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#are they admiring his handiwork with his chest plate?
bibereangelum · 2 years
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batman has such bodacious honka honkas i think gotham should have a meme page dedicated to them
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brewed-pangolin · 3 months
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I love to cook. It's stupid. I hate it sometimes because I feel like I fall into the stereotypical cliché of women in the kitchen. But I can't help it. I just love to cook.
-
And you love to cook for him.
Especially when he comes home looking malnourished and gaunt from yet another lengthy deployment.
You make him his favorite dishes. Bake the most delicious pies. Spoil him with lavish flavors and recipes he's never even heard of as he devours every last morsel you plate in front of him.
And it doesn't take long to see the fruit of your labors slowly beginning to appear.
A soft lining of fat growing just beneath his skin. Accentuating the contours of his musculature as he walks around the halls of your home in nothing but his sweatpants and a ratted t-shirt.
Yet your favorite arrives a few weeks later when you gaze upon him in the soft morning light.
It's faint. Small, compared to the deep the curves and divots of his abdomen and nestled between the defined plateau of Adonis belt.
A soft pillow of fat, showcasing your efforts to plump him while on leave in preparation for his next venture over seas.
You lean over. Slowly. Gently as to not wake him as you caress his flesh with your lips, peppering him with tender kisses as he ever so slowly pulls himself from deep slumber.
"What'ya doin, hen?" Soap asks, voice wrapped in sleep and eyes barely fluttering open.
You hum against him in response at first. Pursing your lips to place a few more sacred kisses across his lower stomach.
"Just admiring my handiwork."
"Aye. Ya do know how t'fatten me up, lass."
You part your lips against him, pulling the faintest growl from his chest as you lightly bite down on his supple flesh.
"What you want for breakfast, Johnny?" You asked, tongue lightly lapping against his skin. "Steak and eggs? Belgian waffles? English breakfast?"
"Hm. Steak and eggs sounds good." He replies with a throaty groan. Hand finding the back of your head as he ruffles your hair with his thick fingers.
"But I got somethin ya might want to try first." He adds with a wicked smirk curling into his lips.
"Yeah. What's that?"
"Got a Lorne sausage callin yer name, bonnie. Maybe try takin that on first before moving to th'main course, yeah?"
Drabbles Masterlist
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rheiple · 4 months
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He's Super Shy, Super Shy
-OneShot
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▪︎SUMMARY↦ You’d think he’s avoiding you, but if he is then why is he watching you?
▪︎WARNING/s↦ None
▪︎CHARACTER/s↦ Moon, Reader, lil bits of Sun
▪︎WORD COUNT↦ 1769
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▪︎AUTHOR'S NOTE↦ This Fic is inspired by the song called “Talk to you” by Ricky Montgomery. You should check out his other songs to, it’s such a banger!!
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There he goes again, leaving him to talk to you.
Moon, as quiet as a mouse, lifted himself up with his trusty hook and stayed at the ceiling. He observed how his Sunny counter part keeps chatting your ears off. You don’t seem to mind though, even butting in sometimes to speak out your thoughts.
He lets out a quiet sigh. He admires Sun, being able to socialize with anyone, and everyone liking his extroverted personality. He may be a clean freak, but he’s also very creative. Having no trouble to talk to anyone with anything on his mechanical mind. He likes that.
He also wished he had that ability.
At first, he didn’t really care. He had no one to talk to besides his other half. Almost everyone is scared to talk to him, much less even be in his presence. It stings, but just a little bit. It’s not like socializing is a necessity anyways.
His ruby eyes scanned your unique features. Unintentionally saving every detail to his data bank.
You… You make it seem like a need.
He noticed that your quite a chatter box whenever you “talk" to him during his repairs. The first time he met you. When he accidentally fell really high up, because his cable snapped. He had to shut down his body to save some energy. However he could still hear whatever's happening to his surroundings. He could also feel sensations, able to identify something that touched him. He felt like he had what you humans call a ‘coma’.
At first he was angered at being rough handled by a bunch of sweaty, and possibly grimy old hands. Getting strapped at what he knows is the cylinder repair station. He heard them talking, more so complaining about their job. But then they eventually got out.
It was silent for a moment, until a sound of someone entering the chamber ruined the quietness.
He didn’t expected to have gentle hands cupping his face.
He surprised himself that he welcomed the feeling of their soft and warm palms.
“Oh you poor guy. I’ll get you fixed in no time!”
He wanted to follow their hands again. He heard clicks and clanks of tools they needed to use. He felt their hands on his chest plate, opening up his case to replace it.
He didn’t really knew what happened after that. Floating in and out of consciousness because he was almost out of energy. He wanted to save up just so he could at least see you and maybe meet you again sometime. He could only bask in to your careful touch.
Time flies so fast he noticed. He was instantly greeted with darkness when he gained control on his body. He looks at the human responsible of fixing him.
….Hmm, how peculiar.
He’d never seem you before, are you perhaps a new hire? He doesn’t have your information yet. Are you only a mechanic that they called in?
He gave his face plate a little spin. And he sees you grinning triumphantly at the action. With your hands on your hips and your chest puffed up, you proudly boasted about your handiwork. You introduced yourself to him. Funny human. Why bother telling him your name, isn’t he just a bot to you? You even held out your hand for him to shake.
You’re strange. But he likes it for some reason. Maybe it’s because he is also weird.
He amused you by shaking your hand, and telling you his name.
“Moon huh? Classic name.”
“..Thank you..”
A ringtone emits from your best pocket. He turned his face plate upside down.
He waited for you to bid your goodbye to someone on the phone. And you looked at him with a smile. “Well Moon, you’re good to go! You’re cable is already getting worked on. I hope to see you around!”
He watched you left him for the outside.
He needed to know, after encountering you he waited and waited, hoped even to get to meet you again. Every time you enter this Plex he observed you during his free time. He wanted to know if you remembered what you told him. But did you even remembered him? He hoped so.
There are times you take a glance inside the Daycare. And he would be also there, but he’s hiding from you instead of approaching you, like what his brother self is doing.
He doesn’t understand himself. Why is he hesitant on approaching you? Is it because he’s afraid? Of what exactly, you’re the one who had the guts to act casual with him on your first meeting. So why?
Now that he thought hard about it, he… Didn’t know what to say if he were to come up at you. He doesn’t think you’d appreciate it if he just, stared at you. What do people say to start conversations? How’s the weather down there? Real nice.
He decided, it’d be much better to just admire you from afar like right now to save the both of you from his awkwardness.
He looks at Sun with a slight frown. While he admired his alter self, he also couldn’t help but envy him at the same time. He was given the ability to be a natural talker, he wished that they could’ve just have the same personality chip, so instead of watching the two of you he’d be also there at the table. Chatting along with you two.
He saw you bidding farewell, the other doing at same, but with a hug. His hands twitched, wanting to hug you like he did.
The solar animatronic went to the Daycare, and the lunar bot followed suit.
Upon opening the Daycare doors, He called out to him to come down the ceiling. He obliged as they noticed that the Daycare is in a messy state.
He focused on wiping down the kiddie tables with a clean wet range while he stacked up those big cylinder blocks. “So… when are ya stop acting like creep and start talking to them like a normal person?”
Moon clicked his tongue in annoyance. “I don’t appreciate being insulted.”
“Oh c'mon! But you know it’s true! Aren’t you tired of waiting for them to come up to you to talk to you? Make the first move! All you have to do is greet them, ask how they’ve been, and then ask about whatever you want to know about them. It’s easy as one, two, three – even a toddler would be able to follow!”
He grumbled, tucking in the chair. “Not as easy as you think it is…”
Sun lets out a tired sigh. “I could help you by introducing you to them, but then I’ll leave you two be. I’ll watch over you two from afar, to coach you up if you think you need help! How does that sound Moonie?”
The moon lets out a thoughtful hum. He, wasn’t sure if he’ll be able to do well. But he supposes it’s better than just watching. Going out of his comfort zone doesn’t sound so bad if it means being able to be friends with you.
He decided, rather than letting fate decide he’ll control it, just to meet you soon.
.
.
.
He can’t do it.
He’ll just let fate decide when you two could meet again, he wouldn’t mind waiting for years to happen. He’s a patient bot, he has the patience of a saint just for you.
He could feel the force from his back, that force being Sun trying to push him towards you. Who’s currently eating at one of the benches at the cafeteria.
Sun grunted in annoyance. “hngg, it’s now or never Moonie. Just go talk to them already!”
He pushed himself back just as harder. “You told me you’ll introduce me to them!...” He whispered yelled.
“I have to go help Vanessa- to-to locate a lost kid at arcade!”
“..Let’s switch..”
With all his might, he put all of his energy into pushing him. ”No!..Yo-you go talk to them..now!”
You saw him walking towards you. Well, it wasn’t really walking, it’s like someone pushed him towards you. You didn’t see who it was, but you guessed it was another animatronic. There’s no way a human would be able to push him that hard.
He sees your eye widen. “Moon was it? Good day to you.”
The tall animatronic fiddled with his hat.
“..Likewise..”
There was a pause for a moment, but you broke it by asking if he wanted to take a seat beside you. He seemed so nervous. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t found it cute. He took a seat beside you and you began eating your lunch.
…It was quiet, yet you didn’t mind. You didn’t want to talk while your mouth was full. Moon however, seem to be on edge with the silence. You asked him if he’s alright, and he said he was fine. His tense slowly faded away as time passed.
He only waited for you to finish your food. When you bit off the last bits of your lunch, you went to drink fizzy faz you bought earlier. Seeing this as the right time, he asked you how your day went, and you responded well. You asked his day was going and he replied the same thing.
You asked him how his job is being a daycare attendant, and he replied with honesty. Telling you how most of the time it was ok, but the rest of the time it was very difficult.
As time went on, he noticed that you were taking the lead of the conversation. Did you noticed that he was nervous talking to you? You don’t seem to mind his quiet nature. He feels relaxed just by just being the listener between the two of you.
He made a witty comment on your story, and his circuits heated up when you laughed in joy. “Haha! I didn’t know you had that in ya Moonie!”
He too didn’t know. But he knows it’s because of you. He made you laugh, it was so pretty. It’s like having the same feeling of a fan hearing their favorite singer sing. Is this what Sun felt when he makes everyone around them smile brightly? He wanted this to last.
Seeing you and him chatting away, Sun puffed his chest out in pride. “Ugh!...Finally, now that wasn’t so hard now was it?”
Vanessa called for his assistance with carrying two big loaded carts. She asked him what was he talking about.
“Oh nothin’! Just cheering on a fool in love!”
“...Right.”
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moodymisty · 1 year
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Hi hello there! First of all, congratulations on the milestone, it's a hell of one to clear 🎊🎉 I hope you are proud of yourself for it (you should!), because it's an awesome achievement, and you're awesome for hitting it 😌
Now, if I'm not too late for the party, could I place a request? You see, I'm a Delta Squad girlie first and human being second, so if you could write for any of them glowy face darlings (esp Boss or Sev!) I'd like, be forever grateful 🥺🥺
Delta boy + "You look so hot when you do that", with Reader skilfully performing a task and he goes like 👀👀👀 new kink unlocked: competence
I hope this ask finds you well, and that you remember to sip water and do some stretching!
(@clone-a-palooza)
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❀ from my 1k followers event ❀
Author's Note: DELTA BOYZ DELTA BOYZ I have a 4k+ Sev fic i'm working on in at the moment, so how about we give our boy Scorch's discostick a ride? I hope that's ok? I know you mentioned all of them, but highlighted Sev and Boss if not feel free to tell me and I'll cook something else up
Relationships: Scorch/Gn!Reader
Warnings: Lewd but not nsfw, Flirting, Scorch is down bad, a hint at Scorch being a bit of a masochist but very tame and could be easily taken as a joke but I figured I'd warn anyways, being a bit reckless with weapon handling, Messy kisses <3
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"Nice headphones."
Scorch watches you turn to look over your shoulder, glancing him up and down in one overexaggerated motion.
"Nice bucket."
One of the best things about Scorch is how easy it is to tell how he's feeling by his body language- even with his 'bucket' on. His shoulders rise and fall along with his chest, as he lets out a silent laugh.
The last group of troopers left the range a bit ago, as it's getting late enough that many of them need to get some rest before getting deployed. You and Scorch only just got here however, having sneaked off away from the rest of the Deltas to have some fun on your own.
As much as Scorch loves making things go boom, he seems to be more interested in watching you do so at the moment, leaning back against the wall behind you and watching with crossed arms as you look back at him.
"I've only done this a few times, so don't roast me." Scorch shakes his head and lazily gestures outward to the air surrounding him.
“That was such a poor choice in wording, pudding pop.”
You just roll your eyes, looking away from him and back towards the range, blaster in your hands. There's a target plate at the far end of the range, as far back as you can send it. Any closer felt a bit too, easy.
You can feel eyes on your back as you take aim, watching down the lane as you steady your hands a take a breath.
'BANG' In the center.
'BANG' In the center again.
'BANG' And again.
