chicken pasta something

anonymous asked:

angela flusters fareeha

It’s not often that Angela cooks. Rarely does she have the time, and even if she did, it would require her to stop working long enough to register she was hungry. A bad habit, she knows, and sets a daily timer for reminders to make sure she’s eating healthily. How would it look if Overwatch’s resident medic didn’t take care of herself like she instructs others to do? 

Still, sometimes the notion grips her, a desire for pasta or chicken or something other than the microwaved delicacies she usually indulges. She’s in the kitchen, reaching down for a pot to boil water, when Fareeha walks in. Usually, when Angela’s in the kitchen, the smell of coffee brewing follows her. Not this time, however, and Fareeha, curious, steps closer. She rounds the counter and nearly collides with Angela’s ass. Round and in the air as the medic searches beneath the cabinet. Fareeha’s hands fling up and outward, a spastic motion to keep her from gripping Angela’s ass instead, and she backs up several paces, bumping into a chair. 

The ponytail turns, and Fareeha catches a blue eye watching her curiously, the profile of a smile. “Hello, Fareeha. Care for some spaghetti?” 

“Uh,” Fareeha blinks and regains herself. She’s not that hungry, but nods anyway, eager for the pleasure of Angela’s company. Angela straightens with the pot, and slides it under the sink. The spray of the water catches the rim of the pot and splashes Angela’s face. Fareeha grabs the pot to adjust as Angela laughs and steps back. 

“Goodness. This is why I don’t cook often.” 

Fareeha smiles over at her and is caught off guard by the droplets of water running down Angela’s jawline. It drips slowly from her chin, onto her white shirt which is dappled with  clear spots. A few rivulets run into her cleavage and Fareeha clears her throat as she looks away, reaching for a rag and extending it. Angela takes it, squeezing Fareeha’s fingers as she dries off. Fareeha knows her cheeks are vibrant, radiating heat. Her fingers itch to touch and she keeps eyeing the doorway to her bunk as if it will make something happen. Angela is gorgeous, always has been. But as they’ve grown closer it’s becoming harder and harder not to notice certain…aspects. Aspects that Fareeha finds incredibly attractive despite her soldier’s will. 

She doesn’t quite register Angela pulling the pot from her hands. Only the swell of Angela’s generous ass as she turns, and the taper of her waist. Fareeha blinks and looks away politely when Angela turns back around, only to be beckoned again by her soft voice.

“Fareeha.”

Fareeha’s eyes lift, and she finds Angela leaning back against the counter, giving her a playful look. “You can look. I like when you do.”

Fareeha’s eyes widen, head shaking automatically as she tries to find an excuse for her actions. But Angela simply chuckles and saunters over, placing her arms around her neck. Finding that Fareeha somewhat resembles a fish, Angela places a finger under her chin and closes her gaping mouth. Fareeha’s eyes are everywhere at once, looking, wanting, desiring, and Angela tilts her head. 

“Have you heard the phrase a watched pot never boils?”

“I-I, uh, yeah.”

“Good. So we must keep ourselves distracted so we don’t look over there.” She juts her chin to the stove. 

“Oh. Okay.”

“Do you have any suggestions.”

“Um, suggest–oh. Um.” Fareeha laughs nervously, dipping her head. Her brain has lost the ability to think, mouth to speak. Angela is too close, smells to good, feels too wonderful. And her laugh is music when she giggles again, fingers tracing the back of Fareeha’s neck.

“Well, come over here, and we’ll see if I can’t give you some ideas.” 

Still dumbfounded, Fareeha obeys. 

CONOR’S DATE - a Conor Maynard imagine

Conor was leaving tomorrow morning for his tour. It would be your last chance to spend time with him for a few months. Even though it saddened you, you were determined for it to be a lovely night. He had gone out for the afternoon with all the boys and so, you decided to make a dinner for the both of you when he got back. You hadn’t told him that you had planned this and that made you excited. He probably wouldn’t end up staying out too late, you had reasoned, especially with his early morning scheduled. Hence, why you had thought a dinner would be the perfect, small surprise for him.

