Crush Imagines

Hate to Love You pt. 3

I really made you guys wait for this one, I hope you deem it worthy <3 it's just short and sweet, but these two didn't deserve to go through any more suffering hahah

To say that you collapsed onto the sofa would be an understatement. It felt like you were a piece of flat pack Ikea furniture which had been poorly assembled and shattered on impact as you hit the cushions. Who knew a career in trying to improve the lives of others would be so bloody exhausting? If you'd realised you'd never have become the flaming CEO of your charity coordination company, you'd probably be a mattress tester instead- sleeping on the job would be a requirement rather than 'unprofessional'.

"(Y/n)? Is that you?" You heard a voice call from the kitchen, and a soft smile instinctively blossomed on your face in spite of the aching all over your body. You'd been on your feet all day. You thanked God for the small mercy that you never wore heels on the job. Impracticality was a Fat No.

You groaned loudly in response, in return for which you received a chuckle and the sound of approaching footsteps. "(Y/n/n)? Babe? You're not giving birth are you?" (C/n) appeared, popping his head around the door to the living room. "Only that would be rather inconvenient timing since I'm halfway through cooking us dinner."

"That would require me to be pregnant you buffoon," you laughed.

"Well, we can always practice the manufacturing process, I've got ten minutes until the potatoes need to come out of the oven," your husband - it was so weird to call him your husband, even 3 months after the wedding - grinned mischievously.

"You have such a romantic way of phrasing things, oh husband dearest," you fanned yourself sarcastically. "But my muscles are currently doing everything in their power to inflict pain and suffering upon me, so I don't think I'd be a riot in the bedroom at the minute."

(C/n) moved into the room and sat on the arm of the sofa, taking your foot between his hands a massaging it gently, laughing when he felt your entire body practically concave at his touch. Your eyelids fluttered closed. "A little to the left."

He obliged. "Stressful day?"

"Understatement," you responded. "You?"

"Me and the kids went laser-gaming," he boasted and you threw a cushion at him.

"Show off."

"You asked!"

"You could've lied!"

"What happened to honesty being the best policy?"

"Please tell me you lost."

"I did. Horribly."

"Good."

"Sadist."

You poked out your tongue. "I won't deny it. But I'm your sadist baby."

You did a terrible corny wink and he rolled his eyes, half at you, half at himself for his heart still skipping a beat whenever you flirted with him. You were married for Pete's sake! He still couldn't believe he'd managed to convince you to put a ring on it. Rebuilding your trust had been slow progress - seriously slow. You'd only allowed the relationship to become officially past the dating stage after almost two years, and you'd made it clear that engagement was off the cards for at least another three. Yet he'd never wavered. Not once.

"Okay, how's this for a deal?" He started, and your ears pricked up. "After dinner I'll get out the candles and give you a full body massage. Put those online masseuse tutorials to good use. What do you say?"

You smiled. "You just want to limber me up for the 'manufacturing process' you filthy bugger."

"Maybe," he began rubbing your other foot. "But are you going to turn down these magic hands?"

"Absolutely not."