from your nightstand; the coffee he brought you has somehow not been knocked off in the frenzy. “You’re so cute like this. I’ll wipe you off a bit first, nice and easy. Does it hurt down there?”

“Not really; feels more numb actually.” you roll your head to stare at him directly, meaning to look at least a little serious but you come off more like a grumpy kitten. “Don’t think just because you made me almost pass out that I forgot everything from the past 24 hours mister. I’m holding you to your word.”

“Yes ma’am.” Choso agrees with a hum as he wipes at the mess between your legs. “Thank you again…I still ate the cake you made for me. It was really good.”

“Oh right.”

“Yuji said you should have thrown it in my face.” Choso adds, a bit sheepish at the memory. “I almost didn’t eat it: I thought it would be the last thing you ever gave me…”

“Choso,” you smile at him sadly. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you?”

“Uh huh.” Choso brings you into his arms, careful not to jostle you too suddenly. “Just scared. I’ve never felt this way before.”

“Never?”

“No.”

“Why are you scared? Do you still think I want to break up?”

Choso shrugs. “What if the more you get to know me, the more you see bad things?”

“What kind of bad things?”

“If…if I could, I’d keep you with me. Sometimes when we’re alone, I don’t want to let you go. Then I start wondering if trying to keep you safe will just make you unhappy with me or that I’ll scare you off and then…” A single tear escapes Choso’s eye and he draws you in closer to his chest. “I don’t know what I’d do. Compared to you, I’m really selfish and short sighted.”

“No one’s perfect. I’m not.”

“You're just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I overthink things and get worked up over upsetting people. I hold myself to unattainable standards.” you list off tiredly. “And I keep doing this thing where I shy away from letting people really…know me. Like if they do, I’ll just let them down. I feel like an imposter half the time when you say all these nice things about me. You’re the first person I’ve actually wanted to know me, warts and all. It’s worth getting to be with someone like you, Choso. That’s just how relationships work; you’re always risking getting hurt or disappointed when you let people love you…when you love someone. And I love you.”

“Um…is it bad that I feel happy I’m the only person you talk to like this?” Choso sniffles. “Sorry. I’m being selfish again.”

“Maybe a little, but for the right reasons.” you grin and wipe a thumb under his eye. “For the record, it makes me happy you think of me so highly. You make me feel special.”

“You are special and anyone who thinks otherwise is stupid.”

“Does that include me then?”

Choso looks visibly panicked. “Wa-wait, that’s not what I meant!”

“I know, I know, sorry baby.” you kiss him before he starts into another round of apologies. “That was just a little payback. Ah, Choso!”

“Not funny.” Choso grumbles, bundling you into the blankets as you giggle and let out a faux fearful squeal; the sly quirk of his lips betrays his actual intentions. “After your bath, I’m gonna give you a real reason to scream.”

[bbyobbyo]

Everyone thinks Vernon is always at your place because you feed him. While you can agree it's mostly true, there might be more to it than meets the eye.

content: fluff, f2l, mentions of food

wc: 1.6k

notes: me taking a stab at writing lol. i also don't know how tumblr works. inspired by the fact that this man will eat everything in sight regardless if its someone else's food or not. i'd love to cook for him someday ❤

6pm on the dot. You don't even have to check to know who it is.

"Hey, Sol." You look up from the pot you've been stirring to greet your visitor who let himself in. Your apartment's passcode was practically muscle memory at this point.

"Hey, smells good in here," he comments while taking off his shoes, "I mean — it always does but you get it." You give him a little chuckle in response.

You hadn't been friends with Hansol for very long, but when a mutual friend decided to introduce you two to each other, you instantly hit it off. The whirlwind of a friend group you now shared was filled with strong personalities and quirks: Seungcheol was the self-proclaimed "dad" of the group but you'd swear he would whine and complained more than the rest of them combined. Seungkwan, the one who always had a sassy quip to share, but would be the first to cry at Disney movie nights. There was Jihoon, who showed his love exclusively with acts of service but is so tsundere he would rather die to admit he had any kind of emotions besides annoyance. Not to mention Soonyoung, who made it his mission to convince everyone that he was a tiger. No one knew how this bit started but everyone finds it entertaining nonetheless.

Amongst them all, Hansol was just a dude. A normal guy. As funny as it sounds, that's what made you two click so well. Not that he didn't have his own aspirations (and his own fair share of quirks!), but he had always been the sort of person that was along for the ride. Although a little bit clueless at times, you could tell his heart was in the right place.

"I brought dessert, by the way," He plops a plastic bag onto the kitchen counter, his cheekbones pushed all the way out in a smug grin, "hope you like it."

"Aww, Sol you didn't have to!" delight in your eyes as you wipe your freshly washed but still wet hands on your pants and scurry over to peek inside the bag. "Oh my god, this is that tiramisu from that bougie place, isn't it?! I heard the wait times were, like, over an hour. You're insane for this, thank you so much!" You're practically beaming as you put the dessert in refrigerator, promptly turning around to give him a hug. His hands automatically reach around your back as you bury your face into his chest. Man, he will never get tired of the way you smile at him over the smallest things.

"You're always feeding me, so it's like, the least I can do really" he murmurs as you let go, his own smile spreading across his face when you look up at him.

Right. Your relationship with Hansol was rooted in the fact that you both loved food. Cooking food in your case, and eating it for him. It was a match made in heaven, really. In the beginning stages of your friendship, you always noticed how he would always ask for bites of other peoples' food, the way he would eye a bag of snacks if anyone dared to bring them out, the "you gonna finish that..?" that would inevitably follow the conclusion of every meal. The guy was a human trash can with a black hole in place of his stomach. So really, was anyone surprised when Hansol practically attached himself to you that day you brought in those homemade baked goods for the friend group?

After that day, the rest was history. His insatiable hunger and the lack of his own cooking skills (poor dude would be consuming toast everyday if he didn't eat out) made him worship the ground you walked on whenever you fed him. In turn, his enthusiasm for your cooking and willingness to give honest feedback on your experimental recipes made him a regular guest at your apartment, much like today.

Hansol would be lying if he said he didn't feel like he was taking advantage of you sometimes, no matter how much you insisted that it wasn't the case. He always tried his best to chip in for your groceries or pick up ingredients when you didn't have time. He didn't even mind the way his friends teased him for being at your place more often than his own or the fact that you gained your own nickname among the guys as his personal chef. He was happy with your little arrangement, and it also helped that you were so easy to be around.

"Hey, can you help me set the table?" you say as you push a stack of plates and tableware toward him. Your attention is quickly pulled away again as you go to plate the food you've been laboring over the past hour.

The routine is a familiar one: sitting down across from each other with a wide array of dishes and sides in between. You always make him take the first bites; "I already taste tested everything as I was cooking, silly!" you would say, eyes focused and hands tucked under your chin eagerly awaiting his reactions and thoughts.

Today's meal was a hit, as it usually is. Hansol could count less than a handful of times that he didn't love your food, and even then he still ate everything despite you telling him that it was okay if he didn't finish it.

The next part of the routine, however, rivals even the food in his eyes. Both of you are glued to the chairs chatting away, even when all the food is long gone and empty plates remain on the table. Between you two, there was always something to talk about. Tangents turn to into more tangents turn into "remember when we…" turn into "we should totally do…" Hours can pass by before one of you even remembers that there was dessert in the fridge, and even more hours before either of you get up again to go wash the dishes. When that happens, you simply carry the conversation to the kitchen except this time with the gentle running of sink as background noise.

You were like a breath of fresh air from the chaos of his main friend group and someone he felt entirely comfortable with. Except lately he's been wanting to see you more and more. He would catch himself staring at his phone hoping a text from you would pop up, asking him to come over again.

He's embarrassed to admit that you have never hung out one-on-one outside of the walls of your apartment. It was an unspoken boundary that you two saw each other under the pretense of food, a boundary that he increasingly would like to cross.

You're not even looking at him, attention focused on scrubbing away at the pot in your hand, still talking about that awkward encounter with your neighbor yesterday. But the longer he stares at you, Hansol thinks to himself — have you always been this pretty? He traces every part of your form, from the micro expressions you make with your eyebrows as you talk, to noticing the little strands of hair by your face that escaped the ponytail you put it in, and the way your left sleeve is slowly slipping down your arm and in danger of getting soaked.

"...so screw me if I thought that it was none of his busine— Sol...?"

Before he even knew what he was doing he found himself abandoning his plate drying duty and sliding behind you at the sink, your back pressed against his chest as he grabbed your sleeve and gingerly rolled it up your arm once again. Just as he thinks you can't get any more gorgeous, his world stops when you turn your head around and he finds your face inches from his. The way your eyes glisten into his own makes the split second feel like an eternity before pulling away.

"S-sorry if I scared you, just didn't want your sleeve to get wet." adding a nervous chuckle to the end as he returns to the stack of tableware he has yet to dry.

"N-no! It's okay! Thank you for that!" you stammer back, trying not to look him in the eyes to hide the very obvious blush that spread on your cheeks. "Ahaha... yeah so anyways, what was I saying again?" Without missing a beat, he replies "you were talking about how your nosy neighbor thinks we're dating because I come over so often."

"Oh, haha, right..." your voice is barely above a whisper, a chuckle dies in your throat as you realize you've been scrubbing an already clean pot for 5 minutes now. You sigh as you turn off the water and start drying off your hands to put the dishes back in their places.

"I don't mind," he says after a thoughtful pause. It takes a second for you to register the words. "Sorry, what?"

"I don't mind if he thinks we're dating."

You feel like the hearing comprehension part of your brain just reset. "Wait, wha-"

"I think it would be kinda nice actually... if we dated."

After a second too long of silence from you, he was the one with panic with his eyes this time. "B-but only if you want to! Shit, uh, sorry I really didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or anything. Just forget I said anyth-"

He's interrupted by your arms snaking around his neck. "You're hopeless, Sol", you say as you press a light kiss to his lips. "I think it would be nice if we dated, too."

[amomentsescape]

Hey, do you have any slasher X reader where the reader loves baking?

Slashers with Reader That Loves Baking

Slashers x Reader (Separate)

Includes: Freddy, Michael, Jason, Thomas, Bubba, Brahms, Norman, Billy, & Stu

A/N: Hmm... I don't think I do. Looks like I need to whip up another fic. Here you go!

Freddy Krueger

Although Freddy doesn't need to eat, he'll try anything you make him!

He's happy that you have a hobby that you enjoy during the day

He's even happier that he gets to taste the results

Whenever you visit him, he makes sure the dream world has a kitchen for you in case you want to make something while you're there

You're more inclined to bake there anyways because Freddy can get you just about any ingredient your heart desires

When you do make items, Freddy switches into his "Kiss the Cook" apron and matching hat

He may not help you with the baking, but he still expects kisses while you work

He'll stand beside you, just observing everything you do

He doesn't ask too many questions either, he just likes seeing you relaxed

Once the treats are ready, he literally stabs a few onto his knifed glove and eats them off of it

There hasn't been a single thing you've made that he hasn't enjoyed

Michael Myers

Michael is pretty neutral with your enjoyment of baking

He tends to his hobbies, you tend to yours

He doesn't feel like there needs to be any crossover of sorts

However, he won't deny you when you ask him to try things

And if you need help accessing the top shelf, he'll help you out

He secretly has a big sweet tooth, and your warm smile influences him to try everything (he'd be dead before he admitted it though)

He has a pretty basic taste in sweets too

He enjoys the majority of the cookies, cakes, and breads you've made

He isn't a big fan of pie or dried fruits though

If you make a batch of anything, he'll try a bite if you ask, but that'll be it

You're always certain he's just trying to be polite

But whenever you wake up in the morning, half the tray is gone

Michael will just shrug it off of course

But it's pretty obvious he enjoys your treats

Jason Voorhees

He absolutely loves that you bake!

