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permanentcrossfics · 4 years ago

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Twelve Hours in Miami // h.s. - Part 2

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“Did you really just ask the front desk for a condom?” you asked.

“Intimacy kit,” he corrected you, still pink. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “Comes with all sorts of things.”

“Ordered a few of them before?”

He looked at you, then, and stammered. “I just thought-- we don’t have to-- but I thought if we--”

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8:35am.

You’d fallen asleep just like that -- tangled up, skins stuck together with sweat. Two hours later, you had to peel yourselves apart with whispery snickers and pounding heads. It would’ve been gross -- it was gross, to be honest -- except it was him. You smelled like him, he smelled like you, and it poured satisfaction into a well of need for this specifically that you hadn’t known existed until it was full.

“Stay with me.” Deep, rumbled, and just a little slurred, the words made you smile, and you curled up, eyes closed, when he dragged his warm hands and mouth along your back, shoulder, arm, chest, and stomach. One of his legs was wedged between yours, and he was leaving spongy, scratchy kisses up and down the back of your neck that made you scrunch up. “C’mon, darling,” he sighed hotly against your skin, slipping his arm firmly around your midriff to squeeze you back into his chest. “Stay w’me,” he mumbled with honeyed persuasion that needlessly gilded the spider web of his you’d found yourself in.

“I have work, you know,” you drawled without any real conviction. Hang work -- hang it all. It was partially because of your work that you’d missed every attempt of his to connect like this over the past few days. You weren’t set to fly out that day, not just yet, but he was, and then he’d be gone and you didn’t know when you’d see him next. You’d been gifted with twelve whole hours, and almost three of them were already gone.

“Get sick,” he said, the demand muffled by your neck, and you laughed, turning into your pillow.

Were you really going to leave him there, in your bed, knowing he wouldn’t be there when you got back and that the hours you did have were wasted?

You’d gone to dinner last night, and something hadn’t sat well with you. That was the excuse you used when you made your calls, trying to sound as hoarse as possible, and when the last one was done, he rolled on top of you and you laughed and tried not to focus on how easy it was for him to settle his hips between your thighs as he peppered kisses up and down your jaw and neck, all but gloating in his gratitude.

He ordered breakfast at 8:50am and answered the door in your robe at 9:20am, giving a tip and a smile while you burrowed under the blanket and searched for the television remote somewhere in the sheets.

It was a lazy affair, with both of you reclined against the headboard, captive audiences of the bad local news station you’d turned on to catch up with the day. Every now and then, he’d chuckle or snort or offer his commentary with a sort of bemused delight similar to a wizard discovering a toaster for the first time. “Strange, innit?”

“What is?” you murmured, breaking off a piece of blueberry crumb muffin.

“This!” He waved his fork and the strawberry speared on the end of it at the talking alligator on screen. “Bizarre.” He pulled the fruit off the fork with his teeth and chewed, shaking his head.

“This is not the strangest thing you’ve ever seen.” You brought a piece of your muffin to his mouth and he opened it without breaking focus.

“Didn’t say that, but it doesn’t mean it’s not weird.”

“Weirder than LA? New York? Texas? London? Tokyo?”

“What’s your point?”

You snickered and took his fork from him to steal a grape from the bowl.

“What is this?” He all but wheezed, hand on his belly over the butterfly’s wings as he stared at the screen, eyes crinkled with incredulity.

“Open,” you said, and he did as you asked, tongue darting forward to meet your fingers. “Harry, you licked me!” you cried when you felt the wet slide over the side of your finger.

His jaw stopped midchew, focus broken, and heat burst through you when his puckered mouth twitched and then flattened with suppressed laughter.

“I--”

He swallowed and the bed shook with his silent chuckles. “Didn’t think about that one before y’said it, did you?”

You made a noise in your throat and rolled away from him as he laughed behind you. “Go away,” you said into the mattress. He was still laughing when you heard the clink of dishes being set aside and when he slid up behind you to get close.

“Have to wait a few hours for that,” he mumbled, kissing the back of your shoulder. “Couple more hours at least. Wouldn’t throw me out in the cold, would you?”

“It’s Miami,” you said, voice muffled. “You’ll be fine.”

He turned you on to your back and slunk his way under your arm and you held your breath when he came all but nose to nose with you. You could see everything, good and less good -- every pore, every hair, every slight scar, every mole, every beginning of a pimple, all of it. “Not gonna throw me out, are you?” he repeated, huskier and warmer in a delicious way you didn’t think you were supposed to know could be this good.

“No,” you whispered.

He hummed, mouth curved in triumph, and you could see his mind working very fast behind his clear, green eyes. Where you’d been howling your outrage seconds ago, you were pretty sure you were both painfully aware of how close you were right then. Wordlessly, he nuzzled the warm point of his nose against yours and your eyes closed as your breath hitched. Your lips parted just as his tongue touched you lower one, and you sighed, hands slipping up his warm, strong back when the kiss deepened. He tasted sweet -- a little like the strawberry, and a little more like the blueberry and sugar from the muffin. He lowered onto his elbows and you absorbed his weight and warmth without complaint and opened your mouth wider. His groan made you shiver and when you broke, you were both panting. Gulping, he licked his lips.

“M’gonna make a call,” he said. “Downstairs, t’get us some….” He trailed off. “Where’s the….” He grabbed the phone off the bedside table and dropped off to the side of you, jamming his thumb into a button before lifting it to his ear, and you kissed his chest and shoulder, nuzzling the warm skin.

“Hi, yes,” he said. He cleared his throat. “I’m calling for-- I’m wondering if there’s an intimacy kit on hand?”

You looked up at him but he kept his eyes on the ceiling, though his cheeks were flushed and he was breathing heavily.

“Right, yes, thank you, if we could-- have that sent up, that would be… but bill it to room 2201… thank you.” He hung up and tossed the phone onto the bed.

“Did you really just ask the front desk for a condom?” you asked.

“Intimacy kit,” he corrected you, still pink. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “Comes with all sorts of things.”

“Ordered a few of them before?”

He looked at you, then, and stammered. “I just thought-- we don’t have to-- but I thought if we--”

You kissed him, then, cutting him off, and his hands slid over your bare back as you clambered onto his lap over the sheet. Belatedly, his hands fell into the small of your back, and you were very aware of where you’d be if there was no sheet between you then. “I like this,” you confessed. Maybe you shouldn’t have, maybe it was too much to feel or vocalize, but you did, as quietly as possible so he could miss it if he wanted to.

“Yeah,” he rasped, hand slipping down to the curve of your ass. He swallowed and you kissed his throat, inhaling the smell of his shower and the sex he’d almost had since. He was warm, and where hair didn’t tickle your mouth, he was also shockingly soft. You had no reason to think he wouldn’t be, you’d just… never thought about it, you guessed. You’d thought mostly about how his muscles would feel -- his arms, his chest, his stomach, all of which were moving heavily as he gulped and breathed deeply. It must’ve been taking his every effort to stay perfectly still underneath you.

You tapped one of his nipples lightly with your index finger before circling it in a featherlight stroke. He huffed a laugh and you glanced up at him, smiling mischievously as his own lips quirked. Without looking at him, you kissed his nipple pertly and he tensed his stomach with a muted, “Oh, fuck.” Giggling in a whisper, you followed the kiss with a playful bite, and his hand slid down to your bare ass.

“I’ll be good,” you said, moving to kiss down his chest and down his stomach, each one slow and lingering, tongue touching his skin. “I’ll be good,” you promised again over his navel, chin once again on a thin line of dark, soft hair, and you pressed kisses to the leaves of the ferns fanning over his hips. Under the sheet, you could see -- feel -- his cock hardening again, and above you, he struggled to keep his eyes open and on you, with his hands curling into fists alternately at his sides and on his head. “Is this ok?” you whispered.

Harry nodded with a strangled sound in his throat. He inhaled sharply, nostrils flared and lips smashed together, but he kept his eyes on you as best he could as you eased the sheet down with shaking fingers. For a moment, your mind went blank, and your lip twitched with an almost laugh when you realized. No dick was that good that it should rob anyone of coherent thought, but his was, apparently, and all yours had gone out the window -- laughable in and of itself.

“I’m sorry,” you wheezed, pressing your forehead to his hip. “I just had a moment.”

“Think that’s a first,” he admitted in a strained drawl above you, but he was chuckling, too.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated. “You’re great, you’re--”

“Y’not helpin’, y’know,” he said, laughing more regularly. “Gonna make a man self-conscious.”

“No.” You kissed his abdomen. “No, I’m sorry, I’m fine now, I just… forgot for a minute.”

“Forgot what?”

Everything was too much to admit to, and instead you wrapped your hand around his cock and he groaned quietly, shifting. Hard, but getting harder still, you pumped with a touch that was much more confident than you felt. Every throb pulsed into your palm, and above you, his throat bobbed as he cleared it, jaw clenching and releasing as he shifted his legs. He was the perfect grip -- big enough to fill your whole hand, but not so much that you felt ineffectual. He was smooth, and he looked so--

His groan when you sucked his head gently echoed through the room, and you felt him twitch on your tongue as you ran it around and around his head. Slowly, your eyes rolled up and closed. He felt good even in your mouth -- smooth and silky -- and he tasted like…. You lowered down, thumb touching your lower lip as a guide down his shaft, and you moaned softly, bobbing your head slowly.

“That’s nice,” he said thickly. You heard his breath rattle in his chest and you cracked your eyes open. His own were in barely open slits, and his lips were parted, left arm thrown over his head, stretching his tattoos out ever so slightly as his muscles flexed every time he opened and closed his hand in a fist. “Shit, that’s so nice,” he intoned in disbelief, smiling with a breathless little laugh. “So soft… bein’ careful w’me, aren’t you?”

You blinked and pushed him into your cheek with your tongue, sucking a little more, and he groaned loudly, eyes closing completely for a moment. “Jesus, that’s it,” he praised, and a knot tightened in your stomach. You ran your tongue up and down in short sweeps along the vein you could feel and his whole face crumpled as his stomach rose and fell. He dropped his hand and linked it with his other one over his chest in a basketweave, and his knuckles went white as he took slow, deep breaths.

The rush from looking at him so powerless and vulnerable and open and trusting and absolutely in awe of every little thing you did? Intoxicating. You were shaking from it and you could feel how wet you were between your thighs -- you were dripping, like he hadn’t just licked up every bit of you he could as if his own life had depended on it.

For a moment, with your eyes on him, you allowed yourself to imagine what it would be like to just pull your mouth off him and straddle him to sink down on him. You let yourself think of the feeling -- the full stretch, judging by the way your jaw was just about popping -- and the look on his face. You let yourself revel in the groans he’d make as his face crumpled, and how his chest would heave, and what his skin would look like with the tracks of his fingers over it as you struggled to find your proverbial footing. You’d both be sweating, and grabbing the other, and the thought of his teeth finding your sensitive skin made your hair stand on end and you whimpered.

“Like it?” he whispered. “S’it good?”

You nodded, and pulled off him with a wet gasp before licking a stripe along the underside of his cock, from base to tip and back again.

“That’s good,” he said. “Get all over, s’ok… shit.” His throat bobbed and he unclasped his fingers to grip the bedsheets. “Get all over me, get everywhere, it’s ok, it’s f-fine--” He made an almost pained noise and lifted his hand, and brushed it over the back of your head before dropping it to the bed as he squirmed. “Get my balls,” he mumbled, head rolling against the headboard. “Oh, fuck, please….”

His breath stuttered and he gulped, eyes opening wide and unfocused on the ceiling. Cock wet from your tongue, you pumped your hand up and down while sucking one ball and then the other into your mouth, ears prickling from the soft, pathetic noises he was making. “Holy shit, s’incredible!” he gasped. “Shit, I’m….” Harry trailed off, choking on his words, and his hand came to rest on the back of your head when you wrapped your mouth around the tip of his cock again. You suckled, with alternating pressure, and bobbed up and down, eyes closed and head swimming from his guttural grunts.

“M’gonna cum,” he said, his mumble punctuated with a wordless shout when you twisted your hand around his wet cock and squeezed. He throbbed against your palm and you heard him take a sharp breath as his fingers tightened on the back of your head, but without pressure to push you down. “Don’t stop,” he breathed, heaving by then. “Don’t stop, m’gonna cum so… gonna cum so hard, I’m--”

You whimpered around him and your other hand pressed against his stomach. He clapped his free hand over it and held it there, wheezing, and you opened your eyes briefly, catching a glimpse of his face contorted in the most erotic agony -- cheeks and chest pink and sweaty, hair mussed, teeth bared with his shout, and the vein in his neck popping -- before you tasted the first salty, tangy string. You stilled, tightening your lips, absorbing every groan as his thighs tensed and released under you in his effort to not squirm and buck you off. He let go of your head to clutch your hand against his stomach with both of his, and your palm slipped against his slick skin. With some effort, you gulped, mouth still holding him, before you relaxed and pulled off him. You ran your tongue over his head and released him with a soft pop before sitting up slightly, neck and jaw both aching and throat just a little inexplicably sore.

He, beyond a shadow of a doubt, looked spent. His eyes were closed and there was a slump to his shoulders, and his chest rose quickly with each shallow breath he took, and he still hadn’t let go of your hand. “Think….” He cleared his throat and swallowed hard. “Think y’really did summat to me,” he rasped. When he looked at you at last, he was dazed, and a dumbfounded smile pulled at the corners of his mouth before his eyes slid shut again. “Fuck,” he sighed.

“Are you going to nap now?” you asked, voice thick and husky. He laughed.

“Don’t,” he said. You crawled up his body, unsteady knees guiding you on either side of him. “Don’t tease me, m’only… I’m trying my best, aren’t I?”

You grinned, and you’d just gotten to perch on his thighs when a knock at the door startled you both. Your head whipped around just after his eyes flew open and he gripped your hand tighter.

“That’ll be the kit,” he said, breathing heavily.

“Oh.” You’d almost forgotten he’d called down for it. “Right. I can….” You pulled your hand free from his. “I can get it.”

“If you--”

“I can,” you repeated, nearly toppling over as you swung your leg off him. “Stay.” You flung the sheet haphazardly over his waist and he chuckled as you stood and pulled your robe on, glancing at the clock on the bedside table as you did.

11:37am.

#harry smut #harry styles smut #harry x reader #reader insert fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry fanfic #harry blurb #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry one shot #permanentcross #original writing #twelve hours in miami #twelve hours in miami 2

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skellebonez · 4 years ago

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(kicks door down) INVERTED AU WITH PROMPT 72, SPECIFICALLY WITH MK

I’m not going to write out the ENTIRE TikTok so just. Watch an enjoy the madness that is B Dylan Hollis. It will make this fill so much more entertaining.

Don’t you dare.

Had it not been even a few weeks ago things would be almost completely on their normal “regular day with no special plans” schedule. Wake up, work, hang out with Pigsy and Tang, get Mei to have some fun, run off to Mount Huaguo for training with Sun Wukong, make sure the immortal Monkey King is taking care of himself, go home and sleep (a few gaps between each in case he needed to chuck a water bottle or granola bar at any of his friends and make sure they weren’t overworking themselves and if he came across anyone who needed his special brand of, as Macaque once called it, “aggressive self care affection”).

But no. Oh no. This was not a few weeks ago.

This was now, not even a month after the Lunar New Year Festival. Not even a month after he was finally introduced to the rest of Spider Queen’s family- plus one not so accidental addition who had decided it would be a fantastic idea to experiment on himself for funsies and “oops all spiders”.

Said addition stood, or rather half stood and half reclined on the mechnical legs protruding from his back, diligently typing away at his computer. The same computer he hadn’t stepped away from except to take a shower earlier in the day.

17 hours ago.

“Syntax,” MK said with the most gentle warning tone he could muster... which, to anyone unfamiliar with MK would sound like he spoke the human turned spider demon’s name like a threat. “Please tell me you have eaten more than a single calorie bar today.”

“I have eaten more than a single calorie bar today,” the scientist assured with a barely thrown over his shoulder smile in the younger man’s direction.

“Ok g-”

“I ate 2.”

The proud look on Syntax's face, as if he had figured out the loophole to end all loopholes, was a stark contrast to MK's expression of angry horror.

"You can't just eat TWO CALORIE BARS, Syntax!" He shouted, grabbing the scientist by his lab coat sleeve before starting to drag him out of the laboratory. If anyone was there to witness this they would find this feat impressive given how Syntax dug his mechanical legs into the floor in protest.

"I have survived on these so far and I will conti-"

"Survived, yeah, as a human," MK noted as he realized the other was simply allowing him to lead him along without a fight in the least. "But you're a spider demon... cyborg... guy now, you need more sustenance than that. And you needed more before!"

"3 bars?"

"NO MORE OF THE FUCKING BARS!"

The moment Syntax shrunk back in reaction to MK’s yelling the Monkie Kid took his chance and gripped the scientist’s sides and tossed the man over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes before breaking out into a sprint down the halls of Spider Queen’s lair.

“Don’t you dare!” Syntax yelped, attempting to free his arms or move his spider legs but gave up on the later and instead retracted them out of fear he might accidentally harm his captor. “I have work to finish, young man!”

“You can’t finish if you die of malnutrition, I’m teaching you how to cook!”

As they ran toward the entrance they passed Spider Queen who, upon realizing what was happening, gave them a calm wave and a smile.

“Make sure to have him back in time for you to get home before dark, MK!”

“EVEN MY QUEEN IS BETRAYING ME!”

Syntax eventually gave in. After all, despite his new enhancements he was still no match for the sheer strength of the Monkey King himself in the hands of a very determined young man with a hard line stance on self care.

And somehow this man decided he should be deposited in... his kitchen.

In front of a phone set up like... a camera.

Huh.

“Uh-”

“Hold that thought!” MK said, positioning Syntax just out of sight as he grabbed a cook book and hit record. “A bean PIE from the 1920s! Today we’re doing something different-” he reached over and grabbed Syntax’s arm, pulling him into frame without even a single change in his expression. “Today I have an assistant because SOMEONE doesn’t know how to EAT NUTRITION and needs more Vitamin B.”

As he let go of the scientist’s arm he turned to him, face as serious as a miscalculated formula when a project was due in 1 hour.

“OK, you’re the science dude. Let me tell you something from experience,” MK grabbed the cook book, holding it up. “Cooking IS science. And this science insists that BEANS can be made into a PIE which I think is bullshit and I am going to prove on camera. Until you learn how to eat things that aren’t instant bars, you are going to join me on my cooking science experiments. Understood?”

Truth me told, Syntax didn’t see the appeal in cooking. It was far too much hassle for something as basic as nutritional supplements you could acquire from far easier means that did not involve making a mess you had to clean up later... but...

The idea that cooking could be a science... that he had never considered before. And MK seemed to be pretty well convinced that he was correct in this assertion. This was part of why Syntax had, for a while now, considered reaching out to him with an offer of becoming his assistant. His tenacity and determination was something that was a great asset in the field of scientific discovery after all! And well...

If making a weird pie could get him into the young man’s good graces...

“Where do we start?”

MK held up a bowl of beans to the camera. “Now these took a long bath last night-” he turned to Syntax. “-I’ll splice in some footage from earlier here later-TIME TO COOK EM!”

“The pot,” Syntax noted, pointing to the pot on MK’s stove that had begun to over boil.

“AAGH!” MK yelped, sliding over from where he was grabbing his mixer. “BEAN REBELLION!”

“Eggie,” MK chuckled out, cracking an egg into the mixing bowl with the rest of the ingredients.

“How many eggs does it call for?” Syntax asked, trying to make sense out of the madness he was being witness to.

“How many? I don’t know, it just says EGGS.” MK gestured to the cookbook before them as if it has just insulted Pigsy himself to MK’s face.

“FORE!” MK yelled, closing his eyes and turning on the blender as Syntax held a frying pan in front of himself in preparation for disaster.

And disaster came... just not in the way either expected, as the blender sputtered and just.... stopped.

“... did you just kill my blender?” MK turned the knob on it, shaking it and tapping it gently. “HELLO?”

He shook it harder, twisting and turning the knob on the front wildly before he broke down into laughter. “THE BEANS KILLED MY BLENDER.” MK crossed his arms on the counter, laying his head down on them as he devolved into equally amused and annoyed cackles. “This has never happened before, how the hell!?”

“Well...” Syntax looked around, finding an induction blender sitting half buried on the opposite side of the counter. “Will this work?”

Finally. After waiting for the pie to bake. It was done.

A piece sat on a plate before both men, looking both intimidating and somehow delectable at the same time. But both were well away this concoction was primarily sugar, cinnamon, and BEANS. They looked at each other for a moment before nodding, each taking a fork full of the pit before shoving it into their mouths expecting the worst.

