#and we already know the ending to the movie.

[unluckilyimnot]

Playing with their hair – aether, kinich, wanderer, rin, sae, sakura

note: i'm just in love with aether and kinich recently and i needed to write something with aether's hair so why not had some of my fav characters along with them. that's probably not really good but i guess it's cute. ooc

m.list | rules

Aether is used to your hands suddenly laying on his hair, running through them when you walk behind him – it’s like an urge, you just have to. You stopped on your track, bowing to kiss his head, inhaling his shampoo a little and hummed at the sweet scent.

“You took my shampoo again,” you mentioned, not in a warning way, more like you appreciate it. He nodded lightly, delighting himself from the feeling of your hands still running through his hair, scratching his scalp a little before kissing it again.

Sensing that you’re about to go away, his hands take yours gently and his head bent down to look up at you. “Already leaving ? We can both take a break…” he said, subtly implying you to not stop yet, making you giggle.

“Sure, we can.”

That’s basically how he ended up sitting on the floor between your thighs, watching a movie while you brush his hair for him, kindly letting your fingers run down his beautifully long hair – trying small, low buns to one high ponytail.

“Having fun ?” You can hear the smile in his voice, amused as always when he let you enjoy his hair more than he does.

“Always.” you said while kissing his nose from above, hiding the tv from his sight for a mere second but he still whines at you for doing so. Such a crybaby.

Kinich sighs as he feels your hands examining his hair again. “Would you stop doing that ?”

He knows you’re not doing this to annoy him, yet it always kind of stresses him to picture you scanning his scalp without any invitation to do so. He also knows that you don’t care about what he says, continuing to play with his hair while you swipe away some dandruff here and there.

“What’s the matter,” you talked back, seemingly frustrated. “You never say anything when it’s to help you fall asleep.” you argued, feeling really satisfied when he doesn’t find anything to say after that. It for sure helps a lot, he can’t argue with that, but he really hoped you could realize that it works all the time and not only when he wants it to – which means he was getting sleepy, slightly closing his eyes while he still had a lot to do.

A satisfied sigh escaped his lips before he could hold it in and you hummed teasingly. Your hands moved from his head to his chest, your arms caging him against you and you laid your head on top of his. “Tired already ?”

“Shut it.” he sounded harsh but he still rested against your chest as well, feeling at peace being so close to you. He wasn’t really tired but if you let him, Kinich would for sure appreciate some quality time with his head in your chest and your hands in his hair. Not that he’ll say it to you.

Wanderer honestly never mind when you ask him if you can play with his hair, he’s usually already busy and not moving so someone touching his hair while studying doesn’t change much for him. He won’t say that it doesn’t make it easy to concentrate since he, sometimes, tends to focus on this more than on the words written in front of him but he still appreciates how peaceful it makes him feel when he’s particularly worried or stressed.

Your hand running through his short strands of hair takes him somewhere else where he doesn’t need to worry as much, he likes it, even if he would never be physically capable of telling you.

“You’re braiding it ?” he asks, half absent in his question – he just wanted to confirm the feeling of your fingers brushing past his cheeks repeatedly. You hummed softly in response, leaving the braid dying the second you let it go since his hair was too short to handle it. It doesn’t discourage you though, and before he can ask what you’ll do next, he can already feel your steady movement back to the same scheme and a soft chuckle left his lips.

“You want me to stop ?” you asked under your breath, probably still concentrated on what you were doing but still caught his sigh.

“No, it’s fine. Go on.” he assured before stepping back again into his study, more than relaxing by this short break.

Rin loves movie dates to his core, but it always gets him when you start touching his hair in the middle of the movie. It's like he's never getting used to it and he's jolting a bit every single time, making you chuckle. But you always kiss his head as an excuse after. 

There's something relaxing when your fingers start to twirl around his short hair, making him wonder who appreciates it the most between you and him. Because he for sure loves it. 

His mind drifts away easily despite himself and how badly he wants to follow the movie. He always finds some way to lean into you, craving for more like a cat and more often than not, he ends up laying on top of you. 

“Don't fall asleep this time Rin,” you joke while scratching his head playfully. He simply nodded, absorbed in the movie more than you gave him credit for. He just didn't want you to stop.

Sae hates it when he feels your hands finding his hair in the middle of the day. He spends quite some time styling his hair in the morning, even if it doesn’t look like it, and you being nearby automatically becomes a danger for that.

Not that he doesn’t like you touching his hair, he’s fond of it, he wishes he could die with you touching his hair, but not during the day. So as soon as he feels it, he immediately gets up and warns you. “Please don’t.”

But he knows it can't be helped and soon your lips meet his, kissing him sweetly – your successful way to distract him – so you can end up with your hands reaching the hair in his neck. Twirling your fingers around it, pulling ever so slightly to annoy him but he still lets you. Not without a sigh against your lips, but he knows damn well he can't hold you back when you're determined to do something. 

He wishes he could keep his hair pretty for the day at least once in a while but he can't blame you ; both of you like it very much. He can forget his image for yet another day if that means he can appreciate the relaxing feint of your fingernails on his scalp. Even if lately it's starting to be everyday, he won't mention it – or not seriously. 

Your smile is more precious than some good hair day. 

Sakura still isn't used to you touching his hair, he hasn't been used to gentle gestures in his life before coming here  –  especially regarding his looks. The second your hands find his hair, he flinches by reflex even if he knows that it’s only you around him. He doesn’t turn you down anymore though since you always let him know how you love his hair, for the color or the fluffiness ; it’s just the best thing in the word and it got to be your boyfriend’s hair. You must be blessed. 

You still try not to frighten him too much, and start by touching his shoulders then going up to his neck and finally the hair in the nape of it. Twirling it lightly with your fingers and you’re sure to catch him snapping his head to you with a blush. 

“What are you doing ?!” he asked as always, flustered but not telling you to stop anyway which made you smile sweetly. 

“I’m playing with your hair ? You want me to stop ?” you tilted your head to the side, trying to act cute and confused so he doesn’t have the heart to tell you no. And with a resigned look but his brows still frowned, he compiled without adding anything.It’s a win, once again. 

You then slowly but surely brush through all his hair, tossing it one side to another, mixing the two colors together then separating it again like a puzzle. That’s something you grew to love, separating his hair for him and that’s also your best excuse to touch it even when there’s people around. Even if he’s not fond of it.

He tends to lay a bit in your hand when you do so, or when you stop your hand in his hair, quietly liking the feeling now that you’ve given him some time. Not that he’ll say it to you, never, but he doesn’t need to for you to know. It’s just like you to notice how he relaxes around you and when you do it. There’s a small smile on your lips when he tries to catch your eyes but looks away instantly, blushing again, and it makes you wonder when he’ll stop blushing around you. 

“You’re cute, Haruka,” you said, brushing away his bang to kiss his forehead. And without a second of hesitation – when in fact yes, but you tried to ignore it –  he was arguing with you about how he is NOT cute, simply proving your point again and again.

Let me know if you like it !

[megamindsecretlair]

Hi, beloved! ❤️ Would you be down to write about Terry Richmond using some rope tricks that he learned from his Marine training on reader? 🤭 If not, I completely understand and you’re still amazing !😘

A/N: Forgive me, I know this doesn't technically fit the bill, but this got my mind spinning. Let me know if you want a more faithful response.

Touch Me Like You Care

Pairing: Daddy Dom!Terry Richmond x Sub!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female), fingering (fem receiving), teasing, size kink, dirty talk, mean Terry, daddy kink, praise kink, spanking, lite bondage, overstimulation, reader is able to be picked up, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some, rushing.

Summary: See Ask. Story by @uniqueoutlierblog . Terry comes home to find you reading in bed, all thoughts of getting dressed out of your mind as you rest. He was prepared to let you, truly, but then he finds that you’re not wearing the bracelets he bought you. And well, he can’t let that slide, can he?

Word Count: 4,475k

AO3 Link

A/N: @planetblaque knows I can deny her nothing!! Whew, everytime I think I can take a break from this man, ya'll pop out with all of these amazing fics! I'm so over the moon to see so much activity. We fr just tossing this man around like a beach ball and I love that for us!!! Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

You pulled your dresser open and searched for your favorite pair of thigh high socks. Ever since the weather turned, you were back to shivering every two seconds, feeling colder than a witch’s broomstick no matter what you did. 

After a refreshing shower, you opted to dry under your blanket hoodie, feeling the need to retreat from having to be “on” all the time. Navigating the world as a Black woman was fucking exhausting. 

You picked up your phone, scrolling through your latest dirty book. There was a subtle increase in Black led romances that were making you stay up to the wee hours of the morning reading. The latest book was absolutely filthy from your favorite author. The anticipation for this book had been immense, the group chat blowing up with speculations and guesses.

The book was getting better, when the couple who swore they hated each other was about to fuck that tension out since fighting got them nowhere. You squealed, picking up the nearest pair of socks. You tore your gaze away long enough to put your socks on.

You looked around the room for your blanket hoodie. It was sitting on the famous chair, piled on top of a mountain of clothing that was near toppling over. You grabbed the hoodie and then checked in on your phone. 

Oh, the tension. The passion. It just ate you up inside when the characters got to that part. Confessing their love in drunken confessions or in the middle of an argument. Ouee, your body was on fire just thinking about it. Your pussy clenching at the details. The rich words creating a movie in your mind’s eye.

Abandoning your hoodie, you laid across the bed and decided to air dry. With the way this book was going, you might need a second shower. You rested your head on your closed fist and let your mind drift, picturing the scene.

You didn’t hear when your boyfriend called your name after he arrived home. Or how his heavy footfalls padded down the hallway to your bedroom. Or how he called your name again when he stood in the doorway. You didn’t hear the subtle camera click as a picture was taken.

Somewhere between the fifth and…counting?... sex scene, you ended up on your tummy, legs high behind you, tapping your socked feet together. You were literally kicking your feet as the characters kept telling each other that they hated each other as they were clutching onto each other for dear life. 

You sighed. You simply ate this shit up. You were already mentally typing up your notes for your review on Goodreads. Ouee, maybe you should start keeping a side notebook. Just to jot down bullet points so your scatterbrained mind didn’t forget a single detail. 

Fingers reached across your ass and you yelped, looking behind you ready to scream. Terry stood behind you, his head tilted and a smirk on his luscious face. You choked out a laugh, rolling to one side so you could look at him better. 

He looked damn good in gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt. Terry slid his fingers absently across your bare ass, tracing the globes up and down. Your body shivered, pussy clenching with need. You gazed at your man. At the smooth planes and lines of his face, the cut of jaw, those big pink lips. 

“You didn’t hear me calling you?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Sorry,” you said, giving him a cutesy grin. 

His lips twitched but he didn’t let himself smile. “You’re not cute. You have to be more aware of your surroundings,” he said. 

“Yes, sir,” you said, nodding. “Though to be fair, the only man getting in here is you.”

“Mhm,” he said, nodding his own head. “You reading your dirty books?” 

“Yes! You remember my favorite author?” You asked. 

Terry nodded, hiking his eyebrow up as he encouraged you to tell him all about your favorite author. And the book you were currently reading. “And I just got to the good part,” you said.

Terry chuckled and nodded. “Okay, I’ll leave you to it,” he said. He trailed his fingers between your legs as he moved away and you gasped. For two reasons. On the one hand, Terry’s hands on you always instantly put you in the mood. With your pussy already wet, you were thinking it was a good time for a break. 

On the other hand, you forgot that you had taken off your gifts from him while you showered. It was the only time you were allowed to do so. You meant to put the ankle and thigh bracelet back on when you lotioned up but plum forgot.

Terry stopped and you could feel his stare. It burned in the back of your head. Your heart thumped in your chest. You had no idea what he was going to do.

“Baby,” Terry’s deep timbre was a physical caress down your spine. You stretched your back and bit your lip. 

“Yes, Big Daddy,” you said, pitching your voice higher. 

“Where are your bracelets?” He rubbed his thumb across your thick thigh. The weight of those words pressed down on you, making you want to retreat in your mind. You began to pant, feeling out of sorts. You were so turned on you could barely breathe. But you were also worried about what kind of punishment you were about to receive. 

“I just showered,” you said. You rolled so that you could look at his pretty face. To at least try to gauge where his mind went. Terry stopped you by wrapping his hand around your thigh. 

“I believe you. But you’re out of the shower now,” he said. 

“I really forgot this time,” you said. 

Terry sighed, the sound like a coin drop in an empty room. “You know what we have to do now, right?” He asked.

“You sure I can’t bargain out of this one? I can be pretty cute, you said so,” you said. 

“Up,” he said, his calm voice making matters worse. You may as well have been pleading your case to a brick wall. There was no changing his mind.

You got to your knees and then flipped over, scooting to the edge of the bed. Terry rolled his shoulders as he moved to your closet. He pulled a pine green box down from the top shelf. 

He placed the large, repurposed gift box on your dresser and opened it. Cheery snowmen looked at you from the painted edges as Terry rummaged around. He drew out a pair of leather cuffs and crossed over to you.

You pouted at him as he strapped the cuffs to your wrists. There was a small golden link between them keeping it connected and not giving you much room to escape. You tested the pull on it as you tried to separate your wrists. No dice. 

Terry grabbed the link and pulled you into a standing position. He sighed deeply, his voice a rumbling thunder behind it with a hum as he stared you down. “I had plans to treat you so well when I got back,” he said. 

“Fuck,” you said, the curse flying fast. You rubbed your thighs together, staring up into his pretty colorful eyes. Every time you looked at them, they were a different color. You loved to see the changes, especially this up close. His eyes went more brown when he was like this, when he’d sunk into that role of being in charge. Of being protective. 

He kissed your cheek, softly, reverently, his juicy lips leaving a small wet spot behind. He moved down to your lips, not quite kissing you. He hummed and smirked. “Whatever happens, just know that I love you, okay?” 

“Terry,” you huffed. His name was a plea and a curse all in one. You didn’t know what was worse. Knowing the torture was coming or having to live through it. Your thighs were on fire, burning with the need to have him between them. 

He pulled you closer by the cuffs, kissing you completely this time. He brought his free hand up to cup your cheek, hands warm. You licked his lips and he moaned. “Nice try,” he said against your lips. 

He said that, but you stepped closer, rubbing yourself against his growing bulge. He chuckled, letting you, looking down while you rubbed on him. He grinned and then grabbed your shoulders, turning you around. He pushed you down. You let out a soft oomph, flopping onto the bed. 

He grabbed your hips, pushing you further up your big ass bed. He positioned you how he wanted, close to the edge, but not so close that he didn’t have free range behind you. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you could only hear him moving around behind you.

It sounded like he was rummaging through the goody box again. You sighed. Digging your toes into the bed. “Start reading,” he commanded, voice sharp.

How the hell were you supposed to read anything? You hesitated, looking at your phone. There was no way you’d be able to concentrate and he knew that. 

“Baby,” you said and licked your lips. 