To be fair, he'd love literally anything you do that makes you happy, but baking reminds him a lot of his missed childhood

You've made a couple things already that reminded him of stuff his mother used to make, and it almost brought him to tears

He doesn't really get sweet cravings like he did when he was younger, but he will never say no to trying something of yours

He also enjoys decorating some of the treats too

His large hands tend to fumble a bit, and nothing comes out as good as yours, but he's having fun, and that's what matters most to you both

His favorite thing is coming home after a long day to the smell of baked goods and to see you casually mixing ingredients together

You just seem so content, and it gives him a taste of what domestic life is like with you

He'll always come over to greet you with a hug, not caring if you're covered in flour

And once he's gotten cleaned up, he just sits at the table out of the way, watching you

He especially loves when you talk to him while baking

It just makes him all warm inside

Thomas Hewitt

He never really grew up with home baked goods like yours before, so it feels like literal heaven when he smells the sugar in the air

He likes walking up and peering over your shoulder, trying to see what you're doing

He also just likes hanging out with you in case you need help with anything

If your arms ever get tired from mixing or kneading, you know who to ask

If you let him, he'll take little tastes of the batters, predicting how much he's going to like them once they're done

(It's always a 10/10)

If it's sweet, he likes it

There's never been anything you've made that he didn't eat almost all of in one night

He loves if you make enough for the whole family too!

He's a bit hesitant to help decorate, and even more so to help add ingredients

But if you ask, there's no way he'd be willing to say no

Bubba Sawyer

He adores your baking!

He absolutely has no idea what you're doing half the time, but he's happy about it all the same

You've got to be careful with this one though

Because if you even turn around for a second, the batter is gone

Same goes for when the treats are cooling

If you leave the kitchen, they'll be gone within just a couple minutes

You have no idea how he manages to do it

At least he's showing you just how much he loves your bakery?

But besides that, he's a great hand to have in the kitchen

He can mix and mix for days

And he's always there to help hand you whatever you need

Just don't trust him with the powders unless you want a white, dusty kitchen

He's also not the best around the hot oven, having burnt himself a handful of times

It's kind of like having a helpful but clumsy child in the kitchen with you

But he's so sweet you can't bare to tell him to leave

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms never grew up with many sweets in the house

So having his own baker at home is like feeding a starving man

And with Brahms, you can imagine how that goes

Will come to you almost every day with a new treat he is craving

In fact, he even added to the rules list that you needed to make him a bedtime treat or else he refuses to go to sleep

You love baking of course, so it's not a problem, but some of his requests are absurd

A pie covered in chocolate ice cream smooshed with cookies and drizzled with brownie batter might be a bit much for a midnight snack

But you honestly did it to yourself

The moment he tasted your treats, there was no going back

And be careful when the sugar rush hits

He's ready to bounce off the walls with you in tow

Norman Bates

Norman has always been one for domestic hobbies

So the fact that you're a baker makes him feel so cozy and warm

Waking up to fresh muffins with his tea, coming home to a plate of brownies, and even being woken up in the middle of the night to some wild cookie recipe all makes Norman so happy

Jokingly complains that you're fattening him up

He's honestly a pretty good baker himself, although he argues that his skill is nowhere near as good as yours

But there have been a handful of times he prepare his own treat beside you in the kitchen, and it always came out amazing

And because of his experience, he's happy to give a lending hand when you need

If you're making something you know by heart instead, then he's still there beside you, keeping up with the dishes so you don't have to tend to a mess later

Norman enjoys whatever makes you happy, and is eager to learn even more about what you love too!

Billy Loomis

He's pretty chill about it at first

He thinks it's a cute hobby, but doesn't know much about it himself

However, the first time he was actually there with you watching you work and tasting what you made...

He really gained a better perspective on it

He can see the hard work and true enjoyment you put into the hobby, and this makes him appreciate it more

He's not huge on sweets, but seeing you put all of this together for him makes it impossible to deny them

Will be brutally honest if he likes something or not, but there's truly only been a couple times he actually didn't like what you made

Will occasionally sit on the counter beside you and just ask basic questions

"What does this thing do?" "How long does it need to sit there?" "Is there a difference between folding and mixing?"

You always smile at him since his genuine curiosity is cute

Plus, it shows he's trying to learn more about what you do

Will definitely stand behind you and rest his head on your shoulder while you work

Stu Macher

You love to bake? Well, Stu loves to eat

Match made in heaven in his eyes

He honestly is surprised by the amount of effort that it takes to whip up a simple cookie or cupcake

He's not usually on this end of the food process

But he honestly enjoys watching what you do

Will literally just stare and zone out, making you laugh

Loves loves loves when it's time to lick the spoon

He will dab batter onto your nose though

He's a huge fan of helping you decorate too!

Just be careful, because Stu is also a huge fan of squeezing the piping bag directly into his mouth

But surprisingly, Stu has become pretty decent at piping frosting and making your treats look pretty

He always insists on eating the ones you decorate though because they "taste better"

He honestly just loves being able to show praise for the stuff you make him and will always request a fun treat to accompany your weekly movie nights

[nikethestatue]

A Match Baked In Heaven

Chapter XVII

Everlasting Light

Elain Archeron threaded a pearl earring into her ear and then stepped back, looking at her reflection in the mirror. 

For the wedding, she decided to go dramatic and memorable. Her dress was pale pink and cream, form-fitting, with an ostentatious flower at the shoulder. The gown (it really was more of a gown, rather than just a dress) was satin and chiffon, with delicate silk inserts and appliqué flowers. 

She kept her hair simple, in a neat chignon, and wrapped a narrow satin ribbon around her head in lieu of a hat.

It was a dress worthy of a wedding. A dress worthy of a bride. 

Only it wasn’t her wedding. And she wasn’t the bride. 

And the dress was much too expensive and glamorous for a wedding guest. There was nothing subtle about it. But for once, Elain Archeron chose not to be demure, modest and shyly elegant. No. Today, she was going to arrive in style and overshadow the bride. Today, she was going to be outlandish. 

She supposed that that’s the danger one ran into when they invited their ex to their wedding. But that was not her problem, frankly. 

Piglet arrived in her bedroom and offered his male support by barking his approval. He was looking rather spiffy himself, dressed in a proper morning suit, with a waistcoat and a pale pearl tie, to match her dress. 

He was still getting used to his new leg prosthetic, and while he didn’t like it when he was first fitted with it, now, three weeks later, he refused to go outside without it.

Elain's Dress

-

“It’s all paid for,” the veterinarian told her when Elain took Piglet for his first fitting,

“Pardon?” She was perplexed. How would anyone know about her bringing Piglet here? She hadn’t even told her sisters about it. In case the procedure didn’t work, she preferred to keep it secret before she was sure that Piglet would accept it. He was acting awfully bitey at the fitting and gave her deathly side eyes, while refusing to look at her once it was done. 

The receptionist, who was handling the financials, looked at the monitor and read out loud, 

‘Looks like…let’s see here. A Mr. Azriel Night? Paid in full. It says here…oh, well, he is your partner, Miss Archeron,’ she laughed, ‘I suppose I don’t have to tell you that.’

‘I’d prefer to pay for it myself,’ Elain argued tersely. At the mention of his name, she immediately felt the squeeze in her throat and a suffocating pressure in her chest, as she fought her tears. She was not going to burst in tears in front of this poor, well-meaning woman. She wasn’t going to make a fool of herself in public. 

The receptionist blushed and scrambled, muttering, ‘Miss Archeron, it would be difficult. We’d have to refund the purchase, and since Mr. Night hasn’t requested it…I’m sure I can contact him,’

Pursing her lips, Elain managed to remain visibly calm. She didn’t want to argue. Besides, Piglet was already growling at her and was about to start some shit right in the office, so she decided to handle this later, on the phone. 

She absolutely wasn’t going to take any charity or handouts from that man. Not at all. He didn’t deserve to know that he contributed to Piglet’s well-being in any manner. He didn’t. She wouldn’t allow him to. 

The problem was that it went even further than Azriel paying for the robotic prosthesis. That same week she also received a letter from Piglet’s regular vet, notifying her that Piglet’s longevity shots have been paid for in full. In perpetuity. As in, forever. That horrid, treacherous man dared to…Elain couldn’t believe it. Enraged, she rang Cassian. 

Before the man could say ‘hello’, she screamed into the phone,

‘Tell your brother to leave us alone! He is not to make attempts at helping my dog with anything. Piglet isn’t his responsibility. We don’t need him!’

‘What?’ Cassian asked dumbly. 

‘You heard me!’ She snapped at him. ‘I don’t need anything from him. Just my fee. I’m quite sure that he still owes me for setting him up.’

‘Yeah, he does,’ Cassian agreed, his tone sombre and defeated. ‘That he does.’

‘Exactly. Beyond my fee, I’m not interested in hearing anything from or about him. I hope you understand.’

‘I understand.’

‘Thanks. Bye!’

But before she could hang up, Cassian called after her and quickly asked, “and you? How are you?’’

She paused and he heard her swallow. She didn’t answer for a long time. He wasn’t even sure if she was still on the line when at last, he heard her say, ‘I’m brilliant.’

“You don’t need to say that to me,” he snapped at her. 

She scoffed, ‘I don’t owe you anything, Cass. So there is that. Tell him that I don’t need anything from him. That’s all I’m asking of you.’ 

He sighed heavily and told her, 

“Okay”.

-

It was a surprisingly nice day for early March. It was sunny and warm and wisteria began blooming all around Bloomsbury and Russell Square. 

Her father sent a car for her, so she wouldn’t have to take a taxi. At first, Elain didn’t want to bother, but after she decided on her dress, she changed her mind. Now, there was a Bentley waiting for her on the street. 

She hated that she almost greeted her father’s driver as ‘Dev’, but she stopped herself at the last moment. Piglet stopped to inspect the car, not recognising it and he also paused when he saw the new driver. He was going to give him paw, like he did with Dev, but this wasn’t Dev and Piglet waited for Elain to do something. 

“Lady Elain,” the driver greeted her as he opened the door and then looked at the pug and said, “and this is Piglet, I assume.”

“It is. Thank you,” she turned to the dog and helped him inside the vehicle. “We have a stop to make and pick up another individual.”

“Of course,” the driver said simply and then assisted her inside the car, and even picked up and loaded the train of her dress inside, arranging it on the floor, so it wouldn’t wrinkle. She told him the address and they took off. 

