#i usually wear a polo shirt i got at work with an undershirt; jeans and boots and my apron and name badge is over the top of all of that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scuttling · 3 years

Text

(Not So) Casual Friday

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 4,456 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch (it's not a main component but he very much has the tummy here), Pining, Accidentally admitting attraction, Embarrassment, A little angst, Oral sex, Protected sex Summary: Your best friend Derek finds out about your feelings for Hotch and teases you mercilessly. You can manage it, though, until the first ever Casual Friday, when Hotch shows up to work in a black polo and jeans and you kind of ruin everything. Or maybe you don't? *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! “Okay, girlie, today’s the day,” Derek says when you set your bag and coffee cup on your desk on Monday morning. You shoot your best friend a tired smile and wonder for the—you’ve worked at the BAU for almost two years, so it’s probably the 500th time—for the 500th time why he has to be such a morning person when you would prefer not to have a conversation until at least 10 AM.

“Today’s the day for what?” you sigh, asking out of obligation, because it’s obvious that’s what he’s waiting for; he smiles, picks up your coffee and hands it to you, which must mean you sound bitchy. You take a grateful sip, close your eyes and exhale through your nose.

“For you to admit to me that you’re in love with Hotch.”

You spit out your coffee—only all over yourself, which is great, wouldn’t want to inconvenience Derek at all—and then cough so hard he has to thump on your back to help clear your airway.

It draws some attention; Hotch comes out of his office, takes a look at the two of you and probably regrets hiring the both of you, then walks down the stairs to make sure you’re okay.

“What happened? You’re wet,” he says a bit gruffly, looking at the coffee all over your chest and sleeves. You glare over at Derek, who’s clearly trying not to laugh.

“Derek made me spill my coffee.” You grab a handful of tissues off your desk and pat at the wet spot, trying to soak up the worst of it, but it’s not salvageable. You’ll have to change your shirt.

“And then you… choked on it?” Hotch asks, to clarify. Derek does laugh at that; the things Hotch is saying happen to have dual meanings, slightly sexual, and now that Derek knows—thinks he knows—about your thing for Hotch, it’s clear he finds it all so hilarious. He’s a twelve year old boy in a grown man’s body.

“Okay, I didn’t spill, I spit,” you correct, looking up at them, and Derek makes an exaggerated face of disapproval.

“Should have swallowed,” he says, trying to sound serious, and you shoot him an irritated look and reach out to slap him in the chest. Asshole.

“Do you need help getting cleaned up?” Hotch’s expression is kind, sweet, but you’d sooner die than have him blot coffee off of your boobs. It would be mortifying, especially in front of Derek.

“No, no, I think I’m okay. Thanks,” you add with a soft smile, and then you reach up and pull your sweater over your head, unzip your go bag, and search for another top.

For some reason, Hotch has a coughing fit scarily similar to the one you just had, and you turn to pat his back like Derek did for you.

“Are you alright?” you ask, looking up into his face, and he nods despite his watering eyes.

“Fine,” he croaks, and he leaves as quickly as he came. You sigh, because it’s not even nine and your day has already been so weird.

You’re wearing a tank top, and thankfully the coffee didn’t get through to that layer, so it’s quick and easy to throw another lightweight sweater over top of it; you ball up the wet one, shove it in the dirty clothes portion of your bag, zip it up and stash it under your desk. Derek looks like he’s having the best day of his life.

“You realize you just undressed in front of Hotch,” he says with a tone you don’t appreciate. You roll your eyes.

“I did not. I had a tank top on underneath.” You almost always wear an undershirt, because you’ve been a cop long enough to know that sometimes your clothes get torn or messed up in the line of duty, and you’re not trying to offer a free show while taking down an unsub. Derek wiggles his eyebrows, points at your chest.

“Yeah, one that put those little boobies on display. His eyes bulged out of his head like a cartoon character.” This time, you punch him in the arm, hard. It’s too goddamn early for this.

“Can you please shut up already? I don’t have a thing for Hotch.”

“Ah, I didn’t say you had a thing, I said you’re in love with him. And I have evidence; lots of it.” You tip your head back, groan, wondering what you did to deserve a best friend who is also such a pain in the ass, and it’s that moment that Hotch chooses to rejoin you; he looks a little flushed, probably from the coughing earlier.

“Uh. We have a case; I know not everyone is here yet, but you can head up to the briefing room, I’ll grab the others when they arrive.”

“Sure thing, sir,” you say easily, grabbing your tablet and what’s left of your coffee; you gesture for Derek and he follows, laughing and shaking his head. “Okay, what is it now? I’m so glad you find me entertaining today.”

“‘Sure thing, sir,’” he says with a high, breathy voice you assume is supposed to mimic yours. “You want his dick so bad.” You narrow your eyes at him as you head upstairs.

“Uh, because I was being respectful? I know that’s a foreign concept for you, the world’s biggest asshole, but you don’t have to read anything into it.” You take your usual seats at the table, pull up the note-taking app on your tablet, and Derek sits back, crosses his arms behind his head.

“Well you’re not calling me ‘sir’, and I’m the sexiest piece in the office, so it’s hard not to read into it.” You look over at him, elbow on the table, chin in the palm of your hand.

“Sexy is subjective, and you don’t do it for me, sorry to break it to you.” He scoffs, laughs, and you laugh too because you both know you see each other as brother and sister, buddies, and fellow former cops, and absolutely nothing else.

“Yeah, I get it, only Hotch does it for you; he’s not my type, but I can see how a young lady like yourself could be drawn to his brooding exterior.”

“I’m not drawn to his exterior!” you practically growl, and then you’re joined by Spencer and JJ.

“Good morning. What’s going on with you two?” JJ asks, loading up the monitors for the debriefing, her eyebrows raised.

“She’s in love with Hotch,” Derek says completely nonchalantly, and you rest your head on the table, on top of your forearms, and sigh.

“She’s what?” JJ’s whole face lights up, and you seriously regret everything.

“I’m not in love with anybody!” you mumble against your arms, and then you sit up, because you’re clearly going to have to defend yourself. “And I’d appreciate it if you quit saying that I am.”

“I told you I have evidence,” Derek reminds you, leaning back in his chair a little. One swift kick would have him toppling ass over tea kettle, but you’re too nice, even when he’s actively trying to ruin your life. “Shall I go over it while we wait?”

“I’ll be an objective third party,” Spencer says with a brief smile, and you sigh, wave your hand toward Derek.

“Alright, let’s hear it. I’m sure I have a perfectly reasonable explanation for whatever evidence you might think you have.” He grins like this is the moment he’s been waiting for, and you feel a little stupid for encouraging this.

“For one, you always look at him. When I’m delivering a profile, I notice you watching the locals, making sure they understand what we’re going over, since you're the queen of analyzing the micro expressions. But when Hotch is delivering a profile, your eyes are on him the whole time. Same goes for discussing theories on the jet; anyone else, and you’ve got your face in your tablet, scribbling notes, but you always look at him when he speaks.”