Terry said nothing and again, you felt his gaze bearing down on you. You whimpered as you grabbed your phone, unlocking it, and swiping back to your phone. You began reading aloud, reading about the sex scene you were in the middle of. 

Reading it aloud to Terry, picturing him as the main male character, you were miserably wet. Dripping practically. You sighed, thinking of your ruined bed. You’d have to spend tonight doing laundry. 

Terry’s massive hand slapped across your ass, the recoil loud enough to rival a gunshot. You squealed, falling forward onto the bed. Heat bloomed between your thighs, warming up your core to a dangerous level. 

It still really fucking hurt though. Your ass stung and you swore that you could feel aftershocks of his hand, slapping across your ass over and over. “Fuck, fuck!” You yelled out. 

“Keep reading,” he said. 

You got back to your knees and arched your back like he positioned you in before. You returned to reading out loud, pussy throbbing at the way the words made you feel. You got to an explicit part when Terry’s hands came back down. He smacked your ass a handful more times, covering a wide area and making your ass light up like a Christmas tree.

Tears welled in your eyes from the pain and the pleasure. It was too much stimulation. “Please, please, fuck me. I can’t take it,” you whimpered. The words on your phone swam in your vision as your body contracted with shivers. Both from the radiating waves of heat and the burn low in your belly. 

Terry rubbed his hands across your ass and you screamed, kneeling away from his hands. Wherever he touched, your ass sang with pain. “Are you going to remember to put your bracelets on?” 

You nodded. “Yes, I swear,” you said. 

Terry shoved his fingers between your legs, plunging right up your pussy. You collapsed onto the bed, twitching. “Mhm, I didn’t give you permission to cum,” he said. 

“Daddy, pleaseeee,” you pleaded, lower belly twinging with the pain of fighting off your orgasm. 

“You can get wetter than this, baby,” he said. 

“I can’t,” you said, drool seeping into the navy covers beneath you. Your face was smashed into the bed, no way to hold yourself up while his fingers stroked your walls. The loud squelching of your pussy, wet because of him, made you clench around his fingers and moan. 

He placed his free hand on your ass, giving you the dual sensation of sweet torture and cruel relief. He moved his fingers faster, stretching you out with his long, thick fingers. You rode yourself on his fingers, throwing it back and he moaned. He smacked your ass more lightly this time, more in encouragement than anything else. 

“Please let me cum. Please let me cum,” you said, legs twitching. You couldn’t hold off any longer. 

Terry leaned down over your body, placing his lips as close to your ear as he could get it. “Nahhh,” he said slowly, a subtle rasp in his voice. You bit your lip and rode him harder, showing him that you needed more. “Gotta earn that shit.” 

You sobbed into your bed, tears streaming freely. You were about to explode. Come undone at the seams. “Daddy, please. Pleaaseee. Pleaaasseeee, ouee, pleeasseee,” you moaned, desperately riding his fingers. 

“You know what Daddy needs,” he said. 

Tears leaked freely, mixing with the drool and pooling onto the covers. Your mind turned to mush, no longer able to keep reading. Your moans were loud and near screaming. Your throat raw with the effort. Your essence flooded his fingers and he hummed in satisfaction. 

“There’s my good girl,” he purred. He suddenly flipped you over, not giving you a chance to work with him. He was too impatient, too needy, too rough as he positioned you on your back. He pushed your arms above your head, giving you a look. You planted your hands above your head and knew better to move them. 

It pushed your breasts up, giving him a total view of your chest. He groaned, eyes tracking to your pert nipples. Terry folded you in half, scooting his thighs beneath your back, holding you spread open for him. 

He placed soft kisses to your wet pussy, lips smacking from your juices. “Baby, I can’t hold it no more,” you said.

“You’re gonna hold it because Daddy told you to,” he said, his voice brooking no argument. You whimpered, whined, trying to breathe through being folded like a pretzel. 

Your toes brushed against the bed with every rocking motion from Terry as he got himself comfortable. He continued kissing your pussy, stopping to look back and stare at your pussy. His lips began to glisten with your essence. 

You groaned, a primal, possessive side of you jumping out. You marked your claim. It was your juices on him. Your essence feeding him. 

“Daddy, please,” you cried out. From this position, you saw his face perfectly. He stared at your pussy like a man possessed. Like a greedy man with the richest treasure in the world. Your heart softened just as your pussy throbbed. 

Terry smirked. “Pretty fuckin’ pussy. She miss me?” He asked. As if you hadn’t gone two and half rounds when you woke up this morning. As if he wasn’t driving you insane nearly every time you got within two feet of each other. 

“Yes, Daddy, she missed you,” you moaned. 

“Yeah? She gon’ be good and cum when I say?” He asked. He stared at you from beneath his long eyelashes framing his stormy blue eyes while his tongue rolled out of his mouth. He used the tip of his tongue to search through your soaked curls, separate your pussy lips, and flick across that little bundle of nerves. 

“Ouee, shit,” you moaned. Sweat beaded on your forehead. Your heart beat so loudly, it was a miracle he couldn’t hear it. You huffed, watching his tongue work around your clit. Feeling it was even better. His breath was hot across your pussy, making your breaths stutter in your chest.

His lips followed his tongue, going deeper, playing with the rim of your entrance before dipping his tongue inside you. You cried out, belly fluttering. You moved your hands and Terry’s eyes narrowed. 

Fresh tears leaked from your eyes, dripping down the side of your face. “Pleasseee,” you begged. 

“You’re doing so well, already,” he moaned. He sped up, licking you, eating you, devouring you as he lapped at your pussy. Fresh essence dripped out of you and he licked that up too. He moaned, burying his nose and face into your pussy. He ate like a man starved. Sloppily. Messily. 

“Oue, fuck, ouee,” you screamed.

Terry moved closer, like he was trying to shove his whole face inside of you. His plush lips wrapped around your clit and sucked. 

“Oh fuck! Terry! Terry!” You screamed. Your body began twitching. The orgasm you staved off was coming whether you wanted it to or not. Terry stopped altogether, suspending your body in the midpoint between denial and reprieve. 

Your eyes rolled lazily to him, panting, huffing, body feeling like you had been tossed into a barbeque pit. “T-T-”

Terry tilted his head, tongue flat against your clit. You throbbed and pulsed on his tongue but he didn’t move. Your body retreated from the edge in slow increments, relaxing against him. 

You blinked at him, no longer able to communicate a single thought. Terry’s eyes gleamed with sick pleasure. He hummed, moving his tongue against your clit once more. He brought you to the edge and then denied you the rush of pleasure at the last minute. He did it one more time, letting you relax and then bringing you back to the precipice. 

Your belly cramped so bad. Your mouth stopped working. You couldn’t do anything but pathetically moan as he ate his fill. Your toes brushed against the bed again as he leaned back far enough.

“She too tired now?” He asked.

You shook your head. Furthest thing from it. Terry smirked. “You nice and dumb for me, baby?” He asked. He gave you teasing little licks. You hissed and moaned, eyes aching from how hard you closed them from the torture. 

“Answer me when I’m talking to you,” Terry said, smacking your ass for good measure. It woke you from the fog long enough to nod. 

“Yes, Big Daddy,” you said. 

Terry grinned and then relented, giving in and eating you with a renewed fervor. “You can cum now, baby,” he moaned into your pussy. His tongue and lips teased your clit. His fingers dipped back inside your entrance, coaxing that sweet, sweet orgasm out of you.

You screamed loud enough to wake the dead. Or hell, maybe you joined them. Lights burst behind your eyelids as you came with so much force, you couldn’t breathe. Your pussy ached and throbbed, thighs shaking against Terry’s face as he teased you throughout the whole ride. 

He slowed down as he sensed that you were coming down, drawing out his teasing licks and kisses to your pussy. He pulled back and your essence dripped from his face. He looked like he went swimming in your pussy. His entire jaw was covered, shiny and wet. You wish you could take a picture of him like this.

A long spit chain connected you to him and he moaned, ending on a hiss. “That’s a good fuckin’ pussy,” he huffed as he regained his own breathing. “Turn that ass over.”

Terry lowered you to the bed while he hopped off. He made quick work of his clothes, his huffs and puffs the only indication of how badly he was rushing. You were just a noodle, watching him reveal inches of his bronze skin, the veins in his biceps, the tattoos on his arms.

You traced the tattoos more times than you could count, lips twitching with the urge to do so now. His thighs were equally delicious. As big as tree trunks, a light dusting of hair. And that ass. He turned to the side briefly so he could free his long legs from his underwear and sweats. 

“You are so damn pretty,” you mumbled. 

Terry chuckled. You didn’t think he heard you. “That’s my line,” he said. “And I’m pretty sure I told you what you need to be doing.” 

You couldn’t flip over fast enough, giggling. He’d just bent you over and ate you so well, your leg was still wobbly and shaky. Yet you yearned for more. Yearned for his body surrounding you, protecting you, caging you in his embrace. You were greedy. Needing, wanting, craving more. 

Terry descended onto the bed, roughly grabbing your hips and sliding inside with a savage thrust. 

“Oueeee, SHIT, Daddy!” You screamed. He slid out and then slid back in, coating his long dick with your essence. 

“Cream this shit,” he moaned, sliding inside faster. His massive hands gripped your hips and pulled you onto his punishing dick, ramming into you. “Made for me. You were made for me, weren’t you?” He asked.

“Yes, Daddy, I was made for you,” you moaned. He stretched you beautifully, slamming into you just as rough as you wanted. As you needed. 

“Just a pretty, tight hole for me to abuse whenever I want?” He asked.

You sobbed, tears gathering in your eyes once more. He hit that magical spot inside of you, the spot only he could reach. No other man, not even your toys, could hit that spot with such precision. With accuracy. He was just as much made for you. 

“Yes, Daddy,” you moaned, voice muffled by the covers. The bed dipped as Terry leaned over, planting a fist beside your head to hold up his weight. He used his other hand to grab a handful of braids and yank, baring your throat to him. 

“I wish you could see how creamy you are. Pretty little ring on my dick. So nice and wet,” he cooed into your ear. He pulled your head back so that he could kiss you. His face smelled like you. You moaned and clenched around his dick. He hissed and then growled in your ear. 

“Filling me so deep, Daddy,” you moaned. “So fuckin’ deep, ohmygoood.”

Terry chuckled. He shifted his hips and drove in deeper, possibly down to his base, as he fucked you into the mattress. Your hands stretched out in front of you, gripping onto the covers just trying to meet his thrusts. 

“Untie me, Daddy. Let me feel you,” you begged. 

Terry responded by kissing you, tongue licking your lips. You opened your mouth and played with his tongue. His beautiful, amazing tongue that was capable of the sweetest words and the filthiest things. 

“You don’t know how to behave when you’re free,” he said against your cheek. 

“I’ll behave, I promise,” you whispered. 

Terry moaned, dick throbbing inside you. “I want to believe you,” he said. 

He kept up his brutal, savage thrusts, digging into you and making your belly clench. “Pleasse, Daddy. I want to feel you,” you moaned. 

“All you need to do is feel this dick, baby. Feel how much you mean to me. How much I want to take care of you,” he said.

Each thrust felt like it was going straight to your heart. There was no way you were still flooding his dick. Still making it easier for him to glide and thrust and stroke so far inside you, you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began. 

“Fuck me so good. So well,” you moaned. 

Terry gripped your hips and then pulled you down harder, faster, rougher. You yelped and squealed, stretched out on the bed, trying to escape. Terry yanked you back, fingers digging into your skin harder. 

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” you moaned. Your thighs trembled from trying to hold yourself up from his hold. He kept you in place, filling you, fucking you good and deep. Your eyes rolled back into your head. But still, your body propelled you forward. Both because of his thrusts and because you just couldn’t take any more. All the edging from earlier had you spent. 

“Sit that ass up,” he panted, breaths falling across your damp back. 

“C-Can’t,” you stuttered. 

Terry grunted and pulled you by the hair until you were on your knees. He sat on his haunches, continuing to pound inside you. 

“You keep telling me what you can’t do. But all this time you been takin’ this dick and doing what Daddy tell you to. Do you know how proud I am of you? So pretty when you listen,” he moaned. 

“Fuck, Daddy, please,” you moaned. 

Terry grabbed your arms and pulled it until the cuffs went over his head. It made you thrust out your chest and he grabbed your titties, playing with your sensitive nipples. He pinched and plucked as he fucked you, kissing your neck and biting your shoulder. 

Your pussy made smacking noises on his dick, sounding thick and creamy. You moans mingled in the room, mixing with the pound of the headboard against the wall. You were constantly getting little dents in it from the force of your lovemaking. It was too much. You tried to sit on his lap but he grunted.  “Mhm,” he said, pulling you into a kneeling position one more time. 

“If I gotta stand you up one more time, you ain’t gon’ like it,” he snapped. 

You whimpered and whined but concentrated on holding yourself up. His dick slammed into your walls while he kissed your neck. One hand gripped your titty and squeezed while his other hand searched lower, rubbing two fingers against your pussy. 

You screamed out, unable to hold off this one. It gobbled you up with the force of it. Tearing you down to your roots, breaking you down to your center, to the very last atom that makes you you. You cried out, shaking, twitching. 

Your vision turned black and your right ear rung with a tinny bell as you came and came in rolling waves. One triggered another for an extended orgasm, body jerking uncontrollably. 

“Cum so pretty,” he said. “You ready for this nut?” 

You could only manage a nod as he rolled his shoulders and moaned in your ear while he came, unloading a thick load of cum inside of you. 

There was no more air in your lungs enough to moan. You could only sigh as he warmed you up from the inside, soaking your walls with his cum. Nothing leaked out as he continued to stroke into you.

Your body arched as he stilled, buried to the hilt. He kissed your neck, your cheek, your jaw. He brought the fingers he used to play with your clit up to your mouth and bid you to suck. 

“Taste that?” He asked.

You nodded. Too spent, too tired, to fucked out to do anything else but yawn. Terry chuckled, and slipped out. His cum leaked out with him, sliding down your leg and dripping onto the bed. 

“Sleepy,” you mumbled.

“I know, baby. But let’s run you a bath first and I’ll change these sheets,” he said. He lowered your arms from his neck and then laid you on your side. He gave you a kiss on your forehead. 

“Don’t let me catch you without your bracelets again,” he said.

“Yes, Big Daddy,” you yawned, stretching out onto the bed to await his tender, loving aftercare.

WHEW. If you need more like I do, here ya gooo! The Secret Terry Richmond Files

Taglist: how did this get so big? I love ya'll!