MK looked at Syntax as they chewed. Then the camera. Then he started to laugh through his bite as Syntax’s face went on a journey from “this tastes good” to “HOW THE FUCK DOES THIS TASTE GOOD”.

“Nothing makes sense anymore,” he moaned, gesturing to the pie slice before him as he began to laugh in disbelief.

“WHY ARE YOU GOOD?” Syntax asked, shaking his plate slightly. “You have a bag of BEANS in you!”

MK laughed harder, needing to put his plate on the counter as he needed to hold his sides from the pain of trying not to laugh louder than he was.

“This is like if tomato soup made a cake that tasted like chocolate!”

“I-It!” MK wheezed, holding up one hand to get the scientist’s attention. “It has!”

“I’M SORRY- WHAT!?”

“Yes? Oh, that’s fine dear! Yes, as long as he has somewhere to sleep and I know where he is- ... yes, we would love to try some when you escort him home tomorrow! Thank you, take care now,” Spider Queen said, smiling as she hung up the cell phone that Pigsy and Tang had no kindly helped her acquire.

“So, uh...” Huntsman asked, rubbing the back of his neck in concern and confusion. “What’s up?”

“Syntax will be spending the evening with MK!” She announced, smiling wide. “He’s taken up an interest in baking, apparently. Something about needing to unlock the secrets of tomato soup and beans.”

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #fanfic #inverted au #prompt fill #mk #qi xiaotian #syntax #spider queen

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raeandwhatnot · 4 years ago

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Crazy Baking- Charlie Gillespie Imagine

Summary: You bake a cake with Charlie and Owen, and it gets a little crazy in the kitchen.

Prompt: "How the hell did you get cake batter on the ceiling?!" "Your guess is as good as mine.”

Warnings: a few minor swear words. (Platonic!Owen)

Words: 1.7k

Requests: open (x) closed ()

A/N: I found the word prompt from @promptsforthestugglingauthor! Also, sorry this one is a little shorter than my other imagines. I’m in the midst of doing finals, but enjoy this cute imagine!

“Hey, babe? Can you get the flour and sugar out for me, please?” I ask Charlie while setting two medium sized bowls on the counter. Charlie, Owen, and I are baking a cake for Madison’s surprise birthday party tonight. Savannah is planning it all, and I have no idea why she had Charlie and Owen in charge of the cake because they are wild animals when they are together. Therefore, I offered to help because I want the cake to turn out good! Also, so that nothing catches on fire!

“Where is that again?” Charlie asks.

I turn my head to see where he was looking. He was just standing in the middle of the kitchen like a lost puppy. “It is in the pantry on the bottom shelf,” I point out. He nods his head and goes to the pantry.

As I was grabbing and plugging in the mixer, I hear the front door open. “Who’s ready to bake a cake!?” the sound of Owen’s voice comes from the living room. “Sorry I’m late, (Y/N)!”

“It’s okay, O. I was beginning to worry you were going to ditch us!” I joke.

“You know, it was really tempting, but I knew you would kill me if I didn’t come help,” Owen said as he set down his backpack on the couch before walking into the kitchen.

“Damn right she would have!” Charlie says, setting down the flower and sugar next to the mixing bowl.

“Alright!” I exclaim while clapping my hands. “Let’s get to baking! We can’t be late bringing in the cake for the party! I will mix the dry ingredients, Owen you will mix the wet ingredients, and Charlie you will put the two together. I will then pour it into the cake pan. Sound good?”

Charlie and Owen in sync solute and say, “Yes, ma’am!”

I chuckle at them being so alike. “Sweet! Let’s do this!” I say enthusiastically! I separated the wet and dry ingredients for Owen and I. “Oh, babe! Can you please preheat the oven to 350 for me, please?” I ask Charlie kindly.

“I sure can!” he says, skipping to the oven.

“Thank you!” I smile and start putting the dry ingredients together.

I suddenly feel big arms wrap around me from behind. “Of course, babe,” Charlie whispers in my ear and kisses my cheek. I blush at his actions. I hear Owen gag beside me as Charlie was being lovey dovey to me.

“Oh, shut up Owen!” I exclaim as I whisk the ingredients.

“Aw, does Owen need some love, too?” Charlie asks in a baby voice, unwrapping his arms around me to wrap his arms around Owen instead.

Owen immediately tries to get Charlie off of him as he is trying to mix his wet ingredients. “Ew, no! Get off of me!” Owen complains.

Charlie laughs as he attempts to hold on to Owen, but he fails as Owen pushed him away. “Fine then!” Charlie scoffs and fold his arms like a child. “I’ll go back to (Y/N). Don’t complain about not getting loves when you don’t want them!” I giggle at them being so dramatic. Charlie walks back to me, wraps his arms around my waist, and snuggles in my neck.

“You guys are ridiculous!” I say. “Are you done with your mixing?” I ask Owen.

“Almost!” Owen replies as he mixes more.

“Sweet,” I whisper. “I’m going to run to the restroom real quick. Once Owen is done mixing, Charlie you can put the dry and wet bowls into the bigger bowel. I’ll be right back. Please, don’t make a mess!” I instruct as I take off the apron that was around my torso.

“Okay, okay!” Charlie says, raising his hands in defense. I grab him by the shoulder and place a kiss on his cheek and walk to the bathroom

“She is quite demanding today,” I hear Owen whisper.

“When is she not?” Charlie whispers back.

I roll my eyes and shout, “I heard that!” I then hear them snicker at my response. I reach the bathroom that was attached to my bedroom and shut the door. I use this time to check my phone and look at my notifications. I saw that Savannah texted that we were going to set up her apartment for the party around 5:30. I looked at the time to see it was 3:00, so thank goodness we have time for the cake to cool down for a bit before we have to leave. Plus, I still have to get ready.

Suddenly, I could hear the boys laughing along with a couple of clanking noises. I can’t help but think they are messing around. I finish up in the bathroom, wash my hands, and walk back to the kitchen. As soon as I walk in, Charlie and Owen were wrestling on the couch in the living room. I notice there were a couple of spills around the large bowl that Charlie used to mix the dry and wet ingredients, and they also poured the batter into the cake pan for me. “Guys!” I shout to get their attention. They both instantly stop at my voice. “Why are you wrestling? You could have put the cake in the oven!”

Owen stands up first, “He started it!”

Charlie slaps Owen’s thigh, “I did not!”

“Yes, you did! You started to attack me when I said I was going to-“ Owen starts to say before Charlie hits him again.

“Dude!” Charlie says through his teeth as he stands up next to Owen.

I place my hands on my hips. “You were going to what?” I ask seriously.

“Nothing!” Owen squeaks and walks back into the kitchen. “Here, let me put the cake in the oven.” He opens the oven door, carefully puts in the cake in the oven, shuts the oven door, and turns on a timer for 35 minutes.

“Owen,” I say as I grab his arm to face me. “What did you guys do?” I ask sternly. Owen then just looks up. I hear Charlie let out a frustrated sigh. I look up as well to see cake batter on the ceiling. "How the hell did you get cake batter on the ceiling?!"

"Your guess is as good as mine,” Charlie sighs.

“Yeah, we were messing around, and next thing we know, there’s batter on the ceiling! I was about to tell you, but then Charlie over here didn’t want to tell you. One of us was going to just clean it up, so we were wrestling to see who would clean it up,” Owen explains.

“We’re sorry, (Y/N),” Charlie apologizes.

“Honestly, it’s okay,” I reassure. “I’m not upset at all! I thought you guys broke something. This is nothing!” Both Charlie and Owen let out a relieved sigh. I grab two rags from a drawer and hand it to the them. “But you guys are both cleaning it up.”

They both chuckle. “I got the ceiling,” Owen says, slapping the rag on Charlie’s shoulder. They wet their rags and soak it in dish soap to clean up their mess.

As they do so, I put away all the ingredients we used as well as put the measuring cups, tablespoons and teaspoons, bowls, and whisks into the sink. I turn towards the boys. Owen got a chair and was wiping the ceiling. Charlie had finished wiping the counters as he was drying them with a paper towel. “Thank you, guys. See how officiant that was without wrestling?” I smile.

“Yeah, yeah,” Owen sighs. “But wrestling is just so fun!”

“Mmm, I don’t know about that. The horseplay made a mess in the first place!” I say.

“Okay? You know wrestling is fun,” Charlie winks as he pinned me against the counter I was leaning on. I shake my head and playfully push his chest. Next thing I know, Charlie picks me up by the waist and throws me over his shoulder. I screeched as I was now upside down! He jogs over to the living room before he throws me on the couch. Through my protests to let me down, I could hear Charlies contagious laugh. He pins me down by straddling my hips and starts to tickle me. I try to kick Charlie off, but it was no use!

“Mercy! Mercy!” I scream through my giggles. “Th-this isn’t wr-wrestling! This i-is tor-rcher!” I could barely speak through my laughter.

Charlie finally stops tickling me before plopping his full body onto mine, his face nuzzling into my neck. “I’m sorry for making a mess in your kitchen. I know you’re stressed about making the cake and wanting the party to be nice,” he whispers.

I move my head to give Charlie a kiss at the top of his head, “It’s okay, babe.”

Suddenly, I feel even more pressure on my body as Owen jumps on top of Charlie. Charlie and I let out a groan because of Owen’s weight.

“Owen! Get your fat ass off of me!” Charlie exclaims right into my ear.

“You’re not the one being squished! I’m under here, too!” I say.

“But you guys are comfy!” Owen whines.

“OWEN!” Charlie and I shout at the same time.

I could physically hear the sound of Owen rolling his eyes. “You guys are no fun,” Owen huffs before getting off of Charlie who then got off of me. I let out a deep breath as I could now breathe properly. Charlie holds out his hand to help me stand up. As I stood up, Charlie pulls me close to him to give me a sweet kiss. I hum in the kiss before I pull away.

“I’m going to let you guys hang out, so I can get ready for the party,” I announce.

“Sounds good, babe,” Charlie smiles. I give him a kiss on the cheek. When I pulled away from Charlie’s grip to walk to my bedroom, he smacks my butt. This causes me to squeal a little bit as I was not expecting him to do that in front of Owen. I could feel my cheeks get warm and I walked faster to my bedroom. Charlie giggled at my reaction. I could hear Owen making a comment at how gross we were.

#charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie one shot #charlie gillespie x y/n #jatp #owen joyner #owen patrick joyner #owen joyner imagine

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originalhybridloverfics-backup · 3 years ago

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I Can't Let Her Die - Chapter 11

A/N: Hope everyone has enjoyed the holidays. I had plans to get this out on Christmas but that didn't work out.

This chapter was going to be longer but I decided to cut it short. i hope you like this chapter.

Warning - Not Laurel Lance Friendly.

Oliver’s eyes fluttered open, a weight on his body, his arm wrapped around a slender waist.

He looked down at his chest. Felicity was fast asleep on top of him, her hands curled against herself.

Her glasses pressed uncomfortably into her face.

With a careful hand, he removed her glasses and set them on the coffee table, then brushed her hair back from her face.

The soft tendrils of her hair slipped between his fingers.

His knuckles skimmed her cheek, and she snuggled deeper into him, throwing an arm around his torso and hugging him to her.

He smiled softly, his heart feeling light. God, she was adorable when she slept and so beautiful, the light of the moon shining through the window.

He imagined what it would be like to do this with his Felicity. He imagined waking up to her smile or waking her up with soft kisses.

He imagined what it would be like when he saved Felicity and went back to his time. Would she be waiting for him?

Would she know how much he loves her? Would she know the lengths he went through to make sure she got to live because, if anyone deserved to live, it was her.

He pictured having a lifetime of moments like this with her until they were both old and grey.

When he pictured a life beyond being the Arrow, all he could see was Felicity, standing with her hand outstretched toward him.

Oliver remained where he was holding Felicity close until dawn broke and the sky started to change from darkness to light.

He gently extracted himself from her and eased the pillow cushion beneath her head, and tucked her in with the throw blanket over the back of the couch. He slipped her glasses off her face and placed them on the table. Grabbing some spare clothes that Felicity told him she kept for him in her door, he went to take a quick shower.

After getting dressed and using the spare toothbrush Felicity kept for him, he headed into the kitchen and started on making breakfast, knowing she had to be at work early. He didn’t want her to skip out on breakfast and if it was done when she got up, she wouldn’t have to.

Plus, he enjoyed doing these small things for her. He enjoyed taking care of her in any way he could.

She was always so stressed and so focused on her work and the team that she never prioritized herself.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Felicity’s eyes fluttered open, her stomach rumbled loudly, enticed by the delicious aroma in the air.

She frowned, slowly sitting up on the couch.

Why did her apartment smell like the best bed-and-breakfast? Where was Oliver?

Her mind quickly put two and two together, and a smile pulled at her lips.

Running a hand through her hair, smoothing it out, she grabbed her glasses from the table, slipping them back on her face before padding softly into the kitchen.

Oliver stood with his back to her, expertly flipping pancakes in a skillet without a spatula.

She grinned. “Oliver Queen billionaire chef extraordinaire by day, humble hero by night.”

Oliver gave a low chuckle, looking over his shoulder at her. “I wouldn’t go that far. Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Felicity went around the counter, pouring herself a cup of freshly brew coffee, mixing in sugar and cream just the way she liked it. “That smells great.”

“Let’s hope it is as good as it smells.” Oliver said, and deposit a plate full of warm pancakes on the counter next to a bowl of scrambled eggs and bacon.

Felicity watched him, a warm feeling spreading through her.

Oliver was comfortable in her home, seeming at ease with himself. There was something about him working in her kitchen so effortlessly. It was like he belong there in her home with her and more than that he wanted to be there.

There was something so peaceful about him at the moment.

Felicity liked it. She enjoyed having him here in her space. She liked it a lot, and she enjoyed seeming him so content.

The door bell rang as Oliver was retrieving a set of plates.

“I’ll get that.” Felicity placed her coffee on the counter. “It’s probably Digg. He’s on guard duty today. Not entirely sure how I am going to explain why Oliver Queen’s bodyguard is sticking to me like glue if he recognized yet.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Oliver replied, setting a third place for Digg.

There was another knock on the door, and Felicity pulled the door open without checking who it was.

Digg frowned at her from the other side. “Did you check to see who it was before opening the door?”

Felicity sent him a bright smile. “Have you had breakfast yet?” she opened the door wider as he stepped inside.

“Your deflecting.” Digg accused, shutting her door and following into the kitchen.

“Yes, I am.” Felicity took a seat at the counter as John poured himself some coffee.

“Oliver,” John greeted, eyeing the spread. “Did you make this?”

“I did. Raisa taught me a few things.” Oliver answered, putting two pancakes on Felicity’s plate, followed by scrambled eggs and sausage.

Felicity sent him a smile in thanks and applied a generous amount of cut strawberries and chocolate fudge to her pancakes.

“Looks good.” Digg grabbed a strip of bacon from the bowl and popped it into his mouth. “Tastes good too.”

“Help yourself.” Oliver said, taking a seat next to Felicity with his own plate of breakfast.

“You got any other hidden talents your keep from us?” Digg asked, piling his plate full and taking a seat across from them.

“Maybe,” Oliver replied, a smile pulling at his lips.

Felicity took a bite of her pancake and hummed in delight. “Oh God, this has got to be the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

Dig snorted and Oliver grinned.

The food was so good Felicity didn’t even care about her innuendo. “I love banana chocolate chip pancakes.”

She pointed her fork at Oliver. “You should make this for me for the rest of your life.”

“I plan to,” his voice was low and deep, the words leaving him like a vow.

Felicity swallowed her food, unable to look away from his gaze.

John cleared his throat, after looking between them, feeling like he was intruding on a moment he shouldn’t have.

Felicity flushed. “How’s Lyla?” she asked Digg, wanting the attention off of herself and Oliver.

“Cranky.” Digg answered. “Constant nausea, but it’s Lyla. She strong and handling it well. Better than me and she’s the one doing all the heavy lifting with this pregnancy.”

The three finished their food with idle chitchat until Felicity excused herself to get ready for work.

John waited till the bathroom door closed behind her before focusing on Oliver. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“What?” asked Oliver.

“Growing close? Is it good for you or her?” Dig asked. “Oliver, you’re going to go back to your time and when you do, the feelings she has for you will be different, but can you say present you won’t break her heart?”

“I get where you're coming from, John. I do.” Oliver said. He wasn’t angry with John for questioning this. He understood wanting to protect Felicity. “But I know myself and I know what he’s feeling and what he’s denying. It’s just a matter of time before he faces the truth.”

“Which is?” John asked.

“Felicity is the one person I can’t imagine my life without. I need her. And I don’t mean for Team Arrow. I need her in my life. I love her. I’m in love with her.”

John smiled. “At least one of you has pulled your head of your ass and see what I have seen from the start.”

Oliver shook his head. “I would prefer if he got his out of his ass too.”

John nodded in full agreement.

Shortly after John and Felicity leave, Oliver makes his way to the Foundry, he had things he wanted to discuss with his future self.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Oliver couldn’t quell the irritation he felt when his future self walked in.

It was ridiculous to be bothered by his own presence, but that was where he was at.

It was a combination of things. The sight of him was a harsh reminder why he was here. A ticking time bomb lingering on Felicity’s life, threatening to take away the light to his darkness.

Knowing he was staying at Felicity’s, being alone with her, spending an indefinite amount of time with Felicity that he would’ve liked to have the chance to spend time with her.

He saw the small moments Felicity and his future self shared, longing glances, intimate touches, the need to be in close proximity. It was a punch in his gut, seeing what could be if he gave himself a chance at being happy.

And as he drew closer, the stagnant air of the foundry was filled with a familiar scent. He could smell Felicity on his future self and he was bombarded with taunting images of what his future self could have been doing with Felicity for her scent to cling to him.

“I thought you would come in with Felicity once she got off work,” he said.

“I’m not going to spend the entire day in her house doing nothing when I can be here being useful, but first we need to talk.”

“We’re talking now,” Oliver said, and walked over to the salmon ladder.

“Don’t even think about it,” he heard his future self ground out. “This talk is a face-to-face talk and I will drag you off there if I have to. You are not avoiding me.”

“I am not avoiding anything.”

Future Oliver scoffed. “You don’t avoid a physical fight but feelings, emotions, being honest, you do or you run. However, you can’t do that anymore. Everything is on the line and if you don’t see that soon you will be worst off for it. You can’t run scared every time you feel something real.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Present Oliver asked. He didn’t need his future self playing therapist. He had John for that.

“Pulling your head out of your ass.” Oliver responded, earning himself a glower he was was all too familiar with.

“You love Felicity, but you are too busy playing the guilty man and running scared that you can’t even admit it out loud, only entertaining the idea when you are alone. You will lose her that way and now you are adding Laurel into the mix.” Future Oliver ground out.

“Laurel has nothing to do with this.” Oliver protested, not ready to address any of his self’s other words and accusations.

He never felt so called out before.

“She has more to do with it than you think. She is holding onto you, the same way you hold onto the island.”

Oliver glared at his future self, but that didn’t keep the other man quiet.

“You think you need the pain to be the green arrow, more than that you don’t think you deserve anything good, so you run from it. And Laurel, being around her, seeing how her life has fallen apart only solidifies that false belief.”

“How is it false? Look at our past, look at everything around me. I have enemies that wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone I am with.” Oliver snapped, irritated with himself for constantly pushing and insisted he deserved better. He refused to get his hopes up, that he had a right to anything remotely resembling happiness. It was too good to be true for him. “You came back here because Felicity gets killed because of some bastard trying to be like the hood.”

“Yes, she does, and we weren’t even together.” Oliver said he didn’t sugarcoat it, didn’t try to hide the pain in his voice. “In my time, she is dead, not because I love her but because she is a part of this, a part of being the heroes the city needs. She is every bit the hero we try to be.”

“If that’s supposed to convince me that I can give into what I want and be happy. You’re doing a poor job. Felicity still dies because of who I am. How can you stand there and tell me to bring her closer into my orbit. If we save her, there is still a chance she’ll die down the line because of what we do.”

“Felicity died because of who she is. She wasn’t the target. Roy was. She saw an opportunity to save someone and she took it. She didn’t even think about it.” Oliver paused. “When Felicity loves, she gives it her all, be it a friend, teammate or partner. She would give her life for a complete stranger if it meant saving them. It’s her life, she makes her own choices.”

Oliver clenched his jaw. He hated when Felicity said it’s my life, my choice because it always meant she was going to do something and risk her life. Nothing was worth her risking her life. Nothing.

“I can stand here and tell you to stop running and embrace the feeling you keep close to your chest because I know firsthand what’s its like to lose the love of your life. It’s a pain that doesn’t heal, a wound I don’t want.” Oliver said. “I consider myself lucky to be love by her and so should you. She’s everything and being loved by her is the best thing to ever happen to us, it makes everything we’ve been through, the Queen’s yacht, watching our father die, Lian Yu, losing Shado, slade, the undertaking, losing Tommy, mom, all of it mean something. Felicity makes it all worth it and if I had to go through all that again just to be the man she deserves, I would and I know you would too.”