Elain felt detached from herself, as if she was looking at her body from the outside. She was seemingly standing behind a glass and observing her life, but it wasn’t hers. Not really. Her life should’ve been completely different right now. She should’ve been with Azriel. Loved by him. Loving him. She should’ve been going to her own wedding. She should’ve been happy.

But she wasn’t. 

Elain wasn’t happy.

As they detoured through Marylebone towards Paddington, Elain was of mind to call the whole thing off. She didn’t need to go to the wedding. She could make an excuse. It was just her, and her family would be represented just fine by Nesta and Feyre. There was no need for her to torture herself or her dog with all of this. 

But, by the time she was ready to say something to the driver, they were pulling around Radnor Mews–unbearably charming and picturesque–and she spotted a tall, statuesque man standing on the corner, looking at his phone.

The Bentley pulled to the curb and the driver got out to open the door. 

“Hey gorgeous!” the man slid inside the cabin, taking up about as much space as Azriel normally would.

Goddamn it. Enough already. Enough with Azriel!

Elain squeezed her eyes tightly, before sighing and looking at her companion.

“Fen,” she breathed.

His dark, luminous eyes skimmed over her elaborate dress, the large flower on her shoulder, and then he reached and gently drew his finger from her cheek down to her collarbone.

“My god you are beautiful,” he gawked, shaking his head. “Are you okay to do this?”

She bit her lip and then nodded. If he noticed her reluctance, he didn’t show it, but only took her hand in his and threaded their fingers together.

Fenris Beem-Moon was Elain’s first…well, everything. Her first in many ways. Her first boyfriend. Her first major crush. He took her on her first date when they were 16 years old. The first time she got drunk was with Fen and he held her hair back while she puked miserably in a pub loo. He attempted to teach her to drive, to the detriment of his own life–and failed. He was her first man–the one who took her virginity, when they went to Brighton for a long weekend. Fen was the first (and only) man, so far, to consistently provide Elain with toe-curling orgasms.

They parted ways when both went to the university. Elain–to Bristol, while Fen went to Dartmouth in the US. Nowadays, she was a matchmaker to the wealthy and the titled, and he was managing a hedge fund.

“Hey Pugnatious the Great,” Fen rubbed Piglet’s back and the pug leaned against him in a friendly way. Elain chuckled at the moniker. Fenris was one of a select few whom Piglet actually liked, and not just tolerated. He and her pug didn’t have the soul-crushing adoration like Piglet had with Azriel, but,

Here she was. AGAIN. Thinking about Azriel.

She shook her head and scoffed at her own thoughts. She was pathetic. No other word for it. Pathetic. She hated herself for constantly thinking about that asshole. For being so weak and stupid that all her thoughts revolved around an unworthy man. 

Fen looked at her, sensing her distress and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. His lips pressed to her temple and he rubbed his thumb over her bare shoulder.

“How do you want to play this?” he asked at last, once Elain stilled beneath his arm and lay her head on his shoulder. “Are we making him jealous? Should I make him eat a bag of dicks?”

She snorted at that.

“Should I fuck him up for making you sad?” he continued.

“He is big,”

Bubbling his lips, Fen chuckled, “Not as big as me, elske.”

Then he laughed quietly, “you got a type, that’s for sure! You like a big man,” 

She sighed, but did not argue. She liked them big and strong.

Then, with a scowl, he added, “though not sure where your Eris fits in. At least the Douchebag is handsome. Not as handsome as me,”

“No,” she drawled, “of course not,”

“But he is handsome enough. Eris…fuck, babe, he is a ginger!”

Laughing at his antics, Elain pushed at his chest, saying, “you are an anti-gingerite!”

“One word, babe–ginger pubes!” he announced dramatically and Elain shuddered. 

“Eww, Fen, don’t be gross,”

“Hey, I wasn’t the one nosing into ginger pubes,” he reminded her. 

“It’s two words, by the way.”

“Don’t change the subject,” he cocked his brow. “Ginger pubes are ginger pubes. Is he hung at least?

She rolled her eyes and offered a shrug. 

“So, he could be bigger,” Fenris confirmed. 

Elain knew what he was doing–he was cheering her up, saying all kinds of nonsense, so she wouldn’t have to think of what she was about to face. And for that, she was grateful.

But as they drove towards the Royal Boroughs of Kensington and Chelsea, she knew that no amount of pep talks or cheering up could change the reality of what she was about to experience. 

Many had wondered as to why Elain and Fenris did not end up together? They seemed to have had everything in common–they were childhood friends, they were both wildly attractive, both came from wealthy, illustrious families, Fenris being the son of the head of the Beem banking dynasty and a Danish Countess. What’s more, they had a fine, loving, amicable relationship. However, Fenris had a secret, to which few were privy, but Elain knew. His sexual tastes ran exotic–he was a Dom and a co-owner of a BDSM club in Soho. He was their superstar performer, along with his submissive and real-life lover Kat. Fen and Kat were soulmates, and Elain was always envious of their relationship–the love, the trust, the adoration. She was less fanatical about the caning and the fisting on stage (which she’d watched when she visited the club), but she did not judge her best mate. What’s more, contrary to popular belief, Elain was a lot less uptight and uncomfortable with sex than most people assumed. Fenris had guaranteed that. Her only problem was that she kept ending up with sexually boring men. After Fen, only Azriel came close to being as spectacular, but,

Gah!

She was thinking about him again. 

But it was curious, now that she thought about it, that Azriel basically fisted her that one time–their only real intimate time. What did it say about her? What did it say about her because she loved it?

“We can’t make him jealous,” she told Fenris quietly, hiding her face in his chest. He stroked the back of her neck, holding her close. “He is literally marrying someone else.”

“Maybe he is delirious,” Fen offered. “Like a brain inflammation,”

“Oh, is that what it is?” she huffed a sceptical sigh. 

“I mean it’s a fairly reasonable explanation as to why he’d be marrying someone else when he had you and, as you told me, he said that he loved you.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek and murmured,

“Or, maybe, he never loved me at all.”

-

Azriel Night adjusted his cufflinks and then glanced at his watch.

10:53 am.

The guests were milling about in the airy Cadogan Suite of the Old Chelsea Town Hall, enjoying cocktails and admiring the Victorian architecture of the pale grey and blue walls and the impressive marble and granite fireplace. It wasn’t exactly a huge gathering, only about twenty guests, and most of them were family anyway. And that suited him just fine. 

Old Chelsea Town Hall, London

He already felt like shit, hot and tense, his dark navy suit seemingly too tight and stifling around the shoulders. He readjusted the sleeves about thirty times and still he couldn’t get comfortable. Truthfully, Azriel didn’t need any more people witnessing the shitshow that was about to take place. 

Plopping heavily on a chair he buried his head in his hands. He was alone in the antechamber of the reception room, his eyes darting towards the door every five seconds.

“You alright?” he heard Cassian’s voice, but didn’t answer.

Was he alright? Sure didn’t feel like it.

“She’ll come,” Cassian assured him. “She will. She texted Nes earlier,”

“Even if she does show up,” Azriel interrupted him, “it won’t change anything.”

Cassian sighed and didn’t argue. Probably not. Azriel had fucked up and Cassian didn’t think that Elain was going to suddenly forgive him just like that. Or should. Or would. 

Besides, he was tasked with telling Azriel one other nugget of shit,

“Sooo…I just wanted you to know,” he began saying slowly, “that she would be coming with,”

“Who the fuck is that?!” Azriel snarled angrily and jumped to his feet. “Who is that? Who is with her?”

“Mmm, yeah, that’s what I was saying,” Cassian muttered, but before he could continue, he was stopped by the look on Azirel’s face.

The look of adoration and utter amazement. Anger too, but mostly Az looked both flabbergasted and smitten. Cassian followed his brother’s gaze and immediately whistled under his breath. 

Elain Archeron glided into the room, dressed in a spectacular satin gown, which accentuated her round curves and stunned with its haute couture details. Cassian wasn’t exactly a fashionista, but he could tell when a woman looked good. And Elain looked spectacular! This dress–pale blush pink–was decorated with bold, but delicate flowers at the bottom and on her shoulder, and he guessed that every embellishment was handmade. If ever there was a princess, Elain was most certainly one today. 

And like a true princess, she arrived exactly on time. 

And just like that, all eyes were on her. 

But she did not react. Nothing outwardly but a blase, relaxed appearance. 

What’s more, Elain was draped over one beast of a man–absolutely huge, at least 6”6–so handsome, he could only be called ‘breathtaking’. Cassian was staunchly straight and liked pussy more than he liked just about anything else, but fuck it–he’d give this bloke a go if the opportunity presented itself. The man had a perfect, unblemished, ridiculously symmetrical face, with a jaw that could cut glass, dark, almost black eyes and a leonine head of gorgeous golden hair. His form fit his face–muscular, toned, firm, but compact in a way professional athletes were. 

And speaking of professional athletes–the one next to him, his own brother, was just about vibrating with dark, pent up energy. 

“We are not brawling,” Cassian cautioned him sternly.

“Who the fuck is he?” Azriel hissed. 

“Whoever he is,” Cassian said, “he can take you,”

“Pfff,” Azriel snorted, but it wasn’t a confident snort. He realised that the blond god would make a worthy opponent if push came to shove. 

“You need to calm down,” Cassian warned. 

“If that cocksucker is fucking my wom-,”

“She is not your woman,” Cassian reminded him. 

“Fuck you, Cass.”

“Whatever.”

Meanwhile, Piglet weaved between the man’s legs and sat down at his side, while the man bent and rubbed the pug’s neck, and then fished something out of his pocket and gave it to Piglet to chew. 

“The fuck he is giving him treats!” Azriel seethed, while Cassian shook his head and said, 

“Why are you acting like some overprotective boyfriend? You left her,”

“And why is he touching her like that?” Azriel completely ignored Cassian’s words, as he watched the disgustingly good looking bloke, on whose arm Elain was literally hanging, turn and cup Elain’s face in his massive hand, his fingers on her cheek and then kiss the top of her head, right on the satin band that held her hair in place.

KISS HER HEAD!!!

“Little Piggy, you are so handsome!!” Azriel heard Feyre’s excited screeching and then, to his surprise, she greeted the blond guy, “Fen, long time no see! How are you?!”

She reached up and he kissed her cheek, but before he answered, she prattled forth, “I didn’t know you were coming today. Are you two back together?”

Back together???

“It would be so good if you got back together,” she continued, smiling breathlessly.

Elain pursed her lips and snapped, “Fey!”

“What, what?!” Feyre began to backtrack. “I am just saying.”

The man, Fen, had an amused smirk playing on his lips, his fingers still stroking Elain’s bare shoulders. 

“It’s good to see you, Feyre,” he said simply. 

“But you are,” Feyre started again, but then Elain’s attention, along with her head, turned to Azriel.

-

Unable to wait any longer, Azriel got up and walked across the room, noticing how Elain had tensed the moment he stepped out of the antechamber and made his way towards her. 

She looked indescribably beautiful today. A little sad. A little nervous, though she covered it up pretty well. But overwhelmingly, she was simply stunning. That dress…Azriel wasn’t sure what to make of it, because she looked both bridal and regal, a queen, but also a timid virgin. Where did you even get a dress like that? And how do you come to a decision which says ‘yeah, I am going to throw this on today. To a wedding. Which isn’t my own.’ He figured that it was a very Elain thing to do–to march to the beat of her own drum, wearing what she liked–but still. This was ballsy. 