@planetblaque @chaos-4baby @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide

@browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @00aijia00

@judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi @xo-goldengirl @superhoeva

@avoidthings @lovedlover @blackgurlnhermoods @flydotty @sageispunk

@semi-yah @halfreal-and-halffiction @motheroffae @melaninpov @pinkpantheris

@slutsareteacherstoo @blackerthings @dreamsinfocus @brattyfics @mermaidchansons

@monaeesstuff @henneseyhoe @blowmymbackout @charismablu @playgurlxoxo

@misskiki90 @miyuhpapayuh @satoruya @starcrossedxwriter @yamst3rdamctrl

@steampunkprincess147 @sweettea-and-honeybutter @theblacklewinsky @soft-persephone

@thegreatlibraryofalex @amyhennessyhouse @hihellogoodbyebruh @becauseimswagman1

[artificialstardust]

You ask, you shall receive, hehe

So, I am shy person, I don't do sexual things with anyone until I get to know them to a certain level

That inspired my thought like when reader is at Noah's place for movie night and they have a hot make out session with reader straddling Noah's lap and he knows she's too shy, so he just gently leads her hips over his bulge or over his thigh and that leads to an orgasm without being 'really' intimate

No because I understand this so much

Okay SO

Noah came over to your place for your weekly movie night. Tonight’s movie being one you’ve both watched together numerous times before. You were cuddled into him, his arm around you holding you close. “So why are we watching this one again?” He asks, holding you tighter. “Because it’s good and you didn’t say no when I suggested it” you laugh at him. He gives your side a gentle pinch as he chuckles a bit in response.

You reach for a piece of popcorn from the bowl on the coffee table and throw it at him. “Oh so you wanna play that game huh?” He smirks at you. You smile bashfully at him “maybe.” With that he turns to tickle you, sending you into a fit of laughter. His hands going for your sides and neck. You try and grab his hands to get him to stop. “Call truce and I’ll stop” he laughs. “Okay fine” you laugh “truce” and he slowly stops. He lets out a soft chuckle then brings you to sit on his lap.

You rest your hands on his shoulders and just admire him, the sound of the movie becoming a background noise. He brings his hand up to rest of your cheek. “You’re so beautiful” he mumbles. You smile sheepishly at him and look down. He catches you, bringing your face back up to look at him by resting your chin on his index finger. “Don’t hide from me” he says softly. “Wanna see you” he continues, then leans in to kiss you softly. He pulls back and then does it again.

“I love you” he says, the pushes your hair out of your face. “I love you too” you say softly, then lean back in to kiss him. He holds your face gently in one hand. After a few more kisses, he decides to deepen it a little, hearing you let out a soft him gives him to green light to keep going.

Noah deepens it a little bit more, his tongue poking at your lower lip. You open your mouth slightly with a small whine, allowing him entrance. He groans slightly when you do, he pulls you closer to him, his hands on your hips, his right thumb rubbing your hip lovingly. You interlock your fingers around the back of his neck, wanting to stay there forever. This keeps on for a little while longer before you feel him poking at your inner thighs.

You pull away from the kiss and rest your forehead against his. “Noah” you breathe out. “I know baby” he replies “is it okay if I keep kissing you? We don’t need to do anything more if you don’t want to” he says softly. You nod your head, but then he pulls your face to look at him again. “Baby I need words, nod all you want but I want you to say it” he says with a gentle sternness. “Yes, please, keep kissing me” you say softly. “That’s my girl” he smiles, then goes into kiss you again immediately.

You whine at how fast his lips were back on yours, him already deepening it to the same extent. One of his hands leaves your hips to tangle into the back of your hair. He pulls at it gently in an experimental manner. When he hears you moan from it, he smirks into the kiss. “My girl likes that doesn’t she?” He mumbles into the kiss. “Shut up” you say, shy about it. He chuckles slightly then drifts his hand that’s been on your hip down to grab a handful of your ass. A whine comes from you as you rub down against him trying to absentmindedly get some friction. As soon as you hear him let out a deep groan, you register what you just did and freeze up a little. A deep blush forms on your cheeks, while the movement surprised you, you loved the sound he made as a result from it, as well as how good it felt on your end.

“What is it baby?” He asks, seeing the blush on your face. You look at him and see his smug expressions, realizing he knows exactly what just happened. “Did it feel good?” He ask, already knowing the answer. You nod your head yes which causes him to chuckle a little bit. “Thought so, you wanna do it again?” Your blush deepens as you nod again. He smiles slightly then places both hands on your hips, pulling you down a little bit more onto him. The pressure causing both of you to groan a little. “Sound so pretty for me” he says as he starts guiding your hips to grind on him. “Look at me baby, its okay” he says, knowing that acts like this cause you to be shy. “Not going all the way until you say the word, but like this we can both feel good, right sweet girl?” He says reassuringly. You nod and let out a breathy yes. You start to move your hips as he helps to guide you. “There you go baby, you’re doing so good for me” he praises.

You let out a moan, a bit louder this time as you feel him through your shorts, the friction on your clit becoming addicting. You place your hands on his shoulders for better leverage as you start to grind down a little harder on him. “Fuuck” he groans, leaning his head back. He looks back at you and grabs your ass with both hands. “You’re doing so fucking good baby, I’m so proud of you.” You let out a whine at his praise “feels good” you say, a bit of shyness still remaining in your voice.

He cracks a smile hearing you and seeing the blush on your face. He reaches up and pushes your hair behind your ear, both of your breaths becoming heavier. “I know baby” he breathes out, another groan following it. He looks down and watches your hips move against his. He brings his hands down to rest on your hips, his thumbs rubbing against them. “Fuck” he mumbles softly as he watches, almost in a hypnosis by it. A louder moan coming from you snaps him out of it. He looks back up at you. Your face flushed red, your eyes closed, face contorting from the stimulation. A whine follows quickly after from you. He smiles widely, loving how you look like this. His grip on your hips tightens and he helps you move faster on him, pushing his hips up into yours. The sound you make as a result making his dick twitch in his pants.

“C’mon pretty girl” he urges, a moan breaking through his lips. His words make you focus on putting more pressure on your clit with your movements. With his guidance on your hips, you find yourself going a little bit faster, chasing after your release. You lean down and kiss him, one of his hands leaving your hips to tangle into your hair. A high pitched whine leaves your chest, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Right there” you pant. “Is my baby getting close?” Noah says, a smirk laced into his tone. You nod your head, the pressure in your lower stomach increasing drastically. His hand leaves your hair and goes back to your hips. “Let go for me baby” he pants “wanna see how pretty you are when you cum” he groans out.

You whine at his words, the coil finally snapping. You let out a cry as you cum. “That’s my girl” he praises, grinding his hips up into yours, knowing that he can finally allow himself to loose it a little. A couple seconds after, he follows suit. A loud moan spilling from him as he cums in his pants. You both keep grinding as you ride out your highs. Eventually you both come to a still, just leaning against each other as you catch your breaths. “Are you okay baby?” He asks, swallowing. “Yeah, yeah I’m okay” you pant. He takes your face and has you look at him. “You did so good baby, I’m so proud of you” he says softly. He kisses you softly, then presses a kiss to your forehead. “I know that was probably a lot for you” he mumbles against your skin. “It was” you reply, “but i really liked it” you smile up at him. “Yeah?” He smiles back. “I’m so happy you did,” as he brushes the hair out of your face again.

You slowly move off of him so you can sit next to him. “Here” he mumbles, moving to lay horizontally on the couch, bringing you down with him to cuddle. He lets out a content sigh as you settle against his side, your head on his chest. “Thank you for being patient with me about all of this” you say. “I know it’s probably not the easiest, but it means a lot to me” you finish. “For you, I’d wait until the end. As long as you’re happy and comfortable, that’s all I need” he replies, leaning down and pressing another kiss to your hairline.

“I love you baby”

“I love you too Noah.”

[celeborn-of-doriath]

Babes, it is INSANE to me that I haven't seen anyone else post this theory, since IMO it's super obvious how the showrunners are going to bring Celeborn in.

Do y'all know who breaks the siege of Eregion in Unfinished Tales???? Do you? Have they not twice now in two separate episodes talked about how they need ONE MORE ARMY, just one more.??

Gil-Galad already told Elrond they didn't have a big enough army to fight Mordor and at Eregion. Elrond was counting on Durin to solve this problem and now we know Durin can't come. Twice now they've opened that door like "they need one more army where are they going to get one more army."

Celeborn - that's where. that's who. that's how.

Current fandom seems to be focusing on him like a housewife or something which is bizarre to me. I guess maybe this is an effect of the Peter Jackson movies.

Celeborn and Galadriel are the original battle couple, you guys. Always have been. My guy was leading armies into the Battle of Beleriand even before Galadriel came to Middle Earth. By the third age, he has led armies in more battles than any other elf alive at that point except maybe Glorfindel. Dude commanded armies at almost every single battle from before the sun rose through to Sauron's ultimate defeat in the third age. He's a warrior.

Flame me if I'm wrong I guess, but they basically engineered this entire season to debut him in the last episode as leading an army in to save the day at the moment when all other hope is lost. Which... is exactly what happens in the books.

Granted, I have no idea where he is gonna get an army. Maybe he ended up in the east somehow and brings elves from Lorien or Greenwood.

[herefortheships]

Betelgeuse and marriage theory

A Beetlejuice head-canon/theory I have (It's somewhat "Beauty & The Beast" coded 🌹🥀).

Having died poisoned on his wedding night, Betelgeuse's soul is bound by the ritual of marriage.

We already know he will be able to reenter the mortal world if he marries a living person (due to the rules of the afterlife and whatnot), but here's where my head-canon starts:

Bound to the ritual of marriage, if he marries someone he loves, who truly love him back, dead or alive, his soul will be freed and he will be able to pass on to the great beyond next to his beloved (once his beloved passes away as well, assuming she happens to be currently alive *hint hint*). This person has to wear Delores' ring and accept and love Betelgeuse as is. She has to fall in love with his soul. Only loving him truly, wearing the ring, and sealing the deal with a kiss will release him, and that way, in the end, both his soul and his beloved's (it has got to be Lydia, please) can move on peacefully into the great beyond and exist without curses or attachments.

Totally a fantasy in my head because there's no way something like this would happen in canon much to the sadness of my little heart lol, but I thought I'd share it with you all. And who knows, maybe if there's a third movie they will explore what it is about Betelgeuse's character that is so attached to the concept of marriage. Because, listen, maybe the ritual where a ghost marries a living person and can materialize in the living world is something that is bound to the rules of the afterlife, and detailed in the Manual for the Recently Deceased, but the symbols and ritual of marriage is something intrinsic to the character of Betelgeuse itself.

He died on his wedding night, for starters. He was tricked by Delores and fell for her immediately. One could argue he fell quickly because she is so gorgeous and no doubt manipulated him into believing she loved him, and that's definitely part of it, but also, (and I have no doubt about this one), he believed her and fell for her immediately because Betelgeuse wants to be loved. He's a romantic underneath it all, and he wants to love and be loved. He might have been desiring it for a long time, failing to find love throughout his life until he met Delores.

He may exude self-confidence (maybe even to a delulu extent lol) and present himself in this very raunchy way, but inside, I'm sure he desires a genuine love; he wants to love someone and be loved truly. And he died, murdered by his bride on the night of his wedding. Betelgeuse was murdered on the night that should have been the happiest of his life, and his desire for love and a wedding stayed with him beyond the grave, now stained with blood and betrayal and a curse that can only be broken, in my head-canon/theory, by marrying someone who truly loves him, whom he truly loves.

Marriage is definitely a very important theme in Beetlejuice, so it'd be interesting if there's something more underneath it, which could be explored in the next movie if we are so lucky to get it.

[kellyvela]

Sophie confirmed she's shooting The Dreadful next!!!! I'm soo excited <3

YESSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!

It's from this interview for BBC Radio 1's Screen Time:

Here is a transcript from minute 22:45 onwards:

Radio 1's Screen Time: All right, let me wrap up with a classic end, What is next? What are you gonna do next? When will we see you next? What are you currently working on?

Sophie Turner: I just wrapped yesterday a show for Amazon Prime called HAVEN, which is another heist show, but set in modern day, but the stakes are a lot higher, it's a 4 Billion pounds at stake here. [ . . . ]

Sophie Turner: So that's coming up next, which is gonna be really fun. And then I've got a movie coming out called TRUST, I don't know when sometime next year, which is like a horror thriller. And then I'm shooting a movie with my good old buddy Kit Harington.

Radio 1's Screen Time: I've heard of him.

Sophie Turner: I've heard of him. Isn't he the hairy short one.

Radio 1's Screen Time: I was gonna say, isn't he the bloke with the big beard now?

Sophie Turner: Yeah

Radio 1's Screen Time: He's gonna be in INDUSTRY soon.

Sophie Turner: Yeah, I think it's already out, isn't it?

Radio 1's Screen Time: In the US.

Sophie Turner: Ohhhh.

Radio 1's Screen Time: Which we hate.

Sophie Turner: Which we hate.

Radio 1's Screen Time: So we now have to wait until October when is out on BBC.

Sophie Turner: Oh my God, why so long?

Radio 1's Screen Time: Because it's nice to wait for things that are good.