Before Oliver could respond, heels clack across the floor. “Ollie, good you’re here.”

Laurel appeared, a smile lighting up her face. “I want to start training as soon as possible. I figured the faster I am out there with you, the better.”

“That is where you would be wrong.” Future Oliver stated.

Laurel frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“You wouldn’t. You are incapable of understanding something that doesn’t benefit you.”

“That’s enough.” His present self said at the harsh words coming from future Oliver, feeling bad for the hurt look on Laurel’s face.

“No, it’s not. Coddling her, giving her way, is only going to hurt the team. You, Felicity, John and Roy are a well oil machine. You do not need anyone else. She will only be a hindrance to the team out there.” Oliver snapped and turned his hard, unforgiving gaze onto Laurel. “The sooner you accept this, the better off everyone will be.”

Laurel opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water, unsure of how to respond. She never thought Oliver would speak to her in such a way. Didn’t he care about her feelings at all?

“Laurel, why don’t you go get some training in with Roy. He can give you some pointers in basic hand to hand.” Oliver instructed.

Laurel nodded, sending one more last look at future Oliver before going to change into something more fitting for training than her power suit.

“She already knows the basics.” Future Oliver didn’t even wait for her to be out of hearing distance. “Simple self-defense knowledge doesn’t make her capable of bringing something to this team.”

“What am I supposed to do? Turn her away? Sara’s not here. Her father’s in the hospital. She has no one else.” Present Oliver argued.

“Yes, you turn her away! She goes back to her life as Laurel Lance and helping the city the legal way. She doesn’t belong out there on streets and she doesn’t belong down here.” Oliver said.

“She is going to go out there no matter what I say or do. At least this way I can control it.” Present Oliver argued.

“I am not going to keep going in circles with you about this.” Future Oliver argued. “I don’t agree with this and I will not help. The sooner you realize the mistake you are making, the better off you will be. Now, we need to focus on more important things. How are Felicity’s searches going?”

Instead of answering, Oliver asked. “How is she doing with all this?”

“If you want to know, ask her yourself.” Future Oliver said, moving toward Felicity’s bank of computers. He touched nothing. He knew better than that but he did look at the information displayed on the screen trying to make sense of it all and failing terribly, not that he was surprised.

Laurel chose that moment to step back out in yoga pants and a tank top, her hair pulled into a tight ponytail.

She noticed both Oliver’s watching her and proceeded over to Roy, where he was hitting a dummy.

She put a bit more swing into her hips than she would normally, however when she looked over her shoulder neither Olivers’ were looking at her anymore.

They had moved over to the bank of computers and were peering over the screens.

With a scowl, she walked over to Roy and waited for him to stop what he was doing.

She saw him cast a look away before focusing back on his task.

After a few minutes, she was tired of waiting and cleared her throat. “Ollie, what’s you to help me with the basics but being a cop’s daughter, I already know basic self defense. I just need you to spar with me.”

“Basic self defense, but what about offense?” Roy asked. He didn’t stop what he was doing, but his tone dripped with an undertone that Laurel didn’t like. “But you're right, you have all the basics you need. So why do you need me to help you at all?”

“I don’t, but Ollie said..”

“I don’t jump at Oliver’s every order.” Roy snapped, finally stopping to turn a glare on her. “Look, I don’t want you here. No one wants you here. Hell, I don’t even think Oliver wants you here.”

Laurel flinched, but Roy barreled on, not caring to spare her feelings.

“But he’s allowing it because he doesn’t want you to get killed. However, that doesn’t mean I’m going to get stuck with dealing with your need to get close to him anyway you can or this need you have to be your sister. I have more important things to focus on, like making sure my friend doesn’t die saving me. If you’re only here for Oliver, then you can leave the same way you came in.”

“I get that you’re a member of this team,” Laurel said, bristling from Roy’s words. “But you have absolutely no right talking to me like that. I belong here just as much as anyone else.”

Roy cast her a look that was completely dismissive before turning his back to her, picking up where he left off, pummeling the dummy. “Then prove it because where I am standing, you are far from being a member of this team.”

Laurel let out a huff of annoyance at Roy’s clear dismissal of her. Stomping off, she walked over to where the weapons were kept and found a long staff that was close enough to Sarah’s as she could get. She picked it up and looked at it in her hands.

How hard could learning to use a staff be?

Her hands tightened on the wood as Roy’s words ranged in her head.

She belonged here. She belonged fighting alongside Oliver. She was meant to be at his side.

And if she had to prove that to the rest of Oliver’s team, then she would.

She cast a look toward the bank of computers, seeing future Oliver on a phone, a smile on his lips. It was obvious who he was speaking with.

And if she had to prove to Oliver she was the woman who was supposed to be at his side too, then that was exactly what she was prepared to do.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Felicity was relieved to be walking into the Foundry with Dig after a long day of work.

Ok, the day wasn’t that long, but it felt like it was to her when her knowledge and skills were going to waste at her current job when she knew she was meant for bigger things.

And she was itching to get back to her computers and see what her searches came up with.

She had Digg stopped by Starbucks on the way there and picked coffees for everyone and those strawberry filled donuts that Roy would never admit to liking, but she seen him scarf them down enough times to know differently.

Felicity smiled as she caught sight of Future Oliver. He was over by the Arrow heads. It was surprising how easily she could tell the two Oliver’s apart, but if you knew what you were looking for, it wasn’t hard to do.

Present Oliver was on the Salmon ladder.

Roy was standing with Laurel, trying to give her instructions on bo staff weapons.

He was getting annoyed with repeating himself because Laurel couldn’t focus on anything but Oliver for longer than five minutes.

Roy looked over his shoulder at the sound of heels and smiled at Felicity and Digg.

He spun away from Laurel, completely disregarding her, and reached for the bag Felicity had. “Is that what I think it is?”

“It is,” Felicity held the bag out to him. “Oliver,” she called out.

Future Oliver was already at her side but present Oliver dropped down from the salmon ladder and approached.

Future Oliver and Dig grabbed a coffee from the drink tray she carried while she got distracted by present Oliver’s shirtless chest, a sheen of sweat, glistening his skin.

“I thought you were never getting me coffee.” Oliver reached for a cup.

“I can make an exception,” Felicity muttered, her eyes never leaving his chest.

“I’ll have to remember that.” he replied, ignoring the glare his future self was giving him.

Digg took a drink of his own coffee, hiding an amused smile. Ollie was parading around shirtless and getting in Felicity’s space in an attempt to keep her focus on him and not his future self.

Laurel strode over as Felicity took a sip of her coffee. “Where’s my coffee?”

“I didn’t get you one,” Felicity admitted. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here today.”

“Well, you can go get more,” Laurel suggested, subtly shifting closer to Oliver. “Or I can just share with Ollie.”

She took Oliver’s cup out of his hands and took a drink.

Oliver looked at Laurel for a moment before turning back to the salmon ladder.

He could feel the eyes of everyone on him, but he didn’t want to get in yet another argument about Laurel.

Laurel hid her smirk as she took another drink and followed Oliver’s movement with her eyes.

Felicity took another drink from her cup and sat down in front of her computers, setting to work.

“Do you have anything yet?” Future Oliver looked over her shoulder at his screens, so close Felicity could feel his chest brush against her shoulders.

“No, but I had an idea for a new search that I want to implement. If my calculations are right, we should have a hit for something in less than twenty-four hours.”

Oliver turned his eyes from her computer screens to the woman next to him. “You’re remarkable.”

There was such reverence in his voice that Felicity couldn’t help but turned to look at him, and he was closer than she expected. If she leaned forward just an inch, her lips would brush his.

The thought alone made her think of the kiss they shared the night before.

It was hands down the best kissed she ever received and the most intense.

She wondered if it would always feel like that or if she would ever kiss Oliver again, for that matter. It was all so complicated with the time bomb looming over her head and the present Oliver and future Oliver were starkly differently for not being that far apart in time.

Oliver dropped down from the salmon ladder, clearly his throat loudly. “If you’re going out in the field with me tonight, you need to keep your skills sharp.”

Felicity turned to see him looking at his older self and frowned at the angry look in his eye.

Her eyes narrowed. If she didn’t know better, she would think he was jealous of himself.

The Oliver next to her straightened and gave himself a hard look. “My skills are sharp. Believe me, but I won’t say no to a sparring match.”

Maybe he could kick some sense into his own ass.

It was worth a shot, at least. As he passed by Felicity, he grabbed her hand and lifted it, brushing his lips across knuckles and then he was gone.

Felicity's hand tingled at the touch, her cheeks heating up. She would not survive this Oliver if he kept up these small touches.

She couldn’t explain it, but they felt so much more than a confession. His actions were speaking louder than any words he could speak, and she was helpless against the way she felt drawn to him.

Laurel watched the exchange with a scowl. She realized Oliver, whether or not he admit it, was jealous and she couldn’t for the life of her see why.

Why was future Oliver so enthralled with Felicity? Why did her presence call to both Oliver’s?

Felicity didn’t even have to try. She walked into the room, and she became the center of Oliver’s attention.

Felicity needed to be gone from the foundry. They didn’t need her. Laurel just needed to prove it and once the geeky blonde was no longer an obstacle for her, she could finally take her chance with Oliver again.

And she felt it more than ever that Oliver, with who he was now, The Green Arrow, Starling City’s hero, was meant to be with her.

Together, they could save the city and be who they were meant to be.

Ollie and Laurel. Forever.

Felicity felt eyes on her and turned to see Laurel giving her a strange look.

She had the feeling that Laurel didn’t like her and Felicity wasn’t stupid. She knew it was because of Oliver. It was typical it had Felicity rolling her eyes as she turned back to her computer screens.

Laurel was just going to have to get over whatever issues she had with her. She was a key part of this team, and there was no way she would leave her boys in Laurel’s hands.

Roy walked over to Felicity and leaned against her desk. “How was work?”

Felicity looked up at him. “Dull.” She answered.

“You ready to train?” Roy asked.

“Wait,” Laurel approached them, her footsteps quick and fast. “You’ll train her no problem, but give me crap when Oliver told you to train me?”

Roy looked at her. “Oliver is the one who agreed to you being down here. He can be the one to train you. Making sure Felicity is prepared for anything is more important. Go get one of them to train you. I will be busy helping Team Arrow’s number one girl.”

Okay, was he rubbing it in that they liked Felicity better, yes Roy was, but he didn’t care. He rather liked the look of disbelief on her face.

“Once you get your new search started, you can change and meet me and Roy on the mats.” Digg Joined in on the conversation, drinking his coffee. “You know, I already think of you as a badass, but by the time we take care of this guy. You will need no one to protect you.”

Felicity wasn’t sure she should be happy about this or dreading it, but she wanted to be prepared for anything that came her way.

Anything to keep Oliver from experiencing the pain he felt because of her death.

The pain in his eyes whenever he spoke of her death was so crushing and she would do anything to keep him from going through that.

It was that sobering thought that Felicity knew she was so far gone on Oliver. There was no coming back from it.

Felicity loved him. She had for a long time but for the first time; she was ready to admit it to more than just herself, but she wouldn’t say it to Oliver, until he was ready to hear it.

He needed to be sure of how he felt and where he stood.

A/N: Thanks for reading!

Tags: @erika-amber @msbeccieboo @faegal04 @eloiselili @jendiaz69 @omglovechrissie @icannotbelieveiamhere @hope-for-olicity @keabbs @lageniuswannabe @it-was-a-red-heeler @aguschaer @memcjo

#olicity #olicity fic #oliver x felicity #felicity smoak #oliver queen #fanfic #arrow

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duffy-is-daydreaming · 3 years ago

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Happy 100,000 words to Martyshka!!!

Hello everyone! I’m so ecstatic about the responses to chapter 15 of Martyshka, and I’m equally excited about a milestone in the fic stats: we broke 100,000 words! That’s so wild!!!

I couldn’t have done it without you guys and your incredibly heartwarming enthusiasm. I wish I could give everyone who’s left comments and kudos a big hug. This story has become one of my proudest achievements, and it’s brought me a kind of joy and excitement that I haven’t felt about my writing since I was a kid. It’s even part of how I connected with my boyfriend, who I really can’t thank enough for his help and investment in the story despite having never even heard of Psychonauts before we met. It’s been an incredible journey so far, and I’m looking forward to seeing it through.

To celebrate 100k words, I decided to put my baking skills to work and make some raspberry swirl cupcakes—partly because raspberry is my favorite flavor, and partly because it sounds like Raz’s name and I have a very easy sense of humor. I took some shortcuts for the sake of time, but they still turned out fantastic. I documented the experience for anyone who’s interested, so whether you’re in the mood for cupcakes or you just like looking at pictures of food, read under the cut for some celebratory baked goodness. Thank you all again! 💙

So this recipe comes in three parts: the cupcakes themselves, the raspberry filling, and the frosting.

For the cupcakes, I used:

1 box vanilla cake mix

3 eggs

1/2 cup butter, melted

1 cup water

For the filling:

2 and 1/2 cups fresh raspberries

1/2 cup sugar

2 tablespoons cornstarch

1 tablespoon water

1 tablespoon lemon juice

For the frosting:

2 cups butter, room temperature

3 and 1/2 cups powdered sugar

2 teaspoons vanilla

2 teaspoons milk

pinch of salt

I chose to make my own frosting because I just recently started learning how to make it and I’ll take any excuse to practice, but you can absolutely shorten the prep time by using store-bought white or vanilla frosting if you like. Since store-bought tends to be a little stiff when you first get it, I recommend mixing it up a bit with a whisk so it’s easier to spread or pipe through a bag. Without further ado, let’s get started!

The first thing we’re going to do is make the filling so we can put it in the fridge until it’s time to use it. In a small bowl, mix the cornstarch, water, and lemon juice into a slurry and set aside. In a medium saucepan, combine the raspberries and sugar over medium heat. Stir until the raspberries break down and the sugar dissolves completely.

Combine the cornstarch slurry into the raspberry mixture and continue to stir over the heat while the filling thickens. When it reaches a jam-like consistency, remove from the heat and let cool for 10 minutes. If you want to remove the seeds, pour the filling through a mesh sieve before cooling (note: removing the seeds will reduce the total amount of filling, so you may have to increase the filling ingredients if you do this). Transfer to a bag or container and place in the refrigerator.

Now, the filling will take a little while to get cold, so we’re going to make the frosting while we wait. This is easiest to do in a stand mixer if you have one, but you can do it in a mixing bowl if not.

Beat together the butter and powdered sugar until well-combined. Add the vanilla, milk, and salt, then continue beating until creamy. Set aside for now.

Now that the filling and the frosting are both ready, we can prepare our batter. Preheat the oven according to the directions of whichever mix you’re using. Melt the butter through the method of your preference and pour into a large mixing bowl or stand mixer bowl. Add the cake mix, eggs, and water and mix until thoroughly combined.

Line your cupcake tins with paper liners, then fill each liner about two-thirds full (there are two tins pictured here, but it’s best to put them in the oven one at a time to make sure they bake evenly). Place about a teaspoon of raspberry filling into the center of each cupcake. Using a knife or a toothpick, swirl the filling through the batter just enough to give it some character. Don’t move it around too much, or it will blend with the batter.

Place the cupcakes in the oven and bake according to the mix directions. While those are baking, I highly recommend mixing some leftover filling into your frosting to give the finished product some extra raspberry kick.

Once the cupcakes are done baking, stick one with a knife or a toothpick and pull it out. If it comes out with nothing more than a few crumbs sticking to it, the cupcakes are done! Remove them from the tins and place them on a plate or a wire rack to cool for 10 minutes before frosting.

Apply your frosting however you choose. I put mine in a Ziploc and made a small snip in the corner so I could use it like a piping bag. If you have any leftover raspberries, you can use them as garnish.

And there you have it! This is definitely one of the more complex recipes I’ve done, but I think it’s worthy for the occasion, and I had a lot of fun making it. I hope it turns out just as delicious for anyone else who makes it. See you all in a couple weeks for Chapter 16 of Martyshka!

#psychonauts fanfiction #martyshka #baking #100k words #thank you guys so much!!!

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retvenkos · 4 years ago

Text

romantic at heart | m.

Legend of Korra - Mako x Reader, fluff

tw: none

word count: 4.6k

A/N: canon? who needs her? certainly not this fic. korrasami deserved to be canon earlier so i vaguely mentioned it, and mako and bolin’s apartment is the perfect setting don’t @ me.

Summary: Mako has always had bad luck when it comes to love, but with (Y/n), things feel easy. So why, then, is it so hard to admit it?

the three times he didn’t say it, and the one time he did.

one;

“I’m telling you guys, this is going to be great! Part Four is my favorite in The Adventures of Nuktuk: Hero of the South!”

Mako shared an amused look with (Y/n) as Bolin led the way into the darkened theater, holding open the door for the group to enter. Asami and Korra passed hand in hand, and when (Y/n) walked past Bolin, they tossed a piece of popcorn at him and Bolin caught it in his mouth.

Mako brought up the rear of the group, and as they walked up to find their seats, he whispered, “How many parts are there, Bo?”

“Seven! And the Finale’s great, don’t get me wrong, but it just doesn’t have the heart that part four does.”

“That’s just because he kisses Ginger,” (Y/n) leaned in and whispered to Mako, earning an incredulous “hey!” from Bolin.

“How’d that work out, by the way?” Asami turned to the earthbender with what sounded like genuine curiosity and Bolin chuckled nervously.

“Ah, well, you know, the hearts of mover stars are fickle, so we didn’t last long… there was something about it being a publicity stunt, but that didn’t make much sense, so…”

“Well it’s her loss,” Korra elbowed Bolin in the side with a smile and he forced a chuckle.

“She doesn’t deserve you, Bo.”

“Yeah, you’re a great mover star.”

A few people in the theater shushed them, and the group settled down into their chairs, just moments before the lights dimmed further and the mover started. The disembodied voice of Varrick boomed through the speakers with a recap of the previous 3 parts of the daring adventure, and everyone fell silent, slowly getting sucked into the mover before them.

Ever since their debut, the Nuktuk movies were a success - a staple of Republic City culture - getting replayed in theatres again and again. After learning that Mako hadn’t seen Nuktuk in its entirety, Bolin called for a state of emergency and got the whole group together so they could schedule a time for a complete rewatch of the seven-part masterpiece.

Mako had been planning to make some excuse - a series of cases that Beifong put him up to, or a slew of paperwork that some higher-paid coworkers pawned off onto him. It wouldn’t be the first time he had to miss something for work, and it wouldn’t be the first attempt at lying to get out of a viewing party. Just three months ago he narrowly avoided a showing of Love amongst the Dragons by faking sickness and saying that Beifong told him to sleep all day so he could be back at work the next. Everyone but Bolin believed him, and Bolin (who didn’t want to see it either but promised Asami he would go) let it slide.

After that, Bolin was better at guessing when Mako was lying, and whenever he needed Mako’s compliance, he set (Y/n) up to the task of cajoling Mako to come along.

So far, their track record had been impeccable.

(Y/n) chuckled at something they saw on screen, and Mako turned to them. “How many cases of Vari-dye do you think Varrick sold after that product placement?” They gestured to the screen where the once blonde Ginger flagrantly mentioned her hair dye product before becoming a, well… ginger. The script was somehow able to loosely tie the product placement into the plot, but the moment earned a couple of well-earned laughs throughout the theater.

“Millions, most likely. Aren’t these movers big in Ba Sing Se?”

“As comedies,” (Y/n) muttered, leaning in, clearly trying to keep their voice down so Bolin didn’t hear. The theater around them was dark and silent, but the light reflected in (Y/n)’s eyes was full of life and mirth. Mako found himself unable to look away.

He cleared his throat, “You do have to give it to Nuktuk and his comedic timing.”

“And Juji’s heart-wrenching death and subsequent resurrection.”

Mako found himself chuckling at their lame joke, and for once, he didn’t mind. (Y/n) smiled triumphantly, as though they had accomplished something truly grand, and angled their bag of popcorn towards Mako. He took some and popped a piece in his mouth, his laughter still dying on his lips.

“Varrick must be quite the director, to get you to laugh in a totally serious, not-a-comedy mover.”

“Varrick?” and there was just enough suggestion in Mako’s words to say all that he couldn’t, though why he couldn’t seem to get anything else out, he didn’t know.

Things were always easy with (Y/n); their smiles were soft and infectious, their tactics in getting him to open up were effortless and effective, and falling in love with them had been the most simple and uncomplicated thing in this world. It should have been with such ease that Mako told them that it was them that got him into the theater and their corny comments that made him burn inside, like a thousand dying comets that took the form of shooting stars.

