#i can think of a story and then the moment i want to write it down my brain just goes nope. not doing that lol enjoy sitting around

[cosmicanakin]

╰ ﹒ (sorta) long awaited PART 2 to this DEAN BLURB. 🍋‍🟩

i'm shit at writing a second part to any standalone FICS or BLURBS so i'm rlly sorry if this isn't the 'makeup sex' type blurb yall were lookin' for <3

⎯⎯ warning(s) smut | emotional vulnerability | strong language | semi-public sex | rough sex | praise kink | dirty talk (yum) | jealousy | overstimulation | POSSESSIVE!DEAN | power dynamics | mirror sex. ఌ︎ EIGHTEEN PLUS! ADULT CONTENT | minors do NOT interact.

the bar is loud, filled with the familiar hum of conversations, clinking glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. you sit at a table near the back, surrounded by a few of your close friends—hunters like you, women who know the life, know the dangers, and are just as good at blowing off steam after a successful hunt. tonight, the drinks flow easily, and the laughter comes even easier. it's rare to get a reprieve like this, to have a night off where you can just relax and enjoy yourself. you deserve it. you know you do.

but even as your friends trade stories and jokes, your mind keeps drifting. keeps circling back to him. DEAN WINCHESTER. it's been weeks since you left him in that motel room, since you walked away without an explanation, with only a hastily written note. you haven't spoken to him since, haven't called, haven't reached out. not because you didn't want to. GOD, you wanted to. but fear held you back. fear of what he felt, of what you felt, of how everything had changed with those three words he'd let slip between gasps of pleasure.

i love you.

you still hear his voice in your head, still feel the way his body had tensed beneath you when he realized what he'd said. you'd thought about calling him a hundred times, a thousand times actually, to tell him you felt the same. that the reason you ran was because you were scared—scared of how much you loved him, how deeply you'd fallen without even realizing it. but every time you picked up the phone, you hesitated, and the moment passed.

now, sitting in this bar, surrounded by friends, you can't help but wonder if you made a mistake. if walking away from him was the worst decision you could've made. but before you can spiral any further, you hear it—a laugh. a deep, familiar laugh that sends a shock of recognition through your entire body.

you freeze, your drink halfway to your lips, as you turn your head and see him. DEAN WINCHESTER. standing at the entrance of the bar, his brother, sam, by his side. dean doesn't see you at first, too busy scanning the room, probably taking in the scene out of habit, always the hunter, always alert. but then his eyes snap to yours.

it feels like the air is sucked from the room. your heart stutters in your chest, and for a moment, you can't move, can't breathe. he looks just like you remember—broad shoulders, brown leather jacket, that chiseled jawline you've traced with your fingers more times than you can count. but there's something in his eyes, a flicker of something raw and unresolved, and you know he's thinking about that night, about the last time you saw each other.

he doesn't move. neither do you.

but his gaze lingers on you, even as a blonde woman sidles up to him, clearly trying to get his attention. she's pretty—tall, curvy, the kind of woman who turns heads in a place like this. but dean barely spares her a glance, his eyes locked on you like he can't tear himself away. you feel a surge of something hot and uncomfortable twist in your chest—jealousy, anger, desire. god, you miss him. you miss him so much it hurts.

and it's not just him. it's the way he made you feel, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, the way his hands felt on your skin, rough and gentle all at once. the way he'd held you that night, the way he'd said he loved you, like it was the most natural thing in the world. like he couldn’t help it.

you tear your gaze away, pretending to focus on the conversation at your table, but your mind is spinning. your body is buzzing with the awareness of him, of how close he is, of how much you want him. but the thought of facing him, of having that conversation, of admitting how you feel... it terrifies you.

so you do the only thing you can think of. you excuse yourself, telling your friends you need to use the bathroom, and slip away from the table, weaving through the crowded bar until you reach the small, dingy restroom at the back. you close the door behind you, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead, and lean against the sink, staring at your reflection in the cracked mirror.

your heart is racing, your skin flushed, and all you can think about is dean. about the way his muscles flexed under that leather jacket, the way he looked at you like he was starving for you. heat pools low in your belly, and filthy thoughts flood your mind—thoughts of him pressing you against the mirror, fucking you from behind until you're a mess, just like he did that night in the motel.

you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to push the thoughts away, but it's no use. your body wants him. you want him.

and then the door creaks open.

your eyes snap open, and you see him—dean, standing in the doorway, his eyes dark with that same hunger you feel. he steps inside, closing the door behind him, locking it with a click. your heart pounds in your chest, and you can't move, can't speak, as he crosses the small space between you, his body heat radiating off him in waves.

he doesn't say a word. he doesn't have to.

his hands are on you in an instant, rough and desperate, pulling at your clothes, as you do the same to him. his leather jacket hits the floor, followed by your shirt, your jeans, his belt clinking as he yanks it free. his breath is hot against your neck, and he's whispering in your ear, his voice low and gravelly.