Sophie Turner: Yeah, exactly.

~~~

It's a shame the interviewer deviated to INDUSTRY, instead of keep talking about her next project with Kit.

[sparklingcid3r]

Do you have headcanons for the Curtis parents

HELL yeah i do‼️ a lot of these are inspired by my own childhood bc i got nostalgic😭

- I’m gonna call Mrs. Curtis Josephine because I saw it once and ran with it, also it’s not fair we don’t know her name :(

- But in my head, Josephine accidentally got pregnant in her senior year to Darrel Sr., who’d already dropped out of high school, and they decided to keep the baby, and Josephine ended up dropping out

- Josephine’s parents were furious over the situation, both her dropping out and getting pregnant to someone like Darrel. They kicked her out of the house

- Darrel worked like hell to provide for her and his own family put up money for them to try and help, but it wasn’t much. Despite that, they were happy

- Shotgun wedding! Not a big thing or anything, Josephine wore her patchy homecoming dress and Darrel’s mom sewed up one of her husband’s suits for him, and it was a quiet affair

- Darry lowkey tricked them into thinking parenting would be easy because he wasn’t a crier even when he was born. He was well-behaved and didn’t cause them that much stress. Like he still cried but not nearly as much as a normal baby would. It was a little nerve wracking as they wondered if something was wrong with him or if this whole parenting thing was easy asl

- Uh yeah so then Soda was born

- Josephine had bad post partem depression after Soda where she couldn’t spend a lot of time with Soda and kind of used Darry as a crutch, spending more time with him as a result was Darrel spent more time with Soda. I imagine this being the reason Soda took on more of his dad’s mannerisms while Darry took his mom’s

- Slowly Josephine started coming around, but it was still hard. She spent as much time as she could handle with Soda, but Darrel always told her not to pressure herself and that she just needed to give it time, but he was anxious about the situation too

- Darry was actually the one who coined Pony’s name. When Josephine was pregnant with him, she let Darry and Soda touch her stomach and feel for him, and Darry said he kicked like a pony and Darrel and Josephine looked at each other like 👁️👄👁️☝️

- Originally it was just going to be Pony, but Darrel started saying “How’s our Ponykid doing in there?” and so when he was born and they found out he was a he, Josephine switched it because she didn’t want him to be called a kid his whole life

- Josephine was the cook of the family, but some days Darrel would make pancakes for the family while Josephine would make faces out of syrup and fruit for the boys

- Same with the grill, Darrel would ask for everyone’s order: burger, cheeseburger, hotdog, and Josephine would help them making faces and (not very good) pictures with the ketchup

- Darrel always woke the boys up saying “Time to make the donuts!” and while Darry and Soda knew what that meant, it took Pony a little longer to stop getting disappointed when there weren’t any donuts waiting for them in the kitchen

- Josephine was the one who tucked the boys in, but Darrel usually came in a few minutes later to say goodnight to them as well, and if he hadn’t shaved that morning he’d rub his face against theirs without them expecting it and hurt like a mf, Soda swore he’d always be clean-shaven

- Even though they didn’t call him Superman, Darrel was the one they all associated Superman with. Before closing their doors at night, he’d always do the motion of ripping his shirt across the middle as if to reveal the logo on his chest, so Pony calling Darry Superman meant more to Darry than he ever wants to admit

- Josephine was always singing or humming, just making music. When she was cooking, cleaning, doing the laundry, music was always going in the Curtis home. I’m pretty sure in the movie there’s a piano in the house, and it absolutely belonged to Josephine. She tried to teach all three of her kids how to play, but Darry was the only one who really took to it

- Josephine could have died from joy hearing Pony and Soda singing Andy Williams and Hal David off key while Darry stumbled through a song on the piano

totally feel like i could go on about this family, they mean so much to me🙏

[ollybenrio]

I’m gonna get my thoughts and predictions out before the new Chaos Theory season comes out.

I think, genuinely, they’ve gotten all the ships and relationships set up to bring together the endgame couples. they’re setting all these relationships up so that when the real endgame plots happen, it hits us harder, gives us more of a deeper plot.

So far what i think is going to happen to the current in CANON couples we see/have;

Sammy and Yas: YES endgame, a beginning couple that they plan to keep.

Kenji and Brooklyn: NOT endgame, a beginning couple they gave for those who enjoy it, but as of now (chaos theory s1), it’s grown deeply complicated, and has made us dislike them (atleast me, they grew unhealthy for eachother). Gives plot and “complication” to future Kenji & Brooklyn relationships, gives us shock factor, entertainment for when/if future relationships with different people occur.

How i think it’ll end up;

Brooklyn and Darius: YES endgame. CT s1 we already see Darius has a crush on her, and we’ve previously (cc) seen them with lots of romantic history and chemistry. Most (?) of the fandom prefers them, and the creators know this (they also are not the type to ignore what fans want!). They’ve foreshadowed this relationship in s1 during the abandoned house scene (with that weird tub) where Kenji gets mad at Darius for liking her (I think?) but later towards the end of the season, we can see them forgiving each other, which MAY be forshadowing and giving that underlying feeling that Kenji is okay with Darius/Brooklyn, and that technically, they don’t like each other anymore, so Darius can do whatever he wants, even if that means dating her.

Ben and Kenji: YES endgame. We’ve already gotten tons of chemistry and dare i say, romantic history, with these two. that whole monorail scene where Kenji wears Bens “dork pouch” for ever? they were testing the waters with that. we know these creators aren’t scared of putting lgbtq relationships out there, so we know this also has plenty of potential. We know they didn’t interact so much during ct s1 but that whole egg scene with Speckles? that was a little… yk. They fit perfectly especially since everyone else is already going down their endgame routes with others that aren’t these guys. so in the end, they put these two together.

as a writer, and person who has watched plenty of movies and read books, i can see the route writers will go for things like this. it’s not always about preference, but where things/characters slot in. in relationships, these couples all make sense for endgame purposes. They gave us Kenji x Brooklyn for those who wanted it (more than enough seasons, might i add) so know they’ll feed the others who like Kenji x Ben and those who like Brooklyn x Darius. it all makes sense in the end.

let me know your thoughts on this!!

[innorogers]

Nightmare

Steve Rogers x Reader (You)

Summary: Steve stood in front of the mirror, staring back at him, was a man madly in love. But as much as he wanted to be only that—just a man in love—he wasn’t. Falling so hard for you that he didn’t want to face the reality. There was still a world beyond your home, and he had to face it.

Warning: Minors DNI / A little smut / bj / Angst / Hydra Past / Missunderstandings / He wants to say I love you / This is getting dark as the WB logos in HP movies / Strugglings / He is so in love with you / Your past is coming back and kick your both asses

Characters: OC, Tony Stark, Maria Hill, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson

Also: You don't have to read the previous chapters, but it would enhance the experience if you did. And thanks in advance for repost or any feedback ❤️

Chapter 1: Insomnia | Chapter 2: Lucid | Chapter 3: Reverie

“God…!” Steve's head falls back, his body arching, knuckles turning white as he holds on tightly onto the sheets, moans ragged and labored, his chest rising and falling covered in sweat.

His hand tucking your hair, trying to be as gentle as possible, but he is finding that impossible. As you fasten your mouth and hand movements, more deep breaths are escaping his lips as waves of pleasure wash over him. 

"Babe... that feels so good... don't stop... Please don't stop..."

Your quickened pace is driving him more and more over the edge, as suddenly his entire body lost in pleasure, his head falling back onto the pillow behind him, the sheets gripping tightly in his hands as he releases warm and low in your mouth. 

“Jesus…” His body shuddering as he came hard, thoroughly quenched til the very last drop, his breath coming in gasps and pants, not being able to speak as he looks at you: puffy lips, disheveled hair, sweat drops in your perfect breasts, your silky skin marked with his handprints all over body, and you were wiping your lips. 

“Damn...” He pulls you close for a kiss, still breathing heavily, as if trying to recover from his ecstasy. “Babe, don’t… look at me like that… or I’m gonna lose it... again.”

“Wait, what?” You laugh, stepping out of bed. “That’s on me?! I didn’t do anything this time.” You were barely awake when he started. It’s not like it’s your fault you weren’t wearing anything from last night.

“That’s... arguable.” Steve murmurs, sinking back into the pillows, still riding the high of the moment. His breathing starts to slow, but then he notices you’re already in the bathroom. “Wait, no cuddling?!”

“We’ve been ‘cuddling’ all night!” You call from the shower. “And... we’ve talked about this. Tony is gonna be here in an hour.” And I don’t want to smell like sex.

Steve chuckles in resignation, raising his voice so you can hear him over the water. “Can I join you?”

“We both know how that’s gonna end…”

“Yeah, yeah, alright...” he laughs, reluctantly pulling himself out of bed, grabs his discarded clothes, making a half-hearted attempt to tidy the room. “God, we made a mess in here, didn’t we?”

By the time you’re out of the shower, the room is already cleaned up (he's done his best). It’s a far cry from how things used to be: Steve's things are everywhere now. His toothbrush in your bathroom, clothes hanging in your closet, some files scattered on the desk in your lab that's across from your private dorm.

You’re not even sure when it happened, but your secluded, tucked away 20 minutes from the main Avengers compound lab, has become more than just yours. It makes sense, actually, he wasn’t leaving at night. Or in the mornings. Or... really, ever.

At first, Steve would come over for dates. Then those dates turned into 'I'll come by later' and eventually into 'whenever he had the chance.' Now his mug is in the sink, his slippers are under your bed, and his coat has claimed a permanent spot by the door.

He’s here. So, naturally, Sam and Natasha started coming by too. 

They didn’t want to at first—especially after Tony warned them: Don’t go near the place if the windows are foggy or steamed. And the first time they showed up, the windows were, in fact, foggy. 

So, they waited outside, feeding the mosquitoes and staring at the overgrown grass.

But they had important “For your eyes only” files, and waiting beat facing Commander Hill’s irritation later. After counting all the daisies in the field—twice—they finally gave in. Sam knocked (covering his eyes), you answered (fully dressed), and they came in for a cup of tea. A carrot cake later, they became regulars.

Your lab has a charm they can’t resist: plants hang from every corner, spilling over shelves and framing the windows that let in the golden sunlight. The warm, earthy scent of the greenery mixes with the subtle perfume from your humidifiers. A soft glow of the sunlight filters through, casting a golden hue over everything. The kitchen always smells like freshly baked cookies, and the tea is good, but the coffee is great. 

Your space feels like a hidden sanctuary in the sunset. And amidst all this, there’s a relaxed and laughing, perfectly at home Steve. One that they’ve never seen before.

So of course, big boss Mr. Stark wasn’t going to be excluded.

“Remind me again why he’s coming?” Steve asked as he stepped into the shower. You were brushing your teeth, and he leaned over to kiss your shoulder, and…Yup, you were right; he knew exactly how things would’ve ended if he’d joined you earlier.

“I don’t know… there’s no meeting agenda. But technically, we are living in his compound, so…” you said, now brushing your hair and spritzing perfume. Then, after a pause, you added, “I think it has something to do with the New Era Project.”

Steve didn’t respond right away, but you caught the frown on his face through the steam of the shower. “Are you part of that?” he asked after a moment.

“Nope.” You began towel-drying your hair. “I don’t make or design weapons. I just fix your gear and armory and… sometimes I pitch cool new ideas to Tony during brainstorm sessions. You know, Level A clearance, remember?”

Steve chuckled—yeah, he remembered. You had access to all files and records, but only if Tony Stark himself granted it. Actually, he was the only one who could authorize your access and tokens. There were only two people in the entire organization with that kind of clearance: you and Peter Parker.

Your existence here was… special. Only level 3 and above tech personnel knew about you, and they practically worshiped you. You were the one who “optimized their code, fine-tuned algorithms that seemed impossible to crack, recalibrated testing protocols when simulations failed, and stepped in when machines were on the verge of catastrophic failure.” (That was Bruce’s wording. Steve didn't get shit of what he said, just referred to you as “my brilliant genius who fixes all that stuff.”) And the thing that stood out the most? You never took credit for the successes.

Selfless. That was the word Tony used when describing you. But he also said: “And that drives me nuts, because when you lack human ambition, what’s going to keep you around, right?”

Human ambition. The phrase echoed in Steve’s mind as he turned off the water with a sigh. He knew he had been avoiding the truth. Falling so hard for you that he didn’t want to face the reality. There was more to you than he fully understood, and deep down, he wasn’t sure he was ready to know the whole truth.

“I’ll make coffee,” you called from outside, interrupting his thoughts. “You staying for breakfast, or heading straight to training?”

“Yeah, I’ll stay for coffee,” he replied, wrapping a towel around himself and standing in front of the mirror. 

There, staring back at him, was a man madly in love. But as much as he wanted to be only that—just a man in love—he wasn’t. There was still a world beyond your lab, and he had to face it.

He sighed again, suspecting exactly what Tony was going to discuss with you.

The coffee was ready, and croissants were on the table when Tony arrived. He greeted you with a cheek kiss and smirked at Steve, who was just walking out the bathroom with a towel around his waist. 

“There’s a scene I thought I’d never see.” Tony quipped as you placed a mug in front of him. “Aren’t you late, Cap?”

“Aren’t you early?” Steve shot back from the room.

“Actually, I’m late. I hung out in the car for a bit.” Tony tilted his head toward the window, a mocking grin spreading across his face. “The windows were steamed up, so I…” he clicked his tongue, “didn’t want to interrupt.” 

He turned to you, smiling. “This coffee’s great, hon. Any chance you’d consider making it a regular thing in the common room?”

“No. She wouldn’t,” Steve answered, now dressed in his training gear. He kissed you goodbye, shaking his head with a smirk. “Sorry babe, gotta go. Guess you were right, I am late.”

Tony shot him an I told you so look. 

“Coffee.” you said, handing Steve a travel mug, then cupped his face with a smile. “Kiss.”

Inhaling your fresh perfume, Steve sighed, enchanted, as he leaned down to kiss you. “Thanks…” He held back the I love you that nearly escaped his lips.

“Get something to eat after training, okay?” you said casually, unaware of how close he was to confessing.

“Yes ma’am.” He gave you a lingering glance, clearly wanting another kiss—or a few—before turning to Tony. “Easy, ok?” he warned.

“You hear that, hon? Easy on me,” Tony said with a grin, raising his mug to wave Steve off. “See you later, Cap.”

As the door closed behind Steve, Tony looked at you, “You know… that’s the best I’ve seen him in years.” He mused, his fingers tracing the rim of his mug. 

Then, after a brief pause, with a playful smile. “And the best I’ve seen of you, of course.”

You smiled back. “It’s not like you’ve been around much to see me anyway.” You patted his hand. 

“Not that I’m complaining. You’ve given me all the quiet and peace I could ever ask for.” You glanced down at the table with a soft smile. “And purpose.”

Tony stayed silent as the golden morning light filtered through the windows, casting lines of warmth and shadow across the table.

“Did you… tell him?” he asked, hesitating just as the light reached his mug.

“No. I, um…” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m scared.”

“God,” he sighed in resignation. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. And…” he shook his head, rolling his eyes, “I think his problem will eventually be, ‘Why didn’t you come sooner?’” 

He huffed. “It’s your call, but trust me—he always wants to know the truth, no matter how hard it might be.”

“I know. It’s just…” You admitted quietly, “I’m scared of him being… disappointed.”

“Then he can fuck off,” Tony shot back without hesitation, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “And die alone on his moral highlands.”

You laughed. Tony always knew how to make you laugh. After a few moments, you softened and asked, “What’s wrong, Tony? What’s really troubling you?”

“You mean besides the fact that one of my top-secret employees, whom I’ve kept hidden from everyone’s sight for years, is actually dating… I mean, no, we’re way past dating, right? I’d say… in a relationship with one of the most famous men in the world, who’s also the high commander of this… you know, little group of heroes that saves the universe from time to time? Yeah, there’s actually one tiny, tiny thing that keeps me awake at night…”