Each shot lands exactly where you want it in the center of the target time after time, all forming a near perfect cluster.
So maybe you weren't as rusty as you thought you would be, leaning away from the sights a bit to look down at your handiwork.
Hmm, not bad.
Leaning back into position, you take a few more shots, up until you feel the blasting getting noticeably hot. Only then do you stop, admiring your work again before throwing a quick glance over your shoulder to look at Scorch. He seems, more than a little surprised; And you remember you've never actually told him you weren't half bad with a blaster.
"Scorch?" Your eyebrows raise, looking at him as he eyes the target plate for a moment before his brown eyes go right back to you. He's walking towards you now- and quickly- brushing a hand along the curls of his hair with one hand.
"Fuck. You look so hot when you do that. Holy shit."
Having already torn off his helmet moments ago Scorch's jaw is effectively dropped, swallowing hard enough that you see the knot of his throat noticeably bob.
"You gotta- holy shit, can you pistol whip me?" You gasp as you laugh, back to the range as you look at him.
"Scorch! I am not going to hit you!" He steps forward even more, pressing the middle of your back against the table where the blaster case lays, as his body almost squishes you. His hands slide down to cup your ass as his lips crash with yours, almost bending you backwards. Your hands float awkwardly in the air, the wrist you're holding the blaster with going limp outward. His teeth scrape over your bottom lip, pulling as you try to speak again.
"Hey! We're in public anyone could see and- and let me put the blaster down!" He doesn't seem to listen to you, apart from blindly reaching for your wrist, taking the blaster from your hand and sitting back in the case once he flicks on the safely. How he can do that all blind, you can't hazard a guess. The whole time his lips never leave yours, feeling the way his hips press against your stomach. You feel like he's going to squish you, but you wouldn't want to be anywhere else.
"Can," He stops his sloppy, passionate kiss, only to let you speak a few words. "Can we at least take this somewhere else?"
"I ain't exactly patient right now, you gotta think fast." His hands keep pawing at you, cupping your hips and ass and keeping you against him.
"The refresher at the end of the hall?" Scorch allows you to stand fully upright, but his lips barely leave yours.
"Refresher works."
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prince-toffee · 7 months
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Pest Control
“How’s that?” Blaze asked Marine as the fire Princess duct taped another pillow to the small raccoon’s chest. Blaze stood up to briefly admire her handiwork. Marine was dawned in a makeshift homemade suit of armour. A pillow taped to her chest and one to her back. A cooking pot on her head like a knight’s helmet. Kitchen mittens on her hands reaching up to her elbows. And two teddy bears taped to her knees covering her legs. To top it all off she was wielding a wooden steering spoon in one of her hands, gripping it as if it was a sword and her life depended on it. Marine wore a pouty frown on her face, eyes narrowed, every muscle on her face tense. Blaze supported her chin up with a palm as she very uncharacteristically tilted her head to the side and ‘aww’ed at the cute raccoon. She didn't often show this side of her for the troublemaker, usually maintaining her cold and calculated exterior, but something about seeing the young raccoon in her first battle armour set her heart aflutter.
“Enough gawkin’, lady! Let's tenderise that thing!” Marine cried a war cry, ready to go to war with what they had found in the castle kitchen.
“Not like that.” Blaze replied, she took the wooden spoon and flung it behind her and instead handed the raccoon a meat cleaver, “There we go. Off we go.” Marine marched onward almost hopping with each step. Just then a beep sounded from Blaze’s wrist communicator, the watch-like device flickered blue. She tapped the touchscreen opening a channel with the caller on the other side. A green holographic image of Silver appeared, she couldn’t see below his torso, but she could tell that he was running, “Hey! What's up!? Sorry I missed your call I was being hunted by WereChaos monsters. What's up?”
“Nice to see you too. You're not busy, are you? Right now?
“Uhhhhhh, yeah... yeah I'm okay, I can talk.”
Blaze walked up to the kitchen door taking a spot next to Marine. They both poked their heads past the door frame looking into the kitchen. “Well, would you know what that is?” Blaze asked as she extended her arm, positioning Silver in a way that allowed him to see what was happening in the kitchen. Plates, utensils, cabinet doors were all being flung around. A bowl flew through Silver’s holographic head.
“Huh.” He responded. What he beheld was a massive bug-like creature rummaging through the kitchen’s fridge and cabinets, madly consuming all the food it could find. The bug had a hard dark blue exo-skeleton shell, six sharp legs, a beetle like horn, bright neon green glowing eyes, and the mouth akin to that of a snapping turtle. And most importantly a neon green underbelly, with green markings running across its body.
“So?! The heck is that!?” Marine exclaimed.
“We figured you'd know something about this... creature.” Blaze remarked as she ducked out of the way of an incoming wooden stool.
“Why is that?” Silver shrugged. The bug roared, the neon markings lit up and the Spring outside the kitchen window was now a harsh Winter. Time had shifted forwards. Or backwards? “Ah, I see.”
“This ugo look familiar?” The raccoon asked.
“Yeah, the reception isn't great,” the hologram glitched as he leaned into his wrist communicator squinting, “But that looks like a Continuuasite, that’s continuum and parasite combined into one word.” He cheerfully remarked. As Silver turned back to the cat and raccoon he noticed they were now wearing Christmas clothes.
“Yes, very clever Silvy.” Blaze remarked unamused, “How bad is it?”
“Well, judging by the markings it seems to be a meta-class; It's a narrative-eater, it feeds on narrative plot points, so there is a ticking clock right now.”
“Silvy, I won't pretend to understand your time travel jibber jabber, I'll just assume it's bad. How long until you get here?” The cat asked.
“It'll be a while, I'm three timelines away.” He paused, considering his words, “You'll have to deal with this on your own.”
“What!? No! No! No! Silver, I can't do this! This isn't my realm of expertise, what if we misstep and all of time and space implodes?!”
“Calm down, breathe, in and out. Don't worry. You can do this, Blazey. I'll guide you through the whole process. You'll do great.”
“A-- Are you sure?”
“Absolutely! You can do anything! And I'll stay on the line the whole ti--“ Silver’s image froze. The whole graphic showed it was losing Wi-Fi bars.
“Silver? Silver! SILVER THE HEDGEHOG I SWEAR TO THE SOL EMERALDS--!” She managed to cut herself off in time. She shook the watch furiously.
“ --ime --don’t --orry.”
She tapped the screen furiously, starting to panic.
---
meanwhile, three branching timelines away Silver was doing the same with his communicator. “Blaze? Can you hear me? The reception in this reality is awful.” His head nonchalantly ducked out of the way of a blade that was launched at him, the blade was attached to a chain at the handle, the combatant yanked back on the chain pulling the blade back and a chunk of the brick wall it was lodged in with it. The wall chunk crashed into the teal force field Silver created behind him. He remained unharmed, and the blade returned to the hand of the opposing combatant. Infinite The Jackal wore a mask which covered all his facial features apart from his left eye, but even with it on Silver could tell he was disappointed and... offended?
“Hello?! Are you paying attention? I was explaining my master scheme! You know we're fighting right?”
“Sorry.”
“It's very rude to ignore your fellow combatant!”
“Sorry.”
“Seriously, you can't wait?! You're in the fight of your current life!”
“I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. What were you saying?”
“Ugh, I was saying; Say your prayers hedgehog, because I'm about to send you back to your God! Ha ha ha!”
“Well, I'm one of the three people who restarted the universe so I'm technically one third year God.” He remarked in his chipper tone.
“Wha- What? Wait, wh- “
“Run hands.”
“W-- Wait! Wait!”
---
“Hello? Are you back?” Blaze and Marine were now clothed in Autumn-like clothing; puffy coats, beanie hats, earmuffs and scarves in orange, yellow, beige colour palettes, the cat was also sipping on a pumpkin spice latte.
“Yeah, I'm okay. I'm here. Where were we?” He smiled wide.
“Your naive optimism.”
“Oh yeah, you can do it!”
“Ugh, I hope this will go better than the time I left you to deal with my royal paperwork for a day.”
“I don't think it was that bad.”
“Oh, it was that bad, mate.” Marine corrected him.
“Silver, you said there was a ticking clock. How long do we have?”
“Well, how far are we into the narrative? 1,115 words out of 4,009. That's not good.” The bug suddenly roared again and increased in size breaking the chair it was on to reach the higher cabinets. “That's not good. It feeds on narrative significant events. We need to stop it before we get into the second act!”
“H-- How do we do that?” Blaze asked puzzled.
“Alright, you'll need to go into my room, you have my permission, there's a box under my bed for emerg—”
“I got it!” Marine popped up out of nowhere with the cardboard box held up with her hands.
“How did you get past the safety measures? Have you... Gone into my room before?”
“Not now Silv! Focus on what's important!” Marine waved him off.
Blaze took the box and placed it on the floor. She opened it and began to rummage through the contents, “What am I looking for, Silvy?”
“My spare gauntlet, put it on.” The lilac cat reached in and retrieved the glove, and pulled it onto her right hand. The gauntlet was silver and gold with circuitry detail on it that Silver had on his hands and across his entire body. The moment the feline's hand slipped into the glove it lit up with an orange glow. “Alright, it's glowing orange, what does that mean?”
“Baby Setting.”
“What?”
“Parental lock.” Silver shrugged.
“Oh, so that's why it didn't work before.” Marine piped up. Blaze and Silver both gave her a look, Silver’s was softer, Blaze’s was sterner. The raccoon began to sweat and looked off to the side, “Uhmm, never mind, carry on.”
“Anyways, it's the lowest, most limited setting.” Silver explained. “We don't want to unravel the fabric of space-time... or time-space. Our priority is to find out how it ended up here, they usually live in untime; in time between seconds.”
“Alright.” She attempted to follow.
“There should also be a notebook in the box.” Silver remarked. Marine dove in and pulled out the book covered in sticky notes with ‘Silver’s Notebook - Do Not Open Unless Silver’ written on it and scratched out with pen, underneath it was written ‘Proto-Everywhen’ along with dozens of other notes scribbled in Silver’s unreadable handwriting talking about things she did not understand.
“What’s Everywhen?”
“Not right now.”
“Yep, got it, mate.” Marine confirmed
“Darling, we need to work on your handwriting, it's atrocious.”
“Sorry, sorry, I know.”
“What are we looking for?” Marine asked as she opened up the journal and began to flip through.
The raccoon’s and cat’s eyes widened in confusion. It kept on flipping. Pages kept on flicking by. Blaze spoke up, “Silver, uh, the book, the pages, they keep on turning, it's not stopping.” Shock still on her face.
“Yeah, it's the InfinaJournal. It needs to hold an infinite amount of notes on all of time and space, you know how big all of time and space is!? It's quite large, I'd say.” He flung his arms up, talking kinetically.
“How do we find anything in this dump!?” Marine yanked on her head hair.
“The glove. You can turn back time to the moment when I wrote the notes about the Continuuasite. We need to find out how it got here. We need to pinpoint what happened to the timeline. It could have been a timeshift, a timestorm, a timethreshold, a timefold, a timefracture, a timestorm, or a timehail, which are all distinctly different and mistaking one for the other could lead to disastrous consequences.”
“Uh, um, al- alright.” Blaze’s regular confident tone had given way to a stammer of insecurity.
“It's alright, I'll take you through the process step by step.” Silver’s big wet puppy eyes comforted her somewhat. He instinctively reached out his hands towards Blaze, forgetting that he couldn't touch her. She wished she could hold him, she never enjoyed knowing he was always several realities away from her, constantly in danger, without anyone with him to watch his back. Blaze often offered to go with him to all those futures and alternate timelines, but Silver always refused. He could not in good conscience endanger her like that. Silver knew that the toll time travel took on a person and he would have hated to see that happen to Blaze. She had so many responsibilities already, the weight of her dimension carried on her shoulders. This was his burden to carry, for her, for everyone. He believed it was the least he could do for her, for all that she had done for him, for all that she had sacrificed for him. “Close your eyes.” The feline did so. “It's all about willpower. Luckily, you're the strongest willed person I know. You have to will your thoughts into existence. You need to imagine me writing the notes on the bug. Imagine feeling the texture of the paper. The sound of ink running against the paper. Imagine me. The texture of my fur. The touch of my hand. Do you see it?”
The cat's temperature began to rise in and around the feline's body, redness rising across her cheeks, “Yes. I see you.”
“Reach out your hand, hand open, palm facing the book. Fingers in a clawing-like position, as if you're holding a large dial, like a oven knob. Keep the image of the information being written down in your mind's eye. Okay?”
“Yes. I have it. Go on.”
“It's like cranking a clock. Clockwise moves time forward. Anti-clockwise moves time backward. So, you want to turn anti-clockwise, to the left.” She turned her hand to the left slowly.
“Okay, how long do I keep this up? When do I know I'm on the right page?” She asked with her eyes still closed.
“The image in your mind's eye; have I been replaced with you?”
“Y- Yes?”
“Open up!” Blaze opened her eyes and lo and behold, the journal stopped turning and it was opened on the page with the information they needed.