But for some reason, he was stuck.

Unsurprising, really, Mako had never really had luck when it came to love and even friendship. There was always something complicating things; there were always two sides of him, fighting the other for reasons even he couldn’t fathom. Eventually, one of them would lose. Eventually, something would give.

But until that eventuality…

“I suppose I am quite the comedian. Should I write a screenplay?” (Y/n) was speaking, but something in their demeanor was different - a little stunned - like they hadn’t considered something before and it was only now dawning on them, slowly, but comfortably. Easy. “It would have to be a sequel to Nuktuk, of course. Maybe I can introduce the grumpy, mysterious fire-bender who he’s now forced to share a quest with?”

(Y/n) nudged him in the shoulder, already rolling their eyes at their own idea. Mako looked down, suddenly interested in picking the perfect piece of popcorn. “Yeah. If you’re making it, why not?”

(Y/n) snorted and turned back to the film.

two;

Taking the steps to his apartment two at a time, Mako fished for his keys in the pocket of his pants. Walking the beat had the potential to be more trouble than it was worth, and often Mako found himself at the gym at the end of the day, taking out his frustration the way he used to - pro-bending. Well, not so much pro-bending, anymore, seeing as they disbanded the Fire Ferrets, and dissolved the team, but it was the same training, nonetheless, and Mako had been a pro-bender so long that oftentimes, nothing felt more comfortable than the gym.

As he walked down the hall to his door - second on the right, Bolin had insisted - Mako could hear the sounds of laughter and the beeping of the oven. Despite himself, he smiled, breathing in deeply as he fiddled with the lock and opened the door.

Inside the tiny apartment, (Y/n) and Bolin were working side by side, leaning over the oven as they looked at the baked goods that lay within. The counters were a mess of cluttered ingredients and mismatched bake wear, Pabu had tracked flour across the carpet, and by every measure it was chaotic, but Mako simply leaned against the doorframe, speaking just loud enough to be heard. “Stress baking, again? Y’know, I’m really starting to regret giving you a key.”

"This was all Bolin, actually.” (Y/n) pulled the baking sheet out of the oven and set it down before turning to Mako with their usual countenance. “He told me to come over - he bought a set of mixing bowls and everything.”

“He didn’t buy more counter space?”

“Hey!” Bolin called incredulously through a mouth full of baked goods. Pabu scuttled beneath him, eating the crumbs that fell to the floor. “Counters wouldn’t fit.”

“It’s alright Bo,” (Y/n) nudged his arm with their shoulder, turning back to the task at hand. They used an old spatula to take their masterpiece off of the pan, and Bolin took two from them.

“You have to try this batch, Mako, (Y/n)’s gotten really good at their green tea cookies.”

“Oh?”

Mako shut the door behind him and walked over to the couch. (Y/n) met him halfway with their signature, light green cookie, Mako took it with an appreciative smile. “The secret is in the matcha. I wasn’t putting in enough before, so they didn’t taste right.”

Mako broke off a bit of the cookie, making sure to get a bit that had a white chocolate chip in it, and savored the taste. (Y/n) was watching him with one of their expectant smiles, and he nodded his head, the bittersweet flavor still lingering in his mouth. “These are your best yet.”

“High praise, coming from you.” And there was an edge of sarcasm to their voice, but their eyes were bright. Mako just looked at them for a moment, really looked at them in all of their casual beauty. (Y/n) had moved into his life so early on and so slowly that Mako didn’t know what life would be like without their casual teasing and easy grins.

And, of course, their random (but not unwelcome) bouts of stress baking.

Mako must have been staring a bit too long, because (Y/n) raised a playful eyebrow, and not too long after, Bolin broke the silence. “Uh, Pabu and I have to go, and uh... y’know, do adult stuff, with uh....”

“With Korra?” (Y/n) supplied amusedly, turning to Bolin, who was stuffing a napkin with cookies hurriedly.

“Yeah! Y’know, Avatar stuff...” Bolin shrugged, slipping out the door, only to open it up again and grab his shoes before shoving off again.

(Y/n) scoffed and Mako sighed, calling after him. “Real smooth, Bo!”

A muffled response called out to them, and (Y/n) laughed, walking back over to the kitchen area, where they started to put together another batch of cookies, measuring the sugar with their hands and putting it into a bowl with butter. “I’m surprised you haven’t been kicked out from noise complaints.”

Yeah, well Bolin charmed our neighbors into liking us too much to see us go.”

“His charm does go far, doesn’t it?” Mako watched and (Y/n) moved through his apartment with ease, pulling spoons out of the drawers and cleaning the dishes as they went. Their practiced movements had the surety and preciseness of someone who lived there, and the thought was enough to make Mako’s throat dry.

“So,” Mako cleared his throat and walked over to (Y/n) passing them the egg they were reaching for. “you measure everything with your hands, and yet you’re constantly insisting that baking is a science. How does that work?”

“It’s all in the weight and look of it - a full cup is a far cry from a fourth.” (Y/n) mixed the ingredients together, their brow set in concentration, “Or, at least, that’s what my mom used to say. What I will tell you—” they looked up at Mako rather suddenly, that intensity still alight within them “—is that it’s in how it feels.”

“So the weight of it.”

“Yes... but it’s more than that.” (Y/n) looked at him with their sharp eyes, as though trying to judge something. “Go wash your hands,” and they jerked their head to the side, “I’ll show you.”

Mako didn’t even hesitate to do as they said, and even though Bolin had left, he could hear his voice - a surprised “what...?” - nagging the back of his mind. It was easy to shrug off. It was (Y/n). Everything was easy when it came to them.

“Alright,” (Y/n) said, with a hint of childish excitement, as Mako slung the towel he had used to dry his hands over his shoulder. “Give me your hands.”

Their touch tickled and their fingers - dry and powdery from the flour - grazed over his, opening his palms with a gentle sort of care.

“Here is one cup or so.” (Y/n) grabbed a handful of flour, transferred it to their other hand, and skimmed some off the top before placing it in his. “Yeah, you can feel the weight, and you can see how much there is, but you have to kind of trust that what you're feeling is right, because it’s not always going to feel the same, right? When you’re tired or you’ve been baking all day, things feel different, even though they’re the same.”

“All this for flour?”

“For each cup of flour. We need two and a half.”

“I can see why Bolin asks you to do the baking.” (Y/n) chuckled and guided his hands to the mixing bowl, where Mako let the flour slip out of his fingertips like really fine sand. “But I can tell that you feel it...” the last bit of flour fell out of his hands, but Mako let his hands hover near (Y/n)’s for just a moment longer, “and that’s good enough.”

They smiled, and it has all the serenity and beauty of dawn. “I’ll make a baker of you, yet.” They added more flour to the bowl and started mixing, their gaze flicking up to Mako. “One of these days you’re going to understand the feeling of it.”

“I...” and part of Mako wanted to say that he already did, that his feelings were about the only thing he understood when it came to moments like these, but the words got caught in his throat, and he found himself unable to get them out. “I think we’ll have to do a lot more baking, then.”

three;

Mako ran, the ground beneath his feet steady and his breathing exact. The beauty of Republic City Park surrounded him and in the early morning, when the air was just nippy enough to need a jacket, there were few people to be found. The usual groups of people practicing tai chi or playing Pai Sho weren’t out yet, and the sun was just peaking over the horizon.

Morning runs often gave Mako a sense of clarity - there was very little he could focus on when in fast, forward motion, and everything complicated fell away. It was just him, the ground, and the fire in his veins.

Mako slowed to a jog, and when he found an empty park bench, he sat down, wiping the sweat off of his brow. The shadows were just starting to creep away, losing to the brilliance of the sun and hiding in each recess and tiny alcove. The duck pond in front of him was warming to a crystal-like blue. Mako breathed out and tipped his head back, letting the stillness wash over him, his thoughts slowly catching up with him.

“Mako?”

And at first, he thought it was just his feelings for (Y/n) meeting up with him once more, but then he heard the steady pounding of the pavement and there they were jogging toward him, ushering in the morning with a comfortable pace.

“Heading into work later than usual?” They stopped by the bench and Mako slid over so they’d have room to sit.

“No, Beifong told me to take a day off. I usually do paperwork today, but she handed it off to someone else.”

(Y/n) hummed in acknowledgement. “So you’re joining Asami and me for our run, then?”

"Huh?”

“Asami and I usually go on a run, at this time. We meet here.”

“Asami told me that I should take a run since I wasn’t going into work today.”

Both of them scoffed, relaxing deeper into the metal bench. For a moment they just sat there, taking in the moment, and letting the world dawn on them, a beautiful mixture of colors - a painting slowly completing itself. Eventually, (Y/n) turned to Mako, an eyebrow raised in jest. “Do you reckon they think they’re being slick?”

“Probably - and it’ll only get worse once they get Korra on board.”

“Who’s to say they haven’t already?” The two chuckled, shaking their heads at the efforts of their friends, and (Y/n) knocked their knees together, leaning in a little closer. “It’s alright, I like spending time with you.”

“You’re gonna hate me once we finish this run, though.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to buy me some tea, afterwards.” (Y/n) stood up, stretching their arms and letting out a yawn. “To make it up to me, of course.”

Mako stifled a smile and stood, making a show of his weary sigh. “Alright” —(Y/n) rolled their eyes at him— “You drive a hard bargain.”

They started off at a slow jog, and every minute or so Mako upped the intensity until they were sprinting across Republic City Park, occasionally dodging the wayward soul taking a morning stroll. The world blurred around them, the lush foliage turning into swaths of green with the occasional pinprick of color - purple or yellow, green or blue. As they slowed down, the world became more defined, and when they came to a walk, (Y/n) pulled ahead and turned around so they could walk backwards, facing Mako with a breathless grin.

“You owe me at least a muffin to go along with that tea, after what you just pulled. I almost ran into a woman walking her toddler! Could you imagine what would have happened, had I hit her?”

Mako laughed, still coming down from his high, and (Y/n) grinned at the sound - dazzling and so bright, it put the sun to shame. “Let’s get you out of the park, then, before you start running down Pai Sho players.”

The two fell into step beside each other, taking the path out of the park and into the busy streets. Already, Republic City was booming with life, and the two were rather quick to slip into the quiet tea shop that was just around the corner. Inside, the cafe was fairly empty, with slow music playing from the speakers. (Y/n) closed their eyes and breathed in the smell of freshly-baked muffins, and Mako was quick to look away when they caught him staring.

(Y/n) walked towards the case that held all of the baked goods, trying to read the different types they had displayed. “This is way better than trying to throw something together at my apartment.”

Mako pulled his attention away from the menu board, where he had been searching for the right type of tea. “Your apartment? You mean you actually have a place to go, other than mine?”

“You gave me the key.”

“For emergencies.”

(Y/n) scoffed. “Well, ‘emergencies’ is in clear need of a mutual definition.”

The two ordered, and Mako paid, despite (Y/n) saying they had the money, and when their order was ready, they took a seat in the corner, next to a window that overlooked a busy intersection. (Y/n) insisted they split the muffin and gave half to Mako, and after settling into their more calm atmosphere, (Y/n) turned to Mako.

“So, what are you going to do for the rest of your day off?�� (Y/n) took a sip of their tea and fixed Mako with one of those stares - the kind that saw through everything else, and somehow got down to his core. “I can’t imagine this is what you had planned.”

“Uh… I don’t know. I figured I’d go home and work on finding a lead to a case or something.”

“Even though Beifong told you to take the day off?”

“Well, I’m not at the station…” Mako trailed off, suddenly finding great interest in the rim of his cup.

“And you’re not going to work from home, either.” (Y/n) scoffed exaggeratedly, and though Mako was the most incorrigible person they’d ever met. Although, in their defense, he probably was. “Not on my watch.”

“So what, you’re going to find something for me to do all day?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

Mako watched as (Y/n) sat back in the booth, a triumphant yet challenging smile on their face, and he felt the disbelief in his chest melt into something softer. It was there, again, that urge to say something both incredibly brave and terribly stupid; that desire to put all of his feelings into words and express them more truly than anything else.

“Alright,” Mako swallowed and allowed himself a small smile. “If that’s what it takes.

✧ *:･ﾟ

one;

Just when Mako had admitted to (Y/n) that he was an avid reader, he couldn’t remember, but at some point, they had found out, and ever since, the two spent their lazy weekends sprawled out on his sky blue sofa, books in hand. This time, (Y/n) had come earlier than usual, and by midday, they had already finished their novel - a fast-paced murder mystery with just a bit of a redemption arc for one of the main leads. They had talked about (Y/n)’s book while walking down to the market to get the necessary fixings for dinner, and when they came back to Mako’s tiny apartment, he passed them one of his favorites to read - a historical fiction that combined elements of notable legends and recorded history to make an interesting thriller with plenty of easy-to-digest drama.

When (Y/n) took it from him, they took one look at the summary and raised an eyebrow. “This is one of your favorites?” Mako had tried to push down his embarrassment, stuttering out some kind of response, but had just smiled. “It’s not a bad thing, just surprising. I’m sure I’ll love it.”

And they did. For the next hour and a half, the two sat in Mako’s apartment in relative silence, reading separate novels and making the occasional exclamation of shock, betrayal, joy, and surprise. Mako had looked over at (Y/n) occasionally, trying to judge where they were in the book, and whether they were enjoying it just as much as he had, the first time.

At some point in the day, the sun filtering through the window matured into a deeper, golden shade, turning the afternoon into early evening. Mako, who had been thoroughly engrossed in his novel for the better part of the day, stood up from his couch and stretched when he noticed the change in light. Letting out a sigh, he made his way over to the kitchen area. As he started to make dinner for the both of them, Mako missed the way that (Y/n) turned to look at him from their place on the couch, a lopsided grin on their face. They still lay on the turquoise material, sitting upside down with their feet in the air, book in hand and the red couch cushion resting on their stomach, watching as Mako turned on the stove with a click of propane and a bit of fire bending.

It wasn't long before the apartment was full of the comforting smell of Mako's cooking, and soon (Y/n) found it impossible to focus on the page before them. They opted to right themself instead and watch Mako as he finished up, adding the finishing touches to the meal before splitting what lay in the pan into two different bowls.

He handed a bowl to (Y/n) as he settled onto the couch, both of them moving to sit cross-legged, their knees touching. (Y/n) savored the flavor of Mako's signature dish, and he gestured to the book beside them.

"How're you liking it so far?"

"The book? It's great. Perfectly paced, in my opinion, although I wouldn't mind for a little bit more world-building. The time period is so interesting and they could lean into it a little more."

Mako nodded, satisfied with the smile on their face and the eagerness in their tone. "I figured you'd like it. There's a lot happening, but the characters are good enough to carry the story."

"That's a raving review, coming from you." (Y/n) laughed, the sound falling from their lips effortlessly. "And I can see why it's your favorite. You like a good redemption arc, don't you?"

"It's an interesting enough idea."

"A rather sweet one, too. Are you sure you're not a romantic at heart?"

Mako scoffed in response, but even so, he could feel his cheeks burning up, the nagging voice in his head (the one that told him to just confess already, or do something equally as rash) getting louder from conviction. "I think that's you."

"Oh definitely, but there's always room for one more," (Y/n) mumbled through a mouth full of noodles. "And judging by your taste in books, I'd say you already are."

"There's not even a romantic subplot!"

"The main character literally took lightning to the face for his best friend, and then proceeded to say that he’d do it all again, if it meant they could stay together. Are you telling me there isn't something there?"

“You said yourself that they’re friends!”

“C’mon, Mako,” (Y/n) deadpanned, setting aside their dinner so that they could use their hands to punctuate their speech. There was a fire in their eyes, and something restless in the way they moved - like there was something important they were trying to say. “Friendship is clearly just an excuse for them.”

“An excuse?” Mako felt his throat dry. Suddenly, he was acutely aware of their proximity, and the little space that still existed between them - like they were almost touching, and yet oceans apart.

(Y/n)’s hands fidgeted in their lap. “Yeah, like… An easy out when you’re too afraid to go for it...or when you think you’re not enough.” Part of Mako wanted to look away, but (Y/n)’s eyes had caught his gaze too fully and the other part of him battled to stay. For the longest moment, he couldn’t move. “But they love each other - you can see it.”

There was a battle waging war inside Mako; each side fighting the other for dominance, and only one coming out on top. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost like a deep sigh. “Yeah, they love each other.”

(Y/n) smiled, their mouth moving with just the slightest tremble, and part of Mako wondered what had disrupted the ease with which they did everything, but another part of him already knew. Mako reached out and cupped their cheek, the feeling of their skin against his flooding him with courage he didn’t know he had.

“And I love you, (Y/n).”

“About time you confessed to me.” (Y/n)’s eyes sparkled in jest before they surged forward, kissing Mako and igniting the fire in his chest. All he could think about was them and the way they blissfully invaded all of his senses, how soft their lips were, and how strong their hands were, as they wrapped around him, pulling him nearer. When they broke apart, (Y/n) rested their forehead on his.

Then they said it, their voice a whisper that sent him tumbling over the edge, their breath fanning against his cheek.

“I love you, too.”

Mako kissed them again, craving the feeling of their lips against his, chasing after the way they made him feel - like every moment had led to this, like every battle had been worth the struggle. Time seemed to stop, and for a moment, it was as though there was no gravity, and the only thing anchoring Mako to this world was (Y/n), and their touch.

“Like I said,” (Y/n) was smiling when he pulled away, and their gaze made it easy to come back down to earth. “You’re a romantic at heart.”

Mako chuckled and (Y/n) laughed with him, the sound filling the tiny apartment with something undefined but utterly perfect.

“Alright, so maybe I am.” Mako relented, tipping his head back. “But an epic romance doesn’t happen within that book, if that’s what you're after.”

“Well, maybe we’ll have to write a sequel of our own."

-- taglist: message me if you want to be added to a taglist!

#legend of korra #lok #the legend of korra #tlok #mako #mako tlok #mako lok #mako x reader #mako x you #mako imagine #lok imagine #legend of korra fanfic #legend of korra imagine #fluff #reader insert #atla #gender neutral reader #and yeah you can measure flour and stuff with your hands i do it all the time don't @ me

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autistic-ranboo · 4 years ago

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hey, hm, li, can i get a little request? in light of the recent events, could we maybe get some technoblade centered wholesomeness? maybe him having tea with kristin and phil or with michael and shroud, or even maybe with all of them... i just need something to make me happier because the recent news broke me /gen -sugar

phil's little cabin sits near the shores of a small lake. he built it himself, with his own two hands, and sure, the fences might be a little uneven and there's ivy snaking its way up the small stone chimney, but the inside is warm and safe. wilbur's asleep, wrapped up tight in the soft pink blanket that techno had made for him, long hours in the night spent hunched over knitting needles that were slightly too small for his hands. techno himself is in the kitchen, dicing and slicing and generally doing what he's told by phil, who's stirring a small cauldron of stew over the fireplace. there's only one thing missing, really.

they both try not to dwell on it.

"she's fine, phil," techno says as he dices a tomato. "quit worryin' so much."

"i know, i know," phil says with a sigh. he crosses over to climb up on the counter, stretching up to grab a jar full of some kind of spice or another to add to their dinner. "she's probably fine."

"exactly," techno says, grabbing the next vegetable from the pile phil had set beside him. "she's probably just-"

there's a loud /thump/ on the roof, and they both straighten up. phil places a finger to his lips and tip-toes over to wilbur, swearing faintly as wilbur starts to stir.

"i'll go. you stay," techno signs sharply, prowling towards the door with the kitchen knife in his hands. phil nods, stepping between wilbur and the door.

"who's th- kristin?!" techno takes a step back, holding the door open so kristin can pass, pulling off her black cloak and setting her scythe against the wall.

"sorry i'm late," she says, kissing phil on the forehead and reaching past to grab the baby, who giggles and grabs for her hair. "got caught up with a difficult case. was starting to worry you'd eaten dinner without me."

"nah, mate," phil says, "it's not even ready yet."

"oh, good." she waves to techno, who waves back awkwardly from the kitchen; this is their routine, and until such a time as one of them decides that it's not sustainable, it will remain their routine, despite phil's sincerest attempts to the contrary. "what's for dinner?"

"soup," techno says, and kristin laughs, a full-belly thing that reverberates in the small cabin.

"what kind of soup?"

"uhh... the soup kind?" techno asks. "look, we don't do soup in the nether, so-"

"it's ok, techno," she says, when she can get a full breath. "it's probably hard to make soup if your water boils off immediately instead."

"pretty much," phil says, having returned to soup-stirring duty. "speaking of soup, this one is just about ready, if you want to grab a bowl."