You sipped your coffee, still smiling. “What?”

“I’m having second thoughts about the New Era Project.”

You raised your eyebrows, and asked after some pause. “Do you want me to join?” Because you would, if he asked.

“No.” He was firm. “No, it’s not that. I’d never ask you to do that. It’s just… I’m having trouble piecing everything together. I don’t have the full picture. ” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 

“The UN have been a pain in my ass since I flew out in a can suit in Afghanistan, but now… they’re... They’re being… nice.”

“And that’s a bad thing.” You raised an eyebrow, not sure whether you were asking or confirming.

“It’s incredibly dangerous and extremely suspicious.”

“I thought our little demonstration of power during Thanos would’ve made everyone play nice,” you said, grimacing as if to say, Duh.

“They even offered to cancel the Sokovian Accords.”

“Wait, what?” You blinked, surprised. “Is that even still a thing? I thought after the Blip…”

“Nobody had the time or the mood to talk about that during the Snap, so it just stayed there.” Tony explained, handing you his mug as you stood up to refill it.

“Well, that’s a generous offer,” you said, pouring more coffee. “But as you said…”

You paused, thinking for a moment.

“If rationality and facts can’t give you the full picture, maybe intuition will.” You sat back down, placing the mug in front of Tony. “What does your gut tell you? Animal instincts in the face of danger are 99% accurate, you know.”

Tony’s eyes flickered with uncertainty. “I don’t know. That’s what’s keeping me up at night. We’ve faced big threats before, but this... this feels different. Like they’re not reacting to a threat, but preparing for one.”

“Patience.” you murmured.

“Say what?” Tony hadn’t caught it.

“The Art of War,” you recalled. “‘He who is prudent and lies in wait for an enemy who is not, will be victorious.’” You nodded. “So if the picture isn’t clear, you wait for them to make the first move.”

That look crossed Tony’s face—the one he wore when you or Bruce finished a thought before him, or when you completed a task well before the deadline with an unexpected approach. The “finally, someone speaking my language” look.

“They’ve already made the first move, haven’t they?” you observed him closely.

Tony sat up, a slight smile of pride tugging at his lips. “Yes. They’re sending someone to… cooperate.”

“So… how do I fit into all this?” you asked quietly. “Strategies of war, deciphering enemy intentions, gathering intel, hacking systems… you’ve got quite a  team for that. The Team. How can I help?”

Tony sighed, leaning back in his chair as the sunlight shifted, casting shadows across the room. He paused, staring out the window before turning back to you, something close to worry in his eyes for the first time. 

“You fit in because you’re one of the few people I trust to see things clearly. No agenda. No ego. You can do things quietly, behind the scenes. And, frankly, you’re smarter than half the people working on this project…” He hesitated and added with a smirk, “...or the entire compound.”

After a brief pause, Tony confessed in a giving up tone. 

“And because I need your superpowers to sense if this guy is hiding something—something that our metal detectors and scanners can’t catch. These days, I don’t even trust that the people we meet are… well, human. Thanks to Danvers.”

Just like at the opening ceremony, he needed you to assess if there was anything suspicious about the people present. You nodded in understanding.

“Who are they sending?” 

There were two files in front of him, both giving him the same headache. And Steve didn’t wanted to start with either of them. 

One was yours: HE0012, “Twelve.” Your code name—Hydra Experiment Number Twelve—and your real name, (If Twelve could even considered a name, but that was they’d given to you) both stamped on a complete profile folder of your classified information: layers upon layers of secrecy wrapped around your past, barely considered something near light reading.

The second file, labeled “FYEO - New Era Project” was a brick of a report, hundreds of pages long, more of a book than a document. It detailed, in excruciating pain-ass precision, the project's goal: a forced reconciliation between the Avengers and Stark Industries. The initiative was meant to foster collaborative research and development of cutting-edge technologies designed to bolster global defense systems.

Officially, the report framed it as ensuring global protection “in case of need,” but Steve knew the truth beneath the diplomatic phrasing. It was about weapons—gear, tools, anything needed to combat the next alien invasion, or any kind of catastrophic threat Earth might face.

Steve remembered Tony’s struggle with this report, how the stress weighed on him. Tony had been stuck between igniting another Civil War or throwing the damn thing in the nearest firepit. 

But seems now, that Tony had done what Tony does best: handed the problem to Steve.

Damn it, Tony.

“Captain.” Jarvis’s polite voice sounded through the nearest screen. “A guest has just entered the main building. Agent Charles Frazer from the New Era Special Committee has been announced.”

Steve sighed, shoving both files aside. He couldn’t even catch a break. “Background?” He asked as he glanced at the screen, pulling up Frazer’s information.

“Agent Frazer is currently serving with the UN Special Commission, previously tasked with supervising enhanced human activities under the Sokovian Accords. Before that, he was a top agent at MI6.” Jarvis relayed in his usual, steady tone.

“Great. I’ll meet him in the lobby. Where’s Tony?”

“Sir is en route from R&D 001 and will arrive in three and a half minutes. Agent Frazer is already in the lobby, Captain.”

“Fine.” Steve muttered, standing up. “Also ask Commander Hill to meet us there.”

From the second-floor glass railing, Steve looked down and spotted Frazer standing in the waiting area. The man was definitely an agent, but his military background was obvious in the way he stood—rigid, alert, scanning the room, it all pointed to someone used to being on guard, despite his polite, diplomatic smile and the small nods he gave to passing staff. 

After a moment of observation, Steve made his way downstairs before Frazer could notice he was being watched.

“Agent.” Steve greeted, extending a firm hand.

“Captain.” Charles Frazer responded with a wide, courteous smile. One that appeared genuine but not intrusive. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Steve was about to continue when Tony, Bruce, and you entered the room, caught up in a heated conversation.

“…so wait, are you telling me the material adapted in real-time? Enhanced its resistance with every applied force threshold—like it learned from the stress points?” Bruce’s voice was filled with astonished excitement.

“Yeah, we saw a 32% increase in tensile strength under standard shear stress.” You replied softly, barely looking up from your coffee mug.

“What about quantum resonance feedback?” Tony waved a hand, pressing for more details. “Is it boosting absorption capabilities?”

“It’s actually forming a self-reinforcing lattice that distributes the force across the entire molecular framework, but…” You trailed off as you noticed Steve. A soft smile lit up your face, your eyes brightening upon seeing him.

Steve, for a split second, returned the smile but quickly recovered his professional demeanor. “Dr. Lancaster,” he greeted you, then nodded to the others. “Tony, Bruce—this is Agent…”

A loud crash cut him off. 

Steve whipped around to see you standing there, your face as pale as your lab coat. Your mug lay shattered on the floor, coffee splattered across your clothes, but you didn’t seem to notice. Your gaze was locked on Agent Frazer’s face, your breath frozen, your body completely still.

“…Four?” The word barely escaped your lips, a whisper under the weight of everyone’s surprise.

Agent Frazer’s reaction was almost identical. 

His confident smile vanished in an instant—from confusion, to shock, and then to an almost frozen state mirroring yours, his eyes reflected the same haunting familiarity. It wasn’t just shock; it was a mix of fear, disbelief, and perhaps even something darker—like a flood of old memories being unlocked all at once. 

For a moment, the two of you stood there, staring at each other in stunned silence. Slowly, Frazer’s gaze locked onto yours, and recognition began to settle over his face. He slowly lifted a trembling hand toward your chin, his voice cracking as he murmured, “Twelve?”

“How…?”

“Let’s take this to a more private room.” Tony, ever the first to break the silence, said firmly even before you could go on. His eyes weren’t on you—they were glued to Steve, gauging his reaction.

Steve stood rigid, his jaw was set, his face unreadable as he observed the silent exchange between you and Frazer. 

“Yes, let’s do that.” Steve said, his voice firm but soft. A few people in the background had started to notice the unusual scene unfolding and were beginning to glance your way. So it was to act quickly.  He stepped closer to you, a part of him instinctively wanting to put a hand on your shoulder, or hold your hand to offer some comfort in the midst of the shock, but he hesitated. His hand hovered for a second before he drew it back. 

As the group moved to a quieter, more secluded room, the air was thick with unspoken questions, and no one dared to break the fragile silence. All eyes were on you and Agent Frazer, as though the past had suddenly come crashing into the present, and no one was sure how to navigate the ruins.

You met with Commander Hill in the middle of the hallway. She quickly noted the tension in the unusual group, scanning Agent Frazer as fast as she could with her x-ray inspection mode and cautious glare. 

“Is… everything okay?” She instantly reacted, reading the room. “Meeting 9 is available.” She looked at Steve and Tony and communicated in their own silent way: And it’s ready.

Ready meant that the room could provide total privacy while also functioning as the most advanced interrogation room. Everything would be recorded, with real-time facial expression analysis by Friday or Jarvis. The room’s ambiance would shift according to participants' moods, creating the most relaxing and comforting environment possible, encouraging the participants to say anything and everything that needed to be known.

But of course, you didn’t know that, and neither did Agent Frazer— or Four. You hadn’t yet recovered from the shock, so you barely heard Tony when he said, “We’ll just leave you to it,” or noticed the worried look Steve had given you. You didn’t look back; your eyes remained locked on Four’s.

“How…” You broke the silence after a long pause, sensing that both your breaths had softened. You began to regain some rationality and composure. “How did you escape? I… I thought you were dead…” 

Four closed his eyes for a moment, trying to stay as calm as possible.

He didn’t know where to start with.

“I was…” 

He didn’t look at you; his gaze was fixed on the floor, lost in some distant moment from the past. 

“The cryostasis pod that held me…malfunctioned, but instead of shutting down, it went into some sort of low-energy survival mode—almost like it was trying to protect me. Left me hanging on the edge of life, just the basics kept intact.” 

His accent was you remembered, a perfect blend of British and Russian, a strange yet polished combination of both. He talked as in Times New Roman. 

“I reckon I stayed that way for years… like being stuck in some frozen limbo. Like wandering in some desert between hell and heaven.” 

Four’s lips curled into a fragile, ironic smile: “That Hydra fortress in Caithness was too well-hidden. I’d have gone unnoticed until I wasted away, but when Hydra fell, every strategic spot on the globe became suspicious. British intel ran sweeps over the area… and they found me.”

You remained silent, memories flashing through your mind. You knew why the cryostasis pod had malfunctioned in the first place. 

After the Battle of New York, the remaining Hydra forces had started shutting down their less critical underground fortresses. Caithness, where Four was held, had probably been vital during the war, but your files were far too confidential, buried too deep to be easily retrieved. That place must have been overlooked as obsolete.

Then came the Battle in Washington, when Steve crushed Hydra for good, and Black Widow exposed Hydra’s files, Caithness would have landed on British radar.

The world had been holding its breath, watching the Avengers’ actions since New York. 

It wouldn’t surprise you if British intelligence wanted to keep Four for their own research—a super soldier hidden, repaired, filled with selective truths, and molded into a loyal agent. Their own secret Avenger, integrated into their best special forces.

“They kept your memory?” you asked softly, almost afraid of the answer.

“Bits of it.” Four replied, offering a smile, sensing your concern. He wanted to ease the pain of what he’d gone through during his rebirth. “Britain’s tech wasn’t as advanced as Hydra’s.” 

He glanced around and sighed. “And they were definitely far away from… this. They didn’t push it too far, just in case it might… break me and ruin everything.”

“Do you remember… everything?” you asked, finally looking into his eyes.

“Not everything. Just pieces, fragments. Sometimes I get flashbacks in my dreams…” Four’s eyes softened as he looked at you, a faint smile touching his lips, his voice tender with nostalgia. 

“You were a brilliant tree climber... I remember that odd old oak tree deep in the forest. Grand and ancient. You’d scramble up to the top branches and shake them until the leaves fell, making a pile on the ground. Then Five and Seven would dash over and dive in, like a pair of foxes.”

“And once, you hid a rock under the leaves, and Seven jumped right onto it…” You were lost in the memory too.

“He hit it so hard…” Four chuckled, his gaze drifting to that long-lost time. 

“We did everything to stop the bleeding before heading back, but he looked like…”

“A smashed tomato can.” You both said at the same time. And then you both laughed.

“I was grounded, of course. Bloody big time.” Four leaned back in his chair. “Six days of detention because, naturally, our blood was ‘precious,’ and Seven’s was everywhere. They had to clean up so thoroughly, it was like they burned the place down.”

“And you came by on the fifth night…” Four’s went gentle, as if telling a bedtime story. “You snuck in and gave me a piece of bread. And a golden leaf.”

He reached out and took your hand, squeezing it tight.

“I’m so glad to see you, little sister.” His voice was filled with pain. 

“When I woke up… I thought I was alone in this world.”

“Me too.” You whispered, though your eyes were elsewhere, lost in the shadows of the past. 

“Me too…”

Steve could feel his teeth clenching. He tried desperately to release the pressure building in his fists, but the anger was overwhelming. 

He suddenly understood why he hadn’t been able to even open your file before—it was fear. He didn’t want to feel this powerless, like he does now, knowing there was nothing he could do to change what you’d been through.

Tony might have made a joke, something like, “Well, at least he’s only her brother.” but Steve could sense the tension in his voice.

“This is so…” Fucked up. Sam stood beside Steve, watching closely. “Any lie detected?”

“Facial analysis shows 99% veracity. The 1% is due to human factors beyond my calculations.” Friday’s voice echoed through the room.

“If the story’s true, it’s not impossible,” Natasha chimed in, raising an eyebrow. “When the files went public, someone must have taken action.”

“It just smells like there’s a cat hidden in the closet, y’all know?” Sam muttered, arms crossed, shaking his head. “Like, really? Now? The agent overseeing all this Sokovia Accords 2.0 stuff just so happens to be ex-Hydra, ex-experiment, and he shows up now? Like literally walking right to her. Now? When she’s…” He gestured pointedly. “With Steve? Why not before?”

“Maybe he was gone during the Blip?” Natasha suggested. “Look, I’m just trying to figure this out. Not saying the guy’s a saint, but…”

She glanced at Steve, who had turned into some kind of statue, staring at the screen, trying to read your every move, every reaction.

“We do have ex-Hydras doing just fine…” Bucky is one. You are one. Natasha didn’t say it, but it hung in the air, unspoken yet clear.

“Alright, first things first.” Maria stepped in, standing next to Steve. “What do we do with this guy? He’s still carrying the UN Special title, and…” She pulled up his file. “One thing’s for sure—his records are impeccable. At least on paper.”

Steve didn’t respond. His eyes remained fixed on the screen, where you were holding hands with Four. It wasn’t romantic, he could tell. You were pressing his hand, patting his back. You looked relaxed. The painful part of remembering was over, and now you were chatting about his life after MI6 gave him a new identity.

And you were smiling. You tilted your head slightly, something you always did when listening intently.

“Tony.” Steve suddenly spoke up, his voice low but steady. “Why are you so quiet?”

Steve hadn’t raised his voice, but the room instantly turned to Iron Man.

“Maybe I have nothing to say.”

“Or maybe it’s because I don’t want to know the answer.” Steve shot back, his tone sharper now. He didn’t say it aloud, but Tony knew. He knew exactly why Steve was looking at him like that.

But as always, Tony didn’t flinch under Steve’s scrutinizing glare, nor did he step back.

“I think Dr. Lancaster is just the perfect person for this job.” Tony said, quietly but with precision, locking eyes with Steve.

“Fuck! Tony!” Steve’s fists slammed down on the desk so hard that everything on it bounced. “She’s out of the New Era Project.” he said, gritting his teeth.

“She’s Level A.” Tony stepped closer, meeting Steve’s gaze up close. 