Blaze froze a little, eyes wide, “I- I did it... I DID IT! I DID IT!”
“YOU DID IT! I told you you could do it!” Silver remarked smiling from ear to ear. “You're a natural! Wonderful. Exceptional. Beautiful. One-of-a-kind. Breathtaking. Show stopping!” He raised his arms up in excitement.
“I- It’s hardly anything.” She waved the complement off.
“What does it say?” Silver asked as he leaned in.
Marine yanked the book away from Blaze. She practically face planted into the open pages. “Alright, past Silver writes that ‘meta-class narrative-eaters that feed on plot points are often shoved into our realities through’... wait a sec.”
“Why? Don't keep the tension building! Just read it!” Blaze growled.
“I can't! When I said ‘past Silver writes’ I meant it! Mate’s writing in the words right now as we speak.” The raccoon returned her gaze to the notebook. “Um, let's see here... ‘a time shift’! ‘Which occurs when a large sizable block of a timeline is pushed out into untime leaving a window which allowed the bugs to funnel in’. Okay, I think I got like 40% of that. ‘To solve this problem is quite simple’, okay good, ‘simply push the block back into place with the rest of the timeline’... HOW THE BLOODY H E DOUBLE HOCKEY STICKS DO YOU PUSH TIME!?!?!” Marine returned to yanking her hair in stress. Yet another roar from the bug came out of the kitchen and it increased in size and barged through the kitchen wall out into the royal gardens outside.
“Oh, that's not good.” Silver remarked under his breath.
“Silver! What do we do?!” Blaze yelled.
---
Meanwhile, once again timelines away the grasyish hedgehog was pacing back and forth at the Quantum Bus Stop. The bus stop in untime, between timelines which he could see in the distance separated by a black blank void. He was panicking, scratching his head quills. Blaze was still on the other side of the comms, conversing as a hologram, she spoke, “Starlight, what do we do?!”
“Um, hold on, give me a second.” A bus materialised at this stop and its doors folded open. Silver sprinted aboard. “Just hold on for a little longer. I'm on my way back to our timeline branch!” A hooded figure behind the wheel of the bus reached out its palm, asking for compensation. “Oh shoot.”
“What's going on, Silver?”
Silver padded down his suit looking for any form of currency. “I need a ticket for the Styx Fare, but I’m out of Precious Seconds, so I'll have to give a blood sacrifice.”
“What?!”
“Unless… Hey does anybody have any spare change here?” Silver exclaimed to the rest of the bus. Which was filled with Silvers from all across time travelling from one time to another. They all nodded ‘no’ and shrugged. “Eh,” He waved them off, “Doesn't matter. Look...” He took a deep breath in…
---
… and out. “... Blaze, I'm on my way, but... I don't think I'll get there in time... you'll have to fix the time shift on your own. The bracelet on the gauntlet, turn it to the top setting. It should light up cyan, like my markings.”
“Silver, you said we don't want to unravel all of time in space! W- What if I do something wrong? I could make things worse!”
Silvers hologram grew in size to regular size. Silver’s green form stood in front of Blaze. He reached out his palm. Blaze met his with hers. And their fingers intertwined. She couldn't feel him, not his warmth, not his softness. “You can do this. You can do anything. I never wanted to burden you with all this, this was my weight to carry. You've always had to deal with so much, run this entire Queendom, protect to this dimension... deal with me. But when push comes to shove you always manage to do the impossible. Because you’re you. And I love that about you. If someone is depending on you, you will stop at nothing to succeed, through your willpower. And right now, your Queendom, your people, are depending on you. I'm depending on you, Jalapeno.”
The cat closed her eyes, took a deep breath in and out, and re-opened her eyes with new determination. “Alright, guide me.” She attempted to ignore the heat rising across her cheeks, it helped that Silver's face was getting red like a tomato too, his head bowed down and that silly smile stood strong on his face. “Tell me what to do.” She gave him a small smile as she gave him a command.
“First thing’s first, you'll need to slow the bug down.”
Marine piped type, “I'm on it!” The raccoon, young and fearless, charged at the bug ten times her size, screaming a war cry at the top of her lungs. The little raccoon had flung herself at the bug, grabbing its leg and started chopping at it with her meat cleaver. The parasite took notice and turned its head to her, its mouth opened and an acid like bile shot out. Marine managed to dodge in time. The moment the green bile hit the ground it sped up the time of that particular area turning the green flowery patch of grass into a barren dried up patch of desert. Next the bug spit something akin to the silk web. Marine once again dodged out of the way. This time, on impact, the web exploded and then imploded, dragging its surroundings into itself. Marine got another shot in as she flung the meat cleaver at the bug's head, which lodged itself in its head. That seemed to enrage the beast as it quickly charged at the raccoon and swiped at her knocking her away.
“MARINE!!!”
Blazes eyes flared up with flame and fire, boiling with rage, bursting into a cyclone of fire, flying into the bug launching it out of the castle grounds, skipping it like a stone across the pond. The bug crashed into the sands of the coastal beach at the edge of the island. Blaze rushed over to Marine, holding her in her arms, “Marine are you- are you okay?” She asked worried.
“I'm fine. My pride's hurt more than anything.” The raccoon got up as she coughed, “You focus on the timey whimey stuff, now it's personal.” She cracked her knuckles and neck. She pulled out a remote device from one of her skirt pockets. She ran off towards the bug.
The bug was getting its bearings, taking in its new setting, dozens of people were scattering in panic at the beach. “Hey! Over here!” The bug turned to see Marine standing on a ridge in front of it. The small raccoon donned a pair of sunglasses and smirked, “You messed with the wrong raccoon!” She pressed a collection of buttons on her remote. The bug heard a collection of noises from behind, coming from the ocean behind it. It turned back to see a whole naval armada standing by, all of the ships Marine ever built, all cannons pointing at the bug. All the dozens of ships she had constructed over the years, all her engineering prowess on display. From far away Blaze heard the booming of artillery shells and the lights over the horizon of rounds exploding on impact. Blaze just watched on in worry.
Silver spoke up, “Marine will be fine. She’s tough. She learned from you,” he comforted his partner, “But she won't be able to defeated it. She needs you for that.”
“What now?”
“Close your eyes. Reach out your hands. Willpower. Imagination. Imagine the timeline as a train track, it's disconnected from the rest of the rail, you need to pull the lever, you'll need to reconnect the tracks. It's like-- have you ever played with those little-- they're not Legos, Kinect, they had like little metallic balls-“
“I understand, Silver.” She smiled.
“You're pushing a block into place, you'll feel a ‘click’ when it's in place.” Blaze understood. Every muscle in her body tensed, more than usual, her feet anchored in the ground. She imagined the lever on the train tracks, she took hold of it, and pulled. She gritted her teeth. She felt the weight of the universe on her shoulders, the weight of time and space seemed infinite and impossible, it felt like her muscles would tear apart before she moved it an inch. But that did not stop her. Beyond the Herculean task she was in the process of, she focused on the sound of battle in the distance. Marine was out there doing her best trying to combat a being from beyond their reality, with no hope of winning. And yet she stood her ground. Blaze couldn't express how proud she was. That pride burned bright and warm in her heart. That bravery, that determination, that willpower, could those be qualities she taught her? Did she do a good job mentoring the girl? That pride within her, in the girl she looked after, powered her mind and spirit. She pulled and the world moved. Rumbles and tremors could be felt throughout all of time and space, through past, present, and future, even Silver felt the quakes realities away. She pulled on the quantum lever, she roared into the heavens as her person burst into a supernova, blasting a beam of fire into the sky.
One final pull and a BOOM resonated across all of time and space. She assumed that that was the ‘click’ Silver spoke of, as in her mind's eyes she now saw the train tracks aligned.
She opened her eyes. She began to breathe; she hadn't even realised that she was holding her breath. The flames faded. Without a hesitation the feline launched off with her hyper speed in search of Marine. “Marine!?! Marine?!” She zipped and zoomed across the beach in search of the young raccoon, “Mar! Mari!!?” She began to hyperventilate; her eyes began to water. There was no sign of the parasite, but there wasn't any sign of Marine eith-
Suddenly, a nearby pile of rubble began to shake and part. And from underneath it jumped out an excited raccoon, smiling ear to ear, arms in the air, “Wooooooooo!!!! Take that you dumb bug! You did it, B!”
Blaze quickly leapt at the young raccoon and embraced her in a big hug. “I was so worried. You're alright!”
“Psst, f course I'm okay.” She pointed at herself with her thumbs, “I'm the best! Smartest mammal on the earth! HA!”
Beep. Beep.
It was the watch communicator, Blaze once again tapped the blinking blue screen, and Silver’s visage appeared again. “Blazey! MarMar! Are- Are you all right?! What happened?!”
“It's alright, Silvy. We're safe. We did it.”
“We kicked that bug’s butt! Woooo!” Marina punched the air in excitement.
“Ha! See!? I told you you could do it! You're a natural!” He gave Blaze a smile, she smiled back.
“Dude, we need to celebrate! With ice cream!”
“Sounds lovely.” She rolled her eyes, “How long until you get here?” She asked Silver.
“Few hours. Save some chocolate chip for me! Don't let her eat all of it this time!”
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lyriumlullaby-ao3 · 2 months
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WIP tag game <3
i was tagged by the lovely @illusivesoul, thank you so much!!
i'm gonna tag @broodwolf221, @starstruckkittyface, @jazzmckay, and anybody else who wants an excuse to show off part of their WIP!
seriously. tag me. i love this shit lmao
okayyyy i really struggled to pick a bit to share, but then i remembered this cute, tropey scene i wrote that immediately precedes Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts in my longfic that i don't think i've shared! it's Miri (my inky) and Cullen as they're still in their awkward "oh my god i think i like you" phase lmao. hope you enjoy! <3
Miri found the gardens to be rather sterile. They were too carefully groomed, the angles made where the paths that wound between hedges met were too sharp, and the flowers seemed dull—too perfect in their appearance, and entirely lacking in their scent. It was disappointing to her, and especially so here, on the outskirts of the Dales, of all places. The Keeper and hahrens of her clan had always told fanciful stories of the beauty of the Dales at the time of Halamshiral, and while Miri highly doubted that they were completely true, these gardens could never compare even to what she’d seen in the Emerald Graves. They were too domesticated, too tamed by human hands—just as the Dales themselves were now, she supposed, all these ages since their fall. She had longed to leap from her horse and run laughing into the forests she’d seen to the south of here on their journey, tugging Solas along with her to explore all the things he’d missed during those weeks he’d been gone, and now the soles of her feet itched with the same desire. 
Still, it was quiet here, and Josephine had yet to find her to pester her about more etiquette or dancing lessons, so she supposed she couldn’t really complain. Miri contented herself with pulling at the strings of the Fade with her fingertips to make some of the plants grow a little wild, spilling out of pots and over walkways and fixing the uninspiring blossoms so that the gardens were filled with their fragrance. She had just made several new flower buds bloom on a gardenia bush, its sweet aroma wafting around her as she closed her eyes to admire her handiwork. Keeping them shut as she began stepping away to continue, Miri stumbled unexpectedly into something very large and very solid behind her. Strong hands grasped her by the arms and kept her from falling, and she jumped as her eyes flew open, spinning around and backing away quickly. 
Her heart rate slowed some when she looked up into bright eyes shining gold in the sunlight filtering through the treetops overhead and realized it was just Cullen. Miri let out a breath, chuckling as she clutched at her chest. “Commander! You startled me, I didn’t hear you approach.”
“I can see that, Inquisitor,” he hummed, that crooked smile of his pulling at his scar as he turned her usual joke back around on her. He looked better today than he had the last several weeks, even after their lengthy journey. The shadows under his eyes were all but gone, and he was freshly shaven again. His withdrawals must not be bothering him as much as usual. “Although I feel I must tell you, I’ve been here for some time, sitting right over there,” he teased, gesturing at an overly ornate marble bench behind himself where a book lay abandoned. “It was really you who approached, not me.”
“Ah, that explains it. I can usually hear you coming a mile away with all that plate and mail you wear. Don’t you ever take that off?” Miri joked back.
Cullen flushed, looking away and rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. “What? Oh, I, uh… Of course I do, it’s not as if I sleep in it, and I do have to bathe sometimes—” his teeth clenched and his flush deepened as Miri fought back a giggle at his expression. He was so easy to fluster—he almost did it to himself. “What are you doing out here, anyway?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Fixing their horrible flowers,” Miri replied, pulling a face.
Now it was Cullen’s turn to laugh. “‘Horrible?’ What’s wrong with them?”
“They’re terrible!” Miri scoffed, rolling her eyes slightly as a smile tugged at her lips. “They’re all form and no substance. They don’t even smell like anything.”
Cullen bent over the shrub she’d just been blooming and lifted a hand to bring one of its flowers to his nose as he inhaled deeply. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—it smells like a flower,” he replied, his expression bemused.
“Well, I already fixed that one,” Miri grinned. “What about you, what are you doing out here?”