"y'know he was worryin' about you," techno says as they eat, and it takes all of phil's control not to splatter soup all over the walls. "maybe even mopin' for a bit there."

"really?" kristin asks, teasing. "moping, you say."

"yeah, he was all 'boo hoo hoo my wife isn't here yet what if she's dead?' and i was like, 'i'm pretty sure we'd know if death herself-'"

"an /agent/ of death," kristin corrects, but it's not serious and she's struggling not to crack up at her silly, beloved, adorable husband, whose face is easily as red as the beetroot stew they're eating, despite his best attempts otherwise.

it's quiet in the house, despite the noise of its residents. the cicadas chirping outside almost drown out the gentle ribbing mixed with laughter mixed with love, so much love, that the universe bends around them for just a minute, and gives them peace.

#cw cancer #cancer tw #technoblade #philza #cancer mention #like just the news from techno is mentioned in the ask the ficlet is just fluff i promise #but im tagging just in case ppl wanna avoid it #mumza #mumza verse #this is in the mumza verse set right after she became an agent of death but before she was banished from walking the mortal world #sorry sugar the mumzaverse has Much Angst but i have done My Best to make this pure fluff #baby wilbur is in this as well #anyways i hope u enjoy. took me a bit to get into the fluff headspace ngl but i think it came out ok #fun fact! in my hcs phil is a decent cook for flavor techno can follow a recipe but mumza can barely boil pasta #(niki teaches her after they meet. she learns to bake but not to cook. techno and phil are both fans of this decision.)#sugar anon (beloved)

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kyloswarstars · 4 years ago

Text

ROOMMATES • Part 4

Divergent • College AU • Eric x Reader

ROOMMATES masterlist 💫 Divergent masterlist

You escaped your current living situation by moving in with your friend Christina – and five other college students. Little did you know that one of them was the guy who was your ultimate pain in the neck since your first semester. Now, you had to find a way to not strangle him in his sleep out of pure frustration. Also, you had to find a way to get rid of those weird butterfly feelings for him that slowly grew in your stomach.

Words • 2.3k

Warnings • mentions of drug use and unsettling text messages

The enemies to lovers story no one needed.

/////

In the following weeks you noticed Eric’s drive to make your life extra hard, by going against your opinions, decreased. You got along. Occasionally, your thoughts drifted back to that weird moment in the furniture store. Holding hands. And his fingers trying to intertwine with yours. If that was a deliberate action or an automatic reaction – you couldn’t say. All you knew was that the memory of it made your stomach twist and you didn’t like that.

The number of folded papers in your pockets had increased immensely. They were pulled out under the dinner table when you couldn’t endure Eric’s stares anymore. Or while waiting for the shower to be free. Or right after the ‚GN‘ knock at night when that stupid smile on your lips didn’t want to leave.

It was Friday. Friday was the weekly grocery haul day. It was your second time having to fulfil that task. The first time it had been with Tris who patiently showed you what everyone’s favorite snack was – Eric’s were those little pretzels covered in chocolate – and what kind of vegetables were an ultimate must buy.

It was Friday. And this time you had to go shopping with Eric. In the morning he told you to get read for noon. At noon he told you to get ready for five. At five he tried to push it back once more but you grew impatient.

„If we don’t go now, we don’t have to go at all today. All the fresh stuff will be gone,“ you pointed out, grabbed your backpack and didn’t leave him a choice anymore really. You put on your shoes and left the apartment. Eric was rambling something as he came rushing down the stairs after you.

„Where did you park?“

„Left.“

You walked ahead and tried to spot his car without being able. Further down the road you started to cross a street and suddenly felt a hand around your wrist. Eric nodded behind his back. „This way.“

His hand was immediately gone after telling you to change directions. Still, the spots where his fingertips had touched your skin was burning as if they had left marks. I don’t like that at all.

You were well prepared. After all you had the complete day to brace yourself for the struggle you expected. The shopping list was in your pocket, though not the only paper in there, the community money was in your backpack and you took a drag, or five, of Will’s joint earlier.

The store wasn’t that filled as you thought it would be on a Friday. Good. A lot of people made you nervous.

Eric pushed the cart and already at the first stop, fruit section, he remembered that your last discussion had been a few days ago. Too long. Time to settle for a new one.

„Take the blueberries.“ He pointed to the little containers as if you didn’t know what blueberries were.

„I want apples so I’m getting apples,“ you stated.

„Blueberries are super high on antioxidants, you know.“

„Cool but I don’t want to eat thirty tiny things. I want to eat one thing.“

„Fine. But I want blueberries.“

„Then take them yourself. You’re not decoration, Eric. You have hands to use them.“ You shook your head at how ridiculous he was. You weren’t his personal shopping assistant, this was a team work thing.

The veggie section wasn’t any better. You just tried to work your way through the shopping list and directed Eric on what else to pick. Admittedly, since living with your roommates, your eating got a lot healthier because they actually knew how to cook.

You completed the booze area, cheese heaven and dairy aisle without any further debates and turned into a new aisle. Then took a step back out of it again to look down the hallway.

„What now?“ Eric stopped the cart in time before running you over.

„I thought I saw someone I know.“ No one was there though. And if that person, you that had been there, really was there, you were glad they disappeared. Meeting ghosts from the past was under no circumstances something you wanted to happen while Eric was around.

Snack aisle. You grabbed some nuts for you and also the chocolate pretzels without thinking twice. Which caused another awkward moment when you placed them in the cart. Was life to be full of awkward moments now?

Eric looked at you bluntly, then forced a smile on his lips. You picked out the favorite snacks of your other roommates as well to show that his wasn’t the only one you remembered.

Whenever you turned into a new aisle you nervously checked if there was a ghost from the past. You never found one and were incredibly relieved when you made it through check out and had stored all the groceries in Eric’s trunk. And the backseat.

„Smartie waved at me yesterday,“ Eric said as the car rolled from the parking lot onto the street.

„Are you sure you didn’t imagine that?“

„It was close enough to be counted as a wave,“ he admitted. Though, talking about penguins broke the tense atmosphere. You hadn’t even been on the road for a minute and Eric pulled into another parking lot. He stopped at a diner drive thru window. „Milkshake?“

„Doesn’t look like I can say no now that we’re here.“

He rolled down his window and you were greeted by a waitress. She asked what she could serve you.

„Two milkshakes,“ Eric turned to you. „What flavour do you want?“

You leaned over to the window. „Strawberry, please,“ you smiled at the waitress and found yourself – too close to Eric’s face. Half leaning on his chest he mumbled a ‚for me too‘. Yep. Life would be full of awkward moments from now on.

You saved yourself to the passenger side and tried to hide the heat rising in your face by looking out the window. In fact you rolled it down to get a cool breeze. No chance, though. Chicago didn’t want to help you with that today.

„There you go!“ The waitress handed your milkshakes to Eric and you carefully made sure that this time your fingers wouldn’t touch. You sipped on your milkshake all the way back to the apartment.

The more often you took the way up and down the three flights of stairs, the more your muscles grew used to it. On moving day your legs had trembled so bad. Now, that all the groceries were up in the apartment you didn’t notice a single muscle being impressed by the stairs anymore.

Eric kneeled at the fridge, you handed him all the groceries that had to go in there. When you fished his blueberries out of the bag you couldn’t bite back a remark.

„Here, Eric. May they taste as good as my apples.“

He just shook his head and put them away. Once all the food that had to be cooled was put away, you stole away to sit on the balcony and finish your milkshake. He actually joined you.

„Why do you want to become a doctor?“ That question slipped faster than you had thought it to an end in your head.

„The obvious reason. To help people.“ He sipped as loudly on his milkshake as you did. „Why are you studying math out of all terrible things?“

„Same reason as yours,“ you bluntly stated.

„Yeah?“ Eric had stared at you ever since you sat down on the balcony. You had noticed that out of the corner of your eye. Now you looked at him as well.

„Yes.“ A smile grew on your lips. That was what you hoped you would be able to do one day.

/////

The evening atmosphere on the balcony was relaxing. Will came and joined Eric and you at some point. Then Christina got back home as well. One after the other found a spot on the balcony floor to squeeze in and contributed to a growing conversation.

It was warm instead of hot and Four provided everyone with beer. Tris suggested to head out to the beach all together soon. Everyone was all hyped for her plan and you hoped they wouldn’t notice that your excitement for that was just nonexistent. Nevertheless you enjoyed them making plans for everyone together. Christina didn’t exaggerate when she said, all those weeks ago when she suggested for you to move in, that all the roommates were like family.

Eric got out of one of the two lounge chairs. „Who wants pizza?“ And that question was the most rhetorical question he could’ve asked his roommates. Because everyone wanted pizza.

In this house pizza was made all by hand. So far the only pizza you had eaten here were takeouts someone brought home. The thought of completely self-made pizza sounded too good to be true.

Eric navigated his kitchen ‚staff‘. It seemed that when it came to pizza, he was the chef.

„Tris and Chris, you’re slicing the veggies. The guys can prep the tomato sauce.“ You waited to get a task too but so far he didn’t trust you with anything.

Eric grabbed flour from the shelf, oil and some water and yeast from the fridge. He placed it all in front of you on the countertop and fetched a bowl out of the cupboard. Balancing some sugar and salt down from the shelf, he came to stand right next to you.

„Did you ever make pizza dough yourself?“ He lowered his head a little for you to understand him better with the loud bantering about the vegetables that was going on behind your backs.

„Not really.“ You were a little overwhelmed. Not even cookie dough was within the realm of possibility for you.

„Wanna try?“ Eric’s voice sounded encouraging. He must’ve noticed the look of horror on your face.

„Don’t blame me if it’s gonna be a total mess.“

„No worries,“ he stated and he lowered his face a little more. „I’ll teach you step by step.“ His body came closer as well. It actually closed that little gap between your sides as he reached for the yeast. He crumbled it into lukewarm water and told you to add some salt and sugar. It had to set for ten minutes until you could continue with the flour. And during those ten minutes you realised that his body didn’t accidentally close that gap between your sides. Eric did it on purpose and he held it there. You sensed he gave you the chance to bring some space between you again but… you didn’t want to. You physically couldn’t, just couldn’t break the contact. It was way too intriguing, almost electrifying. And for ten minutes straight, he lowered his upper body to shield your nonchalant conversation about penguins – of course – from the others.

When the yeast-water-mix was ready, his following instructions were only whispers, so you had to keep close to him. Why was he doing that?

He added the mix to the flour, along with some oil, and dug his hands in to start kneading. The way his hands applied pressure, provided by his arms, made you… look. To say the least. To be honest, it turned into a very distracting sight. Eric kneading pizza dough? Come on. You had to give in and admit to yourself that this was something you couldn’t deny being totally sexy. The arm muscle escalation, whenever he flipped the dough and kneaded in once again set off a chain of thoughts you really didn’t want to have in a kitchen full of roommates.

„Wanna try?“ Eric asked with a brief glance in your direction, luckily unaware of your current admiration for his arms.

„Nah,“ you mumbled. In hopes to keep watching his arms. You were able to do so for a few more minutes. And were entirely embarrassed when you turned around to find Christina and Tris look at you with a mischievous grin on their lips. You deserved that.

From then on you kept a good distance between Eric and you. While the dough had to rest some. Later during making the pizzas and baking them. Only twice you met eyes with him during dinner. He probably didn’t even notice. After all, why did your brain make such a big deal about it? You were certainly not playing in Eric’s league nor was there even profound reason to think about that.

You were just roommates. Former enemies going onto maybe being some sort of friends.

And then there was a knocking on your wall again. Long, long, short. Long, short. GN. You turned to your wall and foolishly smiled at it. When you didn’t respond right away, the knocking was repeated.

Just as you wanted to knock good night as well your phone buzzed. For a second your pulse quickened, wondered if it was Eric because you didn’t respond soon enough.

You fished for your phone and unlocked it. It wasn’t Eric.

you were seen today

Your heart stopped for a second and then started beating in light speed all of a sudden. You opened the chat.

was that your new lover? already got someone new whose life you can fuck up?

or did you break up because of him?

The text messages didn’t end. Peter still understood very well how to provoke and intimidate you.

ANSWER ME

Do you think I’m just gonna let that sit???

You left the chat and threw it into your sheets. It bounced with a thud up and against the wall but you didn’t care. You searched hectically for a paper but all the clothes you grabbed were empty. The phone buzzed again. First you didn’t pick it up, scared it was Peter again. Then you rummaged around your sheets to find it because maybe it was Eric this time asking what that sound was. It wasn’t Eric. Again.

you’ll regret it. believe me y/n

/////

Taglist • @longlostinanotherworld • @dosentier • @dhunhdchrih • @coryisagee

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supremeinlilac · 4 years ago

Text

What a Year

MERRY CHRISTMAS <33

So this is my secret santa gift for @honeysorwell and I really hope I did soft!Mina justice for you Val :)) I hope you like it and that everyone has a fabulously happy and safe Christmas Day!!

also massive thank you to the wonderfully fabulous @grilledcheeseandguavajelly for organising this secret Santa so well!! you are appreciated, have an amazing day <33

Pairing: Pre Apocalypse!Wilhemina x Reader

Word count: 4186

Valentines Day

You’d finally made Wilhemina a valentine’s card, after several failed attempts at finding violet paper online, and signed it ‘From your secret admirer’. It made you laugh to yourself as you did it, not believing for a second that she’d fall for it. Sneaking out of her grasp in the bed the next morning, you’d buried the card within all the post at the foot of the door, before returning to your girlfriends’ warmth.

You’d both silently agreed that the day would be relatively normal, which meant no lie-ins despite the occasion. You also both had work to be getting to; long office hours which dragged in the absence of each other. The day was inherently normal, and boring so you found yourself anxious to return and relax with your girlfriend in the evening.

Upon arrival back home, you were met with Wilhemina sat at the table, your card held up in her fingers, a playful smirk set on her face. She’d obviously returned and began to sort through the mail that had been disregarded that morning, finding your card within the mess. You quickly fumbled to hand up your coat and kick the shoes into the footwell before making your way over to her in the kitchen.

“Secret admirer hmm?” she mused, eyes flicking back to the writing in the card. “Looks like you may have some secret competition eh Y/n. What do you think?”

Ignoring the humorous shake of your head, she pushed a card across the table with the letter opener, which was addressed to you in Wilhemina’s staple neat handwriting. “Ooooh” you teased, slowly prising it from beneath her finger and shaking it at her, smiling. The card was small and delicate, with Mina’s loopy writing across the page in her favourite deep purple ink. Pressed flowers adorned the front of the cards, arranged in a bouquet and you gasped at it.

Little one, I am so grateful I can share such occasions as this with you, and I hope to make our own festivity traditions in our future. Happy Valentines Day. From your love, Wilhemina Venable <3

Seen as you were busy smiling at the fact she always signed her full name, and blushing down at your feet at how she wanted to make traditions with you; you failed to notice the small paper package Wilhemina had drawn from a bag beside where she sat.

You were shocked when she pressed the parcel into your hands, eyes darting from the gift up to meet hers and returning slowly to what was in your palms. “What’s this?” you quizzed, hand coming to playfully nudge the woman sat in front of you to hide the surprise you felt at receiving a present.

A faint blush painted her cheeks, and an uncharacteristic nervousness overcame her, hands joining on her cane in front of her as you held the small, wrapped box up. Mina was nervous in case you thought she was going soft, or that the gift was unnecessary and unpractical, so you’d hate it. Her worries were uncalled for though, you’d loved any gift she had bought you previously and would continue to do so in the future.

As the paper was removed to reveal a CD in a blank case you couldn’t help but let confusion cross your face momentarily. Looking up to your girlfriend, she tentatively removed the disk from the casing and ushered you to sit before her.

“It’s a mixtape. I always hear you singing to music in the kitchen when you think I’m not listening, so I found the songs and made you this. I know you could very easily get a playlist nowadays but I’m not incredibly informed in all this new technology you see.” She paused, allowing you to lace your fingers between hers on top of her cane. “I wanted you to know that I don’t want you to have to hide something you love to do because you think I’d disapprove. Your voice is quite beautiful, my dear.”

You were speechless, simply just staring at your girlfriend in disbelief at the effort she had gone to, to give you a gift you’d cherish. You tried to say something but your voice caught in your throat, mouth opening and closing again. At your lack of a response, Mina’s face fell slightly and her fingers twitched on the cane she held.

“You hate it.” She stated, clearing her throat and face tightened, trying to avoid looking disappointed at your reaction. That broke your trance, head shaking rapidly and turning to cup her face in your hands, shocking her as you did.

“It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Thank you.”

“You’ve just made my card look bad now, that’s all.” You admitted, laughing softly and shrugging. She chuckled lightly, placing the CD back in its casing on the table and standing, hand finding yours and pulling you into her.

“I can think of another gift you can give to me little one.”

April Fools

You glanced over your shoulder at your girlfriend reading the book she’d recently found on the shelf, occasionally stopping to spoon muesli into her mouth before returning to the words. Happy that she wasn’t observing your actions, distracted by her book, you subtly spooned a teaspoon of salt into the mug on the left, and sugar into the other.

The clink of the metal spoon against the ceramic filled the kitchen, the noise oddly soothing and domestic in the otherwise heightened buzz of life. You picked up both mugs, bending slightly at the knee as you walked to the table. Wilhemina nodded as you placed the left mug beside her bowl; eyes not leaving the pages they were fixed on.

“Would you be dear and get the milk for me?” She asked just before you sat at the chair opposite and you obliged, crouching at the fridge before returning with the milk. She thanked you when you placed the milk down and settled in your chair, breathing heavily and scribbling on the crossword beside you.

Placing the book down, she gripped her mug between her hands, warming fingers against the ceramic, nails tapping slightly.

You met her eyes over the rim of both of your mugs, hers glinting with what looked suspiciously like mischief. You watched her take a big drink from her mug, tipping your own head back and doing the same as to not arouse your own suspicion, breaking your eye contact as you did so.

“Urghg what the?-” you spluttered, coughing at the harsh taste that invaded your mouth. You’d taken a very large gulp, not expecting the jarring taste prompting you to swallow and choke on the still hot tea. Calming down, you looked up at Mina, who was contently sipping at her drink, eyes bright and playful. Lowering the mug, you could see her lips pulled into a smug grin as she settled comfortably back into her chair, bemused at watching you trying to figure out how she’d managed to pull the wool over your eyes.

You groaned in defeat, head falling into your hands dramatically. You’d fallen for her trick, getting that milk that she never even touched. You didn’t notice. Why did you think she didn’t know what day it is. Wilhemina pushed herself up from her chair, hovering over your still hunched form. “Nice try little one” she cooed, patting your hair before leaving the room to get herself ready for work.

You huffed, arms crossing at your chest, smirk pulling at your lips at the fact she’d actually joined in on the pranks. Despite now having a disgusting taste in the back of your mouth, you felt happy at the fact you’d been challenged.

‘Oh it is on’ you thought to yourself, brain already wandering to things that could get Wilhemina back.

Easter

“I hate chocolate” she stated bluntly, making no attempt to take the egg from where you were eagerly holding it out to her.

“No one hates chocolate Wilhemina” you sulked, arms pushing the chocolate furter towards her, a pout set firmly onto your face. She gingerly took it from you, weighing it between her hands and looking at you through amused eyes.

“I made a rabbit pie for the festivities”

“You made a what- No. No!” you beckoned her with a finger to come closer as if you were to divulge a deep secret. You whispered urgently, “You baked the Easter bunny!” you feigned offence, as she scoffed at your theatrics.

You stopped. “Wait. Where did you even get a rabbit?” you stared, eyes wide in shock as she let a soft chuckle escape her lips, hand tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as she did. “It’s chicken darling. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

Holding the egg up and giving it a wave at you she spoke. “Share this with me then? It is a very copious amount of chocolate for one person to enjoy” she smiled, enjoying the way your face lit up at her request. Beaming, you quickly pecked her jaw before giddily skipping into the other room. Mina stayed for a second, bringing her fingers up to brush where your lips had lingered.

Birthday

Wilhemina carefully lifted the tin out of the oven with one hand, the other clutched desperately at her cane, steadying herself from accident. Stretching up and sliding the cake onto the tabletop, she let a deep breath out, thankful to have been able to complete this baking malarkey without hitch. Needless to say, Wilhemina was not one for such domestic acts, as baking a cake for a loved one or planning a surprise that wasn’t a casual act of viciousness.

The cake looked too simple for Wilhemina’s high standards when she’d prised it out of the tin and onto a plate. It was a very humble cake, which she would have been quite happy with had it just been her birthday; but she needed it to have a little more character since she new how eccentric you could be.

A candle and a small sprig of lavender later, and she nodded proudly to herself. The cake looked exactly as it had done before; only now it had a candle and some lavender perched on top ridiculously. The sight would have made anyone else laugh, but Wilhemina didn’t see the need for excessive decoration when the cake was meant to be the centrepiece. It was, after all, the thing she’d just spent over two hours preparing, and having unnecessary distractions from it was not something she required.