The blond bloke still had his hand on her though. It was a proprietary hold–his long fingers holding her by the back of the neck. Like a lover. Like she belonged to him.

Azriel barely managed to hold back an animalistic snarl. Barely managed to hold back and not lunge at the guy and break his fingers, thus removing them from Elain’s bare flesh. 

“You came,” he said instead, balling his hands behind his back. He was almost on top of them, standing so close that he could feel the warmth of Elains body and smell her sweet, delicious jasmine perfume. He didn’t bother with any kind of preamble. He didn’t have it in him to engage in small talk or act decently. He wanted to rip the man’s arms right off and then press her to her knees on the floor and fuck her brutally on the guy’s bleeding corpse.

Elain turned to face him–her expression placid, and almost disinterested. As if he was interrupting something and she needed to give him her time and attention.

She plastered a fake smile on her face and turned fully to him. The blond man’s hand did not leave her neck. Azriel gritted his teeth. 

“Of course,” she nodded easily, a bland smirk on her lips. “I always attend these weddings–if the clients that I set up invite me, I gladly accept. Tell me, Azriel, where is Gwyn?”

He ignored her question and asked instead, “And who is your date?”

The man’s hand remained on her neck. 

“Fenris Beem-Moon,” the bloke said and extended his other hand to Azriel. 

Elain’s expression was inscrutable. She watched Azriel shake Fenris’s hand with a pained expression though he managed to contain himself. But Elain knew him well–could read all his micro expressions like an open book. She was well aware of the fact that Azriel was fuming inside, but pretended to pretend like he didn’t care. It didn’t help matters that Fenris intended on making Azriel jealous, by stroking her throat with his knuckles, before wrapping his fingers over the back of her neck. 

“And you are her date?” Azriel asked, his voice hollow.

Fen didn’t confirm or deny, but only said ‘El needed a plus one and here I am’. 

“And here you are,” Azriel echoed.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but that was cut short by a loud screeching roar that came out of Piglet once he beheld Azriel in his sight. The big brown bug eyes blinked and Piglet sized Azriel up, and determined that the proximity to Elain was too much for him to allow. With an enraged bark, he bounced on the floor, flying out of Feyre’s arms. 

It was all happening in slow motion. Everyone turned and attempted to catch him, but he deployed his full parkour moves and galloped towards Azriel with angry, hateful barks. 

Azriel didn’t know how to react, but Piglet solved the dilemma for him, when he lunged at him and sunk his sharp little teeth into Azriel’s hand.

“Awww, fuck!” Azriel cried, not knowing how to avoid the attack. Because Piglet was definitely attacking. Once he drew blood from Azriel’s palm, he latched onto his leg, biting him painfully, making him bleed yet again and Azriel noticed  blood stains on his trouser leg. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” he roared, “stop it! Awww! Fuck! Stop biting me!”

Piglet didn’t let up for a second. He jumped and bit and scratched, pushing Azriel back and away from Elain. He raged and slashed, with claws and teeth, and yes, he could’ve been picked up and thrown aside, but Azriel couldn’t do that.

And then Piglet went for the jugular. Or rather, for Azriel’s groin, latching on to his thigh and attempting to reach the most sensitive area. The only thing that helped Azriel in that moment was the fact that he was tall, and Piglet miscalculated the jump, and instead of biting his dick, he bit his thigh. It was like wrestling that cannibalistic rabbit from ‘Monty Python’--Azriel tried to pull the pug off his leg, but it was surprisingly more difficult than he anticipated. Obviously he could've been rough with the pug and hurt him, but Azriel wasn’t going to go there. Piglet wiggled, snarled and growled angrily, while he searched for more flesh to bite, looking for reactions that caused the most pain and discomfort to Azriel, and when seeing it, biting harder. 

It was Elain, at last, who jumped on the dog and tried to wrestle him away. He wouldn’t budge though, no matter how she tried to pry him off or ordered him to stop. 

“Piglet, Piglet,” she pleaded, afraid to stick her finger in his mouth to loosen his hold. “Stop. Stop.”

Cassian stepped in, trying to hold the dog off, only to receive a scratch from the angry little paw. Feyre tried as well, waving cheese and bread in her hands–who even knows how she got those–but Piglet didn’t care. Fenris pulled on the pug, grabbing him around the body, but they just heard the cloth rip and Azriel winced in pain.

Finally, Elain snapped, “Piglet! Stop right now. You are hurting daddy. Stop. You love daddy,” she reminded him, but he roared at her in response. “I don’t care. You don’t bite. Even if your feelings are hurt and he left you,” she added ruthlessly. “You are better than that.”

She gently tugged him and he finally released Azriel’s leg and trouser. Piglet was panting, glaring at Azriel with hate and resentment. 

“Pink,” Azriel began saying, but Piglet snarled at him, baring his teeth and at that point, Fenris grabbed him from Elain’s arms and held him tightly to his chest. At that, something broke inside of Azriel, who watched his best mate in the arms of another man. Now, Fenris had both the dog and Azriel’s woman as his own.

Elain, bless her weak and stupid heart, muttered, “My god, Azriel. You are bleeding! Your suit…”

Azriel was bleeding. From his hand and his thigh and his ankle. His trousers were pretty much ruined. 

Rhysand, who was observing the drama and the raging pug attack, sauntered towards their little group, hands in his pockets, and gave Azriel a once over, shaking his head like a disappointed father. 

“I will make a call to get you new trousers,” he offered. “Who made your suit?”

“Dege and Skinner,” Azriel answered. 

That announcement received a smirk of approval from his billionaire lord cousin and if there was anyone who could get a new pair of trousers delivered in a matter of hours, it would be Rhysand. 

“You need to have this cleaned,” Elain piped, looking at the pooling blood that dripped from his hand. 

“Can you help me?” Azriel asked firmly, taking her by the hand before she could say anything. He tugged her behind him, while Fenris frowned and mouthed ‘I’ll be right here’. Piglet was going nuts again, unhappy that Elain was with Azriel–barking and screaming and snapping and huffing. Fenris cradled him in his arms, rocking him, murmuring to him, as he shielded him from seeing how Azriel pulled Elain with him. Feyre was attempting to calm Piglet down with cheese and bread. Cassian, meanwhile, went to fetch an attendant to clean up the mess on the floor. Nesta was sitting at the table, drinking vodka on the rocks with extra olives, and shaking her head. 

The bridal party was still not here. Probably for the best. 

-

Azriel half dragged Elain into the antechamber reserved for the bridal guests, but seeing as it was empty right now, he closed the door and walked to the adjoining powder room. Elain stood in the middle of the room, looking a little lost and more than apprehensive.

“I can ask Cassian to,” she began saying, but Azriel shook his head stubbornly and ordered, “come here, Elain. Now.”

She picked up her skirt and wet her lower lip nervously, before walking to the powder room.

He had his suit jacket off, and the sleeves of his expensive white shirt rolled up to the elbows–his veined tattooed arms and the network of scars were all on full display and Elain swallowed loudly, still consumed by the need to be touched by those hands and be held within those arms. The white material of the shirt stretched nicely around his massive shoulders and the bulging biceps, and she needed to force herself to look somewhere else, because this was torturous–the close proximity, the scent of him, the sudden realisation that he was next to once again. She had tried to forget how it felt to be near him, tried for almost two months now, but just like that, it all flew out the window. All of her good intentions, because once again, she was next to him and he made her head swim.

Trying to find something to do with her hands, she grabbed a towel and ran it under some cool water. Piglet’s gotten carried away–there was a deep cut from the claws on Azriel’s left arm, and a whole slew of bites on his right.

“I should sue you,” he told her, without humour. “That little fucker needs to be muzzled.”

Elain bristled at his words, but didn���t say anything and only wiped the blood off his left arm. He winced and muttered, “you can’t bring a wild animal to social outings.”

“He is not a wild animal!” she snapped at him. 

He showed her both of his arms and said, “he absolutely is.”

“He was upset with you!” she defended the dog. “Also, he is a pug. I think you’ll survive.”

He looked her up and down, scrubbing his hands and blotting them with paper towels.

“Yeah, I’ll survive,” he scowled. “If he wasn’t a pug, I’d beat his arse.”

Azriel dipped his arms under the faucet once more and then wrapped them with the remaining towels.

“Do I need a rabies shot?” he asked, pressing the towels to his forearms to stem the flow of blood. “This place looks like a murder scene now,” he shook his head.

“No, you don’t need a rabies shot,” she rolled her eyes, and he snorted at her, muttering ‘always with the attitude,”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“I am going to go,” she turned on her heels, annoyed at his attitude, but before she could get away, he clamped his hand on her shoulder and squeezed hard enough to make her stop. Then he spun her around, so she was facing him. 

His expression was closed off and very stony, as he assessed her gown and her general appearance. 

Elain couldn’t help but blush under his scrutiny and squirmed on her toes. 

“What do you want?” she asked nervously. “Your arms will heal.”

Azriel didn’t bother answering, and instead, his hands landed on her shoulders and he drew his thumbs over her protruding collar bones. He looked unamused and said,

“You are too thin. Are you not eating?”

Elain glanced up at him in confusion. 

His tone was…concerned. As if he cared about her. Which made little sense. 

His thumbs kept brushing over her chest, her neck, and then he leaned in and smelled her hair, pressing his cheek to her satin ribbon for a moment. 

“I am fine,” she said abruptly. “I am eating.”

“You are lying,”

“I am not. Besides, it’s none of your business,” she reminded him. “You are a client. I don’t report my eating habits to my clients. Soon to be an ex-client too.”

“Why aren’t you eating?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she shrugged, “I guess I’ve gone through some hard times lately.”

“Did you now?” his hand tightened on her shoulder, and he pulled her even closer.

“I have.”

“Didn’t stop you from finding yourself another man in a month or so,” he commented coldly.

She tried to throw his hand off, but it was no use. He gripped her tightly and then pressed on her shoulder, digging his strong fingers into her flesh.

“Did you fuck him?” he snapped, his expression tight, his amber eyes glowing with a violent, unhinged need.

Elain started and dropped her hand from his arm.

“What?” she whispered.

“Did you fuck him?” he repeated dryly. “Are you fucking him?”

She bristled at his tone and stepped back, but he caught her wrist in his fingers and pulled her closer. His scarred hand cupped her cheek and he brushed his thumb over her throat, staring at her unblinking.

“Why are you asking me this?” she demanded, feeling her skin warm up under his scrutiny. “It’s none of your business!” 

He raised his brow and glowered at her, tension coming off him in waves. His thumb pressed deeper into her neck, pushing on the vein. She wondered if she’d have a bruise after this. 

“None of my business?” he challenged menacingly, that dark, deep voice of his sounding threatening. 

Elain attempted to step back away from him yet again. She was reminded of the wild, untamed beast that lived under his skin. The beast hid well enough, but she knew it was always there, raging to get out and smash through everything in its path. This was a boy who grew up on the rougher streets of Tower Hamlets and then in Lewisham and while he managed to exercise extreme self-control most of the time, right now wasn’t one of those times.

