#authentic brand voice

[strategichannah]

Developing a Consistent Brand Voice Across All Platforms

Consistency is key! 📢 Learn how to create a strong, unified brand voice that resonates across all platforms and builds trust with your audience. #BrandVoice #ContentStrategy

Developing a Consistent Brand Voice Across All Platforms Written By: that Hannah Jones Time to Read: 5 minutes In a world where brands interact with their audience across multiple platforms—from social media to email marketing and website content—it’s essential to maintain a cohesive brand voice. A consistent brand voice not only helps build trust and recognition but also reinforces your…

[shadystranger]

the switch from worry for sam to appealing.. oh he knows how to fuck him up so perfectly tailored for him

[champstorymedia]

Your Brand, Your Voice: Authentic Branding Strategies for Small Business Owners

Introduction In the bustling marketplace of today, establishing a unique identity is crucial for small business owners. "Your Brand, Your Voice: Authentic Branding Strategies for Small Business Owners" serves as a guiding light for entrepreneurs seeking to convey their unique personality and mission. Authentic branding isn’t just a buzzword; it’s a powerful tool that helps businesses resonate…

[ennobletechnologies]

Creating Influential Marketing That Converts: Top 10 Tips

When you create marketing materials, it’s important to consider what will make them influential. After all, the goal of marketing is to influence the behavior of your target audience. But what exactly is influential marketing?So, influential marketing is any marketing that has a significant impact on the behavior of its target audience. For example, an ad campaign that convinces people to switch to a new brand of toothpaste is considered influential.So, how can you create influential marketing that will actually convert? Keep reading for 10 tips that will help you create persuasive and influential marketing materials that will yield results!What Makes Influential Marketing Different?What makes influential marketing different from regular marketing is that it not only captures the attention of your audience and generates leads, but also encourages them to take a definitive action. Whether that’s buying your product, signing up for your newsletter, or donating to your cause – influential marketing can be used to drive conversions.To achieve this, it’s important to understand the psychology behind what drives people to take action. You need to understand the audience’s behavior, values, and motivations. You also need to create content that is tailored specifically toward that audience and is both visually appealing and emotionally resonant.Another key element of influential marketing is the way it is delivered. Whether through email, social media, or pay-per-click advertising, you need to use the right channels to reach your audience. Your content should also be creative and dynamic, as this will help grab their attention and encourage them to take action.Why You Should Use Influential Marketing StrategiesIt is important for marketers to use influential marketing strategies for a number of reasons. Firstly, it gives brands the opportunity to engage with their target audience in a way that increases customer loyalty and trust. This is especially important in an era where many people are wary of traditional forms of marketing and advertising.In addition, using influential marketing strategies can help increase conversions and drive sales. By understanding the values and motivations of their target audience, marketers can create content that is both emotionally resonant and visually appealing. This will help engage the audience and inspire them to take action.Finally, influential marketing strategies can be used to build long-term relationships with customers. By using creative and engaging content that people are likely to share, marketers can create viral campaigns that will reach new potential customers and foster loyalty from existing customers.What Are the Benefits of Influential Marketing?Using influential marketing strategies can provide many benefits for marketers, including:Increased Reach – Influential marketing can help brands build relationships and reach new potential customers. By creating content that is eye-catching and emotionally resonant, brands can tap into the power of influencers to spread the message.Boosted Brand Awareness – Influential marketing helps to increase brand awareness, allowing marketers to reach a wider audience and create a lasting impression. Influential content should have a touch of creativity and originality that makes it stand out from other content.

Do Read: https://ennobletechnologies.com/social-media/creating-influential-marketing-that-converts-top-10-tips/

[saucingitup]

Kraken broadcaster JT Brown shares why Pride is so important to him and why he’ll be celebrating the LGBTQ+ community all month long

June is an exciting month. There’s Stanley Cup final hockey on the TV, the sun is shining down on Seattle, I hit the links on Father’s Day, and it's Pride month—a month dedicated to celebrating the LGBTQ+ community and commemorating the 1969 Stonewall Uprising in Manhattan. In our house, June is a busy month, but nothing gets celebrated harder than Pride.

Earlier this month, I had the honor of playing in the Seattle Pride Classic at the Kraken Community Iceplex. The invitation to share the ice with LGBTQ+ players from all over is an honor I don’t take lightly. Striking up a conversation on the bench between shifts, I turned to the player next to me. “Nice tape job. Canucks fan?” I said, noting the different colors of tape spiraling down the blade. “No, these colors represent one of the queer flags,” they said.

The bad news is I felt like an idiot. The good news is, I’ll always recognize that flag. Trying means stumbling, losing the puck, shooting wide (pick your analogy), but I’ve never been too proud to admit I caused the turnover and apologize. And we both laughed because sometimes falling on your ass is funny.

From ice to asphalt, the Pride celebration continues as my family and I will be at the 50th annual Seattle Pride Parade on June 30. As someone who is known for their flair for flashy game-day suits, it should not come as a surprise that I love an excuse to get dressed up. Throw in good music and free swag and you’ll understand why I don’t miss a pride parade.

And no one does pride quite like Seattle. It’s no wonder the Kraken pull up to the parade every year with a crew so deep I momentarily worry we’re going to hold up the parade. We’re out there flinging Kraken giveaways like someone is keeping score of how many each employee can hand out—I always aim for the high score.

Of course, being an ally isn't just flinging Kraken patches into a crowd or embarrassingly mistaking flag colors for rival team branding. A lot of it is just showing up.

I show up for my queer wife so she knows I support her even if I still don’t understand what “Brat summer” means. I show up for my kids so they know I love their authentic selves no matter what. I show up for my friends so they know they’re safe with me. I show up because there are LGBTQ+ people out there who are being stood up by the ones they love, by policies, by corporations, by strangers.

People always praise me for being an ally, but having been on the receiving end of bigotry, I know how much easier it is to stand on this side. When I fight for BIPOC equality, I am always lifted by the voices and support of the LGBTQ+ community. Every single time, they have supported me in my fight to help end racism in hockey.

They have been incredible teammates to me and so being one to them was never a choice I made, it was just something I did—and will continue to do with whatever platform I’m given. Everyone deserves the safety and support to live their authentic lives. When we lift up those who need us most, we all reap the benefits of a safer and more inclusive space.

This Pride month, I’d like to encourage others to show up—unabashedly loud and proud—for yourself and for others. Have a happy, safe, and fun Pride!

[honeytonedhottie]

fostering and living out confidence⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🧁🍬

CONFIDENCE ANALOGY ;

think of unshakable confidence as a fragrance, there are three layers to fragrance, the base note, mid note and the top note. thats what makes the fragrance stick and creates the scent we love so so much. confidence is similar in that way, its not just a mask or a front, at least not authentic confidence.

SOOO after thinking of this analogy im going to structure todays post like that, just to keep things simple and easy to apply. anyways, lets talk about confidence…💬🎀

BASE NOTE ;

the base of self confidence is self love. period. you can think of a billion other ways to say this but the base will never change. the base of ur self confidence is how much you love yourself. so how do we get a strong base? a strong foundation of self love thats gonna make sure that our self confidence remains intact?

start treating yourself like someone that u care about. treat urself like you would a friend, would you criticize them harshly for every mistake? would you tear them down when they’re struggling? no, you’d encourage them, remind them of their worth, and help them grow. now it’s time to do that for yourself. cuz why are u treating others better than u treat urself?

a really important aspect of self love is FORGIVENESS. forgiving yourself and having compassion for yourself cuz we hold ourselves to such a higher standard then we do others, especially if you're a perfectionist. and that can become really toxic, really quickly.

MID NOTE ;

the mid note of self confidence is trust in yourself. it’s the belief that you can handle whatever life throws your way. it’s knowing that even if you stumble, you’ll figure out how to get back up. its knowing that YOU'LL HAVE UR BACK even if others dont. we can build up our self trust by...

♡ doing what we say we'll do

♡ following thru on promises made to ourselves

♡ practicing self discipline

♡ trust ur gut feeling

♡ say no when u dont want to do something

some words that u can add to ur vocabulary to be more confident and advocate for urself properly is "absolutely not" or simply NO. theres so much power in the word NO so make sure to use it more…💬🎀

♡ honor your feelings and honor your wants + needs

self confidence is the mid note of confidence because without self trust, ur confidence wavers because you’re constantly second guessing your abilities and choices and thats not sustainable at all. you have to know and TRUST that ur that girl. bcuz u are.

TOP NOTE ;

the top note of confidence is how u express yourself. its the top note because thats what radiates outward and its how the world notices u first. self expression is how you own ur individuality, how you voice ur own opinions. how u express urself AUTHENTICALLY. in essence, self-expression is about living boldly and unapologetically as you. because isnt it so freeing to just be who you are? now what are some ways we can cultivate our self expression?

♡ having creative outlets

♡ exploring ur interests

♡ having ur own personal style, signature, brand etc

♡ journalling

GET COMFY IN UR OWN SKIN ; 

i feel like the most confident people are dancers. i feel this way cuz of the way my own confidence SKYROCKETED after i started dancing. i feel like dancing gives u a sense of control over ur own body and its just amazing.

whenever i feel like i need a little boost of confidence or i wanna feel sexy and good in my own skin i DANCE. and i promise that it helps so so much. i dance around in my room in my panties all the time and it’s like therapy. 

embarrassment does NOT exist, stop making urself feel awkward or embarrassed for making mistakes sometimes, learn to laugh and not take everything so seriously.

ALTER EGO CONCEPT ;

an alter ego is a persona you create—someone you embody when you need to channel certain traits, strengths, or energies that you might not fully feel in your everyday self…💬🎀 

using an alter ego is super helpful when it comes to confidence because it helps u to detach from ur insecurities. you temporarily set aside your fears and limitations and adopt the mindset and behaviors of your alter ego.

using alter egos can even help u to access different strengths that u never knew u had because ur removing the limitations that u place on urself. lets talk about how to create an alter ego.

HOW TO CREATE AN ALTER EGO ;

first start off by identifying the traits that u want to have, then give ur alter ego a name and an identity. u can even go as far as to visualize ur alter ego, anchor them with symbols, and practicing embodying them. some examples of people who used the alter ego concept include beyonce with sasha fierce, and kobe bryants black mamba.

[perpl3x]

Late Nights - Logan Howlett / Wolverine

Summary: Logan has phoned you on numerous occasions for a late night hook up. Tonight is no different. Pairing: fwb!reader (afab) x Logan, sub!reader x dom!Logan Words: 5,889 Tags: explicit filth 18+, praising, dirty talk, sex, begging, mentions of alcohol Notes: sorry for the long word count, I got a bit carried away. whoops.

The apartment door pulled open, and a rugged Logan stood before you. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and a shadow of stubble covered his chin, nestled between two sideburns. He was wearing a fitted black t-shirt that clung to his broad shoulders and some well-worn bootcut jeans that had clearly seen better days, frayed at the hems and faded at the knees. His eyes, a piercing shade of navy, seemed to look right through you, carrying both warmth and a hint of mystery.

He glanced down at you, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, revealing a dimple that softened his rugged features. His eyes glinted with a mixture of mischief and warmth, a playful sparkle that seemed to invite you into his world. He gestured for you to step inside with a casual flick of his hand, the movement confident and familiar.

His voice, rough and gravelly like gravel underfoot, held a teasing edge as he drawled, “You gonna stand there all night, bub, or are you gonna come in and keep me company?” The words rolled off his tongue with a lazy charm, the kind that made you feel both welcome and intrigued.

As you stepped inside, you were immediately met by the amalgamation of smoke and worn leather, intertwined with his own natural musk. The air was thick with it, creating an intoxicating and familiar scent that enveloped you like a warm embrace. The aroma of his favorite brand of cigars mingled with the rich, earthy scent of old leather, emanating from the cracked, well-used sofa and the leather jacket draped casually over a chair.

The faint sound of music, now more distinct, filled the room as the vinyl quietly spun on the record player. The charming crackle of static added a nostalgic touch, the slight imperfections of the analog sound giving it a warm, authentic quality. As the melody emerged, you quickly recognized it as Simple Man by Lynyrd Skynyrd.

Your eyes slowly adjusted to the shadows, revealing the rugged charm of the room. The atmosphere was unmistakably Logan's, a blend of nostalgia and understated sophistication. The walls were a collage of eclectic posters, showcasing his love for gritty rock bands and iconic classic films. A large, flat-screen TV dominated one corner, perched on a sturdy, timeworn wooden cabinet that bore the scars of age and use. The cabinet was flanked by a powerful stereo system and a vintage DVD player, each piece meticulously maintained, evidence of Logan's appreciation for quality and craftsmanship. The TV's faint glow was the room's primary source of light, casting flickering shadows that danced along the walls. On a small table nearby, a few records lay scattered, their worn covers hinting at Logan's enduring love for the warm, rich tones of vinyl.

Logan sauntered over to the makeshift bar tucked into the corner of the kitchen, the battered wooden countertop bearing the marks and scars of countless years of use. He reached for a bottle of whiskey from the shelf, its label worn and peeling, and poured himself a generous measure. The amber liquid caught the dim light as it splashed into the glass, reflecting a warm glow. Without a word, he poured a glass for you, the gesture casual but welcoming.

As he did so, you discarded your shoes and coat before settling into the couch, feeling the weight of the day sinking into the cushions along with your body. "I've been thinking about you today," you call out nonchalantly.