Cullen flushed again, suddenly very interested in his boots. “Ah, well, I’m… uh, keeping clear of a number of… very enthusiastic young ladies inside the chateau. And a couple of enthusiastic young men, as well, I suppose. I’m not sure exactly who they are, but they wouldn’t leave me alone. I tried staying in my room, but they wouldn’t stop knocking and calling through the door,” he sighed. “I’m hoping they won’t look for me here.”
Miri couldn’t suppress her laughter this time. “You’re… hiding? From some girls?” 
“I’m not hiding! I simply don’t want to be bothered by them, I have more import—” he cut off, freezing as the sound of several tittering voices reached them from just down the path. They sounded like they were just around the corner. Cullen’s face blanched as Miri turned to look over her shoulder, and then all at once, Miri felt strong arms wrap around her torso and she was tugged into a gap in the hedges. 
Cullen held her pressed up against him in the space between the prickly branches—there wasn’t really even room for one average sized person in this little hollow, let alone two, especially if one of them happened to be as large as the Commander was. The hard plate of his cuirass pressed against her chest uncomfortably and restricted her breathing. Or, she thought it was his cuirass, anyway—why else would she suddenly be struggling to get enough air? There wasn’t any room for Miri to step away from him, and she could feel the heat of his hand pressing into her back as she craned her neck back to look at him. He lifted one finger to his lips, begging her to stay silent, but it was unnecessary—Miri couldn’t even breathe as his lyrium tang pressed into her lungs, the smell of it like the scent of a lightning storm on the wind just before the rain began. There was no way she could have made a sound even if she’d wanted to. 
Miri watched as Cullen’s eyes darted back and forth, panicked as the voices drew nearer. His gloved finger was still pressed up against his lips, puckered slightly outwards as he silently hushed her. She felt her breath catch when his eyes fell to hers, seemingly realizing for the first time how closely he held her to him, and a flush crept up his neck as she watched, but it was too late—the voices of Cullen’s admirers were just outside their hiding spot now. If either of them moved, they’d be discovered for sure. 
Cullen didn’t look away from her as she had expected—he held her gaze for an impossibly long moment while they waited for the voices to leave again. Miri felt frozen there, unable to move even if he hadn’t been holding her so tightly. His finger slowly left his lips, the rest of them uncurling from against his palm as his hand fell to her face. Gently, he lifted a tiny braid that had fallen loose from the rest of her style and into her face, tucking it reverently back behind her left ear where it belonged. Miri shivered at his touch when his soft glove brushed against the sensitive skin of her pointed ear, making a chill run down her spine. The voices were gone—but Cullen’s grip didn’t loosen on her waist. She watched as his eyes fell to her mouth, licking his lips and swallowing hard—
And then he released her. She stumbled backwards out of the hedge, nearly straight into the gardenia bush, gasping for breath. “Cullen, what in the Void—”
“I’m sorry, I could hear them coming, I panicked, and—Maker’s breath,” he mumbled, his mouth opening and closing as he searched for words.
A nervous giggle tore itself from her throat as Miri tried desperately to find something to do with her hands—what did normal people do with their hands in normal situations? “I noticed,” she gasped, still giggling. “Why did you pull me in with you?”
“I… I don’t know,” he breathed, looking at her strangely. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine, Cullen, you don’t have to—”
“Would you just—” he hissed, his brow furrowing for a moment and his hands coming up to slice at the air dramatically before he softened and his voice evened back out, “—let me apologize? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I wasn’t thinking, I just…”
“You just reacted. I understand. It’s fine, Cullen, really—you didn’t make me uncomfortable.” Miri was surprised at how true the words felt as she said them. A templar had just grabbed her, pulled her into a bush, and held her flush against his body—touching her rather intimately, while he was at it—and she wasn’t uncomfortable with it? Maybe she was ill, she thought, pressing her cool hands to her flushed cheeks. 
But he isn’t a templar, something in Miri whispered, making her look back up at him again to find him watching her. Cullen’s face was still flushed pink to the tips of his ears, his lips parted as if he were about to say something. Miri didn’t know how it was always like this with him—either talking over one another, rushing to speak as words tumbled out of her before she’d even thought them through, or standing stock still, suspended in silence, staring at one another as seconds stretched stiffly between them, both waiting for the other to blink first. There was something about it that made her think of an the halla she’d accidentally killed when her magic first manifested, held motionless in a pillar of ice, though still alive, straining against the magic that held it as it slowly suffocated. 
Cullen leaned slowly towards her, and for a moment, Miri’s brain blanked out as his tall frame bent over hers, his face so close she could hear the quiet sound of his breath—and then he straightened again, twirling one of the fresh gardenia blossoms from the plant behind her in his nimble fingers. He flushed a bit deeper then, looking a little unsure of himself once more, then lifted the flower towards her stem first, a question in his one raised eyebrow. 
Miri wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, her mind still scrambling to catch up after the last few minutes, but she nodded anyway, and he gently tucked the bloom into her hair where he’d just brushed it over her ear. “These are lovely, Lavellan. It would be a shame to leave them all here where no one will truly appreciate what you’ve done with them. You should take one.” 
He grew bashful then when she didn’t reply, stunned into silence. Cullen stepped back from her, fiddling with one of his gloves with the opposite hand. “Well then, I’ll, uh. I’ll leave you to enjoy the gardens. Inquisitor,” he murmured, nodding at her and then hurrying away.
Miri reached a hand up to touch the flower tucked into her hair. “Thank you,” she whispered after him, far too late. He was already gone.
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kylejsugarman · 3 years
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wow i wasn't expecting so much kind feedback from that post :’) below the cut is the fic, “love will not break your heart”. PLEASE remember this was written five years ago and i wasn't expecting to fall back into moral orel but here tf we are ❤️ 
i. idolatry
"Who does that cloud look like?"
"Umm…" The brunette tilted her head pensively, tracing the arbitrary peaks and valleys of the cloud in question with a critical eye. Her expression of solemn concentration buckled under a luminescent smile as she finally identified the cloud's likeness. "It's Joshua! See the beard?"
"Oh, wow, you're right!" He pointed to an adjacent puff of condensation on the verge of dissipating under the snowy glare of winter sun. "And there's the city of Jericho!"
She giggled in agreement and rolled onto her side; verdant streaks of earth branded her baptism-white cheek. A strand of sandy hair had escaped her new red headband (he had nervously presented it to her and promptly melted at the sight of her grateful beam) and now unfurled down the length of her pearly face. He brushed it back into place, then blushed.
"Uh, sorry."
"It's okay, Orel," she said with an adoring laugh. His timid eyes--coppery pools into which one's best qualities were inevitably reflected--found her own, then flicked downwards in humility. Though she appreciated his respect for her, the reverence with which he treated her was slightly disquieting. There was something to worship in both of them, something she felt she failed to adequately express. "Orel?"
The eyes, lit dreamily by a refulgent sky. "Yes, Christina?"
She touched a hesitant hand to his face and waited for the momentary tension of his form to abate as he recognized the tenderness of the gesture. There was the inexorable flutter of panic in her gut, as if her father were crouched behind one of Inspiration Peak's many bushes waiting to snatch her and drag her back into the study, but she quashed it readily. Her love for Orel was stronger than her fear of her father and with its pristine power she could have demolished that study with a single fiery glance.
But Christina had always favored creation over destruction, so she leaned over and pressed a soft, pink kiss to Orel's mouth. She tried to whisper "Happy Valentine's Day" to establish her motive, but was immediately silenced as he braced himself up on an elbow and shyly reciprocated the kiss. He tasted like candy heart chalk and mint.
"I love you," he said after he had bashfully withdrawn his head.
The world was shiny and new, the clouds morphing cheerfully behind him into benevolent figures who would shelter the tender bloom of their love. And Christina Posabule reached up to frame Orel's face in her gentle hands and said "I love you too" for the first time.
.
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ii. respect
"Ugh. I never did understand the appeal of French toast."
Dottie scrutinized the buffet offerings, her angelically-proportioned visage contorted into a rictus of disgust. Her plate was sparsely garnished with a serving of greens and a mimosa, which she had already taken a drag from. As she eyed the decadent bricks of syrup-drenched toast, Florence calmly forked an omelet onto her own plate and waited for Dottie to make a decision. The Valentine's Day brunch was rarely an extravagant affair, but there were certainly enough dishes to satisfy even Dottie's impossibly high culinary standards.
"I think French toast is wonderful," Florence said. She expected this remark to be met with a haughty sniff or snide comment, but Dottie abstained. She even summoned a mordant grin.
"Well. I suppose the French are the superior culture for a reason." The blonde delicately pronged a lone slice of French toast onto her plate, taking care to select the most lightly-sugared piece on display. "Alright, I'm done. Quick, before I change my mind."
Florence led Dottie back to their booth, which had been denoted by the placement of their respective pocketbooks on the table (Florence's sturdy handbag looking markedly haggard next to Dottie's designer clutch). The two women supped here together after church, a tradition that had been inaugurated shortly after the Reverend's Easter sermon. Dottie had apologized to Florence in a rare fit of humility and promised to stop berating her roommate for her figure; Florence, ever the victim, dutifully accepted her apology. However, Dottie had surprised her by making a noticeable effort to curb her cruel commentary and even started contributing to the community by taking on sewing projects. Her lovely dresses soon filled the closets of every woman in Moralton--including Florence's. The rather flattering candy-pink wrap dress that Florence was wearing now was Dottie's handiwork, a fact the blonde managed to work into every conservation.
"Darling, that dress is absolutely divine on you," Dottie said, lighting a cigarette.
"Yes, thank you." Florence smoothed down the collar and smiled at the sight of her freckled hands. A modest diamonded band adorned her ring finger.
Dottie noticed her admiring of the piece of jewelry; she pursed her polished lips expectantly. "I really think you should've sprung for something bigger."
"Oh, I think this is just lovely the way it is," Florence insisted. She elevated her hand in order to demonstrate the diamond's iridescence. A slant of noon light caught the mineral and fissured apart into chromatic prisms; diamonded specks twinkled across the laminated tabletop. It was a rather appropriate expression of Florence's own appearance, something the ring's buyer had obviously taken into consideration. "Aren't you happy with your ring?"
"Me? Why I'd rather die than have this ring taken off my finger." Dottie inspected the arrangement of jewels gracing her own finger, which were independently lustrous and set into an ingot of platinum. The colors matched the sheen of her blonde curls perfectly.
An inexorable smile pressed dimples into either of Florence's cheeks. "You really like it?"
Dottie flicked her cigarette ash into the table's decorative vase with an insouciant tap of her manicured finger. Her expression was characteristically enigmatic ("you can't let them think you're interested," she had lectured Florence as she practiced looking jaded in the mirror), but the favor with which she regarded the ring was unmistakable. Finally, she said "I love it" in an emphatically decisive voice tempered with genuine affection. An affection that Florence reciprocated with an echoing of the sentiment before cutting into her omelet and watching Dottie slice willingly into a piece of French toast.
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iii. requited
"Um, anything else, Steph?"
The tattooed, pierced, and freshly dyed vision of beauty glanced up from her book, eyes lightly glazed from an hour of reading. She had salvaged a rather intriguing volume of essays about evolution from a seedy bookshop in Sinville and was determined to complete the tome before it could be snatched and tossed on the literary pyre. Forghetty's wasn't exactly the ideal location for intellectual pursuits, but Stephanie had abandoned the shop at the mere notion of Karl and Kim Latchkey requesting some disgustingly romantic apparel for the holiday and decided that she deserved  some discounted Valentine's vodka for soldiering through the week unscathed.
"Another vodka would be great."
Dolly smiled warmly. "Coming right up."
As the blonde scooped ice into a tumbler, Stephanie became suddenly and acutely aware of the candy-pink heart branding the small of Dolly's neck. Despite having stitched ink into countless arms and sides, she was shocked by the heart's symmetry. It was absolutely flawless.
"One vodka," Dolly said, sliding the glass across the condensation-varnished bar. Her fingers were impossibly long, slender--piano fingers. Stephanie could not fathom why these trivial details fascinated her so, but she was suddenly pressed to learn more about the daisy-pretty bartender who had dutifully refreshed her tumbler for the past hour. Starting with that immaculate tattoo.
"Thanks. Uh, Dolly? Where'd you get that ink on your neck?"
"Ink on my--?" She palpated her neck in befuddlement before remembering the previous night and giggling wanly. "Oh, it-it's just pen. My friends thought it would be funny if I actually got a tattoo, so they had the guy draw it on, but I… I chickened out, I guess."
"Oh."
"It's not that I don't want a tattoo," Dolly quickly amended, tipping Stephanie's colorful arms an appreciative nod. "I'm just kinda chicken about needles."
Stephanie quirked an amused eyebrow. "So you would get a tattoo?"
"Well." She sheepishly wrung a damp cloth out over the bar top and made a concentrated effort to appear occupied by the menial task. "Maybe."
"That heart's pretty cute. I think it would look nice back there."