Arriving at his shared apartment, you used the spare hidden key to let yourself in. When you got in, you immediately set about cooking. You had decided to make a simple chicken pasta (something Conor would like) and make enough for the rest of the guys too, who would be sure to come around as well. Even if they didn’t all come back afterwards, there would at least be enough for Josh and Jack for the next few days. You boiled some water for the spaghetti and chopped up the chicken and some vegetables. As you did cook, you danced around the kitchen to your current favourite playlist. Cooking to music was definitely made it a lot more fun, considering you were on your own.

Your phone buzzed on the countertop and you saw that there was a text from Conor. He told you about what the guys and he were doing; chilling and a bit of fooling around on camera. You replied as you normally would, not saying anything about what you had organised, though in hindsight, it would have been a wiser move.

When the food was done, you went to ready the dining table. You decided to just set it up for the two of you and that the other boys could eat at the couch or in their rooms. You set out some cutlery and some glasses of water. You also pulled out one of the nicer smelling candles that the guys had and lit it, placing it between where you would both sit at the end of the table. It was a cute little placement and you were proud with your efforts. It neared 8 o’clock and was around the time Conor was meant to return to pack his bag. In preparation, you heated up two servings of the pasta and laid it on the table. You then switched all the lights off (leaving the candle) and sat in your eat at the table. You would be ready for him, when he returned.

Half an hour passed. Then an hour. Waiting and being patient was difficult; it was tempting knowing that you could ring him to tell him to come home. Reasons as to why he was late would flood your mind; maybe he was just helping out one of the guys with something or maybe something was wrong or maybe he was just late as usual. But you withheld, determined that your surprise would work.

The next thing you knew, someone was nudging you awake. You must have fallen asleep waiting.

“Y/N?”

You blearily wiped your eyes and looked up to see Conor standing beside you, house keys in hand. It all hit you again, this was a surprise! How could you have fallen asleep?!

Jumping up, you exclaimed, “Surprise!”

He and the other guys (from a quick glance, it looked like the whole squad) laughed at your sudden outburst. It would have been hilarious seeing you, a sleepy girl suddenly jump from the chair.

“You did all this for me?” Conor asked, looking still genuinely shocked.

You nodded, “What time is it?”

He sheepishly replied, “Its just gone 11. I’m sorry, I wasn’t home earlier!”

You shook your head; you weren’t mad. It was your fault for not telling him anything at all. He did continue to look really apologetic though. It was quite endearing.

“If you’re still hungry, I’ll take the apology because otherwise all this food would have been for nothing!” Remembering that the other guys were there as well, you added, “I also made enough for you guys, too.”

Conor, after realising that you weren’t mad, scooped you into a warm hug. You softened into his embrace, relaxing almost immediately. Over his shoulder, you saw that the other guys had gone to start warming up their own portions of your pasta. As starved as you were, you didn’t want to move from this hug.

“Thank you,” Conor whispered. “This is really nice.”

You just smiled and leant into him more, “I’m going to miss you when you’re on tour. I just wanted to spend this last night with you.”

“I’m sorry, again, Y/N. I should have been back earlier.”

You shook your head on his chest.

He laughed before joking, “Well, you could have at least nudged me to come home earlier too. Or at least told Jack or Caspar or something.”

That made you laugh, Conor was never too serious for long and that was one of your favourite things about him. It would be something you would miss endlessly, but at least there was still this moment.

“Alright, should we go eat?” you asked, starting to pull away from him.

“NO! I’M NOT LETTING YOU GO,” he mockingly squealed, continuing his antics until Joe came over and pried him off you.

“Jesus, Conor. The poor girl has made all this for you and you’re not eating? Its amazing!” Joe muttered, walking back to the kitchen where the others were.

Part of the DATE series.
#jomiconsparackosholi

i havent had a home cooked meal in about a month, is this sad or?