Logan's eyes flicked to you over the rim of the glass, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. He took a swig from his glass, the whiskey burning a trail down his throat, leaving a familiar warmth in its wake. A satisfied sigh escaped him, the sound low and gravelly. With a nod, he ambled over to the couch, his footsteps heavy and deliberate, each step resonating with the weight of experience.

He set both drinks down on the coffee table with a practiced ease, the amber liquid glinting softly in the low light. Next to the glasses, an ashtray held a freshly stubbed cigar, its fragrant smoke lingering in the air, adding to the room’s hazy atmosphere.

He sat down beside you, his arm brushing against yours as he settled in. The silence between you was comfortable, filled with the soft crackle of the music playing in the background and the faint hum of the city outside. Logan's hand found its way to your knee, his fingers gently tracing circles, the touch light and teasing, yet grounded in a comforting familiarity.

"Been thinking about me, huh?" he asked, his voice low and husky, the words a seductive rumble against your ear. His breath was warm, a puff of air that sent a shiver down your spine, mingling with the intoxicating scent of whiskey, leather, and cigar smoke that clung to him. The corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement.

You tilt your head back, closing your eyes slightly as the warmth from his breath lingers on your skin, a comforting sensation that sends a gentle shiver through you. A small smile plays on your lips, the corners lifting in a mixture of contentment and affection. Your hand instinctively reaches to cover his on your knee, fingers brushing lightly against his. “Mmm, I might have,” you admit, your voice soft and breathy, almost a whisper. The words are wrapped in a hint of playful intrigue.

As you pull your hand away from his to take a sip of your drink, your gaze lingers on his, the room's dim light casting deep shadows across his rugged features. You lean in closer, the warmth of your breath brushing against his ear, sending a shiver through the space between you. Your arm falls back to its previous place, lightly grazing his side as you whisper, "You know, it's been a long day. I could use a release." Your hand trails up Logan's arm, your fingers dancing along the defined muscles, feeling the subtle strength beneath his shirt. As you pull away, your touch lingers just a moment longer, leaving him with a smoldering, sultry smile.

Logan let out a low, rumbling chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest and sending shivers down your spine. "I think I can help you with that, bubs," he said, his voice heavy with innuendo as his hand snaked its way to the nape of your neck and gently tugged you towards him, fervently kissing your lips.

His tongue sought entry, and as it met yours, it danced with a hunger that mirrored the desire in his eyes. The kiss deepened, his hand sliding down from your neck, to your back, pulling you closer, the heat between you both intensifying. Despite his hands being large and rugged, he somehow managed to touch you like fine china that he didn't want to break, even despite the lust and desperation.

He pulled away, his breathing heavy, the desire in his eyes unmistakable. "You know, I've been thinking about how I'm going to bend you over this couch, your pretty ass in the air, just begging for it," he said, his voice thick with lust. A shiver ran down your spine at the sound of his voice and the feeling of his hands on your body. You nodded, biting your lip in response, the anticipation of his touch making your heart race.

"Would you like that, sweetcheeks?" He asked softly, his hot breath fanning against you neck as he gruffly whispered into your ear, still keeping a firm grip on you as his hands burried into the sides of your hips.

A shiver ran down your spine at the sound of his voice and the feeling of his hands on your body. You nodded, biting your lip in response, the anticipation of his touch making your heart race.

Logan's fingers dug gently into your sides, urging you to verbalize your desire. "Say it for me, bubs. Tell me you want that," he uttered, his voice a sultry rumble that sent shivers down your spine. His breath was hot against your skin, a stark contrast to the cool air in the room. He pulled away slightly to look at you, to drink you all in.

You hesitated for a moment, the words catching in your throat as you looked up into his intense gaze. His eyes, deep and piercing, seemed to hold you captive, the world around you fading into insignificance. "Yes," you finally breathed, your voice dripping with desire. "I need you Logan. I want you to fill me up until I can't even think straight - until I'm nothing but a moaning mess begging for you to let me cum."

Logan's eyes darkened with satisfaction as you gave in to your desires, a satisifed and carnal smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He wasted no time in acting on your words, pushing you back into the cushions of the couch laying you down on your back, his body towering over you as he propped himself on his forearms, the muscles straining as he leaned in. His lips eagerly worked on the skin of your neck, the stubble of his beard scratching your delicate skin in a way that sent shivers of both pleasure and discomfort down your spine. You let out an airy breath, your head falling back against the cushions as his mouth trailed lower, his teeth nipping at your earlobe.

As Logan's lips traced a path down your neck, his words grumbled against your skin. "I'm going to worship every inch of your perfect little body," he growled, his voice thick with lust. The intensity of his touch made you squirm under him, the anticipation of what was to come building within you. You could feel the heat of his body, the solid strength of him, as he loomed over you, his presence commanding and intoxicating.

Instinctively, your body reacted to his touch as you arched your back towards him urging to close the gap between you - needing every inch of your being to physically be connected. His fingers began to work on the buttons of your blouse, his movements slow and deliberate, as if savoring each moment. As the garment fell open, revealing the lacy bra that encased your breasts, he leaned in to nuzzle your cleavage, the scratch of his beard a sensation that mixed both pleasure and discomfort.

Logan continued to lavish attention on you, his large hands cupping your breasts through the lace, his lips tenderly sucking and nipping at the skin of your exposed chest, hot breath causing goosebumps to flare over your skin. "I can't wait to hear you moan for me, bubs," he uttered with the usual gravel in his voice, lust laced in his words. Your eyes fluttered shut, the sensations overwhelming as he continued to worship your body.

As he helped you slip out of the blouse, now unbuttoned and sliding effortlessly from your shoulders, his gaze shifted downward, drinking in the sight of you. His attention lingered on your bare legs that just peaked out of your skirt, his admiration evident in the way his eyes darkened with appreciation. His large hands moved to your thighs, fingers pressing into the soft flesh, a gentle squeeze that sent a thrill coursing through you. The warmth of his touch spread like wildfire, igniting every nerve, as he explored the contours of your skin with an almost reverent focus. His grip was firm yet tender.

"You're so fucking beautiful, bubs," Logan murmured, his voice thick with desire as he leaned in to nip at your inner thigh, his beard grazing against your skin. The mixture of pleasure and discomfort from the stubble had you gasping, your hands gripping the fabric of the couch as you arched into his touch. His capable hands traced higher, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your skirt, the fabric tight against your curves. He pulled it down slowly, his eyes never leaving your body as it was revealed.

As Logan pulled down your skirt with ease, revealing your matching lacy thong, his gaze lingered on the sight of you, his eyes darkening with desire. The lace of the thong hugged your curves, the material sheer enough to offer glimpses of your arousal, the dampness evident against the fabric.

The sight of you, laid out before him, your body flushed and eager, was a sight that turned Logan on immensely. The flush of your cheeks, the way you bit your lip as you squirmed under his touch, the way your breath hitched with each touch, were all sights and sounds that fueled his lust. It was clear that you wanted him just as much.

You began to toy with the hem of Logan's dark t-shirt that hugged his physique, your fingers tracing the fabric as a subtle signal for him to remove it. Logan took the hint quickly, reaching up and sliding it over his head. His muscles flexed in the dim lighting, the shadows accentuating the chiseled contours of his abs and the broad expanse of his chest. The light highlighted the dark body hair that spanned his torso, a rugged trail enticingly leading down to the waistband of his jeans.

Veins stood out on his forearms, their prominence accentuated by the strain as he wrestled with the shirt. His pelvis, with a few veins visible just peeking above the waistband of his jeans, bulged with the effort, adding to the raw, masculine allure of his figure.

You couldn't help but stare, admiration and lust mingling in your gaze. Logan's body was a sight to behold; every muscle was defined and sculpted, each curve and ridge a result of relentless training and perseverance. "Fuck..." is all you could mutter, drinking in his rugged appearance that only fuelled your carnal desire for him.

With a cocky grin, Logan chuckled softly, clearly reveling in his own chiseled, god-like presence. "Do you like what you see, bub? Don't worry darlin', it's all yours." The confidence in his expression was palpable, a mix of pride and self-assuredness that only added to his already commanding aura. His amusement was not just in his smile, but in the way his eyes sparkled with a sense of satisfaction, as if he were fully aware of the effect his imposing physique had on you.

Logan's large hands continued to roam, his fingertips grazing the edge of your thong. He trailed his fingers lower, the pads of his digits pressing against the fabric that covered your clit. His touch was gentle, yet firm, as he began to rub in slow, deliberate circles, feeling the heat emanating from you through the thin material.

"Look at you, bub. You're dripping for me, aren't you? Can't wait for me to fill you up, can you? Aren't you such a good girl for me, hmm? Your pretty pussy all ready for me. That's what you want, isn't it darlin'?"

Logan didn't give you any time to respond as he dove down to you again, he captured your lips in another kiss, his tongue dancing with yours as his fingers continued to tease you. The sensation of his fingers against your clit, combined with the warmth of his kiss, had you moaning into his mouth. Logan loved the sound, his own arousal growing with each moan that escaped you.

His fingers continued to expertly rub against your clit, teasing the sensitive nub as he leaned in. Fervently, he pulled away nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck. With a wicked grin that you couldn't see, he pressed his lips to your neck, sucking gently, leaving behind a trail of wet kisses that sent shivers down your spine. Your lips parted in a silent plea for him to return, your body craving the warmth, the moisture, the intimacy.

"You're so desperate for this cock, aren't you? Beg for it, bub." His head still buried into your neck, you couldn't see the carnal desire that you knew was laced in his expression but you could hear it in his gravelly uttering. "I bet you'd do anything for it, wouldn't you? Tell me how much you need it, and I might just give it to you."

For Logan, there was no greater pleasure than hearing you admit your need for his cock, the raw, visceral desire in your voice. The thought of his thick, member filling you, stretching you wide, your wet, tight walls gripping him with every thrust, sent a jolt of satisfaction through him. He imagined your face flushed and contorted with pleasure, your moans and cries growing more frantic as he pounded into you, your body arching to meet his every thrust, your voice stuttering out his name in a primal cry of ecstasy.

Logan's own arousal was a tangible thing, a throbbing, insistent presence straining against the confines of his jeans. The outline was stark and unmistakable.

Your breath hitched in your throat as Logan's fingers continued to tease your clit, the sensation overwhelming. "Please, Logan, I need your cock. I need you to fill me up, to make me yours. I'll do anything, just please, please fuck me."

The plea for Logan's cock spilled from your lips, the words tumbling out in a desperate, ragged rush. Your voice shook with a raw, unabashed honesty, the vulnerability and need in your tone leaving no doubt as to the depth of your desire for him. You were painfully aware of how pathetic your begging might sound, but in that moment, you were utterly helpless before him. Logan was your undoing, the one who could strip you of all sense of control, reducing you to a quivering, desperate wreck in his presence.

"Is that all you've got, bub? I want to hear you really beg, show me how much you want it. Tell me what you'd do to have this cock inside you." His voice was a low, gravelly rumble, as he continued to torment you with his fingers, the cruel tease driving you mad with lust. He brought his teeth to the tender skin of your neck and gentle nibbled at it.

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and desire. Logan's demand for more left you squirming beneath his touch, your body aching for release. You closed your eyes, biting your lip as you tried to gather your courage. The thought of submitting to him, of groveling, made your core clench with a heady mix of lust and shame.

"I'll do anything, please, I'll worship your cock. I'll bend over and take it deep and hard, let you use me however you want. Just let me have you, Logan, please, I need you."

The words were a raw, unfiltered expression of your desire, a testament to the depths of your need for him. You knew you sounded degrading, but in that moment, it was the only way to express the urgency and intensity of your desire. You were willing to do whatever it took to have him, to finally feel the blissful fullness of his cock inside you.

Logan withdrew his hand, a smug grin on his face as he leaned back, propping himself up on his elbow. He gazed at your flushed, disheveled form, taking a moment to savor the sight of your desperation and need for him. Your eyes, heavy-lidded and sultry, bore into him with a yearning that was both intoxicating and exhilarating.

"You'll let me use you, huh? Just how I want?" His voice was thick with lust as he considered your offer, the image of your eager, submissive body a temptation he found difficult to resist. "Well, bub, if you're offering yourself up like that, I think it's only fair that I take what you're offering."

He pushed himself up from the sofa, his skin was flushed, heat rising in his cheeks as the intensity of the situation and his own desire became apparent. His sinewy muscles seemed to ripple beneath his skin, the light catching on the slight sheen of sweat that had begun to form. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead.

As Logan fumbled with the buckle of his belt, the action slow and deliberate, his broad chest heaved with each breath. The dark, piercing eyes that met yours were fierce and intent, seemingly trying to undress you with their heated gaze. The air between you grew thick with tension, charged with the electricity of desire as he practically eye-fucked you, leaving you squirming in your lingerie on the couch.

Once the buckle was undone, Logan took hold of the belt, beginning to carefully unthread it from the loops of his jeans. With each smooth, deliberate motion, the tension in the room grew. He discarded the belt to the floor, the metal hitting the hardwood with a soft clink.