Roses bloomed in Dolly's porcelain cheeks. Though her friends had never abstained from making passively nasty comments about Stephanie's unusual appearance and proud deviance from Moralton's constrictive status quo, Dolly had always fostered a secret respect for her. There was something alluring about Stephanie, something that begged back story: Dolly longed to read the text that accompanied the illustrations trellising her arms like ivy. "You think so?"
"Definitely. And if you're scared of needles, I've got an assistant who could probably distract you," Stephanie added with a playful smirk. Orel had curbed several customers' needle anxiety with breathless sermons about the incredibleness of Jesus and anecdotes about his occasionally distressing adventures ("and then I died! Three times! It was neat!")
"Would you really give me a tattoo?" Dolly asked, equally hopeful and horrified.
"If you're up for it."
Dolly twisted the cloth in her hands for a moment. The yearning to know Stephanie--to know every corner, every fold--was blossoming urgently in her chest. She wanted more than a tattoo. She wanted to familiarize herself with the inky mysticism enshrouding Stephanie Putty and if that meant romance, if that meant public scorn and disappointment and disgusted looks, so be it. She wanted Stephanie. She wanted all of her.
"Doll?"
"Y-Yes," Dolly sputtered, visibly flustered. Then she grinned cautiously and set down her hands on the bar top, allowing Stephanie to admire their delicate whorls and pearly nails at a closer proximity. "I'd love that."
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iv. infatuation
"I know you think I'm stupid, Marionetta."
They had cloistered themselves away in a small clearing that provided some margin of protection from their schoolmates' scorn. A mild sky opened above them, achingly empty, painfully wide. As he stared into its doleful depths--oppressing himself not to betray the shame making dewy his eyes--he recalled the passages he had studied about the atmosphere. His old teachers had refused to teach the subject, citing the lack of a Heaven in the textbook's diagram of the Earth's atmosphere. He imagined it was sandwiched between the mesosphere and thermosphere, an impossible realm illuminated by auroras and burning space debris. But in the absence of substantial evidence that such a place existed, he was content to call the clearing Heaven, as long as Marionetta was there.
The girl smoothed imaginary wrinkles out of her dotted skirt. Even
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btsinwonderland · 3 years
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A Drop of Poison - Ch. 5: Dinner
A Loki fanfiction!
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Full Chapter List
Chapter warnings: bit of self-smut at the end!
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As the stone gargoyle stopped, its last movement echoed through the Headmistress's chambers. At first glance, there was her desk, which seemed more the size of a bed than a table. On it were papers, books, bottles, and a large tray for her mail. Several trinkets and baubles were strewn across the desk, on the edge of which perched a beautiful phoenix bird that idly observed you and Professor Laufeyson enter the room. It ruffled a wing, and a small feather fell to the ground. You walked over to it and the creature raised its head, watching you. You stopped, and it clicked its beak once, as if giving you permission. Its eyes were very much aware and held an aura of deep intelligence. You picked up the feather and observed its gorgeous array of teal and aquamarine with flecks of gold at the tip. Professor Laufeyson smirked at you curiously before moving on.
Behind the Headmistress’s desk was a wall, where paintings of the former heads of Hogwarts hung, along with regional maps and a rather large painting of a giant tree in outer space. The wall blocked off an area of the room where you heard the clinking of plates and cutlery.
“Come in Loki and Freya!” You heard Headmistress Frigga’s voice. Your heart lurched when she said your name. Of course she knew you were there.
You followed Professor Laufeyson into the area behind her office. He took your book, despite your panicked expression, and placed it on a stool. You kept glancing at it as if it might disappear again.
“Don’t worry, it’ll be right here. No books at the dinner table,” he said in a low voice.
You sighed and reluctantly let your eyes wander. There was a beautiful oak table that was covered in glass. The slice of wood underneath had a blue light etched into it with violent streaks. You marvelled at the glow as Headmistress Frigga ushered you to sit down.
“This wood was captured at the moment of a great storm, and the pattern you see here was made by lightning. The light comes from the plasma itself, which has been preserved all these years with a sealing spell.”
You raised your eyebrows as you sat down and traced the rippling light along the glass. “It’s beautiful,” you said.
Professor Laufeyson sat down across from you and smiled at his mother. “Mother, what a pleasure it is to see you. You have not aged a day since I last saw you; your beauty is everlasting.”
“You must think I’m a piece of bread that needs to be buttered so thoroughly, Loki,” she said with a laugh.
He looked away with his mouth in a thin line. You concealed a smile. Perhaps this evening would be less mortifying than you thought.
Headmistress Frigga placed the last of the napkins on the table and looked at her handiwork. “Good, now we just need Thor.”
“Being on time was never his forte,” Professor Laufeyson said, casually picking a piece of lint off his shirt.
At that, heavy footsteps entered the chamber, and Professor Odinson walked in. His face was streaked in dried mud and his hair had chunks of dirt in it.
“Did you get dragged out of a pigsty?” Headmistress Frigga said sternly, waving her wand at him. He was immediately cleaned up as he patted his chest and arms, looking for smudges or marks.
“Thank you, mother,” he said. “No, it was a mess of a practice. The storm is only getting worse. There’s a Gryffindor-Slytherin match coming up this week and I need to get the students ready. The Wilson boy has joined the serpents team as their new seeker, and he’s very good.” He stopped talking once he noticed you and glanced at Professor Laufeyson. “Freya, I did not expect to see you here...at a family dinner.”
Your face warmed up, and you looked down at your plate, searching for the words. Professor Laufeyson interjected. “She’s my guest. A reward, for being such a prize pupil.” You glanced at him and he looked utterly serious.
“Prize pupil, eh?” Professor Odinson said as he sat down beside you. He smelled of earth and soil; a warm sort of scent.
“Well, your brother has deemed her worthy for my cooking at the least, and my dear, I’m not sure if that’s much of a prize,” Headmistress Frigga said as she waved her wand and a heavy looking white dish floated over to the center of the table.
The smell of meat and potatoes filled your nose, and your stomach rumbled loudly. You muttered an embarrassed apology. Professor Odinson laughed and patted your shoulder. “Too busy studying, I see! With that work ethic, you’ll make an excellent auror in no time.”
Headmistress Frigga waved her wand to dish out the stew on everyone’s plate. Professor Laufeyson raised a brow at you. “An auror, is that your goal, Miss Eves?”
You cleared your throat. “Well, I’m not sure. I’m still thinking about what I want to do…”
“Smart girl, there’s still time. You’re so young,” Headmistress Frigga said, as a warm buttered bread roll landed on everyone’s plate.
“It’s just what the ministry needs, more witches and wizards to indoctrinate,” Professor Laufeyson said.
Professor Odinson bit into a buttered roll. “The ministry isn’t indoctrinating anybody, they have rules, Loki. People need rules,” he said, pointing with the half-eaten roll in his hand.
“Now, where’s the fun in that?” he replied, leaning back. He gracefully popped a carrot into his mouth and you could not help but get caught in the subtle movement of his lips. He caught you looking at him and his mouth twitched slightly.
“The world would fall into chaos if we didn’t have any rules,” Professor Odinson said.
Professor Laufeyson smiled mischievously. “Perhaps the world needs a bit of chaos,” he said, eyes flashing.
“It is nice to have you both in the same room again,” Headmistress Frigga said with a gentle smile, looking at both her sons. She sipped a bit of wine and then took a bite of stew. “Oh bother, it seems I’ve forgotten the salt again.”
You continued to eat as they discussed mostly surface topics. Professor Odinson talked about the new Quidditch lineup for every country participating in the world cup this year. Headmistress Frigga mentioned news about the school; they were going to increase security since there were more students found out of bed despite the warnings to stay away from the Forbidden Forest. Professor Laufeyson very sneakily caught your eye and winked as she said this. This caused you to nearly choke on your potatoes and cough rather ungracefully, which earned you a chuckle from Professor Laufeyson.
You ate until you were stuffed and found yourself observing Professor Laufeyson as he talked to his family. He seemed attentive and present, yet there was something about his eyes that seemed distant; almost calculating. What went on in his mind was well beyond your comprehension and so you decided to concentrate on a newly conjured pile of rather delicious looking apple turnovers sitting on the side table.
Everyone had gotten up at this point while Headmistress Frigga cleaned up the dishes. Plates, knives, and forks floated in line into a dish tray, which disappeared with a flick of her wand once it was full. She went around the corner to find her shaker of cinnamon and cayenne for the turnovers while Professor Odinson and Laufeyson went back to the main office area. You wandered over to the wall, away from view, but within earshot.
“Why did you bring Freya here?” Professor Odinson said.
Professor Laufeyson laughed. “Are we having some sort of private meeting to discuss our sinister family affairs? You’ve grown so serious without my presence.”
You heard heavy shuffling of feet; it was Professor Odinson. “That was not of my choice, Loki. You left.”
Professor Laufeyson’s voice went cold. “I left because there was nothing here for me but lies.”
“What about us, your family?”
“What makes us family?”
You waited a few awkward seconds as their conversation went silent. Then Professor Odinson chuckled humorlessly. “This, brother, your contempt makes us family.”
“Turnover?” said Headmistress Frigga, right behind you, and you jumped.
She guided you over to the table where the turnovers were and you saw the phoenix perched beside it, pecking at the large crumbs by its talons. You had not even noticed it come into the room; it’s stealth was admirable. “What a beautiful creature,” you said.
Headmistress Frigga gently pet the top of its head. “Fawkes is bound to die anytime now, she’s been in a dreadful mood lately.” She glanced at you. “Professor Heimdall spoke to me, Freya.”
Your stomach dropped as you realized that the Headmistress must know nearly everything. It would not only be silly to lie to her, but it would be insulting. You decided to be honest. “Professor Heimdall told me that my visions were false.”
“And what do you think?”
You looked back to check if Professor Odinson and Laufeyson were still on the other side of the wall. When you heard their unintelligible voices, you turned back to her and whispered, “they were real.”
She sighed and brushed off some cinnamon from her fingertips. “Professor Heimdall warned you to stay away from Professor Laufeyson, and I’m afraid that I agree with him. My dear, I love my son, but he is a dangerous man now.”
“But, Headmistress, I think I’m getting these visions because I’m supposed to help him.”
Headmistress Frigga crossed her arms and put a hand to her chin. “Puzzling, indeed. You have us, your guides and teachers, telling you one thing. And then, you have your visions, your instincts, telling you the complete opposite.”
“And I don’t know what to do,” you said.
She put her hands on your shoulders and looked at you. Her hair was braided into intricate patterns and on her lips was a soft shade of pink. Just watching her. Anybody could tell that Professor Laufeyson was her son, adopted or not. Every look, every glance; it was just like him, though gentler. “You must do what you think is right. Look inside yourself and see. The trick is that you still might be wrong in the end. But regret comes from empty actions. If you go with a full heart, it will carry you through any circumstances. I cannot tell you which path is the right one, you will have to discover that for yourself.”
Professor Odinson came in and grabbed a turnover from over your shoulder, then popped it into his mouth. “Whatever she’s saying, it’s 100% right.”
Headmistress Frigga laughed. “A mother should be so lucky to have both her sons flatter her so frequently.”
“You will be at the game this Thursday?” Professor Odinson said to you.
“Valkyrie’s first game as captain? I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” You said with a smile.
He smiled. “She’s an excellent Quidditch player, perhaps even better than I was at her age.”
You saved that comment in the back of your mind to tell Valkyrie later. No doubt it would excite her for days on end.
“And where is our Potions master?” Headmistress Frigga said, looking past Professor Odinson.
He looked puzzled and glanced behind him. “He was just behind me,” he said.
Professor Laufeyson came around the corner with your book in his hands. “I was simply admiring our mother’s miniature obelisk collection. What a rarity it is,” he said. “Come now, Miss Eves, the hour grows late and we would not want to get you in trouble.” He handed you your book, and you felt the weight of another book underneath. You glanced at him and he gave you a hard stare. Do not say anything, his eyes seemed to say.
You nodded and turned to thank the Headmistress and Professor Odinson for dinner. She smiled at you. “It was a pleasure to have you, my dear. Remember our talk,” she said, sparing a concerned look at her darker haired son.
Professor Odinson nodded and glanced at his brother with a level of suspicion. He seemed to let it go since he said nothing when you both left. You clutched the books close to your heart as Professor Laufeyson walked with you towards the Hufflepuff common room. When you were far enough away, you looked at the book he had given you. The Writings of Odin Borson.
“These were the journals you’ve been searching for,” you said aloud.
Professor Laufeyson snatched the book from your hands before you could look inside. “They are my father’s journals. I have a right to them,” he said.
“Is that why you had to steal them?” You said and immediately realized that was a mistake.
Suddenly, he pushed you against the wall as he towered over your frame. His hand rested on the stone behind your head and he leaned in. “I have been very kind to you, Miss Eves, though you have been sneaking about the school and breaking the rules. Do not test my patience further.”
You trembled as you took in the entirety of his presence. His scent was a strange but alluring mixture of leather and flora. He enveloped you, and you could barely form coherent thoughts. His grey shirt pulled at the buttons near his chest and you could see the swell of his Adam's apple move as he swallowed. You stared at each other for several seconds. His gaze was intimidating, and yet, you did not want to look away.