Your cheeks get hot. He’s a captivating speaker, is all, with that deep, velvety voice, and you can learn a lot from him, so you pay attention. That’s just being smart.

“Second, you tense when he gets close to you: not like you don’t want him to touch you, but like you’re halfway to jumping him already and trying to control it. I could probably put my hand in your pocket and you wouldn't even flinch, but if he leans over you to point at something you look like you’re about to cream your pants.”

“I have seen that, actually,” JJ offers, and you look over at her, betrayed. Sure, you get a whiff of his clean, crisp cologne, or feel the heat of him at your back, and your body reacts, reminds you that this is your boss and you’re at work and you can’t get turned on by the way he smells, but that’s actually a good thing, not an indicator of feelings or anything.

“Third, there’s something up with you and the gray suits. I can literally tell that he’s wearing one before I even see him, all because of the look on your face. It’s like you’re drunk on the gray suit.”

“Okay, that’s not true,” you say with a roll of your eyes—the gray suits are god tier, but there’s no way you’re that obvious—but it’s Spencer who speaks up, this time.

“You know, I have noticed that. Your pupils tend to be more dilated when his suit is gray or blue than when it’s black.” Fuck. You sigh.

“He barely ever wears the blue. It looks so good on him,” you murmur, and then you snap your eyes shut, cover your face with your hands. “Fuck. This is so embarrassing.”

“To be fair, we are profilers,” Derek says, leaning in to pat your back. “But also to be fair, he’s been a profiler longer than any of us, so if we know, he definitely knows.”

“Not helping, Derek,” you grind out, and then you’re joined by the rest of the team. Penelope takes the seat next to you, leans in with a worried tone of voice.

“Is everything okay?”

“She’s having a small crisis, but she’ll be fine,” JJ says with a smile, and you don’t miss the way Hotch looks you over when she says it, concern in his eyes. “Alright, so we’re headed to Arkansas…”

Later that morning, when you’ve been given your instructions—yours are heading to the crime scene with Emily and Derek—Hotch pulls you out into the hall, rests a gentle hand on your arm.

“Are you alright? JJ mentioned you were having a crisis earlier. This is the first time I’ve been able to get you alone, and I wanted to check on you.” You take a deep breath, look up at him, so handsome in a black suit, white shirt, green tie—he almost never wears a green tie, and you absently think it brings out the more golden tones of his eyes—and smile softly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s really nothing. Personal stuff, and I’m dealing with it.” If by ‘dealing with it’ you mean you’ve been repressing it, shoving it down day in and day out until your feelings are choking you, then yeah, you’re dealing with it. “Thanks for checking, though, that’s kind of you.”

“Of course. I’m here to help in any way I can, if you need me.” Good god, do you need him, emotionally, physically, but that’s fantasy, and this, what he’s offering, is rooted in reality. Good things do happen, but not to you.

“Thanks.” Your voice is weak to your own ears, and he swallows, nods; you see Derek hovering by the door, waiting for you, and you pull away to join him, plastering a smile on your face. You don’t talk about it again until Friday, and at that point it’s extremely unavoidable.

It’s Casual Friday, newly implemented by the bureau as a way to boost morale, and while it doesn’t really excite you, because you’re fairly casual anyway, others take full advantage of it. Others, including Hotch.

He shows up to work wearing a black polo and dark jeans, his usual watch. It’s easily the most simplistic, basic outfit a man could decide to wear on Casual Friday, but this isn’t just a man, it’s Aaron fucking Hotchner, and so naturally, you lose your damn mind.

It wouldn’t be so bad if the damn polo didn’t fit him perfectly, tight across his shoulders and chest and the little tummy he has that makes you want to be under him so badly, your stomachs pressed together while he thrusts inside you, holding you tightly, his strong thighs working against yours…

“Hello, are you alive in there?” Emily asks, waving her hand in front of your face; the two of you, along with Derek, are in Penelope’s office for lunch while Rossi, Reid, and JJ are out of the office for a seminar. You blink, shake away your thoughts and hope and pray they don’t come back—but they’ll come back, they always do.

“She’s just short circuiting because of Hotch’s Casual Friday look,” Morgan says with a wink, sitting backward in his seat. “She’s been drooling so much I’ve had to follow her around with a mop to clean up after her.” You push your wheeled chair away from them with a groan, needing space and air and, potentially, a brain transplant. You’ve gotten nothing done all day long.

“Can you blame me? The man comes in here everyday, buttoned up tight, looking incredible in a suit and tie, and then he shows up in that black polo, all snug and hot and delicious, and you expect me not to freak out? You guys are lucky I didn’t pass out.” You’re met with silence, and you blink, confused, at your friends, but they’re all just kind of staring with looks of barely concealed humor. “What? It’s not like it’s a secret that I want to climb him like a tree.”

“Pretty sure it was a secret to him,” Penelope says, looking shocked, and you whip around in your chair to see Hotch standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and a little flushed.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I, uh—” He raises a hand, waves you off.

“It’s okay. No harm done; thank you, for the, uh. Compliment.” He steps forward, hands a manila folder to Penelope. “Thanks for taking care of these,” he says softly, and then, unsurprisingly, he gets the hell out of there. You wish you could disappear off the face of the Earth.

“Fuck, holy fuck,” you mutter when he’s gone, leaning forward with your head in your hands. “That’s it, I’m quitting. It’s been nice knowing you guys.”

“Okay, don’t be dramatic,” Derek says, and you look up to glare at him; he’s the one that started all this in the first place. You were fine, feelings tamped down and suppressed, until he brought it up and then told everyone you know.

“Don’t tell me not to be dramatic, Derek! This is all your fault. You never respect my boundaries, you never know when to just let me be, you always have to pick and pick until you wear me down. Maybe I had a reason for wanting to keep my feelings private, did you ever think of that?”

“I know you're upset,” Emily begins softly, because there’s some pretty thick tension between you and Derek now, but you stand up, push your chair across the room, and shake your head.

“I’m not upset, I’m fucking humiliated. I’m going home; let him know I’m sick, will you?” You exhale deeply, storm upstairs and grab your stuff and drive home with tears in your eyes. You’ve never been so embarrassed in your life, and add that to the absolute heartbreak you’re feeling? You’re just happy you make it to your apartment, so you can break down with cheesecake and a sappy, romantic comedy with a happy ending: those perfect, fictional worlds are pretty much the only place one is guaranteed. You are, as planned, hunkered down on the sofa in your softest pajamas, watching You’ve Got Mail and eating the center out of an entire cheesecake with a spoon when there’s a knock at your door. You groan, pick up your cheesecake tin, and walk over to it, fully expecting it to be Derek come to beg for forgiveness for ruining your life, so it’s no surprise you drop your dessert on the floor when it’s actually Hotch on the other side.

He looks down at the tin, then up at your face, cracks the barest hint of a smile.

“I thought you were sick; I brought soup,” he says, holding up a paper bag, and your heart thumps in your chest. You wipe a hand over your face, because you haven’t been exactly neat in your heartache cheesecake consumption, and then you kick the tin across the floor and invite him in, closing the door behind him.