“And she happens to be top of R&D. Yes, I asked her to be here this morning, to check on this guy… just like she’s been doing since day one when she entered this compound.”

“So yeah, she can show him around, talk about super-intelligent things that normal people won’t understand, as long as it fits within the clearance I’ve given her. It’s not like I’m ordering her to do anything.”

Tony leaned in even closer to Steve’s face. “You can stay and hang out if you want. But seriously… and this is me being brutally honest, like you’ve always wanted.” His voice was calm, firm, unwavering. 

“Did you really think you could keep her out of this? Out of your life? Our life?”

He opened his arms slightly, giving Steve a knowing look. “Stop acting as your decisions are better than hers, Steve. She knew exactly what she was signing up for.”

“I’m honored, but my pressure it’s on its peaks.” Four muttered, walking beside you down the long aisle that led from “Sustainable Technologies & Environmental Innovation” to the “Space Exploration & Interstellar Travel Engineering” hall.

You chuckled softly, shaking your head as you caught the reflection in the sleek glass walls: a serious, determined, and ‘touch my girl by a hair and I’ll kill the fuck out of you’ Steve, and a ‘I have so much more important and real shit to deal with right now than this’ face Maria walking behind you. 

“I mean I’m just a public employee. I expected both high commanders to receive me, but not to walk us all the way.” Four teased: “Remember when we had to escort the king during the war?”

“I thought that was the proudest day of your life.”

“It was, until this.” Four laughed, letting out a long, amused sigh after a pause. Then, more sincerely, “But you should be proud too, Twelve. Look at what you’ve accomplished.”

Four’s gaze lifted, drawn to the towering structures and intricate technology around him—robotics designed to repair spacecraft mid-flight, drones engineered for planetary terraforming. His eyes followed the sleek contours of prototype exosuits encased behind glass, shimmering with the pulse of energy cores yet to be tested.

Even with all the cutting-edge tech he’d seen around the world, he couldn’t help but admire the scale of innovation unfolding here—the flawless precision, the harmony between form and function, and the dedication and sense of unity the folks around here were putting on their work.

“Everything here... it’s like stepping into the future.” he said, his voice carrying a rare note of awe. “Back in the day, we only dreamt of machines like this. Now it’s real. I can feel the intelligence in the air, the potential of what this place can do.”

He paused in front of an android prototype, its sensors lighting up as though acknowledging his presence.

“This is what happens when visionaries are free to play with the impossible. And you are part of it. You should be proud. It’s the realization of everything we once hoped for. ”

Steve and Maria exchanged a glance at his words, and Steve’s gaze immediately shifted to you. He was desperate for you to turn, to look at him the way you always did—like you understood him without a single word needing to be spoken. But since the moment you walked out of Room 9 with Four, your gaze hadn’t found his. Not once.

You stayed silent upon your brother’s words. Your gaze was still, serene, and silent. There was no emotion beyond that on your face. Your eyes rested lightly on Four's expressions, then moved softly to the equipment he was examining. You were as still as a pond on a windless day. And your eyes…Steve could always interpret the emotions they held, if you offered him a glimpse, but you never did.

“Is it?” you murmured, emotionless. Neither Four nor Maria caught it, but Steve did. And it sent a cold shiver down his spine.

He watched you, hoping—no, needing—you to turn around, to meet his eyes with the same openness you always had. He knew you could feel his gaze, feel his desperate hope that you would just look at him. But you didn’t. You kept walking a few steps behind Four, and the space between you and Steve grew wider with every step.

He wanted to call your name, to pull you aside, to ask if you were okay, if this was too much for you. But something held him back. What if you didn’t respond the way he hoped? What if Four’s presence here was dragging you back into the person you were before? What if you weren’t the person he had fallen so deeply in love with? And what if… what if you didn’t love him back the way he loved you? Or worse, what if you were still exactly what Hydra wanted you to be? 

What if…this is the real you?

Steve’s heart was at war with itself. He had fought through battles where the stakes were higher than anything he could imagine here, but the battlefield of emotions felt far more treacherous. His love for you was the one thing he held onto with unyielding certainty—something unshakable. But now, he felt it flickering, like a candle fighting to stay lit in a growing storm.

Every time he looked at you, searching for a sign that you still belonged to him in the way he believed you did, it felt like reaching out for something just beyond his grasp.

It wasn’t the distance you kept from him physically that hurt the most. It was the emotional wall—thick, invisible, but undeniably there. His rationale, the part of him that always tried to be fair, tried to stay calm, told him not to jump to conclusions, not to doubt you. But the love-struck, emotional side of him—the part that saw you as his everything—was falling down into the vast uncertain sea of fear.

Four’s voice pulled him back from his thoughts, he was talking in low, but Steve overheard anyway.

“What are you really working on?” He was genuinely curious: “I’ve always known you were the best of us in intelligence but…this is…” he said in an obvious ‘wow’: “Mr. Stark said that you are on top of R&D, and you are also guiding the way, so I bet it is something…dramatic.”

“I can show you my workspace.” You smirk quietly, your voice a little bit proud, as a sibling that wanted to show off her new toys: “It’s not…dramatic. At least not complicated for you to read.”

“I…” Steve spoke up at the same time he frowned, but held back on calling out your name: “Dr. Lancaster. I don’t think…”

“We’ll be fine, Captain.” You interrupted him, but he could only see your back when you answered, still not looking back for a second: “I’ve got the clearance, no worries.” You said as you walked straight forward without hesitation.

Of course, you weren't leading Four to your lab—your home with Steve, your recluse sanctuary out of the compounds. That would’ve been too much. Even for Steve, it would’ve crossed a line he couldn’t forgive, and you weren’t a monster, like, duh. 

Instead, you led Four toward your personal workspace. Or how Tony liked to call it: "the genius playroom", where cutting-edge tech, half-finished projects, and too many abandoned coffee mugs cluttered the surfaces—remnants of late-night brainstorming sessions with him and Bruce.

The room was chaotic brilliance in its purest form. Holographic models of Stark tech hovered in the air like suspended thoughts, caught in an endless cycle of innovation. Transparent screens flashed data faster than any normal person could process: only a select few could follow the constant stream of figures and projections (Three, actually, if Wakandian minds, or Dr. Cho weren't around). Half-assembled drones and sleek energy cores, still pulsating with untapped potential, were scattered around workbenches. Tony’s famous bean bag chairs—“sometimes the ass needs to think before the brain catches up”—occupied one corner, breaking the space's otherwise high-tech aesthetic.

The room was alive with invention, buzzing with the frenetic energy of genius minds always in motion. It was your playground, your escape, and the damn Thursday’s night that you couldn’t make it home and Steve's always resent.

“Bloody hell...” Four’s voice broke through the hum of machinery as he stepped into the room. His eyes widened, slowly sweeping across the multitude of inventions and half-finished designs. 

"This is... whoa...little sister, you did find your spot in the world, didn't you?" he muttered, genuine awe in his voice.

You watched him, standing close enough to catch every flicker of his gaze, how his eyes darted from one holographic projection to the next, lingering just a bit too long. As if he was, scanning.

"Well, welcome to The Crib." You said with a casual shrug, already moving toward one of the many touchscreens embedded into the workbenches. You tapped a few commands, and the room sprang to life. Holographic blueprints of your latest projects filled the space between you and Four.

"Where the magic is born. Core of the Avengers and Stark Industries inventions, we usually break a lot of rules here...and stuff, too."

Behind you, Steve and Maria stepped into the room, but your focus remained on the task at hand. Your heart began racing so fast it was going out of your chest, but you pushed it aside. You had work to do.

And a sense of unease gnawed at Steve, making his hair stand on end and his senses become hyper-alert. There was something wrong. Really wrong. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but a chill crawled up his spine, making his muscles tense.

He exchanged a glance with Maria—she felt it too. The air was too thick, too still. He could hear your heart beating, too fast, too loud.

You kept moving, subtly positioning yourself near the wall, your body shielding a button—one Steve hadn’t noticed before.

“Four?” Your voice was soft and casual. You were watching him carefully, studying his reactions like you were dissecting his every move.

“Mhm?” He didn’t look back, his attention still locked on the blueprints projected across the room, soaking up every detail.

“When did you say we escorted the king?” You leaned against the wall, arms crossed, your position relaxed, but gaze distant. “Was it at the beginning of the war? Or when it was almost over?”

“Beginning. Why?” Four turned to face you, a smile still hanging on his lips. “Why do you ask?”

“Because we were Hydra back then.” You said, voice level but resolute. “We didn’t escort people. Not the alliance, at least.”

Four’s smile faltered. It froze on his face.

“Who are you?” Your voice remained calm, but there was a razor edge beneath the surface. “And why are you pretending to be my brother?”

"Shit!" Maria immediately pulled out her gun, aiming straight at Four—no, Agent Frazer's—head, her finger tight on the trigger.

Steve stayed still, fists clenched, eyes rapidly calculating every option in the room: the exits, the distance between you and Four, and how fast he could get to either of you. In a matter of seconds, hundreds of plans flashed through his mind, each one detailing how things could go down.

Four's face remained calm, but the shift in his eyes betrayed him. The mask of the amiable older brother slipped, revealing the cold, calculating operative underneath—the same one who had greeted Captain America this morning: the perfect spy, shifting personas like a chameleon, adapting to every situation.

A slow, smug smile curled across his lips, replacing the affectionate facade he wore seconds ago.

"How did you know?" he asked, tilting his head, examining you. He seemed almost impressed by your unflinching calm, as if you'd been expecting this all along.

"'It's the realization of everything we once hoped for.'" Your gaze was unwavering, your tone even as you repeated his earlier words.

"What?"

You lowered your eyelids, the weight of old memories seeping into your voice, barely a whisper.

"You’ve said that this tech, this…unrealistic world leadered by heroes, is something that we hoped for… is not." 

You didn’t know whom you were talking to, to Four, to Steve, or to yourself.

“We were kids. Trapped in a cage. We never hoped for any of this.” You paused: “My brother and sisters died before I was even grown up. And they didn’t dream big. We didn't have the chance or dared to do so.”

Steve's heart clenched. He had sensed this, but hearing you say it still hit harder than expected.

"You knew?" Four's tone shifted, darker, more dangerous. His eyes gleamed like a predator closing in on its prey. "From the beginning?"

"Easy, Frazer." Maria warned, her aim steady. "You even blink, and I'll put a bullet in your pretty forehead."

"Of course I knew…" you said calmly. "And I know you're wearing a retinal lens—a live-streaming neural interface that captures everything you see, using nanotransceivers to broadcast it live via ultra-broadband frequencies to a secure hub."

Steve's mind clicked into place. You had the ability to see the composition of materials in everything around you. It was why Tony often had you blend in with the crowd, to detect anything out of place or hidden in plain sight.

"Then you know it's too late." Four's grin widened, a victorious glint in his eyes. "I've already got everything I need, little sister."

"Do you?" You smiled—a smile Steve knew all too well, the one that meant you were about to love what happened next. 

You snapped your fingers. 

"Revelio."

The world around you shimmered, peeling away like burning paper. The high-tech lab setup dissolved, revealing a The Crib instead, but it didn’t have all the advanced technology drafts as it was shown to Four. It was a clean, organized, fancy lab, not revealing anything confidential, it looked brand new..

"Binary Augmented Retro-Framing. Or BARF." you said, almost sighing. "It's on the market. The records are public. Tony loves to play with it."

"You think you're so smart." Frazer sneered, a cruel twist to his lips. "Or good. You think joining these superheroes will erase what you are? What you really are? You're nothing but a monstrous experiment."

"You're right." Your expression didn’t falter, not even a twitch. "My brothers and sisters were better." You continued watching him, calm as ever. "But you didn’t come all this way just for some tech demo, did you?"

"No." Frazer's smirk returned, sharper than before. "I came to confirm something, and I did. But there’s one last thing I wanted to check, just in case."

Steve's instincts kicked in, but he knew it was already too late. 

Frazer locked eyes with you, and his voice dropped, firm and deliberate:

"Мечта."

-TBC-

Divider Credits: to the wonderful @cafekitsune

Woohooo...damn!! OMG thank you for reading thus far! Hope you really enjoyed it like I did writing it, it was a rollercoaster of emotions, tho.

Next chapter is finished already so I'll see you on next Friday! And I couldn't help myself on the "Revelio" part, I just had to give that dramatic line, if there were background music asin the movies, that's when it comes to play XD

Alright, let me know what do you think! (Also if you thought this was intense then next chapter is worse...xD)

Love.,

Moon.

Shoot, I completely forgot, but it was mentioned by the brilliant @steviebbboi & @jamneuromain that I should have a taglist? So mentioning here, will edit when I have it ready ❤️

[buffyfan145]

Episode 2.7 of "Rings of Power" was great!!! 😀 This is the most it's ever felt like the movies to me with the battles and those scenes were so well done. So much happened in this episode too and at least 2 leaks actually did happen, one of which I wasn't mad about like I thought I would be. LOL Rest of my thoughts under the cut for spoilers but can't believe the season is almost over next week and then the 2 year wait for season 3 begins.

I feel so bad for Celebrimbor. We all know his death is coming and just seeing him realize what's really happening and that Annatar is Sauron was heartbreaking and knowing he won't survive this. His scene with Galadriel made me emotional too and next week is going to be tough to watch. But I did love that Celebrimbor also told Sauron that he's lying to himself about so many things too, as Sauron is justifying everything he's doing. And as a Haladriel shipper you can see too that Sauron's also lying to himself about his feelings for Galadriel, which will likely come into play next week when he reunites with her.

But I did laugh though at that moment Celebrimbor and Galadriel heard Sauron screaming in the tower as that foreshadowed him being in the tower in the LOTR movies. LOL

That brings me to the first leak confirmed and that it was that about half the cast is getting killed off. That came out before the season started and made sense in a way but still really sad to see it happen. We've lost Bronwyn, Walridge, Valandil, Mirdania, Rian, that other elf in Elrond's party, Damrod, a bunch of other elves and orcs, and we know at least Celebrimbor will next week with possibly Adar too (which the orcs turning against him seems to set this up too). I didn't include Arondir yet as I feel he might not actually be dead yet and might be saved since we saw Nenya and know that Galadriel gets it back. And I doubt Tom Bombadil will be back either, so that's a lot of the cast that we probably won't see in s3 besides the ones getting killed off.

Then to leak 2 was the Elrond and Galadriel kiss was real. However, it didn't bother me as much as I thought as seeing it on screen you see it was non-romantic and to just pass her that pin and trick Adar and the orcs. Like a lot of other fans have pointed out to those upset this pretending to kiss things happens a lot in the mystery/crime genres and one fan pointed out it happened in the Bond movies which I totally forgot about. LOL It's nothing to worry about and I get people saying it's weird since Elrond will marry Galadriel's daughter, and Galadriel is already in a love triangle with Sauron and Celeborn, but really it was just to help her. Morfydd even said in the bts vid that played after the episode that it was just to give her a way to escape and that's all it was. If anything I've actually seen more of the purists upset about it than the Haladriel shippers, which when the leak first came out it was the opposite, so seeing it on screen vs reading about it shows the difference.

But back to Elrond I loved his scenes in the battles and with Durin IV. He's getting closer to his books/movies version and Robert did great in those scenes. Also loved Gil Galad showed up to help, and hopefully the dwarves will too once they stop the balrog that Sauron helped unleash.