You skipped through from the living room at the sound of her calling for you, stopping still when she shouted “CLOSE YOUR EYES!!” Raising your arms in exasperation and dropping them dramatically at your sides again you stood by the doorframe. “How am I supposed to come in when I can’t see where I’m going” you sassed, arms coming to cross at your chest. Wilhemina scoffed, ignored your lip, instead guiding you forward to sit at the table and settling herself, leaning on the back of the chair opposite.

“Open them.”

As you took in the sight of her with the cake candidly placed in front of you, a warm grin formed on your lips, stretching wider when her lips curled up to match yours in glee. You pictured her swaying in the kitchen to classical music, wrapped in your favourite yellow apron with a dusting of flour on her nose.

“You made this?” you giggled, plucking the lavender out of the cake and smelling it. “Yes. Don’t act so surprised little miss. Want a piece?”

She turned to retrieve a knife and plates and you struggled to bite back a surprised laugh, a small giggle escaping as you did. She stopped and turned at the noise, eyebrow quipped in question as your hands lingered in front of your mouth, grin still firmly in place. “Mina. Turn around.” She slowly did as you asked, the flour print on her butt coming back into your view, a stark contrast from the deep purple skirt.

You couldn’t help the laughter that erupted from you, bending over to clutch at your aching stomach. Wilhemina at first went rigid, hand trying to inconspicuously wipe the flour from her dress when she realised the source of your laughter. Then she took in how your shoulders shook, and you let out a little snort, and she found herself laughing as well, hand on the table for support as you both gasped at each other.

When the laughter had bubbled to nothing, you both sat eating the cake and discussing weekend plans. The cake was vanilla; plain, but so incredibly Wilhemina it made your heart ache with pride at her first edible cake being made for your birthday. “It is not as bad as I had bargained it to be.” She hummed, fork between her teeth as you used yours to pick up crumbs from the plate.

“It was delicious. Thank you for making it for me, I know how you hate to bake.”

Nodding at your compliment, she gathered the plates towards her and pointed towards the front door. “Fetch my bag sweetheart?” she asked, sighing into the back of the chair, watching you rise to do as she asked. While you searched for her bag she clattered the dishes into the sink and retired into the living room, sinking down into the armchair.

“Thank you.” She breathed, taking the bag from your hands and motioning for you to sit at her feet on the carpet. This was a usual position the two of you found yourselves in, your head resting in her lap. Watching her, she pulled out two parcels from her bag, setting them in from of you on her lap.

She’d bought you a pale lilac lacey lingerie set and a desk organiser- always the one for practicality over vanity. Having overheard you complaining about your work desk always being littered with stationary and hazardly strewn papers no matter how many times you’d clear it, she’d taken it upon herself to right the issue.

You weren’t surprised at her observance, as she had the sharpest eye of anyone you knew; but you were touched that she’d taken the time to find items she new you needed and wanted out of her otherwise very busy days.

Wilhemina never liked outward shows of emotion or physical affection in the early stages of your relationship, even in the confides of your private home; so she was thoroughly taken aback when you launched yourself into her. “Thank you Mina, I love them.” You squeezed her tighter, careful to avoid the curve of her spine in your giddy excitement. Overcoming the initial shock, she slowly encased you in her arms, inhaling into your hair that sat just to the side of her face.

“Happy Birthday little one.”

Bonfire night (apologises if this is just a British thing)

“There you go, little one. We can’t have you getting cold now can we?” She tightened the scarf around your neck, fastening it and patting it down, pausing to flash her eyes down your body. You were buried in enough layers to warm the dead, arms poking out at an angle because they couldn’t lie flat. Your flushed face peeked out between hat and scarf, smile fixed on your lips as you watched her fix her own scarf into place, her own outfit lacking the excessive amount of layers she claimed you needed.

You bit back a comment about never being cold again in all this wool as she nuzzled her face into yours. “Lets go!” you squealed, grasping her cane from where it stood, propped against the wall and pushing it into her waiting hands. Wrapping your arm around her waist you opened the door, cold wind pushing into the house, and ushered you both out into the night.

Your town was holding a bonfire night firework display which you’d convinced Mina would be a beautiful thing to watch together. She’d let you know her disdain for the occasion; how it had come about because of an old man wanting to blow up the Houses of Parliament who was consequently put to death. Gruesomely, she added; sparing you none of the details of his demise. She also pointed out the mistakes in the plot that she insisted she would not have made if she’d wanted to do such a thing.

Once you’d guided Mina over the softened grass of the field, careful to prevent her from slipping on the mud of a slight slope, you both settled together near the fence so she could use it for support should she need it. The fireworks started, intrusive bangs and bright light flooding your senses which somehow managed to hold their beauty, despite their obtrusiveness.

You stood in front of her; your back to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around your waist pulling you against her in the darkness that encased you. Although there was quite a crowd in the field with you for the display, you only felt the presence of your lover behind you. Her warmth seeped through into you, her warm breath on your cheek leaving smoky vapours to curl around your face in the night.

It was cold. But Wilhemina made you warm.

“You see that lilac one there?” pointing skywards at the firework and burying her chin into your shoulder. “They use potassium to get that colour, see?” Another purple firework exploded in front of you, reinforcing her point.

Turning your face towards her, nosing bumping when she didn’t pull away, you gazed at her. Despite her previous opposition for attending the fireworks, you didn’t miss how her eyes glistened when they would pop in the sky, eyelids fluttering as they’d descend in shimmering light through the atmosphere. “I love you.” You confessed, in awe at her knowledge and how she never let you feel unsafe in her presence.

“I love you too my darling. Now, you see that red one up there?”

Christmas

“It’s Christmas” you hummed, craning your neck to pepper Wilhemina with kisses over her closed eyes until they fluttered open and fixed you with a fake annoyed look. “What do you want me to do about that?” she huffed in fake annoyance, batting you away to pull herself out of bed, smoothing the covers down behind you.

In the weeks leading up to Christmas, You and Mina had had many conversations about how Christmas day would go, seen as you were an avid celebrater of the day and she would merely go about her day normally if you’d allow it. Meeting in the middle, you’d agreed upon a cosy and relaxed day at your home; cooking dinner together and wearing matching jumpers.

Okay, so Wilhemina hadn’t exactly agreed to wearing any sort of Christmas attire, never mind matching with you. In fact, she’s been explicitly vocal in her opposition of the idea. Naturally, you’d gone ahead and bought two matching jumpers anyway, knowing she’d cave in with a little persuasion on your part.

“But Mina.” You whines, childishly tugging on her sleeve as she prepped the carrots and potatoes for dinner. “I even toned down my choice, just for you.” She stopped, quirking an eyebrow in question and handing you the peeler to continue while she checked on the turkey. “Well, I was going to buy ones with bells on. But I didn’t! I chose a borringg one just for you.” You pestered, dragging out the sentence and flicking a piece of carrot at her, grinning stupidly.

She finally gave in after you promised to stop mithering her and allow you to cook quietly, the steady thrum of the Christmas music outside washing calm over the both of you, now donned in matching Rudolph jumpers, working in synchronised unison without having to talk. Mina liked it like this, and you were content to sway lightly and hum a quiet carol to yourself.

The dinner you made was absolutely the most beautiful thing you’d experienced with Wilhemina. Both sat in jumpers, walls completely down for the other and simply existing alongside the person you loved most in the world, eating Christmas lunch and laughing. Really laughing. At the corny jokes in the crackers, to the way your paper hat drooped down over your eyes making Mina fawn.

After the dinner you moved seamlessly to the living room, wordlessly content to leave the dishes for later. Resuming the usual position of Wilhemina in the chair and you kneeling at her feet, head in her lap as her nails lightly scraped at your scalp. The gifts under the tree had been moved to allow you to reach them from where you sat, Mina guiding you with a nod about which gift you were to open first.

Wilhemina had provided you with gifts that held hidden meaning behind them, but were more material than she’d usually purchase; for example the earrings you’d fawned over when you shopped together one day that she just couldn’t help but nip back on a lunch break to retrieve. She’d also gotten you her favourite book that you’d yet to read, even after insisting months ago. “Now you’ve no excuse but to read it. It really is an exquisite book Y/n.”

All of her gifts were perfectly wrapped in her signature brown paper and secured with a curled purple ribbon. Setting them under the tree had proved a challenge for the redhead but she’d been insistent that she place them herself when you offered. “No. I purchased these gifts, so I will be the one to arrange them under the tree.”

You had taken a more practical approach to her presents, knowing she was not one for material goods, nor small sentimental items that would be lost or forgotten about in the rush of your lives within a week. You’d clumsily wrapped your gifts in glittery silver wrapping paper which left silver glitter over everything it touched. It made Wilhemina’s nose scrunch up in distaste as she unwrapped them, her hands sparkling in the glow of the light with glitter.

After some arguments with yourself over the best practical gifts for your girlfriend, you’d settled on a deep mauve weighted blanket which could ease her back pain on difficult days and simply be a comfort on others. Accompanying that, you’d bought her some more leather fingerless gloves and another expensive cane with silver piping and a hummingbird engraved deep into the wood of the handle.

She’d gasped when unwrapping the cane, as you did the earrings, at the intricacy of the detail running through them. Lingering kisses and warm touches followed the gift giving, basking in the glow of the fire in the living room where you knelt by her chair, neck craned to meet your lover in a kiss against her soft lips.

Wilhemina had started to ramble again about the ridiculous notions of Christmas, face flushed with the alcohol, face serious as you gazed up from your position of the floor, equally buzzed with inebriation as your counterpart. “The insinuation that St Nicholas can visit ever child’s home in one night is simply-“she faltered, hiccupping and waving an arm for effect, “-is simply just abhorrently, scientifically wrong. I could never entertain the idea.”

“And as for the idea tha-” you silenced her with another kiss, rising from the floor to straddle her lap and press your body against hers. “I love you.” You breathed, head resting in her neck and fingers numbly playing with her loose hair.

You stayed in that position, happy in each other’s embrace as the evening drew on. Fingers tangled lazily within hair and other fingers and shaped were traced on bare skin. Whispered stories of pasts were shared and comfort given when needed, tears wiped by the careful brush of a thumb. Eventually you fell asleep, mind blank and peaceful after the first of many shared Christmas days between you both.

New Years Eve

“You’ve never kissed anyone on New Years Eve before?” you quizzed, cocking your head at the older woman beside you, who crossed her arms across her chest and huffed dramatically.

“I have simply never been in the company of anyone I wished to share such an intimacy with” she chimed back, before softening and smiling down at you, “until you my dear.”

The clock chimed and you smiled up at her, fingers dancing behind her neck as you pulled her down to meet you in a kiss. She relaxed into you and you felt her smile against your lips, hands reaching for your waist to pull you flush against her.

As the chimes faded, you let yourself slip from her embrace, thumb coming up to brush over her swollen lower lip as you blushed. “Happy New Year Mina.” You whispered, head falling to her chest as you wrapped your arms around her in a hug.

Patting your back a few times; still quite unsure about such acts of physical attention, she finally allowed herself to relax. Melting into your body, her chin rested on the top of your head, dipping only to linger a kiss in the hair.

“Happy New Year Y/n.”

#secret santa #sarah paulson x reader #wilhemina venable x reader #wilhemina venable #sarah paulson #ahs #american horror story #ahs apocalypse #sarah paulson imagine #wlw #spsecretsanta

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tatooedlaura-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Fancy Paper Napkins

because doesn’t everybody eat their fancy meals with fancy paper napkins ...

Our Moments: Chapter 1: Five Words (post-Leonard Betts) Chapter 2: Sidebar Nonsense (post-Memento Mori) Chapter 3: Interim (floating somewhere around Unrequited) Chapter 4: Max 2.0 (post-Tempus Fugit/Max) Chapter 5: Shadowed Grey Eyes Chapter 6: The Warmest Thing I Own Chapter 7: Fancy Paper Napkins @today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

He actually slept, his mind calm, until he heard her whispering in his ear, “what are you cooking and when will it be ready?”

Opening his eyes, he saw hers staring at him, awake and bright, “what?”

“I’m hungry and I saw the crockpot plugged in.”

He broke into a grin, more from her proximity than anything else and forcing himself not to look at her mouth, not to think of that kiss, “mushrooms. Garlicy, buttery mushrooms that have been slow cooking in the crockpot,” looking over her head at the clock, “for four hours.” Sitting up quickly, “shit. I have to go stir them.”

Rolling off the bed, he disappeared down the hall, Scully close behind, “they won’t burn.”

“I’ll feel better when I see for myself.” Finally in the kitchen, he opened the crockpot, stirred with the big spoon, and glad to see the mushrooms soft and unburned, offered Scully a taste. Refusing with an, ‘I’d like to wait for dinner,’ he nodded towards the fridge, “go grab the steak, would you?”

They ate like civilized people, at the kitchen table, forks, knives, fancy paper napkins …

… “I refuse to use cloth ones because they’re too damn hard to clean.”

… “Did I say anything?”

… “No.”

… “Then why are you arguing at me?”

and a bottle of not-so-cheap wine Mulder found in his travels through Scully’s cupboards.

“I shouldn’t drink this.”

“Will it lower your inhibitions? Will you sweep off the coffee table and dance on it if I wave a bunch of ones at you? Will you tell me all your secrets?”

She couldn’t keep her hand from shaking as she poured them both glasses, “mostly I’m thinking that it’ll make me fall asleep even early that I probably would have already.”

Ignoring the tremor, “as long as you stay awake enough for ice cream.”

“I will do my best.”

She made it through half the steak, a bowl of mushroom, and three spoons of mashed potatoes, before finally giving in, trading her plate for Mulder’s empty, who continued to eat without pause. Watching him, she had to smile, “thank you.”

“For finishing your food? No problem.”

Not able to articulate at that particular moment that she was actually thanking him for a thousand things at once, she simply agreed, wondering if he’d figure it out on his own, “yeah, I wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”

Giving her a grin, he finished her food, then stood, “give me ten minutes to do dishes and put everything away, then we’ll argue about movies.”

“Let me load the dishwasher, at least. You won’t do it right and I’ll just have to redo it when you’re not looking.” Standing as well, she bumped hips with him as she walked past, “save me the trouble.”

Twisting up his leg, he hit her on the butt with his stocking foot, “smartass.”

They finally settled on several movies but still sitting on the couch, facing a blank TV and a window with a sunset just beginning to tint the room pink, Mulder gently poked her in the side, “how’re you doing?”

Feeling the urge to move, to take advantage of feeling okay for the moment, “I think I’d like to go for a walk.”

Up immediately, he leaned in, kissing the tip of her nose, “any destination in mind?”

“Just … around.”

“Around it is.”

&&&&&&&&&

Warm enough to wander without jackets, they headed out her front door and turned left, bare arm brushing bare arm as they walked. They didn’t say much, commenting on scurrying squirrels here, a cute cat in the window there, Mulder catching a waywardly stumbling child tripping past, “geez, if I had known we were going to be experiencing a Norman Rockwell painting, I would have combed my hair and put on a clean shirt.”

Her laughter hit his ears like his favorite song and reaching over, he took her hand, never asking, never letting go as they circled and turned, ambled and veered. She didn’t argue, her thin, cool fingers enjoying his warmth.

But even on her best days lately, she gave in quicker than she’d have liked, 45 being the magic number of minutes she lasted until, “I think I’m ready for some ice cream.”

Giving her hand a squeeze, “ice cream it is. What kind should we start with?”

Discussion ensued and by the time they were in their pajamas, they’d settled on dark fudge and peanut butter swirl to begin with. Two spoons dove in, two spoons sampled, occasionally Scully would pull her loaded spoon out and looking at Mulder, found his mouth wide open, waiting expectantly.

And by God, she fed him.

The first time felt a little weird but by the third time he did it, she was laughing, “can you not feed yourself fast enough?”

“Nope.”

That was good enough for her.

Once the gorging finished, they’d had at least one spoonful out of each carton Mulder had bought, six in all, the flavors running the gambit and Scully full and happy and sleepy. “Are you going to be able to sleep with all that sugar in your system?”

Mulder grinned, chocolate rimming his lips, “if not, I’ll have a TV to keep me company while you drool all over your pillow.” A relieved sigh, one she didn’t know she was holding, escaped, and Mulder cocked his head, suddenly worried, “y’a’right?”?”

And deciding there was no reason not to tell him, “I think I was nervous you were going to go home tonight and,” another sigh, this one embarrassed, “it’s been a really nice day and if you went home, it would be over and,” slight wobbly smile appearing, “I don’t want it to be over just yet.”

Knowing something funny was in order, he raised an eyebrow in her direction, “is that some veiled attempt at asking me to move in here?”

Her smile steadied, “just go start the movie.”

&&&&&&&&&

Midnight rolled around and even though Scully had given in and gone to bed, Mulder was still awake and indeed watching TV, some cooking show he’d never admit to enjoying but enjoyed nonetheless. The sound was off and suddenly, the quiet of the darkened apartment was broken by Scully calling from the bedroom, “Mulder?”

It didn’t sound like a nightmare which, in his mind, could only mean she needed help. Jogging down the hall, he was in her doorway a second later, “yeah? You okay?”

Still laying down, she met his nervous gaze, her own a unique brand of terrified confusion, “am I still here?”

Immediately walking to the other side of the bed, he crawled under the covers, his hand meeting her cheek after she rolled over to face him, “yeah. You’re right here, in your bed.” When her terror didn’t fade, he continued, quieter, moving to meet her forehead with his, “you’re with me, in your apartment,” hand moving to the back of her neck, “whatever you dreamt wasn’t real.”

“It will be.” Feeling the bed shake as she hitched a silent sob, she managed a cracked whisper, “I don’t want to die.” Her fingers ran over his cheek, his ear, “I don’t want to go anywhere without you.”

The tear escaped before he could blink it away but he kept the others in, reservoir full but holding, “we’re gonna beat this. I guarantee it.”

She couldn’t bring herself to believe him anymore and she couldn’t keep up the lie at this hour, “you don’t know that.”

“But I choose to believe it.” Hand in her hair by now, he pulled her close enough that their noses were smushed together and eyelashes tangled, “I need to believe it.”

Maybe she could pretend a little more after all, “do you believe enough for both of us?”

“I believe enough for this whole damn world. You should know that by now.”

She could only nod against him, bringing their mouths to millimeter distances but refraining, crippling fear not a good enough reason to cross the line between them, “can you stay right here with me, tonight?”

He crossed it for them, a quick brush of lips, a quick nuzzle of noses, “I won’t move until you do.”

“I don’t want you to leave me alone.”

Both knew the translation of that:

I don’t want to die alone.

&&&&&&&&

The next morning, Scully opened her eyes to find Mulder still sharing her pillow, not touching anymore but close enough to have him blurry in front of her instead of clear. For five seconds, she forgot her world and felt warm fuzzies chasing through her, up and down her spine, settling low.

Then, reality set in with a resounding thud.

Pulling back, she sat up, turning quickly so he wouldn’t see the tears racing down her face. Neither could ignore the echoing sob, however and Mulder, already half-awake, sat up, confusion clearing in a heartbeat as he slid across the mattress, arm around her front, hugging her back to his chest. Kissing her neck and that hated, fucking scar, “we’re gonna win. I swear to God, we’re gonna win.”

And they cried together.

#msr #cancer arc #my writing #MulderNScully #xfiles fanfic #xfiles #Our Moments series #we're gonna win #I swear to God #xf fanfic #and reality set in #with a resounding thud

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jamespotterthefirst · 4 years ago

Text

All-Nighter (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2.9K Warning: Language and alluded sexual situations Premise: He’d do anything for her, even fly across the country on moment’s notice.

A/N: If Ethan had gone to Vegas to spend a full night with MC. Crack and fluff. Sorry!

12:26 am

Ethan had never understood the appeal of Vegas. The city, crawling with gaudy exhibitionism, reckless gambling, and rowdy party-goers, had always seemed a tad tasteless to him. Even in his med school years when his cohort planned a trip to sin city, Ethan had preferred to find solace in an overpriced drink at a bar off the strip and not dancing against strangers in a stuffy nightclub.

Now, he had been convinced (albeit too easily) to take a six hour flight to a city he would much rather avoid.

His phone pinged with a notification from her, reminding him of the adult rated texts that had inspired his impromptu trip.

Miss you. Wish you could see me in this dress.

Seconds after, a picture came in and Ethan almost dropped his phone on the concrete.

And finally, she sent one final, maddening addendum: Or out of it.

It was lucky for Ethan that he was already in the same city as her, one an elevator ride away from ripping that tempting thing off of her.

I'm outside, he texted back.