“I thought it was obvious that I wasn’t actually sick, just… really embarrassed,” you say when he turns back to look at you. “I can’t believe you heard all that stuff I said… I’m really sorry I made you uncomfortable.” You take the bag from his hand and invite him to follow you into the kitchen, where you set it on the counter, lean against it. He comes close, but not so close you can’t function, which is good; your comfy pajamas are shorts and a loose tank top, so you feel a little exposed already.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” he says softly, and you frown, must have heard him wrong. He presses his fingertips against the counter, as if for support. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. It was… unexpected,” he explains, “very unexpected, but I’m not uncomfortable.”

You flush hot, and you can feel the bad decision part of your brain switching on, warning bells ringing in your head.

Whatever you do next has the potential to be extremely stupid, and you would like to avoid that at all costs; you love your job, after all, despite how physically and emotionally exhausting it can be, and you love your team. Time to think with your upstairs brain only.

“That makes me feel a little better,” you say truthfully, and despite the pep talk you just gave yourself, you move closer to him like there’s an invisible magnetic force between you; you would imagine a guy like Hotch would step back, keep his distance, but he only cranes his neck a little so he can look down at you more easily.

God, he’s tall. And he smells good, and his face is perfect, and that goddamn polo...

“Good, I’m glad. I don’t want you to feel bad about this. I’m not uncomfortable, it’s not… it’s not unwanted.” You swallow audibly, looking up at him, wondering if he knows what he’s saying, what it sounds like.

“It’s not?” you ask, and it comes out breathy; he takes a small step closer to you, brushes his fingers over your arm, peers into your eyes.

“No, it’s not. I’ve been thinking of you, too; I know you know you’re beautiful, but you’re also so smart, and strong-willed, and a force to be reckoned with. I’m proud to have you on my team, and I’d be proud… to have you climb me like a tree.” He smiles again, just the barest hint of one, and you put your arms around him and pull him closer for a kiss.

One long, slow, perfect kiss turns into another, then another, and he presses your back against the counter, his hands on your face and your hands on his thick waist; you hum into the kiss, revel in the feel of his lips on yours, his tongue sweeping past them, and when you pull back for air it feels like there’s only one question that needs to be asked.

“Bedroom?” you breathe, and he nods, and you take his hand and pull him in that direction, pausing to kiss him several times before you get there. “You don’t happen to have a condom, do you?” you ask, breathless, guiding him to the bed, and he frowns, shakes his head.

“I didn’t want to seem presumptuous.” You grin at that, lean forward and kiss him, your fingers in his hair.

“I find it so hot that you even say presumptuous. I might have one here somewhere.” You open your nightstand, move around books and toys until you find a couple; you flip them over, checking to see if they’re expired, and offer him a couple options. “They’re still good, surprisingly. You can, uh. Choose the one that would work best.”

He looks them over, picks one and hands back the rest, and you throw them back in the drawer and slide into his lap, wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he says, holding your waist as you look down at him, completely in awe that this is happening. “But I want to clarify: if you’re looking for something casual, I don’t think we should go any further.” You inhale softly, surprised by his straightforwardness, and you lean in, kiss him slowly.

“I don’t want casual. I want to be with you.” His eyes are so brilliant, dark in the dim light of your bedroom, and he nods, presses his lips to yours and slides his hands beneath your top, guides it over your head. Then they move to your shorts, slipping them gently off your hips, and you stand so he can push them to the ground.

You’re both breathing heavily, a little rough, and you step between his legs, kiss him again, run your hands down his chest, closing your eyes with a sigh because you finally get to feel him after a year of just imagining what it would be like. After a beat, you open your eyes, look into his, smile.

“Really grateful for Casual Friday,” you whisper. “Otherwise you might never have found out I’m kind of in love with you.” You ease the polo over his head, drop it on the ground and encourage him to stand so you can take off his pants; he does, but before you can drop to your knees as planned, he takes your face in his hands, presses one soft kiss against your mouth.

“I’m more than kind of in love with you.” Oh, if that isn’t the greatest sentence your ears have ever heard… You wrap your arms around his neck, kiss a little more, forgetting that you planned to finish undressing him; when you remember, you make quick work of it, then have him lay back against the bed and settle between his legs.

You put your mouth on him because you want to, more than anything, and his hand drops to your hair, caressing you while you suck slowly, deeply, holding him with one hand and pressing against his stomach with the other. His moans are soft and gorgeous, his body tense beneath your hand, and you’d do this all night, but he murmurs your name, coaxes you up, puts his hands on your back as you settle against him.

“You’re so incredible. I never would have imagined I’d get this, get you,” he breathes, skimming his hands over your sides and hips, and you kiss softly, steamy and sweet.

“Me neither.” You lean up, make space for him to roll on the condom, and then press him inside; your breath hitches, and so does his, and you lay on top of him, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, arms around each other tightly while you move. “Hmm. Aaron,” you sigh, hair falling around him, and he groans, digs his fingertips into your hips.

“Sounds so perfect coming out of your mouth.” You smile, but it slips away when he surges up to kiss you, leans up so he’s sitting with you in his lap. He slides a broad hand up your back, wraps it around the nape of your neck, and pumps his hips up as you sink down, eliciting a series of soft, eager moans from the both of you.

“Feels like I’ve waited so long; I’ve never wanted someone as badly as I wanted you,” you tell him, chest heaving, and he brings you to him for a kiss, something a little rougher, less refined. He’s getting close.

“Never. You make me feel so much.” You reach back against his leg for support, work harder to bring him off, and when he comes he crushes his mouth against yours, delicious and more uncontrolled than you’ve ever seen him. He chants your name, so soft and sweet rolling off of his tongue, and then gets you on your back so he can press deeply inside.

You feel so incredibly full, panting beneath him, your hands on his waist and your feet on the backs of his thighs; his perfect face is inches from yours, all shallow breaths and decadent, passionate kisses, and when you climax you pull him closer, sigh, unravel completely in his embrace.

Maybe good things do happen after all. You hold each other and talk for a while, after a quick pitstop to the restroom, and then your stomach growls—understandably, since the only thing to fill it since lunch was that stupid cheesecake—and Hotch orders takeout on his phone from bed; god bless technology.

There’s a knock at the door twenty minutes later, and you know that’s quick for your favorite Thai place, but you’re not complaining because you’re officially starving. He offers to grab it, throws on his boxers and heads for the living room; after a few minutes, you wonder what’s taking so long, pull on your robe and go to check on him.

Hotch is talking to Derek, who is standing in your living room with a piece of cheesecake and a shit eating grin.

“I came with a peace offering, but now I think I’ll wait for a, ‘Thank you, Derek,’” he says, and you roll your eyes, stalk over and take the cheesecake out of his hands. You give it to Hotch, lean up to kiss Derek on the cheek, and push him toward the door.

“Thank you, Derek. Go away, Derek,” you say with a smile of your own, and he raises his palms and retreats down the hall, laughing as he goes.

