#this was promised to him! his future! his happiness!

[earthchica]

Funny How Times Flies | 4

terry richmond x black, fem!/plus size reader

summary: you and terry make the best of the end of the trip and promise to make time for each other despite being a short distance apart but you begin to have doubts.

warnings: fluff, angst, panic attack, short long-distance relationship, misunderstanding, first-ever argument, jealousy & possessive! terry, explicit smut (18+), fingering, handcuffing, breeding kink, dom/sub, unprotected sex, dirty talking, nicknames (baby, baby girl), words: (5k)

note: i really love how this chapter came out; it might be my favorite. please enjoy! Let me know your thoughts and if you want to be tagged in future parts.

series masterlist

-

You haven't been this happy and at ease in a very long time. This trip has been so excellent, and you’ve had so much fun with your friends, especially with Terry.

Today was the last day, and sadly, all of you had to leave tomorrow morning. Terry wanted this last day to be just the two of you, so first he surprised you with breakfast in bed.

"Good Morning, beautiful," Terry says, placing the tray in front of you and giving you a quick peck before grabbing his plate and sitting on the end of the bed.

You laughed at how cheerful he sounded. “Good morning, handsome!” You responded with a smile and grabbed the fruit bowl first.

"How did you sleep? I bet you slept hella good huh?," He teased with a smirk. You rolled your eyes at him, knowing what he was hinting at.

"I slept amazing, Terry, but I can’t walk now 'cause you had to do that thing," You said, eating out of the fruit bowl; you picked a strawberry and fed it to him, which he gladly took in his mouth.

"Thank you," Terry said, chewing the strawberry down before adding, "You mean the thing you were begging me for?" He asked with a chuckle, and you looked at him as he tilted his head towards you with a smile that caused your heart to flutter.

“Whatever!” You said, sticking your tongue out at him playfully, making him scoff, jump on you, and tickle your side. You bursted out of laughter, trying to push his hands away. “Terry, oh my god, stop.”

He continued to tickle

“That’s what I thought,” Terry stops, looking down at you with those pretty eyes of his. He was staring at you with this affection that made you feel shy. ”God, I love you,” He said, and your eyes widened, realizing what he was saying, and his eyes widened too.

He cleared his throat, moving off of you. “Uh…this breakfast is good,” Terry said, looking away from you. You sat up, sharing through his eyes as he went to talk about something, and you just went on with it to not make it awkward.

After breakfast, both of you got dressed and left the villa. You and Terry walked hand in hand and visited a few gift shops before finding yourselves in a taco restaurant and eating the best tacos you had.

Soon leaving there, you couldn’t help to ask. "So where are we going now?"

Terry shook his head and couldn't help but chuckle, finding your excitement adorable. "I thought we checked out one of the cenotes since we didn't get to go to one in Valladolid!"

"Terry, really???!!!" You asked, hugging his arm tightly, looking up at him with those big warm eyes of yours.

“Yeah, the van is waiting for us,” he said, motioning to the van crossing the street. You grabbed Terry’s hand and dragged him to the van.

The ride was filled with laughter and upbeat Latin music as the car meandered through vibrant landscapes beneath the top of towering trees.

Upon arrival, a guide escorted you to a location where you could change and securely store your belongings. You and Terry changed into swimwear before meeting a woman who assisted with lifeguard sizing.

The lifeguards fit snugly, ensuring your safety as you prepare to explore the cenote's inviting waters. The guide gave you a brief overview of the cenote's history and unique features, adding to the sense of wonder.

As you look at the water, you feel excitement and peace, the beauty of the place enveloping you like a warm embrace.

“Terry, this is truly breathtaking. Thank you!” you exclaimed, giving him a kiss on the lips.

“Anything for you, baby,” he responded. “Come on, let’s go for a swim.” He added, and you stopped him for a second, feeling yourself get a little panicked.

Terry could tell immediately by how your hand began to tremble in his. You didn't hear what he said; it was all muffled as you realized that you might be terrified of large bodies of water.

Your knees slightly knocked as you stared into the water as another couple jumped in with no problem. You started shaking your head and feeling yourself get worked up.

Terry grabbed your shoulders and told you to sit down. You tried to suppress your trembling, but you were failing, so he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

"Hey, hey, hey, baby…just take deep breaths." He instructed, and you did what you were told, closed your eyes, and took several slow, deep breaths.

"There you go…do you still want to do this?" Terry asked, cupping your cheek as your trembling turned to slowly fade away with his soft touch.

"Yes, let’s…let's do it," you said with another deep breath, and he took hold of your hand and walked you towards the edge of the water.

You and Terry slowly got in, feeling the refreshing and invigorating cool water. You were captivated by the vibrant marine life and the beautiful rock formations hidden beneath the surface.

“Thank you,” you said, leaning back against Terry. You felt the warmth of his body against yours, the gentle rhythm of his breath matching the soothing lapping of the water.

“No need to thank me, baby. I’m always here if you need me,” Terry said, kissing your forehead, causing you to smile happily at the words he used, it was similar to what you told him.

“Look at those fish,” you said, pointing at a flash of color that darted past. “They’re like little jewels swimming through the water.” You added.

Terry chuckled, his laughter rich and warm, sending a thrill through you. He said, “Just like us, right? A couple of precious finds in this hidden paradise.”

Your eyes met, and the world around you faded at that moment. “You’re definitely a treasure,” you whispered, your voice barely above the sound of the water.

Terry turned slightly, brushing a braid behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your dark-brown skin.

“And you’re the most beautiful part of this place,” he replied softly. The sincerity in his voice made your heart race, a flutter of excitement igniting in your chest.

“You know, um, I meant what I said earlier…I do love you…I know it’s too soon to say it, but I feel it in my bones, and I know I do,” Terry said, his voice a soft murmur.

Your eyes sparkled, searching through his eyes, and there was truth behind him, a sincere expression on his face. He loved you, and you felt it grow with every intimate moment togather.

You loved him too, but you were a little scared to say it out loud, so you just said, “I know, Terry…..I don’t want this to end; I don’t want to return to the real world…"

You trailed off for a second, looking away. "And this feeling will change,” you confessed, a hint of vulnerability creeping into your voice.

“Baby, I promise this feeling I have for you won't change. We'll make time for each other and create our own moments that we can cherish forever; we just gotta try and give it a chance” Terry suggested, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

Your heart swelled at his choice of words, and you nodded, a smile blooming on your lips, sealing the promise with a soft kiss. In that perfect moment, surrounded by cenotes' beauty, you hoped you two kept the promise.

-

The shift back home wasn’t easy. The first week without Terry was tough, but he called you almost daily and facetime you sometimes at night.

The two of you lived in Louisiana, but you lived in Lafayette, and he lived close to New Orleans was about two hours away from each other.

Terry texted you one day that he was driving down to visit you for the weekend, and you were beyond excited. When you heard the doorbell ring, you rushed to the front door.

You practically swung the door open, and there Terry stood, looking so damn fine in a baseball cap, hoodie with sweatpants. His voice was like music to your ears when he said, "Hey, baby,"

You dragged him in with his suitcases before closing the door and jumping into his arms. His arms wrapped around your waist tightly, not letting you go.

You felt him burying his face into your neck for a second before placing soft kisses on it, bringing butterflies to your stomach. You both stood there, holding each other for a few minutes,

Terry moves from your neck to kiss you softly. You place your hand on the back of his neck, and his tongue begins dancing against you, causing you to let out a light moan.

"Fuck. I missed you," He says, pulling away, resting his forehead against yours while staring into your eyes with a mixture of warmth and love.

"I missed you too, Terry," you said with a smile before slightly pulling away from his embrace, taking his hand, and guiding him to the table in your dining room.

"I made your favorite," he looked at the table and then back at you with a smile. At this very moment, Terry was happy to be here with you for a little bit.

Shortly after eating dinner, chatting, and enjoying each other's company, you were both in the living room, cuddling while watching a movie.

Clearly, neither of you was watching. "Terry, stop," you giggled, moving his hand away from the inside of your shirt. As much as you wanted him to take you, you love being a tease.

"Watch the movie," you said, pointing to the TV. He paused, removed his hands away from you, and crossed his arms while staring at you with a look.

"Don't make that face," you said, looking over at him. Wrapping your arm around his shoulder, you began playing with his ear, causing him to smack his teeth.

"Why shouldn't I? I haven't seen you in weeks. I miss you and want to show you how much I do. I know you do, too," Terry said, giving you a knowing look.

You smiled, didn't say anything, and just rearranged yourself onto his lap and pulled him into a needy, passionate kiss. You pulled away for a second to take your shirt off.

Terry growls at the sight of your breasts; he's very weak. He caresses your body with his soft, large hands while leaving soft kisses on your neck.

His hands moved down your ass and squeezed it harshly before pulling you back into a kiss. Both of you stood from the couch and began to tear each other's clothes off.

You both feeling so aroused and craving for each other. Terry lifted you up, carrying your bridal style, and asked. "Where is your bedroom?"

"It's right around the corner," you said, helping him with the direction. He opened the door and glanced around your cozy bedroom before gently laying you on your bed.

Terry hovered over you and began kissing up your body; you could feel his throbbing, erect dick pressing against your leg. "Terry, please, no teasing. I need you now,"

You moaned as he began to kiss your wet folds. He looked up at you, seeing the need in your eyes. "Of course, my baby needs me." He nodded with a smirk, kissing his way back to your lips.

Terry positioned himself between your legs, and you moaned, wrapping your legs around his hips as you felt him thrusted forward, fulling you up good.

The very good feeling of his dick sliding into your wet pussy almost sent you over the edge. Without warning, Terry began pounding into you, making you grip his back.

Terry lowers his lips to yours and kisses you hungrily while still pounding into you with an unimaginable speed. He bites your shoulder and lets out a muffled moan.

He pulls away to look at you as you let out a moan, feeling yourself clench around his dick already. It was all so good, and desperately wanted to last.

"Ahh, fuck. I miss you, baby; I miss this pussy so much," Terry moans, rearranging the sex position to missionary to the lotus. He lifted you into his arms as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

"Fuck, fuck fuck me, Terry," You moaned, throwing your head back as you felt the undeniable, great pleasure that both of you were giving to each other.

The rocking rhythm of it all and the deep connection were sensational. Your moans were so loud together that you swear you were next-door neighbors who could hear the two of you.

You placed your forehead against Terry's, both of you panting heavily, looking into his beautiful, light eyes as his fast pounding drove you crazy.

"Ahh Yes, Terry. Fuck, I love you; I love this dick," You moaned, feeling your body begin to flutter as you felt yourself get closer to the edge of orgasm.

"You love me, huh?" Terry asked, pulling your hair sightly. You nodded shyly, not realizing you had blurted it out, and felt slightly nervous to repeat it.

"Come on, baby, let me hear you say it again," Terry said, tugging your hair again but a little harder than before, causing you to whimper in pleasure.

"I love you…I love you…I love you, Terry," you chanted loudly with every thrusted he gave you until he kissed you passionately, feeling satisfied.

"Mmm...I fucking love you too, baby so damn much." He moaned, grabbed your shoulders, and you moaned, burying your face into his neck.

Terry pounding harder and faster to the point both of you orgasm together. Both of you screamed each other's names as your bodies shook from the high.

Terry tries to stay steady and hold you but eventually falls on top of you towards the bed. After a few breaths, Terry pulls out, watching his cum dripping before cleaning you up.

He lays down next to you, caressing your cheek with his hand before Terry pulls you into his chest, hearing you mumbling something and you close your eyes and fall asleep from the good dick you just had.

The following morning, the sunlight shone through the blinds, casting on your glowing dark-brown skin, and Terry couldn't help but admire your beauty.

Your silk-pressed hair was sweated, your lips were open, and a little snore came from your mouth. He couldn't help but caress your cheek, lingering on your neck.

Terry smiled happily as you started to stir, slightly mumbling some under your breath as you stretched out your limbs before cuddling back into his chest.

Your eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks before they opened, revealing your warm eyes. You looked up at Terry with a slight smile, who was staring at you.

"You know it's not nice to stare," You said, yawning as his eyes sparkled with the light seeping in from the cracked blind. "I know I can't help it, you're so beautiful"

You felt your heart flutter; it was wonderful how this man affected you so strongly. "Good morning, baby," he added.

"Morning!" you said, yawning again. Terry smiled, but slowly, that smile turned into a frown. You were about to get out of bed, and he stopped you.

"Where do you think you're going?!" Terry asked, pulling you back into the bed, causing you to giggle. "To start my morning routine and shower if that's okay with you, handsome."

"Yeah, but only if I join," He said, kissing the sweet spot on your neck, causing you to let out a small moan.

"Mmm, okay, but you gotta catch me," You said playfully, rushing off the bed.

"Hey," Terry growled, jumping out of bed. You giggled as you ran into the bathroom; right behind you was him.

You and Terry had a fantastic weekend and continued to have those weekends, but as a few months went by, you two still made time for each other, working around strict job schedules.

You slowly felt this wouldn’t work out and began to distance yourself. Terry immediately noticed you weren’t answering his calls or texts like you used to.

You always give him a rundown of your day, morning to night, ask about him, make sure he's doing well, ask about his work, and try to plan another weekend to see each other.

“Hey, boss, everything alright?” One of his employees approached Terry with a concerned look on his face.

He nodded and said, “Yeah, you think you can hold down the restaurant for me? I got sort of an emergency”

“Sure thing, I got you. Go handle your business” Marcus nodded, giving him a dap and reassuring expression.

“Thanks, Marcus!” Terry said, grabbing his jacket and keys. He was so worried that he was on his way to Lafayette to see you and figure out what was wrong because he didn’t like this distance from you.

Meanwhile, you were just getting off work, checking your phone, and seeing multiple notifications from Terry. You sighed and ignored them.

You grabbed your bag and phone and went to look for an Uber on it since your car was in the shop until the next day. You were almost out of the door until you heard a familiar voice call your name.

“Hey, we’re going to get some drinks, you should come” Quentin said, walking alongside you and you weren’t gonna lie before you went on this trip and met Terry.

You had a slight crush on Quentin. I mean, he was a fine, brown-skinned brother with charm. You were surprised he was even talking to you.

You guessed that after coming back from the trip, you had this new glow that attracted more people. You were less shy and introverted and more talkative and open to others.

