#also it occurred to me the other day that the naturally occurring plate I would most want would be S291CLB

[ptn-imagines]

Hello hello!

An idea i had for some headcannons for Langley and F!chief is what if both of them were cats like in that one MBCC shit post from the official ptn acc

I think about that post a sane and normal amount. You can trust me. I'm normal about cats. Don't mind that I own eight or so of them.

Langley and F!Chief as cats

While Chief is a fluffy and affectionate nebelung cat, Langley is a sleek and elegant cream point Siamese.

Generally speaking, their personalities are stark contrasts. Chief is rarely if ever not seen with another cat, while Langley prefers to keep to herself. Window-sitting is her favorite hobby, staring out while she washes her paws in deep contemplation.

However, one thing they both have in common is that they’re both fiercely territorial. Neither of them like strange cats walking around without their permission, and both have their ways of dealing with intruders.

Of the pair, Chief is far more merciful. She’ll speak cordially with strangers at first, trying to warn them off with her words and body language, like the rattle of a rattlesnake. Even if they dismiss her warnings, she’s far more likely to chase them off through cunning rather than a fight.

On the other paw, if it’s gotten to the point where Langley is confronting an intruder, they’ve already been given their chance to get out and it went ignored. She’s not shy about using her teeth and claws and she has a penchant for striking from the shadows; often, the strange cat is sent fleeing from her territory with their tail between their legs, not even entirely sure of what just happened.

This naturally made the first meeting between Chief and Langley tense, as it occurred when Langley was trespassing on Chief’s territory. The smaller feline’s usual tactics of scaring off intruders didn’t work on this aloof cat, and she quickly realized that she had no chance of winning in a straight fight. So, Chief had no choice but to let Langley stay, hoping that her dominance over the other cats in the area was enough to keep it firmly cemented as her territory.

Of course, Chief kept a careful eye on Langley. She quickly came to realize that the Siamese brought a sort of controlled mischief with her – engaging in many of the typical “mischievous” behaviors of cats, such as knocking things off tables, clawing the furniture, and tracking toilet paper all over the house.

She was also a natural hunter, and Chief couldn’t help but notice all the stuffed mice were going missing. The audacity! Every single time she’d get more, it would take less than a week for them all to disappear, and she was sure Langley was taking them all! …Minus a few mice that were definitely being taken by Hella, OwO and similarly capricious kittens, but still.

Though, Chief had to admit she slightly envied Langley’s carefree-seeming lifestyle. She couldn’t remember her kittenhood at all and the last time she’d gotten up to mischief had been last month, on accident, when she missed a jump and sent a bunch of fragile china plates and cups crashing to the floor. She still felt guilty about that.

Still, over time, Chief began to see Langley as less of a tolerated intruder and more an informal member of the colony. Many cats in the area were still nervous around Langley, understandably so, and Chief couldn’t say she was exactly fond of it when Langley started bringing over members of her colony unannounced… but they were cordial and respectful enough, not like some of the other cats from the city Chief had the displeasure of dealing with, so she supposed it was alright.

Langley, meanwhile, is intrigued by Chief. For someone who’s so protective of her own territory and colony, she’s never had a problem with waltzing onto the territory of others if it suited her whims. Normally, the dominant cats of those territories buckle and fold within days, ceding to her, so she’s quite impressed with this young upstart who not only has the daring to stand up to her but the cunning and support to maintain her dominance. Chief has won Langley’s quiet respect, and she’s started to see Chief’s territory not exactly as an extension of her own, but certainly as an area she should protect like it was.

If she’s bringing over her colony members to help her deal with some unsavory types of cats on the borders that might threaten the Chief and her colony… Well, what Chief doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?

Not if Langley’s there, anyhow. And Langley has no intentions of leaving anytime soon.

[books]

Writing Workshop Week 3: Stories of a Place

Hello again, my very talented writers of tumblr! I can’t tell you how much I’ve enjoyed reading your work. I’ve seen such stellar craft happening, and I’m eager to see where you’ll take this next prompt.

In week 1, we focused on a single object. In week 2, we attended to the objects in our environment. This week, we’re considering the environment as a whole—setting.

One of the reasons I’ve chosen this order specifically, small to large, is because setting can become overwhelming. But last week we already practiced it in our real environments by observing our surroundings, and putting those details into our work. Setting is not as huge and amorphous as it may seem—when it comes down to it, setting is the interaction between character and place. Notice I didn’t say that setting is the place itself, and that’s because a place is meaningless without grounding it in the personal stakes of a character. It’s like walking around a grocery store and not putting anything in your cart. A setting only exists to hold its contents. 

Setting can refer to the largest and smallest of places: universe, galaxy, planet, continent, country, city, home, bedroom, pillow fort. Setting can also refer to time: millennium, century, decade, year, month, week, day, hour, minute, second. 

In writing, not all of these things have to be defined, nor should they. The difficulty in setting is the negotiation between our lived reality—in which we have all of this information at all times—and the restrictive nature of writing, in which we not only control all these variables, but we also have to organize and convey them. In reality, events can occur simultaneously. You can drop a plate at the same time you get a text message. But in writing, even if those things happen at the same time in the lived reality of your character, you have to convey the plate dropping and then the phone vibrating in consecutive sentences, linked usually by the word “simultaneously.” Your reader then retroactively crafts those moments happening at once in their memory, but there is a brief moment between those two details where the reader knows the plate has dropped but not that the phone will vibrate. Just as a film is restricted to the width of a camera’s lens, writing is restricted to the sentence. As immersive as writing can be, it is still always a constructed thing.

When it comes to setting, you not only have control over all these details, you also have to figure out the order of information those details are conveyed. Which brings me to…

Decision Fatigue

One of the reasons people think fanfiction is “easier” than original fiction is because there are fewer decisions to make. You have an established universe to play in and so you don’t have to pull up a name generator to figure out the name of your protagonist, or however you make those choices. But that’s not true—fanfiction requires a different type of decision-making and therefore a different (but equally difficult) skill set of creative thinking. The analogy I like to use is a playground versus a beach. On a playground, the equipment is already there, but you can use it however you want. On a beach, you have to decide what to bring with you. One is not inherently better than the other. It’s all play. 

I say this because I’ve coached a lot of writers who are transitioning from fanfiction to original fiction. It can be jarring to go from the playground to a beach. And so I see a lot of writers succumb to decision fatigue—the exhaustion of creativity. You have to decide what kind of car your character drives, how old they are, where they live, what they do for a living, their relationships, the conflicts of those relationships, their educational background, and so on. Creativity is making decisions. And that’s why it’s hard.

Relevance

I would argue that setting is the most difficult series of decisions to make. Our entry into a new piece is generally a character, a premise, or an image. Or, as we say on Tumblr, we put a guy in situations. That guy’s environment will affect him and his situations, because that environment will either help or hinder him in some way. A meet-cute, for example, is nearly always related to setting.

I remember doing my first generative workshop on setting. It sent me into a spiral I couldn’t climb out of for four years. The spiral was this:

All narratives, even narrative poems (as opposed to lyrical), exist in a time and place, and the author has control of those factors. The more specific those details are, the stronger the story becomes. The specificity of those details is rendered in imagery. Ergo, I have to develop my imagery.

And now I’m going to tell you the result of that line of thinking so you don’t fall into the same trap: I wrote a totally unpublishable novel. It was too long and not very interesting, and both of those things happened because I was more dedicated to developing my setting than my story. 

Although that was great practice, it kind of sucked to spend an entire year working on something only to put it in a drawer and never look at it again. What pulled me out of the spiral was dedicating myself to narration—I decided I was only obligated to describe that which my narrator observed. And because I didn’t want to bother with setting anymore, I made a character who was totally oblivious.

(We’ll be looking at narration next week.)

I began to view the setting through a character rather than around a character. My narrator was narrow-focused and obsessive, so I was only obligated to write that which came into the one-lane bridge of her attention. In other words, I only wrote what was relevant to her. And the only thing that was relevant to her was the object of her fixation. 

The big caveat here is that a story isn’t always obligated to its narrator. That’s a choice I’ve made for my own work, because I’m interested in narrators and the development of voice. My prose will never be beautiful or floral. I’ll never have the patience to lovingly describe what it’s like to live in Ohio. I’ll probably only ever write a character who has driven past the HELL IS REAL sign a dozen times and who maybe has strong opinions on corn. It’s the best way I can find to help me avoid the decision fatigue of building an entire world. 

Prompt time!

For this week’s activity, I’d like you to think of a place you really love. This can be your home town or the house where you grew up or wherever has brought you joy. (Remember: love inspires.) 

Next, I’d like you to write 3 facts of public information and 3 facts of private information about that place. 

Public information is anything that can be found, either by researching the place or visiting it. This could be factual—population, square footage, location. It could also involve community knowledge, like legends, cultures, or customs. It can also include major historical events. If you were to show this place to a total stranger, what would you tell them about it? This part may require some research. 

Private information is what can’t be known by anyone but you (and maybe the people who were there with you). This includes memories you have of the place, secrets, unknown histories; anything that can’t be understood unless you have intimate knowledge of the place or lived there during a particular moment. 

For example, when I taught in the South, I had a lot of students who had lived through Hurricane Katrina. They were all young children at the time. When I had them do this activity, many of them chose to list facts that anyone could find about New Orleans in August of 2005—that there were over 1300 casualties, that Katrina was a Category 5 hurricane. They also shared things that no one else could know, about their families housing total strangers whose homes were destroyed, about living for days or even weeks without electricity. About why their parents chose to stay rather than leave, or leave rather than stay. About loved ones who had died.

Once you have your 6 things, I’d like you to write a piece based on them. Here are some ways you can approach it:

If you want to write nonfiction, tell the story of one of your private pieces of information.

If you want to write fiction, write a story using at least one of the public pieces of information. For example, you can tell the story of a legend, or make a legend up. Or you could do something similar to what we did last week, where you take those three pieces of information and weave them in.

If you want to write a poem, try to capture the sense of place by using one or more pieces of information, either private or public.

If you want to write something experimental, write a story about a piece of private information from the perspective of the place itself. 

You don’t have to share your 6 things (unless you want to). While you’re writing, note the details that emerge naturally while drafting, what becomes relevant to the story versus what doesn’t. Like our previous prompts, allow yourself to lean into associative thinking and make connections with your memories.

Questions? Ask ‘em here before EOD Tuesday so @bettsfic can answer them on Wednesday. And remember to tag your work #tumblr writing workshop with betts if you want her to read your work and possibly feature it on Friday!

And, for those just joining us: @bettsfic is running a writing workshop on @books this month. Want to know more? Start here.

[frozen-snowflakesandsunflowers]

Frozen: Forces of Nature Podcast

Everything we know so far:

So as we all know and have been talking about for the past few days, there's a newly announced podcast called 'Frozen: Forces of Nature'. The podcast will tell a cannon story set after Frozen 2 and before Frozen 3. The podcast is going to be a 12 part series, 15 - 20 minutes each episode and this will be season 1. The story will feature two new characters; Queen Disa of Sankerhus and Wolfgang is the Duke of Weselton's nephew. It is set to release in October ahead of the 10th anniversary of the franchise (and the first movie). The plot goes as follows:

'The series follows Queen Anna, who has a lot on her plate – there are visitors in her Kingdom, a friend in need, and even the Duke of Weselton’s nephew skulking around – so when the Spirits of Nature start acting up, she knows she has to solve the problem – and fast – before things get more out of control. But when Anna and Elsa travel to the Enchanted Forest, they find mysterious copper machines that are disrupting the natural order of things. Who made these machines and what are they doing in the forest? And more importantly, how do Anna and Elsa stop them?'

In other official sources, they've given a little more detail about the events going on:

'Queen Anna has a lot on her plate. She has welcomed Disa, the Queen of the small neighboring nation and her people to Arendelle when their kingdom is flooded. Disa is eager to learn about the scientific nature of magic.

Also in Arendelle is Lord Wolfgang, the Duke of Weselton’s nephew, on an apology tour for his uncle’s behavior. He very much wants to secure Queen Anna’s forgiveness and hopes to convince the people of Arendelle of the merits of trade with Weselton.

When a mysterious fire happens at the castle and the Spirits of Nature start acting up Elsa, Anna, and Disa travel to the Enchanted Forest to uncover the cause, where they discover mysterious steam-powered copper machines: automatons.

Where do the automatons come from and what are they doing? Who is directing them? Most importantly, how do Elsa, Anna, and Disa stop them from upsetting the natural balance of the Enchanted Forest and Arendelle?'

So let's point out the key things here and other information in other official sources too:

- Anna is feeling the pressure of being Queen so far, which for me is no surprise given she wasn't prepared to be Queen so soon.

- The Duke of Weselton's nephew, Wolfgang is visiting Arendelle to apologize to Elsa and Anna on behalf of his uncle for the things he did in Frozen and restore the trading relationship of Weselton with Arendelle

- Queen Disa's Kingdom, Sankerhus, is flooded (most likely due to chaos in the forest) and hence she and her people temporarily move to Arendelle

- Sankerhus is one of the neighbouring Kingdoms of Arendelle, like the Southern Isles

- Queen Disa is intrigued by the "scientific nature of magic"

- A mysterious fire occurs in Arendelle castle which causes the spirits to go wild causing Elsa, Anna and Disa to travel to the Enchanted Forest where they discover steam - powered, copper machines called automatons

- The person who created these machines will most likely be revealed in the podcast

Some of you may be wondering why a podcast? Why not an official novel/ book? Why not a short? I was wondering the same thing when this was first announced. I had mixed feelings on this too. But the more I read posts and the more I thought about it the more I started seeing why the story was chosen to be in this format. I think with books and movies it's typical that that's how stories would be told to us. But I think Disney is trying a new way of telling stories without animation involved with audio steaming as a first of its franchises. It is said that it's also for parents to help kids reduce screen time and I also so that they save money for future animation projects especially for Frozen 3, which is a sensible thing to do honestly speaking. Perhaps they didn't make it a Short because the story was more detailed than just a simple one like Frozen Fever and Olaf's Frozen Adventure and the story would not fit in a short but a long enough to be a movie.

But you still might be unsure about the story of the podcast being with the whole nature Vs machine thing. But to be fair we don't know much about these machines or what their purpose is so we can't really say anything about it yet. All we know is that they are "steam powered, copper machines" and when I searched them up on Google I found images like these:

They sound (by the name of it) and look very appropriate for the time period Frozen is set in. But let's not panic if you're still unsure with the machines taking the focus. Frozen is about magic - in each and every movie, long or short, they've explored some kind of magic. So it's given they're not gonna go all out with this science Vs magic theme. The characters and their intentions in the story are the focus of the story. When the sisters find out about these machines they will stop them because it disturbs the enchanted forest. That's the point - to get rid of these machines. Obviously what this person is doing is wrong and has to stop and that's what the sisters will be doing in the first season of the podcast. Besides the podcast cast multiple seasons so this will be the plot for season 1 only.

And no this isn't going to be the plot of Frozen 3 or anything similar because why would they make it the plot of the podcast and not of Frozen 3? Frozen 3 will be entirely different from this podcast. We still have a couple more years til Frozen 3 is out with a rough estimate. They might drop some Frozen 3 plot hints in these podcasts and some of the characters might make an appearance in the upcoming movie but the plot will be different. but highly doubt they would make Frozen all industrial machinery. If the person behind these machines has a good intention they might use their machinery to help advance Arendelle just a little more (I'm guessing). But they won't play a role in it. Frozen is about the characters - some of which have magic! Elsa and Anna have no links to machinery or anything so let's not jump to conclusions and judge the story without, let alone listening to it, but it even being out yet.

I don't think the podcast will be crucial to the story in Frozen 3 so if some of you don't want to watch it by all means don't but Frozen 3 is something different altogether. I think they're just trying to expand the franchise and keep the fandom alive and talking and theorising in the run up to the movie because it's fine Frozen fandom would die done because Frozen 2 was originally going to be the last movie of the movie series, but now that's it not they want to make sure we're all back in the game again.

We only have theories of our own. Nothing is confirmed regarding Frozen 3 other than the fact that the main Original cast will be returning (voices of Elsa, Ann, Olaf and Kristoff (plus Sven!)) and that it will be run with a new director instead of Jennifer Lee. Who else will be returning or will be joining new, we have to wait and see.

New changes to something old we love is hard but we have to give it a try in order to see if the change was good or not.

But in conclusion to this post, that's all we know so far about the podcast. Hope some of you found this useful if you didn't know something about the podcast.

[queerpumpkinnn]

Stain (Part Two)

4.5k words

In which Sirius realizes that he loves you in a different way than the other Marauders.

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six coming soon!

Summary: You've fallen back into the routine of school, and with it comes a rise in heat between you and Sirius. Also, another potential romantic interest arises. Sirius has some thoughts.

Pairing: Bestfriend!Sirius Black x reader

Warnings: Eating, light cursing, making out, let me know if I'm missing anything

While reading, I recommend you listen to marauders - a Spotify playlist by me!

~

It didn't take long to fall back into the school year's routine. Waking up early and receiving mountains of work had taken a moment to become accustomed to, but after a few weeks it was mindless.

Your emotional and romantic state, however, was another matter completely.

Something had been odd about Sirius. He was naturally friendly, naturally flirty, but you thought your mind was tricking you when it occurred that he behaved with you a way that was different than he would with his other friends. You certainly weren't complaining when he leaned his head against your shoulder waiting for you to finish your homework or the occasional kiss to your temple as a greeting or farewell. You just didn't know how much importance to place on it.

Your confusion on whether it was a noticeable difference was validated at breakfast one morning when Sirius, late as usual, trotted towards Gryffindor table, pressing a chaste kiss to your hair before plopping down beside you.

"Hey, you never kiss me good morning." James complained, half-teasing. Sirius rolled his eyes and leaned over the table to give a peck to James' forehead.

You looked up from your toast, then at Remus, who'd folded his paper down to raise a brow at you. You glanced then at Sirius, who was filling his plate without a care in the world.

So it is noticeable, you thought, chewing your lip. Sirius noticed after a moment your stare.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," He winked. Though you rolled your eyes, you cursed yourself mentally at the heat creeping to the surface of your cheeks.

. . .

"You like him."

"Do not!"

The two of you were promptly silenced by the librarian. You put your hands together as sign of apology and turned back to your friend.

"Do not," you whispered.

Remus shrugged, turning the page of the library book in front of him. "Or you don't. I could be wrong. I just assumed the forehead kisses and mutual eye-fucking meant something."

Though Remus wasn't looking at you, he could still see your eyes blow wide, staring off into space as you mulled his words over in your mind.

"He's just joking." You finally concluded, though you definitely didn't sound confident.

"Alright, I believe you." Remus had a small smile on his face, as if he knew something you didn't. He was the wisest person you knew, so if he doubted the meaninglessness of your newfound flirting with Sirius, it must mean something.

Does it mean something?

. . .

Though you'd rolled the question around in your head for days, you'd still yet to come to a definite answer. Moreover, the flirting certainly hadn't stopped. The worst part of it was when the you'd been lounging in the boys' dormitory one lazy afternoon. James was busy with Quidditch practice and Remus was in the library so that left you, Sirius, and Peter.

You couldn't recall ever having wishing Peter to leave so insistently.

"The hell is my Honeydukes bag? Could've sworn I had it..." Sirius was rummaging through his impossibly unorganized nightstand, searching for the bag of sweets he always kept stashed in the top drawer.

"Prongs finished off the last of it, mate." Peter said with an apologetic look.

Sirius gave a dramatic groan, slamming the drawer shut. "Going to wring his dumb neck."

"If you want something sweet I'm sure the house elves would fix something." You offered.

Sirius flopped back onto the bed. "But that's so far."

Peter jumped to his feet. "I can get it for you!"

Sirius draped his arm over his eyes. "Thanks, Wormy."

Peter scurried out the door, leaving the two of you alone. Despite the nonchalance with which Sirius always carried himself, he had become intensely more aware of your presence. The two of you were the best of friends, and that would never change, but why did he feel nervous?

"What d'you suppose he's so eager for?"

Sirius shrugged, sitting up. "Probably guilty because he finished it off with James 'n doesn't wanna say it."

You hummed, uncrossing your legs when one foot had fallen asleep, and flopped back onto the bed.

What you hadn't expected was for Sirius to lean over and place a hand beside your shoulder, caging you in under him. Strands of his hair fell from behind his ear, shading his face. His eyes gleamed with amusement and radiated lust that you weren't sure was genuine or humorous.

"Hey."

"Hi." You weren't sure what to say to that. He seemed to just be admiring you, but why would he do that? You'd never seen him do that before.