Taking a momentary break from his task, Logan reached for the glass of whiskey that still sat untouched on the coffee table. He downed the amber liquid in one smooth gulp, his throat working as he swallowed. A satisfied hum escaped him as he licked his lips, the sensation of the whiskey warming his insides. With a heavy hand, he placed the glass back on the table, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Logan's hands moved to the button of his jeans, slowly sliding it through the hole and popping it open. He began to lower his pants, the fabric resisting his movements, bunching around his thighs. As he freed himself from the confines of his jeans, his hand found its way to the bulge in his boxers. His fingers brushed against the hot, rigid length of his cock, rubbing through the fabric in a slow, teasing motion. The sight of him pleasuring himself, even through the barrier of his underwear, was enough to make you squirm on the couch, the need for him growing more insistent with each passing second.

Logan's voice, deep and gravelly, filled the room as he spoke, the teasing lilt in his tone sending shivers down your spine. "Do you want me to show you what you've been thinking about all day, bubs?"

He continued to toy with his cock, the way his fingers moved over the fabric a tantalizing dance that left you aching for more. You could almost feel the heat radiating from him, the thick, veiny length straining against the confines of his boxers, begging for release.

You nodded eagerly, your eyes locked onto his hand as it continued to stroke over his cock. The pulsing, throbbing need between your legs grew more and more unbearable, an insatiable hunger that demanded to be sated. You fought the urge to start pleasuring yourself, knowing full well that Logan enjoyed making you wait, enjoy the anticipation, before finally giving in to your desires.

Logan's smirk deepened, a sly glint in his eyes, his voice a low, husky rumble. "Use your words, darlin'. Let me hear that pretty voice of yours. Put those lips of yours to work."

Logan's teasing continued, his tone alluring as he urged you on. "Come on, you've been such a good girl already. Say 'please'." Instead of simply stroking, he now gripped his erection, the outline of his cock now painfully obvious through the thin fabric of his boxers. The sight of it, combined with Logan's relentless teasing, was enough to push you to the brink of insanity.

Finally, you found your voice, your words shaky and desperate. "Please, Logan, show me what I've been thinking about all day. Please, please, show me your cock."

Logan's lips curved into a satisfied grin, his teeth flashing as he bestowed praise upon you. "Good girl, bubs. I knew you had it in you." He took his time, moving deliberately and teasingly as he slid his boxers down his legs. The fabric caught on his thick, erect member, the sight of it being released, springing free and smacking against his abdomen, was pure torture. Once it was fully free, his cock bobbed, standing proud and upright, the head glistening with precum.

He didn't linger any longer, sliding both his jeans and boxers off of his legs, which had been pooling around his knees. He stood before you, fully and completely naked. His body was a sight to behold. The veins that bulged at his pelvis continued to run down his rigid length.

His large, calloused hands wrapped around his shaft, the grip firm and confident. Logan began to stroke himself, the slow, deliberate motions drawing out the pleasure. As he moved, he made his way back towards the couch, his eyes locked onto yours the entire time. Logan's approach was both eager and gentle, his large hand wrapping around your wrist with a tenderness that belied the raw power and strength he possessed. With surprising ease, he dragged you gently, positioning you so that you leaned over the arm of the couch. Your body followed his lead, naturally conforming to the position he wanted, your ass now raised in the air, presented to him, ready for his taking.

A satisfied hum rumbled in Logan's chest as he took in the view, his hands moving to explore the curves of your ass. His fingers traced the lines of your cheeks, the pads of his digits pressing into the soft flesh, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

Logan's hands continued to roam over your ass, his voice a low growl in your ear as he uttered dirty, filthy words. "You're a good girl, coming over here tonight, begging for my cock. You're just aching for me to take you, aren't you, bub? To fill you up, to claim every inch of you as mine."

Logan's hands squeezed your ass cheeks, his fingers digging into the flesh as he kneaded and massaged you. His touch was firm, possessive, as if he were claiming you through the physical connection. With a slow, deliberate motion, he used his thumbs to slide your underwear to the side, revealing your wetness to him. Two fingers slipped inside, the warmth enveloping them as they slid in with ease. A contented murmur escaped him, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

The sensation of Logan's fingers inside of you, the way they delved deep, was almost too much. You couldn't help the breathy moans and lustful exhales that escaped your lips, your face pressed into the leather seat of the sofa as he pleasured you from behind. Your body arched, your hips rolling back to meet his touch, encouraging him to go deeper, to claim more of you. The way he talked to you, the filthy words that rolled off his tongue, only served to fuel the fire of your desire, making you squirm and writhe against his touch.

Logan's grip on your hip tightened, using it as leverage to push you down into the cushions. As he withdrew his fingers, they were slick with your arousal, the evidence of your need for him. He used that same hand to grip his cock. He spat onto his hand, the warm saliva mixing with your arousal, creating a makeshift lubricant. Logan rubbed the wetness onto his cock, coating it in the mixture before slowly edging the head of his cock against your entrance, the wet tip teasing you, making you whimper in anticipation.

Logan's voice was a low growl, the words dripping with lust and dominance. "Is this what you wanted darlin'? My fat cock fucking into you, huh? Is this what you've been thinking about all day? Have you missed this bubs?"

The question hung in the air, a challenge, a confirmation of what you'd been fantasizing about. Your body trembled, your breath hitching in your throat as you finally found your voice, your words thick and needy.

"Yes, please, Logan. Yes, I've missed this. I need you. I need this. Fuck - I need your cock so bad."

Logan's response was immediate, his hips bucking forward ever so slightly. The head of his cock dipped into your entrance, the slick tip teasing you, making you moan into the couch. Logan's praise was laced with satisfaction, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble. "That's a good girl. You're so eager for me, aren't you, bub? You're just begging to be filled by me, to have every inch of you claimed by my cock. I knew you'd be a good girl, always wanting me, always craving my dick."

Your promise was fulfilled as he bucked his hips forward once more, this time not stopping at the entrance. His cock filled you completely, the sensation of him stretching you, making you gasp and moan into the cushion. Your body gripped the material of the couch, your fingers digging into the fabric as you tried to hold onto something, anything, as Logan claimed you. Your core clenched around him, the wet, slick walls of your pussy adjusting to the size of his cock.

As if sensing your need, Logan's primal instincts took over, his rhythm quickening as he began to fuck into you deeply and with unrelenting force. The head of his cock brushed against your sensitive spot with each thrust, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room. Your body arched to meet his, your hips rolling in sync with his, encouraging him to go deeper, to claim more of you. Your moans grew louder, your body quivering with each thrust, the pleasure building within you, threatening to consume you whole.

Logan's grunts filled the room, the sounds of his satisfaction mingling with your own moans. He used both hands to grip your hip, his fingers digging into the flesh as he sought the perfect angle to hit your sweet spot, to make you writhe and squirm beneath him. "You're such a good girl, bub. Look at you, taking my cock so well."

Your body tensed, your core clenching as Logan's cock continued to thrust into you, the subtle pressure overwhelmingly nice. Your breathing hitched, your voice strained as you managed to utter, "Fuck - L- Logan-"

His voice was a husky growl, his words a promise of what was to come. "Mm, that's it bubs, my name sounds so pretty coming from your lips." His hands moved to your back, the firm grip pushing you down into the couch as he continued to take control, to claim you fully.

Logan's thrusts grew more forceful, each one driving deep into your core, his girthy cock stretching and filling you completely. Your body surrendered to the sensation, your hips arching to meet each powerful stroke. The sound of your moans, breathy and pleading, echoed through the room, mingling with the wet slap of flesh against flesh, the rhythmic symphony of your shared passion.

Logan's face contorted with his own pleasure, his eyes half-lidded as he watched you fall further under his spell. His voice rumbled through the room, a deep growl of satisfaction, "You like that, bub? You like how I own you like this?"

The question sent another wave of pleasure coursing through your body, the heady mix of submission and dominance pushing you closer to the edge. The tension within you coiled tighter, the sweet torment of Logan's edge play threatening to tip you over the brink. You nodded, your body trembling, your nails digging into the couch as you fought to hold onto the last threads of coherence.

"That's my girl," Logan praised. His fingers dug into your hips, gripping you tightly as he continued to thrust, the rhythm of his movements a relentless march towards your climax.

Leaning down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Tell me when you're ready to cum, bub. I wanna hear those pretty little words leave your mouth." His teeth grazed your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine.

Logan's keen senses, honed by his mutation, allowed him to detect the most minute changes in your body, the subtle shift in the pitch of your moans, the heightened surge of oxytocin that coursed through your nervous system. He reveled in these signs, knowing that you were nearing the brink, the culmination of your pleasure. Yet, there was something else he enjoyed even more. He wanted to hear the words spill from your lips, to witness the undoing of your composure, to have you become a blubbering, breathless mess as you confessed your impending climax.

His grip on your hips tightened, and he increased the tempo of his thrusts. The walls of your sex clenched around him, and you could feel the pressure building, the familiar coil of tension that promised release. As your body tensed, the tell-tale signs becoming more pronounced, Logan's eyes gleamed with anticipation. The sight of you, flushed and writhing beneath him, was a sight he could never grow tired of.

Your whispered confession, "I'm… I'm close, Logan. I'm gonna cum…" sent a jolt of pure satisfaction through him. It was like a trigger, igniting the fuse that would lead to the explosion of your pleasure. "That's it, bub," Logan encouraged as he continued to thrust into you, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the room. "You're doing so good. Let it take you. Just a little more, bubs. You're so close. I can feel it."

His hand slid down your body, slipping between your legs to find your swollen clit. With a gentle yet firm touch, he began to rub in circles, adding another layer of stimulation to your already heightened senses.

The combination of his words, his touch, and the sensations of his cock buried deep within you pushed you over the precipice. Your body arched and squirmed beneath him, a cry of pure, unadulterated pleasure escaping your lips. The sound of your ecstasy was accompanied by the soft crinkling of the leather sofa beneath you. Logan continued to stroke your clit, milking every last drop of pleasure from your orgasm, his thrusts slowing as he rode out your climax with you. "Good girl, bub," he praised, his voice laced with satisfaction.

Logan felt his own release drawing near, the rhythm of his thrusts becoming more urgent, his breath hitching in his chest. His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he fought to maintain control, to prolong the agonizingly sweet edge he found himself teetering on.

As Logan felt the telltale signs of his own impending release, he pulled out of you, his cock glistening with your juices. With a growl, he aimed himself at your back, releasing his hot seed in thick ropes onto your skin.

The warmth of his cum cascaded down your spine, the sensation both arousing and exhilarating. Logan's gaze followed the path of his release, his eyes darkening with satisfaction as he watched the evidence of his pleasure. "I've always loved the way you look when you're spent, bub."

Logan's chest heaved as he caught his breath, the afterglow of their passion washing over you both. "I'll go and get a towel for you, bubs," he stated softly. He gave your ass a gentle pat before heading towards the bathroom, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "And I'll run you a nice hot bath. You're going to need it after all that."

Link to the rest of my work!

[iamquiantrelle]

GOLDEN BOY (chapter 2)────── iamquaintrelle

⌗ pairing : trent alexander arnold x black oc

⌗ summary : trent is having a quarter life crisis but will a smart-mouthed girl whip him into shape?

⌗ warnings : 18+ only!! (☁️☔️💕)

⌗taglist: @foreverisntenough, @trentswrld, @trentswhore @cinnaleaf @v6quewrlds @football-and-fanfics @eriks-girl @preetykookie @4ngryssgf @endlessmuse @noturbabe22 @bbgkoo

Tyler was still talking, going on about lighting concepts, but Trent's mind was spinning like he'd just done dizzy penalties.

April fucking Goodplenty.

The girl who'd rinsed him about his accent was apparently some hotshot photographer to the stars. No wonder she wasn't gassed about him being TAA - she probably shot Mbappé in his boxers last week.

"…could really elevate your brand," Tyler was saying. "Show a different side of you, you know? More artistic–"

"I fucked her last night."

Tyler's fork clattered against his plate. "What?"

"Well, almost fucked her." Trent grimaced, remembering. "Got proper mortal on tequila."

"You're taking the piss."

"Swear down." Trent tugged his collar down, revealing the art gallery of hickeys April had left behind. "She's got this mental cat named Pussy–"

"Bruv." Tyler put his head in his hands. "You're telling me you pulled the photographer I've been trying to book for three months? The one who told Nike to fuck off because their concept wasn't 'authentic' enough?"

"…yeah?"

"And you got liquor dick?"

"Oi!" The elderly couple at the next table turned to stare, and Trent lowered his voice. "It weren't just me, she was proper steaming too."

Tyler started laughing, proper belly laughs that had heads turning all over the restaurant. "This is peak. Absolutely peak. The one time your dick decides to go on strike–"

"Listen yeah," Trent cut in, "we can't book her. It'd be weird now."

"Are you mad? This is perfect! She already knows you, innit? Might even give us a better rate–"

"Ty." Trent's voice was serious now. "She proper mugged me off this morning. Slammed the door in my face and everything. Think she'd just take the piss if we tried booking her."

"Or maybe…" Tyler had that look he got when he was plotting something. "Maybe she'd want to finish what you started."

Trent's mind flashed to this morning - April in that silk robe, the way it had gaped open just enough to drive him mental. The absolute violation that would be, her directing him all professional-like while knowing exactly what he looked like in just his boxers.

"Nah." He shook his head. "Find someone else."

"Too late." Tyler's grin was pure evil as he held up his phone. "Already sent the inquiry last week. Got a meeting with her tomorrow."

"You're taking the fucking piss."

"Meeting's at two. Her studio in Shoreditch." Tyler stood up, dropping some notes on the table. "Don't be late."

"I'm not going."