He was domineering, but you found your voice. “You only brought me tonight to use me as a distraction, not because I’m a star pupil or because you hate awkward family dinners.”
He actually smiled. “Ah, Miss Eves, you do pleasantly surprise me when you catch on. I’m almost impressed.” He regarded you with a raised brow.
“What are you looking for in Odin’s journals? Is it the blue cube?” You blurted out.
His eyes darkened, and all levity fled. “Where did you hear about that?”
You did not respond, unsure whether to reveal your thoughts to him. He grabbed you by the shoulders and squeezed. “Where did you hear about the Tesseract?” His voice was almost a growl. You placed your hands on his chest, holding him there but not pushing away. He looked at you, eyes blazing with a conflicting sort of passion.
Someone cleared their throat in the hallway. “Is everything alright?” Said a voice just behind you both. It was Professor Fandral with crossed arms. He was glaring at Professor Laufeyson.
“Everything is just fine,” Professor Laufeyson said, not taking his eyes off of you.
“I was asking the student,” he said curtly.
You nodded and slid yourself away from Professor Laufeyson’s side. “Professor Laufeyson was helping me up. I nearly fainted, you see. Thank you, sir!” you said breathlessly, walking away from them, towards the Hufflepuff common room.
You were flustered beyond belief and looked back, seeing Professor Laufeyson regard you once again with a sort of surprise. Perhaps he was not sure why you kept covering for him. Your heart pounded out of your chest, though it was not from fear.
The scent of his body followed you, even if you were no longer close to him. The proximity at which he stood and the feel of his warm chest against your hands...Awakened a desire within that you had never thought about nor dreamed of. He had looked so cross, and though you felt a genuine fear, there was something else. Like a dim lamp across a foggy lake, you felt a part of you grow brighter around him. And tonight, it smoldered.
You returned to your room, burning with a need. It was a need that could not wait. You could not think of anything else but giving in to it. You passed your schoolmates with a subtle hello and goodnight and exhaled in relief to find your bedroom empty.
Hopping into the shower, you scrubbed yourself clean. Upon washing the soap off your body, you ran your hands over your chest and your stomach, in small spirals. You thought about Professor Laufeyson, from his blazing cold eyes to his illuminating smile. It felt so taboo for you to touch yourself, thinking of someone you knew and a part of it felt wrong. But you no longer cared. It was not something you could ignore, at least for tonight. Your body actually ached from the thought of him.
You dried yourself with a fluffy blue towel and slipped on a clean nightgown. It was by no means sexy, but speckled with green and orange dots. However, the cotton rubbed comfortably against your skin.
You checked outside your room for any sign of your elusive roommates. Most students were casually reading or conversing, and so you closed the door, returned to your bed and got under the covers. A deep sigh escaped your lips as you lifted your nightgown and ran your hands over your body. You skimmed your fingers over your thighs as you parted them. Your fingers went down a crooked path to your core and your breath hitched when you discovered how wet you already were.
You ran a thumb down your slit in slow movements, up and down. You imagined Professor Laufeyson’s hands on you. Would his tongue be cool or warm? His tongue ran along your neck in this vision, and he laid over you. He whispered unspeakable things into your ear and slid two fingers inside you. You let out a muffled moan. As your fingers pumped in and out, you envisioned him rubbing his hard body against yours. So close. Your skin heated so quickly. You came to the edge and when you opened your eyes, his name slipped from your lips.
“Loki!” you cried out as you climaxed. You ran your fingers over your slit as the aftershocks receded.
Your eyes closed, and you relaxed into your mattress like a stone. The burning need had been dealt with, but to your dismay, you felt the strong pulse of blood underneath your skin. It wanted more. Your body needed more. Stop it! You told yourself. You pulled down your nightgown roughly and switched off the lamp; frustrated despite pleasing yourself.
You gradually drifted away to sleep and in your dreams, Professor Laufeyson did things you hadn’t dared fantasize about. They were the kind of things that made you want to sleep forever.
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Text
Happy birthday|{Tokoyami Fumikage}
Holy shit okay third time’s the charm
Happy Late Birthday to our favorite Prince of Darkness!
I wrote something for his birthday and I’m pretty sure we all have realized that I probably will never post on time for a character’s birthday lol anyway
I hope you enjoy!
Pairing: Tokoyami Fumikage x Male Reader
Words: 2.3k (2,305)
Warning(s): blood(it’s only a little)
Requests: Open
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Crap crap crap.
How could you not know this?
He’s your boyfriend!
You were pacing around your room. It was 9 pm on October 29th. The night right before Fumikage’s birthday.
And you had nothing to show for it.
You don’t even have a gift... You’ve got nothing to surprise him with.
It was too late in the night to leave the dorms and Fumikage was going to spend the whole day with you tomorrow in your dorm.
You had no decorations, no cake, and no gift.
You thought for a moment before coming up with a few solutions.
For decorations, you could go to Momo for that. For the cake, you’re sure you can convince Sato to help you make one.
But for a gift? it was too late to get permission from Aizawa to leave the dorms.
You sighed and glanced at the time on your phone.
9:43 pm.
If you were going to get help to set up something for his birthday you had to do it now.
You stood up and walked to the door, putting on your slippers and walking out.
First, you headed towards Sato’s room since it was closer.
Knocking on the door, you waited a moment before it swung open.
“(Y/N), What’s up?”
“Tomorrow is Tokoyami’s birthday and I was wondering if you could help me make a cake?”
He thought for a moment before looking at you apologetically.
“Sorry I can’t I need to study tonight.”
You sighed.
“That’s fine do you have any cake recipes that have apples?”
Sato retreated into his room for a minute before coming back with a piece of paper with ingredients and measurements.
“Thanks.”
You waved and walked away towards the elevator.
Pressing Momo’s floor you patiently waited until the ding and walked up to her door.
She had said she was with studying with Jirou so you wanted to make it quick.
Knocking on the door a blushing Momo popped her head out.
“Ah, how can I help you (Y/N)?”
You feel as if you interrupted something that was not studying.
“Yeah, I was wondering if you could do me a favor?”
“Uh yes, what do you need?”
“Could you make me some stuff for a birthday?”
She paused for a moment.
“I- um give me a moment please?”
She hastily shut the door leaving you standing in the hallway alone.
You had been standing there for a while and you were honestly debating just leaving. Until she opened the door again this time a bit wider and handed you a bag.
“H-here you go, good night!”
She closed the door before you could say anything.
“Um, thanks?”
You walked away and headed back to your room.
Just as you were about to open your door Kirishima’s door swung open and Bakugou walked out. The two of you made eye contact but your eyes strayed down to his shirt that you knew for certain belonged to Kirishima.
He blushed and grabbed onto the fabric over his chest.
“Not a damn word.”
You gave him an unimpressed look.
“Half of the class owes me money now so I don’t care, do what you want, or in this case who you want.”
You slipped into your room and shut the door the sound of explosions and Kirishima trying to calm Bakugou down made you snort.
Now, you need to set up the decorations.
You poured the stuff Momo made out of the bag and onto the floor. There wasn’t enough to cover the common room that you could tell from the small size.
So you were going to decorate your room and surprise him with that. Hopefully, it would suffice. There were also some cake decorations thrown in there.
Without wasting any more time you got to work.
About 2 hours and many ruined decorations later you admired your handiwork from the doorway. It wasn’t the best but with your limited resources, it would have to do.
You checked the time and it was already midnight which means everyone should be in their rooms so you should be able to make the cake without anyone knowing.
You walked into the kitchen area and reached into your pocket, taking out the list of ingredients and measurements Sato gave you.
You gathered all of the ingredients that you needed.
You were glad Kaminari and Sero forced Bakugou to help them bake stuff. Although after that the kitchen smelled weird for a few days and you had a suspicion about what they made.
You grabbed your phone and searched for a tutorial and got to work.
You were mixing the batter when the elevator dinged and out stepped your boyfriend.
He was about to round the corner when he heard you.
“Am I doing this right?”
Curious he peeked around the corner and saw you holding a mixing bowl and a cup with a cut-up apple inside staring at your phone screen.
“Mmm yea that’s right, this is easy, haha Fumi’s gonna love this!”
You proceeded to pour the apple slices into the batter and mix.
Fumikage felt his face grow warm.
You were making a cake for him?
“Duh, it’s for our birthday.”
Fumikage jumped as Dark shadow appeared and spoke.
He grabbed Dark shadow and covered his mouth with his hand.
The sound of your mixing stopped.
“Hello? Kirishima or Kaminari, if that’s you just know you’re not getting any so go away.”
The sound of your mixing resumed.
Fumikage released the breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“Don’t be so loud!”
He whisper-shouted at Dark shadow.
“Sorry, Fumi.”
He just sighed and peeked around the corner again to see you pouring out the batter into a pan.
He pulled back and hushed Dark Shadow and began tip-toeing back to the elevator.
You didn’t notice the elevator ding again as you were slipping the pan into the oven.
“Now I just have to wait until it’s done.”
You set a timer for 30 minutes and began searching up another tutorial for icing and began making it.
You had already made 1 color when you decided to check the time again: 2:30 am.
‘Already? But I basically just got here.’
You sighed and began mixing the icing a bit faster.
Around 3 more hours passed with you taking the cake out of the oven and taking your time to very carefully decorate it.
It looked a bit wonky but you’re sure he won’t mind.
You stretched out your limbs hearing the satisfying pops and stood up.
All you needed to do now was get it to your room and then you can surprise him with it.
You cleaned up your area and with one more look over to make sure you didn’t leave anything you picked up the tray with the cake and began walking towards the elevator.
Halfway there your fatigue finally began catching up with you.
You suddenly got hit by a wave of sleepiness and stumbled.
Oh no.
Your foot got stuck behind the other one and you watched as you tipped forward cake already sliding off of the plate.
It couldn’t have gotten any worse but just as you began falling the elevator doors opened revealing Fumikage.
And he witnessed the way you face planted and dropped the cake you spent so much time on onto the floor.
“Um, surprise?”
He looked at the cake and the black and purple icing now covering the floor.
He shook his head and rushed over to you helping you off the floor and pulling you into the kitchen. Making you sit at the counter while he grabbed a few paper towels making you lean down to his height to dab away the blood that’s currently dripping from your nose.
“I guess my surprise was a fail I’m sorry Fumi.”
“It’s okay (Y/N) It’s the thought that counts.”
You straightened up and looked into his eyes.
“But I really wanted to make something for you since I wasn’t able to get you a gift.”
The feathers on his cheeks ruffled as his face grew warmer.
“You don’t need to get me a gift, your presence is enough for me.”
Dark shadow appeared and bumped your hand.
“As long as you keep the head scratches coming I’m cool.”
You smiled and scratched under Dark shadows’ chin.
Fumikage stepped between your legs and wrapped his arms around your neck.
“I saw you last night making the cake I thought it was sweet that you thought of me.”
You looked down at him.
“That was you sneaking around?”
He looked at you sheepishly.
“It was an accident I didn’t know you were in here so late.”
You sighed and placed your hands on his waist placing a soft kiss on his beak.
“Well, at least I have one more surprise that you don’t know about.”
He looked at you with a questioning expression.
“I will show you after I clean up the cake that is currently covering the floor because Iida will probably burst a blood vessel.”
He snorted and let you go so you could grab some cleaning supplies.
After getting as much of the cake out of the carpet as you could, you led him to the elevator pressing the button to your floor.
When the elevator doors opened and you walked up to your door you covered his eyes with your hands.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s a surprise dummy so the two of you have to close your eyes.”
He chuckled.
“Alright, I’ll close my eyes.”
You let go and made sure he didn’t open his eyes and opened the door, grabbing his hand and pulled him inside.
“No peeking I just need to do something really quick.”
He hummed in acknowledgment.
You nodded and began lighting candles one by one.
“I thought you had already dropped the cake before do you have another one I don’t know about?”
“Haha no no just wait one more second, then you’ll see.”
“Hurry up (Y/N) I wanna see!”
Dark shadow cried out.
“Okay okay I’m done you can open your eyes.”
The two of them opened their eyes and dark shadow began laughing and Fumikage had an amused smile.
You had all of the generic birthday decorations like streamers, balloons(without helium), and a banner that said “Happy Birthday!” On it.
But what set them off was another banner that you spelled out his signature phrase “Revelry in the dark” in bright pink lettering. There were also many lit candles that he had given to you before that you haven’t really used. The window was also covered with blackout curtains so the room was dark.
“Tada, do you like it?”
“It’s perfect, thank you (Y/N).”
“Yeah yeah, it’s awesome!”
Fumikage walked up to you and gave you a tight hug. Dark shadow also hugged you from behind.
Sighing you hugged the shorter boy back placing your head on top of his.
“I’m so glad you like it and right now would usually be the part where I give you a gift but I don’t have one so I’m sorry. If I found out sooner I definitely would’ve gotten one.”
He gave his version of a kiss onto your cheek.
“That’s very thoughtful of you.”