This is just one more thing he’ll tease you mercilessly about, but this time the benefits outweigh the costs. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #anon #prompt #dad bod hotch

652 notes · View notes

shewhowillnotbenamed1 · 4 years

Text

Borrowed

Raven cleared her throat and ran a hand through her hair. "Damian...?" She called, after a quick knock on his door.

"Mm, Raven?" He grumbled in lieu of a reply. It sounded far away.

What exactly was he doing?

Raven shifted her weight from foot to the other. "Are you... decent?" Her pale fingers lingered on the shiny brass handle, her heartbeat quickened impatiently, and she nearly had to stop herself from barging in without waiting for confirmation. She didn't want to lose the nerve.

There weren't exactly any other options.

"Yes, what's up -"

"I'm coming in." Raven said in a hurry, before opening the door adjoining the two hotel rooms. "I need to... borrow something of yours -" Raven's eyes widened as she took note of Damian's bare chest, the droplets of water, a runoff flowing down his rows of abs. His arm muscles flexed, while he continuously ran a white hand towel through his damp hair. She bit her lip and looked away, trying to keep her flush down as best she could.

Why had he let her in?

This was most certainly not decent.

And then, he cocked his head and shamelessly proceeded to stare at her pajamas. "Hmm, is that so...?" Damian openly appraised her legs in the shorts, not bothering to avert his eyes. "I see..."

Goodness what was he thinking? And what was she thinking?

"What...?" She asked slowly, folding her arms around her body self-consciously. "That we're going to fall behind schedule if we both don't get dressed?"

He shook his head. "You... said you need something from me?"

Raven paled. "That's not exactly how I would put it, but..."

"You would like to borrow something of mine." Damian repeated slowly, savoring the sound of statement on his tongue.

"Yes..." Raven lifted an eyebrow.

"But you wouldn't take me up on a ticket for a seat in first class... Or accept my offers to buy you new clothes..." That was a Wayne for you. He would be remiss if he couldn't bring up the various ways she had rejected his outlandish proposals.

"Damian, I couldn't accept those things..." She glanced at the ground. It wouldn't have been right no matter how close they had gotten. Sometimes she forgot they just worked together. It was getting harder and harder to discern, with the trips and all the late nights. But it was times like these when she was reminded of that fact. "I just couldn't."

"Your pride aside, Raven. You realize that if you accepted the plane ticket in the first place, there is a strong possibility that the mishap with your luggage would have never even happened..." Raven felt the vessel in her temple tick. She unclenched her fist.

She sighed a long drawn out sigh. "I'm willing to compromise..."

"So... your compromise is that you'll borrow my clothes?" He sat on the bed, passively squeezing the towel through his dark hair while he watched her.

His hair wasn't even that long - how much time did it need to dry?

"Just for now…" Raven clarified. "The airline says they'll recover my baggage soon - tomorrow - Thursday at the latest." She rubbed her arm.

That was being optimistic, but the sooner the better.

"Your baggage…?" He crooned, his handsome face tilted toward her with a half smirk flashing on his distractingly devious lips. "There certainly is a lot of it... I highly doubt they'll find it in time…" A scowl threatened to take up residence on her face. Those implications were outrageous and Raven didn't need to take this.

Damian was enjoying every second of this and Raven could tell. He liked her veil of calm to show its cracks. He liked her flustered. He liked her helpless in her tiny pajama shorts. He liked her in need of him.

And he probably liked her off-put and distracted by those stupidly sculpted abs.

They were somehow perfect, even from this angle, wasn't he sitting down? She tore her eyes away from his rippling stomach muscles as his legs reclined, taut arms moving overhead to reach the tendrils curled at his nape.

Christ.

She willed the scarlet away from her cheeks. "Damian, can I borrow something to wear or not?"

"Of course you can. I haven't unpacked yet, so you'll have to rummage through the suitcase. You can take whatever you like." Damian gestured to the open leather suitcase with his towel. "Until they find your things, feel free... My door's always open..." he added under his breath, as he padded over to the bathroom to hang the towel.

"If only all that open door policy extended to when we were at the office..." She mumbled, riffling through the perfectly folded items as neatly as possible. All the clothes had that rich cedarwood and spicy cardamom and it was assaulting her senses, even though she tried not to think about all the ways that scent would envelop her. It would cling to her all day and night, brazed to her skin from wearing his clothes - Damian's clothes.

"Raven... Even when I'm busy, I make sure my employees feel valued." Damian said seriously. "If I didn't value you, you wouldn't be accompanying me on this trip."

"Right..." Raven settled on a simple v-neck sweater. She checked the label. It was 100% cashmere. An entire suitcase and not a blend in sight - that was so typical Damian Wayne. "So you're not afraid my value disappeared along with my baggage? I mean suitcase." She corrected hurriedly.

Damian softened for a moment. Raven saw that playful sparkle return to sharpen his vibrant green eyes. "With or without your pantsuits... and your monochromatic wardrobe in all black..." Raven pursed her lips. That didn't exactly sound like a compliment. "I know you are the best choice for this."

Oh.

Raven's face began to warm. It was somehow nice that he noticed something as trivial as her clothes, despite that slightly snub in the details.

She turned to him in the doorway of the adjoining rooms, the sweater in her hands. "Thanks, for this." Raven offered him a small smile.

"Good choice," Damian nodded, seeming impressed. "I think we'll manage until Thursday."

---------------

No.

They would not be able to manage until Thursday.

There was no way.

Damian had hoped he would be able to handle things until normalcy resumed on Thursday, but he was wrong. Raven's baggage hadn't turned up. The airline was fumbling, but that was hardly the issue.

It was her entering his room unannounced in a towel or a sleep shirt. Her rifling through his suitcase or his drawers on tiptoes when he returned from the gym. And then, when he'd come in from the balcony in the evening and saw her standing there with his shirt hanging off her.

Raven in his clothing.

He had thought about it once before, but not at all like this.

For someone who's wardrobe was usually a rotation of fewer than three shades, it was surprising how creative she could be. She mixed the limited items from her carry-on with Damian's wardrobe. Damian's t-shirts and work shirts were transformed into dresses, shirt dresses, or oversized tops. They became off-the-shoulder shirts, cinched with belts, buttoned up in interesting ways with rolled up sleeves and turned up collars. His undershirts paired with her jeans became statements. Vests and polos had never looked better than they had on her pale curves.

Damian felt his breath quicken and his heart pound in his chest every time he saw her in another piece from his closet. He knew the truth. He didn't care if they ever found her suitcase, not if it meant he got to see her in his clothes. The incident with the airline really had caused them to leave whatever baggage they had between them in Gotham.

But then, the night of the benefit arrived and Damian grew worried. As far as he knew, the airline was still searching for her luggage and hadn't found her clothes. Damian didn't have a spare dress packed away anywhere, so how exactly would she pull off black tie?

Damian shook his glass, peering down furtively at his watch or the spherical ice cubes, while he tried to make polite conversation with the other businessmen at the benefit. It did little to distract him from wondering where in the hell she was. Would she show up? And in what?

Damian had to pause mid sip of scotch - he nearly choked.