More than anything, he wanted to give in to the burning need to just have her in his arms.

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

12:48 am

As Ethan waited outside the casino she mentioned in a previous text, however, the flashing neon lights making it almost difficult to distinguish that it was nighttime, he held a different doctor in his arms. A very drunk Dr. Lahela had haphazardly collided with him only seconds earlier, throwing an arm around him after recognition hit. Ethan was still unsure if the gesture was out of comradery or to maintain his balance.

“Ramseyyyy,” he called out with a suave ease that was admirable in his current state.

Before Ethan could answer, Varma and Sienna Trinh appeared at his side. The former looked just as intoxicated as Lahela, though she was doing a much better job at maintaining her balance and dignity. Sienna, however, looked sober, or sober enough to figure out why Ethan was there for she threw him a knowing smirk.

“Dr. Ramsey,” she greeted casually over the noise of the busy boulevard. “I forgot Edenbrook sent you here because of our contract with Panacea.”

It was a feeble excuse to explain his presence to the other two. It didn't matter because neither of them was listening anyway. Ethan doubted they ever questioned why he was there in the first place.

Lahela's arm gripped him tighter as he swayed. “Dr. Ramsey, you have to come with us to the Sugar Factory. They have this drink called the fish bowl. It's exactly what it sounds like except full of candy.”

It sounded like a drink straight out of his nightmare.

“Lahela, tell me why—”

To his horror, the young surgeon's face lit up as he started singing. “Ain't nothing but a heartache.”

“Tell me why,” an equally drunk passerby added.

“Ain't nothing but a mistake,” Lahela continued as others laughed and joined in. By the time they were finished, all three residents laughed hysterically while Ethan remained unmoved, silently wishing he had stayed in the blissful quiet of his apartment in Boston.

He was reminded of why he had left the comfort of his home to venture into the wild five minutes after the group had departed for the aforementioned Sugar Factory. His eyes found her as soon as she stepped out into the street, clad in the sinfully short dress from her picture. The effect it had on Ethan felt like a punch.

Lilac spotted him too, her face alight with a combination of surprise and unrestrained elation. Before either of them could stop what was about to happen, she rushed into his arms. On instinct, he lifted her off her feet, their lips meeting in a kiss charged with promise.

“Hi,” she greeted breathlessly when he carefully set her down.

“Hi,” he returned, sounding just as affected.

“I had to come out here to make sure you were really here. I can't believe you actually came,” she all but exclaimed, voice laced with giddy happiness. It made his stomach leap pleasantly, inspiring a foolish grin he didn't care to fight back anymore.

“Me neither,” he confessed.

“Well, I'm glad you did. I like this spontaneous Ethan Ramsey who flies across the country on a whim.”

That admission sent a thrill through his body. He realized he'd do anything to see that winsome smile each time, even if it meant dropping everything and rushing to her side hundreds of miles away.

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

1:32 am

“Eight, six, seven,” Lilac was saying over the roar of the fountains and the Celine Dion song. “Five, three, oh, nine.”

She waited for a hint of recognition, but as

she had suspected, the drunken frat boy did not understand the reference. Instead, he tapped the number into his phone and flashed her a sloppy smirk. “I'll call you later.”

Ethan appeared at her side after he was gone, shaking his head at her with a smirk.

“Your drink, Jenny,” he said, offering her a cup that looked to be more ice than drink.

Lilac laughed as she accepted it, her body gravitating to his side at once. A rush of dizzying joy almost overpowered her every time she realized she didn't have to fight that instinct here.

“Funny. That's the name I gave him too,” she said taking a sip. “He was insistent and drunk beyond comprehension. I thought it'd be easier to give him a fake number.”

“You gave him a song,” Ethan commented with a laugh. A rare, taunting grin illuminated his face, rendering him the handsomest man she had ever seen. “And you could've just told him you have a boyfriend.”

She arched an intrigued eyebrow, already moving into his embrace. “I have a boyfriend, do I?”

Ethan's free arm encircled her, casting a glow of warmth over her body. It could have been the small amount of alcohol in her system or this newfound energy that crackled between them, still fizzing with longing but considerably lighter than in the past months.

He nodded in mock seriousness.

“And is he the jealous type?”

Ethan genuinely scoffed at that, his fingers aimlessly caressing her bare back. It made her skin blaze where he touched her. “Jealous of what? A sweaty frat boy crass enough to hit on a beautiful but evidently uninterested woman? Believe me, there's nothing to be jealous about.”

“Case in point,” she laughed, raising herself to kiss his nose.

Ethan laughed too and took advantage of their sudden proximity to press his lips against hers, their kiss sweet and just as dizzying as the many desperate, passionate ones they had shared. When they parted, that fiery, striking gaze of his remained locked on hers, making her thighs quiver.

The song in the background reached its final notes as the jets of water disappeared into the dark pool glittering in front of the lavish hotel. The crowd began to disperse but Ethan and Lilac remained on the sidewalk, basking in a content lull, his arm securely around her and her cheek pressed against his chest. She knew without asking that he was enjoying this small allowance of being a real couple just as much as she was.

At last, her eyes fell on the replica of the Eiffel Tower across the street. In the span of a second, she wondered what it would be like to be in front of the real one, safely wrapped in Ethan's arms.

“I wonder how it compares to the real one,” she wondered out loud.

“I've never seen it but I'd wager it's not a true representation.”

For some reason, she found that surprising. “You've never been to Paris?”

“I've been for work but my time was spent doing just that. I didn't venture out much into the city to sightsee. To be honest, I didn't understand the appeal.”

The pause that followed suggested he wanted to add more but he remained silent. When Lilac pulled back from his embrace to look at him, she found those piercing blue eyes studying her intently.

“I know what we should do for that date you teased in your texts,” she said when she finally found the words.

It was Ethan's turn to arch his brow at her in interest. “I thought this was our date?”

“Yes, but we're in Vegas. There's so much to do at this hour. And besides, you promised me all night in one of your texts.”

The crooked smile he gave her along with the wicked glint in his eye should have been illegal. He leaned in and whispered darkly, “That's not what I meant.”

Five words and she was all over him, kissing him in ways that were inappropriate even for Vegas. They broke apart and Ethan looked at her expectantly.

“So what's this idea for our date?” he prompted when Lilac merely stared at him, lips still burning from his kiss.

“Oh, right. I was thinking since we were both two giant nerds who powered through med school and never traveled—”

At this, Ethan shook his head, amused.

“—we could each pick something to do here in Vegas that feels like traveling to somewhere remote.”

“But instead we'll be in a loud casino, surrounded by obnoxious crowds and exposed to secondhand smoke?”

Lilac rolled her eyes which made him laugh.

“Fine, I'll do it. But you pick first.”

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

2:17 am

As they glided through the clear waters, Ethan had to admit he could see the appeal in the faux gondola ride. Even if it was romantic, the critical part of him dwelled on the fact that the canals of Venice did not smell strongly of chlorine. He almost voiced the cynical observation out loud, before he remembered this was her idea and the last thing he wanted was to offend her. Although, he was certain Lilac would only laugh and playfully shove him.

But Lilac was not taunting him, which should have been his first indication that something was off. She wasn't even marveling at the painted ceiling of the casino or making snide comments about the high end shops at the edge of the water and the people who shopped there. Instead, she pressed firmly against his side, her nails digging into his shirt.

“Are you okay?” he murmured.

Lilac plastered on the weakest attempt at a smile. Ethan only waited until she dropped the act and said, “Is it weird that the water is freaking me out?”

Ethan considered that. “Are you afraid of open water?”

Lilac shook her head. “No, or I would have never suggested this. But once we got in and started moving, the water just looked terrifying?”

Ethan gave her reassuring smile. “We can get off if you want.”

Again, she shook her head with a brave determination that made his stomach flutter. She was entirely too adorable, even without trying.

“No, I'll be fine,” she said through a steadying breath. “I'll just refrain from looking at the creepy water. And I'll try not to think about what we'll do if this thing flips over.”

“Rookie, the water is three feet deep. If we capsize we can just...get up on our feet.”

Lilac's eyes moved to meet his at the words. They stared at each other in the golden glow of their surroundings, their expressions unreadable. The silent seconds stretched until they both dissolved into hearty and borderline hysterical laughter.

Ethan tried his best to sober up first, but when he was close to regaining his composure, he would meet her eye and then they'd both continue to laugh relentlessly. He was aware that they were drawing curious looks from the people observing from the bridges. Even the gondolier cast them a questioning look but said nothing.

Ethan didn't care.

It was the happiest he had felt in weeks, amidst everything that had happened.

They finally sobered and Lilac sighed, much more at ease than before. When she settled against Ethan, it was with her hand softly pressed against his chest, directly over the heartbeat that pounded fiercely for her.

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

3:31 am

The plan had been to go dancing at the Egyptian themed casino, much to her companion's dismay. In the end, she won against his protest and Lilac was feeling particularly proud of herself for talking Ethan Ramsey into going to a nightclub. Then again, she hadn't missed how his eyes occasionally traveled along the expanse of her plunging neckline or how his fingers trailed along her exposed back whenever he held her. A lot of the credit was owed to the dress.

Which is probably why they never made it to the nightclub. Instead, they hastily detoured to the penthouse suite the leeches at Panacea paid for, their hands and lips on one another for the majority of the journey there.

Thirty minutes after ensuring they were truly alone, the miraculous dress lay pooled on her bedroom floor, completely forgotten. Meanwhile, Ethan moved against her in ways that made her scream out his name. As they both reached the peak, Lilac leaned in to whisper exactly what she wanted him to do.

With a grunt, Ethan obeyed wholeheartedly.

“Your turn,” she panted minutes later as she rolled off of him.

“As you wish,” he said, the words interrupted as he too struggled to catch his breath. “Although you know I prefer it when you take the lead.”

She laughed. “No, your turn to pick a place to go next.”

Ethan flipped on his side, offering her the sexiest grin. God, she was really thinking about sleeping with him again, mere minutes after the first round.

“I thought I picked this one,” he teased, his voice thick and heavy in ways that made her center pool with heat.

“We both picked this one,” she argued before she kissed him.

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

3:47 am

Ethan only pretended to consider their next destination. The truth was that he knew the answer since the moment she suggested it in front of the fountains.

They only had to leave the bed, a feat that was more challenging than it sounded.

Lilac, far more determined than Ethan, even got as far as slipping back into the lacy black underwear he had removed with his teeth earlier. The deliberately coy smile she sent his way when she realized he was staring, however, had his hands on her hips in seconds.

“Fucking hell, Lilac,” he murmured against her mouth as he pulled her on top of him for the second time that hour.

----------

4:59 am

After a third failed attempt to get out of bed, which resulted in both of them making good on the promises they made in their earlier texts, Lilac sat up in bed to look at him full on. She gave him what was supposed to be a stern, admonishing look, but she knew it was half hearted because he looked at her with such adoration that she broke a smile.

“No more distracting me. You're not getting out of picking, Ramsey.”

Ethan's eyes remained fixed on hers in the darkness of the room, his expression betraying no hints of amusement. Outside, the sky began to glow with the first rays of orange and pink, the promise of the sun's arrival setting the inky blue sky ablaze.

She frowned, noting the lines of exhaustion on his handsome face. “Are you tired? We can just stay if—”

“We're already here,” he said quietly. “The place I pick.”

“Bed?” she asked with a startled laugh. “Ethan Ramsey, you are almost a romantic.”

“Almost?” His mouth betrayed a hint of a smile. “I'm offended, Rookie. But no, as wonderful as we are in bed, that's not my choice.”

Ethan didn't elaborate, the small crease between his brows suggesting he was deep in thought. Every so often, his eyes flickered to hers, holding her gaze briefly before they moved away just as quickly.

“I'm not—” he started, stopped, and tried again. “I'm not good at this kind of thing.”

A slight flush colored his angled cheekbones, so endearing that she couldn't help but kiss him. In all honesty, she wasn't any better at any of it either, only suggesting the date idea as a clichéd way for them to spend time together in a faraway city. It hadn’t been her proudest moment but had Googled ideas the moment he said he was outside.

Nervous energy filled the room in their shared silence.

“The only place in the world I give a damn about is by your side, Lilac,” he said at last, the words quiet but powerful enough to make her pulse clamor like bells.

Ethan scratched the back of his head at her silence. “I was also hoping this goddamn penthouse had a balcony. I would've picked that as my date because of Miami and the first time we—”

Lilac interrupted him with a kiss, the force of it over balancing Ethan and sending him into the pillows. She didn't care that their kiss was unceremonious and far from romantic. All she was aware of was the growing, urgent need to kiss this cheesy, romantic, brilliant man. He laughed against her lips, strong hands steadying her on top of him.

“You're so much better at this than you give yourself credit for,” she informed him when they broke apart.

“Good,” he said, lifting his head to kiss the curve of her neck. “I was worried there was finally something I didn't excel at.”

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

A/N: Meanwhile, her friends are still partying somewhere on the Strip, begging Bryce to quit drinking while he’s ahead. Those fish bowl drinks are no joke.

Holy shit that was 3K of nothingness. If you made it this far, thank you!

This was loosely based on my experience(s) going to Vegas, although I don’t remember most of it. Again, those fish bowl drinks will destroy you lol.

Thank you to @aestheticartsx for your help with this mess!

P.S. Sorry about the dress in the pic not being the exact same one. I saw some that were close but the wrong color. Others were too crazy with that neckline. Ethan would’ve just dropped dead lol.

___________

New Tags: (Hope I didn’t miss anyone!)

@openheart12 , @takeharryandgo , @ethandaddyramsey, @trappedinfandoms, @aestheticartsx, @aworldoffandoms, @paulfwesley, @myusualnerdyself, @rookie-ramsey, @ohchoices, @colossalpainintheass, @enmchoices, @i-bloody-love-drake-walker, @choicesfanaf, @openheartthot, @octobereighth, @nazarihoe, @utterlyinevitable, @kites-in-our-skies, @maurine07, @schnitzelbutterfingers, @doilooklikeiknow, @snesdudes, @kingliam2019, @perriewinklenerdie, @cinnamonspongecake, @choicesstan1, @queencarb, @ethxnrxmsey, @missmiimiie, @jens-diamondchoices, @adamsdumortain, @mrsramseyy, @apphia12, @kalogh, @lucy-268, @binny1985, @queenbirbs, @honeyandsunfl0wers, @newcolonies, @lilyvalentine, @rigatonireid, @interobanginyourmom, @parkerattano, @custaroonie, @nikki-2406, @lilypills, @chasingrobbie, @nooruleman, @angela8756, @lonely-mxxnlight, @ruinedbypixels, @shadynaturehilariouscookie, @shadynaturehilariouscookie, @tsrookie, @mvalentine, @professorkingslay, @drakewalkerfantasy, @casey-v, @helloblueeyedcat, @mysticaurathings, @blossomanarchy, @thegreentwin, @togetherwearerapture, @rookieoh, @ramseysno1rookie, @rookiemarsswiftie, @natashajaniphil, @mysticalgalaxysstuff, @hatescapsicum, @choices-lurker, @kiara-36, @junehiratas, @danijimenezv, @macy-ray85, @adrex04, @canigetanawwjunk, @sanchita012, @overwhelminglyaquarius , @scorpiochick8, @skylarklyon, @starrystarrytrouble

Interest in this fic:

@udishaman, @a-crepusculo, @khayy19, @mercury84choices, @jlynn12273, @fireycookie

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #playchoices #my writing #ethan ramsey fanfiction #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfiction

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saijspellhart · 4 years ago

Note

15 thiefshipping please.

15. A fierce kiss that ends with a bite on the lip, soothing it with a lick. (Thiefshipping)

"Well?" Bakura gave his roommate a pointed look.

Malik tried his hardest to suppress a grimace, but only managed to press his lips together and wrinkle his nose. "What's in these cookies?"

"Cookie stuff! Obviously. Ryou showed me the recipe yesterday. He said it was so easy even I could make it."

Malik tried not to gag when he swallowed, failed, and moved the rest of the cookie under his tongue. "What's the recipe?"

"Butter, flour, sugar, eggs, vanilla," Bakura listed off, clearly getting impatient. "Normal cookie stuff. So how are they?"

"Are you sure you put sugar in them?" Malik shuddered again at the flavor still crawling over his tongue.

Bakura heaved a sigh and picked up a ceramic canister from the counter. "Sugar."

Malik squinted at the little faded label made out of masking tape. "It says salt."

The former Yami spun the container in his hand and glowered at the label, scrutinizing it like some secret coded message. "Fuck. So it does."

Malik took this opportunity to scrape his fingers over his tongue, and dig the rest of the cookie out of his mouth. "Why was I the first one to taste these anyway? Shouldn't it have been you?"

"I tasted them yesterday when Ryou made them. I thought they were good."

"Ryou didn't make them wrong!"

"So I suck at baking! Screw this!" He grabbed the plate and chucked the cookies into the garbage bin, plate included. "I try to do something nice..." the sentence trialed off in muttering that sounded more like swear words. Bakura folded his arms over his chest, practically throwing himself against the counter when he leant back against it.

Much to his distaste, Malik dug the plate out of the trash can. He gave his roommate a side-eye as he placed it into the sink.

"This is why I buy everything from the store," grumbled Bakura.

The soap suds squished between Malik's fingers as he washed his hands, watching the water splash around the clean and empty sink as he did so. It was only then that he took in the state of the kitchen... which to his surprise was oddly clean for a Bakura that just made a batch of salty cookies.

Come to think of it, there weren't even any dirty dishes in the sink from breakfast or lunch.

There was no way his lazy-ass roommate made cookies and washed all the dishes. Was there?

Suspiciously Malik's gaze darted over to Bakura himself. To his utter surprise Bakura was dusted in patches of flour. Bits on his shirt, on his arms, and even some on his face. There very well could have been flour in Bakura's hair too, but it blended in flawlessly with the natural white color caused by his albinism.

So, he really did bake cookies. He turned his attention back to the sink and the surrounding countertops. It wasn't perfect by any means, a little cluttery, and there were some crumbs under the toaster. But the sink was empty aside from the cookie plate, and the counters had been wiped down. He even cleaned the kitchen.

"Thank you," Malik said lowly as he finished rinsing off his hands.

"What?" Bakura spoke the word sharply with a little too much emphasis on the H.

"For cleaning the kitchen," Malik clarified, turning away from the sink and using the dish towel to dry off. "It was... thoughtful."

"Whatever," Bakura huffed and turned his face away.

Malik caught the tint of pink on his pale cheeks regardless. He strode across the kitchen and stopped in front of his roommate leaning in a bit as he grinned. "Teach me."

"Teach you what?" he snarled. "To make salty mistakes?"

"The cookies, Bakura, not your half-ass blowjobs. You said Ryou taught you the recipe, and I want to try them." Malik snagged an apron from a drawer nearby, and threw it over his head. It was a weird, white and pink, frilly thing that Bakura always sneered at but Malik liked it.

"Like hell I'm going through that again. I'll just fuck them up."

"Guess I'll have to make cookies by myself," Malik sniffed, wandering over to the cabinets to take out a mixing bowl. The first thing he grabbed was a pan for a bundt cake. After a blink he shrugged and set it on the counter, then he fished out a wire whisk. "I don't know any of the amounts."

When he collected eight eggs from the fridge, Bakura finally cringed. He heaved a long dramatic sigh before coming up behind Malik and tossing the bundt pan back into the cabinet. He tore down the mixing bowl he'd used earlier and placed it on the counter, then collected a rubber spatula from the utensil drawer.

"Was that so hard?" teased Malik.

"Yes." Bakura pulled out the large plastic container they kept flour in and began measuring it.

Malik watched him carefully, helpfully holding the glass mixing bowl in place while his roommate dumped the white powder in. "I honestly don't know how there is any flour left, you're wearing most of it."

The next cup of flour went right down the front of Malik's shirt.

"Son of a bitch, Bakura! What was that for?!"

The former Yami nonchalantly resumed the task at hand, smirking down at the mixing bowl. "I missed.”

Any attempt to brush the flour away only resulted in smearing more of the white powder over his brown skin, so Malik gave up. He watched Bakura put one more cup into the mixing bowl before asking, "is that the last one?"

"Yes. We need to mix the butter and sugar together in a separate-"

A sudden cascade of white plummeted down over Bakura's head before he could finish his sentence. It exploded into the air in thick clouds, dousing him in powder from hair to socked foot.

The Egyptian beside him stepped away clutching the now empty plastic flour container. A cheeky grin stretching from ear to ear.

For a long moment Bakura simply stood there, dusted like a pale ghost, chocolate brown eyes staring at the counter but focusing on nothing in particular. Malik's nasally chortling the only sound punctuating the moment.

Then the former Yami took a handful of the flour from the mixing bowl and hurled it into his roommate's stupidly laughing face.