"What time are you due at the library?"

You didn't know what to expect, but that certainly wasn't one of your guesses. It took you a moment to process before you answered, "Four thirty."

"Ah, good. Get you all to m'self for a bit." Sirius propped himself up on his elbows, hair now tickling your forehead and face extremely close to yours. You sincerely hoped your face wasn't tomato red as his eyes drank you in.

"Y'alright?" There was sincerity and genuine concern in his tone. Had he gone too far?

"Yeah. Just watching you."

"Oh?" Sirius cocked a brow.

"Mhm. Seeing what you're doing." Your eyes were stuck on his lips. He had damn nice looking lips, you'd learned over the past few days, and they looked even nicer up close. Tempting, even.

"And what am I doing, exactly?"

You weren't sure when this had crossed the line of comedy and become genuine flirting, or at least that's what it felt like to you, but Christ was it different when he was doing it to you. You'd seen him flirt with classmates before, but having his gaze trained on you, his voice low, his entire attention on you was exhilarating. You liked it.

The question seemed to have gotten lost somewhere in the air as the two of you simply stared at each other, eyes going from eyes to pink cheeks to lips. You could have sworn he was leaning in.

What was unmistakable was the hand shifting from the bed to your jawline. It was surreal, like you'd stumbled into a dream. Somewhere along the line you learned you'd fallen asleep, and somewhere along the line you realized you liked this dream.

You liked it very much.

He was coy, luring, captivating. He was drawing you in, metaphorically and literally, as his hand had found your waist. He seemed timid, but no less enthralled by you. His breathing had become uneven, you felt it against your lips.

"I've got it!"

Both of your heads snapped around to see Peter standing in the doorway with a plate of assorted sweet treats, but he almost dropped it when he looked up at the two of you.

"You- you two-" His jaw dropped, hand going to point at both of you in turn.

Sirius moved away from you cautiously, watching Peter and putting his hands up. "Wormtail, don't jump to conclusions- WORMY NO!"

Peter had quickly set the plate down on the floor and made a run for the door. Sirius darted after him, hopping over the plate of goods in a fashion that would have been comical if your mind wasn't racing.

Was Sirius going to kiss you? Did that mean he liked you? Did he just want to kiss you as an in-the-moment thing? You sure as hell didn't know.

The sound of footsteps thumping descended the stairs (one had become almost silent at some point), and curses from Sirius were audible from the dormitory.

You glanced at the clock, noted that your study time with Remus was coming up, and quietly collected your things and headed down. Thankfully the ruckus had quieted by then.

Even after the calming walk through the corridors, you were less sure of what happened than when you were fresh from the event. You recalled the entire story to Remus, who sat patiently and listened intently (a habit you appreciated deeply in him). When you were done, you breathed deeply, looking expectantly up at him.

"Still think the flirting meant nothing?" Remus cocked a brow, smiling.

"Well now I don't think it's nothing." You threw your hands up incredulously.

"Fair. How do you feel about him flirting with you?"

"I like it." You blurted, perhaps a little too quickly.

"Then flirt back."

"But he's my friend, Moony, I can't. If I play it off as a joke he'll start taking it that way and we can just stay friends without having to worry about any tension or drama."

"Is that what you want?"

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. You chewed your lip.

"Do you want my advice?"

You nodded.

"I'd advise you to test it out while it's still early. Go for it now before you get emotionally attached to him."

"I just said he's my friend," you rolled your eyes, "I'm already emotionally attached to him."

"I meant in a romantic way." He said evenly, undeterred by your attitude. "If I know Sirius, he knows how to act casual. He's your best friend, he's not going to stop talking to you or anything."

"How do you know?"

"Because I've seen him behave that way with his previous, ahem, playmates. He's a heartthrob, not a heartbreaker." Remus noted the change in your expression, and added, "no, he is not involved with anyone else as far as I know."

You sighed, slumping back in your chair.

What harm could it do?

. . .

A lot of harm, apparently. You didn't seem to grasp how damn long it would take Sirius to be satisfied with teasing you before actually making a move.

There he was in the common room, sat on the couch in front of the fire, with you under his arm reading a book, nobody else around, and he still hadn't made a move. His fingers were playing with your hair, while his free hand held a cookie from the plate of sweets sitting on the table beside him.

"Alright, I ought to stop here before I fall down a rabbit hole that costs me my nights' sleep." You pulled the bookmark into the seam and closed your book, heaving yourself up and placing the novel in your bag.

"Aw, must you go?" Sirius false pouted, standing up as well.

"Yes, I must. I’m tired.” You smiled at him wearily, but he didn’t seem to be having it. He stood face to face with you, towering over you with that same closeness that had your breath hitching in your throat.

“Kiss goodnight?”

He wasn’t backing away. He was just staring at you with those goddamn eyes that taunted you and frustrated you and intoxicated you all at once. He wore his telltale smirk, though it was softened.

“Sure,” you finally said, though your heart could have tore through your ribcage at that.

Sirius hooked a finger under your chin, thumb on your chin to pull you forwards. Your blood was pounding in your ears.

Until he stopped suddenly, giving a soft chuckle before stepping away.

“Shame, then.” He smirked.

Oh, no he didn’t. Just as he was turning to leave you dumbfounded and breathless, you grabbed his tie and pulled him forward to kiss you before he had the chance. Teeth knocked and breath was knocked out of lungs, but he responded quickly, hands moving to cup your face. It was oddly gentle, the way he was holding you. Your free hand went to his shoulder, clutching him towards you. Thoughts escaped you in the moment, your focus locked on Sirius’ practiced mouth working on yours, his tongue slipping in your mouth and finding yours.

Sirius held with with a surprising softness, despite his obvious and overwhelming need for you. His hands trailed gently from your cheeks to your shoulders, down to the waist.

Suddenly it hit you. You weren't sure why, but his hands on your waist ignited a thought in you.

You were making out with your best friend.

You liked it. So damn much.

But he was your best friend.

Your hands, once pulling him closer, pushed against his shoulders. Reluctantly, he pulled away. Unfortunately for you he looked heavenly like this. Cheeks stained rosy even in the dim light, lips red shiny with spit and breathing heavily. He watched you with hooded eyes, slight confusion bringing him down to Earth again.

"I can't." You whispered, feeling terribly guilty. He'd made the bed, but you'd pulled him into it, so to speak.

"Can't what?" His voice was softer than you expected. No arrogance or anger, only understanding.

"Be with you. I don't want to jeopardize our friendship." Remus' words rang in your head, but they were joined with another voice in the back of your head that said loving him like this wasn't worth losing him.

"Then don't. We don't have to date if you don't want to." He murmured, taking your hand in a comforting manner. "We can try out a friends with benefits thing if you like. Or we can write this off as a one time thing and just go back to how things were, no problem."

You looked up to him. There was no urgency, no demand, no frustration. He was calm, eyes bearing into yours as if searching for a way to communicate with you telepathically.

"Well since you offered..." You began fiddling with his long since messed up tie, a small smirk creeping up on your face and a tiny ray of confidence warming in you.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I think that'll work out." You reached to give him a peck, then stepped away to grab your bag, left forgotten on the floor for obvious reasons. "You're too pretty, how could I refuse?" You teased.

Sirius gave a soft chuckle and looked down, a habit unusual for someone so cocky and flirtatious as him. "Goodnight, sweet."

You winked at him before turning for the dormitory entrance, entering the room to find a gaggle of giggling girls all turn their heads to see you so fast you're surprised nobody snapped their neck.

"Hey, guys." You waved awkwardly, setting your bag next to your bed. You felt like you were under a microscope with the way they watched you.

Mary was the first to gasp. "YOU'VE BEEN SNOGGING!"

Here we go.

. . .

You'd thought that by putting a label on your relationship with Sirius would silence the merciless teasing, but my were you wrong. It never led to anything more than a rough make-out session in a broom closet or a few hickeys, but Sirius was somehow even more attracted to you now that he knew he could have you; even if this was all you could give him he was overjoyed to have it.

Speaking of teasing, Sirius was doing a damn good job of it when his lips were pressed against your neck, nibbling the flesh lightly. An alarm rang in your head when you realized how easy it would be to see a mark right smack in the middle of your throat.

"Lower." You tugged on his hair, urging him downwards.

"Desperate, are we?" You could feel him grin against your skin, breath heated and giving you goosebumps.

"Not like that, idiot. Everyone will see if it's right there."

"Why that's precisely the point, darling," he giggled before you pushed him off, rolling your eyes but not bothering to hide the stupid grin adorning your face.

"I've got to get to Astronomy." You told him, adjusting your shirt and robes before peeking through the crack of the closet.

"But that's so boring," Sirius heaved a sigh, "why don't you just hang out in here with me? It'd be way more fun."

"Ironic statement coming from someone named Sirius Orion," you snorted, opening the door when you deemed it safe. "I'll see you in the common room."

Now recently you'd found yourself in a flirtationship with another boy- Jack. He was a decent guy, polite and funny enough to loosely hold your interest. James called him boring and Sirius called him an idiot, but in your opinion, if they didn't like him they didn't have to snog him.

But ever since it had become clear to Sirius that you were entertaining another person, it had become his solemn duty to ravish you with red marks just so that you would have to go to extra lengths to cover them up.

And so you found yourself constantly adjusting the collar of your shirt and your hair so that Sirius' abuse to your neck wasn't visible to anyone that passed you by.

Unfortunately, Peter noticed immediately.

"Who was it?" Was his constant query. The two of you were headed to your next class when he noticed, and he would not drop the subject for the life of him.

"I told you, Wormtail, it is none of your business." You deflected, searching the corridor for something to distract you or redirect the conversation.

Lucky you, Jack was headed in your direction. The boy noticed you immediately, a smile breaking on his face. His pace sped up, and as he got nearer you found his smile was contagious.

"Fancy seeing you here," you quipped, slowing to a stop.

"Fancy that. Hey, uh, were you planning on going to Hogsmeade this weekend?"

"I was thinking about it, why?"

Jack began rubbing the back of his neck, a shy smile overtaking his features. "I was wondering if you'd like to get something at Three Broomsticks. Y'know, like a date?"

Your brows raised, and you were sure Peter's were raised higher. "Yeah, that sounds nice."

Jack's face lit up. "Great! I'll come to pick you up before we go?"

You nodded, and he smiled and bid you farewell before scurrying towards his next class. You cleared your throat, becoming annoyingly aware of Peter's baffled expression.

"Yes?" You raised a brow, not looking at him.

"You're going on a date? With him?"

You almost threw your hands in the air if not for the books weighing them down. "He's not a bad guy! Why does nobody like him?"

"Because he's boring." Peter rolled his eyes. "You can do way better than him."

"Thanks, Pete, but I think I'll settle for Jack." You chuckled.

"But you shouldn't have to settle." He insisted, following you up the stairs. "For Merlin's sake, he's boring. And if you date him then we all date him and we don't all want to date him."

"First of all, Peter, nobody said anything about me dating him. I'm going on a date. I don't know if I want to be in a relationship with him yet, there's a difference. Second of all, you wouldn't have to all date him if the four of you weren't so invested in my love life."

Peter grabbed the door open for you, snorting. "You're the only one whose love life is interesting. Prongs is smitten with Evans, and that doesn't seem to be changing anytime soon, Moony is, well, Moony, he doesn't seem to have an interest in dating at all, and Pads has his groupies, and nobody can keep up with that."

Your heart sank a little at the bluntness with which Peter described Sirius' dating life. Though you knew logically that Sirius prioritized you far more than any groupie, and that he was far from a heartless asshole, but in the back of your mind you felt dirty, and not the good kind.

"Fair point." You conceded, placing your books on the desk and taking your seat. "But if I'm your only source of romantic drama then don't complain about the content."

. . .

Peter did not, in fact, complain about the drama. He did spread it though, coming immediately to James in their dormitory as soon as he came back from Hogsmeade. The rest of the boys had stayed behind on account of studying, Quidditch practice, and general tomfoolery, so Peter went alone- mostly to stock up on junk food and bring it back to the dormitory, but he did do his fair bit of snooping in your general area.

"Guess what I just witnessed," Peter huffed putting his hands on his knees and heaving a breath, having just run across the castle so as to share the news before your return.

Wormtail then went on to describe everything he witnessed regarding your date with Jack. James seemed the most engaged outwardly, but secretly, Sirius was bent on his every word.

"Here I was trying to get an answer directly when all I had to do was send Wormtail out on a spy mission," James laughed, clapping his friend on the back. His face suddenly went serious, so quickly it was comical. "WAIT. NOT JACK."

Sirius snorted. "You said it, mate."

When Remus gave him a look, Sirius began to stutter, mumbling something about "he's a complete idiot," and how you "can do way better than him."

Remus smirked but said nothing. Sirius cleared his throat, running a nervous hand through his hair as he rose to his feet. He decided to take it upon himself to see what you'd thought of Jack and his romancing. Sirius smirked to himself. If you could even call it that.

He felt sincerely odd hoping that the date had been lousy. He wanted nothing but the best for you. That had to have been it, right? He knew you well enough to know what you wanted in a romantic interest and knew Jack well enough to know that it wouldn't be a good fit.

When he trod down the stairs into the common room, he was immediately met with the sight of you flopped down on an armchair, tugging the gloves from your fingers.

"So? How'd it go?" Sirius stuffed his hands in his pockets, coming to sit on the arm of the chair.

You shrugged. "It was alright."

"Just alright?" He pressed.

"He's nice, and can hold a conversation. Funny enough, and not too bad on the eyes."

"Those are all very moderate answers. Are you sure you really like him?"

"I think so? I mean, he's nice. Theoretically he's perfect. Very easy to like and get along with." You were becoming more and more unsure about your feelings.

"Then what's the problem?"

"I don't know. He's not exciting. He's easy and safe, which is a good thing, but I want something fun and spontaneous and exhilarating. I want flirting, Sirius."

"Then ditch him." Sirius shrugged. "If he's not what you want then don't waste your time."

"But I do like him. He's comfortable and makes me feel safe." You countered, sighing.

"That's true. Do you think that's worth it even if he's not exciting?"

You chewed your lip. "Yeah. I think so. Which reminds me," you stood, clasping your gloves in both hands. "Think our little adventures might have to come to a stop. I'm going to give him a chance and it's not really fair if I'm running around with you."

He shrugged again, giving you a smile. "That's fine."

Your heart swelled at how easy it was to talk to him. He was so understanding and sincere, a side few got to see in him. Yes, he was mature and communicative when the time came, but few got to see him being truly honest and warm.

"Thanks. I'll see you in the morning." You smiled, patting his shoulder before your heavy feet moved you to the comfort to your loving bed.

Sirius was left with his thoughts, falling into the chair that you'd previously occupied. Why did he feel like garbage right now? It's not like he'd fought with you. It's not like the two of you were ever a definite item, it was just a brief friends with benefits arrangement that was doomed to end at one point or another anyways when one of you found someone you wanted to settle down with.

Though the way you described what you wanted in a relationship was awfully similar to his style of romancing, that was for sure.

Footsteps brought him back to Earth, descending from the boys' dormitory. Remus was padding down towards him, cup of tea in hand and a book in another.

"So, how'd it go?" Remus asked, sipping his drink.

"It went well, apparently." Sirius replied, unable to completely hide his frown.

"You don't sound too happy."

"I am!" He insisted. "I'm glad it went well."

"Even if it meant no more tongue-punching in the broom closet at every given opportunity?"

Sirius' jaw fell open, at a loss for words- primarily at how Remus knew that was happening in the first place, but also at the bluntness with which his usually mellow friend described the events.

"You knew?"

"It wasn't exactly subtle." Remus shrugged, turning the pages of his unusually large book with his free hand.

"So does that mean-"

"No, James and Peter haven't the faintest clue. Actually, they suspected Jack to be the reason for all the," Remus seemed to be searching for a term, "blushy giggly stuff."

Sirius' heart sank, and he almost physically grasped it. This feeling, it was strange. He couldn't be jealous. He knew damn well that Jack was not the reason for any of that.

Or at least he hoped not.

Remus noticed Sirius' perplexed expression, offering, "Do you want my advice?"

"Please," Sirius begged, too confused to be embarrassed about how desperate he was to understand the strange fuzzy feelings and roller coaster stomach dips he was having whenever something significant happened between him and you.

"I think it's quite simple. You have feelings."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Thanks, mate. I knew that, that's why I need your help."

"You know what I mean. You've developed feelings."

Something clicked in Sirius' brain. He'd never considered that an option before, having always seen you as off limits due to the friendship dynamic. It made a million times more sense now that it had come from the all-knowing Moony.

"Hell. I think I do." Sirius murmured, maybe more to himself. He was spaced out, brain dizzy from the realization. he suddenly looked up at his friend. "What do I do?"

Remus sighed, crossing one leg over the other and placing his book aside to lean forward. "The best thing you can do right now is be a good friend."

Sirius hated to hear that despite knowing it was true. He cared about your happiness more than he cared about him having you, though it certainly didn't mean he'd rejoice knowing you'd ended things with him to be with someone like Jack, whom you'd admitted being unsure about.

He'd make it work, though. He was happy for you. He really was.

Kind of.

~

Is this entire fic sliiiiightly self-indulgent for me? Yes. Am I sorry? No. It was much longer than the first chapter so if you made it this far, thank you for reading! Feedback is always much appreciated!

@sleepybookworm21 @jack1n @turvi @louleele

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six coming soon!

Sirius Black Masterlist

Harry Potter Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[zekeen]

OC Interaction

Thank you @pinkberrytea for tagging me! 😃💖

Now, brain activation... 🧠😵‍💫 "OC lore, come to me"

My OC

Kat(aigyda)'s mother was a tiefling and his father a half-drow from Baldur's Gate lower city. So, bad mix to make good first impressions on most people in the city. He was abandoned to an orphanage by his father shortly after his mother died, as he grew up, he figured out he was a sorcerer and was capable of using magic naturally, particularly stormy and psychic ones. He grew up lonely and often ostracized, therefore he holds a grudge against people too hasty to judge him. In order to get by, he became a criminal, he learned how to manipulate people when needed, also his talents in magic allowed him to work for the guild.

For his personality, he's seemingly friendly and polite to people. He presents himself as an assertive person but is actually filled with self-doubt. He's a bit lazy, and sleeps a lot. He may be good on surface level relationships but struggles with allowing people to get close enough to really know him.

Your OC

Mavka is a Bhaalspawn, product of a foul ritual wherein borrowing the power of the archdevil Mephistopheles to sire a creature born from his own gore , the evil god would crush a fae, from whose bones and innards mixed with his blood, a child would come to be—a child born from murder. She was not Bhaal’s first solo venture, although her older Dragonborn sibling bore a purer lineage, for Bhaal was able to conceive him with no external aid. The sole purpose of her existence was to be bred by her brother, and thus, it was decided that she would be raised by a mortal family until her coming of age—that is, until she first bled. Left at the doorstep of a human patriar known for his feverish adoration of Tyr, one of Bhaal’s enemies, she was taken in by him for he saw in her an opportunity to cleanse the rot, raising a devilish child into a devout woman. As she matured into a young girl, however, his obsession with her grew, and with it, the resentment of her foster mother and sisters. Physically and mentally abused on a daily basis, completely isolated and with not a single friend to call her own, she was primed for the Urge; the moment she gave up on living was the moment when her true father would convince her to give herself to him. And thus, on the day of her 13th birthday, with the blood of her menarch running down her thighs, Bhaal would use her as a flesh puppet to take the lives of all members of her foster family as she helplessly watched, a pitiful passenger inside her own body.

Personality-wise, she is quiet and soft-spoken, a little gloomy, but gentle and kind. Her past molded her into a needy, clingy individual, who is willing to submit to others in whatever way to quench her thirst for kinship; self-loathing to a fault, she voluntarily waives control to anyone who will ask, for she trusts herself not with anything. She is constantly scared of being left behind, and thus, will do anything she can to please those around her, her pathetic desperation often translating into selfishness. There is, however, a silly, girlish side to her, and she enjoys bantering with her friends and making them smile. She loves animals and children, although her sometimes worrying naïveté does make her an easy target for the likes of Mol. Also, when it comes to domestic tasks, her skills are appalling, but no one with a heart would ever tell her that as she sweetly bats her eyelashes at them while offering a plate of the most vile thing you can think of.