“Well since it’s your birthday I’m all yours I’ll do anything you ask me to that’ll be my gift.”
“Well if you’ll do anything will you stay with me and be alone with me to celebrate this day?”
You chuckled and let go of the hug.
“Anything for you my prince of darkness.”
You placed another kiss onto his beak and in one swift motion, you lifted him and plopped him onto your bed.
You climbed on top of him and placed your head on his chest and laced your fingers together.
“You haven’t slept have you?”
“Ah no I haven’t I was up all night baking the cake.”
He looked down at you and placed his hands on your cheeks and using his thumbs to massage the forming bags under your eyes.
“Go to sleep my love, we can celebrate more later today.”
“Are you sure?”
He grabbed the blanket and draped it over the two of you and pulling you more on top of him.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
You looked at him for a moment before letting out an exhausted sigh.
“Okay, Fumi I will.”
“Hey! Don’t leave me out of this I want to hug (Y/N) it’s my birthday too!”
Dark shadow cried out before sliding under the blanked and placing himself on your back.
You chuckled at his antics before a large yawn made its way out of your mouth.
“Goodnight Fumi, goodnight Dark shadow.”
“Goodnight.”
They whispered back in unison as you fell asleep on his chest almost immediately.
Fumikage looked around the room illuminated by the candlelight seeing all of the decorations that you had obviously put thought into how you put them together.
“Hey, Fumi?”
He looked down at Dark shadow.
“I really like him.”
Fumikage looked at your sleeping face and felt something in his chest swell at the sight.
He looked back at Dark shadow and smiled at him.
“Me too.”
“Can we stay with him forever?”
“We’ll stay with him as long as he is willing to let us.”
Fumikage ran his fingers through your hair gently scratching your scalp. The action made you sigh and shift more into his grasp.
“Go to bed dark shadow, when we wake we can spend as much time as I know you want to with him.”
Dark shadow simply hummed and hugged you tighter.
Fumikage closed his eyes and sighed.
When he wakes, he will show you how much this meant to him.
How much you meant to him.
And with that he let your warmth and rhythmic breathing lull him into slumber.
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heyitmelexie · 3 years
Text
Falling In Love
Din Djarin x riduur!F!Reader
Word count: 3444 Warnings: mention of wounds and blood Rating: Teen and up
A/N: Day 9 of the December Writing Challenge by @honeymandos​! ❤️
This was also my first time ever writing for Din!
I know it’s late but I’m currently pretty occupied with uni etc. Hope you enjoy anyway!!  ❤️
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The sweet smell of Bantha-butter pancakes tickles your nose and pulls you from your peaceful slumber.
As you open your eyes you see soft beams of sunshine creep through the window, illuminating your exposed legs and bathing them in warmth.
You smile and stretch, hearing the sizzling noise of the pancakes coming from the kitchen, accompanied by soft talking, gentle coos and occasionally one or the other clank.
The door is slightly ajar, but you can still see the domestic scene playing in the other room.
Din, in only his pants and with his hair still mussed, stands with his broad back turned to you. He’s making breakfast while quietly talking to your little green son, who sits on the counter right next to him. You see his ears occasionally perk up, followed by coos and little giggles, making you smile.
“Look, now you flip it. Just like this” you hear Din say, before (you assume) he tries to flip it with the pan. You expect to hear the loud sizzling again, indicating that the uncooked side of the pancake landed safely back in the pan. Instead, you hear a dull splash, like a wet fish falling onto tiles, followed by strings of curses coming from Din and a loud, hearty laugh from that little womp rat.
You laugh softly at that, getting out of bed to make your way into the kitchen.
Upon hearing your laugh coming from behind him, Din turns and looks at you, a sheepish smile playing on his flustered face.
“I hope I didn’t wake you, cyare” he says before quickly cleaning up the mess he made.
“Not really. I woke up from the smell of my favourite breakfast” you hum, before kissing your son’s wrinkly little head. He coos happily and then stretches out his arms to make grabby hands at you. You chuckle softly and then proceed to pick him up. He immediately snuggles against you, one of his little claws clutching onto your shirt.
Din smiles, before gently kissing your lips and then continuing to make the breakfast.
You take the time to go outside into your little garden with the child in your arms.
The sun immediately engulfs you in its warm light and you lay down in the soft grass between the flower beds. The little one moves to get comfortable on top of you, snuggling into your chest and cooing contently.
You smile at him and gently caress his big ears.
Din and you had built this little hut on Naboo together just about a year ago, finally deciding to partially settle down and have a somewhat quiet life. He would occasionally still go on a few hunts to get some credits for the three of you while you would stay home with the child. He would always make sure to not stay away for too long. Din had gotten really used to this simple life with you.
As you now lay there in the grass, admiring yours and Din’s handiwork, you think back to how you two met.
And what had made you realize that you had deeply fallen for this beskar-clad warrior (and honestly sometimes tin can dumb bitch of a man).
You grew up in a very small village that was hidden in the lush forests of Naboo. People there were kind and caring, always helping each other and even going so far as helping out strangers that desperately needed the help.
And that’s what had led to meeting him.
*
You were some sort of healer for the people of your village. Mixing concoctions, ointments, bacta gels, etc. Taking care of wounded and ill people. They trusted you with their lives and that had filled you with a great sense of pride.
One day, while you were collecting herbs in your little garden, you could hear a loud commotion coming from the marketplace. The noise steadily grew louder until five people stormed in, carrying a person covered head to toe in fabrics and metal, that was bleeding profusely from a deep wound in their lower abdomen. A pool of blood was very quickly forming on the floor and then on the bed once they put the person on it.
You dropped everything you held and rushed inside, immediately starting to cut off the fabric from around the wound to get better access to it, not even thinking about removing the armour and pants. You knew what that would mean.
You had heard about Mandalorians before. Strangers come and go; they spend most of their time at the small cantina. Many of them weren’t very social and would mostly just ignore the questions they were asked. But others, they would talk and then wouldn’t stop, much to the delight of the folks here.
That’s how one day you met a woman called Rook Cava.
She was unlike any other person you had ever met before. Just like this wounded person, she was covered in fabrics and metal armour, from head to toe. The specially shaped breast plate was the only certain physical indication for you that assured you she was a woman. The armour had been painted a very deep purple, the paint was already chipping away here and there. On the helmet, around the visor, there were golden, intricate symbols. She was mysterious and, even though you had no idea what she looked like, you thought she was breathtakingly beautiful.
She emitted such strength and power. The armour made her look bulky, but the fabric underneath laid snug against her skin and you saw her biceps. She wasn’t bulky, no, she was strong and muscular. You had never seen a woman like her before. She rendered you speechless and at the same time there were so many questions you wanted to ask her. But you didn’t want to overwhelm her, so you kept these questions to yourself.
So instead, you let her rest for a bit, she had obviously been travelling for a long time before taking a break on Naboo.
Rook was a step ahead of you though because the next morning she knocked at your door. She explained that she needed a few ointments and new bacta gel for the next few weeks of her travels and that everyone had told her to go seek you out for that.
Without hesitation you had let her in, offering her a seat and something to drink which she politely declined.
You sat in comfortable silence for a bit, while you collected the things she needed and also freshly mixed some of them so she could take a bigger amount with her.
Rook noticed that you held back your questions, always glancing at her, at her armour. She smiled under the helmet, amused and also astonished that you hadn’t drowned her in your questions yet.
She slightly shook her head in amusement and leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms behind her head.
“What do you wanna know?”
Your head snaps up to look at her, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. Her question had caught you off guard and she had laughed at your shocked reaction, heat creeping to your cheeks in embarrassment.
“It’s fine. I know I’m not a very common sight. Go ahead, ask your questions” she said, her voice warm and friendly. The complete opposite from her fierce appearance.
“Uhmm… what exactly are you?” ‘What exactly are you?!’ You wanted to slap yourself across the face for such a stupid question. But Rook didn’t seem to mind.
“I’m a Mandalorian. Have you ever heard of those?” You shook your head no at that and she nodded, showing you that she understood.
“To be clear, a Mandalorian is not a race. It’s a creed. You can be born by Mandalorian parents and grow up to become one yourself, or you could be a foundling. Those are children who lose their families at a very young age. They can be taken in by Mandalorians so they have a home and protection. They will grow up and become warriors as well, they will swear the oath. They will live their lives in anonymity, protecting their creed.”
You let that sink in and crush the herbs in your little bowl. Your eyebrows furrow and you take in her armour again.
“Anonymity… What exactly do you mean by that? I mean, I know your name. So, that isn’t very… anonym, is it?” She smiles, but you can’t see it.
“I decided to go by my name because I was just tired of everyone calling me Mando. I hated it. Some of my kind decide to keep their names to themselves, only revealing them to their loved ones and children. Others, like me, are okay with sharing that information. And, by the way, do people check if the name is real anyway?” You laugh at that. She was right. She could tell everyone a made-up name and they would believe it. Nobody checks.
“But, unless you are the wife of a Mandalorian, you will never be able to put a face to that name. We don’t reveal our faces to anyone but our families. If a Mandalorian takes off the helmet in front of another living thing, the Creed would be soiled, the oath you swore - broken. And we are nothing without our Creed. It’s our religion, it’s sacred, holy. It’s what makes us who we are. And we will kill anyone who tries to take that from us.”
“Is that why you declined the water? And why you asked for the food to be brought to your room last night, so you wouldn’t have to eat in the cantina? Because you can’t take off your helmet?”
She just nodded and you hummed in response, thinking about your next question.
“What happens when you get hurt and someone has to access, let’s say, your thigh. Do you just have to risk dying or are others allowed to see other parts of your body?”
She seemed to think about that for a moment, trying to come up with a good answer.
“Technically we aren’t allowed to show any part of our body to anyone. But wounds are, let’s say, a little loophole. If the wound is dangerous and could possibly kill me, then we can let them assess it. Let’s take your example.” She taps one of her thigh plates.
“If I had an awful wound on my thigh that I couldn’t take care of alone and would need help with, I can take off my thigh plate. You can’t take off my pants but you can cut a hole into the fabric so you can access the wound properly. You couldn’t see much of my skin. My Creed would be intact and you can save my life.” A loophole.
This brings you back to your current situation.
“You need to take off his armour! And his clothes! How can you dress his wound like that?” one of the villagers says, not understanding why you just cut a whole into that person’s pants.
You assumed it was a man, his shoulders seemed to be too broad for a woman and his chest plate was quite flat.
“I can take care of his wound like that just fine” you say, telling them what you needed in order to close and disinfect the wound.
It took you a bit over an hour until you had finally finished stitching it up and wrapping gauze around his thigh.
He still wouldn’t move; the blood loss must have weakened him. You had checked his pulse just to be sure he was still alive and then bundled him up into blankets
Just when you finished cleaning the blood stains and tidying the room, he jolted awake, startling you.
He quickly scanned the room before pulling the blankets off of him and attempting to stand up. You saw his knees buckle slightly and rushed over to steady him, carefully pushing him back onto the bed.
“You need to lie down and rest for a while. You lost a lot of blood” you told him, getting him a glass of water and digging out a straw from your drawers.
You held the glass out for him to take but his visor was focused on your face.
“Who are you? Where am I?” His rough and rather deep voice sent a shiver down your smile that you tried to suppress. You just smiled and told him your name, gently pushing the glass into his hand but he didn’t drink yet, still looking at you.
“You’re on Naboo. A few hours ago you were brought to me because you had a very nasty wound on your abdomen, bleeding like mad. I took care of it, but you need to rest or the stitches will break open again and you’ll risk an infection. And you need to drink” you say, pushing the glass a bit closer towards his face.
When you turn around to put the trash away, he tucks the straw under his helmet and quickly empties the glass. He’s relieved to notice that he immediately feels a bit less lightheaded and puts the glass on the little table before lying back down. For some odd reason he feels like he can trust you.
“I didn’t take off your armour or your clothes. And especially not your helmet, so don’t worry. I must admit though that I put my hand under your helmet as best as I could to see if there would be any blood. But I looked away while I did that, I promise. I know it’s forbidden” you turned back to him, a gentle smile on your face.
“I… Okay. Thank you.”
You felt relief wash over you, glad you hadn’t somehow done anything wrong or harmful, internally thanking the Force for sending Rook your way those few years ago.
The Mandalorian spent about a week at your house, resting and healing.
You had learned that he was hunting a bounty and somehow they had managed to ambush him. The wound on his leg was caused by a warspear the bounty had rammed into his thigh in a moment of inadvertence.
Din had to admit to himself that he… liked you. You were kind and caring. You weren’t one of those people that would ask him when the last time was he took off the helmet or if he’d ever taken it off in front of someone else. None of your questions or conversations were focused on his appearance or his life, which he was very grateful for. He trusted you, but he didn’t want to share such private information with someone he didn’t know well enough.
You simply took care of his wound, made him drink enough water and you would leave him alone whenever he needed to eat.
Not even the conversations with you felt awkward.
You willingly told him about your upbringing, what you had done so far in your life and you also told him about your encounter with Rook Cava.