Malik sputtered and coughed when a second handful came down on his head, Bakura smacking the flour into his hair.

"S-stop that!" he screeched, still trying to spit out mouthfuls of powder.

"Make me!"

Another fistful of flour almost made it into Malik's hair, but Bakura's socked foot slipped on the flour covered floor, and his flour-covered self ended up careening into Malik instead.

This sent the two men tumbling to the ground where they proceeded to roll around the floor, scooping up fistfuls of excess flour and trying to smear it onto the other. Hair, face, nose, eyes, down the shirts, and into the pants. Malik's foot kicked a cabinet, and Bakura's elbow smacked the linoleum, but neither of them let up.

That is until until Malik's hand came way to close to Bakura's mouth, and his teeth snapped down like a trap.

"You bit me!" Malik recoiled a white dusted arm, that now sported a neat wet teeth pattern amidst the powder on his palm.

Bakura bared his teeth and snapped them again, making a sharp clicking sound.

It was a challenge as much as it was a warning.

And Malik was just the sort of moron who would bait a shark and then go swimming with it. Or bite it back.

He pinned the white-haired male to the floor, difficult because Bakura fought him wildly, but not as difficult as it could be because Bakura was thinner, shorter, and lankier than him. And to anyone's surprise who saw Malik's body he was actually pretty toned. He definitely had more muscles than his roommate, and it came to his advantage in this moment.

He swooped in and clamped his own teeth on the flesh of Bakura's shoulder.

The man beneath him yelled—a strange yowling noise mixed with unintelligible protest—and flailed violently. The movement, coupled with the coating of flour, managed to dislodge Malik, but he swiftly dove in again and bit the next closest thing to his mouth.

That happened to be Bakura's cheek and jaw.

Bakura's socked feet kicked against the powdered linoleum, struggling to find purchase and leverage. He only managed to slip and rub awkwardly against the male above him. A strange noise choked out of Malik's throat that bordered on whimper, and his teeth slipped a bit. Bakura managed to get one hand loose, snagging a fist full of Malik's blonde hair, he ripped the other man off the side of his face. In the same motion he whipped his own head, and bit him in retaliation.

Right on Malik's upper lip.

Malik yelped. Bakura's teeth scraped. And their eyes connected briefly before they suddenly both jerked away.

"Y-you kissed me."

Bakura flinched like someone had taken a swing at him. "No I didn't."

Malik cocked his head and fixed him with a look of disbelief. "What would you call that then?"

"I bit you."

"On the lips!"

"On the mouth!" Bakura refuted.

If it were at all possible Malik's look became even more disbelieving. "It's the same thing." As if to prove his point, the man beneath him wasn't making eye contact.

"It's not."

"It is!"

Not one to back out of an argument, Malik dipped down to substantiate his claim. He pressed his lips flush against Bakura's, capturing the thief's startled mouth in a kiss.

He didn't react at first, unless Malik counted his whole body tensing up like a corpse in rigor mortis. The kiss wasn't long. His lips were soft against his, pliant and and tasting of raw flour. But this wasn't quite the point Malik was trying to prove. He nipped Bakura's bottom lip as he broke away, a lingering pinch of that soft flesh between teeth before he sat back and grinned in triumph.

Thirty seconds passed before the thief sucked in a ragged shuddering breath. "What the hell was that?"

Malik grinned, all white teeth and conceited superiority. "According to you it was a bite, you silly goose." He tapped the end of Bakura's sickly-pale nose with a powder-coated bronze finger.

Bakura's nose scrunched adorably. "Don't call me that."

"You s-ss—stupid bitch," Malik tried again.

Dark chocolate colored eyes narrowed under furrowed brows. He pointedly chose to ignore that and focus on something more important. "That was not a bite." Bakura broke from Malik's half-assed grip. "This is."

Before Malik could even open his mouth to protest, Bakura surged up, took two fistfuls of blonde hair and dragged the former tomb keeper into a fierce kiss that was just as painful as it was intense. They fell back into the pile of flour, a cloud of powder thrown into the air as lips and sharp canines smashed together, bruising and burning.

Nothing about the kiss was gentle or sweet, it was messy and vicious. Their teeth clacked, noses bumped, and Bakura seemed hell bent on shoving his tongue places that made static skitter down Malik's spine.

Despite it all, Malik kissed him back, matching the ferocity with just as much enthusiasm. He was still straddling the thief, bent forward with most of his weight settled on his elbows. Bakura's wild mane of white hair was spread out like a lion's mane around his head, and Malik couldn't resist curling his fingers in the unkempt tresses.

But all too soon the kiss ended, concluded when Bakura's teeth bit down on Malik's lip hard enough to draw blood. Malik hissed, and jerked away from the swipe of Bakura's tongue before it could draw over the wound.

"Shit, what was that for?!" He sat back, wiping a hand over his bloodied lip. He'd barely settled on Bakura's lap for a second when he yelped like a wounded dog and shot off of him and into the kitchen cabinets.

"That's how you bite someone," the thief sneered haughtily. He attempted to hop to his feet in a swift movement, but his socks slipped, and he went crashing down into the flour covered linoleum again, sending a cloud into the air around him.

Malik snorted, coughed, and would have laughed but his eyes were glued on the obvious tent in his roommate's pants.

His attempt at an exit failed, Bakura slapped a hand over his crotch and snarled, "Fuck you, don't look at me."

"I can't believe you kissed me," Malik said as he used the counter to pull himself up onto shaky legs. He cast another look at the flushed man on the floor then added, "and liked it."

"Don't flatter yourself," snapped Bakura. "It's not like it was pleasant. You tasted like salt!"

"Only because I ate your shitty cookie!"

"Because of you we can't make any cookies at all!" Bakura shot back just as defensively. He threw a handful of the ruined flour for emphasis.

"Why the hell were you making cookies to begin with!?" Malik refused to turn away from the counter and opting to yell over his shoulder.

The entire room fell silent.

What seemed like an uncomfortable eternity passed and he chanced looking back at the thief.

Bakura had his face turned away, cheeks scarlet despite the dusting of white, and jaw set like a vice.

"Bakura?"

The former Yami surged to his feet once more. This time succeeding. "I was making them for you," he growled so lowly before storming from the room.

~0000~

How was that, handsome? Hope ya like it. I used a quote from one of our conversations in here. ;3

Thanks for sending me the ask. You’re the best and I love you. 😘

#yugioh #thiefshipping #Marik ishtar #Yami bakura #Malik ishtar #Bakura #yugioh duel monsters #ygo dm #saijspellhart answers #saijspellhart writes #ask answers #fanfic #fanfiction #kiss prompts #kiss meme #prompt drabble

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wulfies-kpop-fanfics · 4 years ago

Text

One Photo → Mark Lee [3]

↳ Pairing: Mark Lee/Reader

↳ AU: Soulmate!AU - The first touch of two soulmates permanently scars their bodies.

↳ Word count: 3,063

↳ Chapters: Prelude | 1 | 2 | You Are Here! | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

⁙ Summary: For an end of the year photography project, you’re tasked with taking a photograph for your favourite group, NCT127, and coincidentally, discover your soulmate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WEDNESDAY - 3

The sun is shining brightly through your window when the morning stirs you awake. The curtains of your room are wide open, and just outside you can hear the songs of two birds in the near distance. Groaning, you wonder how you managed to get in bed, swearing that you had just been watching Infinity War with Mark.

You slip out from under your covers, grabbing and putting on your glasses that were set neatly on your desk. You realize once you stand that you're also fully clad in soft pyjamas. Confused, you wander out of your room and out to the living area.

“Rhi?” your meek call into the kitchen and living room was met with silence. Holding your sides in a sort of self-hug, you wandered into the kitchen and looked at the stove time. It was around 10:30, and your class alarms never went off, so today must be a day where Rhiannon had class and you didn't.

Your thoughts put together what happened after you fell asleep in the moments after your fatigue was washed away in the shower, and you spend the rest of your morning poking at a bowl of cereal. Your days off usually meant staying in your pyjamas all day, playing Overwatch on the PlayStation you brought to your dorm from home or trying to take photos of dust particles if it was sunny enough.

You didn't know whether to feel alone or content in the first moments of your day. Time passed as it always did, taunting you with anxiety and making you worry about not getting anything done. It eventually compels you to start cleaning, ticking off little boxes on the chore chart attached to your fridge. You're not sure how long you've been absorbed in sweeping the floors, but eventually, you're brought back from absent daydreams because of a gentle knock on the door.

“One moment!” you call out, putting the broom back where it belongs and smoothing out your hair. You lick your lips and approach the door, opening it and looking straight into the face of Mark.

“Hi, (Y/N),” he greets you cheerfully, gingerly holding out a small bouquet of flowers out to you.

“Hi,” you answer softly, clearly surprised that he's there. “Thank you…”

“Rhiannon gave me a code to sign into the building as a guest,” he explains, “I want to take you out on a date if that's okay.”

Gingerly you take the flowers, a mix of tulips, sunflowers and roses. You smile up at him, a little embarrassed that you're not completely decent in front of him. “I'd like that, but…”

Mark raised his eyebrows. “But?” he repeated.

“I'm, uh… I need to get ready.”

Mark looks you up and down, and his face goes red. He smiles awkwardly at you and nods. “Okay, I can wait.”

“Okay. Make yourself at home and I'll get ready,” Mark follows you inside and watches you put the bouquet in a large glass that you fill with water. “I'll be right back.”

You stare at yourself in your full-length mirror for a while as soon as you close the door to your room. After taking off your pyjamas, the scar on your body stands out. You're definitely not used to seeing it, and you're feeling a little worried that it will draw more attention to you than you want.

Once you remember that Mark is waiting for you, you choose a pair of blue jeans and a loose pink top. Smoothing out your clothes, you stare at yourself. You haven't been on a date since high school, and after that date, your crush stopped talking to you- he believed too much in only dating the one you were made for, and it broke your heart.

“You can do this,” you told yourself. “He likes you. He's your soulmate. It's fine, you're fine. It's fine, we're all fine. Don't freak out." you took in a deep breath, making your way back out.

Mark was sitting politely on your couch, and once he noticed you were back, he immediately stood, smiling. “You look great,” he said, approaching you.

You felt a twinge in your chest and you felt your cheeks get red. “So do you,” you manage to mumble, watching as his smile grew wider.

“Are you ready?” he asked, holding out his hand for you to take.

“Yeah,” you gently took his hand, and after you got your shoes on and grabbed your little drawstring backpack, the two of you stepped out and began your day.

It almost felt like a dream, walking and talking with Mark. The two of you got ice cream together and sat in a small park, feeling the cool dew of morning turn into the sunny warmth of the afternoon.

“Have you ever been on a date?” Mark asked as the two of you were walking through a crosswalk to Union Station.

“One,” you answer. “Back in High School before I left home. I really liked him, but I knew we weren't going to be soulmates. It was when I wanted to be rid of the soulmate trope once and for all- live life scar-free, y'know?”

Mark frowned at you for a moment but then nodded for you to continue. He leads you into the building and toward the escalator that went down into the station.

“He took me out, bought me dinner and we had a good time. He took me home that night and he touched my shoulder… it was the first time he and I had physical contact. The next day at school we were both scar-free, and he told me that he didn't want to see me in that way anymore.” you half-smiled at Mark, tightening your grip on his hand.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “You won't have to deal with that anymore, I promise.”

“How about you?" You almost felt afraid to ask him, a twinge in your chest affirming that you may not even want to know his answer.

He smiled. "Not really, no, unless you count Johnny taking me out for dinner when he debuted with 127."

You raised your eyebrows. "Really? You're so good looking, though." Wind rushed through your hair as you both went down the stairs into the main station, the subway car you were to board whizzing through into the station.

Mark blushed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. "I didn't have the time. I was too busy thinking about my dream and my career. But now that I do have some time, I really am happy I found you."

You both climbed onto the subway car, Mark holding you close as the busy subway filled up. He was smiling cheerfully at you, red still dusting his cheeks. You returned the look, wondering how you could have gotten so lucky.

The two of you saw Avengers together at the Yorkdale mall. Of course, you cried, trying your best and failing to keep your sniffling silent. Mark took your hand in the dark of the theatre and squeezed it gently, making your heart flutter and your lips quiver.

You both decided to shop around after the film finished, sharing an enormous poutine in the food court once Mark's stomach began to audibly rumble. Mark was wolfing down the food at a breakneck pace, making you giggle at him once he managed to get gravy on his cheek.

"Slow down," you laughed, reaching over the table to wipe his cheek with a napkin. "Next thing you know you'll get it on your shirt."

Mark paused for a moment, a little surprised at the touch. "Not like I have a photoshoot later," he joked. "It's been years since I've had poutine."

You licked your lips. "Maybe, um, I would like to take pictures later?"

Mark's eyes widened. "Really?"

You nodded and smiled sheepishly, taking a bite of your fries before you missed your chance. "Just to make sure it's all real."

"(Y/N)," your name left Mark's lips, sounding like sweet sugar and honey. It sent shivers down your spine. "I can promise it's all real, but if you want, we can take some."

"Wow," you sighed, examining Mark's face. He was already so picturesque, no makeup, no hairspray or crazy visual design. He finished off the fries, another blob of gravy somehow made it onto his cheek, which made your eyes travel to stop at his lips. You licked your own, not even catching yourself thinking about what it would be like to kiss him.

Mark stared back at you, resting his head on the palm of his hand. "How long have you been thinking about taking pictures?"

You perked up and managed to make eye contact with him. "In general or just of you?" You asked shyly, tapping the corner of your lips with your finger. "You have more gravy on you."

Mark laughed bashfully and wiped his face with a napkin. "Uh, both, I suppose."

"I've loved taking pictures since I was a kid. I didn't know I wanted to do it as a living until I started to take pictures of nature with my phone camera. After that day in the forest with my grandparents, I knew I had to drop out of my biology courses and go into photography instead."

Mark nodded as he listened. "That's really admirable," he said, making you blush again. He stood, gathering up the tray and tilting his head as a gesture to join him.

You cleared your throat and continued with a shy smile, "I, um, just really want to take pictures of things I like, and… uh, you have always been one of them."

Mark put away the tray and took your hand, "there's no need to be embarrassed about it," he laughed quietly, "I like you too."

You felt at home with Mark, warm and happy. Your heart fluttered more and more when he looked at you, smiled, or talked with you. At random times you'd want to take a picture, he'd stop and pose for you. Whether it was silly, romantic or a chic fashion-style photo in the subway station on your way home that evening, he did it for you.

The camera you kept with you in your little drawstring bag was now full of photos, ready to be manipulated (not that you really had much to touch up anyway) and saved to your computer. Perhaps you would frame your favourite one.

The night rolled over you both like it had when you first spent the day together, which was only a few days ago, but it felt like a lifetime. The roads of Toronto were quieting down and the street lights were beginning to bathe the walkways in a soft amber glow. When you returned to your building, you didn't want to go in.

"We should both rest," Mark insisted when you clung to him in a hug. "Big day tomorrow." He still wrapped his arms around you and pressed his cheek against your head gently.

"What?" You looked up at Mark, confused. He leant back enough so he could look at you, a smile dancing on his lips.

"The guys want to take that one photo tomorrow. In the park with all the cherry blossom trees. I knew it was the place I wanted the night you took me there. You kept staring off in the distance, and once I figured out why, I wouldn't even consider any other place you would suggest if I had asked."

"Mark-"

"Don't be embarrassed," he assured you quickly. "I really like that about you."

"Well, I…" you were trying to avoid eye contact with Mark, not quite able to handle the compliments. "I'm looking forward to tomorrow," you say quietly, pouting, "but I still don't want you to go."

"I promise that after it's done, we will spend the entire day together, okay?" Mark placed a finger under your chin gently. "Sound like a plan?"

You couldn't hold your pout while making direct eye contact, so it melted away into a reluctant smile. "Okay."

The two of you went inside, walking down the hallway together toward the door to your apartment. When you arrived, you held both of Mark's hands. "Text me when you get back safely, okay?"

He squeezed your hands gently. "I will. I'd like to do one more thing, though, if it's okay with you."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Like what?"

Your heart began beating wildly in your chest when he smiled at you. Mark was such a wonderful person. On the surface, he was confident and funny, but below that was a shy and quiet nature, that knew what he wanted but didn't quite know how to get there. His hands left yours and instead cupped your cheeks.

"This," his voice hit your ears so softly that you almost didn't hear it. Once he leant toward you, you caught on. With your heartbeat audible in your ears and your stomach doing acrobatics, your lips met.

It was chaste, borderline experimental, soft and nervous. When he separated from you, he rested his forehead against yours for a moment. "I thought about doing that all last night," he admitted.

"Do you really expect me to let you leave now?" Your question came out with a quiet laugh, almost letting yourself get carried away when Mark's hands left your cheeks.

"I expect you to be reluctant, but I really do need to go," he's smiling sadly at you, "I just had to know what it was like before I left."

"You owe me," grabbing his hand for one last moment before he turned to leave.

"I'll pay you in full," he said with a grin. "I promise."

"Be safe."

"I promise. I'll text you!" With that, he was gone.

You nearly screamed the moment you heard the large doors to the building click shut. You had just kissed him. Mark Lee kissed you. Taking in a deep, shaking breath, you dug into your backpack and shakily grabbed your keys to unlock the door to your apartment. As you were opening the door, you felt resistance for half a second and heard quick scrambling on the other side for another half a second when you pushed your way inside.

The first thing your eyes met once you walked inside was none other than your best friend.

"Sorry," she said bashfully, hands behind her back. "I, uh, wasn't expecting to get caught."

You rolled your eyes, grinning at her. "Are you apologizing because you were spying on me through the peephole or because you got caught?" You raised an eyebrow playfully at her.

"Look, we both know which one it is, so I'd rather not make myself look much worse."

With that you both are laughing, Rhiannon takes your bag for you and hung it up on the small coat rack while you took off your shoes.

"I've been texting Haechan; or should I say Donghyuck now..." she said as the two of you sat together in the kitchen, Rhiannon applying a face mask to your skin. She was already wearing hers, perfectly attached. "He's been helping me with my Korean grammar, which according to him is quote-unquote atrocious," she says, patting your face gently before taking her seat again and leaning back.

"Well, you've never had a proper teacher," you remark. "It's incredible you can keep studying it with all the dental stuff you have to do. I can't even keep my studies up and I have less of a school workload than you."

"Sometimes I think you're just lazy," she said teasingly. "Considering you just made me put a face mask on for you."

"Don't hate, you know I can never get these stupid things on right. Anyway, I was gonna ask you if you wanted to come to the boys' shoot tomorrow. You can show off your vocab in person, your spoken is way better than your texting." You looked over at her, watching her frown beneath the moisturizer mask.

"But I have a lab tomorrow,"

"Well, how about you meet us then? High Park, in the cherry blossom area where you like to people-watch while I take photos."

Rhiannon hummed. "If you wait for me, yeah. I'll pack an outfit in my bag to change into after."

You smiled. "Good, I wouldn't want to miss watching you meet Haechan in person."

"Like I'd ever let you miss that. Unlike you, who went to meet Mark, Johnny and Jaehyun without me."

"Hey," you whine, "you knew I had no idea they were gonna be there."

"Yeah yeah, make up all the excuses you want."

After your masks came off, you washed your face and changed into your pyjamas. Slipping under the covers, you checked your phone. There was a text from Mark, which you probably got while you were doing masks with Rhiannon.

Mark: I'm back safe

Mark: I really can't stop thinking about it

You: I'm happy you're safe, sorry I couldn't reply, was doing face masks

You: I can't either

Mark: It's ok

Mark: I'm getting ready for bed, all the guys are pumped for tomorrow, and the concert is getting closer

You: are you nervous?

Mark: A little, but I will be less so knowing you're going to be in the front row

You: I'm thankful I can be so close, I've never been in the front row of a concert before

Mark: itll be loud, bring earplugs

You: kay, I will be able to hear still right?

Mark: oh yeah, for sure hahah

Mark: It gets super loud, I don't want your hearing to get hurt

You: thank you for worrying about me

Mark: always :)

Mark: We will meet you around 11:30 in the park along the path where you and I walked

Mark: See you tomorrow, we should probably sleep

You: Okay, I'll see you

You: Good night Mark

Mark: nighty night (Y/N) <3 :)

You: <3

You were barely able to put your phone down to go to sleep. The day was constantly running through your head, especially your first kiss. Your heart fluttered, your stomach flipped, and you felt like you could squirm under the covers of your bed enough to tie yourself up in blankets.

When you finally managed to drift off, your dreams were entirely of what the future could hold.

#mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark x reader #nct #nct127 #nctu #nct scenarios #nct imagines #reader insert #fanfiction #kpop fanfictions #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines

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