"you're such a bad girl for leaving me like that," he growls, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your throat. "but god, y'feel so fucking good... s'perfect."

his words send a shiver down your spine, and you can't stop the whimper that escapes your lips as he spins you around, pressing you against the mirror. your breath fogs the glass as his hands grip your hips, his body pressing against yours from behind. he wastes no time, thrusting into you with a force that makes your knees buckle, but his strong arms hold you steady, keep you grounded.

you're a mess beneath him, a blubbering, trembling mess as he fucks you hard and fast, his hips pistoning into yours with a desperation that matches your own. he's everywhere, all at once—his hands, his mouth, his body consuming you, and you can't think, can't breathe, can't do anything but feel.

"you're mine,” he growls, his voice rough and possessive in your ear. "you've always been mine."

and it's true. you know it's true. you've always been his.

you lose track of time, of how many times you come, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer, your body shaking with the force of it. by the time he finally pulls out of you, you're spent, your legs trembling, your breath ragged. but dean takes care of you, cleaning you up, pressing soft kisses to your skin as he helps you back into your clothes, his touch gentle and tender, so different from the roughness of moments ago.

when you're both dressed, you turn to him, your eyes meeting his, and without thinking, you pull him into a kiss. it's not like the others—it's not fueled by lust or desperation. this kiss is soft, slow, full of something deeper, something you've been too afraid to admit 'til now.

when you finally pull away, dean looks at you, his eyes searching yours. "what was that for?" he asks, his voice quiet, vulnerable.

you take a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. "i love you," you admit, the words catching in your throat. "and i'm sorry for leaving you like that. i was scared. but, fuck… i love you too, dean. i always have."

the smile that breaks across his face is like sunrise, brilliant and beautiful. he pulls you close again, pressing his body into yours. "yeah?"

"yeah," you whisper back. "turns out you're kind of hard to resist, winchester."

he laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest where you're pressed against him. "good thing i'm not trying to resist you anymore either, sweetheart."

when you eventually make your way back to the bar, sam takes one look at your slightly disheveled appearance and dean's stupid grin and rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. your friends are also giving you knowing looks, and the blonde from earlier has long since found another target.

none of that matters, because dean's hand finds yours again, and this time, neither of you are running anywhere. he also pulls you close to him again, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both tender and passionate, a promise of something more.

something real.

꣑୧ UNOFFICIAL TAGLIST. @anqeliclust @aileenunfiltered @embarrasingmf @stereotypicalbarbie @ninii-winchester @suckitands33 @ohheyguyss @spxideyver @artyandink @titsout4nicholas 𓂃 ݁ 𖦹

[1mlei]

Demon Twin Au Thoughts

I've been thinking a lot about Demon Twin AUs lately.

I've read nearly all of the ones on ao3 (Please do send recs my way <3), and I adore the different interpretations of this concept. I will always love the version of this where Danny and Damian are reunited after Danny ends up in Gotham, or Damian in Amity.

I love this classic take on the AU, but I've been thinking about fun ways to spice it up. My favorite idea so far is the idea that the twins reunite after Damian temporarily dies.

Imagine Danny just minding his business in the Zone and he randomly sees his twin, who is supposed to be alive. Damian would be happy to be reunited, he's been under the assumption that Danny was dead since they were kids so he's just glad to see his twin again. Meanwhile Danny is freaking out because he literally faked his death and ran away so Damian could live, what the fuck is this?

You could add a touch of Sam and Tucker being confused on the side. I always imagine that Danny never told them about where he came from or his brother. (What can I say? I love the drama that secrets bring.) You could either have Damian look like his civilian self as a ghost, and have Sam and Tucker be confused af about this random ghost that looks just like Danny. They might think it's a weird duplicate or something, but then why is Danny so freaked out? You could also have Damian be in his Robin costume, I imagine Sam and Tucker would be shocked to randomly see the ghost of Robin in the Zone, but it's far from the weirdest thing they've seen in there. Again, Danny has never been a huge fan of other heroes or vigilantes, so why is he so freaked out about this one being dead? Of course, though Danny has stayed away from Gotham for various reasons he is aware that his twin brother has become Robin after moving in with their father, so he knows that this new ghost can only be one person.

Now moving away from the idea of the twins just randomly running into each other :)

You could try turning it into a twin telepathy type thing, where Danny senses Damian dying, or at least that something happens to him and goes to investigate.

Or, something that I feel is quite in character for Damian, he might hunt down Danny himself the moment he realizes where he is.

You could turn this in different directions again depending on whether Damian is in civilian clothes or his Robin costume. Either way, I imagine him questioning some other random ghost (maybe one of Danny's rouges for fun?) and regardless of how he's dressed they'll point him towards Danny.