“Oh come on, it would be fun,” He said, and you thought about it for second looking into his brown eyes. “Okay, I’ll go, only because my car is in the shop and I need a ride home”

“Well, I’m your guy,” he said charmingly. You, Quentin, and a few other co-workers went to a bar and had a great time. Quentin made sure you went home, and you and the two were laughing.

Quentin walked you to your front door, not noticing the car in your driveway. Terry was watching the whole thing. He texted you earlier that he was here, but you didn't answer.

So he was just waiting for you to come home, and now seeing you and this guy, he thought the worst. However, he tried to keep a level head and not jump to conclusions.

“Thanks for inviting me and giving me a ride, Q. I had a lot fun” You said, turning towards him with a friendly smile.

“Of course, anytime. Um…I was wondering if…” He started, getting this look in his eyes, and you knew where this was going, so you stopped him quickly.

“I have a boyfriend,” You said shyly, looking away for a second, then back at him. He looked slightly disappointed but changed his expression fast.

“Oh, shit…of course you do, beautiful woman like had to be taken sorry,” Quentin said, and you were about to say something until you heard a car door open and closed loudly.

“What the hell is going on here?” A familiar voice came out. You and Quentin turned your head, and Terry came up from his car. You didn't notice it in the driveway.

Your heart began racing, and you felt slightly scared, not for yourself but for Quentin; you had not seen this level of fire and possessiveness in Terry's eyes until now. 

It was hot and scary at the same time. Terry approached your side, wrapped his hand tightly around your waist, and saw a look at Quentin.

“Uh…Quentin, this is my boyfriend, Terry, and Terry…” You started clearing your throat before you could finish your sentence. Terry cut you off and said, “I don’t give a fuck. Who is he? Why is he here?”

“My brother….was just.” Quentin began but Terry didn’t let him finish.

“I ain’t yo brother, I don’t fucking know you” Terry said, raising his voice a little bit and you placed your hand on his chest to calm him down while looking up at him.

“Terry, relax. Quentin is my coworker. Me, Him, and some of my other coworkers went out for drinks. He was just making sure I was getting home safe,” you explained, trying to reassure Terry, but the tension in his posture was still firm.

“Look…Ima go, I’ll see ya at work,” Quentin said to you before rushing off to get in his car and drive away fast. You scoffed, feeling slightly embarrassed.

You got your keys out, opened the front door, and looked at Terry, motioning him to get inside. Terry bit his bottom lip, looking away, before walking into the house, with you following him behind.

You closed the door, locked it, and placed your bag on the side table. “What was that, and what are you doing here?” You asked, following Terry into your living room and watching him go sit on the couch.

"Nah, I don’t think I need to explain myself. What’s up with you and the old boy?" he replied, folding his arms and looking at you.

"Terry…like I said, Quentin is just my co-worker, nothing more or less. You think I can't talk to other men just because I'm with you? Even when It’s just an innocent conversation!" you shot back, frustrated.

"It didn’t look like just an innocent conversation to me," Terry said defensively. "You were smiling at him like you wanted him or something."

"Don't make this into something it’s not, Terry," you said, calm but firm as you took your shoes off. "I was just being friendly and thanking him, that’s all."

"Friendly? You were practically fucking flirting with him!" Terry shot back, his expression tightening.

"Flirting? Is that what you call it? I was just being polite! You're being fucking ridiculous right now, Terry," you countered, crossing your arms in frustration.

Terry shook his head. "I don’t want you to talk to “Quentin” again. He was clearly interested, and he wanted something from you."

You sighed, feeling the weight of the situation. "Terry, I'm allowed to talk to people, especially my co-workers, man or woman. Plus, I made it clear to Quentin before you jumped out of your car and acted all possessive and shit….I told him that I have a boyfriend."

“I don’t want him or anyone else. I want you, Terry,” You added, moving towards him, and Terry's expression softened with a flicker of remorse.

“I’m sorry, baby, but I just….these past few days, you’ve been distant, not answering my calls or texts, and I needed to see you. When I saw you with Quentin, I don’t know; I just thought the worst and saw red, " he expressed.

You took a breath and grabbed hold of his hand before next to him on the couch. “I’m sorry too, Terry. I should’ve answered your calls and texts…I guess I’m still trying to work on my communication.”

“Hey, it’s okay," he started, looking at you softly. "Do you really drive two hours to come to see me?" You asked with a slight smile.

"Yeah, I was worried, baby. Whatever it is that's going on, I need you to know that I'm here to listen and that you don't have to shut me out. ” Terry said softly, kissing your hand, making your heart flutter.

“I thought this short long-distance relationship would work, but I’ve been doubting. I'm gonna be honest, Terry..." You paused for a second, looking away before back at him.

You added, "I can’t keep up with us driving two hours back and forth to see each other; I want you close and right by my side."

Terry took a breath and nodded before speaking. “I understand, baby and I can't either. So it got me thinking, and I've decided to move here and be here with you”

Your eyes almost bugged out. “What? No, I can’t let you do that, Terry. You gotta think this through…" You paused, searching his eyes, and you see he had made his mind up.

"My mind is made up," Terry said with a smile. "But your whole family lives in New Orleans, and your job, the restaurant. You would really give that up for me?” You asked, shaking your head.

“Yeah, it’s worth it because I want to be where you are, the woman I’m madly in love with." He starts caressing your cheek with his soft hand.

"I don’t want to lose you, baby. You are the best thing that ever happened to me in a long time. I’m not letting you go so easy,” Terry added.

His eyes locked onto yours, a fierce determination lighting them. You held his gaze, feeling everything else fade away as tears of happiness came down your face. "Okay, Terry."

"Okay, good!" he said, his voice low, filled with love and devotion that sent shivers down your spine.

"I missed you, you know that?" Terry said, pressing his forehead against yours and you nodded.

"I missed you too, Terry, so damn much!" You cried, and he pulled you into his chest and brushed a stray tear from your cheek.

You trembled at his touch as his fingers wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to him. "I love you so much, baby. You know that, right?"

"I do, and I love you so much, too." It was almost a whisper on your lips, but he heard you. Terry smiled, slowly moved in, and pulled you into a passionate kiss.

You moaned softly, placing your hand on his cheek before slowly pulling away and grabbing hold of his hand. You got up, and he did the same and followed you to your bedroom.

You let go of his hand and went to your dresser. There, you grabbed a pair of handcuffs and handed them to Terry, whose eyebrows raised curiously.

"Do whatever you want with me; I'm yours forever, Terry," you said, wrapping your arms around his waist. This caused him to grin and his eyes to darken.

"Mmm, my nasty girl wants to be handcuffed, huh?" He asked, roughly cupping your chin with his massive hand, causing you to whimper.

You nodded. "Yes!"

"Yes, who?" He asked, still cupping your chin while tilting his head to look at you with gentle dominance.

"Yes, Daddy!" You corrected, already feeling wet with the way he stared into your soul and towering over you with his height.

Terry lets go of your chin, straightening his posture, folding his hands against his stomach, and says, "Strip!"

You slowly take each piece of clothing off while keeping eye contact with him, watching the desire on his face deepen. You were completely naked now, slightly feeling a breeze hit your nipples.

"Mmm, so fucking gorgeous baby. Turn around," Terry says, motioning with his finger. You turn around and feel the heat of his hands on your wrist.

Terry wrapped the cold metal of the handcuff on you and locked them before giving your ass smack. He turned you around to face him and pressed his lips against yours, taking your breath away.

Terry pulls away and helps you get down on your knees before him. You bite your lip, looking up at him for a second, then to his pants. He unbuttons them and pulls them down with his boxer.

You let out a moan as your mouth began drooling at the sight of his big, juicy dick so hard and throbbing. Terry took his hoodie off before grabbing hold of your face.

"You think you can suck me with no hands for me, baby girl?" He asked, and you nodded with confidence. "Yes, I can Daddy"

"Mmm, okay. Go ahead, make Daddy proud," Terry said, hitting his dick against your face before you wrapped your mouth around his dick.

You started to suck him and bob your head slowly while looking up at him, causing him to moan. You began to move your head faster, making Terry grip the back of your head.

“Fuck, baby just like that, just like that” Terry moaned as you continued to suck him as he began to play with your breasts and you took him fully into your mouth,

He let out a moan at the warmth of your mouth, gripping your hair and popping you off of him. You gasped with saliva, looking up at him with desire in your eyes.

"Mmm, fuck I ain't gonna last if you keep looking at me like that, sweet girl. So fucking beautiful: Terry moaned, watching you sucking him back into your mouth.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, open your mouth wider, baby," Terry chanted, grabbing your hair and beginning fucking into your mouth, causing you to moan and your eyes to water slightly.

He pulls out of your mouth, saliva dropping, and slaps his dick against your face causing you to chuckle. "Mmm, yes, love it when you slap me with your big dick."

“Shit...girl..." He continues, and then you take him back into your mouth. "Yes, yes, yes, just like that, keep sucking this dick so good” Terry bites his lip and throws his head back, moaning in pleasure.

You continued to bob your head up and down faster, looking into his eyes, always loving the expression of pleasure he made when you sucked him off.

"Shit, shit, shit, i'm gonna come!" Terry shouted, his panting extremely heavy. His muscles tensed up, veins almost popping from his arms with a loud moan.

You moaned muffled, feeling him release his seed into your mouth. The warm liquid trickled down your throat as he pulled out. You adjust yourself on the floor and taste his cum.

"Mmm, It tastes…sweet, Daddy," You said with a giggle, showing him the cum on your tongue, causing him to let out a moan at the amazing sight.

"You truly are my nasty girl!" He said after a couple of minutes of catching his breath. He went to get a wet washcloth to wipe your mouth before helping you up on the bed.

He didn’t waste any time on putting you on all four, spreading your ass cheeks, and pushing his tongue in your pool of sweetness and lavish wetness.

“Oh, ahhh, yes” You moaned into the sheets, feeling his tongue moving in and out of your wet pussy folds while adding two fingers into your dripping hole.

He began moving them back and forth between the two. Your moans chanted came louder than before as his tongue and fingers moved faster.

"Pussy is pretty and tastes so good, baby. So delicious, how am I so lucky to have you, huh?" Terry asked, giving you little licks here and there.

“Oh shit...Terry, don't stop, please,” You moaned, and he smirked, removed his tongue and his fingers, and replaced them with his dick, making you come.

"Oh my god, oh my.....Terry," You moaned, feeling yourself come hard on his dick as your body began shaking. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head.

Terry grabbed your wrist with his left hand and smacked your ass with his other before thrusted into you hard, causing you to gasp and moan.

"Terry, wait, please," You said, trying to move away, feeling sensitive; he didn't care and continued to grab your wrist and thrusted faster and harder.

“Mmm, fuck, baby, you're gushing, you hear that, baby?” Terry asked, pulling out slowly and thrusted his dick in and out of your pussy, causing wet sounds from your pussy.

"Yes, yes, ahh," You moaned, tilting your head slightly to look back at him with so much pleasure and want. "Fuck me, fuck your pussy, fuck all of me, giving all of that dick deeper."

"Mmm, baby girl. Keep talking nasty to me; you wanted it deeper?!" Terry moaned in pleasure and gave your ass a smack on the cheek and went slightly deeper.

"Shit, yes just like that." You moaned; he always knew how just you wanted and made you feel so good. Terry was looking down at the crack between his dick moving in and out of you.

The sensation of just thrusting in and out, feeling your walls, was everything. He smacked your ass, then grabbed a hand full of your ass cheek to spread them wide.

Halfway through, he takes the handcuffs off of you and pulls out of you. "Ride me, baby. I want to see that pretty face," Terry said, going to lay on his back, and you crawled on top of him.

You positioned his dick to slide into your pussy, causing both of you to moan. You placed your hands on his chest and began to bounce up and down his dick.

He smacks your ass with a growl, and you bit your lip, rolling your hips and grinding against him. You look down at him, meeting his eyes and feeling yourself clenching around him.

Terry opens his mouth in an O shape, watching every expression on your face, being in awe of you fixed on your breasts and loving how you moan his name and your eyes flutter at him.

His hands leaving your ass to caress up along your back softly. "Fuck, girl, keep looking at me like that, fuck with those pretty eyes. Might come and put fucking baby in."

His words made your body flutter slightly. You grinned at him and asked, "Mmm, do you want me to have your baby, big daddy?"

"Shit, yeah, I bet you'll look so damn sexy pregnant with our kid." He said, reaching up to squeeze your breasts. "Especially seeing these beauties all big and vein-filled with milk."

You knew he was just talking, but how he looked at you told you something else. The thought of having a baby with Terry in the future was ideal.

“Ahh...yes, yes, yes I wanna have your baby, Terry, one day,” You chanted out between moans, feeling your orgasm start to get close as you clenched around his throbbing, full of cum dick.

His hips slammed into your ass, feeling his balls hit at a different angle. "I'll give it ya one day if you wanted it, filled you up," he grunted, wrapping his hand around your neck.

"Fuck, yes fuck I'm gonna cum! fuck me” You screamed as he continued thrusted into you. “Me too, baby, together.” Terry let out a choked out of moan, his face scrunching in pleasure as both of you came together.

You blinked, seeing stars as you felt him release his seed deep inside of you, and your eyes rolled in the back of your head before letting out a soft sigh of contentment.

You dropped on Terry's chest, burying your face in his neck. He kissed your cheek and wrapped his arms around you, stroking your back.

Terry lies on your back and cleans you with the same washcloth he used earlier. He then takes a breath, lays beside you, and pulls you into his arms.

He looks at your face to find you knocked out, causing him to grow a chuckle. "I will try to make you a mother one day." His hand slowly reaches your belly, caressing it in circles with a hopeful smile.

[screechingfromthevoid]

You know what I love about the kiss? How fucking joyful it was. It was so light and so happy and so freeing.

The confession was so heavy and came at the last possible moment. Dorian was in his lower register, careful and eloquent. Orym had folded in on himself, shy and quiet. They have the weight of the world in their shoulders and they just needed a moment alone together. To say I love you. To let the other know. It all hinged on the moment before there was no going back.