I think that as long as Mav and Kat are working towards a common goal, they would get along just fine, they might even become friends but I fear that at first he might try to take advantage of her naiveté... But he would rapidly get fond of her gentleness and try to cook her a good meal as often as possible. (That's also a way to prevent Mav's vile cooking from occurring too often 🤭)

I’m tagging @selemchant , @pastel-starr-bitch , @cryptidcryptic , @lavender-ravens , @bananasfosterparent only if you want to of course ! :)

[helloneighborfan]

Chapter 14: Meeting

Wow! Other blog from me again, hope you like the chapter!

"Caw, caw." For the first time in weeks, the crow we had in captivity, did not sound repeatedly like previous times (besides being irritating if you hear it every day). Why am I talking about the crow? Well, I'll say why: since I had the incident I had recently after discovering "a crow person" while exploring the tunnels of the house.

Thanks to the description we both made, we were able to generate several hypotheses and theories without arguments, but that served as suspicion about what it could be, as a couple of teenagers playing pranks in town, a person with strange tastes, a sect with unknown purposes and the last one is not even planned. I look behind me and look at Adelle with one eyebrow raised, her arms crossed around her chest, waiting for me to eat breakfast.

-Could we just for one day be people resting?

Oh, I forgot we had the day off.

-I'm sorry, dear, it's just that work consumed me," I replied frankly.

Adelle gave me a nice smile and went downstairs to serve breakfast. Before I go downstairs, I go to Ted's room to take him downstairs to the dining room. "Let's get you breakfast Teddy." I go downstairs and settle Ted in his chair. Adelle serves two plates of scrambled eggs with bacon .

-How delicious. I comment.

We both eat quietly while Adelle feeds Ted. This makes me think that Lisa will also live these moments of life. ~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Having an empty cupboard, I decided to take on the role of "productive husband on a slow day."

-Don't forget dinner time," Adelle called from the kitchen.

-I'll be on time, dear!

Leaving the house, I headed for the only store in town, where Mrs. Tillman's is. Sometimes it's hard to come home with everything you set out on your shopping list because, as the groceries were sold out every week, they kept emptying frequently, but on the other hand, if you got there early, you went home happy with your purchases.

When I finished my work at the supermarket, I decided to go to work and let Adelle know that I would be a few minutes early. The day went by and the hours went by. Without any inspiration to continue with the research, I decided to go to the library to look for more information to see more details.

What could the raven men he saw be about?

Had the weather situation in Raven Brooks been going on for a while now and no one was encouraged to investigate its causes?

My questions were dispelled as I entered the large library in front of me. Huge shelves of books covered most of the room with chairs and tables. The smell of old wood gave it an old, studenty feel. Having the student and professional sections, I decided to look for geography and meteorology, but only a few books appeared. I guess Raven Brooks also has its own geography, because it has little outside data.

With the necessary books, I start reading and taking notes on possible key ideas for the weather situation and what the town is like geographically. They mention that it is a forested area and that there is a lot of land, plus it rains frequently (like the time we went to the weather station and on the way back it rained heavily), earthquakes rarely occur and they talk about Mayak 0-14, a natural phenomenon that occurs randomly and consists of the sky turning purple, illuminating with purple rays, plus crows squawking as they circle around in a circle. They do not give the causes or origins of this event, so it shrouds it in a mystical and mysterious aura.

The next few pages talked about how unpredictable the weather is in Raven Brooks, how a week can be cloudy, there are even days when the wind doesn't blow often. Flooding is also part of this but it is mentioned that it is very unlikely to occur as there is no sea nearby.

Another natural phenomenon unique to the town is "The eye of dusk", a climatic condition that occurs during the Christmas season. When the night sky is completely clear, the stars mysteriously align around the moon as a small cloud positions itself around the moon to form the blissful event.

So many phenomena occur in this town and so few answers.

As I was about to pick up a history book, a brown paperback was peeking through the others. Upon closer inspection, it was actually dark brown with gold edges. It had no name but as I flipped through it, the first leaf read:

"History of Raven Brooks."

Turning a few pages, it mentioned that the Tavish founded the town along with other people of power. The origin of the golden apple is also mentioned. Gammy Flo was the creator of this sweet invention, since, by combining chocolate and caramel, she made it known.

Later, the Tavish family inherited Gammy's invention and thus their empire began to grow, becoming the most powerful family in town. Many photos appear of them in their luxurious home. The one that stood out the most was one in which they were posing smiling while Mr. Tavish had a frown on his face, while Mrs. Tavish was smiling proudly. In the background of the photo were also some knight armor with a sword.

From book 4 (Bad Blood) of Aaron's trilogy

In the background of the photo were also some knight armor with a sword.

"So, they think they're royalty, huh?"

"They will regret their actions in the future."

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Having enough information, I left the library and, instead of going back to my place of work, I decided to call Adelle if I needed anything.

-Who is this?

-It's me, Roger.

-Hello, dear.

-How are you? Do you need anything?

-I'm glad you asked, I'm fine, I'm just… I had an unexpected visit from Rita.

-Rita?

I haven't seen her in a while, I'm glad she's well.

-That's right, come back when you finish your hour.

-I will.

-See you in a while.

-See you later.

I hang up the phone and go back to my work…..

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

-It's nice to have you here with us, Rita. It's been a while since we've seen you," I reply.

-I'm glad to see you both, too.

-The reason why I didn't come those days was because of…- Rita averts her eyes and crosses her arms around her chest. -A situation I had that left me without strength, that's all.

We both exchange a puzzled look. Could it be what Adelle told me? Most likely yes.

-We understand perfectly well, Rita. The important thing is that you're here. Adelle put a hand on her shoulder.

She could only manage a small, sad smile. She didn't hesitate for a second to smile frankly and hug us tightly,

-We'd better catch up, hadn't we?

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

-Let's get back to work.

"Have you ever heard of forest protectors," Rita asks.

We both deny, but we tell that we had a sighting of a person supposedly related to the "forest protectors", that we only met once. At that, Rita tells us the following:

"According to rumors, they are said to be a sect that is hidden in the shadows of the town, their purpose is uncertain but, it is mentioned that they are related to the Tavish family , plus they and a few people are in there. From what I came to hear, only those who have a name here, plus…. you know, swear allegiance to them and earn their respect."

-That's from what I've heard, from the locals here," Rita replies.

Adelle and I exchanged glances. What if that person was one of them?

-If they came across a person dressed like that, then he is one of them.

At that, with determination, Rita stands in front of us and holds out her hand: "Is there one more space? Because I'll be able to be of help to you on this, I'll be undercover."

Another extra pair of hands wouldn't hurt. We smile and take her hand in acceptance.

"Welcome aboard, Rita Ryland."

[chocoblep]

#19: Boring

It had become an almost-nightly routine. When they closed up the shop for the day, Hinan and Rhuk would take a trip to the market if there was something they’d forgotten to get earlier that morning, and then return home to prepare dinner together. Often they chatted about this or that; remembering things that they had heard were happening from customers, recalling some stupid or cute thing that one of the koi did (probably Carrot or one of the Baby Carrots), voicing one thought or another that they’d forgotten to tell the other during the day. Hinan most often did that last one, because he often found himself with something on the tip of his tongue that he’d needed to tell Rhuk but forgotten everything but the knowledge that he needed to say it.

“You’ll remember later,” Rhuk always said, a hint of amusement on his face, and he was right. Later that night, like clockwork as they prepped their meal and his mind finally calmed, that thing would occur to him and he’d blurt it out and Rhuk would be so surprised at the suddenness of the statement that he’d usually laugh. They’d talk it over while they ate if the conversation spilled into dinner, but sometimes they ate in companionable silence, too, simply being close and letting themselves begin to unwind from the day.

Once their bellies were full, they would spend a little time relaxing, digesting, and doing something quiet. Maybe a puzzle or a game, or some solitary activity (Hinan had taken up origami recently in order to help keep his hands nimble, which had been a thing he’d struggled with since that fight where the haft of his axe had splintered into them). If they weren’t too tired once they felt they could do some strenuous activity, they would go outside and spar for a bit, which was mostly Hinan trying not to launch Rhuk into kingdom come and Rhuk working up a sweat as he practiced moves on him. Then it was bath time, and when they finally went to bed, sometimes Rhuk would read to Hinan out loud, as a way of practicing his reading skills. Often, bedtime activities led to a second bath, but that was neither here nor there.

They’d just gotten home, and were in the process of rolling out sushi when Hinan suddenly asked, “Are we boring, Rhuk?”

The Miqo’te turned to regard him, his expression a little confused. “Why do you ask that?”

Hinan shrugged his big shoulders, his eyes never leaving the sushi roll. “I don’t know, we do the same stuff every day. Haven’t changed it up in a while.”

Rhuk turned back to his roll, finishing off the inside and rolling it up. His tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he did so, and Hinan smiled at the little quirk.

“I don’t think that makes us boring. Predictable maybe, but we do a lot of fun stuff,” he said once he was done. “Besides, the couples that are boring are usually also old, so if we get boring, maybe that means that we got old and boring together? I’d be okay with that.”

“You wanna be old and boring with me?” Hinan asked, grinning. 

“Yeah, I think I do.”

The words had him flushing, though it was hard to see against his naturally red skin. “I’d like that, too,” he murmured, and then added, “Not boring sex though, I still wanna wake up feeling all the scratches and bruises the next day.”

Rhuk almost dropped his freshly made roll as he transferred it to the plate as he burst into laughter. “That ain’t gonna be a problem.”

The next morning when Hinan woke up, he stretched and smiled, feeling every extra mark Rhuk had left on him the night before.

[oathofpromises]

"You don't have to go through this alone." / from ardbert!

Once more, a sharp pang struck Stella, prompting her to tightly grasp the table as another wave of discomfort rolled over her. The pain was becoming more intense, and she couldn't help but be worried, but she knew it wouldn't make the situation any better. The people of the first had already experienced numerous hardships.

The job of being the Warrior of Light and Darkness entailed becoming the leader that the world needed. Despite the discomfort of absorbing an overwhelming amount of radiant light was doing to her body. It was shortly after the second lightwarden that she had a chilling realization- every victory against them brought the woman dangerously closer to her own demise, or even worse, transforming into a sin eater herself.

Despite enduring immense pain, she tried her best to persevere. Like usually the Au Ra didn't want to burden anyone else. All of them had enough on their plates, so she tried to hide it. Anytime she felt like she was going cough up white blood, she would excuse herself and head to bed for the night. Naturally, that implied she would encounter Ardbert. Ever since arriving here, she had been able to see him come and go. His appearance was ethereal, but occasionally it seemed as if he was truly present beside her. This was not feasible given everything that had occurred to the Warrior of Darkness. It was evident that he still had a role to fulfill. They couldn't say with confidence what that was.

Lying down, Stella attempted to shut her eyes, hoping for a moment of respite. However, unsurprisingly, the pain proved to be too overpowering. Sitting upright, she glanced over and noticed Ardbert gazing out the window. He appeared deep in contemplation but quickly turned his attention to her when he sensed her lingering gaze.

‘You know..You don’t have to go through this alone.’

It was a rather unexpected statement, but perhaps he sensed that she too was growing weary with each passing day. Despite the weight of others relying on her, there was a lingering feeling within the woman that she couldn’t afford to pause and catch her breath. The longer she took to defeat their enemies, the more she feared it would end up causing pain or worse to those around her It was a harmful pattern, one she was desperately trying to break free from, yet deep down in her heart, she couldn’t deny that Ardbert was correct. She had uttered similar words to numerous individuals, yet, true to her nature, she was unable to heed her own advice.

“I know, but I can’t let them get hurt again. I have seen just how involving others too closely in my affairs can end. I trust them and know they can perfectly handle themselves, but the truth is, I don’t take losses well. In fact, it’s all I have ever known since I was a child. So, if I can keep them just a little safer by carrying this alone, I will.”

Stella knew that Ardbert was referring to the fact that he was here for her, but she could tell he was also struggling with his own inner conflicts too. It felt like both of them were so similar, a feeling she had experienced the first time she met the Warriors of Darkness. The weight of their world is hanging on their shoulders, and the pain is so clearly etched in each of their eyes. They were willing to work with the Asicans because they believed it would save the first.

Could the Warrior honestly claim, without any hesitation, that if they were confronted with a similar situation, they wouldn’t have succumbed to the same temptations? It was only natural to desire the safety of their loved ones, even if it meant sacrificing their own happiness in return. Which was honestly a feeling Stella had gotten accustomed to since the start of her journey.

“Believe me, I know I can be stubborn, if I were to tell them what’s happening to my body, they would abandon their fight against the lightwardens and desperately search for a way to save me. I can’t allow that to happen. These people have already endured so much,” Stella whispered, her voice tinged with uncertainty as her words started growing faint. Most likely due to the wave of lightheadedness washing over her.

“But thank you…for saying that I’m not alone….it’s reassuring to hear. The truth is I never do feel alone…at least when you are close by. Things feel…more complete. Does that make sense?”

Stella wasn’t even sure if what she said made sense or if the other might take it the wrong way, but he was kind enough to check up on her and even offered some words of advice when she needed it.

“I know this must be hard for you…seeing your world like this but, I made a promise to you that I would save it. No matter what.”

[msfbgraves]

Lmao, all this sudden hatred of Terry and his slip up in your fanfiction takes me back way back to 2002 when the Brits made a mini TV series of the Russian classic, Doctor Zhivago. Yuri, the main character, cheats on his lovely, angelic wife Tonya (who he has cute kids with too) with “the slut” Lara. It was a loose adaptation and just okay, but I remember it especially because of the supreme rage comments the cheating got, especially from internet crusaders and trolls. Lara of course got the brunt of it since she’s always been one of literature’s most loathed characters (also because she’s the other woman). 

But the scene that really riled people was when Tonya was giving birth, and nurse Lara helps her—and Tonya realizes that she’s been fucking her husband Yuri. It’s a really awful and hurtful scene and the keyboard warriors had a field day with it back in the day on Y*utube. It was just the final straw for them. Even millions dying in the Russian Revolution and the Gulags didn’t bother them as much. But the cheating—HELL NO! 

I believe it hits a little too close to home. Very few people are afraid their partners may become involved in the mob or the Russian Gulag, but cheating - that could happen! And the Anon asking must have thought it was a possibility, or else why ask? I could have shut that down by "Alphas in their Nature never cheat", but I have already established that Nature isn't absolute. Amanda doesn't 'act' like an omega at all. Some people feel Daniel is not submissive enough for the trope. Well then - isn't it possible for Terry to go against the Alpha nature? If the rule was set in stone in this verse a tempting would never even occur. That would be like tempting a human with a delicious plate of the greenest, freshest spring grass. Useless. Humans don't eat grass. But since Anon already thinks Terry might be tempted, why not explore the possibility? I am demonstrably not the only one who thinks it could happen. And yes, it happens the one time, because Terry thinks he can have a bit of bachelor life back, and immediately realises that no, oh God, no, this actually recommits him to his love completely, and Daniel does not even know it happens, that's suddenly unforgivable? Not what he did for Daniel to actually leave? (Though people are reexamining that mess too!) but a drunken fling that makes him understand how deeply he actually loves his mate? That's what set people off?

There seem to be roughly, two kinds of flavours people want to see for this fic. Many want to see the happy times, yes. But there's also a lot of people constantly coming back to their angsty side. Which is legit. This whole fic is two people working through the fact that their love is built on an act of violence, a violence they have to transform. And this, one, terrible crisis - people have kept picking at that scab in asks. To the discomfort of people wanting the good times. Still, maybe it's easier to not dwell on if you are not afraid you will ever get in the position where edgy but good lovemaking (that people also keep asking for), tips into a bad experience. I can tell you that line in and of itself can also be very thin. Still, maybe that does not feel very immediate. But it surprises me that many people seem to realise that this is what happened between them - all the sexy, edgy, dangerous passion tipping into actual danger mid lovemaking - only when I introduced a danger people can relate to. It seems to put it into terms that hit home.

To me, a drunken, angry fling during a visceral fight is far less damning than what actually happened in the lead up to it. So I was like: "Ah, well, if people can handle that, they'll understand about the cheating."

Guess not!

To me it felt like a possible very ugly outcome of the basis of their marriage. This marriage was Daniel being used to neutralise this side of Terry and he has. But that doesn't mean that side of him is dead. And it came back up and I feel that it is a testament to Daniel's strength and the strength of the love they both built that this could be a litmus test of their bond. This is a betrayal that Daniel will not tolerate and it is really up to Terry now to choose who he is going to be: the one who would hurt Daniel to soothe his ego or the one that would let himself be changed, actually changed, by his love for him?

But you know, people can be self righteous in these scenarios. It's still too easy for Terry to rationalise that he may have been 'in the right' as the Alpha. He already feels he's not, actually, before he cheats, but he's still angry at all the LaRussos, and Daniel for "giving him a hard time". It's the cheating that finally makes it click - this is what I'm risking. This is what I've done. This is so much deeper than my ego and if I have to take my ego out of it, what remains is that I've done something utterly monstrous.

And I have to make amends. Actual amends.

[bookoformon]

The Words of Mormon. "Myrrh from the Sun." Parsha Ma'rah, "The Mirroring" begins.

Mor=Myrrh

The term used in Scripture for "pure myrrh" is "mor deror", which literally means "free myrrh." This spice is associated with the name Elokim of bina and is therefore called "free" myrrh. This is the mystical meaning of the verse, "and you shall proclaim freedom [throughout the land and to all its inhabitants]"

Mon= like, within

="Myrrhman."

מה

The two interrogative pronouns מה (ma) and מי (mi) occur frequently in the Biblical narrative; מה (ma) slightly more often than מי (mi). The difference between the two is that the pronoun מה (ma) asks for a quality (what, as in "what is your name?"), whereas מי (mi) asks for identity (who, as in "who are you?"). Here and there it occurs that where English would use 'what', Hebrew uses 'who', for instance when asking about the identity of a nation (Deuteronomy 4:8; 'who of the nations...'), or simply that of whoever ('which one' or 'who of the...').

Note that our word מי (mi) is spelled the same as the construct-plural form of the word מים (mayim), meaning waters. Hence מי also means 'waters of'.

A similar particle מו (mo) combines with all the common prefixes to form poetic equivalents of these particles: כמו (kemo), like or as if; למו (lemo), onto; במו (bemo), within.

CHAPTER 1

Mormon abridges the large plates of Nephi—He puts the small plates with the other plates—King Benjamin establishes peace in the land. About A.D. 385.

A single chapter, single Parsha Book, the Words of Mormon address the contents on the Big Plates. The Hungry Man Meal! 385= "Mirroring of the Truth."

1 And now I, Mormon, being about to deliver up the record which I have been making into the hands of my son Moroni, behold I have witnessed almost all the destruction of my people, the Nephites.

So if a Mormon is "Like myrrh, a freedom fighter" what is a Mor-oni?

Mor=see above

Oni= the tireless power from above

און

The Noun און ('on) is describes a surplus of vigor or wealth and specifically of reproductive powers.

The narrator says he is prophesying about the destruction of the Jews at the hands of Gentiles and is calling upon God, the Tireless Power of Freedom to give him testimony that will put an end to it. The coming of Christ which was supposed to create "Peace on Earth, Goodwill Towards Men, Glory to God on High" caused death and destruction on this world and it continues to this day.

This contradiction, this gross misunderstanding of the God of Israel and the nature of the Son of the God of Israel is called apostasy and it has cast a deadly gloom over this world for long and long:

2 And it is many hundred years after the coming of Christ that I deliver these records into the hands of my son; and it supposeth me that he will witness the entire destruction of my people. But may God grant that he may survive them, that he may write somewhat concerning them, and somewhat concerning Christ, that perhaps some day it may profit them.

3 And now, I speak somewhat concerning that which I have written; for after I had made an abridgment from the plates of Nephi, down to the reign of this king Benjamin, of whom Amaleki spake, I searched among the records which had been delivered into my hands, and I found these plates, which contained this small account of the prophets, from Jacob down to the reign of this king Benjamin, and also many of the words of Nephi.

Benjamin means to do what is right. It means to wake up, grow up and head South is to do what is profitable for everyone. The skill set required was first taught to men by God using the Torah. Men are now required to teach it to each other:

ן

The noun בן (ben) means son, or more general: a member of one particular social or economic node — called a "house", which is built upon the instructions of one אב ('ab), or "father" — within in a larger economy (hence: the "sons of the prophet" are the members of the prophet-class; the prophets). This noun obviously resembles the verb בנה (bana), to build, and the noun אבן ('eben), stone.

ימן

The root ימן (ymn) is of unclear pedigree and meaning but it has to do with both the right hand side and the southern direction, which are both decidedly positive (whereas left and north have negative connotations). This also indicates that one normally faces east, which corresponds to the past.