True to her form, Raven had worn a suit.

In all black.

But in a way he had never seen before.

All eyes were on Raven as she stood there in heels, with her dark hair tucked elegantly behind her left ear, and one of his black suit jackets. She had worn it as a dress that came up to her thighs. Damian swallowed, as she spotted him and made her way over.

With each step a new detail was revealed. Like there was no shirt under that jacket. He could see the center of her cleavage before his eyes reached the first buttonhole. Goodness, there was no bra under that jacket either. Damian's body tensed and involuntarily he edged in front of the floral arrangement on the entrance table, until he could gather his bearings.

Gods, she seemed glide. And she looked incredible.

Her face warmed in new ways, her entire being seemed to radiate when those indigo eyes met his vert. "Good evening, Wayne."

He shook his head incredulously. "Raven, wow..."

"You looked worried." Raven's lips turned up coyly. "Were you worried?"

"No... Maybe a little," he admitted. "But honestly, I think I just have a new appreciation for this suit," Damian said softly, his finger brushed the shoulder of the jacket. "I've been meaning to tell you how much I like your new look..."

"Me wearing your clothes, after the airport lost mine? This is the product of circumstance." Raven cocked a hip. "Out of curiosity, what would you even call this look - lost baggage chic?"

Metaphorical or otherwise, it really had disappeared. The baggage.

"Yes." He placed a firm hand on the small of her back to guide her to their table, like man would his date. "You and those black pantsuits..." She froze, before her petite form settled into him. "You always look great." Damian whispered softly in her ear.

#damirae week 2020 #damirae #damiraeweek #demonbirds #damian x raven #raven roth #damian wayne #coworkers au #fanfiction #writing #me #Wanted to do this for day 1 wasn't going to publish it but what the hell?#This is filth and silly but hopefully it's not too terrible

387 notes · View notes

atths--twice · 4 years

Text

Bare Essentials

Last March, the discussion on Thursday during #tbtXFiles turned to why Mulder looked “un-Mulderish,” in Signs and Wonders, and lost luggage was mentioned, I became intrigued. I had never noticed his clothes, I don’t think. This is not an episode I generally put on, so I was taken aback. After it was mentioned, it was ALL I saw. So, thanks to a friend for piquing my interest, it brought about this story. Hope you enjoy it.

Arriving in Blessing, Tennessee, Mulder and Scully discover their bags have not arrived with them.

Blessing, Tennessee 9:30 a.m. Tuesday

The tiny airport was hot and crowded, causing Mulder to unbutton the two top buttons on his shirt, hoping to find some relief. He could feel sweat on his neck and back, as he watched the luggage carousel, waiting for their bags.

Scully walked up, fanning her coat around her. “Jesus, it’s hot in here,” she said, looking at him, her small carry-on bag in one hand. He nodded still keeping an eye on the carousel.

“It’s insane that it’s this warm in here, the heater has to be broken. I doubt it’s that cold outside." He fanned his shirt, the open buttons not offering much relief.

“Well, we’ll find out as soon as our bags get here and we can get the car,” she said, glancing at her watch. “We should head straight over to the church.” He nodded again, frowning as he realized the baggage carousel was now empty. Bags were no longer coming and he heaved a sigh.

Great, just great, he thought. Scully looked at him and raised her eyebrows. He shook his head and headed to the baggage claim office.

A half an hour later, forms were filled out, and a heated discussion had been had about the heat of the airport. Mulder caught up to Scully, and they walked toward the rental lot. Scully had filled out the paperwork and gotten the keys, while he dealt with their lost bags. They would try to deliver them as soon as possible. But first, they needed to figure out where they were exactly.

“Where they are exactly, Scully,” he said, as they walked to the car. “How is it that they don’t know where our bags are “exactly” but everyone else’s arrived here with no problems? We all left from the same place, on the same flight.” She put her carry-on in the trunk, and they both got in the car. He turned on the ignition, shaking his head as he looked over at her.

She scrunched up her chin, something he found so goddamn adorable and shook her head. “I don’t know, but hopefully they’ll find them and bring them by later tonight. Let’s get to the church,” she said, gesturing for him to drive.

“I can’t go like this, Scully,” he said pointing at his clothes. He was wearing dark jeans and a long sleeved polo shirt. “I was going to change once we stopped by the motel, but now I don’t have my luggage.”

“Then you will have to go like that,” she said, looking at him in exasperation.

“No, we can find a store and I’ll pick something up. Not a suit, but something better than this,” he said, backing up the car and heading out. She hummed her annoyance, and he scoffed.

“If you had dressed accordingly,” she said, under her breath, shaking her head and looking out her window.

“I told you all my dress shirts were at the cleaners, and it was a mad dash to even get there before we left. I had no other options,” he said, watching for when it would be safe to merge onto the highway.

“Mulder, how long have we been doing this? Seven years? Why do you leave everything until the last minute?” she asked, with a glance his way. “You tell me we’re leaving, and I have a wardrobe already packed in my head, business suits ready to go at all times.”

“If we all were as prepared as you, who would be the dreamers? The artists who walk around with paint in their hair or on their hands because other aspects of life are more important?” he volleyed back at her. “We can’t all be Dana Scullys.” He glanced at her and saw she was trying not to smile.

“You all can try,” she said in a sassy tone, giving in and giving him a beautiful smile. His heart pounded, and his mouth went dry, causing him to clear his throat. She turned and looked out the window again, and it was quiet in the car.

Just before the exit for the church, he left the highway, looking for a place to buy some new clothes. A store came into view, and he pulled into the parking lot. Scully looked at him, and he shrugged. They both got out of the car and walked inside.

Scully looked at him, the store not quite the type of clothing they usually purchased. She walked away from him towards the women’s section, and he headed to the men’s.

Not wanting to spend too much time in the store, he quickly found his size and grabbed a shirt- a long sleeved button down grayish patterned shirt. It was not something he usually would be drawn to, being rather an ugly color and print, but it would work.

Pants were next- a pair of dark slacks, and also a belt. He caught Scully’s eye and jerked his head toward the dressing room. She nodded and walked toward him, as he stepped behind the curtain to try on the clothes. He could hear her breathing on the other side, and he flushed at the thought that a mere piece of fabric separated them as he undressed.

“Mulder?” she asked, her tone reminding him they were on a timetable.

“Yeah, I know. These are good, I’ll get them,” he said, slipping on his shoes and tying them. “I’ll wear them out from here.”

“Hand me the tags and I’ll pay for them,” she said, reaching her hand inside the curtain. He smiled, pulling them from the clothes and placing them in her hand. Her hand left, and he picked up his other clothes.

He tucked in his shirt, fastened his belt, and opened the curtain. Seeing Scully at the register, he walked over to her. She looked him up and down and scrunched her chin again before turning back to the store clerk.

“I grabbed you a jacket too,” she said, handing over her credit card. “It is cold out, despite how hot it was at the airport. They didn’t have your size exactly, and there are no ties, but at least you will look better than how you did earlier.” She glanced at him, and he nodded his thanks.