But this. The kiss. It was after laughter and wedding planning and appreciating little things like lavender honey. Everyone was smiling. Everyone was feeling good. For whatever reason it didn't feel hopeless then. In that moment futures existed. Tomorrows existed. And Orym had one. Orym had a future and a tomorrow in Dorian.

Orym was so moved by all the happiness in the air that he confidently took Dorian by the hand to bring him out to the hall, told, then asked, him he was going to kiss him. All of Orym's fears melt away for ten whole seconds. Dorian stuttered and fumbled his words and kissed him back.

It was so cute. It was so joyous.

You know what it reminds me of? The stolen century. After Lup and Barry fall in love over years and years and they play this beautiful duet together. They lock eyes and smile at each other and steal away, running up the valley, away from it all. That moment of holding each other and just keep on not letting go.

The unrelenting giddiness of it all. The excitement. The glee. The promise of future. Wanting a future. Especially if it's together.

[maybe-im-dark]

Feral father

Based on this post

The TVA agent looked entirely too smug for Logan’s liking as she handed him the manila folder, her eyes glinting with amusement. Logan glared at her, already regretting agreeing to this meeting. He didn’t trust the TVA as far as he could throw them, but apparently, they were doing him a "favor."

“This is some kind of joke, right?” Logan grunted, flipping through the documents.

His stomach churned as the contents became clear. Birth certificates, old photographs, addresses.

“No joke, Mr. Howlett,” the agent said smoothly, leaning back in her chair. “These are your children. Or at least, the ones we’ve managed to track down. It seems your...uh… extensive history has had some unforeseen consequences.”

Logan slammed the folder shut, his claws itching to make an appearance. “I didn’t know,” he said through gritted teeth.

The agent shrugged. “We figured as much. But now you do. And you should know that some of them could use your help—particularly the younger ones. You might not be able to change the past, but you can at least try to be part of their futures.”

Logan left the TVA office that day with the folder tucked under his arm and a heavy weight on his chest.

---

Back at the apartment, Wade was sprawled out on the couch, shoveling popcorn into his mask-covered face while Al was berating him for leaving the milk out. Logan walked in, his usual brooding demeanor darker than usual.

“Peanut, you look like someone just told you there’s no beer left in Canada. What’s up?” Wade asked, sitting up and tossing the popcorn aside.

Logan threw the folder onto the coffee table. “Apparently, I’ve got kids.”

Wade froze, then leaned forward, grabbing the folder with both hands. He flipped through it, his eyes widening. “Holy shit, Logan. You’re like a mutant Johnny Appleseed! Spreading little Wolverines everywhere.”

“Shut up, Wade,” Logan growled, running a hand down his face. “I didn’t know.”

Al snorted from the kitchen. “Of course, you didn’t. But every damn bar has a condom machine in the bathroom. You couldn’t spare a quarter?”

“I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly,” Logan snapped.

Wade cackled, leaning back and kicking his feet up onto the table. “Oh, this is rich. Logan Howlett, the universe’s worst Wolverine and deadbeat dad! But hey, at least you’re taking responsibility now. Right, big guy?”

Logan shot him a glare but didn’t argue. “Some of them are mutants,” he said, his voice softening. “The TVA says they can transfer the younger ones to this universe. I can send them to the mansion, make sure they’re looked after.”

“And the older ones?” Wade asked, his tone unusually serious.

Logan shrugged. “I’ll meet with them. Talk to ‘em. But I’m not... I’m not gonna drop this bomb on their lives. They’ve been fine without me. I’ll just... I’ll just listen.”

Wade studied him for a moment before nodding. “Alright, Wolvie. Sounds like a plan. But just so you know, I’m totally buying a ‘World’s Okayest Dad’ mug for you.”

Logan groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m too old for this shit.”

---

The first meeting was awkward. A young girl, no older than seven, was brought to the mansion. Her name was Emma, and she had Logan’s piercing hazel eyes but her mother’s delicate features. She was scared, clutching a stuffed rabbit as she stared up at him.

“I’m your dad,” Logan said gruffly, feeling like an idiot.

Emma blinked at him, her lower lip trembling. “You’re... you’re scary.”

Logan’s heart twisted. “Yeah, I get that a lot,” he muttered, crouching down to her level. “But I’m not gonna hurt you, kid. Promise.”

It took time, but slowly, Emma warmed up to him. The other children came too—some shy, some excited, some skeptical. Logan wrote checks, sent cards, and made awkward small talk with the mansion staff to make sure the kids were happy.

---

The older ones were harder. He met them in bars, sitting quietly as they shared their life stories. A middle-aged man named Daniel, who worked as a mechanic. A young woman named Claire, who was a chef in Montreal. Logan listened, biting his tongue as they unknowingly revealed parts of themselves that mirrored him.

He never told them who he was. He didn’t feel he had the right. But when Claire mentioned her strange healing abilities, Logan couldn’t stop the small, bittersweet smile that tugged at his lips.

---

Back at home, Wade teased him endlessly, but there was an undercurrent of pride in his voice. “You’re like Santa Claus, Logan! Except instead of presents, you’re handing out emotional trauma and mutant genes!”

Logan rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile that crept onto his face.

Al muttered from her chair, “At least the idiot’s trying. God help those kids if they end up with Wade’s influence too.”

Logan leaned back in his chair, the folder still heavy in his lap. It wasn’t perfect. Hell, it wasn’t even close. But it was a start.

[iamleesi]

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐓 ☠︎

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝'𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝟑𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟, 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟. 18+

𝐀/𝐍: 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞 '𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄' 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭. 𝐀𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧. 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐈 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬... 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝. 𝐓𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐭. 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝟏𝟎𝟎% 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞. 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲!

-> [ 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ] [ 𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗧 𝟮 ]

𝐶𝑂𝑅𝐴𝐿𝐼𝑁𝐸: "𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑑𝑜 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑤𝑎𝑦, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑒."

𓃠

She swears she can still hear his laugh sometimes. It's faint, just a shadow of sound in the back of her mind, but it's there. Fucked up, maybe, but that's how things were going. And more often than not, when she picks up her phone, her first instinct is still to call him. Just to hear his voice. Just to make sure he's okay. But he isn't okay. He isn't anything anymore.

Bucky is dead.

She remembers that last day as if it were yesterday, even though four months have passed. She woke up in his arms like she had every morning for the last three years, his warmth surrounding her in a way that made her feel like nothing in the world could touch them. After everything he had been through, after all the years of pain and fighting, he had finally retired. He was done trying to save the world, done putting his life at risk for someone else's battles. And he was happy with that choice.

They'd bought a little house far from the Avengers Compound, tucked away from the chaos. Not that they didn't love their friends - because they did - but the distance gave them peace. A chance to breathe, to live, to just be themselves, without the constant shadow of war hanging over their heads.

Alpine had come into their lives one afternoon when Bucky was walking home from therapy. A scrawny little white cat, mewling from the edge of a dumpster, had caught his attention. He didn't hesitate, scooping her up and bringing her home like it was the most natural thing in the world. He'd been so proud of that, of finding her, of giving her a safe place to heal. She loved that cat almost as much as she loved him and he loved calling himself a 'cat dad'. Because he always loved having the 'cat mom' by his side - just a thought that made him happy.

He'd been doing so well. Going to therapy not because someone told him to, but because he wanted to. Because he wanted to heal. And he was healing. He smiled more, he laughed more. He even let himself dream about the future - their future. He was starting to open up to the idea of having kids.

But then the call came.

Steve.

It was always Steve.

An emergency, he said. Something about a Russian organization - one that had picked up where Hydra had left off. They had created a group of genetically modified soldiers. Monsters, Steve called them, failed experiments with claws and fangs and things Steve hadn't even been able to describe over the phone.

Bucky didn't want to go. She didn't want him to go. But it was Steve. His best friend. The man who had fought for his freedom as fiercely as he could, and both her and Bucky knew that he would still be with Hydra if it wasn't for Captain America. He was the man Bucky trusted with his life, even now. Steve wouldn't have called if it wasn't absolutely necessary. And so, reluctantly, Bucky packed his things and left that morning, kissing her on the forehead as he promised to come back.

He didn't come back.

Not really. Surely not alive.

By the end of the night, he came back in a coffin.

Steve had been the one to tell her. He showed up at the house, his face pale and his shoulders heavy with a grief that almost matched her own. Almost. But when he started to speak, she couldn't hear him. She felt as though part of her soul had already been ripped out, and the words he said barely registered. The details of the mission, the sacrifice Bucky made to save Steve's life - it all blurred into a hollow roar in her ears.

What she couldn't ignore, though, was the ring.

Steve had handed it to her, his voice cracking as he explained what Bucky had planned. He'd been going to propose. That Sunday, just a few days after the mission, he'd planned the whole day. It was supposed to be the start of something new for them - a new chapter, a new promise.

Instead, it was the day of his funeral.

She didn't cry. She couldn't. The weight of it all was too much, pressing down on her chest until she couldn't even stand. Couldn't breathe. As the casket was lowered into the ground, all she could think about was crawling in there with him. Laying beside him, just one last time. Letting the earth close around them so they could be together forever - exactly as they planned, right? So there was nothing wrong with it.

Steve apologized, over and over, his voice cracking with guilt. "It should have been me." He said, again and again. And of course it should have been him, because Bucky had died to save him. But she couldn't bring herself to say it wasn't his fault. The words wouldn't come. Because deep down, some part of her - a small, bitter, angry part - blamed him.

What if Steve hadn't called? What if he had called someone else? What if Bucky had stayed home where he belonged? If it was selfish to think it, she didn't care. Her mind was full of what ifs - a constant, unrelenting loop of the life they could have had if only things had gone differently.

The condolences came after that. The pity.

Natasha showed up at the house, trying to get her to eat, to move, to live. Wanda also came often, trying to help with her grief, but she couldn't even bear to listen. Sam invited her to the boat, said it might be good to be around people, to get out of the house. But none of it mattered. She didn't want their help. She didn't want their understanding.

She wanted Bucky.

But Bucky was gone. Forever.

So she packed her things, took Alpine and left without telling anyone. She didn't know where she was going, and she didn't care. She just needed to be somewhere else. Somewhere far away.

That's how she ended up at the Pink Palace.

The landlord had called it that with a strange sort of pride, even though it was immediately followed by: "the last family who lived here moved away." He said. "Their kid disappeared. She was never found."

She hadn't cared about the story. It wasn't fancy, it wasn't welcoming, and it wasn't home. But it was cheap, isolated, and far, far away.

That was all she needed.

It was almost the end of November when she finally moved. She hadn't packed much - just the bare minimum. A few clothes shoved haphazardly into a bag, Alpine's golden carrier that took up most of the car's backseat, and a couple of books she wasn't even sure she wanted to read. Everything else she left behind, like she was shedding a life she didn't want to live anymore. She told herself it was enough. It had to be. For now, at the very least.

The inside of the house didn't make her feel any better. The previous owners had left everything: the scuffed furniture, the old kitchen with its peeling cabinets, the faint smell of something sour that no amount of scrubbing could erase. She didn't bring much to make it feel like hers, either, so it just sat there, hollow and untouched, as if waiting for the family that had abandoned it to return. Or their kid. Poor soul.

She thought maybe that was why she hated it so much—the emptiness. Every room felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for her to do something, and she couldn't. All she could do was drag herself out of bed when Alpine meowed for food or when her stomach twisted painfully enough to force her into the kitchen.

Alpine, at least, was always there. She never left her side, trailing her through the house like a small, silent shadow. She'd curl up beside her on the bed at night, or perch on the armrest of the couch when she finally managed to sit down. The little cat had always been attached to her, but now it felt different - like she was waiting for someone, too. She'd catch Alpine sitting by the front door sometimes, staring at it as if she expected Bucky to walk through it at any moment.

It made her chest ache. She'd lean down, scratch behind Alpine's ears, and whisper, "I miss him too." The cat would purr softly, pressing her head into her hand, and for a moment, she'd feel like someone understood. It wasn't much, but it was all she had left.

She told herself the move was a good idea. That leaving was the only way she'd ever get out from under the weight of her grief. Back home, everything reminded her of Bucky: the friends who couldn't look at her without apologizing, the apartment they'd picked out together, the diner down the street where they used to go to all the time. Here, no one knew her. No one looked at her with pity in their eyes or offered their sympathy with awkward smiles. She thought that would help.

It didn't.

Every day felt worse than the last. Maybe it was because she hadn't spoken to another person since she got here - her phone was constantly buzzing, full of texts and calls she wouldn't answer. She ignored all of it. Talking felt impossible, like a mountain she didn't have the strength to climb. Alpine was the only one who heard her voice anymore, and even then, it was barely more than a whisper.

Or, maybe, it was the house itself. The Pink Palace was old, worn-down in a way that no fresh coat of paint could hide. The windows rattled when the wind picked up, and the floorboards creaked no matter how carefully she walked. At night, the noises were worse: the faint scratching of rats in the walls, the groan of the pipes settling. Sometimes, she thought she heard whispers - soft, almost imperceptible - but she always told herself it was just her imagination.

The landlord had warned her about the neighbors, but she hadn't thought much of it at the time. There was the old man upstairs, a veteran who talked to rats like they were his comrades, and two old women who lived down the hall. She hadn't met any of them, and she didn't plan to. Their voices filtered through the thin walls often enough, though - his low muttering at night, their loud bursts of laughter and show tunes during the day. They annoyed her in a way she couldn't quite put into words. It wasn't just their presence; it was the reminder that life was still going on around her, that the world hadn't stopped just because hers had.

She told herself it was fine. That she just needed time. Time to grieve, to heal, to figure out how to keep going without Bucky. But the truth was, she didn't know how to move forward. She didn't even know if she wanted to. Every breath felt like a betrayal, every day another reminder that he was gone and she wasn't.

Now, she was in the kitchen and it was cold. Not unbearably so, but just enough that she rubbed her arms absentmindedly as she poured herself a bowl of chocolate cereal. It was one of the only things she could stomach these days, simple and sweet. The carton of milk was already sweating from how long she'd left it out, but she couldn't bring herself to care. The house was quiet except for the clink of her spoon against the bowl, the kind of silence that wasn't peaceful but heavy, like it had weight to it.

Alpine's eyes were on her back. She could feel them, even without turning around. "Baby, you already ate." She said, glancing over her shoulder at the little cat perched primly on the counter. "Don't look at me like that. You know I might give in."