"Oh you're looking for your brother? Idk man, go ask Phantom or something."

OR

"Your brother? You look fucking identical to Phantom so you might wanna start there."

Either way Damian tracks down Phantom and concludes that yes, that is his brother. Dramatic reunion ensues.

Last little thought I had on this, Damian doesn't think Danny is a ghost, he assumes he moved on, or maybe he somehow knows he faked his death and thinks he's alive? Regardless, Damian is a man on a mission the moment he arrives in the Zone, he refuses to stay in this pathetic realm and decides that whether he's dead or alive he will make his way back to Earth. Best way to get there? Damian goes to talk to the king of course, to negotiate (or fight if necessary) about going back to Earth. If not that, he just happens to hear about a certain half-human, half-ghost hybrid and tracks him down for help. A hybrid sounds like someone who would know how to go back and forth between the realms after all.

---

All this to say, I want more of the Demon Twins reuniting in the Ghost Zone. If anyone has recommendations or ends up writing a story of this please do send a link my way, it would be most appreciated <3

+ Bonus points will be added if there is a scene where Damian is resurrected and Danny decided to tag along. Cue confused batfam freaking out because oh god there's two of them now how did that happen.

[novlr]

I’m just starting out with writing, and I really want my characters to feel different from each other. How do I make sure they have their own unique voices so my readers can tell them apart?

Experiment with character dialect

Dialect refers to the language people use when they speak: their accent, their slang, their regional or generational vernacular. When we think of “dialect”, we often think of things like “y’all” or “yer man” or “innit” — clichéd indications of place. You can definitely use these in your story, but also challenge yourself to go deeper.

Dialect can be a result of generational trends — you’ll notice that today’s teenagers don’t talk the same way their parents or grandparents do! Words fade in and out of fashion all the time. They can also be tied to a particular industry or subculture. When developing each character’s unique voice, consider what kind of slang or specialised language they might incorporate into the way they speak. 

Vary your characters’ syntax

Syntax has to do with the way we structure our sentences. Some characters will use only short, compact sentences, while others will ramble for miles. Some will always use grammatically correct language, while others will speak in fragments. 

A useful exercise is to write a conversation between two characters who use very different syntax in the way they talk. You can take their different approaches to the comical extreme until you get a sense of their different voices, and then dial it back and incorporate their individual syntaxes with more subtlety.  

Consider your characters’ word choices

There are very few true synonyms in the English language; each word has its own distinct connotation and tone. For example, one character might describe themselves as loquacious, while another describes them as a motormouth. Or, they might describe an authority figure as derisive, while the other character says they’re mean. 

The words a character lands on in any given situation can communicate a lot about how they see the world and themselves. 

Put your characters in moments of conflict

Conflict, tension, and suspense reveal who your characters really are. One character might become loud and aggressive, while another shuts down and speaks only in quiet monosyllables. Sometimes, a character’s voice contrasts the words they’re saying (you can communicate this through dialogue and action tags); for example, if a character says, “I’m not afraid!” in a strained, rattling voice, that belies their fear. 

As an exercise, try writing an argument between two of your characters and explore how the tension changes the way they speak. Then, you can incorporate this into your story.

Don’t neglect body language

On that note, a big part of a character’s distinct voice is the way they behave when they talk. You can convey this through action tags (“She hugged herself tight as she spoke��) or through descriptions surrounding the dialogue. 

Look at how your character holds themself — do they sprawl, taking command of the space, or do they try to make themself disappear? Do they only half-listen to the person talking to them, or do they make them feel like they’re the centre of the world? The way you communicate body language to the reader will inform the way they hear that character’s voice.

Read your work out loud

When you’ve finished the first draft of a story, it’s always a good idea to read your work out loud. This helps you catch any misused words, typos (the age of autocorrect is notorious for this), or inauthentic speech. You don’t have to let anyone hear you while you do this — it’s simply a tool for you as the writer to get a better sense of how your words come across on the page.

When you read, listen to each character’s dialogue and check to make sure it sounds true to that particular character. If you can’t tell the character voices apart, you may need to create a little more distinction through your revision process, using the tools we looked at above. 

Listen to character voices in the wild

A great way to develop your ear for character voices and get inspired along the way is to listen to the way real people talk. Go to a public park, a café, or a marketplace and stealthily absorb the language people use to express themselves. See if you can get a sense of what they’re thinking and feeling underneath their words. Then, you can incorporate elements of these experiences into your characters. 

Remember — human beings are unfathomably complex. Each is the epicentre of their own little universe, with all its dangers and joys. To create characters that readers will follow to the end, ensure that each one has a voice that’s unique and alive. 

[fuck-customers]

This whole situation just does not sit right with me.