He jerked her back towards him and hissed, 

“Don’t act like you are scared of me!”

She swallowed and whispered, “Maybe I am scared of you right now.”

His expression darkened even further, but also seemed pensive–he was waging an internal battle in his own head.

“You know I’d never hurt you,” he pressed, his thumb caressing the skin of her neck, his eyes wild and hungry. “You know I’ll do anything for you,”

She swallowed hard, feeling unbearably hot in her dress, shaky and angry.

“You are getting married!” she snarled at him. “I am here. For your wedding!”

That seemed to deflate him a bit and he sighed, muttering, “So I am”.

“So what do you want from me?!” she exclaimed, trying and failing to extricate herself from his hold. He didn’t let go.

Instead, he told her firmly, “answer the question!”

“I don’t see how that’s you busi-,”

He didn’t let her finish and snarled, “Another man’s dick in my woman’s cunt is my business. Do you understand that? So answer the fucking question, Elain. Did he fuck you? Did you give him what is mine?”

She stared at him in shock, appalled by his questions and the level of vitriol that he was spewing at her. How dare he?!!? He was the one who left her! He was the one who took off with another woman and now he had the audacity to act like a jealous boyfriend? What the hell was wrong with him?!

“Yes,” she snapped. “No.”

“What the fuck kind of answer is ‘yes and no’?”

He squeezed her cheek and made her look at him. “Tell me.”

Her eyes filled with tears and she hated herself for it, but right now, she didn’t even care. She didn’t care that she was weeping, because she was…she was so tired. Just so tired of the endless heartache. Of not being loved. Of being left again and again and again. 

She hung her head low and whispered, “yes, I slept with him”.

Azriel sucked in a breath, his normally tanned face draining of colour and becoming noticeably paler. 

“Why?” he asked dumbly, staring at her. 

“Why did you leave me?” she asked instead, wiping her face, looking up at him.

He dropped her hand, but when she thought that he’d push her away, he didn’t. Instead, he squeezed her face between his hands and stared at her. 

“Why are you crying?” he asked after a long pause.

She was sniffling and whimpering, locked into his gaze, and unable to shake off his grip on her head. 

“Because I am tired.”

“Of what?” he asked gently.

“Of everything. Of you. I am tired of you. And I am tired of not being loved. I am tired of always being everyone’s second choice.”

“You aren’t though,” he argued. “Not mine.”

“You are marrying another woman!” she cried out loudly, seething and angry. “You told me all this…shit! This nonsense! About how much you liked me,” at that, he cocked his head to the side, listening to her. She continued sniping at him angrily, “And you lied to me. The entire time, I was falling in love with you and you…you,” she was panting, breathless and enraged. “You told me you wanted me. You said that I was your one and only. And then you…you…just walked away and left me!”

Azriel’s expression was empty and his gaze stony when he stepped back away from her and crossed his arms on his chest.

“You are stubborn, ungrateful, obstinate, and arrogant,” he told her plainly, his eyes scorching her, as he stared her down. Her mouth opened to a shocked O. She couldn’t even respond to him, to his horrible words, the insults.

“You are,” he continued. “For months I’ve begged for scraps of your attention. I’ve done everything in my power to be gentle with you, be kind, and love you. I cleaned your house, cooked for you, washed your dishes, cared for your dog–all the while you held me at arm’s length. I courted you like a fucking knight or some shit. I respected your wishes and I treated you with kid gloves. I planned your birthday, I showered you with gifts and attention, I decorated your house when you asked me.

“Whenever you needed me, I was there. Any time, any day. So I ask you–what was not enough, Elain??” he pressed. “I need to know. Why was I not enough for you?”

She was sobbing, her thin shoulders shaking, while he waited for her to respond and listened to the pug going crazy behind closed doors, and shouting coming from the guests. Resolutely, he walked to the double doors and locked them. They were not going to be disturbed.

“I..I…never,” she tried to speak, but couldn’t. 

He was watching her with an alarmingly detached coldness. 

“You never?” he repeated. “That’s right, Elain. You never. You never came to me and told me that you loved me. Not until it was too late. You rejected my affection,”

“That’s not true!” she screamed. “I never did that.”

“I asked you to marry me the first time we met,” he reminded her.

She threw her hands up in the air and exclaimed, “I didn’t take that seriously! You were joking,”

“Was I?” he asked grimly.

“We’d just met!” she exclaimed defensively. “You came to me to find a wife!”

“And yet, I wanted you.”

“I didn’t know!” she babbled. “How was I supposed to have known? I didn’t,”

“You did. I asked you every time I saw you,” he insisted. “You just didn’t want to hear it. You took my words in jest, but don’t pretend that it wasn’t there.”

“That's not fair!” she even stomped her foot petulantly. “You aren’t being fair!”

“Life isn’t fucking fair, Elain. I shoved my hand in your cunt and you came all over my first on your birthday,”

She blushed furiously at that, at his vulgarity.

“Yet, the next fucking day, on Christmas Eve, you threw a fit when you saw a silly little thing on my phone. Oh, I had you in my contacts under ‘Mrs. Night’. The horror. The insult!” he mocked, clutching at his chest. “You started a whole fight with me over that one thing. Which, by the way, came about as a result of your snooping,”

She wiped her tears, but didn’t say anything back. It was true. She had overreacted back then. 

“I’d offered you everything,” he recalled. “My name. My devotion. My love. All you needed to do was to accept that you were mine. That you belonged to me. That you were made for me,”

“I don’t belong to anyone,” she argued, raising her chin at him defiantly. She was angry with him, and just as angry with herself. 

In one frightening, devastating move–so quick that her eyes didn’t even register what she was seeing–he was on her. He grabbed her by the throat and she gasped in terror, waiting for him to squeeze, but he didn’t. He just stared at her, his jowls working overtime. She trembled next to him, swallowing hard against his huge palm.

He said nothing, just held her by the neck, his eyes so dark, they seemed black. Gone was the warm golden brown of them. Gone was his normally jovial, unbothered attitude. He was always intense, but right now, he was menacing. 

“And that’s the problem, isn’t it, Elain?” he sneered at last. His face was close to hers, and she couldn’t help but smell the familiar scent of his skin, of his Tom Ford cologne, and notice the smattering of dark freckles on his tanned cheeks. He really should use sunblock when he played. Even in Britain. Even under its weak, blurry sun.

“What is?” she finally managed to whisper. Her throat felt restricted against his palm and she swallowed again. Involuntarily, her hands squeezed his wrist and his eyes tracked the movement. 

“Stop”. He barked at her.

“Sto-op what?”

“Stop acting like you are afraid of me!” he hissed.

“I am. I am afraid of you,” she confessed. “You are not like this…”

“And how am I?” he wondered, while making no move to release her. 

“You…you,” she mumbled, blinking at him. “You are nice. You…you are good to me.”

“I was,” he confirmed. “Why should I be good to you now?”

“Why are you putting this on me?” she shouted. “What did I do??”

He sighed and reflected, his tone thoughtful, almost bored.

“What you did…It’s what you didn't do,”

“Which is?!” 

“If only you understood that you belong to me, beautiful, everything would’ve been different. I wouldn’t have needed to take all these…drastic measures,”

“Drastic measures?” she gasped. Marrying someone else was a little more than a ‘drastic measure’. 

“If you only acknowledged one simple fact–that you were mine, that you belong to me and with me. If you would have simply submitted to me and accepted the inevitable then things would’ve been different.”

Elain bristled and lifted her chin again, ignoring his hold on her.

“You are sounding psychotic,” she told him simply.

“Perhaps,” he agreed. “But I am telling you how it is.”

She pursed her lips and then managed to push at his chest, trying to dislodge him. He didn’t budge, though now his hold on her throat loosened even more. 

“And yet, all of this love and devotion didn’t stop you from going after another woman,” she rebuked him bitterly. All this ‘you belong to me’ bullshit didn’t stop you from bouncing as soon as you saw an opportunity.”

He let go of her then and walked away, circling the room, his brown knitted, his look tense.

Elain rubbed her throat and winced. He tracked the movement and then stopped his pacing and asked sharply, “are you hurt?”

“I don’t know, Azriel,” she snapped. “You’ve been grabbing at my throat like a caveman since I showed up. I will be bruised, I reckon. Guess I'll consider it your parting gift, huh?”

He waved his hand dismissively, “don’t be dramatic.”

“You are such an arsehole,” she groaned and then turned around and headed for the doors. “Where the hell is your bride? When is this shitshow going to start? Why did you invite us for 11 am, when it’s almost noon and we are nowhere near getting this done.”

“How many times did you fuck him?” he asked instead. 

“Ohmygod, are you back to that?!” she cried, exasperated. “Why do you care?”

“I won’t let anyone touch what’s mine,” “It’s not yours!”

“I beg to differ. So? You are not leaving this fucking room until you tell me,” he warned her.

She sighed and collapsed on a chair–thank god that it was here, because otherwise, she’d just lay on the floor. He was scaring her and exhausting her all at once, and this was promising to be the worst day of her life.

“It’s not what you think it is,” she began and he sighed an annoyed sigh. 

“Great start, Elain,”

She was wringing her fingers, looking down at the floor.

“It’s not new…Fen, that is. We’ve known each other for many years. He isn’t my boyfriend,”

Azriel stared at her, looking for any sign of a lie. 

“I am sure there is more to this,” he prompted patiently.

“I lost my virginity to him,” she told him softly “We dated when we were younger. He is a good man.”

Azriel licked his lips and thought.

“So you brought him here to make me jealous?” he pondered.

“No,” she argued defensively. “I did not want to come alone. And why would you care anyway?”

“Don’t be daft,” he said sternly. “We’ll discuss all of this later.”

Elain sighed. What was there to discuss exactly?

“Can we go back to the guests?” she asked quietly.

He shook his head and said ‘no’. 

“When is Gwyn arriving?” Elain pressed. “I don’t want to be here with you when she arrives.”

He bubbled his lips and muttered, “soon. Soon enough.”

She wasn’t sure what he was referring to, but she didn’t ask. He was already acting strange. She didn’t want to push him further. She understood that there was some internal conflict related to her that he was fighting, but also, it was his wedding day and he was bound to be jittery.

What she didn’t expect were his next words.

“I need to kiss you,” he said, flexing his fingers at his sides. 

“What? No!”

“I said I want to kiss you,” he repeated, coming closer. 

Elain’s  breathing turned fast and jerky, and he could see her pulse through her pale skin. 

“I can’t,” she shook her head. “You are marrying someone else. What are you doing?!” her hands pressed to her chest in a futile attempt to keep him at bay.

He stood over her and then stooped and pressed his hands over the back of the chair, caging her in. 

“You will still deny me?” he questioned, raising his brow at her.

“I am not,” she muttered desperately. “But…but,” she licked her lips, “you aren’t available,”

“Kiss me,” he ordered, and leaned closer, his breath fanning over her face, his hands still squeezing the back of the chair. “I want you to submit to me and kiss me.”

She blinked at him, her expression confused and panicked. 

“Kiss me like you love me,” he urged. 

“I…what…” she kept mumbling, looking around for a way to escape, and knowing there wasn't any. “Why?”