So overall I was really happy with this episode and it setting up the finale. The trailer for next week was great too and I can't wait to see what happen with Haladriel with their fight and afterwards, especially since Galadriel has the 9 rings and gets Nenya back and we know Sauron will somehow get the 9 and him choosing the 9 will be a s3 storyline. I still think something major happens between them, as we all saw their head director Charlotte saying we'll see that Sauron really loves her by the end, and I'm leaning towards he saves/heals her from a wound and she either lets him go with the rings or she goes with him. Then them including Isildur and Estrid kissing in the trailer too I didn't expect. LOL Also, The Stranger meeting The Dark Wizard and knowing we're finally going to get The Stranger's name and I'm still certain he's Gandalf. And there's more Numenor too, so lots more to come in the finale.

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

You know what, I have to get this off my chest so here's my essay on why Anakin and Padme's relationship in Attack of the Clones singlehandedly sinks not only Episode II, but detracts from the entire prequel trilogy.

Here's the thing: the prequels are a tragedy, chronicling Anakin Skywalker's lamentable fall to the Dark Side and becoming Darth Vader. But the movies spend SO. MUCH. TIME. foreshadowing Anakin's fall, we never really get to see him be a hero. (I will always be immensely grateful to The Clone Wars for giving us this desperately needed characterization for Anakin).

The same applies to Anakin/Padme's relationship. Their romance should be a tragedy, and really the only way to make something tragic is to make the audience root for it to succeed in the first place.

But their relationship as depicted in the movies is so toxic and covered in red flags I can't root for it to succeed. (And Anakin himself is already apparently one breath away from going full Dark Side so there's no chance to root for him either.)

Side note about "I don't like sand" since the problems with their romance often get chalked up to "Anakin is awkward" : "Awkwardness" could have worked, because awkwardness CAN be sweet and endearing when it's coming from someone who is shown to be kind and compassionate (see: Tech in general, but also with Phee). But Anakin, 10 years after TPM, isn't depicted in AotC as truly kind or compassionate or anything even approximating heroic until maybe the Battle of Geonosis at the very end of the movie. So yeah, Anakin being an idiot young adult when talking to a girl he likes is understandable; it's all his other behavior that is absolutely unacceptable.

Just a few "highlights:"

- Padme covers the cams in her room because she doesn't want Anakin watching her, then directly calls out Anakin for the looks he's giving her and tells him it's making her uncomfortable... And Anakin's response is creepy smile and then later he persists in talking to her about how he dreams about her etc and so forth.

^ Oh, if only the above or similar had been the actual scene...

- Inexplicably (and out of character for the Padme we got to know in TPM), Padme just... rolls with it and lets Anakin continue the creepy behavior she just told him she didn't like? Okay, guess we're reinforcing the idea that when women say "no" they don't ACTUALLY mean "no," persistence always wins, just gotta keep trying no matter what the woman says.

- Anakin strokes Padme's bare skin (she still hasn't said anything to indicate she's okay with this kind of attention), and she kisses him before pulling away and expressing regret over it. Since there's no other explanation given for Padme's sudden attraction to Anakin, we're left to assume that Padme must have been hiding her feelings for him from the get-go and therefore it must have been right for Anakin to keep testing her boundaries (do I really need to spell out how deeply problematic this messaging is??).

- Padme tells Anakin a relationship isn't feasible. (I have frequently come across comments on her "dominatrix dress" in this scene because apparently if a woman is going to turn down a man she has to plan on wearing, what, a burlap sack I guess, so the guy doesn't "get the wrong impression"). Anakin then shuffles full responsibility for his feelings onto her because of "the kiss she shouldn't have given him."

- Anakin commits one mistake and bad decision and egregious crime after another in the movie, as noted above it's not until Geonosis that he makes any decision that could be marginally considered heroic or "good," and... Padme likes this awful behavior, apparently?? Where did Padme liking this come from??? (If you're going to have freakin' rational smart independent kick-butt PADME fall for something like this, at least explain/show WHY.)

- By the time we get to the "We're about to die so yeah I totally love you" cliche, I'm not even cringing anymore because I'm just trying to figure out how we got to this point in the first place.

So... Yeah, we keep being told this is an epic tragic romance, and all I can see is two hours' worth of indicators that if Padme were my real-life friend, I'd be holding an intervention long before Anakin got assigned to her security detail on Naboo. FOR FORCE'S SAKE, PADME, HE'S BEEN THROWING UP NOTHING BUT RED FLAGS! RED MEANS STOP!!!

Again, this isn't just "Anakin doesn't know how to talk to girls because he was raised as a space monk." (Come on, people, Obi Wan was raised the same way and he does NOT act like that... But I digress.) This is Anakin being a creepy stalker who doesn't listen to the woman he supposedly loves and won't take no for an answer, and he ends up rewarded for it, and we're supposed to cheer him and Padme on and want them to be together?

No. Not me, at least.

And with this as the backstory going into Revenge of the Sith, with us never getting the chance (in the movies) to see Anakin at his best even with the woman he supposedly loves, Anakin's fall doesn't really feel tragic - it just feels... inevitable. His fall is plenty tragic and regrettable for the Jedi and clones and the Republic in general, of course; but with respect to how Anakin's demise affects him, it just hits as being a long time coming.

(At the end of the day, the only reason why I tolerate Anakin/Padme in TCW is because I actively ignore everything about their relationship from AotC. TCW also did such a stellar job showing enough of Anakin's good side contrasted with his darker tendencies that Anakin's fall in RotS now finally hits me as tragic for Anakin in particular. And the only reason why I rewatch AotC is for Obi Wan and the Yoda v Dooku fight, I almost always skip over 90% of the "romance" scenes at this point because I don't like gagging while watching a movie.)

[theoceanoasis]

Hi ^_^

Can we get a part two of Rodimus being deaf with Drift and Ratchet finding out?

Maybe Rodimus tells them he laid down for just a klik and ended up falling asleep missing their calls and knocks?

They believe him.

Some months later and they live together.

They come home early to Rodimus cooking and call his name but he doesn’t answer. They try a few more times and Rodimus doesn’t answer. Drift yells his name wondering whats going on, he’s about to walk up to him when Ratchet stops him.

He yells Rodimus name too and makes a very loud clap and still no reaction.

“What is he—”

“By Primus..he’s deaf.”

“What?”

“He can’t hear us…he can’t..”

Ratchet takes a moment to think and his optics cycle, “That day we banged on his door..he wasn’t ignoring us…he couldn’t hear us!”

They both look at each other and then at Rodimus who still didn’t know they were in the room.

“Why would he hide this from us?”

“Mechs that couldn’t be fixed were considered mechs that shouldn’t exist..”

Ratchet looked somber, anguish washing over at the memories of so many smelted or left for offlining for not being “functional.”

He lifted his pede and let it hit the floor hard making Rodimus look up. The sudden vibration caught his attention and he looked around confused before turning and his spark froze.

“I..drift..ratchet..”

“Don’t lie kid, we know,” his signing was rusty but Ratchet still got his message across.

They noticed his words were a little lagging without being able to hear them and following his optics glance across the room, they saw his audial implants.

“So thats how you hear.”

It was..painful. Drift sat Rodimus down and held his shoulder struts from behind while Ratchet took a look at his audials and implants.

His implants are fine and Ratchet discovers what Rodimus already knows, that it can’t be fixed.

Drift tightens his grip on Rodimus to keep him from running away and Ratchet holds onto his face plates.

“This doesn’t change a thing kid,” he mouths.

Drift can’t sign but he can transfer thoughts and feelings and he says the same.

—

Just an idea i wanted to splurge.

Do whatever you please

The next day Ratchet and Drift were acting weird and part of him panicked wondering if they somehow knew.

Realistically he knew it wasn't possible but he was still nervous as he watched the two of them. Ratchet seemed particularly cold with him and even snapped at him.

He'd given him a hurt look not understanding what he'd done wrong until Drift told him.

He quickly came up with an excuse feeling embarrassed and silently angry at himself for forgetting their movie night. He should have been more careful and he was lucky they didn't find out.

"I'm sorry. I'd been so tired that night I ended up falling asleep."

"We heard the TV."

"I accidentally rolled onto the remote in my sleep but I was deep asleep and didn't hear it."

He gave him an embarrassed look and was relieved when both Drift and Ratchet bought it.

He promised to schedule another movie night with them and Ratchet made him promise that he'd get better sleep so that didn't happen again.

A few months later and he was now mostly living with them. If he needed to charge his audials he'd usually tell them he needed space and would sleep there for the night.

He'd been so busy recently he didn't have time to charge his audials and they were running out of battery.

Since Drift and Ratchet would be gone all day he decided to risk it by charging his audials while they was gone.

He would have gone back to his room. But that night was date night and he promised to cook for them. He had a lot of work to do and all his cooking supplies were in their kitchen. He also didn't want to be so far away from his audials in case he needed to quickly put them on.

Ratchet and Drift had gotten off work early to surprise Rodimus. They walked inside their apartment and could smell Rodimus cooking them dinner.

Drift called for Rodimus and frowned when he got no response. The two of them called him multiple times and assumed he was listening to music or distracted by something.

They walked into the kitchen and Drift loudly called Rodimus who didn't respond. They don't see him dancing like he'd usually do when he's listening to music and his back was facing the two of them.

Drift went to tap on Rodimus shoulder when Ratchet stopped him.

He yelled Rodimus name and loudly clapped his hands.

They both stood there watching as Rodimus still didn't react and Drift gave his future Conjunx a worried look, wondering if something was wrong with Rodimus. Ratchet however was staring at him in shock.

"...He's deaf."

"What?"

"He can't hear us... He can't..."

Ratchet trailed off as he realized something.

"That day we were banging on his door. The reason he didn't answer is because he couldn't hear us."

They both looked back at Rodimus and Drift gave him a sad look.

"Why would he hide this from us?"

"Mechs who couldn't be fixed were seen as useless and people thought they shouldn't exist."

Drift growled looking angry and Ratchet just looked sad remembering all those he couldn't fix who were then left to die.

Unable to take it anymore Drift rushed over and hugged Rodimus from behind. Wanting to protect him from the cruel world they live in that had tried to destroy his beautiful future Conjunx.

Rodimus jumped in surprise nearly dropping what he'd been holding when Drift caught it. He looked over at them in surprise and confusion as Drift kept holding onto him nuzzling his cheek.

"Drift.... Ratchet.... You're home early..."

He gave them both a nervous look wondering if he could excuse himself to the bathroom and grab his audials along the way.

"Don't lie kid, we know."

He froze as Ratchet attempted to sign. He was rusty and it took him a moment to translate, but he eventually figured out what he was trying to say.

Rodimus felt tears in his optics which he forced away unwilling to cry at the moment as he looked between the two mechs he loved and his implants that were charging.

"So that's how you hear."

Ratchet went to touch them and he flinched ignoring the worried look Drift gave him he walked over and put them on. The entire time his frame was vibrating so hard you could hear it.

Both Drift and Ratchet gave him worried looks as he stood there shaking and trying not to cry now that his secret had been revealed. He was expecting a rejection and was surprised when none came. Instead they pulled him into their arms and told him how much they loved him and that this didn't change anything.

He cried in their arms and the three of them sat on the couch cuddled together. Drift held him while Ratchet looked at his audials and the implants he was wearing silently wondering how he never noticed something so important about the mech he loved.

He looked down feeling ashamed knowing they couldn't be repaired and that he'd been selfish. They didn't deserve a damaged Conjunx and should leave him and find someone better.

Both Drift and Ratchet must have realized what he was thinking because they held him close. Ratchet signed that it didn't change anything and that they loved him while Drift pushed his love and adoration through his field.

He cried some more letting Drift and Ratchet hold him and reassure him in a way he never thought possible.

[physalian]

Narrative Framing Devices

This is a long one…

A story need not be told chronologically, nor does it have to be only one layer deep. There’s a ton of different ways to frame your narrative, I’m just picking a couple today, some I thought worked and some I thought didn’t, and my personal favorite.

Most people think of framing devices in terms of time travel stories or fairytales, where it may start in the present or the future and work backwards, giving up the ending before telling how we all got here. Or by chopping up the chronology and letting the audience try to puzzle out the order.

There are also those that break the fourth wall, with the narrator beginning the story directly addressing the audience but never doing so again, or the narrator opening the story telling their own story to a present audience, so we’re the audience behind the fictional audience.

The other obligatory framing device is the time-skip, a la “6 years later” or “8 months later”. I’ve already talked about those. Or the preface/preamble/prologue that may spoil some important event later in the story, or is simply an important moment or montage of moments to catch the reader up on “how did we get here”. Shoutout to Castlevania for the most efficient pilot episode I have ever seen, with a 1 year timeskip.

Also honorable mention to the “A Life in the Day” montage from Magicians, speedrunning decades of a life together between two characters stuck in a Situation, maybe 60 years? Key moments between the two having a whole romance, with a kid and grandkids, over the course of one beautiful bit of soundtrack. One of the best episodes in the show, for a sequence that only lasted a little over 5 minutes.

—

Story within a Story | Princess Bride, "Ember Island Players"

Best example I can think of, specifically the film, which is based on a book that already incepts itself. The movie opens with a regular kid being read the book The Princess Bride by his grandfather, and occasionally cutting between the kid’s reactions and the fantasy story with the actors.

There’s several moments where the grandfather either loses his place and rereads a scene that replays the same dialogue, or skips a scene in the “kissing book” because his grandson gets squirmy, and moments where the grandfather narrates over a couple montages.

Princess Bride is one of those movies that knows exactly what it is and isn’t trying to be something it’s not. It’s self-aware and loudly and proudly sincere, with one of the best revenge arcs ever put to film.

Recap episodes can either be clipshows or get really creative like ATLA, telling the series recap through the medium of a propagandized play about the Avatar's journey, performed by actors of the Fire Nation. The Gaang sits there in vague states of discomfort, horror, or in Toph and Sokka's case, thrilling enjoyment, watching their hardships and heartbreaks played for laughs. That it's the story we know, but also with the added filter of it being enemy propaganda takes what could have been just a clipshow and still told multiple layers of a story with it.

The Fourth-Wall Break | Riordan-verse, Deadpool

“Look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood” defined a generation. It’s one of those fourth wall breaks that opens up the story and never appears again, though occasionally Percy will get slightly self-aware, saying things like “I didn’t know it then, but I’d never come back here”. But for PJO it almost doesn’t count.

Kane Chronicles on the other hand chose a bizarre framing device, having the two leads pretend to host a radio show, or a podcast—something where they were recording themselves and I don’t think it worked very well whenever it popped up and stopped the plot.

Shoutout to Tangled, too, for having a fairytale style fourth-wall break at the end, much like KC, where Flynn reveals that Rapunzel has been listening to him tell their story the entire time. Many fairytale stories open up with the physical book flipping open to the story, like Shrek and Shrek 2, but I don’t think those are translatable to the written medium very well.

The big one, though, is of course Deadpool. Have not seen the second one, and while ‘breaking the fourth wall’ isn’t by itself a framing device, DP & Wolverine absolutely makes it one, fast forwarding and jumbling up the sequence of events to deliver a “how did we get here?” during the opening credits.