His own clothes were put in a large store bag, along with what she had purchased for herself, though he did not see what she bought. Putting the new grey coat over his arm, he put his hand on the small of her back and led her out of the store.

_________________________________

The Heartbreak Motel, 12:30 a.m. Wednesday morning

Pulling up to the motel, as it bordered on one in the morning, he sighed, his body completely exhausted. He glanced at Scully, seeing her worrying her lips as she sat beside him. When he turned off the car, it broke her from her thoughts, causing her to look at him and unbuckle her seat belt.

“I’ll go get our rooms,” he said, putting his hand on hers, stopping her from getting out just yet. She nodded and sighed, leaning her head back against the headrest.

He got out and spoke to the motel clerk, getting them adjoining rooms. Two keys with glittery guitar key chains were handed to him. The man shrugged and Mulder nodded, holding them as he walked out the door.

He drove closer to their rooms, and they both got out. Handing her her key, he grabbed her carry-on and the store bag out of the trunk, following her into her room. He set the bag down, and she began to go through it. She took out a pack of underwear, a couple of pairs of dress socks, and a pack of undershirts. The barest of essentials, and something he had completely overlooked.

She handed them over to him with a raised eyebrow. He grinned at her and took them, his thoughts and feelings mixed. He was happy at her thoughtfulness and also felt that familiar feeling of desire for her. She had picked out underwear for him.

God, he loved her.

He nodded at her and made to leave the room. “You’re welcome,” she said sarcastically. He turned around and smiled at her.

“Thank you kindly, Miss Scully,” he said in an overly put upon Southern accent. She rolled her eyes and walked forward to close the door when he left.

He went into his own room and set all his things on his bed. His jacket was taken off and thrown on the chair, his clothes and shoes following, as he went into the bathroom and started the shower.

He showered and came into the room in a towel. Ripping open the packages, he took out a shirt and a pair of underwear. Dressed, he picked up and then hung his clothes, obviously needing to wear them again tomorrow, unless the bags miraculously showed up in the middle of the night.

A knock sounded at the adjoining door, and he unlocked it, finding Scully, her hair still damp from her own shower. He tried not to stare, but she was so cute standing there in a pair of un-Scully like pajamas. Cotton, long sleeved, and lilac. They were tighter and clingier than usual. Try as he might, he could not avoid noticing her hard nipples.

“Here,” she said, thankfully interrupting his thoughts and redirecting his eyes. She handed him a new packaged toothbrush and he raised his eyebrows at her. “From my carry-on. After they lost our luggage that time in Boise, I’ve made sure to at least have the essentials: my makeup bag and toiletries.”

“Good thinking. Maybe I should start doing that too,” he said, opening the toothbrush.

“Maybe?” she said with a look.

“Yeah, maybe,” he said with a grin. He stuck the toothbrush in his mouth and she winced. “What? Gotta do what I can without toothpaste.”

“You think I would pack toothbrushes and not pack toothpaste? What’s the point of that, Mulder?” she asked, shaking her head.

“Oh. Well, can you hand it to me?” he asked, holding out his hand.

“I am not giving you the toothpaste. I will let you use it, but it stays with me,” she stated, both eyebrows raised high.

“What?”

“Yeah, Mr. Squeezes-It-From-The-Middle, the toothpaste stays with me,” she said cheekily. “I’m not having a repeat fiasco of The Falls.” He stared at her, but took the toothbrush from his mouth and presented it to her.

She uncapped the toothpaste, squeezed it tightly from the bottom, and loaded up his toothbrush. Replacing the cap, she smirked at him, making a show of the flatness of the tube of toothpaste. He nodded, looking at his toothbrush.

“You know, sometimes squeezing things in the middle is the best option. Lightly or with more force, depending on the situation,” he said, watching her eyes as he spoke. They moved across his face and landed on his lips. He had to fight the urge to run his tongue across them, wanting to see how that would affect her.

“Well, there’s also something to be said about following the rules,” she said, crossing her arms and looking in his eyes. “Even if you really do want to break them.” He held his breath, not daring to imagine she actually meant what she did. Christ, he was suddenly very hot. Were they still talking about toothpaste?

“Good night, Mulder,” she said, starting to close her door. “Come see me in the morning when you need more … toothpaste.” She looked at him once more, before closing the door all the way.

Oh, sweet Jesus. How did she do that? How did a conversation about toothpaste arouse him so much? He stood at the door, wanting it to open, to hear her say she needed more, and not be talking about toothpaste. Shaking his head, he forced himself to step back from the door and go into the bathroom and brush his teeth.

He laid down in bed a few minutes later with his mind buzzing and the taste of mint in his mouth. He turned over and punched his pillow trying not to think of how lilac had looked beautiful on her and how deliciously minty she would taste if he went into her room and kissed her.

_____________________________

The Heartbreak Motel 12:45 a.m. Thursday morning

God, he thought as he came back to the motel room, what a day. He took off the clothes he had been wearing for the second time, never wanting to see them again. He knew they smelled, even without getting his nose close to them. He had no idea what he was going to do about an outfit tomorrow.

Scully’s bag had made it to the motel, and been dropped off at the office. She sighed with relief at the sight of it, and then apologized to him that his was still missing. Disappearing into her room, he ducked into his own, wishing this case were over. If he never saw another snake again, he would be happy.

He showered and changed into another undershirt and underwear Scully had the foresight to purchase for him. He paced the room as he thought of what to do about his clothes tomorrow, when he heard Scully knock on the adjoining door. He grinned and went to grab his toothbrush before he opened it.

Again she stood in the doorway with wet hair, but this time in her own black satin pajamas. They were nice, but not tight, lilac nice. She held out the toothpaste and he brandished his toothbrush at her, causing her to roll her eyes, her lips curling into a small smile.

“I’m gonna need to get something for tomorrow. No way I can wear those clothes again. I’d like to have a burial service for them if I could. Could we arrange that?” She laughed and looked at him as she put on the toothpaste. He winked at her and stuck his toothbrush in his mouth.

“You were rather ripe today. I’m sorry your bag isn’t here. It’s quite nice to put on my own clean clothes,” she said, capping the toothpaste.

“Braggart,” he said around his toothbrush. He walked away and spit in the bathroom sink. He finished up, rinsed out his mouth, and set his toothbrush down.

She was leaning against the door jamb, her arms crossed, eyes roaming up his body. He caught her when she got to his eyes and she moved, uncrossing her arms and clearing her throat. Her cheeks were flushed and he could not stop the smile that creeped across his face.

“Well, goodnight. We’ll figure out something for your clothes tomorrow. Maybe hit that store again. See you in the morning,” she said all in a rush, closing her door with a loud click.

He smiled, knowing he caught her looking and knowing she knew he did. Things were changing between them. It was going slowly, but he liked it that way. Something was still there, something holding them both back, but they were moving closer. He smiled again, and then his eyes landed on his clothes. Shaking his head, he resolved to be up early, determined to not be around her again until he smelled better than “ripe.”