“Because I asked you to,” he said calmly, though his ‘calm’ was somehow terrifying. “And I asked nicely.”

“And if I say ‘no’?” she reached up and timidly touched the back of his neck, feeling how warm his skin was.

“Then I will be forced to take it,” he shrugged. “And you might not like it.”

Elain did not doubt him. Azriel was the type to take what he wanted from her. He always tittered on the edge of consent and force, and it seemed to her that ‘consent’ was more of a modern trapping to him rather than an obligation. This was the same man who made himself comfortable in her house, then in her bed, who’d basically moved into her home without her inviting him, who’d put her on his lap or slapped her ass whenever he felt like it. He didn’t hesitate to tell her what to do and where they’d be going, and took the reins whether she asked him or not. 

“Elain,” he said sternly. “I am waiting.”

She pressed her thighs together under her long skirt, overwhelmed by his closeness and his demand. He watched her carefully, studying her reactions, the muscles under his shirt flexing and rolling beneath the material.

“Come on, beautiful,” he coaxed slowly and warmly, leaning even closer to her. “Give it to me.”

Somehow Elain knew that she wasn’t going to get out of this and frankly, this was on him. He was the one getting married. She wasn’t his moral police–if he wanted to be unfaithful to Gwyn it was up to him. He was a player, after all, and she supposed that this is what it looked like in real time. She was just too stupid to realise before that he wouldn’t have been faithful to her either. 

She pulled her head to her and pressed her lips to his.

It wasn’t a sensual kiss. 

It was angry.

Azriel pulled back away from her quickly and she thought that it was over. She exhaled a ragged breath.

He looked at her, head cocked, and then suddenly kissed her nose lightly. It was gentle. Playful.

Then his hand shot up and he pressed his thumb to her mouth, running it slowly over her lower lip, feeling it up, reminding her with his touch of how she used to kiss his fingers and his scarred hands. How she called them beautiful.

Without warning, he pushed his thumb between her lips, deeper than she even expected and she sucked on it nervously, her tongue wrapping around the digit. He smiled, watching her.

“Good girl,” he praised, rubbing his thumb against her tongue. “This isn’t very difficult, is it?”

She couldn't answer, her mouth being fully occupied, as she sucked and licked him, but it felt normal. It felt normal to offer him pleasure. Familiar even. She liked pleasing him. Always have. 

She nodded. No, it wasn’t difficult.

With his thumb still inside her mouth, he leaned in and kissed her. 

She paused, but he pushed his finger over her tongue, urging her to continue, while his warm, full lips languidly sucked on her own. He smelled good and tasted the way she remembered, and the way she loved. The kiss was hungry and possessive, and he kissed the way she loved being kissed. She forgot everything for a few blissful moments, when her fingers slipped from his neck and squeezed his obscenely firm biceps, luxuriating in the solid mass of his body. 

“Fucking gorgeous,” he murmured into her mouth. She tilted her head back, allowing him better access, and he fell into the kiss with rabid determination, eliciting a breathless whine from her full lips. His tongue met hers, overtaking it at once, and unbothered by the presence of his finger. He licked on her slowly, but thoroughly, bruising her lips with how hard he sucked and tugged on them and not feeling the littlest bit of shame. 

“Gorgeous,” he repeated, “but fucking stupid.”

Elain gasped and pulled back, her eyes opening up. She pushed his thumb out forcefully with her tongue and panted, looking at him.

He straightened and she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Why am I stupid?” she challenged. 

“I don’t know,” she crossed his arms and propped himself against the wall. “You are posh. Probably makes you naive. To a stupid degree.”

“I am not naive,” she argued.

“No, you really are. Like you don’t see anything that’s in front of your eyes.”

“And what’s in front of my eyes?” 

Azriel rubbed his chin and instead of answering, he suddenly said,

“Do you know how difficult it is to find someone who looks like you in porn?”

Elain was pretty sure that it was a rhetorical question, even if she didn’t understand it.

What, she mouthed, utterly confused by this new, odd revelation. Her lips were still tingling from his kiss. She was hot. She hoped someone had some deodorant. 

“Took me weeks of scrolling on PornHub,” he continued, and she wasn’t sure if he was speaking to her or to himself. “I tried and I tried to find something suitable. But how do you search for a posh bird on PornHub, who looks like you and would get all her holes filled?”

“Azriel…” she murmured, blushing violently. “Don’t say things like that…”

“I mean, I watched a lot of porn to finally land on a girl who resembled you. My dick was chafed,”

“Azriel!”

“After all that, all I could come up with was one scene. One. I jacked off to that scene for weeks. She did look like you–not in your fancy fucking way–but she had the same pink tits and the shape of the body was similar. Your big long hair. 

“She was a lot more submissive than you,” he added. “But that could be worked on, right?”

“I think you are rambling,” she rose from her chair and smoothed down her gown. “And I think I am done with you.”

“Oh no, Elain,” he smiled a cruel smile. “You aren’t done with me. Because I am not done with you.”

“Whatever you say,” she shrugged and headed for the door.

Then she overheard his sneer,

“Still stupid. Even now.”

She turned around swiftly and shouted, “What the hell?! Stop calling me stupid! I am not!”

“You are,” he said flatly. “You are. Because you never realised that all of it was a lie.”

[deadghosy]

FRIENDSHIP HCS WITH HAZBIN HOTEL CAST

Various x GN! READER

LUCIFER

You are his first best friend who understood his divorce and mostly how depressed he was after Lilith. But you helped him see better light at spending time with his daughter as he didn’t know how to talk to his daughter after years.

This man is clingy towards you at time. Literally he is calling your hellphone 24/7 out of his time and your time. One time you overslept and didn’t answer his calls. This motherfucker called you 69 times and next thing you know, your wall is busted to find a full demon formed worried Lucifer. After he had seen you were alive and well he smiles awkwardly at your wall.

Lucifer makes it know that you are his best friend so you won’t be harmed. But also you might be targeted, he knows he would snap a demon in half if you came into harm’s way.

This man literally sends you ducks in your mailbox. One time he made you a duck theme birthday party with your favorite colors with the cast of the hotel staff.

Lucifer and you have matching duck onesies, outfits, rings, shirts that says “I’m the duckling” and “return duckling to older duck”. You were immediately embarrassed but wore it for his sake. 

One time you had to take off the matching duck ring to wash dishes and Lucifer came to your place ready to rant about this duck he made for you so you can blow bubbles with it. As soon he sees you without the ring, he is gasping dramatically asking you if you don’t want to be friends with him with a kicked puppy expression. You sighed at the powerful man saying no as you dried your hands off putting the ring back.

If you had a nightmare, he would be there. If your cramping to pain, he would be there. Oh you’re crying? He’s there with a napkin. Literally he’s there for you as you were there for him when he couldn’t get over Lilith.

ANGEL DUST

If you came from the same industry as him, yeah you both talk shit about Valentino. Like bad shit to the point you two are laughing like hyenas from lion king.

If you aren’t from the industry he is in. You support him. Bread is bread.

I can see Angel always making you two shop and go clubbing as a way to keep you happy and show you how much he cares about your happiness.

I also headcannon that his hugs are like heaven itself with his many arms and his chest fluff. You nuzzle your face in his chest fluff as he chucks with you.

You both make dirty jokes to the point people are sick of it in the hotel or in public. It’s funny to make each other laugh but everyone else insufferable by the jokes.

You two definitely watch RuPaul's Drag Race as you both would make comments on the people in it. Thank god you died with a human world tv.

CHARLIE

She’s like her father but less clingy.

Matching bracelets, match outfits, matching everything as she wants you to redeem if you are a sinner. But if you aren’t a sinner that means she doesn’t have to cry about you leaving her.

You are know as either the princess’s “pet” or just her best friend as it’s pretty clear you two are close.

If you are in a royal family like her, you could definitely help her hotel go into business as you can’t let a friend’s dream go into waste.

VAGGIE likes you as you help her girlfriend around the hotel and herself.

You went out one night as Charlie was worried like a mother who lost her child. She had to send Alastor to find you as he found you at a shopping mall getting clothes. After Charlie scolded you about dangerously is at night. You gotta admit you felt attached to Charlie after she shown her worried side at you.

You two got closer as you two bake cookies for the hotel staff. Hell you even help Charlie get ready for a date with vaggie and it’s funny seeing Charlie freak out over a simple outfit decision.

VAGGIE

If you two knew each other by being angels together, you were saddened to know she was left in hell as you stayed in heaven. As you see her again in court, your eyes light up. Her eyes tear up hugging you. It was an amazing sight in-front of Charlie as Charlie introduced herself. You smile at Charlie and made her feel welcome.

After knowing her plans to redeem sinners, you agree with her like Emily does. It was sad to you again to see vaggie and Charlie go back to hell defeated.

If you are a sinner or hell born, she definitely didn’t trust you at first but soon trusted you not feeling any malice intentions. So you two definitely got along.

You two make sure the hotel is fine.

If VAGGIE chooses to tell you that she is actually an angel, you support you and figure a way for her and Charlie to talk it out. But if Adam bets it to you, vaggie rant about how much an ass adam is for spelling the beans before vaggie can do it with your help.

I headcannon vaggie to be a friend who would listen to your problems a lot and try to fix them but can’t as she doesn’t know how to specifically help you. But she tries her hardest as she always do.

I also headcannon vaggie to let you do her hair as she finds it’s nice to have a friend who is there for her like her girlfriend Charlie. Charlie is also glad to see her partner have a best friend.

ALASTOR

Who would know that the old man had a friend.

PFTTT THIS OLD FUCKER USES YOU AS A ARMY REST! If you are short of course which is obvious that this mf is tall as hell.

If you two knew each other and were partner in crimes and died in hell. He is literally making you an overlord too. He doesn’t have time to worried about you being killed in hell. Plus if you didn’t die to someone. He is killling them in a slow agonizing death for the punishment of killing you.

I headcannon this mf waiting for you in hell after he died, he literally taps his foot checking his wrist hearing you scream. You drop next to him as his shadows place you down lightly beside him.

“What took you long darling!” He says with his creep grin. “I tried to kill the fucka who murdered ya ass” you said as he drops you to the ground due to your foul language.

But yeah I can see you two being platonic soulmates or partners in another life.

I headcannon Alastor sending his shadow minions to find you or just at least check up on you so he can make sure you are safe. Alastor isn’t big on showing PDA. But he definitely shows it by his shadow minions.

You could be having a bad day and he send his demons to give you a puppet show. You chuckle at how dumb it is but at least Alastor smile knowing you are smiling.

HUSK

This grumpy son of a gun will drink listening to you rant, literally you could rant about how some demon tried to rob you and he would drink nodding away.

You had to hide his booze.

But if he was sober, he would still be the same. But slight more grumpy as booze lightens him up.

I headcannon husk that he waltz on drunk into your room and snore beside you who literally got done watching a horror movie.

Bro woke up on the floor with a show thrown at him.

Husker lets you touch his paws as your eyes light up with stars at this. He literally grumbles with purrs erupting from his chest. Hell he knows he purrs but hates it.

One time you pet his wings and his purr was so loud, you both had derpy shocked faces. Ever since that day, you tease him badly about it as he grumbles flipping you off.