Alpine tilted her head, her expression perfectly calculated to elicit guilt. Little fucker, she thought, even as the corner of her mouth twitched into something close to a smile. She knew exactly what she was doing - always did. But it was winter, and cats ate more around this time, so maybe she couldn't entirely blame her.

"Fine." She muttered, reaching up to scratch under Alpine's chin. "But not now. Later. Your dad spoiled you too much, I fear."

Alpine blinked, and the look she gave her felt suspiciously like victory.

She leaned against the counter, eating her cereal slowly. Her outfit didn't help with the cold - just an old pair of sweatpants that might have been Bucky's once, back when things were new and stealing his clothes was her favorite habit, and a faded One Direction t-shirt that clung a little awkwardly now. She'd run out of clean clothes two days ago and hadn't yet worked up the energy to deal with it. The laundry, like everything else, could wait.

She was vaguely aware she should care more about the mess she'd already made of the house. The sink was piling up with dishes, and the laundry basket was overflowing in the corner of the bedroom. She hadn't even checked if the washing machine worked - hell, she hadn't gone near the basement where it was only supposed to be. Every time she passed the stairs that led down there, her eyes would catch on the picture hanging on the wall above it: an old, ugly framed photo of a boy holding an ice cream cone. It wasn't creepy in a traditional sense, but there was something about it that unnerved her. She kept telling herself to take it down, but every time she tried, her hands faltered halfway there. Overreacting? Probably. But it didn't stop her.

She was halfway through the bowl - her last clean one, naturally - when she heard it.

The scratching was faint at first, just a tiny noise against the wall or maybe the floor, but it was enough to make her freeze. Alpine noticed it, too; her head jerked toward the sound, ears twitching. For a long moment, they both stayed perfectly still, listening.

When it came again, louder this time, she tossed her spoon onto the table with a little too much force. The clang it made was sharp, startling in the quiet room. Alpine shot her a look, her wide green eyes unimpressed but resigned, used to her mood swings by now. It had been four months and she still had a lifetime to go.

Her immediate thought was rats. It had to be. The man upstairs with his weird rat obsession was starting to drive her insane. She'd kept her mouth shut because, honestly, what was the point? If they stayed outside, she could deal. But clearly, they weren't staying outside anymore.

Her frustration mounted as she stalked toward the living room, bare feet cold against the hardwood. It was a mess of unused furniture, the kind that looked like it had been here forever, all draped in white sheets that made the room look like a graveyard. She flipped the light switch, and the old bulb overhead flickered a couple of times before settling into a dull, yellow glow.

She scanned the room, her eyes darting to every shadow and corner, but there was nothing. The scratching had stopped the moment she stepped in.

"Great, am I going crazy?" She muttered, crossing her arms. Alpine padded into the room behind her, her little white paws silent against the floor. The cat stopped a few feet away, head tilted up, watching her with an expression that bordered on curiosity - maybe even concern, if cats could feel that. After a moment, Alpine glanced around the room herself, eyes scanning the corners like she was also checking for intruders.

"Unless there's a secret door around here..." She said, her voice dry. "We have no rats. Maybe we both are going crazy, Al. We need friends. I saw a black cat outside earlier - maybe you'd like him? But then again, you don't like anyone, do you?"

Alpine blinked at her, slow and deliberate, as if to say, I tolerate you, don't I?

"Right. You do." She said, sighing as she gave the room one last look. "You could do your cat things, you know? Go find the rat or the squirrel or... whatever was making that noise. Isn't that, like, your job?"

Alpine, ever the queen of unbothered, blinked slowly at her before leaping onto one of the covered chairs. She circled once, twice, and plopped down in the dead center like she owned the place.

"Oh, I see how it is." She said, gesturing vaguely toward the corner of the room. "I'll just go check it out myself, then. You stay there, Your Majesty. Don't strain yourself."

There were no rats around, no weird animals sneaking through the house - just the occasional spider in the corner. Sure, they were unsettling (spiders were spiders, after all), but they didn't scratch walls or skitter across floors loud enough to wake her up. She was still absolutely convinced one of her neighbor's stupid rats had managed to crawl into her house, but those little guys knew how to hide. She didn't have any traps, didn't feel like running to the hardware store to get some, and frankly, she couldn't bring herself to care enough to chase them down.

So, she went to bed. Or rather, she tried to.

Her body felt heavy with exhaustion, but her mind refused to shut up. It was like that most nights - crying herself into something halfway between sleep and pure misery. She wasn't sure what time it was when her eyes shot open. 2 a.m.? 3 a.m.? It didn't matter. The house was silent except for the sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.

And then, there it was again. The scratching.

She tried to ignore it, rolling onto her side and pulling the blanket up to her neck. But now it sounded like two sets of paws scratching. Or maybe three. A chorus of little claws, just loud enough to make her want to scream into her pillow.

That was it. She threw the blanket off and got out of bed, Alpine letting out a disgruntled mrrp from her spot at the foot of the mattress. The cat yawned and stretched like she was coming off a twelve-hour shift and had no intention of working overtime, then promptly curled up again.

"Thanks for the backup, Al." She muttered under her breath, her steps loud against the creaking floor as she headed for the stairs.

The house was mostly in the darkness, the moonlight spilling through the windows just enough to see by. She didn't bother flipping on the lights - she didn't need to. Her legs carried her straight to the living room, and her hand reached out for the switch before she even had to think about it.

And there they were.

Two rats, scratching at the wall right behind the couch, their little bodies half-hidden by one of the white sheets still draped over the furniture. She stared at them, her lips pressing into a tight line.

"I knew I wasn't crazy. Not yet, anyway."

The rats didn't even flinch at her voice, too busy clawing at the wall. She frowned. Clearly, she hadn't thought this through: no traps, no plan, just righteous indignation and a pair of rats that didn't seem to give a single damn about her existence.

"Okay." She mumbled, taking a step back. "Fine. Stay there, little guys, don't move. I'm going for Plan B."

The kitchen. Maybe there was something useful there. She left the rats to their scratching and marched down the hall, pulling open cabinets and drawers with a single-minded focus. She wasn't entirely sure what she was looking for - maybe some old traps left behind by the previous owners. The smell of mold hit her first, making her wrinkle her nose as she dug through the shit that had been left behind.

Nothing. Nothing but useless, stupid junk.

She opened another drawer, and that's when she saw them: keys.

Dozens of them.

She stared down at them, her hand hovering over the strange collection. They were all different sizes and colors, most looking as old as the house itself. Some were rusted beyond repair, others shiny and new, but none of them made sense. There weren't enough doors in this house to justify half of these keys, let alone all of them.

One caught her eye, standing out from the rest.

It was different - heavier, more ornate, with a handle that curved into an odd shape. The other side of the key wasn't jagged like the rest but smooth, and there was something unusual about the tip of the handle. It was round, like a small button.

"Particular. Particularly ugly." She muttered, turning it over in her hand. Maybe it was a toy? Some part of a playset the previous owner's kid had lost and forgotten. It wouldn't have surprised her; the house was practically a time capsule of neglected junk. Herself included.

She felt Alpine brush past her leg, but before she could think more about the strange key, the sound of scratching came again. This time louder, more insistent. The rats.

"Stay here, Alpine. Mama has work to do." She mumbled to herself, shoving the key absentmindedly into her sweatpants pocket and leaving the drawer open behind her. She followed the noise back to the living room, muttering under her breath about how tired she was of this nonsense.

The two culprits were still there, busy clawing away at the wall behind the couch. She stopped in the doorway and folded her arms, glaring at them like they might actually respond.

"I'm not even sure I have edible food anymore." She said aloud, her voice as dry as ever. "So if you're looking for that, you're in the wrong house. Go annoy someone else."

The rats didn't flinch, still focused on whatever had their attention. She tilted her head, studying them. They weren't looking for food, not really. They weren't sniffing the air or scurrying around. They seemed fixated on something - like they were trying to get to it.

She took a cautious step forward. "Alright, Ratatouille." She said, her tone edged with exasperation. "Move. Let me see what's so important to you. But then you have to leave, this is not some hotel for wild animals."

The moment she approached, the rats scattered, darting away with tiny squeaks and disappearing into the shadows. Typical. She sighed, shaking her head, and turned her attention to the wall.

The couch was pressed tightly against it, but there wasn't anything unusual about the spot - at least, not at first glance. She stepped closer, gripping the edges of the sheet-covered furniture and giving it a hard tug to drag it out of the way. Dust puffed into the air, and she coughed, waving a hand in front of her face.

And then she saw it.

At first, she thought it was just another patch of peeling wallpaper, but the more she looked, the clearer it became. There was a faint outline in the wall - small and rectangular, no bigger than a cupboard door. It blended into the faded wallpaper almost perfectly, as if it wasn't meant to be noticed.

"What the-." She whispered, her brow furrowing as she crouched down. She reached out, her fingers brushing over the edges. It felt solid beneath her touch, though her nails caught on the subtle grooves around the frame. A door.

The realization sent a chill down her spine, though she didn't know why. It was just a door, wasn't it? Probably a storage compartment or something for the plumbing. Nothing out of the ordinary.

But if it was nothing out of the ordinary, then why did her heart rate accelerate? She knelt there, staring at the faint outline, her fingers brushing over it again as if to prove it was real. It was small - just enough for a child to walk through without ducking.

The edges of her mind filled with half-formed theories she didn't want to entertain. What if this door had been here all along, hidden under layers of wallpaper? What if that kid had found it first? Stop it, she told herself firmly, shaking her head. The story didn't matter. What mattered was that it was here, and now so was she.

Her hand drifted to her pocket, fingers brushing against the cool metal of the key she'd shoved in earlier. She frowned, her chest tightening. What if it works?

The thought made her hesitate. Opening the door felt like crossing a line she couldn't uncross, but curiosity stirred inside her anyway. That curiosity - it was something she'd always had, even when it got her in trouble. Bucky used to tease her about it all the time, it was something he loved about her.

And so, before she even knew it, she pressed the key into the faint hole at its center. Her heart thudded in her chest as she twisted. It caught for a moment, then turned smoothly, like it had been waiting for her all along.

The faintest click echoed in the silence. It worked.

She didn't exactly know what to expect. Her mind cycled through possibilities, each one more ridiculous than the last: a family of rats scurrying around like they paid rent, a skeleton tucked away like some dark secret, or maybe just bricks sealing off the passage altogether. A tunnel? That wasn't even on her radar.

But there it was. A tunnel, impossibly strange and bathed in shifting lights - purple, blue, magenta - all swirling together like something out of a dream. She blinked hard, then again, just to make sure her exhausted brain wasn't playing tricks on her. The colors didn't fade. They seemed to ripple against the walls, smooth and alive in a way that made her skin prickle.

She looked over her shoulder at the living room. It sat there, ordinary and lifeless, the same sad space it had been since she'd arrived one week ago. She glanced back at the tunnel. The air inside seemed thicker somehow, shimmering faintly like heat rising off asphalt. She squinted, trying to see where it led, but the light bent strangely, making it impossible to tell.

She should've closed it. She knew she should've closed it. Slam the door shut, throw the key into the nearest lake, and maybe burn the whole house down for good measure. Whatever was inside that tunnel didn't belong in any version of the real world she understood.

But then again, what part of her life ever had?

Her chest tightened as she thought of her friends - if she could even call them that anymore. A witch, a talking raccoon, the god of thunder, and a billionaire with a good heart. Her world had been full of strange, impossible things for years. Magic wasn't just real; she'd seen it firsthand. Aliens existed. Some Guardians of the Galaxy also existed. People flew and moved mountains and bent reality to their will.

Strange doesn't always mean bad, she thought, swallowing hard.

That reasoning didn't stop her palms from sweating as she reached out, fingers brushing the edges of the opening. Crawling into it felt ridiculous and dangerous all at once, but the longer she stood there, the more her curiosity pulled at her - fuck it. It surely couldn't be worse that the grief she was feeling.

She winced as she leaned forward, testing the space, her shoulders brushing the sides. It was tighter than she liked, but manageable if she stayed low. The tunnel smelled faintly of damp stone and something else she couldn't place.

She couldn't stop now, not with how close she felt to... something. What, she didn't know. Crawling forward, her knees and palms scraped against the hard surface, her muscles starting to ache. The tunnel felt endless, and the air was so still it made her ears ring. She had no idea how far she'd gone, and when she tried to glance over her shoulder, the tight space made it impossible to look back.

She groaned under her breath, cursing herself for crawling into a place she didn't understand, but just as the panic started to creep in, her head bumped into something solid.

Her hand shot forward, feeling the cool, grainy surface of wood. She froze, her heart thundering in her chest as her fingers fumbled until they found the faint outline of a handle. For a moment, she just knelt there. Did she really want to know what was on the other side? Probably not. But she was here now, so what else could she do?

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open.

The smell hit her first - warm and familiar, like cinnamon. She blinked, stunned, as she crawled out and stood, brushing off her pants. For a second, all she could do was stare.

She was in the living room again.

But it wasn't her living room. At least, not the one she remembered crawling away from. The place looked new, like it belonged in a magazine. The furniture wasn't covered in old sheets anymore, the floors gleamed like it had just been polished, and the walls (painted in colors she loved but never had the energy to pick out herself) looked clean and bright. The TV was on, playing a cooking show she didn't recognize, and the whole room felt warm, like someone had been living there all along.

Her chest tightened as she took it all in. This had to be some kind of dream, right? It was too perfect. She rubbed her arm hard, trying to snap herself out of it, but nothing changed. She pinched her skin next, just to be sure. Still nothing.

She drifted toward the kitchen, her legs shaky beneath her. And that's when she saw him.

Her breath caught in her throat.

It was Bucky.

His back was to her, but she'd know him anywhere, in any shape or form or lifetime. His shoulders were broad, his hair tied back in a low bun like he used to wear it when they stayed in together. He was at the stove, cooking something - probably whatever smelled so good - and he was humming. She could hear him clearly, the tune instantly recognizable: It's Been a Long, Long Time. Her hands clutched at the doorframe as her heart hammered in her chest.

It didn't make sense.

It couldn't make sense.

But he was there. Breathing and alive.

She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but no sound came out. She just stared, watching him as he moved like he belonged there, like he hadn't been gone for months. Like nothing had ever happened.