Chronology Salad | Memento, Predestination

Have not actually seen Memento but I know the premise, working backwards as the protagonist recovers his memory of “how did we get here?” Predestination is a batshit insane time travel story that I don’t think most people have even heard of and detailing the plot at all is giving spoilers but it is the most “how the fuck did we get here??” movie I have ever seen.

Then you have stories like Twilight that open with “I’ve never given much thought to how I would die” that spoils (kind of) the ending, with the goal of the story not detailing if something bad will happen, but how. Twilight’s prologue reminds me of The Bachelor, where they’ll tease the audience with *shocking* moments completely out of context from later in the season that are way less cool when they actually come to pass (from the one time I watched with relatives out of morbid curiosity).

The point of these chronological mixups is how all the random puzzle pieces fit together, despite essentially spoiling themselves constantly, they’re so random, so out of place, meant to keep you constantly guessing until the big reveal of the picture on the box—and are extremely tricky to do well without completely losing your audience. You’d have to have a very thorough outline to not confuse yourself while trying to write it.

Honorary mention here for Inception, one of my favorite sci-fi movies, because the plot is crazy, but still told chronologically, just across different dream levels. However, the movie does open with the ending scene (though you don’t know that on your first watch). And Tenet, but I don’t know anyone who likes or cares about that movie.

Dual Timelines | Outlander

There are others I just cannot think of them at this moment. Dual timelines tell two stories simultaneously across two different eras, either decades apart or mere hours, with some relation between the two. Sometimes one timeline’s protagonist is the ancestor of the present timeline, for example.

Dual Timelines happen in sequential order, making them distinct from a flashback arc (more below) essentially two chronological plots running in tandem squished into the same book, episode, or film. They carry equal weight and try not to overshadow each other in flair or importance.

In Outlander, Protagonist Claire is already a time traveler, in a time travel story whose rules are “whatever happened, happened, and you end up causing whatever you tried to prevent”. Season 2 opens with her returning to the present, leaving the entire rest of the season with a foreboding sense of dread, wondering what will get her back to that moment.

Season 3 dangles the carrot on the stick, randomly cutting between Claire in the 60s and trying to move on with her life for… I think 20 years, while Jaime, her love interest from the past, just keeps getting kicked while he’s down. It takes forever to get these two back on screen together. And the dual timelines continue taking up screen time when Claire and Jaime’s adult daughter also eventually makes a trip to the past. Points off for being blatantly manipulative storytelling with its cliffhangers, but season 1 is still worth the watch.

Flashbacks, Flash-Forwards, and Flash-Sideways | Lost

This show’s earlier seasons were heavily framed with this device. In The first 3 seasons (up to the last episode) the framing device was exclusively flashbacks, focusing on one of the main 13 heroes for an episode, particularly in season 1.

They didn’t always answer “how did we get here” but told some story relevant to the character in the present, either a challenge they had to face or parallel relationship drama or ghosts come back to haunt them. Usually, these little flashbacks were told in sequential order, but they could hop months or years ahead at a time depending on the episode.

The flash-forwards began in season 4 and closed the gap between the “Oceanic 6” escaping the island and all the missing time while they were gone, before the infamous “We have to go back” line.

The show also had flash-sideways, which featured the main cast, many of whom had been dead for a few seasons, reprising their roles to show what could have been their lives if they never crashed. To… mixed reception.

The show also also had a time-traveling character who in-universe experienced flashes of the future and got mentally temporally displaced between two timelines for a hot minute.

Lost was… a show that demanded a dedicated following. I still love it.

Flashback Arcs | My own personal soapbox

This right here is the whole reason for this post. First you have flashback episodes and I can name a lot of those—ATLA has a couple, “The Storm” & “The Avatar and the Firelord” but both are technically “stories within a story” with characters either around a campfire telling it or reading about it. The alternate timeline takes up a majority of the runtime, only occasionally cutting back to the present characters for a reaction.

In TFP there’s an offbeat flashback episode “Out of the Past”, framed, again, as a character telling this backstory stuff to another character. Many, many vampire stories will have flashbacks to some degree, since their characters live for so long. Vampire Diaries, especially in the earlier seasons, had dozens of them filling in all the blanks back during the Civil War when the two leads, Stefan and Damon, were competing for the affections of the main villain, all leading up to how they were turned, and how she allegedly died. Once the Originals were introduced, the show then had flashbacks to a thousand years ago, when they were human, and various eras in between.

True flashback episodes don’t waste precious minutes setting up a framing device, they just dump the audience in an alternate timeline and let them figure it out on their own that something isn’t right.

But none of that comes close to the full-on Flashback Arc. I. Love. This. Trope.

I actually first saw it when Arrow was good in its earliest seasons, cutting fairly equally between a present-day Oliver back home and starting his hero journey, and him learning combat back in the past, over several episodes like a series within the series.

What you end up with is a happy medium between a full dual timeline and a random grab-bag of flashbacks as they become necessary to the plot. A flashback arc relies entirely on the existence of the A-plot to make sense, as opposed to a dual timeline where it’s essentially two self-sufficient stories rolled into one big narrative. This arc is substantially shorter than the rest of the plot, cutting the story it’s telling down to the absolute need-to-know moments and cutting all transitions between the two. These arcs tend to cover weeks, at minimum, and decades of a long life at most.

I think they're best implimented after the first book, film, or season. Not something you want to throw at your audience who barely knows or cares about these characters, so if you're stuck with ideas for a sequel, consider the Flashback Arc.

My favorite thing that I have ever written (sans ENNS) was for my sci-fi WIP, a C-plot flashback arc in 13 parts. They started out as in-universe nightmares to give credibility to when these flasbacks started occuring, framed around the character's reaction to the scene, but then took off independently to avoid redundancy.

This arc covered his time as a POW, telling the reader how he came to be the living weapon he was, and the first detail it opened with was the reveal that he wasn’t the only one of his kind, he’d lied and shouldered the blame of every atrocity to protect the others, as their numbers dwindled and it all fell into place. A truth he wouldn't tell with a gun to his head.

Because you already knew he lived, because he’s right there in the present A-plot, the arc wasn’t telling you if he’d survive the war, but what he’d do to survive, and how it all fell apart. Because it was framed up with the existing narrative, I had a lot more leeway in omitting details and dropping the reader weeks or months ahead as opposed to this being a completely fresh story with new characters. You knew immediately based on the tone that this POV was the C-plot flashback POV, and you knew the only person who could narrate it was my poor character.

Over 13 POVS, 34k words (of a total whopping 202k), I told a whole love story, established and killed off 10 characters, and gave heaps of worldbuilding lore and exposition to fill in all the blanks in the present and answer questions that this character would never, and revealed just how much he lied about and why.

All of this tied in with the A-plot, staggering the physical placement of POVS within the book to hit at the right moments tonally and as the character’s condition kept deteriorating because he refused to talk about What Happened. His reason was that he’d done all of this and suffered so much to keep their legacies pure. If he gave it up now, he would have done all this for nothing.

And this was some heavy shit. There was murder, suicide, death by giant alien super robots fond of ripping people apart, assault, mercy killing, torture, gaslighting, and psychological horror. One of my magic systems let magicians regrow limbs alchemically, which meant they could endure a shit ton of pain and just get reset to do it all over again.

It was a lot.

But because it was just in flashbacks, I gave you just enough dark shit before cutting back to something marginally lighter, not just one long slog of misery. There was also the unknown of how quickly it would end. The book would end when you hit the last page, but you had no idea which flashback POV would be the last.

And also.

I got to flex my writing skills to the fullest, writing this character’s flashback POV in a completely different tone and style to make it that much more distinct from the rest of the present book.

ENNS’ sequel is very much under construction, but the one thing already polished is a flashback episode packed into one chapter for one of my characters. It’s perfectly knife-twisty and I can't wait for people to read it.

—

There’s dozens of framing devices out there. Most important thing, I think, is not sacrificing audience understanding for the sake of something ‘cool’. Doesn’t matter how amazing the story is if your audience gets completely lost and confused trying to keep up with what’s going on.

If you'd like to check out my book, Eternal Night of the Northern Sky is available now!

[ohtheewhorer]

Dale “Longlegs” Kobble x Clingy/Dom Gf!Reader

I can’t stop thinking about how tragic Dale’s life was and how it ended in the movie… (828 words)

So we know that Oz Perkins made Dale a very layered character with one of those layers being that, aside from being so evil, he’s a very sad and lonely old man.

Dale is definitely so used to being feared and avoided that it’s natural for him to be alone for long periods of time. He never goes out much unless it’s to run some errands for himself or Satan. At home, he’s either making his dolls, singing and head-banging to his music, or straight up talking to himself.

Then, you come along. Probably as roommates or maybe you’d eventually move in to his home after sometime of dating. You and Dale instantly click because your interests align. You both love music, crafts, dressing up and such. Not to mention you’re an absolute angel in his eyes; bubbly, full of heart, and always willing to see the good in others. And you’re also very perceptive and could easily identify that Dale is in desperate need of someone who’ll care enough about him. The world’s so ostracizing of misfits and he’s been casted aside for so long that he’s not only accepted it but embraced it to the point where he simply does not care to conform.

But you don’t ever wish for him to conform. You love the way he is and despite what he may say regarding his insecurities of his appearance ‘fading’ youth, you find him so breathtakingly beautiful and you only wish he could see it. The only ways in which you’ve expressed this is by being so doting and loving to him.

The way you’d hang on his every word, hold him, sometimes clinging to his side even when he’s busy working in the basement, or telling him he’s beautiful and that you love him every chance you get, and, of course, in the way you kiss and make love to him.

At first, Dale’s probably uncomfortable and maybe a little annoyed, wondering why is it that you wished to be so close to him all the time. But give him the benefit of the doubt, he’s just not use to such sincere love like this and one day it legit makes him cry to the point where he’s sobbing so loud and you just end cradling him and telling him everything’s okay and that you’re here for him now.

No more were the days would Dale come home to a quiet and empty home because he’d barely get a foot through the threshold of his house before your jumping him and peppering his plump face with big wet kisses. No longer were there days or even weeks where Dale would go hungry, because you’d always whip him a good home-cooked meal making sure he’s well-fed and hydrated.

One day he’s home alone because your probably at work or out with friends, and these anxious feelings like the fear of abandonment would just hit him hard. He’s worried that you’ll leave him one day and he’ll be all alone again. That meant no more of your warm hugs, playing in his hair, or hearing your sweet voice singing to him. And whenever Dale gets scared, he does irrationally things. So he’s just planning ways he could keep you from ever leaving him like searching up ways to slowly brainwash you and make him be all that you need.

You learn of this tactic one day when he’s acting all suggestive and weird around you. Then, you stumble upon the collection of books he’s purchased that are about persuasion and other psychological things. And you simply laugh and feel so happy, telling him that you’re not going anywhere.

“Why else would I be stuck to you like glue, Dale?”You say. “I’m never leaving you and you’ll never leave me.” Because you’re just as obsessed with him as he is with you.

And you’d show him just how obsessed you are late in your shared bedroom where you bound his hands and legs to each post of the bed and ride him until he sees God. And even after he’s cum already 2 times, you push his limits and overstimulate him because you know he can take it. The squish and squelch of your combined fluids and symphony of moans gives you the great idea to record the noise as a gift for him to sample in a song he’ll make someday for you both to listen to.

Then for aftercare, you’d both soak in a nice hot bath and he’d lay against your chest while you shampoo his hair and lightly scratch his scalp. And you’d take the time to wash his body and really take your time admiring and caressing every part of him, handling his pretty cock with care. And it’s in that moment where he truly allows himself the freedom to bask in such wonderful treatment of him and maybe he doesn’t feel like he deserves it but you’re pretty damn convincing.

~All of this to say, I want to pamper and love on Dale *sigh*

[herefortheships]

In the first movie sure, Betelgeuse lowkey deserved to be taken out (there's a grey area there though. He was in the wrong, more in the "villain" camp, though to me he was just all crazy and unhinged and desperate to get himself out of his situation by any means), but in the sequel it didn't feel like the story told earned him being blown up and banished. He should have gotten some sort of reward (although not necessarily Lydia as a wife, though that'd have been my dream). After everything he did and how the narrative treated and portrayed the character this time, he was basically the hero of the story, so him getting betrayed and "popped" at the end didn't feel right. If I have to pick one thing I didn't like in this movie, it has to be that one the baby was awful too but to me this is worse, tbh. Edit: Anyway since this post maybe has a lowkey ranty vibe (not my intent! I'm super positive about this movie, just expressing one gripe I have with it 😅) I decided to put it under a cut below.

Why do I say he was betrayed? Look, marrying might have been his condition to help, which was totaly wrong, but that's just how it works. If you know my Betelgeuse and marriage theory, then even more: making a deal with Betelgeuse might just require marriage due to how his soul is bound to the ritual of marriage itself. Anyway, that's besides the point and just my theory. But yes, we gotta remember we're dealing with a demon here, so there has to be an exchange, and Lydia already knew the exchange was going to be a marriage contract.

So his powers were taken advantage of, and he was used without getting anything in return. The wedding had to be abolished in this sequel (as much as I would have wanted it to go through due to how the beautiful scene impacted me deeply in the cinema), the truth is that Lydia is not ready just yet (though she might be in a third and final movie), so the wedding couldn't be finalized. BUT, that said, they could have cancelled the contract and let Betelgeuse go. I know, he would have protested, but given how he is truly smitten with Lydia, I think he would have left on his own accord to respect her wishes. If he didn't respect her wishes and cared only to escape the afterlife, he would have forced her to marry him in a hurry like he did in the first movie instead of putting up the show he put on for her.

This is why the ending feels off, like there was no payoff. Because there was no payoff. The good guys won, but what did they get? Lydia got Astrid back and lost Rory so she is now free of an abuser, so there's that. Betelgeuse on the other hand, was used and popped like a balloon despite his actions through the entire movie, going above and beyond to help. All conflicts were solved by Betelgeuse, aka the hero of the story, but the hero left empty-handed. Not saying Lydia should have married him here (as much as I wish she did!), but she didn't need to "pop" him and send him away like that, you know? That's how I feel. 🤷🏻‍♀️ Anyway that’s why I know there has to be a third movie. This story isn’t over yet.

[waitmyturtles]

I'm gonna need to buy extra pairs of flip-flops to hurl at GMMTV after today. WTF.