"Yes you are." Tyler's voice had that tone that meant business. "This is exactly what we need for your image right now. Bit of edge, bit of artistry. Show everyone you're more than just the scouse wonderkid."

Trent watched his brother leave, then slumped back in his chair. Fucking hell. Tomorrow was going to be madness.

His phone buzzed - Tyler sending through the studio address. Under it was a message that made his stomach flip:

'She already confirmed btw. Said she's "very interested" in working with you.'

Christ. What had he gotten himself into?

Trent's Range Rover crawled through Shoreditch's narrow streets, his GPS having trouble trying to navigate the one-way system. Warehouse conversions and street art blurred past as his mind wandered to the night before last - to tequila shots and spiced vanilla and yellow-eyed cats named after Bond girls.

"Just round here," Tyler pointed, and Trent pulled up outside a converted factory building. Red brick, massive windows, proper East London trendy.

"Still think this is dead weird," he muttered, killing the engine.

"Stop being a pussy and come on."

The receptionist buzzed them through to a freight lift that looked like something out of a horror film, all exposed metal and dodgy grinding noises. When it finally wheezed to a stop, they stepped out into what had to be April's studio.

And there she was.

Fuck me.

The high-waisted jeans should've been illegal, honestly. Hugging every curve like they were painted on, leading down to these mental heels that had Trent's brain short-circuiting. The cropped jumper showed just enough skin to be professional but still have him thinking very unprofessional thoughts. Her hair was pulled back today, showing off cheekbones that could probably cut glass.

"Tyler," she smiled, all business now. "And… Trent. Nice to see you both."

The way she said his name had him remembering exactly how it sounded when she'd been leaving those marks on his neck. Speaking of which…

"Still sporting those love bites, I see," she smirked, gesturing for them to follow her into what looked like a meeting room. "Rough weekend?"

"Something like that," he managed, trying not to stare at her ass as she walked ahead of them. But fucking hell, those jeans were criminal.

The meeting room was all exposed brick and vintage furniture, mood boards covering one wall. April perched on the edge of the table, crossing those legs like she knew exactly what she was doing to his mental state.

"So," she began, pulling up some images on her laptop. "I've got some concepts I think could work really well. Break away from the usual footballer shoot - no watches, no posing with cars. Something more… raw."

Tyler leaned forward, interested. "Go on."

"I'm thinking black and white, minimal styling. Really strip everything back." She turned her laptop around, showing similar shoots she'd done. "Some torso shots, maybe even full nude–"

"What?" Trent choked out.

"Nothing gratuitous," she continued like he hadn't spoken. "All very tasteful. Think Greek sculpture vibes. Show the athletic form, the power, the vulnerability…"

"Nah," Trent shook his head. "No chance."

"Why not?" Those eyes fixed on him, challenging. "Scared?"

"I'm not scared," he bristled. "Just don't fancy getting my kit off for your camera, do I?"

"Wouldn't be the first time you've stripped for me though, would it?"

Tyler's eyebrows shot up as Trent felt his face heat. "That was different–"

"Was it?" She tilted her head, that infuriating smirk playing at her lips. "Because I seem to remember you being quite… willing."

"We'll think about it," Tyler cut in smoothly, ever the professional. "Maybe start with something less… exposed? Build up to it?"

April shrugged, standing up. "Your call. But I think you're missing an opportunity here. Could be something special."

As they headed for the lift, she called out: "Oh, and Trent? Might want to invest in some turtlenecks. Those marks look proper savage. Almost like you ran into a vampire or something."

"That what you are then? A vampire?"

Her laugh echoed through the studio - an unfiltered belly laugh that had him staring. Head thrown back, eyes crinkled, nothing like her professional photographer persona. Something in his chest did a weird flip.

"You're mental, you know that?" he said, but he was grinning despite himself.

"So I've been told." She winked - actually winked - and disappeared back into her office.

Outside, Tyler was already on his phone, probably lining up their next meeting. "That went well."

"Well?" Trent spluttered. "She wants me naked!"

"Not straight away though. We can build up to it–"

"I'm not getting my dick out for art, Ty!"

"No one said anything about your dick," Tyler grinned. "Unless… you thinking about showing her that too?"

"Shut up."

"Nah but seriously," Tyler pocketed his phone, turning to face him. "Did you see those other shots she showed us? Proper sick. Could really change how people see you."

Trent leaned against his car, thinking about it. The photos had been amazing - athletes looking powerful but vulnerable at the same time. Nothing sleazy about it. But still…

"She's just going to take the piss the whole time."

"Maybe that's what you need though?" Tyler raised an eyebrow. "Someone who doesn't treat you like TAA, Liverpool's golden boy. When was the last time someone actually challenged you properly?"

Never, if he was being honest. Even Sophie had just tried to mold him into what she thought he should be. But April… she seemed dead set on doing the opposite.

"Plus," Tyler added with a smirk, "think you might be into it a bit."

"What?"

"The way she mugs you off. Saw your face when she was giving it the big one about being scared. You proper love it."

"Fuck off," Trent laughed, but his neck felt hot. Was he actually into being challenged like that? The way she'd rinsed him about everything, how she kept him on his toes…

Christ. Maybe he did have a thing for it.

"Just think about it," Tyler said, already walking to the passenger side. "Meeting's in the diary for next week. Wear something nice."

Trent watched his brother disappear inside the car, then looked back up at the studio windows. Through the massive panes of glass, he could just make out April's silhouette, bent over her desk reviewing something.

Those fucking jeans though.

Maybe one more meeting wouldn't hurt.

Liverpool's training ground was freezing, typical January weather making everyone's breath visible in the air. Trent tugged at his high-neck base layer, grateful for the excuse of the cold to cover up April's artwork. Two days later and the marks were still there, like she'd been trying to brand him or something.

"Again!" Slot's voice carried across the pitch. "Press higher, Trent! Control that space!"

He pushed forward, finding that pocket between the defensive line in the practice match. The ball came to his feet like it was on a string - muscle memory from thousands of repetitions. One touch, two touch, whipped cross to Nuñez who buried it in the top corner.

"Better! Take five, lads!"

Trent grabbed his water bottle and phone from his bag, dropping onto one of the benches. His thumb opened Raya automatically - sad behavior really, but he couldn't help himself. Been glued to it since New Year's, swiping through posh girls and influencers without really seeing them.

Until.

"You're fucking joking," he muttered, nearly dropping his phone.

There she was. April Goodplenty, 27, verified profile with that little blue tick. Her first photo was something artistic - all shadows and angles, showing off those cheekbones that could probably slice bread. The next one had her on some beach in Bali, wearing this tiny white bikini that had his throat going dry. Then one of her working, camera in hand, tongue caught between her teeth in concentration.

The bio though: "If your profile's got you in a watch and suit, save us both the time and swipe left xx"

Trent snorted. Course she'd have that energy on here too.

His thumb hovered over her profile. Would she even swipe right on him? Probably saw him as just another job now. Plus there was that whole… liquor dick situation. Total violation that was.

Fuck it.

He swiped right just as Slot's whistle pierced the air.

"Let's go! Set piece drills!"

Back to work then. He jogged back onto the pitch, trying to focus on football instead of wondering if she'd match with him. They ran through corner routines, free kick patterns, all the stuff that should've had his full attention. But his mind kept drifting to spiced vanilla and burgundy nails and that laugh that made his chest do weird things.

"Trent!" Slot's voice snapped him back. "You're dropping too deep again!"

Get it together, lad.

By the time training finished, he was tired. The shower felt biblical, hot water washing away the January chill. He wrapped a towel around his waist and another around his neck to hide the love bites, heading for his locker when his phone lit up with a notification.

New match on Raya.

His heart actually skipped. What was he, twelve?

But there she was - April Goodplenty had swiped right. And she'd already sent a message:

"You get one second chance. Don't fuck it up."

His first thought was "Yes ma'am" but that felt a bit… eager. Instead, he sent back a salute emoji, trying to play it cool while his brain was doing cartwheels.

Right then. Where the fuck do you take a girl who thinks fancy restaurants are dead and probably knows every hipster spot in London?

He opened Google, typing "unique date ideas Liverpool" before deleting it immediately. Nah, that was basic. She'd see right through that.

What about… he thought back to her flat. All those vinyls, the art everywhere. The way her eyes lit up when she was taking the piss out of his accent.

Maybe he did have an idea. Something properly scouse, but make it interesting. Show her his Liverpool, not the sanitized version he usually showed girls like Sophie.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, a grin spreading across his face. Oh yeah. This could work.

Now he just had to not fuck it up.

**********************************************

Two-all against Man United felt like a kick in the teeth. Trent's yellow card was still burning him up - such a soft call from the ref after Rashford went down like he'd been shot. The crowd had lost it, Anfield turning into a cauldron of noise as Man United's number ten rolled around like he was auditioning for the Olympics.

The gaffer had given them the "point's a point" speech in the dressing room, but it didn't help the taste of ash in his mouth. Should've had that game wrapped up in the first half - hit the post twice, had a penalty shout waved away. Then Bruno's equalizer in the 89th minute... violation that.

And now he had to somehow get his head right for this date.

He'd picked Baltic Market - bit different from his usual spots, proper Liverpool but with an edge. Street food stalls, local artists, that indie record shop in the corner that reminded him of April's flat. No fancy tablecloths or sommeliers giving it the big one about wine pairings. Just real Liverpool culture, the kind tourists never got to see.

His phone buzzed - probably Tyler asking about the match. But nah, just his mum sending another article about his yellow card. Christ, did everyone have an opinion these days?

"This better work," he muttered, checking the time again. Seven minutes late. Maybe she'd ghosted. Wouldn't be surprised after that meeting, him acting all precious about getting his kit off–

"Didn't expect you to actually pick somewhere decent."

That voice. He turned and… fuck me.

The Balenciaga jumpsuit was doing criminal things to her figure, and those heels had her almost at his height. Her coat was probably worth more than his entire outfit, but she wore it like it was nothing. Those curls though - bouncing with every movement, making his fingers itch to touch them.

"Rough match?" she asked, and he could've kissed her for not going straight into analysis mode like everyone else after a draw.

"Something like that."

"Good thing I know just the cure." She nodded toward the entrance. "Shall we?"

Inside was buzzing - fairy lights strung across the ceiling, music from some local band floating through the air, the smell of about twelve different cuisines mixing together. April's eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas, taking it all in.

"Now this," she said, "is more like it."

They ended up at this Korean street food stall, April going in on some bulgogi fries while telling him about this shoot she did with some rugby player who kept flexing his abs between takes.

"Real tragic," she laughed, licking sauce off her fingers in a way that had his mind going places it shouldn't. "Like mate, I can see them, you don't need to keep pushing them out. Looked like he was having a fit."

"That what you want me to do then? Get my abs out?"

"Please," she rolled her eyes, but he caught the way her gaze flickered to his torso. "Your ego's big enough already. Plus, after that meeting... seems like you're scared of the camera."

"I'm not scared," he bristled. "Just don't fancy having my arse all over magazines."

"Shame," she smirked. "It's quite a nice arse."

Before he could process that, she was already moving on to the next stall, leaving him standing there like an idiot.

They wandered through the market, April stopping to chat with every artist about their work. She knew her stuff too - passionate about it all. Made him think about those art prints in her flat, how everything there had felt intentional. Not like his place with its designer furniture picked out by some interior decorator.

The record shop owner recognized him, but instead of the usual selfie request, he and April got into this massive debate about vinyl pressings that Trent couldn't follow for shit. But watching her get excited about it, those curls bouncing as she gestured, the way her eyes lit up when she found some rare pressing... it was doing something to his chest, making it feel tight in a way that had nothing to do with the match earlier.

"Trent?"

He blinked, realizing he'd been staring. "What?"

"I said, should we get out of here?"

Outside, the Liverpool air was bitter now. April pulled her coat tighter, those curls whipping in the wind, and Trent had to stuff his hands in his pockets to stop himself from reaching out to touch them.

"Listen," she said suddenly, turning to face him. "Let's cut the chase. I'm a busy woman, you're a busy man... so are we trying to fuck each other or are you pussy?"

Trent nearly choked on air. "I- what?"

"You heard me."

"You slammed a door in my face!" he spluttered. "Like, what are you talking about?"

"Sorry," she shrugged, not looking sorry at all. Those eyes were dancing with mischief again. "I saw you giving me the eyes at our meeting. And you swiped right on Raya, so..."

His brain was short-circuiting. This girl was actually mental. Completely off her head. Saying whatever came to mind like she didn't give a fuck about the consequences. And fuck him if it wasn't the most attractive thing he'd ever seen.

"You're actually mad," he said, but he was grinning.

"Maybe." She stepped closer, close enough that he could smell that spiced vanilla again. Close enough to see the flecks of gold in her eyes, the way her lips curved into that smile that spelled trouble. "But I don't see you running."

No, he definitely wasn't running. Not when she was looking at him like that, like she was deciding exactly how she wanted to ruin him. Not when those curls were right there, begging to be touched. Not when everything about her was a challenge he desperately wanted to accept.

"So?" She raised an eyebrow, and he could see the marks she'd left on his neck reflected in her eyes. "What's it going to be?"

The wind whipped around them, carrying the distant sounds of the city - cars honking, music from the market, someone laughing. But all Trent could focus on was the way April was looking at him, those eyes challenging him like always. Making him feel like more than just TAA, Liverpool's golden boy. Making him feel... real.