He spoke without turning around, his voice warm and familiar, the sound of it wrapping around her like a hug. "Took you long enough to find me, doll."

Her legs almost gave out.

"Bucky?" She whispered, barely able to get the word out.

He chuckled softly, turning to face her. "Who else?"

Her heart lurched in her chest - then stopped entirely.

Because when he turned, it wasn't his warm blue eyes staring back at her.

It was two shiny black buttons.

She squeezed her eyes shut, her breathing ragged as her hand flew up to cover her mouth. She didn't know if it was to stop herself from screaming or from throwing up, but the nausea hit her in waves. Those buttons were sewn into his eyes: thick, uneven stitches held them in place, and the skin around them was raw and red, like it hurt just to exist.

Her entire body shook as she backed up a step, then froze when he took one toward her.

"Hey, hey." He murmured softly, his voice like velvet, so familiar it made her chest ache. His hand reached out, brushing against hers. His touch was light, gentle, and for a second she softened.

Her lips trembled as she avoided looking at him, tears pooling under her lashes. This was him, wasn't it? The man she loved. The man she'd lost. The way his fingers slid against her skin, the way he leaned in like he wanted to shield her from the world -  it was all so painfully familiar.

"I know what you must be thinking." He said, his other hand brushing against her chin, tilting her face up toward him. His thumb traced her jaw, soft and deliberate, the way it always had when he wanted to comfort her. "I'm dead, technically. In the other world. Here, now, I'm here, baby. And here I am meant to stay, with you. Open your pretty eyes for me."

Her breath hitched, and she dared to open her eyes again.

And he was there. He looked just the same, apart from the obvious absence of the blue eyes she'd fallen in love with. The messy stubble on his jaw, the faint scar on his cheek, the way his lips curved into the softest smile - it was all him.

"I..." Her voice cracked, and she had to swallow hard before trying again. "How is this possible?"

"Does it matter?" His smile widened, but it didn't reach those dark, empty... well, buttons. "Touch me. Feel me. This is real, I'm real, my love. Doesn't matter how, we can have our second chance."

Her knees felt weak, like her body was fighting against her own disbelief. She wanted to collapse, to wake up from this nightmare, but instead, she found herself reaching for his face. Her hand trembled as she hovered just short of his cheek, afraid to touch him, afraid to feel if he was real.

He leaned into her hand anyway, guiding her fingers against his skin. It was warm. Soft. Real.

"It's okay." He whispered, his voice dripping with reassurance. "I know it's weird, I know it's painful, but you'll get used to it if you wish to stay. With me, forever. As we planned, do you remember?"

Her throat felt tight, like she was swallowing glass. "I... I do, but your eyes-"

He cut her off gently, his hand moving to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Shh. Don't worry about that. You don't have to think about anything now. You're home, sweetheart. That's all that matters."

He took her hand in his, brushing his lips softly against her knuckles the way he always had. It was such a simple gesture, yet her lower lip trembled despite herself. She was stupid, she knew that. Stupid for letting her guard down, for leaning toward him like this. It was fucked up - completely, utterly fucked up.

Four months. Four agonizing months of endless crying, of sleepless nights consumed by thoughts of him. She'd wanted him back so desperately that she'd prayed to gods she didn't even believe in, hoping for one of them - if they existed - to bring him home. They didn't need him, she did. And when that didn't work, she had begged Death herself, tempting fate one reckless night after another, daring her to take her too.

But no one answered.

And yet, here he was.

It wasn't her Bucky, not really. She knew that. Deep down, she knew. But it was something. And the broken, yearning part of her - by far the loudest - shoved aside every concern, every alarm, and clung to the scraps he offered. She followed him as he led her to the table, where all her favorite foods waited, the centerpiece being those cinnamon rolls only he could make.

Because despite everything, Bucky Barnes had always been an incredible cook.

"I've been waiting for you for a long time." He said, his voice warm but edged with something she couldn't quite place. "In this... other world." He paused, letting the words hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "I took my time to make everything perfect for you. For us. So we could keep living our life the way we always wanted. Before... you know. The mission."

She swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to the table. Her heart clenched painfully at the memory, but she forced herself to look at him. And his plate, which was empty.

Not his eyes - she couldn't. Those black, unblinking buttons unsettled her in a way she couldn't articulate. Instead, her focus drifted to his lips, to the familiar curve of his smile, trying to anchor herself to the parts of him that still felt like him.

"How... how does this even work?" She asked, her voice unsteady. "Is this a parallel universe? Doctor Strange said something about a multiverse once but I didn’t pay attention.”

He tilted his head slightly, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "No, not a multiverse. But call it a parallel universe if that's what makes sense to you." He said, his tone light, like they were discussing the weather. Then his smile widened, his expression softening. "I call it the Other World. I'm the Other Bucky."

Her chest tightened at his words. Other Bucky? The phrase sounded so wrong. She bit her lip, her hands curling into fists in her lap as she tried to process it.

"You're... not my Bucky?" She whispered, her voice trembling.

“Not quite.” His smile faltered for a fraction of a second before he leaned closer, reaching out to take her hand in his again. His touch was so familiar, so gentle, it sent a shiver down her spine. "I'm still your Bucky, sweetheart." He said, his voice dripping with sincerity. "Maybe not the one you lost. But I love you just the same. Isn't that enough?"

Her throat felt tight, and tears blurred her vision. She wanted to scream that no, it wasn't enough. That nothing could ever replace the Bucky she'd lost, the one she'd loved more than anything in the world. But when she looked at him again, at the way he held her hand so tenderly, the way he spoke with so much conviction, the fight drained out of her.

"Do you... do you remember our first Christmas together?" She asked, her voice hesitant, almost fragile. Her thumb traced the back of his hand, an old habit she had when she felt nervous. "When I told you I wanted a Christmas tree, and you got one by the end of the day?"

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, the sound so achingly familiar that it sent a pang through her chest. "How could I forget? You were so determined to make it perfect. I stole it, by the way. From Tony's personal collection at the Compound."

She smiled. "I know. Tony told me a couple of days later."

"Yeah, well..." He raised an eyebrow with a sly grin. "He caught me hauling it out and almost blasted me. I think he only let me keep it because he knew it was for you. Though he made me suffer for weeks after."

She couldn't help the small, genuine smile that crept onto her face. It sounded so much like the man she'd loved - his mischief, his stubbornness. "That sounds exactly like something he would do." She said softly.

Encouraged, she pushed forward, testing him. "And... do you remember when you brought Alpine home? You got her that little blanket. Do you remember which one?"

His button eyes seemed to glint with something she couldn't name, if that was even possible, but the smile on his lips didn't waver. "The Captain America one." He said without hesitation. "She hated it at first, but you swore it made her look cozy. I remember everything, doll. Every little detail."

She felt her throat tighten again, nodding. He was telling the truth.

"You're testing me, aren't you?" He asked, tilting his head, his voice carrying no edge of offense, only understanding.

"I... yes. I'm sorry." She whispered, dropping her gaze.

"No, baby, it's perfectly fine." He reached across the table, his fingers brushing hers lightly, sandwiching her hand between both of his. She flinched, but only slightly. His touch still felt so warm, so human. "I understand. I'd do the same if I were in your shoes."

She risked a glance at him, and his smile softened, becoming something almost unbearably tender. "I don't blame you for doubting this." He said, his voice low. "For doubting me. You've been through hell. You've lost more than anyone should ever have to. And yet, here you are, strong enough to sit across from me and look for the truth."

Her hand trembled slightly beneath his. "Bucky-"

"I'm not just saying this because I want you to believe me." He interrupted gently. "I'm saying this because I need you and I love you. I loved you then, I love you now, and I'll keep loving you, no matter what world we're in of what choice you made. No matter what it takes. I didn't wait all this time just to lose you again."

His words hit her like a blow to the chest, raw and piercing. Tears stung her eyes, and for a moment, she let herself lean into the illusion, into the hope that maybe this was real, that maybe she'd been given another chance in that weird way. Maybe that was the answer from the Gods she was waiting for.

"Bucky." She whispered again, her voice breaking. "I've missed you so much."

"I know, doll." He said, leaning closer, pressing his forehead against hers. "But I'm here now. That's all that matters. You don't have to carry the pain anymore. Let me do that for you."

Tears pricked her eyes again as he talked, his voice like a balm she hadn't realized she'd missed so much. He told her how long he'd been waiting for her, how lonely he'd been in this perfect world he claimed to have created just for her. His words wrapped around her like a warm blanket, even as a sliver of unease twisted deep in her chest.

She could only squeeze his hand tighter. She sat with him, eating as he poured her wine, laughing softly at his jokes even though she barely heard them. It was so easy to fall into this rhythm, to let herself believe him.

But that small, stubborn voice in the back of her mind was screaming at her. Begging her. Pleading with her to see. To crawl back through that door to the real world, to grieve, to heal, to move on. Because whatever this was, it wasn't normal. It wasn't right. It was dark and twisted, and somewhere deep inside, she knew that.

But then he smiled at her again.

And just like that, she smiled back.

[cartoonsinthemorning]

So I absolutely love all your thoughts and ideas about a fem Stan, but what about a fem Ford? I feel like that could also be a really fun dynamic. Stan trying to be the man and protecting fem!Ford from bullies, but is really just entirely wrapped around Fords fingers. And then! The jealousy could come into play in other ways! Like Stan starts dating someone and Ford is pissed about it so she leaves a lipstick mark on his collar or subtly sprays him with perfumes so that Stans partner thinks he was cheating and leaves him. And the obsessionnn. Imagine her stealing Stan’s shirts and sleeping in them just because they smell like him. Or staring at him while he sleeps and sketching him in her personal diary (though let’s be real, canon Ford did that too lol.) Anyways, I also like the idea of all of these pent up feeling finally coming out and her just riding Stan until he can’t think straight and her being like “that’s right, you’ll never have it this good with anyone else.” Idk. Thoughts?

Hello new friend! Thank you for enjoying my thoughts and ideas about fem!Stan, and for now kickstarting a conversation about fem!Ford too! I have a lot of thoughts. So many, in fact, that before moving to the shippy part, I need to focus on Ford alone, first. What would differ, was he born a girl. Quite a lot. I’m gonna be blunt. All things Ford had been oppressed by, in canon, would hit ten times harder, if he was a girl. Take academic ambitions, for example: I’m not saying that fem!Ford’s extraordinary intelligence wouldn’t had earned her praise. I just doubt she would had been encouraged to pursue higher education, and convert her studies into a career. A jewish WOMAN into STEM? Back then? I don’t think any of her teachers suggested she shoots for a prestigious university- why give her and her family unrealistic expectations? Ma and Pa would had been happy to have a smart, studious daughter, but I’m sure the idea to invest into her studies would had been up to debate, if not shot down immediately: to spend that type of money, when her likely future job would be either high school science teacher, or museum curator- would had been a pointless waste, to someone like Filbrick Pines.

To be honest, I think teen fem!Ford would had rather been encouraged, by her parents, to attend professional classes instead, something like a typewriting course- in order to find a stable secretary job, for example, after high school. Can you imagine, someone with Ford’s potential, being told “Well honey, at least you can put those extra fingers to a practical use, if you learn to type very fast”? Can you imagine how UTTERLY humiliated fem!Ford must had felt, all the time? Just like Ford, I think she’d be perfectly aware what a genius she is, and how drastically she’s been underestimated. And yet, she’d have to take in consideration the evidence: it doesn’t matter how great her mind is. They are right, there’s no place that would want her. The only person that would root for her, ever the dreamer, would be Stanley. He’d just take her hands, wipe her tears away, and promise, with naive, granitic certainty, that he will find a way to help her. His plans would range from completely unrealistic and cartoonish (“Ya could invent a machine that turns me into a brainiac, and once Pa send me to that tech uni ya like, I’ll sneak you in the classes, and you’ll take my place!”), to painfully sweet, albeit still unrealistic (“If Pa doesn’t want to support ya, I’ll take two or three jobs and pay for your studies and stuff myself!”). Stanley would look at his sister with bright eyes, and a huge optimistic grin, stating that she’s the smartest gal that ever existed, so there’s NO WAY she won’t become some posh scientist and prove everyone in Glass Shard Beach wrong. Every time Stanley would pull his stupid, naive, adoring Protector Knight acts, fem!Ford would feel so angry at herself for blushing, and for her heart-rate speeding up. Because it’s so intoxicating to be believed in, but she can’t afford to fall for Stanley’s overly-hopeful view of her condition, and she can’t afford to fall for him either. And this brings me to yet another point I wanted to make: self-esteem, and societal expectations.

If canon Ford’s hands got him bullied, and classified as freak- for a girl, they would had also been a mark of ugliness and considered remarkably un-feminine. I bet F., as a little girl, suffered a lot for having more in common with the grotesque antagonistic creatures of her favorite books, rather than the princess. And I’m sure EVERYONE around her didn’t fail to make her notice too. In subtle ways, sometimes. Like her mom suggesting she gets ear-rings, for her birthday, rather than bracelets, because it would be best not to concentrate more attention on those, right? Even if teen fem!Ford would act aloof, as if she didn’t care anymore, she’d be so self conscious about her large palms and extra fingers- so unfeminine and gross- she’d fantasize about chopping them off quite often. If Stanley hadn’t happily held her hand throughout their childhood, and “made fun” of how tiny her hands look in his large ones, as teenagers, maybe she would have, in a fit of self-hate. Thing is, fem!Ford would hold grudges and set secret standards in her head. It’s not like she thinks she’d never be able to get a boyfriend, despite her hands: she doesn’t look horrible, she’d be pretty, even, if she cared for her appearance like her moms begs her to do- but F. wouldn’t be able to suppress the burning conviction that “No other man but Stanley deserves me”. Other men may want her despite her hands, but Stanley was there since the beginning, telling her her hands make her more special than any other girl, like she was magical, like she belong in the fairy tales book she used to read aloud to him. What a stab to the heart, then, that she can’t have him. Not only because they are siblings, but because, just like you said, Stanley would date someone else. Carla, and some other stupid bitch that F. would need to get rid of, because they don’t deserve Stanley like she does neither! I love all the strategies you listed, to “mark her territory” and push other girls away!! I love toxic, jealous girlies!! I don’t condone Ford’s yanderism, but fem!Ford has my blessing. She can be a creep, as a treat. As for the part you mentioned, about fem!Ford snapping and riding Stan- YES I also agree, AND I’d like to add to it. In this AU, Stanley isn’t a misogynist in the classic sense: he doesn’t consider his sister an inferior at all. But… he would not be immune to absorbing the Madonna-whore complex:Girls like Carla- he can fool around with, because they are that kind of girls. Promiscuous, slutty- bad girls. But his sister is different. She’s so virtuous, so smart- his pure, innocent little sister. Stanley would NEVER lay a finger on her. Yes, he may admit to himself he is in love with her, which is also horrible, but at least he would never, ever sexualize her. Cue Stanley playing dumb, or finding excuses to weasel away, whenever fem!Ford flirted with him, or even made clear advances- during the entire length of their teenage years. Until fem!Ford just. Decided she couldn’t take it anymore, stripped naked, slipped into Stan’s bed, and grinded and kissed his neck until he caved, lmao. I have even more thoughts, but it’s getting late, here. I must cut the yapping short, for now. Please, feel free to come chat again, and throw more ideas of your own at me! Thank you for this one, MMMMWAH, baci baci!