He is also the kind of friend to actually listen to you and solve your issues but not fully as it’s your problems and not his. He is just a drunk bartender

I headcannon you two argue over uno to the point you two actually almost fought. Thanks to Charlie who broke you and husk apart from ripping each other throats open.

I headcannon husk curls like a cat when sleeping, so if he is drunk in your room. He sleeps on your bed like a cat as you just sit there confused with a tired expression.

NIFFTY

You two cause so much chaos.

This little manic always cleans your room first.

I can see her telling you about people she killed with a smile on her face. You guys have a dance party when no one is looking as it fun with each other.

One time she accidentally cut her finger and you helped her get a bandage with a skull on it. And she loved it! She asked more of the bandages you got as she loved the design.

Niffty who sleeps on your bed when she misses you

Niffty who stabs bugs in your room who dares to scare you if you don’t like bugs.

SIR PENTIOUS

He lets you take care of his eggs boiz.

You and him bake cookies for each other out of friendship, he made cookies that look like you. It was poorly drawn but it melted your heart. You shown him your cookies that looked like him and he was in tears hugging as he felt amazed at you making cookies for him.

He wraps his tail around you if you both are watching a horror movie. You guys have matching bracelets with your favorite color and his favorite color. When Charlie first heard and seen it, she almost bursted into tears seeing it as it was so adorable.

He literally rants about his creations and killing machines. He was gonna make you his number 1 right hand before he went to the hazbin hotel. You joined him to the hazbin hotel as you two share a liking towards Charlie and her dreams.

But after you and Pentious died and got redeemed together. You two cried holding each other hoping the others were safe in the battle of the angels.

That’s all I have for the headcannons in my head. But I hope you love em.🔥

[unluckilyimnot]

Hiii!! I loooooveee your blog so much!! Every time I see your notifications, I get like SUPER HAPPY!! It really makes my day!! AND SOMEHOW I DIDN'T SEE THAT YOUR REQUESTS ARE OPEN?? Could you do the types of dates kurona, otoya, and karasu from bluelock would go to? ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Date with kurona, otoya, karasu, isagi, rin

m.list | rules

Note: Hiiiii omg your message make me so happy thank you sm 🤍 I hope it's what you expected

Kurona

He would loves outside date

Things like aquarium and parks, which is chill but you can still have fun and take great pictures

He changes his lockscreen all the time

He's kinda shy with pda but if you take his hand while walking around the aquarium he would love it a lot

He can stay a lot of time around jellyfish, the color it captivating

He can be loud around bigger animals like sharks or tortoises

Absolutely wants a matching keychain with both your favorite animals

He's most likely to play around if you're in places like parks so he would initiate contacts more

But he also like to take a plaid and lay down with you while toi read or just make fun about people around you

He would never be mean but likes to play along

Tag with along with some ice cream or a very fresh drink and you have a perfect date for him

Otoya

He tries to impress you even if you're already dating lmao

Would try to teach you how go skate

So you can fall into his arms or cling onto him

It's a good excuse to touch you outside

But he would really love to do it with you so he takes it seriously, don't worry

He would feel bad if you get hurt tho

He wouldn't say it out loud but you notice how super serious he'd become

He has a good sense of style so he would like to go shopping as well !

Window shopping is something he really likes

Add a coffee to the equation and he's the happiest!

Really to hear you talk about style and how you could style a piece with what you already have

Karasu

On the other hand, karasu knows he has nothing to prove

So he'll be chill about date

Don't get it wrong: he will plain it on every part and regularly (if not all the time)

And he wants to win your heart over and over again

But he also know that you love him and that staying inside with a movie only is enough

Yet he prefers to make it better like baking while watching a Disney movie!

Bonus point if you make something from the movie

Or while watching an old sitcom

Be prepared to have flour on your nose and for him to kiss it away

Rin

Football date, tell me he wouldn't

He takes you with him to see the matches of his favorite team

Or just with a pizza (for once) at home

He probably prefers date at home in fact

Even if he's not against it if you want so to something outside

Horror movie marathon

This is a routine, you have one every week, that's his cheating moment of the week

He stays up late, eat junk-food with you and don't get up early next morning

He loves it so much to be honest

His arm is around you all the time, pulling you against him if you're scared

He can also hide his face in your hair if needed

Bonus point if you fell asleep in his arms

Isagi

He would love taking a walk around the town and go see museum or important location

Like he read something about a place and he wanted to go check with you !

If you like historical places as well he's in heaven

I swear he falls in love again I'd you know some things and tell him as a cute funfair about the place

The type to find cute coffee shop that are not crown or trending

So be prepared ! He wants to try them all

And if you're a coffee or tea lover he simply needs to hear how you feel about it

His insta feed is mostly you on date and some pictures of the place (along with football)

I hope you liked it !

[anadiasmount]

hershey kisses - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: dad! jude coming home to being left confused why his girlfriend wont kiss him. maybe a chocolate kiss could solve his worries?

wc: 1.4k | masterlist | jude's masterlist

psa🗣️: had not seen dad! jude on the timeline for a minute so i wrote a small fic! this is not my best work so i'm sorry, but I hope you still enjoy ☹️🤍

“hi, my chunky man! you finally woke up,” you cood at your 9-month-old who yawned loudly and rubbed his eyes. he had been asleep since the match started, sleeping all the way through and not once making a sound. he cuddled into your neck as you fixed his loose-fitted jersey and brushed his curls back. he smiled when you repeatedly kissed his cheek and ran your hand across his back.

“someones’ still tired,” you said noticing him yawn again, walking out of his monster's inc themed nursery and into the kitchen where you were preparing the batter for your favorite cookies. you took advantage of his nap and cleaned around the house, playing music softly against the background as you picked up clothes, toys, and dishes lingering around. 

you pulled out a go-squeeze and fed it to zak, who downed it quick. after serving water in his sippy cup, you also put a small handful of the baby puffs and sat him on his toy mat where he watched his dad on the screen being interviewed. “dada!” zak squealed, pointing and made grabbing motions at the tv with his chunky hand. “that's right. dada scored again! can you believe it?” you baby talked watching as he showed you his four front teeth. 

you quickly changed the channel and put on his favorite cartoons, going back to the kitchen and grabbing an ice cream scoop, scoping out small chunks of the dough onto the parchment paper, often looking up to make sure zak was okay. before you put them into the oven, you placed hersey kisses in the middle, popping one, well more than three into your mouth. 

“smells good in here,” jude sighed, smelling the cookies and quickly setting his stuff down by the door. zak bear crawled over to jude, making the two of you laugh at his speed to be held by his dad. jude’s heart warmed at the sight of the small but loose jersey on zak, immediately crouching down and picking up the baby in diapers. 

“scored a goal for you,” jude kissed his forehead, and then felt your hands go around his torso, “and meant it for you,” he said leaning down and giving you a kiss on the lips. “so proud of you handsome,” you squeezed his cheek and went back to the kitchen, hearing the timer go off. “that's it? that’s all i get even after scoring a goal for you?” he joked, zak kicking his feet as jude followed you into the kitchen. 

“baby, you know i'm always proud of you right? plus i’m baking us cookies,” you said in an obvious tone, jude watching you grab the christmas mitten and pull the cookies out of the oven. “you listening to this zak? momma doesn’t love me,” he muttered, tickling his neck and then sides, your baby bursting into laughter. 

you cocked your head to the side at his comment, asking yourself inwardly if he was being serious or not, but knowing he was joking, two can play for two. after putting the cookies on the rack and letting them cool down, you also prepared hot chocolate, also warming up zak’s bottle so he can be feed after he ate his dinner. 

you purposefully had avoided and dodged three of his kisses, either pulling away from his grip, or moving your head to the side, jude giving you a confused glance everytime. you wanted to tease him a bit for the joke he said, but also wanted to prank him by giving him a hershey kiss. it's not that you were trying to ignore him, jude’s kisses felt like heaven, getting lost even if it was a small peck, but it was just a small joke.  

jude was upset, left wondering if he had done or said something before he left. instead of overthinking it like he always did, he played with zak, blowing raspberries into his tummy, and played with the small firefighter toy truck he had, mimicking the sirens and watching as your son died from laughter. 

jude looked over to where you were, frowning as your attention had gazed somewhere else. An hour and a half later, zak was fussy, knowing he wanted to sleep. jude grabbed his bottle and went to his room where he changed him out the jersey and into dinosrour themed pj’s, changing his diaper as well. 

he rocked him slowly, brushing back his curls and humming a small lullaby to sleep. “i hope you know you and your mom are the best things to exist in my life. although she’s mad at me for some reason and acting stubborn with me, i love her and you to death” after placing a small kiss on his chunky cheek, he set him down gently onto his crib. tucking the white bunny under his arm, and pulling the small blanket over his body. 

jude walked back downstairs, rolling his eyes at you. not only did he let his overthinking get the best of him, but he was now annoyed you were refusing to talk to him even after avoiding his kisses. he grabbed the remote and sat on the couch, different scenarios running through his head on why you would be upset with him. 

after scrolling through some comments on his latest post, he heard your voice call for him. “babe come here for a second?” you giggled inside, grabbing a wrapped hershey kiss from the bag, almost bursting into laughter as jude walked in seriously, with crossed arms and with a pout. “what a child” you thought. 

“i think i know why you are upset with me,” you attempted to sound resentful, but jude just nodded for you to continue your explanation. “i think it's due to the fact i haven't let you kiss me…” you looked away dramatically, shaking your head. you caged him into the countertop, jude becoming nervous at your proximity. 

all jude could do was stare confused, “do you want a kiss?” you sighed dramatically, playfully rolling your eyes, watching as a frown appear on his face, now leaning against the counter top. you ran your hands against his chest and then down to his biceps, goosebumps running along his skin as you leaned up. jude became tense for some reason, all of a sudden becoming nervous. 

his lips had parted, lips barely touching his, and you quickly placed the unwrapped chocolate into his mouth, letting out a fit of giggles as he cockily smirked at you. you ran quietly around the kitchen trying to avoid the 6ft tall man who wanted to catch you. when he finally did he grabbed you by the back of your thighs and sat you onto the countertop where you had caged him before. 

“woman? do you not know how worried i was? thinking  i had done something to you?” jude confessed still laughing and catching his breath, pushing back your hair and cupping your cheek. “i was scared you were going to make me sleep on the couch again,” he said, reminding you of the time he pissed you off and you made him sleep downstairs. later tucking back into bed with you.

“so you're not mad at me?” he asked shyly, wanting confirmation you weren't mad or upset with him. “no baby, i was just joking around,” you laughed, hearing a deep chuckle come out his throat. while he continued to cup your cheek, your hands ran along his sides anticipating his next move. “i hope you know that means you owe three kisses,” he said along your lips, kissing your nose. “four after the chocolate i gave you,” you reminded him. “that's right, four kisses you owe me.”

“well what are you waiting for?” you say timidly, becoming intimidated by his strong gaze. “i'm thinking whether you deserve my kisses or not?” he says playfully, observing the way you bite your lip and your hands pulling him closer by his back. “kiss me jude… i know you want it,” you close your eyes, breathing in his still present cologne. 