Fuck it.

"Your place or mine?"

Her smile turned wicked. "Bold of you to assume I'm that easy."

"You literally just asked if-"

"I know what I asked." She took a step back, and he immediately missed her warmth. "But maybe I just wanted to see what you'd say."

Christ. This girl was going to be the death of him.

"See you at the studio next week, Trent," she called over her shoulder, already walking away. "Try not to think about me too much."

He watched her disappear into the night, those curls bouncing with each step, that jumpsuit doing ungodly things to his mind.

Too late for that, wasn't it? He was already in too deep, and they both knew it.

The worst part? He was starting to think he didn't mind at all.

…………tbd

[tilleternitydouspart]

🏫 Walking Amongst Monsters But I'm Just Here To Learn! 🏫

Starting a new school is never easy, Leaving behind a familiar routine and starting over is nerve wreaking to say the least...Especially if your new school only accepts monsters and creatures.

Your Grandpa (Bless his heart) was a retired teacher from Darkwood Academy who got you the interview for the school, Causing a ruckus amongst staff members who were against the idea of a mere human joining the ranks of elite students.

Between the endless back and forths, You were caught up in the middle, Brought in on the last day of the debate to argue on wither they should let you, A mere human into the school.

Fidgeting with your skull bracelet and taking a deep breath you explained, About being afraid walking home in case someone from your school followed you and did harm to you, The bruises, The black eyes you received and because the person responsible for it had a rich dad who could just throw money at the principal, Having panic attacks in the toilet and staying there until the end of the day because you know they were waiting for you.....

Teardrops were falling onto the ground, You couldn't control it. Silence filled the room as your father and mother rushed towards you, Knocking the guards into the corners of the room and held you in a loving embrace.

Needless to say that a letter arrived soon after, Inviting you to start attending the school.

Back to school shopping was tedious as your Mother and Aunt took you to the school supplies, Commenting on hacks to make it look like you were a studious student she saw online and trying not to cringe at the obviously fake ones. (You hadn't the heart to tell them)

The first day of school always made your heart flutter, Nearly falling out of the bed in excitement, Having a moment of sadness in the shower and finally acceptance as your family sat around the table, Giving you confidence boosting hugs and kisses.

Waving goodbye to your family as you stepped into the taxi, Your mother had to hold your father back as he broke down crying, Wanting to be by your side in order to protect you.

The journey to the school was short but sweet, Arriving at the gates in record time as your taxi driver announced you had arrived. You smiled, Thanking the driver as you gave him a tip, Leaving him shocked as you walked towards the school, Aware of the stares already.

Students already inside stopped their conversations, Watching you walk the halls in pure disbelief as you politely smiled back and gave a wave, Reaching the principal's office as you gave a small knock on the door.

By 9:00 the entire school knew about the new student that was a human and by 10:00 they were captivated by you, Your timid posture, The kindness of your voice when you offered them one of your brand new pencils free of charge.

(By the end of that lesson, Multiple students piled on top of that poor naga, Wanting that pencil for themselves)

Some students were wary of you, Who could trust the authenticity of those rumours until they ran into you in the library, Struggling to reach one of the big books as you stood desperately on your tippy toes causing their hearts to blow up.

As Lunchtime approached, Students were racing to the cafeteria for a chance to sit beside you or to have even a glance. For the first time in a long time, You felt pure happiness in school, Making fast friends and walking to classes, Struggling to contain your laughter.

Once the final bell of the day rang, Your family wasted no time surrounding you, Asking about your day, Offering to help with homework and started to walk you towards the car as the students lingered around the entrance, Watching as you talked to your family, Hugging your younger siblings as the car drove away.

Needless to say, It was just the beginning of an eventful school year.

[prettymfwrites]

Ink & Flannels Pt. 2

»»————> <————««

Here’s part two of Ink and Flannels, with Ellie finally taking Y/N on a date.

Ellie x female reader

Lots of fluff👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

---

Ellie pulled up to Y/N’s apartment, the familiar growl of her old pickup truck echoing in the quiet night. She hopped out, adjusting the sleeves of her flannel as she leaned against the truck, trying to appear casual. She glanced at her reflection in the window, brushing her fingers through her hair. This wasn’t her first date, but something about Y/N made her heart race in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

Y/N stepped out of her building, her coat slung over one arm and a soft smile lighting up her face. Ellie straightened immediately, pushing off the truck.

“Hey,” Ellie greeted, her voice just shy of nervous. “You look…really nice.”

Y/N gave her a quick once-over, noting Ellie’s flannel and the way her fingers twitched slightly at her sides. “You clean up well, Ellie.” She smirked, adding, “Though the flannel is very on-brand.”

Ellie chuckled, opening the passenger door for her. “Hop in. I’ve got a whole night planned. You ready?”

“As long as you don't murder me,” Y/N teased, sliding into the seat.

---

The drive to the theater was filled with easy conversation. Ellie was quick to crack jokes, and Y/N found herself laughing more than she had in a long time. Ellie’s charm wasn’t overbearing—it was comfortable, like slipping into your favorite sweatshirt on a cold day.

By the time they reached the drive-in, Y/N felt like she’d known Ellie forever. Ellie handed her a bag of popcorn she’d picked up on the way, along with a drink.

“Gotta keep it authentic,” Ellie said as she pulled the truck into a spot near the middle.

The screen flickered to life, and a classic black-and-white movie started to play. Y/N raised an eyebrow.

“A classic, huh?”

Ellie smirked, resting her arm along the back of Y/N’s seat. “Figured you might have a thing for old-school romance. Am I wrong?”

Y/N leaned closer, her eyes narrowing playfully. “Maybe. Or maybe you just wanted an excuse to sit close.”

Ellie grinned. “Guilty as charged.”

As the movie played, the two settled into an easy rhythm. Ellie’s arm stayed draped behind Y/N, and at one point, Y/N leaned into her, resting her head on Ellie’s shoulder. They exchanged teasing whispers during the slower parts of the movie, their voices barely above a murmur.

“Do you actually know what’s going on in this film?” Y/N asked, her lips quirking.

“Absolutely not,” Ellie admitted. “But it’s a vibe, right?”

Y/N laughed softly, her breath warm against Ellie’s neck.

---

After the movie ended, Ellie started the truck but didn’t immediately head toward Y/N’s place.

“You’re being suspicious,” Y/N said, crossing her arms but smiling.

Ellie glanced at her, that mischievous spark in her eyes. “You trust me?”

“Should I?”

“Guess you’ll find out.”

Ellie pulled up to her tattoo studio, the lights inside dimmed except for a faint glow in the back. Y/N followed her in, curiosity piqued.

“Ellie, if you brought me here to convince me to get a tattoo…”

Ellie laughed, leading her toward a door at the back. “Not tonight. This is something different.”

She pushed open the door to reveal a room filled with art. Paintings, sketches, and unfinished works covered the walls and tables. The space was chaotic but alive, a perfect reflection of Ellie herself.

Y/N’s eyes widened as she stepped inside, taking it all in. “Ellie…this is incredible.”

Ellie scratched the back of her neck, her ears tinged pink. “Yeah, uh, I paint. When I’m not tattooing, anyway.” She gestured toward a wall with several portraits. “That’s Jesse and Dina. They’re my best friends. And that one—” she pointed to a swirling abstract piece “—is how I felt after eating too much spicy ramen.”

Y/N laughed, walking slowly through the room, her fingers brushing the edges of the frames. “You’re insanely talented. Why don’t you show these off?”

Ellie shrugged. “I dunno. Feels personal, I guess. But…there’s one I wanted to show you.”

She pulled a small canvas from a shelf, holding it out with both hands. Y/N took it carefully, her breath catching. It was a stunning painting of her, every detail lovingly captured. On her shoulder perched a delicate songbird, its feathers vibrant against the soft tones of the background.

“Ellie…” Y/N’s voice wavered, her eyes glassy.

“I started it the day you walked into the shop,” Ellie admitted, her voice quiet. “You said something about wanting a tattoo with meaning, then you spoke about your mom and it kinda…stuck with me.”

Y/N laughed through her tears, shaking her head. “Do you do this for all the girls you ask out?”

Ellie smirked. “How do you think I pull ’em?”

Y/N set the painting down carefully, turning to Ellie with a playful glare. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But it worked, didn’t it?”

Y/N stepped closer, looping her arms around Ellie’s neck. “It did.”

Ellie’s hands rested lightly on Y/N’s waist. “So, uh…how do I get a proper thank you?”

Y/N leaned in, her lips brushing Ellie’s ear as she whispered, “Thank you.”

Ellie shivered, pulling back just enough to look into Y/N’s eyes. “Not good enough.”

Y/N smiled, closing the distance between them. Their lips met in a kiss that was slow but deep, the kind that made the world fade away. Ellie’s hands tightened on Y/N’s waist, pulling her closer as the kiss grew more heated.

Before Y/N knew it, Ellie had lifted her onto the art table, brushes and sketches pushed aside. Y/N tugged Ellie closer by the collar of her flannel, their kisses growing more fervent.

“Ellie,” Y/N murmured against her lips, a teasing lilt in her voice.

“Mm?” Ellie responded, her lips trailing to Y/N’s jawline.

“You’re gonna have to clear your table more often.”

Ellie laughed, her breath warm against Y/N’s skin. “Guess I’ll need a muse to inspire me.”

Y/N grinned, pulling Ellie back into a kiss. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re perfect.”

---

Baby Dina says thank you for reading! 😛

[redroomreflections]

Hotel California | Track 5: Heartbeat Havoc

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, frontwoman of the punk rock band Velvet Rebellion, falls hard for a woman she believes is too good for her. Their intense relationship unfolds in the chaotic world of rock 'n' roll, where they struggle to balance fame, personal demons, and their undeniable passion for each other.

W/c: 6.3k

Chapter 5/12

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Note: it's only up from here

18+ Minors DNI (mature)

Themes: love, fame, sex, drugs

"So, the release went well, but now we need to capitalize on the momentum. What we don't want is for you to disappear after the premiere," You leaned back into your chair, twirling a pen between your fingers as you spoke on the call. Your tone was confident but measured, ensuring there wasn't too much enthusiasm. You knew your client well enough to know this was a serious conversation.

Tanya Lawrence, an early twenties actress who had just starred in a blockbuster film, was on speaker, along with her agent and manager. You were coming up with a game plan to keep her in the spotlight and sustain the momentum—not only to continue promoting the film but to elevate Tanya herself.

Tanya's voice was thoughtful as she replied, “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that. But I don’t want to do the same press rounds everyone else does. I mean, how many times can you sit on a couch and tell the same story?”

You smiled, fully expecting her reluctance. Tanya was always searching for something fresh. It was part of what made her appealing, but also part of the challenge of keeping her relevant without overexposing her.

"I hear you," You said, jotting down a note on your tablet. "The late-night circuit can get a bit tired, but we still need to keep you visible. How about this: we skip the talk shows and go for an exclusive feature with Vogue or Elle? We’ll craft a personal story—something deeper than just promoting the film. We’ll show your evolution from indie darling to blockbuster star. It’s more narrative-driven, more you."

There was a pause, then her manager chimed in, his voice skeptical but intrigued. “How personal are we talking?”

“Not too much," You assured him. "We’re not looking to dig into her private life—just enough to give the audience something to connect with. We’ll focus on her as an actress and philanthropist. Maybe highlight her charity work? The key is controlling the narrative.”

Tanya's voice came through, warmer now. “I love that idea. I’ve been wanting to talk more about the foundation. If we can connect that, it would feel real, not like I’m just selling myself.”

You nodded, already sketching out the potential angles. "Exactly. And we can play it across platforms—get some behind-the-scenes content on social media to drive engagement, maybe even a short Instagram series showing a day in your life. That way, you’re not just doing the standard PR push but building a brand around authenticity.”

The enthusiasm on the other end was palpable now. Tanya's agent was already chiming in with ideas on how to expand the campaign, and her manager was starting to see the vision.

"You’ve always got the best ideas," Tanya said, and you could hear the smile in her voice.

You chuckled. "That’s why you keep me around."

The call wrapped up, and you took a moment to breathe. Another client managed, another fire successfully put out. You were in the zone—this was what you were good at. A notification lit up the screen as you closed your notebook and checked your phone.

"Is Love in the Air? Natasha Romanoff Seen Leaving Concert with New Flame"

Your stomach did a little flip. The photo was grainy and interesting for today’s time, but you knew it was the two of you leaving the concert venue last weekend. It hadn’t taken long for people to start talking, and you weren’t sure how you felt about it all. You tried not to think about the sudden influx of followers you’d gotten or the interest of every possible gossip rag in suddenly taking a deep dive into your life.

As a publicist, you were no stranger to media frenzy, but it was different when you were the story. You’d spent years helping clients navigate this kind of attention, knowing exactly how to spin, deflect, and maintain privacy. But now, as the headlines circled you and Natasha, it felt oddly invasive.

You sighed, locking your phone and rubbing your temples. This wasn’t exactly how you imagined things going with Natasha. A quiet fling, maybe, or just a few months of fun before things inevitably fizzled. But the way her hand had lingered on yours that night, the way she looked at you when she thought no one was watching—something about it felt more... real. And now, the world was catching on.

Focus, y/n, you told yourself, pushing the thought aside. You weren’t going to let this derail your work. Natasha had dealt with the media for years—she could handle it. The question was, could you?