[sweetkpopmusings]

miserable (you & me) | h. hyunjin <3

a/n: i have had these blurbs in my drafts FOREVER. "miserable (you & me)" is a song i've had on repeat since it dropped. i'm also a sucker for angst, so please enjoy these self-indulgent posts (they all have happy endings, i promise!) there will be one for each member, so stay tuned <3 pics not mine~

content: angst, happy ending | wc: 1k | warnings: none really! | pairing: hyunjin x gn!reader | requests:open

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

난 가망이 없는 미래에 손을 뻗어 날 부었네 / “i stretched out my hand towards a hopeless future and poured myself out”

of course it would be raining right now. the day’s weather had been normal, a smattering of clouds above and an overcast glow hinting that the weather might take a turn for the worse, but nothing was set in stone. that turned out to be true in a more literal sense, hyunjin realized, while watching people mill about on the street below with freshly opened umbrellas. he scoffed. what did you think would happen? what did you think would change?

the answer was nothing. but i had no choice.

you and hyunjin met up for your usual weekend get-together, returning to a favorite drink spot of yours after a few weekends of schedules keeping you apart. he had missed you so dearly, something that became achingly clear when his whole body lit up from seeing your face peek through the entrance. you noticed the buzz in his body when he greeted you, a sweet laugh escaping your lips. hyunjin’s heart melted at the sound, collapsing even more into endearment when you said, “i missed you a ton, too.”

a moderate number of people took up the tables and seats in the building, so there was a comfortable hum of casual conversation surrounding you. hyunjin, as always, was so closely tuned into the sound of your voice, he would’ve believed you if you said the place was completely empty. it was clichéd for sure, but he was enraptured by every single thing you said. he loved listening to all your thoughts, stories, jokes, anecdotes; whatever you were willing to share with hyunjin, he’d accept with open and grateful hands. you both laughed as you finished telling him an embarrassing story your friend shared with you the other day, and, so you could take a sip of your drink, you asked hyunjin, “how are you?”

without skipping a beat, hyunjin answered, “i’ve liked you for the longest time.”

seeing as that was quite the unexpected answer to your question, you froze. your brain buffered, face showing barely any expression, except maybe shock or confusion. hyunjin, perhaps realizing what just occurred, reacted with wide eyes and frantic apologies. if his confession hadn’t stopped you so sharply in your tracks, the endless refrain of i’m so sorry! i don’t know why i did that. i’m so stupid! would have drowned out the words he spoke so naturally. you didn’t have time to process, but you tried to protest against hyunjin’s incessant apologies. this, it seemed, was fruitless.

hyunjin, with shaking legs and fumbling hands, gathered his things. 

“hyunjin, what’re you–”

“i should go, y/n,” he responded quickly, too quickly for him to mean it.

your heart broke at the way his voice cracked when he said your name, “no, just stay for a minute. please, i–”

his chest tightened when please fell from your lips, but he couldn’t bear the idea of you begging him to stay, only to tell him you didn’t feel the same. yes, it was immature, and, sure, it was probably selfish. yet all hyunjin could think to do was leave. so he did, his goodbye all staggered breaths and darting eyes.

you turned in your chair, barely catching his gaze as he raced to who knows where, “hyunjin?”

his eyes caught yours, and he ripped them away before he lost his foolish resolve. he hoped he offered you a soft smile, something to say i’m sorry for this. i just want you to be happy, and i guess this is me trying to make sure you stay that way. the adrenaline rush meant he couldn’t feel his face, though. he had no way of knowing what he looked like when he looked back at you. 

hyunjin’s whole trip home consisted of pleas for his legs to move faster. if his steps hit the ground hard enough, he could ignore all the scolding voices inside his head until he was safe in his room. if he were honest with himself, he was outrunning the look of shock on your face, and the way your voice fell when you asked him to stay. hyunjin, as he caught his breath in his room, realized that running away from you meant he ended up in front of his window, facing a future of heartbreak. a sardonic laugh broke free from his lips. maybe if you did it the right way, at the right moment, you’d be looking at them instead. maybe you’d be thinking of something other than angsty plotlines for the strangers passing by on the street below. 

“or maybe i could be hurt much worse,” he whispered to himself. 

that was the last sound that shared space with hyunjin in the room. he sat, mind racing and leg bouncing, completely silent. until someone knocked on the door.

hyunjin shuffled to the entryway, instinctively opening it at a familiar knock, only coming to when he saw you standing before him. of course, no matter how hard he tried, his body would always end up right in front of you.

ignoring the way his deflated figure twisted your chest up in all the worst ways, you chided, “you know it’s rude to confess to someone and leave immediately after, right? you didn’t give me a chance to respond.”

you huffed as you spoke. hyunjin couldn’t help the endeared smile that graced his face when he watched your frustrated, furrowed brow turn into a cute, unintentional pout. 

he thought, they are more precious to me than they’ll ever know, and he admitted, “you’re right. it was very rude of me. while i may not deserve to hear it after the way i acted, would you mind telling me what you were going to say?”

your shoulders relaxed as the familiar shine in hyunjin’s eyes returned. his beautiful smile came back too, as he watched your face light up with a reply he’d only ever dreamed of before.

“i like you too, hyunjin. i have for the longest time.”as though his hands weren’t shaking from anxiety a mere five minutes before this moment, hyunjin reached out to you, pulling you into his home and into his arms. when you accepted his invitation and melted into his embrace, hyunjin thought, i’ll pour my heart out to them again and again, if it means we’ll always end up right here, together.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[alloftheimaginesblog]

ready (klaus mikaelson)

plot: klaus always knew that one day you'd take him up on his offer.

character: female vampire reader x klaus mikaelson

inspired by something similar he says to caroline

"One day, love, you'll come to me. Might be in two years, might be two hundred but mark my words, you'll realise I was right along. I am the only one who can fulfil your wildest desires and your largest dreams. When you realise that, you'll come knocking on my door and then... well, love, then I'll give you the world."

It had been three and a half years since Klaus Mikaelson had said this to you. Three long years. He'd came into your life as a villain, you were supposed to hate him. He had killed, harmed and tortured so many of your friends (and his sister had tortured you a fair few times) and yet, he was always so delicate and gentle with you. He'd been interested in you pretty much ever since he came to Mystic Falls. You'd hated him... or at least, you tried.

He had gotten under your skin all of those years ago. He'd saved you too many times to count. He had shown you kindness and compassion, had recognised you for who you were; Klaus had seen you. You'd gotten to see a glimpse of the human side to him, not the scary big bad wolf, you'd started to see him. And when he left, with an invite extended your way, it took everything in you to say no.

Klaus hadn't stepped foot in Mystic Falls since he left and yet, every few months or so, he would write to you. Seldom did you respond but you enjoyed reading about his travels. Each time he wrote, he would send photos of the new place he was visiting usually with a list of reasons as to why you'd love it there with drawings he'd done and every single time he wrote, he attached a plane ticket to whatever destination with your name on it. You never used them, instead they gathered dust in a drawer which was full of his old letters. Klaus also always wrote exactly where he was staying at the end of the letter so you knew exactly how to get to him. Periodically, you'd go through and read some of them. They always smelled like him and had the same send off each time.

'Unequivocally yours, Klaus'

You knew that if you needed him, he would be there immediately. He had promised you as such. And the one time you called for help when Caroline got bit by a werewolf, Klaus couldn't be there in person but he sent Elijah with a few vials of his blood (extras for any future emergencies). He would do anything for you and all he wanted was the chance to show you as such.

So when this month's letter arrived with details of his new adventure complete with a plane ticket to Italy, you decided to take the chance you'd regretted not taking three and a half years prior. Your friends were oddly supportive which surprised you but Bonnie had told you she wanted you to be happy and if he's what made you happy then so be it. Damon wasn't impressed but he rarely ever was. Stefan urged you to your happy ending. Caroline approved, she'd seen the way Klaus would've done anything for you so even though she didn't like him, she knew that he was the real deal. Elena was supportive, she'd gone for the 'bad guy' in Damon so she understood the inner conflict and told you that it was okay to let yourself be happy.

So, you packed a bag and headed to Italy.

Getting there was the easy bit; the hard bit was finding the courage to knock on the front door. Your heart hammered in your chest as you stood on the grounds of what you could only describe as a small castle. It was beautiful, with glorious gardens and fragrant flowers. You swallowed hard before taking a breath, this is what you came for, and you knocked three times.

After a few seconds, you could hear someone's voice approaching. Klaus.

"-I didn't ask you to go to such lengths, brother, though I have to say I do appreciate it-"

He opened the door and his expression turned from one of mild annoyance to complete shock.

"Elijah, more important matters have emerged, I'll speak to you later." He hung up, pocketing his phone quickly. He looked good. The Italian sun suited him, turning his hair a shade blonder and making his blue eyes pop, "(y/n)..." A slow, wide smile spread onto his face.

You swallowed hard, "Hi, Klaus."

He stepped aside, silently inviting you into his castle, and with a small smile you breezed past him. He closed the door and led you through to a grand room with various couches and paintings. You looked around incredulously, "This place... it's incredible."

Klaus smiled, "I told you that you'd like this one."

You looked at him and felt nerves bubble in your stomach. You'd came all this way and now... you didn't know what to do. Klaus eyed you curiously, trying to gauge how you were feeling, "Do you need something?" Oh, how he hoped that you were here for him but he had to be sure.

You shook your head, finding words too hard to find, and instead looked back to the paintings, "These are beautiful, did you do these?"

Klaus appeared at your side, making you jump slightly, "Sorry, love," he smirked. He was so close to you, so near that you could smell his cologne. Your heart raced. His hand reached out past you to touch the painting, "I painted all of these, yes. This one is my favourite."

"The colours are lovely," you nodded.

Klaus smiled, quickly vanishing and then returning to your side, "Here, look in the mirror and then look at the painting."

You frowned at him but complied regardless of your confusion. He handed you a small hand mirror which you looked into and then at the painting, "I don't get it," you said to which he urged you to look again and then you realised, "my eyes."

Klaus grinned, "There we go, love," he beamed proudly, "my favourite colours and shades to use. They crop up a lot in my paintings. Go, look," he encouraged you forwards, "take a look and you'll see how often you feature in my paintings."

For a moment, you walked around the room, soaking in the subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) hints of your eye colour in every single one of his paintings. It touched you causing you to feel warm inside and you couldn't understand why. You looked at him. He stood on the other side of the room watching you with awe filled eyes, "But why?" You asked softly with tears filling your eyes, "Why me?"

In an instant, he was in front of you, chest touching yours, with his eyes locked with yours, "Oh, love," he whispered, hand reaching out to graze your cheek softly, "It's always been you."

You looked up at him, "You asked me if I needed something earlier." Klaus's brow furrowed and his hand stilled - fear; fear that you weren't here for him, fear that you needed something and then you'd disappear again. "I do need something, Klaus."

"Anything."

"I want... I need you." Your admission was quiet but he heard you loud and clear, "For years, I've regretted saying no to your offer to come with you. I want to live, Klaus. I want to be free. I want to be happy and that means letting myself be happy with... you."

"Me?" Klaus asked.

You nodded as your own hand found its way to rest on his chest, "I'm ready to fall in love with you, Klaus. I just hope I'm not too late."

He grinned, wider than you'd ever seen him smile, "You're right on time, love," he said before his lips crashed to yours. And for the first time ever, you let yourself give in.

[julietcpulet]

Thoughts on Vax in C3 114

“Do not mistake me. I long for our life.”

Now this is from someone who’s still new to CR and getting into the gameplay vs. the show. I loved this though because for all that Keyleth feels he’s choosing the Matron over her, here he makes it clear that yes, he’s making a choice to continue serving the Matron but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love Keyleth any less and if there was a space where they could have a life, he would have it with her. It’s heartbreaking but needed to be said and part of why we love Vax so much, his commitment, self-sacrifice and honor. He’s not giving up on the promise he made to the Matron but also not giving up on the love he has for Keyleth. You can make a choice that separates you from someone you love and Vax did that several times so that the ones he loves could thrive, it’s what makes him so honorable, why we like his character so much and want him to have a happy ending but ironically it may be why he’s deprived of that very thing because he gave up his happiness for that of others. It doesn’t mean though that he doesn’t see that future and wish for it with Keyleth.

I’m still holding out that CR might come through and give these two a happier end but it’s up to their players. With so many fans who love them and have watched them suffer, along with CR, I feel it would be justified to let Vax come back in some way and he and Keyleth go on to live the rest of their immortality together, even off-game so the players can retire their characters. Bring them back for cameos like the others, let us see glimpses of their happiness but I think letting them finally have a break from the grief would be more than earned after all the time spent going back and forth on their ending.

[dissapointu]

Hey can I ask for how arcane characters would celebrate their s/o's birthday. My birthday is coming tomorrow (same day when Act 3 is released and I'm not ready 😭)

Happy (early) birthday!, Mine is coming up on Sunday! I hope you like this annon- my requests are filled to the brim so sorry if this took a bit long for me to get to-

Jinx

Jinx goes all out with chaotic creativity. She’d make you a wild, explosive “birthday surprise” (don’t worry, the explosions are just colorful fireworks this time). The celebration would be an adventure—she’d set up a scavenger hunt across Zaun, leading to a hideout decorated with glowing lights, mismatched balloons, and her unique artwork. The night would end with a heartfelt (but chaotic) gift she made herself, reflecting how much you mean to her.