_______________________________

The Heartbreak Motel 7:30 a.m. Friday

The alarm went off the next morning, and he slid on his pants with a cringe. He kept just his undershirt on, put on his shoes, and drove to the same store. They were just opening when he walked inside. Not wanting to take too much time, he grabbed a white button down and a pair of khaki pants. He balked at them, but it was what was available to purchase.

Just before he walked to the register, he spotted a leather jacket. He stopped and looked at it. It was a rather nice jacket and there was no reason he should not buy it, even if he had one similar to it already. No chance could he wear that gray coat Scully had picked, with the new khaki colored pants.

He found his size and added it to the other items. If Scully’s bag arrived yesterday, hopefully it meant his would arrive sometime today, and this would be enough to get by. If not, he would need to find a place and wash what he had with him.

Purchase complete, he went back out to the car, dropping his bag beside him, and driving back to the motel. Once inside, he quickly showered again and got dressed. God, it felt so good to wear new, clean clothes, and not something that was sweaty and smelly.

Scully knocked on the adjoining door and he opened it. She looked at him and nodded, a smile on her face. Catching his eye, she stared at him with a look he could not quite place. Breaking his gaze after a few seconds, she took a breath.

“I got a call. There was a problem with Gracie. We need to go.” He grabbed his jacket and followed her out the door.

_____________________________

Blessings of God Hospital 10:30 a.m. Sunday

He stared at her as she sat next to him on his hospital bed, her eyes so blue and beautiful. She sighed and smiled again before squeezing his hand, getting up and heading to the door. His wounds were healing and he was starting to feel better, but he would be in the hospital for a couple more days. Bored and ready to leave, seeing her made him happy, but he wished he could be leaving with her.

“Oh,” she said, turning around and looking at him with a cheeky grin. “Your bag showed up last night. So, you’re good to go. You know … when you’re ready to wear pants again.”

“Goddamn. Finally,” he said, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. She smiled and nodded before she headed out the door.

He looked at the door and sighed. A few more days and he would be ready to leave. It could not come soon enough. Watching her leave every day was killing him. He was ready to be done with this and continue moving forward.

He just needed his goddamn pants to get the hell out of this hospital. Thank all that was holy in the world, he was never so happy to hear he had clothes waiting for him.

Lost luggage could eat a huge pile of shit.

___________________________________________________

Hope you enjoyed this little story. Seeing a prompt always gets my mind spinning with how I could write out that scenario. This one was fun. 😊

#The X Files #XF Fanfic #Signs and Wonders #Missing Luggage #Coping and making the best of a bad situation #Sharing the bare essentials #Flirting

51 notes · View notes

snailanimations · 6 years

Note

Ah, another boy you like, how about Cody? I'm personally not a fan of his undershirt situation, haha, it's too long?? What is he doing??

A lot of you guys wanted Cody and I can see why honestly, so here he is!! I honestly don’t hate Cody’s design all together, but I do have some Grievances so those will be under a cut as usual.

My main issue with Cody is honestly the undershirt situation he has going on? I don’t know what’s happening with that shirt, why the collar is so high up, or why it continues so far past the rest of his shirt. If it’s supposed to be a button up, it makes no sense for them to show where the two flaps of the shirt meet and not?? have any buttons there?? So I don’t know what’s happening with that thing. Or why it’s like 18 sizes too big for him.

For my redesign, I did my best to focus on the aesthetic of some fourteen year old boy whose mom still tells him what he can and can’t wear out of the house, mixed with the dynamic of a kid trying to be Cool and impress girls. So he’s got a really straight-laced sense of style that’s casual, baggy, and overall really simple to put together.

I did give him a popped collar and the hint of a polo underneath his t-shirt, which I think is more of a 2000′s style and I have been trying to avoid that with my redesigns, but I thought it fit his character to be a little behind the times and still think he looked cool wearing it. Other than that, I just gave him a simple graphic tee with an NES controller on it (which makes a lot more sense than just?? two stripes?? to me at least). And then some faded, baggy jeans that I think he only has one pair of in his entire closet.

The shoes I probably could’ve put more work into, but honestly they look like a pair of adidas sneakers I sold at the shoe store I work at today and I thought they were cool enough to simplify and stick on his feet.

Also, I’m not sure why Fresh seemed so against using pure whites in his original design? They usually don’t have a problem throwing pure white around, so on Cody’s design it looks like he’s almost...dirty? Like what is this strange gray sleeve situation with the really pale yellow shirt? Also what does that second collar connect too? Because it sure as hell shouldn’t be that t-shirt he’s wearing. I don’t know if anyone has ever informed the character designers at Fresh, but last time I checked, t-shirts don’t have collars.

For the most part, I didn’t mind Cody’s hair, I mostly just made it look more like his mom cut it and he tried to muss it up to make it look cooler, but otherwise it’s the same. All the colors on him are some form of desaturated from the originals, since I have yet to experience a single desaturated color on any of these original designs. I’m not kidding, I don’t know why they hate adding gray tones to their colors. But after all that, Cody was a pretty easy fix haha.

#art #total drama #total drama island #td cody #cantolopejeevas #ask

92 notes · View notes

rodrigohyde · 6 years

Text

Style Mistakes Guaranteed To Repel Women

Is it possible that what you consider to be just fine fashion finds have caused you to miss out on meeting Miss Right? Let’s hope not. Yes men, it’s what’s on the inside that really counts, but before she decides if she would like to get to know you any better, she’s sizing you up on the outside. Even if you’ve set your sights on hooking up with Miss Right-Now, pulling a great look together will get you more second glances and swipe rights. Whether it’s your online dating profile, your official first date or a chance meeting on the street, your wardrobe should be relationship-ready. After all, she’s taking the time to look good, so you should too. Need help getting started?

When it comes down to men’s style, we know all you men want to look your best regardless of your mission -- looking to attract women ready for a relationship or just feel attractive having fun out there on your own. Maybe your closet is already peacocking with a wardrobe on a whole other level with countless suits, a strong shoe game, and not a fashion faux pas in sight -- but chances are it's probably not. If you're starting from scratch, use the KISS Principle . Remember, you’re wearing the clothes, they should never be wearing you. Whether you’re known to be decked in a fine Italian suit or a t-shirt and jeans is your outfit of choice, when you finish getting dressed, your outfit should look effortlessly cool. So before going tri-hard with your #OOTD, ask yourself if maybe you need to dial it back a bit. Looking pulled together isn’t about being painstakingly curated or entirely overdone, it’s about confidence. However, roll up for a date disheveled, and the ladies will absolutely notice your lack of effort. You can’t usually make it on body language alone. Will your wardrobe seduce women? No, of course not, but it may give you the confidence boost you need in order to do it yourself.

Related: I Tested Out MeUndies For A Month -- The Results Are In

Here’s What You Should Be Doing:

Invest In Your Wardrobe

Don’t cheap out on closet staples. Men and women typically approach this very differently. A lot more women know it’s okay to spend on shoes, belts and classic pieces like trench coats, leather jackets, and premium denim. So men, skip the one season wonders and start building a quality wardrobe of clothing that will stand the test of time. When it comes to personal style, you should try to think quality over quantity. Knowing you have on clothes that look good on you give a confidence that has no price tag.