Your office door creaked open, and Monica strolled in, her usual swagger in every step. She leaned casually against the doorframe, crossing her arms with an amused smile.

“You see the headlines?” She asked, eyes twinkling with mischief.

You shot her a look, already knowing where this was headed. “You mean the ones making me sound like some groupie?”

Monica laughed, moving to sit across from you. “Please, Natasha Romanoff’s mystery woman has a much better ring to it. Plus, who says groupies can’t be successful?”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “I didn’t ask for this attention, Mon.”

“You’re dating a rockstar. What did you expect?” she teased before her tone softened. “But for real, how are you feeling about it?”

You hesitated, twirling the pen in your fingers, not quite sure how to put it into words. “It’s... strange. I’ve always kept my private life private, you know? And now I’m on the front page, just because I went on a date.”

Monica nodded, her expression shifting to something more serious. “It’s a lot. But you’re the queen of handling this kind of thing. You’ve dealt with bigger fires. And Natasha... well, she’s used to it.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “Yeah, but this feels different. It’s one thing to be in control of someone else’s narrative, but when it’s you...”

Monica tilted her head, studying you. “You really like her, don’t you?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the question. You hadn’t even allowed yourself to fully consider that yet. Did you? The two of you were just getting to know each other. It wasn’t supposed to be serious. But the way you smiled at the thought of her, the way your stomach fluttered when her name popped up on your phone—it was all too familiar.

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “It’s moving fast.”

“You fucked didn’t you?” Monica began to grin.

Your eyes widened. “Jesus, Monica." You cursed. You looked back to your office door, the one she'd decided to leave open, and then back to her. She folded her arms knowingly and you sighed.

"Maybe?" You responded with a smirk. "Or... several times? I lost count that night."

"Oh my god!" Monica cackled. "I knew it. I'm so proud of you."

"Proud shouldn't be the word used for that," You shook your head. "Oh, and Sam decided to bring Isabella home early the next morning so they met each other much sooner than I expected. She also introduced herself as my girlfriend."

"Ooh, and how did Sam react?" Monica knew your ex-husband just as well as she knew you.

"He was shocked but also not shocked." You begin. "I just hoped it wasn't something that made Natasha question what we have going on. I mean anyone would be threatened to have the ex just casually standing in the living room."

"Nah, the woman is head over heels," Monica assured. "Besides, Sam's a good guy, and he's not a possessive ex. So, back to the importance, was she good?"

You couldn't help but smirk. "Yes, she was very good."

Monica smiled, nodding approvingly. "Good. Well, I'm happy for you. It's been a while since you've had some good sex, and even longer since you've had a good woman."

"Somehow you and my daughter are the same person just in different fonts," You mused at her words. "You have no idea how much Bella asked about her."

"What can I say, we both have good taste," Monica smiled. "Anyway, back to work. I'll let you enjoy your celebrity-adjacent status. It’s interesting really how you’ve managed to stay so lowkey. I mean Sam is famous, your parents are famous…”

You chuckled. "It's a blessing and a curse. You can't blame them for being overprotective though. They just wanted to protect their daughter and granddaughter from the limelight. It's why I stayed off the radar."

Before she could question it further, there was a slight knock at the door. An unassuming man with a delivery hat and a gorgeous bouquet caught your attention.

"Are you, Y/n?" He asked.

"Yes," You replied, a little surprised. You watched as the man set the vase down, signed for the delivery, and thanked him. Monica watched in interest.

"What's that for?" Monica asked.

"I have no idea," You replied, a little puzzled. You plucked the card from the bouquet and unfolded it, curious. As your eyes skimmed the neat handwriting, your heart skipped a beat.

“Just in case you needed a little brightness in your day. My time with you was amazing, being with you makes everything even better. — N”

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips, warmth spreading through your chest. Natasha had a way of being sweet without overdoing it—something that caught you off guard every time.

Monica raised an eyebrow, leaning over to get a glimpse of the card. “Ohhh, so the rockstar is a romantic.”

You laughed softly, tucking the card back into the bouquet. “Apparently. She’s full of surprises.”

Monica grinned, leaning back in her chair. “Girl, you’ve got it bad.”

You tried to ignore the flush that crept up your neck, your eyes drifting back to the bouquet on your desk. Maybe you did.

**********

Natasha wiped the sweat from her forehead, adjusting her grip on the barbell before settling into her seat. The gym was practically empty, just the way she liked it. Wanda was a few feet away, doing leg presses with ease while music pulsed through the space, the rhythm of the beats syncing with the steady clank of weights hitting the floor. Just as Natasha was about to dive into her next rep, her phone buzzed on the bench beside her. She hesitated for a second, but the moment she saw your name flash across the screen, she abandoned the barbell with zero hesitation.

Y/N: Thank you for the flowers 🌸 They’re almost as beautiful as the woman who sent them. Almost.

Natasha smirked as she leaned against the bench, typing back with one hand while the other still held onto the towel slung around her neck.

Natasha: Almost? I must be slipping. I’ll have to step up my game. 😏

She hit send, already imagining the soft laugh she knew you would give at the response. She wasn’t usually one for the whole romantic gesture thing, but with you, it felt... right. You were different, and Natasha could feel herself getting pulled deeper into this thing between you.

Wanda finished her set and glanced over, eyebrow arched as she caught Natasha mid-text. “You’re supposed to be working out, not flirting,” Wanda teased, giving her a knowing look.

Natasha didn’t bother hiding her smile. “Can’t help it. It’s... motivation.”

Wanda chuckled, moving to grab her water bottle. “Yeah? Motivation or distraction?”

Natasha shrugged, her eyes flicking back to her phone as it buzzed again.

Y/n: If this is you slipping, I can’t wait to see you in top form. Maybe tonight?

Natasha’s breath hitched slightly at the invitation, her mind already racing ahead to the possibilities of your date later. She glanced over at Wanda, who was watching her with mild amusement.

Natasha: Tonight, then. I’ll pick you up. Get ready to be impressed. 😉

Wanda raised an eyebrow as she stretched her arms. “You’re really into her, huh?”

Natasha paused, glancing at her friend before nodding. “Yeah, I think I am.”

Wanda smiled, something in her expression softening. She knew how guarded Natasha could be when it came to dating, so it was a relief to see her opening up again.

"Good," Wanda said simply. "I think you two look cute together. She's a breath of fresh air."

"Yeah," Natasha agreed. "She's different."

Wanda's smile grew wider. "You're different with her."

"Different how? I mean you've only seen us together once," Natasha wiped her brow again.

"Just different, a good different. You've got that glow that you used to have when you and Carol were first starting." Wanda pointed out. "You know before shit hit the fan."

"Hmm, maybe. We'll see." Natasha took a swig from her water bottle. "She's cool. She's secure in herself which is a pretty huge deal. It doesn't come across as cocky or anything."

"That's important. Especially in our field." Wanda nodded.

Natasha smiled to herself as she thought about the last time you’d kissed her goodbye. Your lips had tasted like mint toothpaste, your hands gentle and warm against her skin. It was such a simple thing—just a goodbye kiss—but it had stayed with her all day. She couldn’t wait to spend more time with you tonight.

"Well, I’m happy for you," Wanda said, breaking Natasha from her thoughts.

"Thanks," Natasha replied, feeling her cheeks warm as she thought about you again. "I'm... happy too."

It was true. Happy wasn’t a word Natasha often used to describe herself when it came to relationships. Her past romances had always been complicated, intense, and full of drama. It was almost a given that things would eventually blow up—whether it was her fault or the other person’s. But with you? It felt different.

She wanted it to be distinguishable.

For once, Natasha didn’t want a relationship that was marked by chaos or suffocating intensity. She didn’t want someone who would cling to her or become overly dependent, and she didn’t want to lose herself in someone else’s need for attention or validation. She’d been there before—too many times—and it always ended with someone getting hurt, usually her.

But with you, it felt like things could be... simple. Easy, even.

You weren’t trying to force your way into her life or demand all her time. You didn’t seem interested in changing her, and you weren’t fazed by her fame or reputation. If anything, you were the one who kept a distance from the spotlight, which Natasha found both refreshing and grounding. She liked that you had your own life, your own career, and your daughter to focus on. You didn’t need her to complete you.

That’s what Natasha craved—someone who wanted her but didn’t need her in the way that had always made her feel trapped before. She wanted love, yes, but not the kind that suffocated. She just wanted something real, something healthy. She wanted to feel safe and comfortable, the way she already did with you.

For the first time in a long time, Natasha felt like this could work. It was early, sure, but she couldn’t help but hope that maybe this time things would be different. Maybe this time she wouldn’t screw it up.

She glanced at her phone again, re-reading your last message. Her heart did that annoying little flip it had been doing more often these days, and she chuckled to herself.

***********

You stood in front of the mirror, staring at the dress you’d just slipped into, second-guessing yourself for what felt like the tenth time in an hour. It was a deep burgundy, with a flattering neckline, but was it too much? You tugged at the hem, frowning.

“I don’t know about this one,” You muttered, glancing over your shoulder at Monica and Isabella, who were both sitting on your bed, staring at you with varying levels of judgment.

Monica leaned back against the headboard, arms crossed. "It’s cute, but it feels a little... formal."

"Yeah, Mom," Isabella added, making a face. "It’s like you’re going to a wedding."

You sighed dramatically, turning back to the mirror. "Why is this so hard?" you grumbled, tossing your hair over your shoulder. "It’s just a date."

Isabella giggled, swinging her legs back and forth. "Not just any date. It’s Natasha Romanoff!"

Monica snorted. "Right? Rockstar extraordinaire."

You rolled your eyes, walking over to the closet and grabbing another dress off the hanger. "She’s just... Natasha," you said, trying to sound casual, but the butterflies in your stomach betrayed you. The truth was, Natasha wasn’t just any date. She had a way of making you feel both grounded and completely out of control, and that was terrifying.

Monica raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that."

You tossed the burgundy dress on the bed and slipped into a simpler black one. “Okay, how about this?” you asked, turning to face them again.

Isabella tilted her head, considering it. “Better,” she said. “But... kind of boring.”

Monica nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it’s cute, but you can do better. You’re going on a date with a rockstar, not attending a PTA meeting."

You huffed, pulling the dress off and tossing it aside, feeling a mix of frustration and nervous energy. "I just... want to look good," you admitted. "Not too overdressed, not too underdressed. Just right."

Monica smiled gently, getting up from the bed and walking over to your closet. "You’re overthinking it," she said, flipping through the hangers. "Natasha likes you, right? So whatever you wear, she’s going to think you look great."

You sighed, sitting down on the bed next to Isabella, who leaned against you, her little arm wrapping around your waist. "You think so?"

"Definitely!" Isabella chirped. "Plus, you always look pretty, Mama."

You kissed the top of her head. "Thanks, baby."

Monica finally pulled out a deep green two-piece pantsuit, simple but elegant, with just the right amount of edge. "What about this one?" she asked, holding it up.

You stared at it for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Yeah... I like that one."

Monica tossed it over to you with a grin. "Perfect. Now go get ready so I can get the scoop later."

You laughed, slipping into the outfit and smoothing the top down over your belly. "You’re not getting any scoop."

"We’ll see about that," Monica teased, winking at Isabella, who giggled.

As you slipped on a pair of heels and checked your reflection one last time, Isabella tugged at your hand. “Mom?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

"Do you like Natasha?" she asked, her voice innocent but curious. "Like... like like her?"

You paused, looking down at your daughter’s wide eyes. Monica raised an eyebrow, waiting for your response. It was a fair question, and one you’d been asking yourself a lot lately.

"I do," You finally said, feeling a little nervous saying it out loud. "I really do."

Isabella smiled. "Good. I think she likes you too."

You chuckled, smoothing a hand over her hair. "Yeah? You think so?"

Isabella nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! I saw the way she looked at you when she came over last time. She was smiling a lot."

Monica smirked from the corner of the room. "Out of the mouths of babes..."

You laughed, trying to ignore the way your heart fluttered at Isabella's words. Was it possible Natasha was already falling for you too?

A knock on the door made you jump, and Isabella squealed, running towards the door. "She's here!"

You took a deep breath, smoothing the front of your shirt and trying to calm your nerves. "Tell her I'll be right there."You called after her.

Isabella was more than happy to answer the door for Natasha. She swung it open with gusto, Bear hot on her tail, as she greeted the woman.

"Hey," Natasha said with a big smile.

"Hi, Natasha," Isabella said with a toothy grin. "Mama's almost ready. You can come in." She leads Natasha over to the living room and sits across from her on the couch. "Before she comes out I want to ask you a few questions."

Natasha was taken aback in an amused sort of way. "Questions?"

"Yup," Isabella said, a serious look on her face. "If my mom makes you mad, are you gonna write a mean song about her?"

Natasha had to hold back her laughter. She loved Isabella's forwardness and honesty. It was refreshing. "No. I don't write songs about people I care about. Plus, I'm not sure your mom could ever make me mad."

"She has her moments," Isabella shrugged. "Another question, Why do you like my mom? Not just for her body or her money or anything. I've been reading a lot of old school magazines lately and I have all of the information."

Natasha bit her lip and cleared her throat. "Uh, well, your mom is very kind and sweet. She's smart, and she has a really good sense of humor."

"And you're not using her for money?"

"Of course not."

Isabella seemed satisfied with her answers. She nodded. "Okay. Good. I like you, Natasha."