Vi

Vi keeps it simple but meaningful. She’d spend the entire day with you, taking you to your favorite spots in Zaun (or Piltover if you’re feeling adventurous). Expect her to show up with a small, thoughtful gift—maybe a charm or bracelet symbolizing her commitment to you. She’d throw in a surprise, like a home-cooked meal or sparring lessons where you always “win.”

Sevika

Sevika would take you to one of the classier underground bars in Zaun, ensuring the atmosphere was just right. She’d have the bartender make your favorite drink and possibly even toast to you in front of everyone. Her gift would be something practical but meaningful, like a custom-made piece of armor or a knife engraved with your name. She wouldn’t say much, but her actions would scream, You’re everything to me.

Silco

Silco would celebrate your birthday with understated elegance. He’d arrange a private dinner in his office, with candles casting a soft glow over the room. His gift would likely be something rare and meaningful—perhaps an artifact with a story or a promise of future security. He’d also take time to express his feelings, which is rare for him, making the moment even more special.

Vander

Vander would keep it warm and heartfelt. He’d organize a gathering at The Last Drop with your closest friends, ensuring there’s good food, drinks, and laughter all around. He’d give you a gift that resonates deeply, like a hand-carved trinket or something symbolic of the family you’ve built together. He’d make sure the day felt safe and full of love.

Ekko

Ekko would use his inventive mind to create a birthday you’d never forget. He’d set up the Firelights’ hideout with glowing murals and lanterns, creating a magical atmosphere. His gift would be something handmade, like a small invention or a piece of art. The night would be filled with music, laughter, and his infectious energy, all focused on celebrating you.

Jayce

Jayce would celebrate with grandeur. He’d book a beautiful venue or take you to a fancy restaurant in Piltover. He’d make sure everything was perfect, from your favorite dishes to a heartfelt toast about how amazing you are. His gift would likely be something extravagant, like a custom piece of jewelry or a groundbreaking invention dedicated to you.

Viktor

Viktor would celebrate your birthday with quiet, thoughtful gestures. He’d invite you to his lab, where he’d surprise you with a small, meaningful invention tailored to your interests. He’d also take the time to express his appreciation for you, likely in the form of a handwritten letter. The day would end with the two of you sharing a quiet moment, away from the world.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn would plan an elegant birthday celebration. She’d take you to a picturesque part of Piltover, where you’d enjoy a private picnic or a fine dining experience. Her gift would be something sentimental, like a beautifully framed photo of the two of you or a token from one of your shared adventures.

Mel Medarda

Mel would make your birthday a masterpiece. She’d commission a stunning piece of art in your honor and host a luxurious gathering with Piltovan elite. Her gift would be thoughtful and extravagant, like a handcrafted piece of jewelry or a beautiful outfit tailored just for you. She’d spend the entire evening making sure you felt like royalty.

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa would celebrate your birthday with strength and style. She’d organize a feast worthy of a warrior, complete with toasts and a bold declaration of her affection for you. Her gift would be something practical and meaningful—perhaps a weapon or armor, designed with your needs in mind. She’d make sure you knew your worth in her eyes.

Maddie Nolen

Maddie would celebrate with a warm and personal touch. She’d bake you a delicious cake and organize a cozy get-together with close friends and family. Her gift would be something heartfelt, like a scrapbook of your memories together or a thoughtful keepsake. She’d make the day feel safe, special, and full of love.

Lest

Lest would celebrate with a mix of humor and sincerity. She’d tease you about getting older but then surprise you with a heartfelt gift, like a handcrafted piece of jewelry or an item she noticed you’d been wanting. The celebration would be low-key, filled with laughter and quiet moments of affection, showing how much she cherishes you.

I hope this adds to your excitement for your birthday! Have an amazing day filled with love, joy, and perhaps some Arcane watching!

[hanniejji]

birthdays and burnt pancakes

— hoshina soshiro x gn!reader

— notes: and it's a comeback! thank fuck for a consistent job schedule oh my god. coming back to writing with an 8-12 hours job is a risky take since rest is a luxury itself, but im gonna give it my very best! happy birthday to my husband i love him so much wtf | [masterlist]

words: 715 | warnings: suggestive but no nasty.

“y'know, i always thought one of the best things to wake up to is you cuddled up to me in one of my shirts.”

“oh my god,” your hand tightened their hold around the handle of the pan, the other retreating its grip on the spatula in favor of clutching into a fist at your chest from fright.

“you scared the fuck out of me,” you hissed and glared pointedly at the smug man.

soshiro, ever the sly man, remains hunched behind the kitchen island, chin propped on his palm with his watchful gaze looking over your busy form with a grin. if you weren't so caught up in the way his sudden appearance took you by surprise, you would've spent some time admiring how untroubled he seemed to be at the moment, so unlike his stiff and composed self on duty.

relaxation, to someone with soshiro's occupation, is luxury itself.

“what can i say?” he hums, “the view is too good for me not to say so out loud.”

“oh shush it,” you turn around to face the frying pan with a grumble, scooping and flipping the pancake.

you hear him suppress his laughter before he shuffles around the kitchen island to stand behind you. calloused and firm hands rest upon either side of your hips, the familiar touch never failing to bring goosebumps along your spine. more so at the warmth of his breath on the skin of your nape.

“you should go back to bed, i'll finish this up in a moment.”

“but i miss you.”

you can hear the pout in his voice. what a whiny man.

“we have the day to ourselves, love,” you turn your head to place a quick peck on the corner of his lips. “i just want to bring my birthday boy his breakfast in bed and then we can go about your day however you want us to spend it, okay?”

“oh? what if i have a different breakfast in mind, hm?” he hums against your ear, fingers now rising up and under your(his) shirt to feel your skin, “one that is currently right in the palm of my hands?”

“you're insatiable and it hasn't even been hours through the morning.”

he snickers at the deadpan tone of your voice, resting his chin on your shoulder to watch you pour the batter in the pan to make another batch, wordlessly complying to your earlier request with a fond look in his eyes.

such a domestic activity and it's driving him insane with all the possibilities of a future spending each and every morning like this with you—ending each and every night with you.

oh god, he's really all in with you, isn't he?

“i really do love the sight of you making breakfast for the both of us early in the morning,” he hums contentedly, the smile on his face obvious from the tone of his voice. “makes me want to marry the life out of you.”

the mention of such commitment escaping his lips so casually brought a flurry of warmth to your cheeks and a funny feeling in your stomach. you know hoshina soshiro well enough to know that he wouldn't spew such things if he doesn't mean them in the slightest. perhaps he says it as a way to seal a promise to you without directly addressing the matter. in any case, it will be a topic for a different day, when the both of you are ready to tackle that stage in your relationship. you do nothing to deny or oppose his statement.

“although,” he drags out a playful tone, “nothing will beat the sight of your disheveled hair sprawled across your pillow, dazed look on your face from lust with your lips parted while we–”

“how are you this horny so early in the morning?” you abruptly elbowed his torso in a futile attempt to save yourself from embarrassment and further teasing.

“also, stop bothering me while i'm cooking!”

“i was merely stating a fact!” he jested with a chime of giggles, nuzzling his face into your hair and wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer to his chest.

“i can't help it when you're being this adorable first thing in the morning!”

“i'm going to feed you burnt pancakes.”

— © 2024 do not copy and repost my works!

[zenithangelic]

Overwatch cuddle headcannons plz (characters of your choice bc I couldn't decide :0 )

Overwatch cuddle headcanons:

Ashe, Baptiste, Bastion, Cassidy, Kiriko, Mercy, Moira, Pharah, Ramattra, Reaper, Widowmaker

Ashe

She’s not someone who openly seeks cuddles, but once she’s settled in, Ashe is surprisingly tender. She likes to wrap her arms around your waist while lying in bed, her head resting on your chest

Despite her tough exterior, her affection is genuine. She might tease you with playful remarks while cuddling but would secretly love the closeness

Ashe enjoys quiet moments, and B.O.B. will respectfully give you privacy, standing guard as you share your intimate time

Baptiste

Baptiste radiates warmth, both physically and emotionally. His hugs are enveloping, and he often rubs circles on your back while you cuddle

He likes to make you laugh, even during intimate moments. Expect tickles and soft kisses on your forehead or nose

Baptiste is very mindful of your emotions. If you’re upset, he’ll hold you close and hum softly in his deep, soothing voice until you feel better

Bastion

Cuddling Bastion isn’t conventional, but it’s heartwarming how he tries to mimic human affection. He’ll position themselves so you can lean on him comfortably

Ganymede often joins in, chirping happily while perched on your shoulder as Bastion lets out happy, low-pitched beeps

Bastion has a way of making you feel safe, positioning his sturdy frame like a shield around you when you rest

Cassidy

Cassidy is a relaxed and confident cuddler. He loves lounging on the couch with you in his arms, one hand casually stroking your hair

While cuddling, he might share amusing stories from his time in Deadlock or Overwatch, his drawl soothing you into relaxation

Sometimes, he’ll playfully place his cowboy hat on you mid-cuddle, chuckling at how it large it is on you

Kiriko

Kiriko is the kind of cuddler who’ll wiggle her way into your arms with a sly grin. She loves making you smile before settling down for quiet moments

She often wears cozy hoodies or soft fabrics during cuddles, making it feel extra comforting when she hugs you

If you’re feeling low, she’ll hold you close and tell you stories about kitsune spirits and their wisdom, her voice gentle and soothing

Mercy

Angela’s cuddles are all about making you feel loved and cared for. She’ll pull you into her lap and stroke your hair, humming softly

After a long day, she loves falling asleep beside you, her head on your shoulder as she holds your hand

Mercy cherishes quiet moments before sleep, whispering sweet reassurances and promises for the future

Moira

Moira doesn’t initially seem like a cuddler, but when she does, it’s surprisingly intense. She prefers quiet, dimly lit settings, with you lying against her chest or in her arms

She’ll rarely admit it, but she finds peace in your presence and enjoys the grounding effect of holding you close

She might read or work on research while holding you, occasionally explaining her latest findings to you in a soft, focused tone

Pharah

Pharah’s cuddles are secure and grounding. She’ll wrap you in her strong arms, holding you like you’re the most precious thing in her world

She loves early-morning cuddles, watching the sunrise together while you rest your head against her shoulder

Pharah isn’t overly verbal about her feelings, but the way she holds you speaks volumes. You’ll feel her steady heartbeat against you, a silent reminder that she'll always be there for you

Ramattra

Despite his metallic exterior, Ramattra has an incredibly gentle presence. He carefully adjusts his limbs to make sure you’re comfortable while leaning on him

Cuddling with him often leads to discussions about life, humanity, and purpose. He values your thoughts and cherishes the bond it brings

Ramattra shows his care through actions, like shielding you from discomfort or adjusting the environment to suit your preferences during your time together

Reaper

Gabriel doesn’t openly admit he likes cuddling, but once you’re close, he clings to you like you’re his anchor. His touch is firm but full of unspoken emotion

He prefers cuddling at night when the world feels quieter, his masked voice rumbling softly as he reassures you of your safety

His presence is protective, and though he might not say much, his actions—like wrapping his cloak around you—speak louder than words

Widowmaker

Amélie’s skin is cool to the touch, but her embrace has a softness that contrasts with her aloof demeanour. She cradles you gently, almost as if afraid to break you

She treasures silent moments, preferring to sit in stillness with you in her arms, finding solace in your heartbeat

If your hair is long enough, she will absent-mindedly start to braid it whilst holding you close

♡If you liked this fic, please consider buying me a coffee! Ko-fi ♡

[darlingdaisyfarm]

I was someone who hated Billford once upon a time but after reading your fics with Ford, Bill and the reader, it low-key awoke something within me lol. I like how you kept Bill in his actual form and not have him be directly involved and instead have him just oversee everything or have him sometimes be involved in it (like with the tendrils). Granted now I can only tolerate this ship if reader is involved in it but still the fics you wrote for the dynamic were and still are great and I hope you write more for it in the future ❤️

oh, this is such a sweet message to receive, thank you for sharing this with me! ♡ the fact that my fics made you start to see billford in a new light, even if it’s just in this specific context, feels so special! I love writing Bill as his true eldritch self. (still practicing tho) and adding Ford x reader here is such a strange, but interesting dynamic to explore, and i’m so happy it resonated with you!

thank you for trusting me enough to give this ship a chance through my writing and thank you for your kindness and feedback, that makes me want to keep going ꨄ︎ i promise there’s more on the way, i’m always thinking about these three ‹𝟹

literally me rn im always so emotional lmao

[tabitha-martin]

Tabitha knew better than anyone that bad things come in threes.

She learned that lesson in the span of a year when she was only eight years old. Her mom died. Her father started drinking. CPS came and she ended up in foster care. There the bad things were strikes and it only took three to be out. She spent the next decade bouncing around from home to home, striking out, until she inevitably aged out of the system. It wasn’t all bad, though.There were pockets of good. Learning to play guitar from her cooler, older foster brother. Night’s in the back of her friend’s pickups looking up at the stars and talking about all the things they’d do when they left their small town lives. Competing and winning pageants that banked her money for her future. Learning to ride horses from a foster sister. Getting so good she managed a scholarship to Cambridge where she really did leave her small town life behind. Starting university was a regression to the means, where good and bad things seemed to ebb and flow cyclically. Life was fluid and fun. Tabitha found her own family, ones she chose and who had chosen her back and promised to keep her. She no longer felt the pressing weight of feeling like the other shoe was going to drop. That all the bad things were ready to avalanche down upon her happiness. Until him. Loving him had been years of bad trios weighing her down. Pressing so hard that by the time she graduated her heart had been shattered into a million, irreparable pieces. It’s been nearly four years since he handed her that last letter, never to be seen again. Until now. Tabitha was on her way to a meeting in the heart of the city she had come to call home. London. Hopping off the tube and walking to her building on autopilot when she felt a familiar prickle at the back of her neck. Eyes on her that burned through to her soul and picked apart every ugly piece of her, never failing to remind her how truly trivial and worthless her life was. How he made her life worth something. How getting and keeping his attention was the only way to quantify her value.