Cole Haan Grandevoluton Shortwing Oxford

$200.00 at Amazon.com

Learn To Do Laundry

It’s easy, since you’re a grown-up, right? Separate your lights and darks. Wash bright colors and your dark clothing in cold water and your whites in hot. Keep your whites bright. Dingy t-shirts and gray underwear are a dead give away that you’re domestically challenged. Hate to iron? It doesn’t mean you get a free pass to walk around looking like a wrinkled mess. Get yourself a pro-grade travel steamer and de-crease with ease. Want to know to know a secret to a woman's heart? Don’t expect her to do your laundry.

Jiffy Portable Electric Garment Steamer

$75.99 at Walmart.com

Find A Good Tailor

A good tailor is worth their weight in gold, and should be a relationship much like your barber or doctor. No matter what, clothes that fit properly can show off the best parts of your bod while also helping camouflage any areas that aren’t your favorite. Don’t skip alterations to your off-the-rack clothing. Tailors know what they’re doing, but be sure to speak up if he or she suggests an alteration you are not completely comfortable with. This is a conversation you’re allowed to be a part of too. There’s no reason to pull your favorite pants out of the rotation just because they need a new hem or need to be let out at the waist. The same goes for items in need of repair . Spend a few extra dollars on a tailor, and you'll be set for a hefty return on investment.

Replenish Your Basics Regularly

Freshen up that sock and underwear drawer. Nobody wants to cuddle up to a pit-stained undershirt or play footsie with a blown out sock. Should the situation arise, you’ll want to be prepared to get confidently close. Subscription services like MeUndies, Nice Laundry and Stance are super convenient and make it easy to replenish your supply without breaking the bank.

MeUndies Classic Membership

$16.00 at MeUndies.com

Own It

Do you. Women are attracted to men with what? Confidence. Going to extreme lengths to hide your flaws can backfire and call even more attention to your insecurities. For example, if you’re putting lifts in your Jordan’s or shoulder pads in your jackets, eventually she’s going to find out. Own your shit and enhance your best qualities without going overboard. Seriously, there’s nothing sexier than confidence and a guy that keeps it real.

The Subtle Art Of Not Giving A F*ck

$12.99 at Amazon.com

Related: Top 10 Ways To Show Confidence With Body Language

Now Here’s What To Avoid At All Costs:

Not Dressing Your Age

No matter what your clothing budget, there’s a way to dress age-appropriately. That doesn’t mean you have to commit to a grandpa shawl collar sweater if you’re over 30. However, dressing like a teenage skateboarder just doesn't work for a forty-year-old guy. Are you a grown ass man that still loves to shred? There’s a look for that. Forget the skinny jeans and go for a pair of fitted dark stretch jeans that allow you the freedom to ollie. And no, you’re never too old for a pair of Vans as long as the rest of your look doesn’t scream middle schooler.

Vans' Old Skool Sneaker

$59.95 at Nordstrom.com

Showing Up In Uniform

It’s one thing to be a fan and another to show up for the game in full uniform when you don’t even play the sport. If you want to support the team, go ahead and wear a jersey and quit while you’re ahead. She’s going to put you in the penalty box if you sport the whole kit. Don’t show up wearing the authentic shorts, socks, and jacket of the guys on the field. Resist the urge to swing for the fashion fences. Unless you’re a football fan, in which case, you do you.

You’re Rocking The Wrong Size

One of the most important rules of style is making sure you duds fit properly. Again, make friends with your tailor. In case you didn’t know, tailors can work on a lot more than just suits, but it is up to you to make the effort. If you’re swimming in extra fabric or had to pour yourself into skinny jeans, that’s all she’ll see. Got a great ass? Then don’t hide it under a blousy shirttail.

UNTUCKit Blue Selvedge Chambray Barbera Shirt

$88.00 at UNTUCKit.com

Unbuttoning Your Shirt To Your Belly Button

Do not unbutton your shirt to the waist. Just don’t. This is a signature look for some and seems to start trending after a few too many cocktails. You’ll lose even more points for exposing a hairy chest and gold jewelry. Yep, it worked for Travolta back in the day, but like disco, this look is dead. So for now, she’ll appreciate you much more if you just fuhgeddaboudit and don’t unbutton more than two buttons, even at night.

You’re Way Too Extra

There you are in your perfectly tailored suit. Well done! Don’t repel her by blowing it with your underpinnings. When selecting the right dress shirt and tie combinations, look for subtle patterns and texture. Next, add tasteful accessories. Remember the KISS principle from earlier? It certainly applies here too. In other words, less is more. Add a watch, bracelet, loud tie and pocket square, tie bar, lapel pin, novelty sock, and finish with too much pungent cologne and bam! Just like that, you're over the edge. See how fast that can happen? When in doubt, less is more, but that doesn’t mean you have to smell bad.

Synthesized Musk Perfume Oil

$52.00 at malinandgoetz.com

Big Logos And Knockoffs

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with designer labels or even tastefully sized logos. Who doesn’t love a good polo player on their polo shirt? But remember, you’re not a walking billboard. You’re also the real deal. So, skip the knockoffs. And that goes for cologne, sunglasses, and wallets as well. Us gals can usually spot a fake with ease. Keep it authentic and tasteful, and you should be good-to-go.

Displaying Denim Discord

Dad jeans, skinny jeans, bootleg jeans -- the ladies love them all. But with so many styles, where do you begin? Start by getting the fit right, even if that means spending a little bit more time searching and money at checkout. Your butt will look better . And if you’re squatting in the weight room, find a pair that allows for your bulging thigh and calf muscles. The opposite goes for you marathon runners. Skip the relaxed denim and go for a straighter, slimmer fit.

Levi's 541 Athletic Fit Stretch Jeans

$48.99 at levis.com

Traveling Like A Slob

There’s nothing to do but people watch on a long haul flight. Which is good news if you're hoping to be seen. Remember the skies will be a whole lot friendlier if you show up looking first class. That doesn’t mean giving up on comfort, but it does mean leaving your pajamas at home. Invest in a pair of denim with stretch or a hip athleisure situation. Never go to the bathroom on the plane in just your socks, or worse, barefoot. It’s gross, and you know it. Pack a pair of slides in your carry-on to slip into after take off.

Showing Your Underwear

It’s time to move on. If you’re a grown ass man quit showing the waistband of your underwear and enough with the childish underoo prints and cartoon characters. When it comes time to drop trou, she’ll expect to see grownup skivvies. Keep it clean, charming and classic. Want to go ahead and upgrade? These will do the trick.

Nice Laundry All-American Boxer Briefs

$24.00 at NiceLaundry.com

You Might Also Dig

How To Pack A Carry On Bag

What To Know To Buy The Perfect Pair Jeans

The AskMen Guide to Guy Brows

from Style channel http://www.askmen.com/style/fashion_advice/style-mistakes-guaranteed-to-repel-women.html

#Style channel

0 notes