"Thanks, kiddo. I like you, too," Natasha chuckled.

"Do you think I could score backstage tickets to your next concert? I promise I'll behave."

"Isabella..."

Isabella rolled her eyes at your stern tone as you rounded the corner. "Fine." She sighed.

"Hey," You said softly, walking up to the pair, a small smile on your lips.

"Wow." Natasha breathed, taking in the sight of you. You looked incredible. "You look... good."

"Thank you so do you," You leaned into her embrace when she stood to kiss you on the cheek. You subtly glanced at her outfit, glad that you'd picked your casual one too. Natasa's dark denim jacket draped effortlessly over a loose white t-shirt. She wore Black skinny jeans, slightly distressed at the knees, and hugged her legs, giving her a subtle edge without trying too hard. Clean white sneakers grounded her look. A simple silver chain glinted at her collarbone, and her hair fell in tousled waves around her face, giving the impression that she hadn’t overthought any of it—yet still managed to look effortlessly striking.

"Thank you," Natasha said.

"You're welcome," You hummed as you pulled back from the hug, the scent of her perfume filling your nose.

"Okay, we'll be fine, Mama." Isabella gave a thumbs up. "Go have fun. Don't stay out too late."

You laughed. "We'll try not to," you promised. "And no ice cream past ten, okay?"

"Okay," Isabella rolled her eyes.

"Don't forget Bear's walk," you added.

"Mama," Isabella whined. "We got this. Go!"

"Alright, alright," You chuckled, turning to Natasha. "Ready?"

"Lead the way," Natasha smiled.

"Have a good time, ladies!" Monica called as the two of you made your way out the door.

Natasha held your hand as the two of you walked to the car, her fingers rubbing your knuckles soothingly.

"So where are we going?" You asked, glancing over at her.

Natasha grinned, squeezing your hand. "It's a surprise."

"Oh, a surprise?"

"Yup," She said. "Wait," She said just before opening the door. You turned to face her questioningly. She leaned forward, pressing her lips gently against yours.

Your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected move, and you let yourself sink into the kiss, savoring the way her lips felt against yours. It was soft and sweet.

"I figured you wouldn't want to do that in front of your daughter," Natasha mumbled awkwardly.

You laughed, resting your hands on her shoulders and pecking her lips again. "That was very thoughtful. Are you really not going to tell me where we are going?"

"I could tell you, but where's the fun in that?" She smiled, opening the car door and ushering you inside. As the car rolled down the busy streets, you found yourself stealing glances at Natasha. The way she carried herself, with a mix of confidence and ease, was enchanting. Her posture was relaxed but commanding, and even the simple act of driving seemed to radiate a kind of effortless cool.

The radio played a mix of tracks that Natasha had curated—a blend of classic rock and some modern hits that seamlessly complemented her edgy style. You could see the genuine enjoyment on her face as she sang along to the lyrics, her voice harmonizing effortlessly with the tunes. It was moments like these that made you appreciate the depth of her passion for music and the way it intertwined with every part of her life.

As the car pulled up to the restaurant, Natasha turned to you with a soft smile. "Hope you like this place. I've been wanting to check it out for a while."

You read the giant side on the outside of the building, The Cooking Institute.

"Cooking classes?" You guessed aloud. Natasha glanced over at you.

"I hope that's okay," She said quickly, suddenly a bit unsure of her plan. "I know it's a little unconventional, but I figured it could be fun. If not, we can just grab a drink somewhere or-"

"Natasha," You cut her off, resting a hand on her knee. "It's perfect."

Her shoulders relaxed, and she gave you a relieved smile. "Great. I'm glad."

You were soon ushered inside by an eager host, who led you to a spacious kitchen, equipped with every cooking appliance imaginable. You expected to see more guests inside of the space but instead only found an instructor.

"Welcome to Cooking Institute," The woman, who appeared to be in her mid-40s, greeted the two of you with a warm smile. "My name is Lisa. We're so excited to have you."

"Is this only for us?" You questioned Natasha.

"I rented it out for the night," She shrugged. "So, we could have some privacy."

You nodded, appreciating the gesture.

Lisa clapped her hands together. "Well, I'll let you two get settled and we can get started." She gave the pair of you a thumbs up and made her exit, leaving the two of you alone in the kitchen.

"So," You glanced over at Natasha. "What's the plan here?"

"Well," She grinned. "We're going to cook some food."

"Gee, I never would have guessed," You teased. "But what kind of food?"

Natasha's eyes twinkled with amusement. She leaned against the counter, her excitement barely contained as she outlined the evening’s menu. "Alright, here’s the plan," she said, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

"We’re starting with a Classic Wedge Salad—simple, and something I can make with no problem." She paused, savoring the anticipation. "Next up, we’ve got Cheesy Potatoes Au Gratin." Natasha’s smile widened, clearly proud of the menu.

"And then," she continued, "we’re making Oscar-Style Beef Filet. It’s a bit fancy but worth it." She chuckled at the look of awe on your face, clearly pleased with herself. "So, ready to get cooking?"

You nodded, laughing. "This sounds amazing. Let's do it."

As the night progressed, the two of you quickly fell into a comfortable rhythm. It was easy, being around her, and the conversation flowed naturally. The host led you both to your designated cooking station, complete with all the utensils and ingredients needed for the evening’s menu. Natasha's eyes sparkled with anticipation as she glanced around, her enthusiasm contagious. You could see the genuine pleasure on her face, which made you smile even more.

"How do you like your steak?" You asked.

"Medium rare," She said.

You nodded. "Same. This looks so amazing. I can't wait to taste it."

"Me too," Natasha admitted, glancing over at you. "I love a good steak."

You smiled, shaking your head in amusement. "Of course you do."

"What?" She chuckled.

"Nothing," You said. "It's just... you're very cool, Natasha Romanoff."

She grinned, leaning closer to you. "Well, thank you. That's very sweet."

You bit your lip, feeling a blush creeping up your neck.

"See, blushing," Natasha said smugly.

You nudged her, trying to hide your grin. "Stop it."

She smiled, her eyes softening. "Never."

As the meal came together, you were surprised by how much fun you were having. It turned out your cooking ability was light years beyond Nataha's. Which wasn't that surprising. It's not like she had a child to cook for or anything.

"Nope. You've got it all wrong," You said, trying to keep a straight face.

"What?" Natasha looked at you, perplexed.

"The salt, Natasha," You chuckled. "You need a lot more salt."

"Are you sure?" Natasha looked down at her mashed potatoes.

"Yes, I'm sure," You replied, trying not to laugh. "You can't eat those."

"Aw," Natasha frowned.

"It's okay baby," You assured her, patting her shoulder. "I'm here to help."

Natasha grinned. "Okay, Chef."

You smiled, leaning over and kissing her on the cheek. "You're cute."

"Thank you," Natasha said.

"Alright, enough messing around," You declared, picking up the wooden spoon. "Let's keep this going." As you both continued to cook, the kitchen became a lively space filled with laughter and playful banter. Natasha's attempts at seasoning and timing were endearing, though they often resulted in humorous mishaps. The contrast between her occasional culinary blunders and your surprisingly deft cooking skills became a running joke.

Often there were times you two forgot Lisa was even there, too wrapped up in each other to notice her. Finally, your meal was finished and you both sat in the dining area to enjoy it.

"Okay, I've got to admit, that was pretty amazing," Natasha said, sipping her wine.

You smiled, savoring the bite of tender beef. "It really was. Thanks for bringing me here."

"You're welcome," Natasha said. "I'm glad you liked it."

You looked up at her, your heart beating a little faster. She was looking at you with such fondness that it made your chest ache. "So, I figured we should get to know each other a little better."

"You mean we don't already know each other well?" She smirked, referring to your night together.

You blushed. "You know what I mean. I mean, the basic stuff. What's your favorite color? Your favorite movie? Things like that."

Natasha nodded, smiling softly. "Sure. My favorite color is blue."

"Like the ocean?" You asked.

"Yeah," she replied. "What about you?"

"Green," You answered. "Like the trees."

"Interesting," she murmured. "Movie?"

"I'm a big fan of romcoms," You confessed.

"Really?" Natasha asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Yeah," You shrugged. "The Proposal. Anything with Sandra Bullock or Jennifer Lopez and I'm sold."

Natasha laughed. "Good to know."

"What about you?" You questioned.

"Well, I'm a sucker for anything with Ryan Gosling." She grinned.

"Good choice," You agreed.

"Favorite food?"

"Anything sweet," She winked.

"I can work with that," You chuckled.

"Favorite TV show?"

"That's a tough one," She paused, thinking. "House."

"Nice," You said.

"Favorite song?"

"Don't you already know?" She arched an eyebrow.

"Yes," You laughed. "But I want to hear you say it."

"Fine," She sighed dramatically. "The Scientist by Coldplay."

"You have a good taste," You mused.

"I think so," She said, winking at you.

"I like The Night We Met," You replied.

"Really?" Natasha asked.

"Yeah," You said. "It's a great song."

"It is," She agreed. "I just didn't think you had a real liking for that particular genre."

"I'm full of surprises," You wiggled your fingers.

Natasha took a sip of her wine. "Clearly."

"Okay, last one," You said. "Favorite band."

"The Beatles," She replied without hesitation.

"Nice," You said.

"They're classics," She shrugged. "Can't go wrong with them."

"That's true," You said. "I think I have a lot more to learn about you, Natasha Romanoff."

She smiled softly. "Same goes for you, Y/N, Y/L/N."

As the two of you finished dinner, the conversation shifted into a more relaxed tone.

"So," You said, leaning back in your seat. "What's next on the agenda?"

"That depends," Natasha replied. "Do you trust me?"

You grinned, your heart skipping a beat. "With my life."

"Well, then, let's get going."

As the night progressed, you found yourself growing more and more intrigued by Natasha. She was intelligent and witty and had a surprisingly dry sense of humor. Her eyes lit up when she spoke about the things she was passionate about, and it was clear she was truly a free spirit. You could see why she had risen to fame so quickly.

***************

The next stop was Echo Park’s Swan Boat line, the sight of the bustling park filled with families and couples enjoying the evening brought a smile to your face. The iconic swan boats bobbed gently on the water, their white feathers illuminated by the soft glow of park lights.

"This is beautiful," You breathed, taking in the sight.

"It is," Natasha agreed, slipping her hand into yours.

"You ready to get out there?" She asked, grinning.

"I'm a little nervous but I'll get over it," You held her hand. You joined the queue, the line stretching a bit as people chatted and waited for their turn on the boats. As you neared the front of the line, you noticed a group of teenagers in front of you. One of them, a lanky teen with a mop of curly hair, kept glancing back at Natasha with a mixture of curiosity and excitement. After a few moments, his eyes widened, and he nudged his friend, whispering loudly, “Hey, isn’t that Natasha Romanoff?”

Natasha caught their gaze and offered a friendly if slightly reserved, smile. She knew being recognized was part of her life, but she also valued moments like these where she could enjoy a quiet, semi-anonymous outing. There was a moment when both of them argued about who would talk to her before they made a choice.

The teen, gathering his courage, turned around and said with a shy grin, “Hi, um, I don’t mean to bother you, but are you Natasha Romanoff?”

Natasha chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Guilty as charged. How are you doing tonight?”

The teen’s friends crowded closer, their excitement palpable. “We’re huge fans! This is so cool,” one of them exclaimed.

"Would you guys mind taking a picture with us?" Another asked, pulling out their phone.

Natasha's smile grew warmer. "Of course not. " She pulled you in close, wrapping an arm around your waist. You tried not to blush as the teens gathered around you, their phones held high.

"On the count of three, smile!" The first teen instructed. You obliged, smiling brightly as the phone flashed.

"Thank you so much," he gushed. "This is so awesome. My friends won't believe this."

Natasha grinned, giving them a wink.

"Are you guys on a date?" One of the teens, a girl with an oversized hoodie and glasses asked.

"Maybe," Natasha's eyes sparkled. "Or maybe it's just a casual hangout between friends."

You laughed, shaking your head. "I can tell you that I'm a fan of hers." You played along.

"Me too!" The girl squealed. "I'm your biggest fan, Ms. Romanoff."

"I'm flattered," Natasha chuckled. "Well, have a good night, everyone." She pulled you toward the front of the line as it was now your turn to ride.

"Thank you, Ms. Romanoff!" The girl called out. "This is the best night ever!"

"Any time," Natasha called back. You couldn't help but smile as the teens began animatedly talking amongst themselves.

"That was nice of you," You murmured.

Natasha's gaze softened. "They were sweet kids. Besides, I don't mind the occasional photo op. It's all part of the job. You ready?"

You looked at the small boat tethered to the dock, a mix of nervousness and excitement fluttering in your chest. "Is it safe?"

Natasha laughed softly. "It's perfectly safe. I promise."

With a deep breath, you nodded. "Alright, let’s do it."

You both climbed into the boat, Natasha taking the oars and maneuvering it gently away from the dock. As the boat drifted into the middle of the pond, the moonlight cast a soft glow over the water, creating a serene and almost magical atmosphere.

The gentle lapping of the water against the boat was soothing, and you glanced at Natasha, who was focused and confident as she rowed. After a few moments, she set the oars aside and leaned back, her gaze meeting yours.

"How are you holding up?" she asked, a teasing smile on her lips.

"Surprisingly well," you replied, your heart racing a little from the adventure. "This is actually kind of thrilling."