Noun ימין (yamin) means right, i.e. right hand, side or the right of other parts of the body. Adjective ימיני (yemini) meaning on the right. Verb ימן (yaman) means to go or choose the right or use the right hand. Adjective ימני (yemani) meaning right hand or right. Noun תימן (teman) meaning south.

The narrator says the Gospels, which enhance our understanding of the Godly Nature even further are not too shabby for the purposes of going South:

4 And the things which are upon these plates pleasing me, because of the prophecies of the coming of Christ; and my fathers knowing that many of them have been fulfilled; yea, and I also know that as many things as have been prophesied concerning us down to this day have been fulfilled, and as many as go beyond this day must surely come to pass—

5 Wherefore, I chose these things, to finish my record upon them, which remainder of my record I shall take from the plates of Nephi; and I cannot write the hundredth part of the things of my people.

6 But behold, I shall take these plates, which contain these prophesyings and revelations, and put them with the remainder of my record, for they are choice unto me; and I know they will be choice unto my brethren.

7 And I do this for a wise bpurpose; for thus it whispereth me, according to the workings of the Spirit of the Lord which is in me. And now, I do not know all things; but the Lord knoweth all things which are to come; wherefore, he worketh in me to do according to his will.

8 And my prayer to God is concerning my brethren, that they may once again come to the knowledge of God, yea, the redemption of Christ; that they may once again be a delightsome people.

9 And now I, Mormon, proceed to finish out my record, which I take from the plates of Nephi; and I make it according to the knowledge and the understanding which God has given me.

10 Wherefore, it came to pass that after Amaleki had delivered up these plates into the hands of king Benjamin, he took them and put them with the other plates, which contained records which had been handed down by the kings, from generation to generation until the days of king Benjamin.

11 And they were handed down from king Benjamin, from generation to generation until they have fallen into my hands. And I, Mormon, pray to God that they may be preserved from this time henceforth. And I know that they will be preserved; for there are great things written upon them, out of which my people and their brethren shall be judged at the great and last day, according to the word of God which is written.

12 And now, concerning this king Benjamin—he had somewhat of contentions among his own people.

13 And it came to pass also that the armies of the Lamanites came down out of the land of Nephi, to battle against his people. But behold, king Benjamin gathered together his armies, and he did stand against them; and he did fight with the strength of his own arm, with the sword of Laban. [sword of purity].

14 And in the strength of the Lord they did contend against their enemies, until they had slain many thousands of the Lamanites. And it came to pass that they did contend against the Lamanites until they had driven them out of all the lands of their inheritance.

15 And it came to pass that after there had been false Christs, and their mouths had been shut, and they punished according to their crimes;

16 And after there had been false prophets, and false preachers and teachers among the people, and all these having been punished according to their crimes; and after there having been much contention and many dissensions away unto the Lamanites, behold, it came to pass that king Benjamin, with the assistance of the holy prophets who were among his people—

17 For behold, king Benjamin was a holy man, and he did reign over his people in righteousness; and there were many holy men in the land, and they did speak the word of God with power and with authority; and they did use much sharpness because of the stiffneckedness of the people—

18 Wherefore, with the help of these, king Benjamin, by laboring with all the might of his body and the faculty of his whole soul, and also the prophets, did once more establish peace in the land.

Benjamin and Mormon, "Do what is right" and to "Be like Him" these are the ways one uses the Big Plates to mirror oneself against the Supreme, the Endless God of Freedom.

[franklinbadge]

A Critic's Review of a Psych Ward

It was during my second stint in the behavioral health unit at Newport Hospital when I finally came to the conclusion that, possibly, episodes of psychosis might not be for me. The multiple bruises on my arms from what only could be graded as amateurish IV placements, and the remnants of adhesive from dozens of EKG leads were nowhere near the style of fashion found on the runways from Paris to Milan this season (or any). The bright yellow wristband alerting those in close proximity to my person that I am very likely to be a fall risk is something I may continue to accessorize with, however. An earnest warning to those around me of my clumsy nature, and also a statement piece that will add to any outfit a certain je ne sais quoi; If only it came in a Tiffany blue. The fare was adequately acceptable, if a bit predictable after a few days. The Michelin guide may miss it, for good enough reasons, the plating alone is more assembly line than artisan. But, as with most cuisine in need of a little something extra, it was nothing a little salt and pepper couldn't fix. The accommodations would be, at best, described as spartan. The long twin mattresses in each room covered in sheets with a thread count hovering somewhere in the double digits. The synthetic material were obviously chosen not for it's luxurious comfort, but for their protective properties against any accidents which may occur around those with impaired cognitive abilities. Entertainment offerings were mostly confined to dual television rooms in each of the main hallways.One is in a larger common area with plenty of less than comfortable seating options, and large windows overlooking the harbour with a view of one of the main thoroughfares of the city. The other, a much smaller room offering half of the number of equally ergonomically-lacking chairs, but often times a respite of solitude in the often well-populated unit. The view offered by the single window as the first light of dawn touches the many church spires and treetops as it makes it's way down to the gables of the houses making up the mostly residential neighbourhood of North Broadway is a life-affirming way to start the day. For the remainder of the daylight hours, however, the view of a liquor store parking lot and one of - if not the - least appetizing pizza establishments in the city is little to write home about. But being on the top floor of the highest structure in the city definitely has it's perks come the hours around sunset. The window at the end of the first main hallway has an unmatched view of the Claiborne Pell Newport Bridge. From twilight up until the last light of dusk, the lucky few viewers who situate themselves in that alcove are treated to a slow burn of dazzling colour changes as the sun, clouds, ans atmosphere combine to put on a show with unparalleled uniqueness every time the last remains of the day fall below the horizon. The evening brings a sparkling display of lights on the bridge, with it a peak and slow wane in the ingress and egress of traffic between Newport and Jamestown. It is also around this time that the floor itself livens up, with visiting hours bringing smiles and hugs from outside these walls, breaking up the doldrums of the routine conversations and behaviors of the inhabitants of the unit, no matter how long or brief their stay. As the evening fades, some make their way to an early slumber, some continue the conversations of the day, and other look forward to a televised show or sporting event for the remainder of their night. The still of these late hours only broken up by regular safety and wellness checks by the nurses whose step counts easily reach twenty thousand in a shift. The quiet remains until the break of the next day's morning starts the going on with the floor all over again. I can only give my most highly esteemed rating and recommendation, because I am still here. And I am very glad to still be here. Thank you. ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

[mctreeleth]

Please tell me about number plates

*gasp* Of course. 

The number plates that I know about particularly are the ones in South Australia, although I know a bit about some of the other Australian states as well. But I will keep this to a brief overview of the structural configuration of standard issue SA plates along with a few points I am particularly passionate about. 

Standard issue number plates in South Australia currently are black characters on a white background, and are structured with an S at the start and then three numbers and then three letters. When the state started using that structure, (I will get to the old structure in a little bit) the three letters started with an A, but we are now up to ones that start with C as the first of the three letters, and as far as I am aware (from looking at every single number plate I see) we are now up to the letter R as the middle letter. This means that there is a naturally occurring S000CKS plate out there, which I think is very cool, and I hope its owner really really likes socks. Naturally occurring plates are my passion – custom plates are fine, I guess, but the emergent possibilities of words being created by the configurations are what I really love. More on this later. 

They started using the current structure of number plate in 2008, but before that number plates had three letters and then three numbers. When they first started using this old alpha-numeric structure in 1966 the letters started with the letter R, and then once they had used up all the Rs they started using the letter S at the start. At the same time as they were issuing these plates, they were issuing plates for bikes and trailers that had the same structure, but started with the letter T. This meant that after they had run out of configurations starting with the letter S they couldn't go onto the letter T for vehicle plates, so instead they went to the letter U, followed by the letter V and the letter W and then the letter X. Somewhere along the line they ran out of T plates for trailers and bikes and so they started using the letter Y for them. I don't know why they never used the letter Z at the start, but they didn't. When they ran out of these alphanumeric configurations is when they switched to the new 7-character structure with the S at the start. 

You still see plenty of cars with the old alpha-numeric structure. My car still has one of the old structure. But they get rarer and rarer as old cars are taken off the road, and also as cars are sold and in a lot of cases unregistered by the seller, which means a new number plate is issued for their new owner. This means that if you saw a car with an old alphanumeric number plate that starts with the letter R or the letter S, it would usually be on a very old car, and you could assume that the driver of that car had owned that car for a very long time, or that they had gone to some other lengths to acquire the ability to use an old number plate for their vehicle. In South Australia once a number plate has been surrendered back to the Department of Transport, which happens when a car is unregistered unless you specifically ask to keep the plate number, it is removed from circulation. The only way to get an old number plate would be to find an old car that had that number plate, acquire the number plate (often by just buying the vehicle) and transfer it to your car. 

Or at least that was the case until recently, when the Department of Transport decided to release for purchase, on request, what they call R&S series plates, which are any unused alphanumeric plates starting with the letters R or S. To get one all you have to do is go to the ezyplates website and enter in the one that you want, and if it is available you can purchase it outright and use it for whatever vehicle you want to. This means that now you see more and more R&S series plates, especially because it is a way for people to get a semi-custom plate that doesn't look like a custom plate. 

In South Australia, custom plates are not the same color as standard issue plates. The original custom number plates were all yellow with green text, and they had to be a six character alpha-numeric combination, but you could have 2 letters and 4 numbers, or 3 letters and 3 numbers, or 4 letters and 2 numbers, or 5 letters and 1 number. Now they come in just about any configuration - you can get up to 7 mixed characters on a whole heap of different colors - but they are very obviously custom plates. With the R&S series plates you can get something that looks like a normal number plate to the average passerby, so you don’t look like a knob with a custom plate, but which can still be personalised to an extent, because you can custom request any available plate that starts with the letters R or S and has three letters and three numbers. 

For instance, a good option for me might be SAR444, given that my name is Sara, or possibly SWI222, because I drive a Suzuki Swift, who I affectionately refer to as Swizz or Swizzy. People whose first names start with R or S could get their initials and then their favourite numbers, or, if you were an absolute madlad, you could request the plate SLU755, probably fully expecting someone at the Transport Department to turn down that request, only to have it successfully issued to you. If you or someone you know owns the black VE Commodore with the 5.8L V8 engine that that plate is attached to, please get in touch. You are either my enemy or my hero, and I need to find out which. 

I both love and hate the fact that the R&S series plates are available for custom request. It means that there are more configurations out there that are almost naturally occurring - obviously somebody has had to request them, but it isn't like requesting a regular custom number plate. People have to think about these. And that's good! I love that people are thinking about number plates! But on the other hand, it has removed some of the specialness of seeing an alphanumeric plate beginning with R or S in the wild. It used to be that when I saw one I knew that I was seeing something special - a car that had been loved for a long time, or a number plate that somebody had put a lot of work into acquiring. Now it is just another kind of custom plate, albeit one that most people don't notice. 

There is one very sneaky trick to it though – newer issues (although this includes when an old plate is damaged and replaced) say South Australia in little letters at the bottom.  

A few other brief facts that I don't have time to go into in depth right now:  

The letter Q does not appear in standard issue plates – instead, all government plates (which are blue characters on a white background) feature the letter Q. This is ostensibly to honor the queen, but realistically is probably because Qs and Os look confusingly similar. No one has been able to tell me what will happen with regards to this particular convention when the queen dies.  

Back when the standard issue was three letters three numbers, all ambulances used the configuration AMB and then the number of the ambulance, but now they just use regular government plates. This means that there are boring old cars out there with plates that have the letters AMB on them, and it infuriates me every time I see one.

In contrast, I will also regularly see number plates have naturally occurred to say BUS or CAR on them, and when they are on a vehicle that is not that (such as a ute that says CAR, or a car that says BUS) I will laugh affectionately and say "no you're not!", as if the vehicle traveling opposite me at 60+kph can hear me.

The Transport Department will occasionally skip some plates, for a variety of reasons, including that they are inappropriate. Sadly, S###ASS plates were not issued.

Heavy vehicle plates used to start with the letters SB and then have two numbers and then two more letters, while heavy vehicle trailers used to start with the letters SY and then two numbers and then two letters, meaning that somewhere out there, there was probably a truck trailer with the number plate SY57EM. But now most of the states in Australia have switched to a new shared interstate registration for heavy vehicles, which is less fun, because it starts with the letter X and then the letter S, V, N or Q, depending on the state of first registration, so there is a lot less opportunity for fun naturally occurring plates. 

There are some options for premium non-standard plates that are not custom, for if you want a fancy plate but have no imagination. These include what were formerly the XX or AA plates, which featured a double letter, three numbers and then another letter, but which now have progressed to having any second letter, and what are known as “Euro style” plates, which mimic European plates and therefore supposedly look better on European cars. They start with an S, then two more letters, then 2 numbers, then another letter. A co-worker of mine has the naturally occurring SED44N on her Mercedes coupe, which I think is hilarious. 

In the last two weeks I have seen both the custom plate AAAA and AAAHHHH which, frankly, big moods. 

[1kook]

new parent syndrome

— kim namjoon x (f) reader

SUMMARY You love Namjoon, honest. But you love your daughter Hyejoo even more— it’s not a controversial sentiment when you know he’s the same way! —and going back to a regular adult life sans kids absolutely sucks. (Or so you thought.) WARNINGS dilf!joon, dreamy husband joon, loving parents au, jimin is also a dad, bathtub sexy times, exhibitionism 😳 kinda sorta, tiny praise kink, joon calls her wifey TT, fingering, cunninglingus, doggy style, it’s kinda cheesy n romantic /.\, unprotected sex, …. impreg kink RATINGS m (18+) WC 9.5k 

NOTES writing parent fics is harder than i thought :/ i had this idea last week n was like yes, lets write this fic that absolutely no one asked for... except me! <3 so here we are, fantasizing about dreamy dad joon.... as always i have to thank rumu ( @kigurumu​ ) who is kind enough to edit these n b like that don't make no sense -_- anyway lemme know what u think !! enjoy !!

No matter how hard you try, the letter f refuses to fit itself into Hyejoo’s phonemic understanding. She’s a growing toddler so it’s only normal that there are sounds she still can’t pronounce, words she doesn’t quite get. But her inability to say food or family or friends, which are undoubtedly the three most important things in her three year-old world right now, is definitely a setback you didn’t see coming. 

Your worrywart husband has taken matters into his own hands, using the power of Google and about twelve parenting books to create an extensive, one-hour-a-day, mini lesson to try and increase her pronunciation skills. Of course, Hyejoo already attends daycare in the mornings while you and Namjoon are off at work, and gets sufficient learning done there. So she can’t exactly sit through Joon’s lectures, no matter how pretty he tries to decorate her flashcards. She’s still tiny— she’s still your baby, and you want her to enjoy the last of her daycare years before you’re forced to submit her to the worst twelve years of her life (also known as compulsory education). 

But as you’ve mentioned before, Namjoon doesn’t quite feel the same way. 

“She can’t sound out the letter,” he mopes in bed that night. He’s laying down beside you, face smushed against your thigh. The lamp on your side of the bed is the only thing on, casting a faint golden hue on his cheeks.

This conversation has occurred a variety of times these past few weeks, and you’ve just about ran out of every comforting reassurance possible. You settle on stroking a hand through his hair. There are emails to respond to and clients to check in with, but there’s also a huffy husband in bed beside you who quite pitifully crawls up into your arms. 

It’s with his face between your boobs that he speaks again. “What if she’s getting made fun of at school? Or her teachers think she’s dumb?” You roll your eyes. “My baby is not dumb, __,” he says, as if you don’t know. “Her IQ came back above average when I took her to the development specialist that one time, remember?” You have half the mind to tell him an IQ test on a three year old isn’t exactly valid, but there’s already enough stacked on his plate. Finding out he wasted a hundred bucks for an invalid test would just be the cherry on top of all his worries. 

Water clings to the very tips of his hair, remnants of his bath with Hyejoo. Namjoon is getting older now, nothing like the dashing grad student you had met what feels like a lifetime ago. There’s bags under his eyes, bags that surpass any all-nighter-pulling college student’s, induced by none other than the sheer power of becoming a parent. And still, he retains his beauty, looks like a doll with his skin so dewy from his skincare routine, lips puffy and red and kissable. 

He looks up, and you take the opportunity to place a kiss on his lips, his familiar scent making you melt into his arms. When he pulls away, there’s still a subtle furrow between his brows. 

“Hyejoo is fine,” you reassure him, carding his brown hair out of his face. He leans into the touch, eyes falling shut. “Our girl is the smartest three year-old out there,” you huff, feeling the slightest bit annoyed that he could even insinuate otherwise. “And if she was having problems at school, you know I would be the first one in there, fighting all the other moms.” 

Namjoon relents, face falling back into its haven between your tits. “Okay,” he mumbles, muffled from the way his plush lips drag against the soft skin over your sternum. 

The subject of Namjoon’s worries is in the other room sound asleep, not the least bit concerned with measly letters and sounds. It’s really only Namjoon who is, his stack of letter flashcards glaring at you from on top of the dresser. “Your mother hen is showing,” you tease as he slips beneath the covers, leaning over you to flick off your lamp. Just like everything else in your house, his t-shirt smells like him. It’s a natural, woodsy scent that floods your nostrils and makes your toes curl when he comes so close. 

Namjoon snorts as he settles beside you, beefy arm pillowing your head as he pulls you close. “I’m not a mother hen,” he says, hand on your waist, the tantalizing expanse of his neck before your eyes. “I’m the rooster— the cock,” he snickers, and you reward his terrible attempt at a joke with a pinch to his side that has him retreating to the other end of the bed. 

Hyejoo’s best friend in the entire world— or, as she says, her best pren in the entire world —is none other than Park Yerin from daycare. As the universe would have it, Park Yerin is also the one and only daughter of your college philosophy seat neighbor, Park Jimin. 

Crossing paths with him later down the road was not something you could ever anticipate, especially when you and Jimin were never that close in college to begin with. It was the only class you had with him in all four years, one where you had quietly acknowledged his charisma and occasionally shared homework answers, before never speaking to him again. You could have greeted him on campus, as you often crossed paths. But Park Jimin was a walking friendship magnet who seemed to bring with him a parade of followers everywhere he went, and approaching him required three layers of strategic planning if you wanted to catch him alone. 

So bumping into him at the entrance of Hyejoo’s daycare six years later comes as a bit of a shock. You had never pegged him as the type to settle down so quickly— you don’t mean to label him, but there were certain college stereotypes that he fit like a glove —but there he was, carrying the tiny love of his life who’s currently dressed in a bright pink Minnie Mouse dress. 

Unsurprisingly, just like her father, Park Yerin has the same enthralling personality that makes everyone in the three to four year-old daycare class want to be her friend, and your sweet little Hyejoo is not exempt. 

Long story short, out of all the kids at Sunny Side Daycare, Yerin is Hyejoo’s favorite, and Hyejoo is Yerin’s favorite. 

So now it’s been a little over a year since the two girls have established their friendship, which means it’s been a little over a year of acquainting yourself with Jimin again. He’s a house husband, something you never expected, and he loves his daughter like no other. Some afternoons after daycare are spent with Jimin and Yerin at the nearest coffee shop, watching the girls haphazardly scribble over every piece of paper they can get their hands on while the two of you catch up. 

Overall, you’re happy Hyejoo can have a friend like Yerin, and secretly, you're also happy you can finally befriend a fellow parent as nice and put together as Jimin. On top of that, Namjoon’s liked him on the few occasions he’s met him; the two have even gone out for drinks. 

However, befriending Jimin and Yerin comes at a cost, and that cost is seeing your little girl grow up.  

It’s your turn to mope. 

“Yerin asked her to sleepover,” you groan, sadly patting in your skincare routine the next night. Namjoon is somewhere behind you, his naked back glaring at you through the reflection of your vanity mirror. He’s so broad and big, sleep shorts clinging to his waist as he lotions up his body post-shower. There’s a thin gold chain around his neck that glints everytime he moves around, biceps flexing and bulging in plain view until he finally slips his shirt on. There was a time in your life where his back could not go more than two days unscathed, your rabid (read: horny) claw marks painting rosy trails down his spine. These days, you can barely remember the last time he’s held your hand. 

“Who?” he asks once he’s settled beneath the covers with whatever book he’s reading now and his thick-rimmed reading glasses. 

“Who else,” you say, tugging your night robe closer to your chest as if it’ll prevent your heart from breaking anymore than it already was. “Hyejoo’s first sleepover,” you sigh. 