“that’s right, i do want it.”

his lips brushes against yours, your tummy fluttering at his needy but soft movements, jude’s hand coming from your cheek now to your hip. he tugged you closer, wanting to fill the smallest space that was left, letting a groan at the chocolate taste that remained in your mouth. he licked his lips, pulling away and chuckling at your pout, running his thumb along your now swollen lips.

“your kisses are way better than the chocolate ones.”

[the-slumberparty]

🍨Navy & Roo's Sundae Bar🍨

Welcome to Navy and Roo’s Sundae Bar! 

*rules at the bottom*

𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕝𝕖𝕖𝕡𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕥, 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕞𝕒𝕪 𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕪 𝕗𝕝𝕒𝕧𝕠𝕦𝕣, 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕠𝕡 𝕠𝕣 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 (𝕧𝕚𝕤𝕦𝕒𝕝 𝕠𝕣 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕟) 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕗𝕝𝕒𝕧𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕤. 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕓𝕖 𝕒𝕗𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕗𝕝𝕒𝕧𝕠𝕦𝕣. 𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝕒 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕖𝕩𝕥𝕣𝕒, 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕒 𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕥! 

*Click below the cut to see more.*

🍧Vanilla: ‘only one bed’ - a classic flavour for a classic trope. Your characters are stranded and they have to share a sleeping space. 

🍧Chocolate: a secret revealed – for a flavour as dark and rich as chocolate, you need a secret just as delicious. One (or more) of your characters has a dirty little secret revealed. 

🍧Strawberry: berry picking – isn't it obvious? Fresh strawberries are best and berry picking is a sweet summertime activity. Your characters go berry picking, how their adventure ends is up to you. Fluffy, smutty, or even, dark. 

🍧Neopolitan: love triangle – three's a crowd! Whether it’s poly, a crush on someone taken, a third wheel date, or a spicy threesome, there’s more to love in this combination. 

🍧Black Cherry: enemies to lovers – a dark flavour has a sweet tang. So your characters go from one extreme to the other, hate to love. 

🍧Mint Chocolate: the loner – mint chocolate is an acquired taste, so it is that one of your characters is of a similar flavour. A loner is brought out of their shell. 

🍧Cookie Dough: bakery au – cookie dough proves that a bit of baking can make anything better. Your characters now live in a bakery au, whether they work there, or come as customers, they can’t resist the sweet aura. 

🍧Cookies and Cream: soulmates – it's a match made in heaven and without one, the other just feels incomplete. Your characters are soulmates, but how their fates align is up to you. 

🍧Rocky Road: rags to riches – it's been a long road. Cinderella, a lottery winner, a sudden inheritance. You decide how your character gets their windfall. 

🍧Pistachio: rare pair – pistachio isn’t the most popular, but it’s there. Your pairing isn't a common one, but we know you can make it delicious. 

🍧Bubble Gum: slow burn – a bit of chewing is in store. So we will anxiously savour the slow burn between your characters. 

🍧Butter Pecan: mutual pining - a pecan isn’t the same as a pine nut, but it’s close enough. We want to see your characters yearn and even lust all while facing obstacles; whether their own fear of rejection, shyness, or social expectations, they just can’t get to each other. 

🍧Birthday Cake: secret admirer – it doesn’t have to be your birthday to have this flavour. And your secret admirer leaves you gifts every day, but just won’t give you the one thing you desperately want: their identity. 

🍧Butterscotch: childhood friends – every kid likes butterscotch. Your characters have been friends forever, but could they be more? 

🍧French Vanilla: stranded/locked in - vanilla, but make it fancy. Forced proximity to the max. Whether your characters have to work together to escape or survive, or just need to wait out the night, they’re stuck together. 

*toppings are optional, you do not need to use one for your submission.

🥄Sprinkles: a special event - a wedding, a party, a baby shower; make your setting a special get together. 

🥄Chocolate Syrup: established relationship – your characters are already involved, with each other or someone else, adding a bit of messiness to the plot. 

🥄Graham Crackers: flashback – a brief trip into the past reveals something important. 

🥄Gummy Bears: bad luck – your character is just having a bout of misfortune. 

🥄Bananas: eavesdropping – your characters overheard something they shouldn’t have, or misinterpreted a whisper. 

🥄Cherries: meet-cute – this can be fluffy or a stereotypical first meeting gone wrong 

🥄Toasted Almonds: heartbreak – your character is going through a heartbreak 

🥄Oreos: marriage of convenience – your characters marry for the greater good, but maybe not their own 

🥄Peanuts: revenge – someone's getting revenge 

🥄Caramel: drunk/delirious/not in their right mind – one or more of your characters is not thinking straight 

We encourage sundae bar patrons to share this post, both to boost this challenge, or for your own purposes (requests, etc). Thank you all and enjoy your ice cream! 

This challenge is open to all fandoms and characters.

🍒Dark creations are accepted but we will not accept underage, incest, or bestiality. Please don’t forget to add warnings to your works appropriately.

🍒For written pieces, there are no word count limits, but we do ask that you add a “read more” beyond 500 words.

🍒We hope that creators can create an inclusive work and encourage writers and creators to use appropriate tagging, ie, f!reader, etc..

🍒 For this challenge, we will accept sequels or continuations to previous works. Please be sure to link the original work in your submission.

🍒Creators may submit three pieces of each medium (up to three visual pieces and up to three written pieces)

🍒Be kind to yourself and to others. We are here to support and include each other.

🍒This is an event for the summer, with a final due date of September 8 for late submissions.

!Tag this blog in your submission so we see it!

[theseeingfawn]

My Elriel Subscription list on AO3

Below are the MANY Eriel fics I am currently subscribed to and DYING for more of…

🌹A Court of Blooming Sight by katkos96

Summary: Post ACOSF and HOFAS Eriel fan fic! This fan fic will try and stay as canon as possible, with theories based off of many lovely creators as well as my own. There may be some head canons involved, as we have not had a book come out yet, but any theories and the minds behind them will be tagged. This is duel-pov between Elain and Azriel!

🌹A Court of Sunlight and Shadows by Ahimadala

Summary: Just when Elain thought she had found balance since her life was turned upside down, someone begins to doubt the true nature of her powers. Koschei threatens the fragile peace that has settled over Prythian with his search for the cauldron. However, its power is now inextricably linked to the one who has been gifted by it.

🌹A Match Baked In Heaven by NikeTheStatue

Summary: Elain Archeron, owner of the prestigious Marigold Agency, which specializes in exclusive matchmaking has a new and very challenging client. Azriel Night, football superstar, 'stubborn as a mule' (according to his brother Cassian), handsome womanizer is under pressure to find himself a wife. At stake--a 230 million inheritance.

🌹A Shot in the Darkest Dark by yourstarsmyscars

Summary: It was always those who understood fate the least who spoke most freely of it, as though the future were a path carved of marble, all roads leading in one direction, and one direction alone.

It was always meant to be this way, they said, never understanding that fate was chaos and not order, madness with no clarity. And fate could be changed, if you knew which strands to pluck.

🌹Chiaroscuro (Series) by Meraki_Moonglade/a>

Summary: A collection of beautifully told stories on the budding relationship between Elain and Azriel.

🌹Cruel Summer by slythrhys

Summary: With a broken heart and a bruised ego, Elain tries to survive a week living alongside Azriel in her family's summer home, where they all gather to celebrate Nesta and Cassian's wedding.

🌹Everywhere, Everything by duskandcobalt

Summary: Two close friends, one crossed line… After a decade of friendship, Elain and Azriel are left to navigate the fallout following an encounter that's far from platonic. or A friends to lovers fic about denial and longing.

🌹Forgotten Bonds by noedovenest

Summary: After the events of ACOSF, Elain is torn between exploring her bond with her mate and her growing affection for Azriel.

🌹Golden Doe in a Valley of Shadow by Violetasteracademic

Summary: A week after Solstice, Elain is lost and heartbroken by Azriel's rejection. A surprise encounter with Lucien in the townhouse leads to an offer Elain wasn't expecting, and a readiness to face the future.

🌹High Infidelity by tswaney17

Summary: Elain and Azriel are fuck buddies, nothing more. But when a word slips out in the heat of the moment, their entire relationship comes to a screeching halt.

🌹Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince by yourstarsmyscars

Summary: Fresh off a brutal break-up, Elain is in need of a distraction. A casual fling. One no strings bad idea, with a guy she definitely won't get attached to, so she can finally move on. Azriel has lost count of the number of women who've come to regret meeting him. But while he may be the worst idea Elain has had in a while, he's determined to prove that she won't regret him.

🌹Satin and Steel by airelemental

Summary: Princess/Knight alternate universe. Elain Archeron is on her way to visit her sister, the newly crowned queen of Prythian. With no romantic prospects and a new inheritance of all of her parents' land and most of their wealth, Elain wants nothing more than to lead a quiet life where she's finally in charge of her own destiny.

Upon her arrival, King Rhysand appoints his highest ranking knight, Sir Azriel, as her royal guard and chaperone. She thinks he's a brute and is appalled at the idea of someone following her around everywhere she wishes to go during her stay. He finds her spoiled and can think of a thousand different ways to better spend his time.

🌹Shining Through That Moonless Night by tealeaves_and_rosepetals

Summary: Good intentions went wrong on the night of Solstice, and ever since, Elain and Azriel have struggled through days that felt darker and colder without the joy of the secret love that grew between them. Yet for both of them, a tiny glimmer of hope remains, bright and unyielding.

[doodle-do-wop]

Stina and Fitz hc because I'll never shut up about the Heks family

They have special nicknames for each other because they're baking buddies

Fitz is Pastry Boy and Stina is Sweet-Tart (they gave each other the nickname)

They're cuddle buddies

They so touched starved for cuddles 

The real telepath and empath duo the world needed

Fitz hasn't ever had a baking buddy before Stina so he info dumped for a solid five minutes without stopping until he realized what he was doing

But what Fitz doesn't know is that Stina's the biggest fucking nerd in all of history

She info dumped back and Fitz knew they were a match made in bakery heaven

Fitz is super competitive and Stina commits to the bit with her entire soul (they have flour fights occasionally to the point where Vika once walked into the kitchen and set off a timer to get their attention)

Stina loves to experiment with flavors and textures while Fitz is a perfectionist about decoration

The perfect duo for sitting in a room together and doing silent individual activities (they couldn't be happier just sitting and doing their own thing together)

Fitz shows up to things ridiculously early to the point where he once showed up to a Horse Girls riding lesson multiple hours early, Stina was barely getting ready

He apologized for ages but Stina hushed him real quick and let him just sit on her bed while she continued to get ready and Fitz knocked out like a light while he waited

Fitz and Stina have gotten to the point in their friendship where Fitz just falls asleep on Stina's bed and Stina just continues her daily routine

Stina has zero patience for the entirety of Team V but will turn right around after just telling them to shut up and fully give Fitz an in depth explanation about an old Horse Girls inside joke she said

"Your secrets' safe with me......and Fitz" "and Mister Pinky Nose" "and Mister Pinky Nose" "and Mr Snuggles-" "and Mr Snuggles."

They're infecting each other with their habits; Stina's picked up Fitz's dramatic ass landing poses and Fitz has picked up the same sassy attitude and pointed looks Stina does when she crosses her arms or puts her hands on her hips

Part 1/???