"I'm glad," Natasha grinned, reaching for your hand and squeezing it.

You gazed up at the night sky, admiring the twinkling stars and the bright moon. It was a beautiful night, and you were happy to be sharing it with her.

"I know this is a little cheesy," She started, her gaze turning soft. "But I've always loved the idea of a first date."

"I love a good first date," You chuckled. "I think you knocked it out of the park for sure." You said.

"I'm glad," She whispered. "I was hoping you'd like it."

You smiled, your chest tightening with emotion. You felt a connection with Natasha that you couldn't explain.

"So, my girlfriend..." You grinned, alluding to Natasha's introduction of herself to Sam.

"It has a nice ring to it," She laughed aloud. "I saw you fumbling and took the opportunity."

"Thank God for it," You shook your head. "I don't think I would have known what to say."

"You would have figured it out," She assured.

"Not fast enough," You replied. "I want you to be my girlfriend." You said with such confidence Natasha's head whipped over to you.

"Wait, really?" She asked. 

"Really," You nodded.

Natasha smiled, her cheeks flushed with pleasure.

"I was hoping you would," She replied.

"Well, consider me your girlfriend," You declared, feeling your stomach do flips.

Natasha's gaze met yours, and she leaned in, kissing you tenderly. The kiss was soft and sweet, filled with the promise of something more.

"Thank you," She whispered, her breath warm against your skin.

"You're welcome," You murmured, your heart pounding.

You sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, simply enjoying each other's presence.

"So," She finally spoke, her voice quiet. "Where do we go from here?"

"I guess we figure it out together," You replied, your gaze locked on hers.

"I can't wait," She said, her eyes shining.

---> next part

[strategichannah]

The Power of Storytelling in Content Marketing

Want to make your content more impactful? 🎯 Discover how storytelling can transform your marketing, build trust, and create lasting connections with your audience. #ContentMarketing

The Power of Storytelling in Content Marketing Written By: that Hannah Jones Time to Read: 4 minutes In today’s saturated digital landscape, businesses are constantly vying for attention. But while eye-catching visuals and SEO techniques can drive clicks, they don’t necessarily keep readers engaged or create a lasting impact. This is where storytelling shines. Storytelling goes beyond simply…

[cerebralisis]

One more post before the show? Okay fine. I’ve been thinking a lot about You’re on Your Own Kid now that this is wrapping up. What do you wanna bet she plays it tonight?

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes = This has been the fight of my career. From the beginning, I should have said no. And now we’ve got bad blood.

Summer went away. Still the yearning stays. I play it cool with the best of them = Summer 2019 came and went. The plan failed. I pretend I’m fine, but I’m not. I still want to be free.

I wait patiently. He’s gonna notice me. It’s okay we’re the best of friends. Anyway. = I’ve dropped so many hints for my fans. They say they love me, and they’re really good at picking up on Easter eggs so surely they’ll notice the real me… right?

I hear it in your voice. You’re smoking with your boys. I touch my phone as if it’s your face = There she goes again - the pop star is out in public hiding behind smokescreens with another of her masquerading men.

I see the great escape. So long Daisy May. I picked the petals, he loved me not = My fans never figured it out, so it’s time to go. I’ve found a way to leave behind this phony trademark character.

Something different bloomed writing in my room. I play my songs in the parking lots. I’ll run away. = While writing folklore and evermore, I realized that I don’t need the industry or the pop star at all. I’ll re-record everything, I’ll cut out the middle man, I’ll ditch my brand and do it on my own.

I search the party of better bodies just to learn that my dreams aren’t rare = My dreams are to be free. As I walk through these industry parties, I see that I’m not the only one. There are a lot of us trapped in here.

I gave my blood sweat and tears for this. I hosted parties and starved my body like I’d be saved by a perfect kiss = I’ve given all I have and turned into the unhealthiest version of myself to make everyone else happy and be who they want me to be

The jokes weren’t funny, I took the money, my friends from home don’t know what to say = This whole process has been so humiliating. I’ve sold out my authenticity for money and success.

I looked around in a blood-soaked gown and I saw something they can’t take away = No matter what the public or the industry does to me, I know who I am, and there are people close to me who know the real me and love me.

Cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned - It’s time for the next chapter. Even if I burn bridges with my fans and the industry, and I burn down the bridges of my songs, there’s more beyond that.

So make the friendship bracelets, take the moment and taste it. You’ve got not reason to be afraid = I’ll make new friends in the process. I have to do this. It’ll be okay.

You’re on your own kid. Yeah you can face this.

[blissfullyecho]

How to Build a High-Value Personal Brand for 2025

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A high-value personal brand speaks for itself and doesn’t need constant validation. To craft this kind of brand, you need intention, strategy, and most importantly, confidence.

Start by defining your unique value proposition. To build a standout personal brand, it’s crucial to understand what makes you different. Think about what you offer that others can’t. Your brand should be rooted in authenticity—clarifying what you’re known for, whether it’s expertise, passions, or core values. This isn’t about being everything to everyone; it’s about being clear on what you bring to the table.

A consistent visual identity is key to elevating your brand. Your aesthetic must align with the image you want to project, whether through social media, a website, or content. Everything should reflect a polished, professional image that exudes sophistication and exclusivity. A consistent color palette, style, and tone in your visuals will reinforce your brand’s message, ensuring it feels cohesive and high-end.

Your online presence is your first impression, so it needs to be impeccable. High-value women don’t indulge in oversharing or negativity. They create and post content thoughtfully, aligning it with their values and showcasing their lifestyle, expertise, and mission. Each post or interaction should reflect your tone—confident, poised, and purposeful. Engage with others in a way that shows you value their attention but also maintain an air of exclusivity.

Your voice must be unmistakable. The most powerful personal brands have a signature style of communication. Whether you’re writing, speaking, or engaging in casual conversation, your tone should radiate authority and confidence. People should know exactly what to expect from you and be drawn to your unique way of expressing yourself. Whether it’s your writing style, speech patterns, or even how you present yourself in person, everything should reflect the strength of your personal brand.

Networking is an essential part of building a high-value personal brand. Cultivate relationships with people who align with your vision and can help elevate you to the next level. Don’t waste time networking for the sake of it—focus on building meaningful, mutually beneficial connections. Surround yourself with individuals who respect and support your growth, and who can open doors that might otherwise remain closed.

Staying true to your core values is non-negotiable. Your personal brand should be grounded in principles that guide every decision you make. Whether it’s integrity, self-respect, or authenticity, your values should remain unwavering. A high-value brand is built on consistency and trust, which means never compromising your standards to chase approval or popularity.

Make sure you’re seen and heard in the right places. Position yourself where your ideal peers are. Don’t try to fit into spaces that don’t resonate with your new brand or that dilute your value. You need to ensure your presence is visible in circles that align with your mission and values.

Finally, invest in yourself. Your personal brand is a reflection of your commitment to growth. Continuously improving your skills, upgrading your wardrobe, or even seeking coaching will all contribute to your personal brand’s evolution. The most powerful personal brands are built by women who are always leveling up and never stagnating. When you invest in yourself, your brand reflects that growth and continues to attract more opportunities.

A high-value personal brand isn’t about pretending to be someone you’re not. It’s about embodying who you truly are and aligning every part of your presence with that authentic essence. When you consistently show up as your best self and project your worth unapologetically, opportunities will flow your way.

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[theblackfemininesociety]

Make that content girl.

This is your sign, it’s time to start your own channel, business, brand your gifts. Whatever little voice that’s been telling you to “try it” we are hear to shine a light on that part of you.

Here’s why:

• Life is too short, you don’t have to live a life of what ifs. Trying is better than failing on any level. You won’t know until you try.

• It’s a new year baby, you’ve made it this far… what if this is the year that elevates you in the way you’ve always dreamed of?

“Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”

— Albert Einstein

• B.F.S encourages all of our besties to enhance your skills this year, what if you can turn that hobby into multiple streams of income? ✨💰

• The social media aesthetic is changing, people are craving authenticity and normalcy. People want to connect and relate to what they are consuming, what if you’re holding on to the content / products needed to help someone else?

• No one is YOU and that’s your power 💎

Follow us on Facebook • X • Instagram

[babsworlds]

TEXT ME.

pairing. Tom Ryder x famous! fem! reader

synopsis. you met your biggest fan at the party.

warnings. mentions of alcohol, it’s a bit awkward and bad? idk. I HATE THE DIALOGUE but whatever.

YOU WERE INFLUENCER AND MODEL, which was quite a big deal. It all began with you posting small vlogs on TikTok just for fun. Your beauty and kindness caught people's attention, making them remember you.

Before long, you became even more famous. You were invited to movie premieres, walked the red carpets, and even had the chance to model for famous designers on runways.

With your online presence growing, brands began to take notice. You found yourself collaborating with top-tier companies, showcasing their products in your unique and engaging way. Your followers couldn't get enough of your authentic style, and your influence continued to expand.

Your days became a whirlwind of photoshoots, events, and content creation. Yet, through it all, you remained grounded, never forgetting the joy that sharing your life with your audience brought you.

You often found yourself at after-parties, mingling with your favorite actors, singers, and creators. These gatherings were a highlight of your social calendar, offering the chance to connect with inspiring individuals.

In these lively environments, you formed genuine friendships with many of the people you admired, turning professional acquaintances into close personal friends.

Tonight was special. You had been invited to a post-premiere afterparty, and the energy in the room was electric. Confetti swirled through the air, colorful lights bathed the space in vibrant hues, and the atmosphere was charged with excitement and joy. The room pulsed with music, and the sweat of dancing bodies added to the lively ambience.

You were in your element, surrounded by friends who shared your enthusiasm. Together, you moved to the rhythm, letting the music guide your every step. Laughter and conversation flowed freely, and as you danced, you felt a deep sense of connection and happiness.

The renowned Tom Ryder lounged in the VIP section, surrounded by female admirers, illegal substances, and alcohol. Yet, amidst the chaos, his gaze was fixed on you.

Tom had been watching you for a while now. He followed you on every social media platform, liking every Instagram post you shared. His interest was clear, and tonight, it seemed, he was determined to make his move.

He liked every photo and video you shared, often leaving thoughtful comments that stood out from the rest. Tom would watch your stories, finding himself entranced by your charm and authenticity.

At events like tonight, he would discreetly watch you from afar, fascinated by the way you carried yourself with confidence and grace. His admiration for you grew with each passing day, and he couldn't help but feel a deep longing to be a part of your world.

You were aware that Tom was somewhat of a fan, but you never gave it much thought. You had heard rumors about his rude, narcissistic behavior and his inflated ego. These whispers were enough to keep you from engaging with him, despite his persistent attention on social media.

Despite the girl on his lap, her hands draped around his neck, Tom's eyes were locked on you. It was as if everyone else in the room had vanished, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of intense focus. His unwavering gaze made you feel like the center of the universe, even amidst the chaos of the party.

Tom harshly pushed the girl away, making his way through the crowd towards you. He stood behind you, hesitating for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. "Hey," he finally said, his voice barely audible over the music.

You turned around, surprised to see him so close. His intense gaze met yours, and for a moment, the noise of the party seemed to fade into the background.

"Uh hey—" you replied, leaning closer to him. Tom bent down to your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "Can I get you a drink?" he asked. You were genuinely surprised that THE Tom Ryder had just invited you for a drink.

Feeling a mix of curiosity and excitement, you nodded. "Sure," you answered. Tom smiled, his eyes lighting up as he gestured toward the bar.

The two of you made your way to the bar, where you ordered a mojito, your favorite drink. There was an awkward silence as you both waited for the bartender to prepare the drinks. You weren't entirely comfortable, feeling a bit out of place with Tom by your side. But at least you got a free mojito out of it.

“I’m following you on Instagram,” Tom said, breaking the awkward silence. “And I really like your content.” His words were sincere, and you could sense his genuine admiration.

“Thank you,” you said with a smile, “I like your movies, you are incredible.” It was a little white lie, as you had only seen one of his movies and hadn't been impressed. But you wanted to be polite, and perhaps you could see more of his work before making any firm judgments.

Tom's face lit up with your compliment. “Really appreciate that,” he replied, looking genuinely pleased.

Tom leaned closer, resting his head in his palm. "I mean, you are really pretty," he said with a slightly slurred voice. It was clear he had already had a few drinks, but his compliment felt genuine nonetheless.

“Maybe we could go on a date sometime,” Tom offered, his words slurred in a way that made you chuckle. “Maybe sometime,” you replied, a playful smile tugging at your lips. Tom wasn’t shy; he went straight to the point, and maybe you liked that about him. After all, his directness had a certain charm, and his undeniable attractiveness didn’t hurt either.

As you considered his proposition, you felt a flutter of excitement in your chest. There was something intriguing about this unexpected encounter with Tom Ryder, the enigmatic celebrity who had been quietly admiring you from afar.

“Text me,” you said, standing up from the bar stool. “Thanks for the drink, Ryder.” You handed the bartender your empty glass, feeling the slight coolness of the glass against your fingers, before turning to leave.

As you disappeared into the crowd, a mix of emotions swirled within you. The initial surprise of Tom’s approach, the excitement of his attention, and the curiosity about what might come next.

As you mingled with the crowd, the night continued to pulse with energy and excitement. You could still feel Tom's eyes on you, even though you had moved away. The mix of emotions within you was intoxicating—curiosity, excitement, and a hint of caution. You couldn't deny that the encounter had left a lasting impression.