You take it harder than you imagined. In the back of your mind, you’ve always known your little girl was growing up— hello, you were literally watching her grow more and more inches every single day —but you had convinced yourself she would stay your baby for a little while longer. As much as you wanted her to see and learn about the world, you selfishly wanted to keep her home too. She was your baby, your only one at that.

At least Namjoon feels the same way. “Absolutely not,” he squawks, abruptly slamming his book shut. He’s usually really meticulous about lining up his fancy bookmark right on the line he left off on, so his sudden carelessness tells you all you need to know about how he feels. 

You sit down beside him, hand over his. “It’s Yerin’s birthday,” you inform him in what you hope is a comforting tone; unbeknownst to him, you’re trying to reassure yourself as well. “And Jimin said he and his wife are gonna be there the whole night.” You trust Jimin, you really do. If there’s anyone who’s more in love with their kid than you and Namjoon, it’s Jimin. He would never let anything happen to his Yerin, and by extension, he would never let anything happen to your Hyejoo. He’s a good dad. 

Namjoon rubs at his eyes. In the span of two minutes, he’s aged about five years. “No,” he sighs softly, squeezing your hand tightly. “Once she starts going to sleepovers she’ll start wearing makeup and getting into relationships and having her heart broken—“ 

A kiss is enough to silence him when he gets like this, his warm breath fanning across your bottom lip when you pull away. “She just wants to wear tutus and sing Baby Shark right now,” you murmur, hand creeping up over his chest. His heart is beating fast as hell beneath his t-shirt, feels like it’ll burst straight out of his chest if you don’t calm him down. 

He’s the bigger worrier out of the two of you, has a classic case of paranoid parent syndrome. 

It’s no secret that Namjoon has a big brain; he’s an educated man with a respectable job. For every problem he encounters, he can procure a variety of solutions with different approaches. He’s always prepared and part of you thinks he’s a huge reason you managed to survive those first few weeks as a mom. Unlike you, who had attended a whopping two mommy classes in preparation for your upcoming child, Namjoon had studied up on parenting. A lot. He had read books and reviewed scientific studies, had learned about development on the chemistry level and the social level, did all he could until he was confident in his own dad abilities. 

But, for every solution Namjoon can find, there are always twenty-eight other factors to worry about. 

“What if she has an allergic reaction and Jimin doesn’t know what to do,” he pales, death grip on your hand. His matching wedding band digs into your skin and you have to wrestle his hand away before he accidentally breaks your finger. He nearly broke your neck once when you were in college, had almost sent you to the ER mid-thrust because he had underestimated his own strength while trying to choke you.

“Hyejoo doesn’t have any allergies,” you remind him, giving up on your awkward half-seated position as you clamber over him. His thighs are full beneath you, tense up as you move over him and he manhandles you into his chest. 

He’s not done. “What if she asks Jimin for a fizzy drink and he can’t understand her?” His eyes are owlish beneath his glasses, covered in what you can only describe as a visible sheen of absolute terror. “What if he thinks she’s saying ‘pissy’ not ‘fizzy,’ __— what then?” It’s amazing, really, how a man who graduated cum laude can hypothesize this many disasters pertaining to a four year-old’s sleepover. 

In the other room, Hyejoo calls for you, so you gladly take the opportunity to remove yourself from Namjoon and his spiraling thoughts. “Look,” you say, tightening the sash of your robe as you get back up. “I’m gonna go tell her that she can go to Yerin’s sleepover tomorrow,” you tell him, giving him exactly three seconds to groan dramatically, before continuing, “and you figure out how to turn that big brain off by the time I come back.” 

Luckily, the cause of Hyejoo’s sudden wake up is a tiny bug bite she got from playing outside that just won’t stop itching. “Mommy, it hurts,” she whines, digging her nails into the tiny red mark by her knee. 

“Uh huh, lemme see,” you order, turning on her bedside lamp to illuminate the space. Her room is the prettiest shade of yellow, fitting for a ball of sunshine such as herself. “Were you playing by the flowerbeds?” You ask, running a finger over the mark a little too weird looking to simply be another mosquito bite. 

She knows she’s not supposed to play near the flowers— the bugs like her a little too much. It’s with a hesitant little nod that she confesses to it. You give her a pointed look. “You’re not supposed to play too close to the flowers,” you remind her, a tiny scolding for now. 

With a sniffle she responds, “not by the plowers.” 

A little bit of anti-itch cream has her settling, and by the time you return to your bedroom, Namjoon is out cold. 

“How old is Yerin turning?” Namjoon asks her at the door, heartbreak clearly painting his features as you help Hyejoo into her shoes. 

“Pour,” she beams, her tiny hand held up to show four stubby fingers. She has Namjoon’s pretty smile, an honest look in her eyes that makes you want to put her in your pocket and never let her go. Alas, Yerin’s sleepover party starts at five and Hyejoo has been trying to leave since noon. 

“Pour,” Namjoon repeats, shooting you a pointed look as if to say see. He had fought the decision up until the end, had even tried to tactically convince your daughter to stay home by getting a head start on preparing her favorite food. And well. She said no. So now the two of you are stuck having dinosaur chicken nuggets for dinner without her. 

She’s got her little travel bag on now, tiny feet stuffed into her ladybug rain boots because it had rained last night and she’s awfully addicted to jumping in muddy puddles. She’s absolutely adorable, your little girl, and you think Namjoon might’ve let out a tiny sob earlier. (Or maybe it was you.)

Namjoon joins you at the front door. “Be good,” he warns her. His eyes are suspiciously wet, but you don’t say anything because yours are too. You’re both crouched in front of her, her big eyes glancing back and forth between the two of you without a care in the world. Mixing your self-assured personality with Namjoon’s (mostly) composed attitude was quite possibly the worst genetic crossover to ever happen; Hyejoo doesn’t even seem remotely bothered by the fact she’s spending her first night away from home. Meanwhile, you and Namjoon are on the verge of a joint breakdown. 

Anyway, Namjoon gives in first. “Love you forever, princess,” he tells her, their ritual expression, and kisses her forehead. 

She accepts it and then, in an unexpected turn of events, surges forward to hug him around the neck. “Love you pporever, daddy,” she repeats, and your heart feels so painfully full at the sight, like you just unlocked a new life achievement from seeing your daughter and her father be so cute together. You don’t get to coo at them for long, because then she’s giving you a warm hug as well, the same phrase muttered in your ear. 

It’s the hardest thing about parenting. 

Seeing your kid slowly broaden their horizons, meeting new people and learning new things. Leaving home. (Granted, she’ll be back by tomorrow afternoon but even that feels like an eternity away to the dramatic parents you and Namjoon have become.) The second goodbye on Jimin’s doorstep isn’t any easier, especially when Hyejoo tugs on your arm and asks you to “say night to daddy please” for her, and your heart breaks just a little more. Jimin flashes you an understanding smile but all you want to do is punch him in the nose for ever telling Yerin what a sleepover is. 

You get home and Namjoon is in a calmer state by now, some old sitcom he hates playing on the TV. Usually, this time of day is reserved for his daily phonemic lessons with Hyejoo, drilling the f sound into her tiny brain, so you guess this is his preferred method of coping in its place: torturing himself with some boring television show. 

“Hey,” he says, and you crawl into his lap with a sad sniffle. “Shh,” he soothes, hand on the back of your head as he guides you into his chest. You’re actually crying now, which is super embarrassing in itself considering you scolded Namjoon for this exact behavior last night. He doesn’t mention it as he pats your back, stupid sitcom paused in favor of soothing you with the deep vibrations of his voice. “Hye’s gonna be back tomorrow, baby.”

“I want her back now,” you huff, vaguely aware of how childish and silly you sound. The tables have turned, and you find yourself wishing you had the same emotional fortitude as Namjoon now. All those parenting books have clearly amounted for something. Somehow, you will the feeling back into your body and pull away from his chest. You must look a mess because he doesn’t even try to hide the amusement on his face. “This is the worst day of my life.” 

Namjoon laughs, deep and hearty, with his eyes squeezing shut from the force. “Come on, wifey, those chicken nuggets aren’t gonna eat themselves.”

It’s quite possibly the most boring evening you’ve had in years. 

(The internet calls it new parent syndrome, where you’re so undeniably in love with your first child and the parenting experience that the rest of the world is put on pause.)

You love Namjoon, honest. But you love your daughter Hyejoo even more— it’s not a controversial sentiment when you know he’s the same way! —and going back to a regular adult life sans kids absolutely sucks. (Or so you thought.)

Kids are prone to asking weirdly philosophical questions, a fact that had greatly delighted you when Hyejoo first started speaking. Who am I? What’s money? Why not? It could get annoying sometimes, trying to answer all of Hyejoo’s curiosities. But as you begin on your second batch of dinosaur chicken nuggets, all you can think about is how Jimin gets to answer them tonight. 

Anyway, seven rolls around and you and Namjoon are bored. You can only watch so many episodes of Seinfield before you get tired of feigning interest, so you retire from the living room for the night. “I’m gonna take a bath,” you tell him, but he’s as brain dead as you by now. 

A second later, “lemme join.” 

It’s been a while since the two of you have squeezed into the bathtub together, usually assigning each other days to individually join Hyejoo. So it’s really not either of your faults when you realize a second too late how small the space is. One on each end, feet bumping into each other with every movement, it’s like trying to squeeze two feet into one shoe. You try to readjust yourself, but the bath flooring is slippery and you nearly take away Namjoon’s procreative abilities with a mighty kick. 

To make a long story short, you end up pressed against his chest, Namjoon’s thick thighs framing you as you relax into the steaming water. Instinctively, he reaches for Hyejoo’s bottle of baby shampoo that sits on the tub’s ledge and only catches himself just as the first droplet is meeting his palm. “Oh, fuck,” he sighs, quickly closing the lid before he can waste any more precious product. “Shit, I’m so sad.”

You snort, sinking farther back into his chest. He’s warm and soft in all the right ways, the hot water making him slippery. “What did we even do before Hyejoo?” you ask, reaching into the deepest crevices of your mind for answers. Namjoon’s hand comes around, fingers sprawled out over your knee, the one you have propped up and breaking the water’s surface 

He makes a rather vague sound, something like I don’t know, as he lolls forward, forehead on your shoulder. “Go on dates,” he responds eventually. “Fuck like crazy.” 

You roll your eyes. “Besides that,” you chide, pinching the back of his palm. “Don’t we have any hobbies? Any interests?” He doesn’t answer, which is all the answer you need. Why didn’t you get into puzzle solving back when it was a trend? “Is this what our life has become? Crying in a bathtub at seven pm because our emotional support child isn’t here?”

“Our only child,” he corrects. Namjoon tries to placate your looming existential crisis with a kiss to your shoulder, lips against wet skin, that he trails up to your neck. “And what’s wrong with going on dates and fucking?” he murmurs, hands around your stomach. “That’s how we got here,” he teases, and you’re not sure if it’s the warm water or the way his voice is like melted chocolate dripping down your body, but you become all too aware of his presence at that moment. Particularly, of the plush lips mindlessly kissing your shoulder, the wet smack of their motions. 

Another kiss, this time right below your ear. It has your head rolling to the side, exposing more skin for him to kiss up on. There’s still that overwhelming cloud of worry in the back of your mind, but it’s gradually nudged away by Namjoon’s warm hands on your skin. Sensing your weakening resolve, Namjoon strikes again. A hand slips down over your stomach, brushes over your belly button and finds itself between your thighs. “You used to love date nights, baby,” he says, the pad of his pointer finger grazing your clit. 

It’s been so long since you and Namjoon have been alone like this, months since you’ve been able to touch him beyond a simple make out session, a halfhearted grope beneath the sheets. Your daughter, as much as you loved her, made intimacy impossible for the two of you. She was always around, always looking for one or the both of you, so there was never time to even think about getting frisky. 

Only now, with his finger circling your clit, do you realize the blessing in disguise that was your daughter’s first slumber party away from home. 

His finger nudges your clit, flicks it teasingly. “Why don’t you let me take care of you, hm?” he hums, the hand that had been soothingly stroking the inside of your thigh coming up to rub at your breasts. 

“Yes, please,” you whine. Resting your head on his shoulder leaves Namjoon with a clear view down your front, lips kissing and sucking along your neck. His huge hand palms your breast, massaging the sensitive skin. You hadn’t realized how sore you’d been until now, his nimble fingers pressing deliciously into the skin. If your nipples weren’t already hard before, they certainly were now. 

He traps one pearled nipple between two fingers, the sudden pinch making you hiss. “Easy, now,” he chuckles, his low tenor paired with his wandering hands making your eyes roll back. 

Namjoon liked to use a higher tone around the house. He read somewhere that children prefer lighter, sweeter tones, so the last few years have been spent listening to him lighten the tone of his voice for the sake of your daughter. The deeper, growlier voice that had first made you fall in love with him became a rarity in your household, reserved for quiet nights in the living room or long drives where Hyejoo was asleep in the backseat. Only then does he unleash the gravelly qualities of his voice. 

Then, and apparently, now. 

His doll-like lips press against your jaw, suck lightly enough to make your body tingle. “Do you remember how it was the first time?” he says suddenly, his hot breath against your neck. 

Namjoon’s got your clit trapped between two wandering fingers, has your pussy twitching with the vibrations of his voice alone. And for some reason, he’s trying to reminisce about your first time sleeping together. 

“N- Not really,” you confess, subtly reaching down. You cover his palm with yours, hoping your touch will encourage him to carry on with his actions. It doesn’t. It just leaves both your hands hovering over your pussy, your thighs instinctively closing in on them to keep him there. Namjoon responds to that, releasing the breast he had been gently massaging in order to pry your legs apart. He does it so easily, despite the way your legs feel tight as hell, and the fact makes you whimper. 

Once he’s got his hands back between your thighs— this time, he uses one hand to carefully part your quivering lips, the other one gingerly pressing down against your clit to draw the most heavenly sensations out of you —Namjoon feels the need to dive into a recap of your first fuck. “You were so cute,” he laughs, and you don’t know if you should take offense. Well, considering you're married and have a kid now, it’s probably too late to say anything anyway. His hand suddenly switches gears, three fingers joining together to begin caressing them over your throbbing clit. “Kept talking to me so politely, even when you were creaming my cock.”

You scoff, but it gets cancelled out by the moan he draws out of you. “D- Didn’t know you that well,” you remind him, your thighs twitching. You desperately want to buck forward into his giving hands, want to feel the true power of those long, pretty fingers on your cunt. 

Behind you, Namjoon’s cock grows thick, his breathing a slow and steady pace by your ear. You can already imagine how heavy he is, the vein that runs along the underside and throbs with each new bit of stimulus he receives. Normally you would reach back and try to offer him the same helping hand he gives you, but your thighs feel wobbly already. Your libido has been dormant for so long that even just the barest flick of his thumb has you dissolving into his arms like this is your first time. 

It’s as if Namjoon’s sensing your inner battle, a muffled laugh against the side of your neck. “This is about you,” he reminds you. As much as you want to protest, a sudden hard rub against your quivering lips has you gasping for breath. “Give me a kiss,” he commands softly, nudging his nose against the side of your face. It takes a second for you to ground yourself, draw yourself away from your building pleasure, to turn toward his waiting lips. 

Namjoon kisses you slowly, like he’s taking his time with you. For the first time in a long time, he truly can. He doesn’t have to worry about a certain someone waking up in the middle of the night or walking in or anything along those lines, lips molding against yours. Plush as always, the faint taste of dinosaur chicken nuggets clinging to his lips. It makes you laugh a little, drawing away with an airy giggle. Namjoon smiles at your reaction, murmuring a soft, “what is it?”

You shake your head, eyes fluttering shut as he continues his circular motions against your clit. “Nothing,” you pant, finally getting in your first thrust against his fingers. “I just really need you,” you say instead, pushing his hand harder down against you. 

You’re feeling a little antsy, having been deprived of this sensation for so long. Namjoon knows this, which is why he very purposely slows down. “There’s no rush,” he smirks, placing a kiss against your chin. “How do you want it, baby?”

The inside of your brain is a scrambled mess, filled with fantasies and ideas that have been plaguing you for months. There’s so much you want to do, want to try, but it’s like your brain completely blanks out when he asks. It’s just as you’re beginning to formulate a thought that you’re interrupted by the sound of your ringtone in the other room. Your husband’s arms tighten around you. “Don’t go,” he says quietly, the tip of his nose running along your neck. It’s so tempting to stay here, to let yourself go in his arms and chase the pleasure you’ve been craving for so long. 

But the endless possibilities of who exactly could be calling wins over. Was it work? Was it your parents? Jimin?

It is with a heavy sigh that you reach for Namjoon’s hand, slowly pushing him away from your cunt. “I’m sorry, honey,” you frown, standing up out of the tub. Your legs really do feel like jelly, and you nearly slip and crack your skull on the porcelain edge. Luckily, Namjoon is there to steady you with two secure hands on your waist. “I’ll make it quick,” you reassure him, dropping a kiss on his pouty lips as you fasten a towel around your body. 

The phone is just starting up its final ring when you reach it. It’s Jimin, and you’re torn between being thankful that you’re getting word on Hyejoo and full blown panic from the fact Jimin is calling you while Hyejoo is in his care. The unease has you accepting the call without a second more to waste. “Hello?” you say, hand tightening on the front of your towel. Stray water droplets trace ticklish trails down the backs of your thighs.

“__?” comes Jimin’s sweet voice. It’s normally soothing, but right now it has every hair on your body standing on end. Before you can even respond, Jimin is jumping headfirst into a whirlwind of a conversation. “Sorry for calling so late, but I just wanted to check in on you, babe. I know you were really panicked about Hye’s first night away from home, but don’t worry! Me and the missus are doing everything we can to make sure she’s fine.”

His confidence reassures you, lessens the weight that had been sitting on your chest all afternoon. But at the same time, you find yourself wanting to throttle him. 

Your gorgeous, sexy hunk of a husband is sitting in the other room, cock at full mast and ready to pleasure you to the moon and back, and here you are listening to Jimin brag about how good of a caretaker he is. You were definitely going to make Jimin pay for this. 

Deep breaths, you tell yourself, toying with a stray thread on your towel. “Really,” you drawl, and you can practically see Jimin’s ego swell over the line. 

“Yup,” Jimin agrees, and by the sounds of it, doesn’t seem like he’s hoping to end this call anytime soon. You want to shoulder part of the blame; you had been extra sad and mopey when you dropped your daughter off. On top of being a good dad, Jimin was also a good friend. It was only naturally he wanted to reassure you when he could. 

Still, the memory of Namjoon’s wet chest was calling out to you. 

“The girls are playing princess in the living room with the missus right now,” Jimin chats on. “New dresses and everything— the Yerin Birthday Special —and they asked me to be their handsome prince!” You sincerely cannot wait for the day you get to introduce Jimin to your right fist. 

“That’s great,” you offer, not that he’s really listening. He’s too busy talking about Yerin (and making sure to include Hyejoo in for your sake) and how amazing it is to watch your kids grow up before your very eyes. And while you agree with the sentiment, you really wish he had called you and told you this earlier, when you were at the peak of your motherly meltdown. Not now with Namjoon waiting for you in the bathtub. Was the water even warm anymore? 

The mind blowing orgasm practically slips from your fingertips the longer Jimin talks. “Anyway! Enough about them. I’m thinking of trying out that blueberry bread recipe that aired on TV last night. You know, the one they had that actress make.”

You’ve just about resigned yourself to listening to Jimin talk about his love for pastries for the next thirty minutes when something brushes up behind you. “What the fu—“

He’s so tall and broad, practically covers your entire frame when he stands so close. And his smile is so pretty when he aims it your way. “Sh,” Namjoon murmurs, gesturing towards your phone.  

“__?” Jimin calls. “Everything alright?” 

Namjoon nods eagerly, the hands on your waist properly positioning you in front of him. It’s with a shudder running down your spine that you respond. “I’m fine,” you tell Jimin, letting go of the front of your towel when Namjoon abruptly pushes you over. The white comforter infused with both of your scents comes all too close, your elbow barely managing to reach out in time to catch you.  

Wide eyed, you turn to throw Namjoon a scandalized look over your shoulder. He meets you with a close-mouthed smile, the dimples in his cheeks making themselves known. His chest is drier now, the smooth planes covered in a thin dewy glow and a spattering of droplets he missed. There’s a towel around his waist that’s barely doing its job, especially when you catch sight of the erection tenting beneath it. 

“As I was saying,” Jimin rambles on. Namjoon nods towards the device, refusing to move again until you finally turn back around to finish your conversation with Jimin. “That actress fucked it up so bad. They really give anyone with a pretty face screen time these days, huh? At least I know how to properly preheat an oven.”