He knew that he was lucky you had this knowledge of his Creed. What if you hadn’t known it and would have taken off his helmet? He figured that he must have killed the whole village then in order to somehow keep his Creed intact… That thought sends a shiver through his body, once again he felt lucky that he ended up in your care.
When he felt stronger and healthier again, ready to leave Naboo behind, the thought of you sitting in his co-pilot chair flashes through his mind.
He didn’t want to leave you. He didn’t know why, but he wanted you to come with him and stay by his side.
‘I just need someone with her skills’ is what he tells himself.
And when he asked you to come with him, he was surprised at how quickly you said yes, agreeing to leave your home behind to travel through the galaxy with him.
As much as you loved the village, you really wanted to see other parts of the galaxy. So you quickly said your goodbyes and packed your things. You were excited to start this new chapter.
You ended up staying and travelling with him for the following 6 years, before you settled down last year.
During this time, your little green rascal became a part of your family, making you a clan of three. That filled Din with great pride and whenever he looked at his little clan, he felt happy and warm. You two were his entire galaxy and he would make sure that nothing ever happened to you.
One evening, you two had been ‘dating’ for about two years now, the kid was sleeping in his pram and you sat on his lap in the pilot chair, his arms around you. You had asked him a question that had floated through your mind for quite a while.
“When did you know you loved me?” You stared out of the windows, the stars just streaks of light during hyperspace. Din stopped caressing your back for a moment and seemed to think about this.
“Pretty sure it was the first time you smiled at me” he said, making you laugh softly and swat his chest.
“Sure thing, shiny” you giggled, making him smile at you under the helmet.
He held you closer to him and leaned his helmet against your shoulder.
“I think it was the moment I realized I couldn’t leave Naboo without you” he said, continuing to caress your back. “That whole week, you took great care of me and I’ve never felt this comfortable around anyone outside of my tribe before. For whatever reason I trusted you right from the beginning. That first smile you flashed me, if I didn’t already sit I would have probably had to sit down. I never felt like this before I met you. Your presence was calming and kind of made me giddy. I don’t know how to describe it…” You smiled and pressed a kiss to the side of his helmet.
“Like butterflies fluttering inside you? The constant urge to smile?” He thought about it for a moment and then nodded. Grateful for his helmet covering his face because he was sure it was just as red as a tomato.
“The thought of leaving without you, it… it kind of hurt. I was imagining you sitting in my co-pilot chair while I would fly. I even dreamed about you… Back then, I didn’t know I was in love with you. I had never loved anyone this way before. You changed my whole life. To the better. I thought I would die alone. No family, no friends, nothing. But then you strut into my life with that stupid little smile of yours and you gave me hope.”
Your chest swells with pride at his confession, warmth spreading throughout your whole body.
You gave him hope. Home. A family, even before this little womp rat waddled into your life. You made the love of your life believe in a happy ending for himself and that was more than you could ever ask for.
“But what about you, cyar’ika? When did you know you loved me?” he asked, while gently putting a hand on your thigh.
“I think it was the first time I saw you straddle that speederbike back on Tatooine. That was pretty hot.”
He laughed at that, gently squeezing your bum and tutted.
“You are unbelievable.”
*
You didn’t realize you fell asleep again until a gentle hand shakes you awake. Your eyes flutter open and you look right into the face of your riduur. He smiles at you and kisses your nose, making you giggle before you gently kiss him.
After a moment he slowly breaks the kiss and sits next to you in the grass, a big plate full of pancakes in front of him and a bottle of chee-chee berry syrup in his hand.
Before you can sit up, the kid scrambles off your chest and goes to launch himself at the plate of pancakes, but Din is quicker. He scoops him into his arms and then puts him into his lap.
“They’re for all of us, ad’ika” he softly tuts, before taking a pancake and slowly tearing it into little pieces to feed him.
You smile and sit up, pressing a kiss to your riduur’s cheek and one to your son’s head.
The Force had blessed you with such a beautiful little family. And soon there would be another little one moving and kicking inside of you. But you had yet to tell your lover.
--------------------------------
@absurdthirst​ @dindjarindiaries​ @tangledlove27​
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kpoptrashlord-007 · 3 years
Text
Flour Cheeks;; YHS
Word Count;; 1.6k
Genre;; Fluff Overload!
Pairing;; Hongseok x Reader
Summary;;
While you understand that some mornings you'll wake up alone, your curiosity does get the better of you when you realise your boyfriend has chosen to leave the comfort of your shared bed despite not needing to. It's warm, fluffy, and soft and filled with the possibilities of additional dreaming and yet you soon find yourself also being drawn away from its comforts.
Request;;
Hiii! Can I please request something fluffy with Pentagon's Hongseok? Maybe cooking him and y/n cooking and being all cute? Thank you!! <333​
Warnings;;
None!
Notes;;
I remember him cooking well in one of his lives so I went to look for it and found the waffle incident instead ahsjjdkfkg. Also sorry I took longer than I said I would! Our parents stopped by while we were doing our laundry and I didn't have time to write like I thought I would. Hope you enjoy this all the same and...
Happy late birthday to our Honk Honk! ♡
My Masterlist
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   Sunlight streamed in through the curtain's gap to cover the duvet in splashes of yellow and white. It brightened the room, forcing you to squint while you checked your phone's notifications. With a huff, you tossed the device back onto the bedside table and closed your eyes once more.
   It was getting late. The sun was high in the sky as if to taunt you for your laziness and the room warmed beneath its abundant rays. You soon found yourself kicking the bedding clear off the mattress as you flipped over and away from the window.
   Due to the lack of your boyfriend's firm chest to stop you from invading his side of the bed, your initial roll was followed by another, more exaggerated flop. Spreading your limbs with a strained sigh, you once again tried opening your eyes. The room was still bright but you pushed through the searing discomfort to search for Hongseok.
   Though the bathroom door was only propped open by a sliver, the lack of light and movement was enough for you to write it off as empty. The bedroom itself provided a similar scene: devoid of Hongseok but with small clues as to his whereabouts. His house shoes were moved but his phone was still on the charger. The dresser hadn't closed all the way, catching on one of his shirts. He had been in a rush and yet he hadn't dressed to go out, having grabbed clothes from the casual section of his wardrobe.
   You chuckled and shook your head. Whatever had been on his mind wasn't important enough to wake you up and you were grateful for the additional rest. Stretching once again, you pushed the remainder of the bedding off with a yawn before curling up into a ball.
   His side of the bed smelled like him (surprise, surprise) and you enjoyed the mornings when you could sleep in after he left almost as much as the mornings you woke up beside him. You pushed your face into his pillow and sighed. His body wash and shampoo flooded your senses. It was comforting and it made you feel safe because he made you feel safe.
   You inhaled breath by breath, drifting off to sleep until the soothing scent of Hongseok dissipated and was replaced by the strong, undesirable scent of burning. Your eyes snapped open a step slower than your body that had already slid out of bed. Without stopping to grab your shoes or to throw on pants, you fumbled out of your shared bedroom.
   The apartment wasn't huge and it didn't take long for your legs that were in pursuit of the smoke to stumble into the kitchen. Inside you took note of your handsome boyfriend wearing that ridiculous apron you had bought him as a gag gift for his last birthday. Flour graced his tanned cheeks and you fought back a laugh, biting your lip to keep yourself silent. His expression was both serious and exasperated while he observed the steady pillar of smoke escaping the miniature waffle maker.
   "If you make it too obvious, the insurance won't pay out," you teased. His eyes latched onto your form, lingering on your bare thighs that peeked out from beneath his oversized shirt. A grin formed on his lips as he beckoned you to his side. You were quick to oblige. "So what's up? Making breakfast?"
   "Good morning beautiful. I can't answer any questions until I have a kiss." He tapped his cheek twice. Powder still marked them. You leaned around him to grab a kitchen towel and you found it through memory rather than sight, your gaze focused and locked onto his. Though he tapped his foot in impatience, he was smiling and mischief shone in his eyes.
   The cloth wasn't the softest material so you were cautious of how much pressure you exerted on his soft skin. It wasn't until you pulled away to admire your handiwork that you noticed the towel (and most of the surfaces nearby) was also covered in flour and your attempt to wipe away the powder had only created a bigger smudge. Your whole body trembled with the bottled-up laughter brewing deep in your chest. "What? What's so funny?"
   "You're covered in flour, baby." You managed to force the words out before you let loose and your laugh filled every corner of the room. Hongseok frowned and turned away from you, focusing his attention back on the waffle maker. At least it was no longer smoking. Next to the appliance was a plate of… something you couldn't quite identify. "And what the hell is that?"
   "What? That? You can't tell? It's clearly a waffle. And here I thought you were cultured," he said, his voice strained as he tried to pry the appliance open. Upon noticing the secured latch, you nudged him aside and popped the lock before flipping the lid open. Out of instinct his arms wrapped around your waist and yanked you back away from the billow of steam that rushed upward out of the small machine.
   "What's the point of using the waffle maker if it doesn't make waffles?" He whined, resting his head on your shoulder.
   "Did it make that"—distaste crossed your face as you gestured toward the plate of goop—"mess too?"
   "No, I tried… it doesn't matter. The last resort is the other waffle maker."
   "Or maybe we should stop now while we're only at two losses?"
   "I'm a man who never gives up, baby. You know this."
   Hongseok flashed you a grin, his eyes sparkling with determination as he cleared the counter. While his attention was on whipping up another batch of mixture, you decided to clean up his prior attempts. You scraped off the goo from the plate and ran it under hot water while you disconnected the miniature waffle maker and waited for it to cool down enough to soak the inner dish. The dishes stacked up in the sink and the small tower of plastic threatened to collapse like a Jenga tower when you added the last powder bowl Hongseok had discarded to the top.
   "So what's the special occasion?"
   "Are you kidding or do you owe me a massage?"
   A massage? That could only mean-
   Shoot!
   "I was just kid-"
   "Looks like my honey bunny owes me a massage! What a great start to our anniversary!"
   "But I didn't forget!"
   "Nah uh. I said the same thing last year, I was in the same boat, and you didn't go easy on me so I don't think I'll go easy on you, either."
   "Hongseokkie," you pouted, jutting out your lips as you pulled on his arm. Your mind wandered when he flexed under your grasp, his muscles toned and strong. His efforts at the gym never went unnoticed. He continued his attempt to mix the blueberries and bananas into batter, oblivious to how your gaze devoured him. "I didn't forget."
   "If I say I believe you, will you give me a massage anyway?"
   "Maybe."
   "Well I don't believe you."
   You scoffed, a playful smile pulling at the corners of your mouth, "Alright, alright. Fine, I forgot, and you'll get your massage as owed. Now will you please abandon this futile waffle mission? We can just have our usual instead. Nothing beats healthy, anyway."
   "Abandon as in give up? Who do you think I am? I'm going to make you the best damn waffles, just you watch."
   "Right, right. Of course. And I'll try not to starve in the meantime."
   He ignored your comment and focused on pouring the batter into the second waffle maker. This one was bigger, at least in comparison to the miniature maker. The miniature (theoretically) baked bite-sized waffles with little snowflakes on them. This regular-sized and completely average waffle maker had no special gimmick. It was straight-forward and easy to use.
   Except that it wasn't.
   Once Hongseok's pride diminished just enough to summon you back into the kitchen, you found yourself also struggling to make a single waffle that could pass as a waffle. None of your creations were recognisable as a breakfast treat. Some weren't even recognisable as food. Several plates of "waffles" had built up, each featuring varying degrees of baked all the way from gooey to charred. Your solo attempts hadn't fared any better.
   "Can we give up yet?"
   "No." He grabbed a piece of overcooked waffle from the maker and frowned. Half of the batter was close to burning while the other half was still liquid. With great caution, he nibbled on it. The regret was immediate. He thrusted it in your direction. "Try this."
   "Gross," you said, pretending to gag. He took the opportunity to shove the waffle piece into your mouth. You swatted him away seconds too late. He laughed, dodging your flailing hits. Though crunchy and quite dry, the waffle wasn't actually that bad. It could be worse, you thought, eyeing the discarded plates. Much worse.
   "So…"
   "So…" you echoed. When he didn't continue, you nudged his slumped shoulder. His expression screamed disappointment upon looking at the numerous attempts which then morphed into irritation as he glared at the appliance and its lustrous shine. Despite the abundance of use it had undergone over the last few hours, it looked brand new and somehow clean. "While this has been quite the adventure, should we settle down with some oatmeal and relax?"
   "You want to give up?"
   "On the waffles? Yes. I'd rather cuddle with you than fight with this clearly defective waffle maker."
   "Waffle makers," he empathised, glaring over at the abandoned miniature version.
   "If nothing else, we've created a memory that will last a lifetime and I can't think of a better gift to receive on our very special day."
   "I can think of something." You knew by his cheeky grin just what he planned to do and before he even raised his finger, you began to lean into his space. He pointed at his cheek all the same and awaited your kiss. Once again you laughed at his cute antics but this time you followed it up with a kiss.
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