And there he was. Sitting opposite his wife just outside a cafe only three blocks from her office but he wasn’t looking at her. No, he stared at Tabitha just over his wife’s shoulder. She caught his gaze for the briefest of seconds before her heart started to race. She was getting dizzy. Her stomach was in her throat. She turned away as fast as possible without breaking her neck and nearly ran across the street and the rest of the way to work.

What were they doing here? Did they live in London now? Why were they so close to her office? Did he know where she worked? Was this all on purpose or just a crazy coincidence? Tabitha’s mind reeled the entire ride up the lift to her floor, unable to even remember what her presentation was about to be about. All she could think as the lift doors chimed open that if this was the first bad thing that was going to happen to her, the next two were going to be really, really fucking bad.

[asirensrage]

Title: One More Step Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Rating: Explicit Pairing: Izana x Unnamed/Undescribed Female OC Word count: 2072 Warnings: Dark!fic. Violence. Abuse. Threats. Gaslighting. Suicide attempt. Suicidal thoughts. Mention of "being shared". Seriously gaslighting. Implied future infantilization. Not a happy ending. Unbeta’d. *warnings are not exhaustive* Summary: There is only so far that you can corner an animal before it lashes out. Including her. Prompt: "Even if you got rid of me, you'd miss me. Admit it, you'd miss me."

Notes: based off of the prompt found here by @seaside-writings. Takes place in the future where Izana is controlling Toman (with Manila!Mikey). This was a lot of fun to write and I've enjoyed the reactions I've gotten so far, which has mainly been shock and horror lol. I hope you enjoy it.

**HEED THE WARNINGS**

She’s straddling his chest, knife poised on the base of his throat as her knees keep his arms pinned. His wide violet eyes meet hers and what pisses her off the most is the complete lack of fear she sees in them. She feels like she’s been running a marathon, the end finally in reach if she can just take one more step. That’s all she needs. One more step. 

She doesn't know how it got to this point. 

She can look back, regret bringing a sharp clarity to actions that she was blinded to before it was too late. Before he held her by the throat, forced her to face everything that he was and that he offered and refused to let go. She had been bordered by his men, one way or another. Closed off from anything that could reach out to pull her back out of the open water where he lay waiting to devour. 

She can see every step that led her into his trap, even the ones that were taken in haste because she was forced from behind. The man under her held her softly, sweetly and kissed her deep enough that she could taste the blood on his tongue. Her revulsion made him laugh, made him all the more determined that she remain chained to his side. Every part of her was broken apart, piece after piece, and she has been trying to glue herself back into place. Back into the woman she was before she ever crossed paths with Izana. 

He stares at her patiently, not even trying to fight. As if he knows it’s inevitable. 

It is inevitable. 

There is only so far that you can corner an animal before it lashes out and women are the more deadly of the species. 

“I thought you were going to kill me,” he says lightly, eyes never leaving hers. His gaze strips her bare. It always has. He lured her with promises and idealizations of a home, with the threat of revenge against those who have wronged her. 

“I want to see the life leave your eyes myself,” she says, her voice barely more than a whisper with her panting. 

“Even if you got rid of me, you’d miss me. Admit it. You’d miss me.” He stares as if waiting for the answer he knows she’ll give. Not anymore. She refuses. To admit to missing him means that she would miss the way he cradled her to him, the way he held her throat in his hand and threatened to kill her, to throw her to the wolves. To miss him would be to admit that she liked everything he had done for her, to her, and the way he’d allow select few access to her cunt while he fucked them. He was almost always the one fucking. Always the one in control. 

It would be admitting that the pieces she was putting herself back together with were in his image. Not hers. 

She presses the knife a little harder and he doesn’t even flinch. “Never.”

“Liar.” 

He moves. Her weight isn’t enough to stop him, despite her efforts. The knife goes flying as she’s forced onto her back, an inversion of seconds ago. Her feet kick out, arms scratching at his until he uses his hold against her neck to lift her head just enough to slam it back down onto the ground. It makes her dazed. Enough that she stops struggling for a moment as her senses realign. 

“Admit it.” He orders again. “Tell your king the truth.” 

“Not my ki–” her voice is cut off with the pressure of his hand tightening. His gaze hardens at the response. 

“Stop lying.” He slams her head down again, harder this time and her vision goes black for a second before the pain blossoms. It makes her stomach roll but if she throws up now, she’ll choke until he decides she deserves to breathe. If he decides. 

Tears build up in her eyes, a response to the pain. The pressure on her throat releases enough that she can gasp in the air she desperately needs. 

He strokes her cheek gently as she coughs, tears falling out of the corners of her eyes. “You make things so hard on yourself,” he says softly. As if he hadn’t just nearly killed her. He brushes hair out of her eyes. 

“Iz-Iza-” she coughs. His grip tightens again in warning. She closes her eyes, willing to face death for what she’s done. She should have been faster. Why did she hesitate? After everything he’s done, she would have been doing the world a favour. 

“Try again.”

“Si–” his grip tightens and she chokes for a second, coughing once she’s granted air again. “-y king,” she gasps more than says it. A feeble attempt to keep his violence at bay. She’s seen enough of it. Felt enough. 

His grip loosens, back to the softness he imitates. “How long must we play this game? How long until it finally sinks in that you and I are intertwined?” She knows what he’s not saying. She would never be separated from him. He had dug himself into her bones, leaving the remnants of the girl she was into the thing he’s formed. 

Until there’s nothing left, is what she wants to say but she can’t. The words lodge themselves in her throat. Tears slip down the sides of her face as she stares up at the man who calls himself a king. He’s beautiful, ethereal with the casual violence he carries. 

He stares at her a moment longer, the corner of his lips twitching before he nods, seemingly satisfied at her inability to argue. She wants to. She does. She just can’t seem to pull the words out of her chest, to breathe life into a promise that she’ll succeed next time. A promise she’s made repeatedly and never fulfilled. 

She feels…tired. Emotionally wrought and wrung out. There’s a slight ringing in her ears that she can almost ignore. Her gaze slips from his face, staring at the art piece on the wall that he bought her after catching her staring at it too long. He hung it in a place of honour, front and centre as if to remind her that no matter what they’ve done, what he’s done, he’s taken care of her. Isn’t that what’s important? 

His fingers tighten on her chin before he turns her so that her eyes meet his again. He kisses his teeth lightly, another admonishment at her choices. She watches his gaze drift over her face. “You need to stop hurting yourself,” he says almost gently. It sounds like he actually cares, as if she’s only fallen and he hasn’t tried her kill her. Quid pro quo.

“It’s terrible, isn’t it?” he says in the same tone. “That you never learn, do you? No matter how many lessons I teach, you stay as stubborn as a child.” He leans back slightly, hips pressing closer against hers as he pulls her slightly closer so they remain connected. “Is that what you are? A child?” He stares as if waiting for a response she can barely think of giving. She tries to shake her head but the motion makes her stomach roll and it feels as if he’s finally knocked something loose in it. She probably needs a hospital. 

“Is that how I need to treat you?” 

“N-no,” she croaks out. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“I-I’m s-sorry,” she forces out. She has to apologize. There’s no choice. If she doesn’t, he won’t kill her, but he’ll force her into another role that she knows will be worse than being a woman at his side. She can only imagine the way his men's faces will light up in amusement if he tells them to treat her as a child. They like humiliation too much when it’s not theirs. 

“Your words are worthless to me,” he tells me. “But I can be merciful. As long as you held the knife at my throat, you could never take that final step, could you?” 

She swallows the lump growing in her throat. No. Something held her back and she hates every part of herself for it. 

“No,” he answers for her. “Like I said, you’d miss me. Miss this.” He yanks her closer, moving her ass to rest on his knees, to keep her hips pressed against his. A parody of a mating press. One she’s been forced into before even if it never took. They’re consistent, at least, in ensuring she’s protected from that. 

Her gaze drifts again. She doesn't mean it but she can’t stay focused. Her head hurts and her throat feels scrubbed raw from his hold. She blinks and it feels like it takes longer than ever before she’s forced back to look at Izana. Will he mourn her if she dies here? Will he regret everything he’s done to her or will he only regret that it wasn’t on his terms? That’s how she should go. While she still has the ability to. She should wait until she’s left alone again and throw herself away, a final act of defiance in refusal to give him the satisfaction of choosing her death. It should be a choice she gets to make. Unless she hesitates like she did with a knife at his throat. Always unable to make that last move. 

He bends forward to brush his lips against hers. It’s soft, nearly tender and a complete contrast to his behaviour. She could lose herself in it, in the illusion he offers every time. It’s always so tempting to. It somehow feels so much more poignant after the things he does. She wants to soothe him, to make him offer this softness more and more until she’s drowning in it. Even if he’s the one pulling her under. 

“Izana,” she breathes into his mouth. 

He hums, smiling slightly at the submission. “Such a pretty thing like this, aren’t you?” He brushes her hair back. “You always are.” 

“My...my head hurts,” she whimpers. 

“You need to be more careful,” he says. “Such a clumsy thing, aren’t you?” He sighs before getting up, rocking back on his heels and standing. “You need me, even if you’re not willing to say it aloud. We both know it.” He offers his hand to her. 

She stares at it for a long moment, trying to will her body to work the way it’s supposed to, the way he expects it to. She’s been buried in his expectations, slowly suffocating under their weight. Can you be buried and broken apart? She thinks so. She feels like she is. The thing that emerges from the rubble is nothing she recognizes but he looks at her in satisfaction that makes part of her preen. It makes her sick.

She doesn’t know where she gets the strength, the courage, to shove her foot into his knee instead of taking his hand. He’s broken her into pieces, reforming her into what he wants, but the core of it is still her. She is still the woman she once was, even if she’s not the same. 

He swears at her, a hiss filled with warning and anger. She scrambles to stand but the concussion he’s left on her makes it difficult. She’s moving too quickly. Her stomach rolls and she crashes into the couch before she catches herself. The balcony lies before her. A beacon of release. A choice she can make. 

She runs.

Her fingers brush the cool glass before an arm reaches around her shoulder. A hand grabs her throat, circling it with an ease of familiarity before she’s sent flying back. Away from the balcony. Away from her chance. Still too slow, even if she didn’t hesitate. 

She slides across the floor, crashing into the wall across from it. The impact is jarring, sight going blank as her head rings until she’s folding over to throw up on the hard floor. Something’s broken. She can feel it in her arm, but she can’t focus. Can’t breathe through the nausea and taste of bile.

Izana walks towards her. She doesn’t have to look to know he’s disappointed. She can feel his anger even if he doesn’t show it. Instead, she hears him sigh. She curls up tighter, apologies worthless even if she tried. 

“A child it is then.” 

tr tag: @mitsuwuyaa @blackfire2013 @bleach-your-panties @reiners-milkbiddies

also: @scythegal and @m-ilkiee Network: @pixelcafe-network

I’m not tagging anyone else lol

[yuri-is-online]

Future Kid AU Cheka has one goal after they manage to avert the apocalypse.

Before going back to his own time, he wants to stare at the Sunset Savanna's councilmen, take off his mask, say that they should thank Leona for him being alive in the future to do that (Cheka doesn't even know if he's exaggerating or not), and then walk backwards into the portal cackling.

Leona!Yutu just sighs and goes after his cousin after a heartfelt goodbye to his parents, but not before giving the councilmen the middle finger-

The way I forgot the word cousin existed and just had Cheka call Yutu his nephew. I'm so smart you guys I promise ;-;

Yeah, Cheka is super laid back but he loves his family enough to stand up and say something.

Yutu has a really tearful goodbye with his parents. He's almost like a clingy cub, he wants some of his father's scent on him before he leaves. Leona grumbles, but he indulges him. You might not understand what he wants but you're happy to kiss his head all the same.

Then he turns to the council and you'd think he was a whole different person lol

[rafayelsbelovedbride]

You're gonna make me cry, Why can't they just be happy together 🥺

But I wouldn't exactly consider the last chapter as a hole in your theory. To truly awaken the sea god, Rafayel needs MC's heart, as shown in both his myths. In the last chapter, he obviously didn't do that. If he did fully awaken the Sea God, Lemuria wouldn't be dead in the future either. He would succeed and restore the Lemuria. That would be the end of his story with MC.

So I think in the last branch, Rafayel just borrowed more power from the Sea God without fully completing the rite. And while he took MC with him to the tome since he needed her help to see the prophecy, I think it was also because he trusted her and their bond to get him into his senses if something went wrong.

So I don't think he intended to disappear to bring out the Sea God. He just wanted to "steal" more power from him. Maybe that's why the sea was so angry taht day. The Sea God still didn't get the heart it was promised.

Oh, I see your point about the mood change. I wonder if keeping his Sea God side suppressed is a struggle for Rafayel. And there are times he fails. Maybe not all of them are as obvious as what happened in the branch, but he's not always strong. He's only that strong when MC is with him and his bond glows. Maybe that's why in the Sea of Golden Sand, the story started with Rafayel somehow cooperating with Amund, but he ended up betraying the Lemuria again with MC.

I'm also really curious about how much he remembers through his reincarnations. But I think it would be better if he remembers everything, since he's the one who always commenting on MC's memory, and he's the one who found witch of the abyss when MC clearly didn't remember him.

I keep seeing people saying MC betrayed Rafayel in the past, but I don't understand??? Where?? When??

MC offered her heart when he asked for it. He was the one who refused to accept.

MC was banished to abyss with no memories and made the potion because she thought he was going to drink it. But he made MC drink.

Even when he erased their bond, she remembered and found him again.

So whyyy??? When was the betrayal?? I'm really asking cause I don't get it, did I miss something? Are we reading the same thing?? I think neither MC nor Rafayel ever betrayed the other??

Also, the same thing with the resentment. Where is the Rafayel resents MC is coming from?? Rafayel's resentment looks more like towards his duty as the sea god and the responsibilities that were put on him from the moment he was born. Not towards MC??? He put up a wall not because he's angry at her but because he knows everything will be against them and maybe if she stays away from him she can be happy??

He wants her to remember him because he loves her, but also he doesn't want her to remember because what if she blames herself, what if she's still willing to die for his behalf. He thinks she must be the one who resent him, so why is she trying to get close, why is she acting so naive?

What is all these slander?????