You nod. “You do make the best cookies in town,” you respond, a ball of anticipation building in your throat from the mere fact Namjoon is standing behind you. 

It’s completely warranted once you feel two cold fingers trail up the back of your thigh, your towel gradually pushed up to drape around your waist. The air in your room is a little chilly, and the goosebumps that raise on your skin are partly due to that, as well as the ghostlike touch of Namjoon’s fingers. “Pretty,” he murmurs, so deep and gravelly it has you shuddering.  

Two fingers dance along your skin, and you subconsciously jolt away when they meet the tender skin around your pussy. By your ear, Jimin says, “if I completely fuck it up, we’ll just pretend this conversation never happened. Deal?”

Using your own body against you, Namjoon lets one finger dip just the smallest bit into your quivering hole. You clench up, thighs trembling when he eventually pulls it back out and traces your own wetness over your folds. “Perfect,” you bite out, clutching at the sheets beneath you as Namjoon reaches for your forgotten clit. It’s still so sensitive from your little fun in the bath, and it takes every ounce of strength in you to hold back the whiny gasp in your throat. 

Behind you, Namjoon suddenly presses in close. One hand on your hip, he gently encourages you onto the bed. Your knees sink into the mattress, one less strain on your legs. “Good girl,” he praises quietly, rewarding your behavior with a finger sinking into your cunt. 

“Joo—“ you almost slip, burying your face into the sheets just in time. 

A devastatingly slow pace, his finger just barely moving in and out of you. The bulk of your pleasure is coming from that bundle of nerves towards your front, but the teasing gesture isn’t appreciated anyway. When he leans over you, breath against your neck, you feel the length of his cock against your thigh. “He’s asking you a question,” Namjoon whispers, “answer him, baby.”

You nod, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he presses himself closer. Jimin hasn’t even noticed your lack of participation, mindlessly humming a song. The sounds of a running sink highlight his vocals. “Oh, absolutely,” you babble. “I wouldn’t tell a soul.” 

“Ha!” Jimin scoffs. “I knew I could always count on you, Miss __,” he snarks playfully. 

The hand toying with your clit comes around your waist, fingers stroking against your folds from this new angle. A silent moan has you writhing forward, unconsciously away from him as Jimin babbles on the other end of the line. He’s none the wiser to the lewd acts happening on the line, listening to the sound of his own voice. Namjoon lands a mean little bite against your shoulder, plunging his finger deeper inside of your clenching hole. 

Paired with his teasing fingers, it’s nearly impossible to withhold your moans, biting your lip until it stings. “Fuck, fuck,” you whimper against the sheets, holding your phone as far away as possible from your mouth as a litany of curse words spill from your lips. Namjoon chuckles at your dramatics, not like he has his fingers deep inside of you right now or anything. 

“So cute,” he hums, removing his hand from your clit to snatch your towel away. It gives way too easily, messily thrown over the edge of the bed. With your back completely exposed now, Namjoon wastes no time trailing a line of kisses up your spine, finishing off with an especially wet and hard one behind your ear. “Hang up now.”

His permission sets your body on edge, drawing your phone close again. Jimin is talking about dinner or something, you don’t even know. Not an ounce of remorse fills you when you clear your throat and hurriedly announce, “I have to—“ Namjoon’s cock, finally uncovered by his towel, presses against your folds and you nearly lose it. “—I have to go now, Jimin,” you say, leveling your breathing as best as you can. 

“Wait, what the fuck?” Jimin says, thrown off by your sudden departure. 

The mushroom tip of his cock kisses your clit. “Fuck— I really have to go.” And you hang up, chucking the phone off to the side hastily. With your hands both freed, you scramble onto your back, meeting the amused gaze of your husband behind you. “Fuck me, now.”

Namjoon laughs, reaching for the towel barely clinging onto his waist. One suave swoop later and it joins yours on the floor. “You did good,” he praises, lowering himself between your spread thighs. You roll your eyes, grabby hands reaching for his hips until he’s sitting snugly against you, cock resting over your throbbing cunt. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you snap, the tight feeling in your tummy growing with every second that passes. Namjoon isn’t as unaffected as he pretends to be, a pearly bead of cum appearing at the tip of his engorged cock. “Just fuck me now.”

He raises a brow. “Missionary?” As if it’s the first time. 

“Is there something wrong with it?” you ask anyway, self-consciously reaching an arm over yourself to cover your naked breasts. They’ve pebbled over just from his stare alone. 

Namjoon hesitates, the hand on your hip drawing slow circles with his thumb. Eventually, he responds with a halfhearted shrug. “It’s not the best.” This is news to you, and you find yourself sitting up at the sudden bomb he’s dropped. 

He’s still hard as rock between you, his dick laying almost artfully against your slit. You really just want to throw aside all reservations and begin grinding against him, penetration be damned, but now Namjoon’s got that thoughtful quirk to his lips. The one that usually accompanies any big brained idea, so you settle down, nudging him with your thigh until he’s looking at you again. “Penny for your thoughts?” What you really want to say is please fuck me like I’m just another cum rag of yours and make it hurt, but alas. 

Namjoon sits back on his haunches. “I read somewhere that on your hands and knees is the best way to get pregnant.” You choke on your own tongue, face ablaze from his forward statement. Meanwhile, Namjoon is looking as relaxed as ever. 

You hadn’t really discussed children after Hyejoo. The wordless agreement had been that sure, you were both down for another kid sometime in the future. But the exact date had sort of been murky. Hyejoo is three now, and you heard from another mom that it’s difficult for children with wide age gaps to get along. You don’t want her growing up being far removed from another sibling. 

But also, now?

It’s like Namjoon knows your thoughts before you even do. “Alright, wifey, say no more,” he says, leaning down to place a kiss against your lips. “I’ll get the condom, alright?”

And then he’s stepping off the bed, every muscle of his toned body flexing as he swaggers over towards the dresser. He’s a walking dream, the physical embodiment of all your crazy sex fantasies, and he wants to fuck a baby into you. Your pussy says yes, but your rationality is still on the fence. 

You roll onto your side, head propped into your open palm. “You want another baby?” you ask tentatively. Namjoon shrugs, carefully opening the new box of condoms you had bought half a year ago. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to have another kid,” he answers, procuring a tiny foil packet from the box and returning to his spot between your legs. It’s like staring at a marble statue from this angle, the defined planes of his chest and abdomen, the gorgeous slope of his nose, the sharp angles of his face. You really lucked out. 

Your decision comes just as he’s easing the rubber over the tip of his cock, the swollen head just barely enveloped. You place a hand against his wrist, earning his attention. “Take it off,” you mumble, and you swear on your entire life he swells another inch. 

“Oh, baby,” he groans, hastily throwing the condom somewhere across the room. He rolls over you, bulging arms sweeping you up into his embrace, lips capturing yours in a sloppy kiss. You whimper, letting his tongue push itself past your lips. When he pulls away, it’s with a wet pop and glistening lips. They’re so puffy now, flushed a nice rosy color, that makes him look even more handsome when he smiles down at you. “Gonna look so pretty all pregnant,” he beams, placing a chaste kiss against you one last time before he’s hurriedly rolling you onto your stomach. 

You hide your bashful expression against the sheets, suddenly feeling very shy before him. But then Namjoon’s cock is running along your lips and you’re left a shivering mess. “Please just fuck me,” you beg hoarsely, and Namjoon obeys. 

“Whatever you want, wifey,” he teases, and before you can call him out for his cheesiness, he’s pressing his thumb into your aching hole once more. “Is this okay?” he asks, somberly for the first time in what seems like forever. 

“I’m okay,” you confess, a little shyly now that you know his true motives.  

Namjoon chuckles, quickly removing his finger from inside of you to give your ass one soothing pat. “Going in,” he warns you, and finally, you’re rewarded for all your struggles. It’s only as his mushroom head squeezes in that you realize you could have done with a bit more stretching, but that thought fades away the more and more he pushes in. “Fuck,” he groans, the low intonation of his voice making your toes curl.

If it’s not his voice, it’s the sheer length of his cock inside of you. The girth makes your spine tingle, has you muffling a pitiful whimper into the comforter beneath you. “Relax for me,” he directs, and then suddenly he’s placing a palm against your back, pushing you further down. “Hips up.” 

You groan. The normally soft fabric of the blanket feels like hell on your sensitive breasts. “I’m trying,” you whine, pushing back onto him in an effort to familiarize yourself with his cock again. It’s been so long since he’s been inside of you like this, since he’s filled you so well, that your body acts a little stupid now. He hasn’t even begun thrusting and you already feel like you’ll cum just from this.  

The angle is different than your usual style, has him moving along every inch of you as he sinks in. Two big hands grab at your waist, manhandling you closer to him until you’re just like he wants you to be. “There we go,” he sighs, and with him motionless, you finally relax. It’s about a two second pause before he begins to draw himself back out. “How do you want it?” he grunts, but it’s lost beneath the moan that escapes you. It’s the same question he asked you in the tub, right before Jimin called, except this time you have an answer. 

“Fast,” you gasp, the pain from the stretch finally, finally, melting away as your body grows accustomed to his presence inside of you. “Do it fast, please.”

Namjoon does as he’s told, waiting until he’s pulled out until the tip to satisfy your requests. And then he’s off. 

Your body isn’t as young as it once was, left a little worn from the entire child-bearing process. Sometimes you wonder how exactly you and Namjoon would fuck until sunrise before, how your sex drive was so high that it allowed such a thing to happen. Admittedly, there’s currently a stiffness inside of you that has been there for a while now, and you barely remember how you got rid of it before. Apparently, this is how.

Namjoon’s hard cock rams into you once, makes you release the most embarrassingly loud moan at the sudden intrusion, and it’s like all those months of tension that built up in your body are melted away. His cock pushes past your folds, creating a lewd squelching sound that would otherwise leave you mortified to learn it came from your body. You shudder, desperately pushing your ass back against him in a feeble attempt to feel it again. 

“Still so fucking tight for me,” he growls, snapping his hips forwards. His skin slaps against yours, leaves you feeling tender from the brutal movements of his body. But at the same time, it feels absolutely terrific. 

Your lips are still coated in your own wetness, have him noisily moving in and out. “J- Joon,” you whimper softly, but you doubt he hears it over the sound of his own labored breathing. “More.”

He responds with a sudden piston inside of you that has the tip of his cock nearly kissing your cervix. “More?” he huffs, the hand on your back pressing down until you fear you’ll become one with the mattress. “You want more?” You nod hurriedly, somehow managing to stretch a hand down between you to toy with your clit. The brush of your own fingers has you bucking back onto him in surprise.

Wordlessly, he speeds up his pace, thrusting his hips into your velvety walls at a faster speed than before. It’s a weird sensation, a sort of ticklish feeling m that makes you tremble with each roll forward. You can’t say the two of you have done it in this position a lot, always preferring the more romantic missionary position to anything else, but this experience was quickly making you an avid believer of its validity as a top tier sex position. 

You swirl your pointer finger around your clit, trying to sync up your shaky touch with his steady thrusts. It’s useless, because every time you feel like you’ve gotten into the same groove, Namjoon one ups you by hauling you back against him. “Oh, f- fuck,” you sob, clawing at the sheets beneath you. 

Namjoon groans, momentarily pausing his rapid thrusts to roll his buried cock against you. “Come on, baby,” he husks, the hilt of his cock kissing your folds. 

There’s a lot of built up sexual tension inside of you, months on top of months of nothingness. Not to mention that little scene in the bathtub just now. So you’re not really surprised that your orgasm rears its head so early, curling up tightly in your stomach the longer Namjoon fucks you. He’s back to thrusting now, shallow little movements that make you see stars every time his cock glides inside of you. “Joon, I'm gonna...” you rasp out pitifully, grinding back against him. 

“Whenever you want,” he murmurs, leaning forward to press a kiss against your shoulder. It’s sweet, but on top of that, it has him pushing in further than before, finally pressed against that sensitive spot inside of you that makes your entire body lock up. You sob, thighs quivering when he reaches an arm around you. It’s almost romantic how your hands meet, his fingers covering yours as he guides them over your clit slowly. “Give it to me, baby,” he croons, lips pressed securely against your neck. He leaves soft kisses there, smooches really, that make you melt. 

Another shallow buck of his hips forward and you’re cumming, breaths picking up until they accumulate into a choked wail against the sheets. “Fuck— oh, fuck,” you cry, your thighs spasming from the force of your first satisfying orgasm in months. Namjoon holds you through it, slowly thrusting inside of you until he’s drawn out your entire orgasm.

The new added pleasure makes his movements sound even wetter, dirtier even. “That’s it,” he purrs, pushing himself back up to his full height behind you. You feel absolutely boneless beneath him, laying limply against the mattress as Namjoon repositions your hips for himself. “Can I finish like this, sweetheart?” he asks anyway, thumbs drawing a soothing pattern along your hip. 

You can barely catch your breath, so you settle on a halfhearted nod that has him huffing out a laugh. 

For some reason, Namjoon fucks you harder once he knows you’ve had your fill. Like he’s trying to draw another orgasm out of you, but is also the least bit concerned with you. Honestly, it works. He moves fast and hard, like he has no regard for your pleasure, and for some reason that turns you on more than it should. It’s this weird fantasy of yours, to be mistreated by a man as respectful as Namjoon, and you find yourself weirdly fulfilling it now as he fucks his cock into you. 

His fingers dig into your skin, wildly bucking into you as he chases his own high, and it’s embarrassing how quickly a second one builds up for you. You moan at one particular thrust, body sensitive all over. “Oh,” you whimper, “Namjoon.”

He grunts, your cries fueling him on as he continues his mad race to the end. “Gonna cum with me again?” he pants, his quick pace rocking you forward. You nod, using your killer grip on the sheets to ground yourself as you weakly attempt to meet his thrusts. “Aren’t you the sweetest,” he hums, and doesn’t let you respond as he continues to jackhammer his way into your pussy at a bruising pace. 

It takes a few more thrusts, and one whiny cry of his name— “come on, Joonie,” you whimper, turning to throw him a teary-eyed gaze over your shoulder; he shudders at the sight —until Namjoon is finally tipped over the edge, shooting his pleasure deep into you on the next thrust. It’s warm, paints your walls and threatens to spill out when he finally pulls out. 

But Namjoon has read up, using those big strong arms of his to keep you from collapsing onto your tummy as he scrambles around for something to keep your hips up. “It sticks better this way,” he says, a sheen of sweat against his temples when he flops down beside you. 

“What sticks better,” you groan, the achy feeling of just having your world rocked quickly settling into your bones. 

Namjoon leans forward and places a kiss against your lips, as if saying here, for all your hard work. “You know... it,” he shrugs, hands behind his head as he prepares himself to supervise your post-sex nap, just to make sure you don’t accidentally move around and let his cum leak out. “You did good, wifey,” he praises with another smooch. “Maybe we should let Hyejoo sleep over at Jimin’s more.”

Hyejoo’s return is the highlight of the year. 

You pick her up around noon, and your heart nearly grows ten sizes when you see her come running down Jimin’s front steps and into your arms. “Hi, mommy,” she beams, the same smile as Namjoon. And just like Namjoon, you can’t stop yourself from covering her face in tiny kisses. She says they tickle and squirms and squeals in your embrace. 

Jimin’s at the door with this weirdly blank look on his face. “Hey, Jimin,” you call out, helping Hyejoo load her bag into the backseat.

“Hey…” he greets, just as Hyejoo frantically begins calling for you to buckle her in. “Um, __,” Jimin says, but you’re a little busy securing the tiny love of your life into her booster seat, so you just throw him a quick glance to let him know you’re listening. Kinda. “There’s something I have to tell you—“

“I wanna see daddy!” Hyejoo babbles from the backseat, wildly waving her hands around as you finally close the door on her. With it shut, her loud voice is drowned out and you’re left raising a brow at Jimin as you round the front of the car. 

“What’s up?” you ask. 

Jimin comes down the steps, awkwardly hovering by the front of your car. “Um, when we were on the phone—“ Hyejoo knocks her tiny hands against the window, gesturing for you to hurry up. You flash Jimin an apologetic frown at the interruption. “Well, you see. She kinda heard us— well, me—” 

Another flurry of knocks, and you can’t wait to relay to Namjoon how excited your daughter had been to see him again. It’ll boost his ego, not that he really needs it to be any bigger. “That’s fine,” you tell Jimin, swinging your door open. Immediately, Hyejoo’s high-pitched voice fills the space between you and Jimin. “You know I don’t mind talking to the missus,” you joke, nudging his side. “She’s my friend too, ya know.”

“Gotta show daddy something!” Hyejoo shouts from the backseat, has this big smile on her face that makes you smile as well. 

Beside you, Jimin is quickly falling apart. “No, well—” you drop down into your seat “it wasn’t her who heard—“ You shut the door, lowering the window to thank Jimin one more time. Hyejoo beats you to it.

“Bye, Mr. Jimin!” she says, tiny legs kicking around all wildly in her excitement. You shake your head with a grin, waving goodbye to Jimin one last time as you pull out of his driveway. 

“Daddy!” Hyejoo shrieks upon entering your home. Her tiny overnight bag is tossed down at the entryway, ladybug rain boots haphazardly kicked towards the general direction of the shoe closet. Namjoon had been upstairs in his study when you left, but he now comes bounding down the steps at the sound of your daughter’s voice. He cries out a dopey, “princess”, as he scoops her up in his big arms. He does a twirl and everything, so dramatic. But it makes Hyejoo giggle like crazy. 

She allows one big fat kiss against her chubby cheeks before she’s shushing him with the news of her announcement. “Daddy, look,” she beams, holding his face between her tiny hands. “I can say the f sound now!”

Namjoon has been avidly working towards this ability for months now. Namjoon, who has spent nights reading every page of every child development book possible, who has spent hours decorating pretty flashcards for her, who has sectioned off time from his busy schedule everyday just to go over lessons with her. Well, Namjoon looks over the goddamn moon at the news. 

“Let’s hear it, honey,” you urge, stepping in when his happiness renders him incapable of speech. So he just nods along, looks like a bobblehead doll beside you. 

And with both of her proud, sometimes overprotective, parents standing before her, Hyejoo puts on a big grin and says, “fuck.”

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[thefanbasewhore]

Can you do a soulmate Stucky x reader? I feel like you would write that so well, especially how you portrayed bucky in "are you mad at me" was so soft. The soulmate version would be so cute

Summary || Bucky and Steve meet their soulmate, which they had no idea existed.

Warning/content || fluff, a small explicit scene, fighting. Soulmate AU.

Paring || Bucky Barnes x reader x Steve rogers

I got a little carried away, but enjoy ❤️ not edited or beta read but I'm sleepy 😴

Bucky and Steve have had each other from the moment they have met. Imaging their surprise, being two little boys from Brooklyn seeing colors, something the two agreed to hide, pending the time period.

It was different now, a different time. They were accepted and while both of them loved each other, so very much, especially through the mind control, fighting each other, then for each other. They always knew something was missing.

A color, maybe even two, three. A part of them missing but they both collectively came to the conclusion that it was just that. Some missing colors, it happens sometimes.

It happens when they least expect it.

After Thanos, after Tony finally deciding to leave that kind of life behind, buying a small two bedroom house on the outskirts of the city. A home to grow old in, be together for the first time since before the war started but only one thing prevented that.

The house was a disaster, gutted to the foundations, no running water, green moss outside covered the whole house, the lawn completely out of control. For Bucky it was a hard no, it was a dump but the moment Steve fluttered those ridiculously long lashes, how could he say no?

So here they are, sweating on this 90 degree day, putting up new dry wall with no air-conditioning.

"What color should it be?" Steve asks, glancing to his dark haired lover, taking notice of his now shirtless appearance. Bucky let out a sigh, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"Maybe we should get all of the walls up first."

Steve clicks his tongue, "I like the color green, like a nice pastel mint green."

"Whatever you want, honey." Bucky wasn't too picky, besides whatever made Steve happy, made him happy.

"Hello?" A sweet, feminine voice came from the kitchen. The doors left open because of the heat, there was nothing much in here anyways.

Steve pulls away from his task, pulling his shirt over his head to wipe his forehead with it. "Come in, we are in the kitchen."

Bucky wasn't too alarmed, Steve had told him previously that he hired a someone to make up the yard, nothing too fancy but the both of them were completely clueless when it came to plants, or gardens period.

"Quite a project you have going on here, Mr. Rogers." No doubt taking in the half gutted house along the way. While they have never met, they spoke on the phone briefly about his wants.

"You have no idea, Hun."

The woman looks around the kitchen first, noticing the freshly painted cabinet, the smell a dead giveaway, half eaten burgers thrown to the side on a small, make shift table with barely enough room to fit.

At first glance towards the man she notices the sharp jawline, defined but soft feature of the blonde as she greets him with a smile which soon drops in confusion as small dots of color appear. Stormy blue eyes with a full beard, Steve's mouth dropping agape as he notices the splirts of color - the missing colors for 106 years finally appear.

Bucky notices the tension in the room, shifting his attention from the wall to Steve, noticing how intensely he's staring, Bucky follows the line of vision and meets sweet eyes.

She's hit with another line of color, different from Steve's but now there's no more gray hue, bright yellows and blues. The outside is suddenly so bright and Bucky mouth drops.

This cannot be happening.

They sit there and stare for what seems like hours.

"I - ugh.." she starts, "What is happening?"

***

Sometimes life just throws curve balls, like finding out that your soulmate or in this cause soulmates are two, one hundred year old super soldiers who have already been in love with each other for over a decade.

The pull is already strong, nature intended for these souls to be together until death due part and honestly Bucky could feel it. With Steve he was used to the urge of wanting to have him close, kiss him every free minute he has but with the woman in front of him, it's new.

He doesn't even know her name, watches the way she nervously flickers from Steve's gaze to his own. She's beautiful.

Strong but delicate features, the curve of her nose is cute, cupid lips are so full... kissable. He can't stop staring, even with Steve and her in the mist of conversation. The make shift table cleared of all prior mess, Buck and Steve have to share a chair, which is quite comical, seeing two giant supersoldier try to share a small, old, dinning room seat.

Bucky's metal fingers twitch, metal plate click and whirl to life as he tights to urge to map her face out with his fingers. His heart is beating so fast, filled with so much... Love? Joy?

No matter how much Steve and Bucky try to hide it.. deep down they always knew, something was missing and in this case, someone.

"You're beautiful." The words catch both her and Steve off guard, Bucky blushes red something terrible but the sweet smile defuses the fire.

Well until she says something back, "You are too."

His whole face is hot and Steve reaches over to affectionately rub the back of his shoulder. Of course Steve was calm, he always is.

He handles things with lots of thought and understanding, while Buck is more hot headed, acts on the moment.

***

"It doesn't feel right." Bucky comments, watching from the window to insure she safely gets into the car. Steve sighs, by the time they're done talking darkness has filled the house. Steve affectionately squeezes the brunette's bicep, pressing a kiss to his hair.

"I know Bucky. This is a lot for her, for us. She needs to take time and reflect on this. She'll come to us when she's ready."

Bucky knows nothing then her name, and love for plants but chews at his bottom lip nervously. She's too far, the bond pulls at his heart strings. Now bonded forever. "What if she never comes back?"

"She will."

***

A few days pass, the kitchen is finally done, new appliances, new china and kitchen fully stocked. Steve is making something for Dinner - it smells amazing while Bucky starts painting the walls of the lifeless living room.

It's bare, not even something to sit on but no doubt with the stamina of two super soldiers it will be done by next week.

The knock on the front door is unexpected, but Bucky replies quickly. "I got it, Stevie!"

He expects some older, much wrinkly neighbor to be complaining about the noise of the nail gone or something this late at night. His mouth drops, a little shocked at the sight of her.

A very formal sitting dress, long and black, dips into a sweetheart neckline, the valley of her breasts easily visible. Hair is thrown into a neat updo, sexy and sleek.

Bucky clears his throat. "Hi." He squeaks out, feeling like a total idiot as he watches her nervously shift her weight from one heel to the other.

"Hi, I was in the area. A wedding for one my clients, thought I'd come say hello." Bucky wants to shake his head in disbelief that something so beautiful, just like Steve is made for him.

The universe sculpted and made two beautiful, breath taking human beings to be his and it's overwhelming. She's so pretty it's alarming.

It was a good excuse, the truth but not the real reason she stopped by. How could she tell them that they have been on her mind none stop? It physically hurts to be away for so long.

"Who is it, Buck?" Steve mumbles, interrupting the thick tension between the two.

"Come in, doll." Bucky's helps her with the jacket that lays over his shoulders, mentioning his head towards the direction of the kitchen, where his other lover is.

Steve is stunned none the less, he at least expected a few more days. Also, feeling much like Bucky, amazed by the radiating beauty.

He decides to play it cool, dimples forming with a breath taking smile. "Do you like spaghetti?"

Hours pass, time moves so fast with conversation, and adding wine to the mix surely didn't help.

The trio once again in the kitchen, but this time each have a chair, a new, more comfortable dinning set.

"You got this done fast. It's beautiful." She comments, "Colors are beautiful, I guess I have you two to thank for that."

Bucky shifts in his seat, the glass of wine is useless but still finds himself sipping from it. Her eyes are red, watery with a slight buzz.

"Do you feel it?" The question has both Bucky and Steve look at each other, watching her teary eyes as she presses a hand to sooth the ache in her chest. "It hurts, it hurts to be away. All week."

"It's normal." Steve answers just above a whisper, his next words make Bucky's bottom lip quiver. "I felt it every day for the last 5 years, Bucky was gone."

Bucky had never thought about it - there hasn't been enough time to. It's only been a month later since the return and it never occurred to him what Steve has gone through.

"Steve.." He starts, tears kiss his waterline as his fingers run through the blonde's hair. "I'm sorry sweetheart, I didn't know, I -."

"Couldn't prevent it Buck. It happened but you're here now and.." Steve turns his attention towards the girl, tears slip past her eyelids. It's for Steve, for Bucky.. all the pain and suffering they've been through. "Hey, don't cry, it's alright beautiful."

It's feels right, despite barely knowing the man, nothing feel more right then being pulled into his chest as a large metal hand comforts her in a different way, rubbing the loose strands of hair as he murmurs. "We've got you now, you're our other half."

***

Months have past from that day. The house is finally done, everything they could have imagined with the additional of an extra tooth brush in the cup that sits on the bathroom sink, a pile of fuzzy blankets at the bottom of the bed and a five year old chocolate lab. Steve didn't mind much, he's always loved dogs, Bucky on the other hand...

"Alright, alright, Maverick." Bucky huffs, grocery bags in hand as the dog excitedly nuzzles his legs, following him throughout the house like it wasn't only an hour ago he's seen him. Once putting the bags down, hears the whine, big brown eyes staring up at him. Bucky sighs, dropping to a knee before petting the pup's head. "Alright you mutt, don't tell anyone about this."

"Too late, pal." Bucky jumps, hearing the amusement in Steve's voice, followed by the giggle of the woman that peers out from behind him. Wrapping her arms around Steve before testing her head against his shoulder.

"Caught you red handed, you love Mav." Bucky grumbles at her words, feeling two smaller hands wrap around his waist as a head falls into his chest. He presses a soft kiss into her hair before taking in the blonde that barely fits through the doorway he leans against.

Bucky's free hand reaches out, mentioning him closer but as she's soon finds herself in the middle of a super soldier sandwich. "Hi, baby." Bucky presses a kiss to the blonde's lips.

"Hi, pal."

***

"It's only one mission. That's it, we will be in and out." Steve promises, not liking the way his girls face twist into a worried expression.

Heavy eyes, lower lip sticking out to pout. "What if something happens? If you get hurt? Or if they find you, Bucky?"

"I told you, Hydra is gone, honey." Bucky's large hands sooth over her tight shoulders, pressing soft kisses to the back of her upper traps.

"No. You still have nightmares at least three times a week. This can't be good for you. And you." She turns her attention back towards Steve, "Barely sleep four hours a night. You carry the fault on your shoulders, you don't need anymore. I don't want you two to go."

"We don't have a choice. They were my family once, I owe this to them." Steve didn't miss the way her lips moves to form a snarl, not sparing another glance as she makes a b-line for the stairs.

Bucky sighs, leaning against the wall. "She's going to be mad at us." Rubbing his chest with hopes to ease the burn.

The bond pulls at their hearts, a slow, painful punishment for their actions.

They return two weeks later, tired, just wanting to see their girl. The moment they walk into the house they look at each other with will wild eyes, heart pumping as they fear the worse. The dog, the annoying wiggling tail that would bark is one where to be found, something is wrong.

It's alarming. "Where is that freaking mutt?"

Steve calls her name, but there is no answer. Bucky and him are searching the house, ascending the stairs, opening the bedroom door with a deep sigh of relief.

The stupid dog takes up half of the bed, but is cuddled into his owner. Arm draped around the ball of fur, amount as long as her.

The dog lifts his head, a little tail waggle as Steve stretches his ears, lowering to his knees and laying his top half over the bed to press loud, audible kisses to his ears. "Good boy, protecting our girl while we are gone."

When morning comes she notices the dog is still pressed against her, licking small stripes against her cheeks. "Have to go out, buddy?"

She barely makes it five steps before tripping over two rather large bodies, sleeping on a makeshift bed on the floor. Bucky groans and Steve's eyes flicker open.

"Why are you on the floor?"

"Wanted you to sleep pretty girl. Mav was taking up all the room and you looked like an angel." Bucky hums in agreement despite his eyes being closed.

"Mmm, well it's all free now." It's short, simple but the sarcastic tone has Bucky's eyes flickering to meet his boyfriend's. They both sigh, staring up at the ceiling, knowing it's going to be a long day.

And it is. She's does whatever she can to get away from them, only answers with short replies to the point Bucky can't take it anymore.

"Sweetheart," Bucky tries again but she doesn't acknowledge him, eyes stayed glued to the book. He gets fed up, metal plates click as artificial appendages run over the binding and pull it from her grasp.

"Give it back, James."

He cringes at the name, a displeased frown wears his face. "No, you have to talk to us."

"No."

"You're bring a brat." Bucky starts, watching her expression change from annoyed to anger, wrinkles of frustration pinch between her eyebrows.

"Buck - don't say that to her." Steve comments, it's his fault, he's the one who said yes without confiding in her first.

"She is, it's over with now. She has no right to be this mad."

"No right?" Her chest fills with emotion as a humourless chuckle causes both men to stiffen. "No right? Huh Buck? I sat here for two full weeks, no communication, nothing while the two of you are out there fighting God knows what after you swore, promised you would always be with me. Don't promise me forever if you're just going to throw yourself in danger! You're going to die and leave me, or worse! Both of you will."

No one says a word, only watch as her chest rises and falls with deep, heavy pants despite the tears that rolls past her eyes lashes.

"Honey, I'm sorry -."

"I don't want to hear it James, and you." She turns towards Steve, fire in her soul. "I thought you would understand, more then him, considering it has happened to you."

She leaves the room without another word, Buck turns towards Steve, watching the way he fights the tears that gather. The pain of loosing Bucky is still so fresh, "She's right Buck, we fucked up."

"I know, I know." He mumbles into Steve's shoulder, pulling him close.

***

"You're so good to me, sweet girl." Bucky moans as she shifts her hips against him, the blunt end of his cock hitting the spot inside her that makes her squeal for more.

Large hands squeeze her hips as Steve leans over to find his boyfriend's lips, kissing him through the gasps and whines of their girl's name as she circles her hips around Bucky.

Steve's hands pull at his hair, lips trailing from his lips, down his cheeks before nipping at his jaw.

"How does he feel honey?"

"So good, Stevie." For a second he's in a trance, watching the way her face contours with pleasure and the pain of her third orgasm well on its way.

Steve lays next to Buck, hand wrapping around his own heaviness between his legs as he stokes it, switching between her face of pleasure to Bucky's, who bites his lip to suppress a moan.

It's short lived as hips stutter against her own, coating her walls with his warm cum.

Steve barely gives her time to recover, positioning her on his hands and knees before hovering over her ear and nibbling on it. "My turn, honey."

***

Her hands nervously shake, the kitchen table is all set up, dinner is ready but at the moment she doesn't have an appetite.

Between this morning sickness, the overall change her body is under going, food makes her sick. The opening of the front door makes her sit up straight, sucking in a deep breath.

Two voices conversationing in the hall, "I thought I said for you to lock the door when we leave." Buck is clearly annoyed, it's been a long day but Steve rubs his shoulders, mumbling something incoherent.

Upon entering the kitchen, they both grow worried. Face drained of color, red blotchy eyes with shaky hands.

"Hey, hey." Steve drops to his knees in front of her seat in an instant, hands curling around her wrist as worried steel blue eyes follow his stance, reaching over to stroke her cheek. "What is it? What happened?"

"I'm pregnant." She pauses, "I'm scared, I'm scared. What if someone comes for you? How are we supposed to raise a baby? What if it has the serum, will it ever be safe?"

The questions fill Bucky with dread, how much though put into every sentence, every word is like a new hit of pain to his body but he stays strong. For his girl, he leans forward, wiping the tears away from discolored cheeks. "Everything is going to be fine babydoll, you're going to be fine, our baby is going to be fine."

[zeldas-cigarrette]

⊱┊𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬. ↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃

— pairing; ⚢donna sheridan x fem!reader

— word count; 3.3k

— summary; Sophie organised an afternoon of speed dating for her mother. You happened to be a customer at the certain restaurant it took place, and it seemed as if Donna was more interested in you than in all the guys that came for her. (lots of fluff because I can’t bring myself to write smut atm. ) xx

— fluff 🍰₊˚.༄ ೃ -

—❥ author’s note; My obsession with Meryl Streep keeps me sane during all those exams I have atm… Again, I’m so sorry for not posting my requests but I tried finishing them all but when I read them again they were so insanely bad, I can’t upload them… I will rewrite them probably next weekend (if I have enough time). But thanks for sticking around although I’m not as active (which will change in a few weeks, when I’ve finished my finals).

..⃗.🕊•̩̩͙⁺⤾·˚ ༘ ◡̈ ꒰ 🥥 ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ ✧˖*°࿐

🏷 tag list; @paulawand , @pearplate

The sun was already burning down when Donna found out about her daughter's plans for the afternoon. Apparently, Sophie decided to host a speed dating for her mother in some restaurant on the island. She wasn’t interested in the first place but for the sake of her daughter, Donna decided to give it a try - maybe she’ll find the love of her life? It wasn’t until both mother and daughter arrived at the chosen restaurant when the older woman started worrying about what’s to come behind those doors. The few birds that gathered on the windowsill started chirping as if they were trying to warn her, „don’t go in!” but it seemed too late for that. „I don’t know if this is the right thing Soph,” Donna lurked through the window, seeing a couple of older guys waiting eagerly for someone to entertain them. „It’s gonna be fun Mum, just let it happen,” and with the huge smile spread over the young girl's face, she pushed the door open. Quickly the smell of food surrounded both women.

Only a couple of women were interested in dating as well, everyone was already sat on separate tables only waiting for the main host to start the thing. On the first look, none of these men caught her eye, none of them looked attractive. However, who was she to judge? Said and done, Donna took a seat opposite of a man with full fair hair and glasses. The two minutes started in which they were supposed to get to know each other.

You were sat in the corner of the restaurant, observing the show you were offered from afar. The people, including the owner, were making a fuss about the speed dating someone had arranged. You had moved to the island just a couple of months ago and though such things as speed dating were a pretty common thing in England, it seemed to be hardly a thing around here. Chewing on a shrimp, you wanted to hold back the laughter when you saw the angelic-looking woman’s face when one of the guys seemingly told her an interesting fact about him. She didn’t look very happy with the selection of men. Luckily you had an amazing view of the ocean and you could watch the sun gleaming on the water.

For every passing minute, Donna regretted the decision she made. The first guy was as dull as his name, Tom had 15 cats. He told her a story of when a few of his cats got sick and vomited in his flat. It was a full-on ramble for two minutes not letting his opponent get to word for once. Donna wasn’t sure if she had control of her face, but if she wasn’t at least the guy knew how horrible he was. The next one - didn’t even introduce himself - was shy. So shy that he only stared down on his fingers. Therefore when Donna made the first move and told him a little about her life, he could only nod and blankly stare a hole into the hotel owner.

Sunken in a daydream, you scribbled something in your notebook hoping the words would turn into poems. When you first came to the island you had hoped to overcome the ongoing writer's block, but until now not even the alluring landscape could change that. It ever so often occurred that your eyes landed on the woman with the golden locks not sure if it’s because of how dissatisfied she looked or if it’s her that captured you. Often you came to this restaurant to get the words flowing or to talk to the owners. They have been welcoming from the first moment, so you decided to go there again and again until it became the only restaurant you’d go to.

Meanwhile, Donna was meeting the fourth guy that wanted to meet her. It seemed to be a better start than the rest of the guys, he wasn’t perfect but neither was he as self-centered as the ones before. Their conversation was good until he dropped the 'women belong in the kitchen’ bomb. It ruined everything for her. „Alright people, we’re gonna take a short break so everyone can let the impressions sink in,” Sophie quickly interrupted when she saw how uncomfortable her mother felt. Each of the participants got up and walked out on the terrace or ordered drinks from the bar. Donna scoffed and buried her head in her hands. „This is awful,” it was only a whisper but audible to her daughter. „I’m sorry, I really thought that you’re gonna have fun,” the girl replied. Without another word the woman got up and wanted to walk a few steps to stretch the tense muscles in her leg when she spotted you sitting in the corner of the room.

She took small steps to reach your table, she was curious about what you were doing there all alone scribbling in your notebook. At first, you didn’t notice her coming towards you, but when you did she seemed as if a halo would enlighten her. The notebook was closed in an instant when you realized that you were the aim she was about to reach. „Hi” you greeted her with a wide smile. „Hello, I noticed you sitting all alone,” it was obvious that Donna searched for an opportunity to escape the dating hell her daughter had organised. You saw in how deep of misery the woman was. „Would you like to sit with me for a while?” you requested and pointed at the chair opposite of you. The noise in the overfilled restaurant was deafening so the blonde woman didn’t bother using words and just pulled out a chair. „You don’t know in how many ways you just saved me,” she smirked and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. You blushed but tried to hide it while leaning your face in both of your hands.

„I saw you’ve been busy over there, isn’t speed dating fun?” you teased not knowing if it was alright to overstep this line. „They’re all abhorrently boring and irritating,” the woman huffed and throws a disapproving look at the crowd of men. You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, you’ve never had the problem with weird men. „I’m Y/n by the way,” you reached out your hand which she gladly shook. „Nice to meet you, my name’s Donna.” Even her name sounded angelic. The woman’s company brought you joy and even ideas for new poems came to your mind. „You could stay here until it’s over, I don’t mind,” you suggested avoiding eye contact, fearing rejection. „I’d love to,” it sounded like heaven to you. Therefore she stayed and every time you looked at her, you hated to avert your gaze the next second. Although Donna seemed to enjoy herself, the men on the other side of the room looked as if they were disappointed that she left. „One of their cats vomited in their flat,” she told you rolling her eyes. „Aww, I love cats but without the vomiting,” you giggled and tried to find out who it was by just scanning them. „It’s the blond one,” she pointed at a tall, skinny guy. „Oh yes, he absolutely looks like a cat guy,” you remarked dryly not averting your gaze from the giraffe-like man.

Sophie saw her mother sitting with you, smiling and giggling sometimes. She didn’t dare to make her comeback and go through another round.

„Would you like something to eat while you’re waiting for this to be over?” you asked shyly. „Actually, yes! I’ve been starving since we’ve come here and the conversations I’ve had didn’t make it go away,” Donna explained and bit down her lip. You waved for Elias, a waiter, for her to order. You’ve been exploring the island with him a couple of times and learned that he would rather like to work on the mainland as a teacher than work at his parent's restaurant. The food was served in less than ten minutes and she hummed while eating. „This has to be the best one I’ve eaten yet,” Donna declared while putting the cutlery on her plate.

Donna admired you for your kindness of letting her stay with you, she was lost in the eyes of yours and how your y/h/c hair was blown from the wind from time to time. The opened window offered her a marvellous view on the deep blue ocean. She felt safe in your company and the stories you’d told her about your future plans captured her. „Then why have you decided to come to Kalokairi when you plan on becoming a writer?” the older woman curiously asked. „Well, I had a very severe writers block and wanted to be surrounded by nature and I’ve a lot about this place in tourist guides so I decided to come here to get my writing flowing,” you explained. „Oh I’m sorry, I hope you’ve overcome it by now.” „I think I just did,” you cheekily replied. Unknowingly that your time was up by now, Sophie strutted over to the both of you.

„Mum, I’m sorry to interrupt but we’re done,” the young girl smiled while looking at you. „I’d really like to do this again,” Donna circled with her finger on the table, „I’ll just give you my address and you can come over some time.” Donna scribbled something on a napkin and handed it to you. You tried to hide the huge smile that was about to form on your lips. „Thanks, I’d also love to repeat this,” your whisper was barely audible. Donna just winked before leaving with her daughter, she was gone and left you with butterflies in your stomach. That day you’re writers block seemed to be gone and you were finally able to bring some words on paper.

»As I sat and looked at her and the rolling hills she sat upon I thought, what amazing luck I have that the world had created such beautiful things and given me the eyes to see them.« *

At first, you’ve been too afraid to drop that little poem off at her house, but when you gathered enough courage you just went for it. It was only when you arrived that you realised she was managing a hotel. You quickly dropped it off with your phone number written on it, not brave enough to give it to her in person. The following hours consisted of you having almost a nervous breakdown not wanting to receive rejection again. You had enough of that for a lifetime. Was she even interested in that way or was she just being nice? It took her until the next morning to get back to you, but when she did, it brought your heart to quiver.

She invited you over for a walk along the coastline by sunset. Whenever Donna laughed, it felt as if the world was changing for the better, and she smiled like a goddess. When the sun was almost gone and barely visible, it made the whole island shimmer in a shade of magenta. The older woman seemed as if she took a liking to you, that’s when you realised the arm sneaked around you. It was that day when you never wanted to leave Kalokairi or the high you’ve been on since you first saw her.

—♡︎

Over the weeks you two had somehow developed an unspoken romantic relationship, none of you were brave enough to talk about the strong feelings in between. When Donna wasn’t busy working in the Hotel, you did almost everything together, sat by the beach while you used her as your muse for writing or you two cuddled on the couch.

You had sent your work to a publisher in New York when you had gathered a few more poems and one night you received an email. They actually wanted you in New York, the head of the company wanted to meet you first and if everything goes well he wanted to offer you a contract and an apartment in which you could get your words flowing. Although that sounded like a dream to you, so surreal and perfect to be true, your true new home was the island and the mere thought about leaving was too much. That’s why you didn’t tell Donna. You weren’t sure if this was the right time or if she’d even care.

„Why did they have to leave her out, just because she couldn’t pay for the country club?” the thing you loved about her, was that she always commented on the movies you watched. „It seems unfair to me,” you added and snuggled closer. You were partly on your laptop to check your mails for a confirmation on an order you placed. She was holding you close while her head was resting on yours. It was the smell of the ocean that comforted you and made your eyelids heavy. You had never stayed overnight at her house because you didn’t know if that was alright for her, so you fought against tiredness. Few strands of her hair slightly covered your eyes which only caused you to give in to your exhaustion more.

The steady sound of the movie and her beating heart made you even more tired until you couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer. A comforting wave of sleep hit you and soon you were comforted in a dream. It wasn’t until the woman you’d fallen asleep on moved abruptly, that you woke up. „Ouch,” you murmured and your head jolted in an upward direction. „I’m sorry I didn’t mean to wake you,” Donna sounded weird but you brushed it off due to the late hour. „Don’t worry, is everything alright?” you then asked while straightening your back. Only a light hum was a response to your question, she then focused on the movie again. Minutes passed and your eyelids started to feel like cement. „Okay, you know what? It’s not okay. I know going through your things wasn’t right, but your laptop was open and I’ve seen the email from the publisher and internally I’m going mad and-“

„Stop,” it was a short but loud enough interruption of her rambling. Donna's eyes grew wide. „I don’t mind if you’re going through my things, but before you assume something you could’ve asked me, because I wasn’t planning on going,” you didn’t want to snap in that way. Only a regretful „Oh..” broke the uncomfortable silence. You felt bad for speaking to her in that tone. „I’m sorry but I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, I just found you.” A small but proud smile formed on your lips, maybe the feelings were mutual. „I’m not going anywhere,” you quietly replied. Both of you started staring at the screen of the tv again, wordlessly. „Y/n?”

You hummed in response. „I think I love you.” „You think?” you laughed, „because I might love you too.” Her hands quickly found your face and pulled you in her direction, „Is that alright?” A slight nod confirmed and Donna’s lips found yours. They moved against yours in sync and that’s when you first noticed how soft they were, she tasted like peach and lavender. „Your hair’s so soft,” she mumbled when she stopped for air, after that Donna quickly found your lips again. „And your cute when you’re all worried,” you added when you gasped for air.

That night you stayed with Donna and fell asleep cuddling her. She wore a blue pyjama with puppies all over it, you were gushing over how adorable she looked.

—♡︎

„Come on we’re going to be late for the ferry if you don’t hurry up,” Donna rushed past you to turn off the kitchen lights. „Yeah yeah don’t rush me or I’m never gonna finish,” you replied and closed your suitcase. You were going home for your father's birthday and they wanted to meet the woman that you couldn’t stop talking about. „Ready?” „Yes.” Donna stretched out her hand for you and pulled you after her. „I hope they’ll like me,” she pondered while loading the suitcases in the trunk. „They will absolutely love you, trust me,” you said and helped her closing up.

The ferry was crowded as usual and you two barely had enough space so Donna demanded you to sit on her lap. „I hope we’re gonna catch our flight,” the woman mumbled and nervously checked her wristwatch. „Don’t sweat it, we’re gonna make it on time it’s still early,” you cackled, knowing that she was nervous. The ferry sailed over the water just as gracefully as a bull in a china shop. When the ferry reached the mainland, Donna and you quickly rushed to a cab and drove to the nearest airport. The sky was flawlessly blue, not a cloud could be seen.

Not a lot of people decided to fly to England on that day, you could count 17 people at the checkpoint. In the meantime Donna was a nervous wreck, the woman constantly fidgeted with the keychains. „Ew your hands are sweaty,” you joked when you took hers in yours, „don’t be afraid, I’m with you the whole time.” Donna forced a smile on her face then followed you on the airplane. It wasn’t a long flight, maybe four or five hours. The start was a rough patch, Donna’s anxiety of flying was at its highest and she was seemingly about to throw up. Luckily you could talk her down and she soon fell asleep.

Arriving in London Southend, which was close to your parent's house, your girlfriend's nerves seemed to be calmed and you almost thought she’d taken something. „Let’s get out of here, my brother’s gonna pick us up,” you declared as both of you got your luggage. „He’s very much into cars and all that stuff, so if he’s annoying you just tell him to shut up, I do this every time.” „Oh I hope it’s not getting too complicated so that I can keep up,” she stifled a laugh and cheerily followed you along to the exit. As usual, your brother couldn’t shut up about the new cars he is about to tune, but luckily the ride was only about 40 minutes.

Your father was fascinated by Donna, the two of them got along quite well and even your mother seemed to approve of your choice this time. There have been a few women she wasn’t fond of, almost hated them and in retrospect, she was right about them. As it got darker outside, your father's guests said their goodbyes and left one by one until only the five of you were left at the table. „We’re gonna go to bed, it’s getting late and I’ve got work tomorrow,” your father declared and clapped his hands on both of his legs before getting up. „Yeah me too,” your brother said.

„Wanna sit in front of the fireplace for a while?” you asked as all of them were gone. „Absolutely.” „Thanks for coming, I was afraid you wouldn’t like my family because of how crazy they are sometimes,” you whispered when you draped a blanket over the both of you. „They’re all lovely people, I’m happy they don’t seem to hate me,” Donna joked. „They don’t, they love you but maybe not as much as I do,” you sweet-talked. Her finger booped your nose before she planted a quick kiss on your forehead. „Can I hold your hand?” she quietly asked. You nodded, feeling her soft palms against yours was enough to make you feel safe. While you sat there watching the fire die out, the grip around Donna got tighter, fearing she’d be gone as soon as the sun rises. But she wasn’t, she was still there in the morning and the morning after and so on. You were happy with her, happier than you would’ve imagined.

* used a poem from atticus

[shotorozu]

Heya! I love your writing. Could I request scenarios for Bakugou, Kirishima, Todoroki, Midoriya and Denki (if that’s ok, and if not, just cut Denks 😔) with a S/O that snorts when they laugh and their a little insecure about it, so they usually cover their mouth as soon as it happens or just try not to laugh at anything and as a result they put up this serious front when, in reality, they are really just ✨a crackhead✨

s/o that doesn’t like their laugh

character(s) : bakugou katsuki, kirishima eijirou, midoriya izuku, todoroki shouto, kaminari denki

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns, quirk not specific

headcanon type : fluff, crack-ish (if you squint, there’s a dash hurt and comfort)

note(s) : PLS i can relate to this, my laugh is a cross hybrid of a window being cleaned, and a hyena 🗿 i normally don’t write 5 characters in one post but.. exceptions will be made. sorry that this took so long! will go back to writing requests

»»————-　♡　————-««

bakugou katsuki

he was very confused, and shocked?? it was a lot

you and him are very similar, like,, out of all the people in 1-A, he’s never seen you laugh like.. hysterically.

it was always normal for him to surpress his laughter when the times are right. but even when you guys got together, he never saw you laugh

which was just a “hm.. okay? wtf, i haven’t seen them laugh before??” moment

and don’t get me wrong, it’s not like you’re emotionless, and he HASN’T seen you laugh, it’s more like you just cut yourself off before it gets too intense

which is.. 🤨 weird. to him at least

laugh if you need to laugh, he doesn’t get why you always cut yourself off, like smh the audacity

okay so imagine this, you’re sitting in the kitchen— only a few feet away from katsuki, as he finishes cooking for you, just like any normal day

but i also headcanon that bakugou likes to taste test his cooking, before he can serve it to you. y’know— just in case he accidentally used bad ingredients which is rare, since he’s very precise with cooking

so he prepares the plate and utensils, and before he serves it to you— he takes a quick taste to see how it is, but his face immediately twists in disatisfaction

“what the fuck—” he sputters, looking at the plate “who the fuck switched the salt and sugar?”

and that seemed to be your breaking point, you immediately burst out into a fit of giggles and snorts, even with katsuki still recovering from the weird after taste.

if it was any other person, he would’ve chucked them out of the kitchen— but seeing you laugh out loud like this left him appalled

but your laughing episode is cut short when you realize that katsuki’s just staring. not saying anything, nor is he telling you off for laughing.

his expression looks so indifferent from seeing you laugh?? so you simply just apologize “sorry, i know the laugh is ugly.”

katsuki quickly snaps out of it, ruby irises glaring at you “ugly? when the hell did i say that?” he questions, voice gruff

your silence makes him think that you’re actually insecure about your laugh, an despite the weird aftertaste in his mouth, he decides to speak

“look, it was nice seeing you laugh, idiot.” he adds, because it sounded a little too nice “i don’t get why you have to hold your laughter back, especially around me. laugh if you need to, i’m not gonna judge you.”

plus, he’s not the person to judge you for your laugh anyway, his laugh.. is questionable for sure. i wouldn’t say it’s any better, so that would’ve be hypocritical of him

“you sure?”

“hell yeah i’m fuckin’ sure! but anyway, i’m gonna kill the bitch that switched the salt and sugar!” he gets up from the table, plate in hand as he goes to fix the meal

he surely can’t see your face right now, but when he hears you laugh, he can’t find himself not being able to smile.

he can only look forward to seeing you laugh again.

kirishima eijirou

his first reaction was :00 and 😳

so he was kind of left to his own thoughts when he realized that,, he hasn’t seen you laugh wildly before

and it’s not like you were just 😐 the entire time, you just always covered your mouth whenever you wanted to laugh

it was a big mystery to him, but he doesn’t think it’s quite manly to ask you that, it wasn’t long before he found out anyway

so! i headcanon that kirishima has his lil gaming night with the bakusquad maybe once or twice a week, they usually choose to communicate through the voice chat so.. no physical interaction.

and you’re just there, spectating the entire thing. because you still wanted to spend time with eijirou— but you didn’t want to interrupt his weekly gaming moment

so there’s a twist— he was actually playing a rpg multi-player horror game with the bakusquad, so.. jumpscares, am i right?

you were just sitting there on his bed, just watching if there’s anything interesting so far— and surprise! there’s a jumpscare.

eijirou jumps a little from the impact, and you can just hear the faint girlish screams of bakugou and kaminari, even from this length— basically telling all of them to just fucking dip! run the other way!

AND YOU WEREN’T EXPECTING BAKUGOU TO SCREAM SO.. HIGH PITCHED?

so you just start laughing when you hear the continuous screams, from his headset rip kiri’s ear drums and while kirishima tried to focus on the objective, he couldn’t help but turn around

just to see you laughing your ass off. and he’s there like 😳 they’re laughing?? they’re laughing!

so kirishima quickly finishes the game, but he just found himself in a state of shock. but then you covered your mouth so :(( aw.

you notice that he finished his game, so you just stop laughing entirely “oh— are you finished, eijirou?”

he’s still kind of taken aback by the laugh, and you seem to have noticed his reaction “wait, did you.. hear that?”

when you see eijirou nod, your expression seemed shell shock— which confused him, until you told him that you assumed that he didn’t hear you because of the headphones

“what? is it bad?” he asks with genuine curiousity, but you just explain that you’re just embarrassed. because the laugh itself is ugly

which kirishima disagrees!! >:(( your laugh had him in awe. he loves seeing you laugh, and it was a nice surprise.

“i love hearing you laugh! it makes me happy— i don’t see any reason that you should be ashamed of it, everyone’s laugh is different, after all.”

you’d say he’s lying, but the genuine toothy grin on kirishima face convinces you that he has the purest intentions.

midoriya izuku

now that i’ve thought about it, have we ever seen this boy burst into laughter?? this excludes the hospital scene of course.

but he’s not too concerned about himself not being able to freely laugh, but it was more like he was curious (or concerned) about you

you’re always quick to either cut yourself off, or you just cover your mouth entirely. and he can’t help but feel curious!

he asked you at some point on why you do those things when you laugh, but you just shrugged. so until that point, it was just simply a mystery— that’s left to his own imagination

so whenever midoriya creates new moves with his quirk, he’d have the sudden desire to show his s/o and ask if the move would be practical in anything. because why not

and we all know how much midoriya trains right? he’s quite the hard worker. but you were taking a nap in the afternoon, after finishing your school work for the day

it’s probably reaching 3pm now, and izuku finished making new moves with his quirk, and he was eager to show you!

he didn’t want to do this but he ended up waking you up anyway, and he brought you outside to show you the new moves

“look at this, Y/N!” he says, all excited oh boy

what he didn’t expect was how fast he was going— missing the entire key move, and he started plummetting to the ground (similar to a ragdoll being thrown)

you were still partially dowsy, and you weren’t expecting him to fall to the ground like THAT, so you started laughing hard

and because you’re still drowsy, you don’t recognize that you’re actually laughing— yeah, izuku may be still on the ground, but wow. you’re laughing!!

he’s surely taken back, because he’s never actually seen you burst into laughter like this, he was just

yet, you immediately slap your hand over your mouth— when you realize that you’re actually laughing out loud, and snorting in front of your boyfriend wjdnwkx

“i’m sorry, izuku” you regain composure, immediately rushing to his aid to help him up, “you didn’t need to hear, or see that.”

but why are you apologizing? he’s the one that dragged you out here to see him fail 💀 “no, no! it’s fine Y/N. i was just surprised, that’s all.”

the expression on his face kind of worries you— because omg what if he thinks the laugh was ugly? i’ll never laugh again.

“i’d understand if you’d think my laugh was kind of ugly, izu—”

“what— it’s not ugly!” he’s quick to object “i think.. it’s really nice. it surprised me, but your laugh’s interesting! in the good way, and it’s also kind of cute, uhm—.” pls don’t give him a heart attack

you shake your head, because you already have a good idea of what he feels— and it’s quite positive. “i get it, izuku. thank you for the reassurance.”

he finally calms down when you give him a quick smooch on the lips. in short, you were the one to calm him down rip

todoroki shouto

he’s definitely curious about it

i mean, it’s a natural occurence at this point— shouto was already observant of you, what more when he started developing feelings for you

once again, not someone who freely laughs (he’s quite oblivious with the socializing part so it’s too be expected) but that doesn’t mean you should mirror him

like midoriya, he probably tried speaking to you about it— but you always reassured him that it was just a subconscious habit still odd but.. if you say so

so, shouto’s downstairs in the kitchen right? he’s preparing a snack to bring up to your room, and while he was trying his best to hurry up with it

you eventually trekked downstairs, and saw shouto preparing said snack. so what do you do? you surprise him!

“shouto!” you peak behind him, and he’s startled because he thought he was alone this entire time

so— he might’ve accidentally started a mini fire out of shock, and he’s quick to realize that

🧍 there’s a fire. that i’ve created. it was a miracle that he didn’t set off the alarms

the situation is handled pretty quickly, since he’s fast enough to put out the fire. but now, shouto’s just staring at the burned piece of snack.

silence.

“..there was an attempt.” he says it simply, while also equipped with a rather frazzled expression.

this causes you to burst out into a fit of laughter, snorting at the scene in front of you— the comment being oddly hilarious

he’s the personification of 🧍right now, and shouto’s just watching at the rare scene of you hunched over the kitchen counter, snorting from laughter

“i’m sorry, shouto.” you cover your mouth, still trying to regain your composure “i’m sorry that i scared you but.. it was kind of funny.”

shouto’s just thinking “..they were laughing.” not in a bad way, of course. he’s heard people laugh at his ‘jokes’ but this was definitely a different feeling.

shouto being well,, shouto. he’s going to be blunt with his words “your laugh is pretty.”

but your first reaction is 👁👁?? PRETTY?? “shouto, out of all the things my laugh could be— you chose pretty?” you’re looking at him like he’s crazy rn

he’s really confused like,, “yeah. your laugh is pretty, is that bad?”

so then you explain that you just never perceived your laugh as pretty, only because you ‘snorted like a pig’ he thought that was a little sad to hear

“i don’t see a reason that you should be ashamed of your laugh, Y/N.” he moves closer, setting a cool hand on your shoulder “every part of you is special in their own individual way. and i’ll love every part of it.”

“you,, mean that? like really??” you ask, and he confirms it with a nod, resting his head against your shoulder “i’m sorry that i burned your snack.”

“it’s fine. i’m sorry i scared you,”

“if it made you laugh then.. i’d say it’s worth it.” and you can’t really think that he’d lie, just by the way his mismatched eyes stare at you in pure adoration.

kaminari denki

the only person here that laughs freely whenever and wherever, he has that class clown type of beat

he was a little sad to see that you always covered your mouth whenever you laughed, since it sort of makes his day to see people laugh at his jokes

but of course, he’d never judge you— he may be curious about certain things but,, he’ll never secondguess you as a whole

similar to todoroki and midoriya, he’ll ask you in a lighthearted way on why you cover your mouth whenever you laugh

and you always brush it off, so he’d just have to respect that

i’d imagine that he’d encounter your laugh when you guys are doing your daily cracktivities

you guys were already quite good friends before you guys started dating, and this was quite a habit that always occurred maybe once or twice a week

the both of you were desperately trying to hold in the laughter that threatened to escape your lips, at 2am 💀

and the both of you guys were watching compilations of that talent show livestream on youtube (tiahra nelson’s to be specific)

so you’re still holding in your laughter, and reaches to that point in the video, where tiahra nelson was watching that dude sing ‘electric love’ (ref : this video)

seeing denki’s shocked reaction made you realize that— you just can’t hold it in anymore, so, you bursted into a fit of snorts and laughter, sliding onto denki’s shoulder

denki’s still holding in his laughter because he doesn’t want to get busted by iida or something— but oh my, YOUR LAUGH IS CONTAGIOUS TO HIM

he’s never heard you laugh this hard but omg, your laugh is contagious as hell— so he starts laughing with you 💀

eventually, the laughing does die down— and you guys move on to the next video. it’s oddly quiet at first, because the realization had just hit you and hard

you snorted in front of your boyfriend, and you’re sure that he doesn’t care that much but,, wow, you are embarrassed.

“wow— your laugh is contagious,” denki slides his hand across your shoulder, and while he’s been trying to keep the atmosphere at it’s normal, he’s quite nervous??

“it was a new experience uhm, sorry, i don’t know what i’m saying, and i know you’d be insecure about it all and..” he fumbles with his words for a bit, because denki isn’t THE BEST with serious things

“your laugh is cute.” his eyes are glued onto the screen, and his tone is basically stating that he’s right. your laugh is really cute

“you’re cheesy,” you playfully smack his chest, but you can’t help but feel quite bashful of his words

no but really,, whenever you laugh, denki starts to laugh along with you, since it’s so contagious he’s not that sorry about it

moving past the sappy shit, it’s quite helpful in cracktivities 💀

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i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

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