I witnessed the situation and this is what I saw from my perspective:

The register line was a bit long and a young black girl (I think this is relevant in relation to the way the other woman reacted, as I will explain in a sec) seemingly decided that whatever she was waiting in line for was not worth the wait and since she was 2nd in line, just moved towards the front to the register to reach the exit doors, saying "excuse me/excuse me, can I get through?" multiple times to the older white woman in front of her, who did not move. (This I did hear and even spoke up to ask the older white woman to let her through)

The older white woman (I'd estimate she was in her 50s or 60s) either didn't hear her or purposely refused to move over, so the younger girl had to awkwardly squeeze by her doing that side-shuffle thing.

Then the older woman starts screaming at the young woman (who was probably 18-25) and calling her a thief and claiming that the girl's hand was in her purse and that she was trying to steal.

Just throwing out my personal biased opinion, I think the older woman was completely full of shit and was either racist, a Karen wanting attention, or both. Either way, I had to do my customer service shtick and humor her.

So I asked the older lady to please take a moment to look through her bag and confirm whether or not anything was missing, while I called for my manager.

These next 2 things are what really did not sit well with me. The manager comes up, I briefly explain the situation, she also asks the woman to confirm her belongings, during which the woman herself confirmed that there was nothing missing from her bag, but still insisted on pressing charges. (How? We don't know who the girl was and I don't think she could be accurately identified from the security cameras. Also, somehow in the confusion someone said she was an employee at my store? She was not.) The woman confirming that nothing was missing, but still wanted to press charges seemed sus to me, but I could write that off as a Karen Karenning.

The part that really left a bad taste and made me lose a lot of respect for her, was after the whole situation was settled and my manager got the Karen's contact info and assured her that she'd get the security footage and yadda, yadda, yadda, and the woman left the store. My manager asked me to recall the situation as I saw it, which I retold the story and emphasized that I did not actually witness the girl stealing or even having her hand in the woman's purse. My manager starts parroting the woman's story to me as if she witnessed it, saying "no her hand was IN HER BAG" How do you know? You were on the far opposite side of the store. You didn't witness shit. We're alone now, you don't have to keep playing customer service, so that means you actually believe a crime that you did not witness?

I didn't have a lot of respect for my manager before this, but this just squashed the last drop of respect I did have for her.

My personal belief is that the younger black girl simply wanted to get out of line and unfortunately chose to squeeze by the wrong white woman and I think the white woman saw an opportunity to play the victim and was possibly a racist herself and get attention like a Karen and seized the opportunity. I do not believe anything was stolen (as the white woman herself confirmed) and the older white woman simply wanted to make a scene to get attention because she was bored or hard up for attention.

Posted by admin Rodney

[theclownghoul]

Arcane Season 2 has me messed up and not in a good way

It’s actually breaking my heart that I don’t love this show anymore.

I don’t want to hate it, there’s pieces I love but there’s also pieces I hate. Act l had me in such high hopes and then it stuttered then crashed and burned.

I just feel so disappointed with so many parts of it. Actively angry at others.

There are some moments that I loved that had me feeling the same high as the first season but every time I thought things would develop better they didn’t.

I think I’m only really happy with Ekko and I was worried about him for much of the season. As an Ekko and Jinx shipper I was pleased with most of their story but the way they ended Jinx’s story undermined the importance of their talk so…

Honestly I would trade all the ship stuff for a proper story arc for Vi, Jinx, Cait and the rest

I saw the signs for Vi as soon as her pit fighter arc didn’t extend passed the promo clips. I kept waiting to delve into her issues but that never came.

Jinx was done so dirty. And this was something I prayed wouldn’t happen. She’s so personal to me in ways that would take too long to go into here. I had high hopes for her, especially after Isha and her starting to move forward, I knew it wouldn’t last but I knew (hoped) it would be interesting. I fully expected Isha to die but the way it happened was so weird?? The scene itself felt like it was manipulating me which is something I hate with a passion.

Likewise I expected her to relapse into suicidality after that and I had suspected that the scene with Ekko would happen. Her scene with Vi beforehand hurt in a good way and I wanted to watch as she hit rock bottom then clawed her way back as she started to mend the broken relationships in her life.

The thing that finally set me off was her hair. I thought she would cut it after she decided to live, as a show a change but before was just so cliché (it did look cute but don’t go trying to distract me)

I really didn’t want people blaming Vi for Jinx running off to try to end herself again. And I didn’t, even though I knew something was wrong about the way the scene played out and lead into the sex scene. I knew something was wrong I was just hoping that I was wrong.

I was so looking forward to the CaitVi sex scene, since King Princess was revealed for the soundtrack. Hoping her and Cait would have a real ass conversation, a hard conversation and then get that moment together but it just felt wrong. I wanted to love it but I didn’t. As a King Princess fan I was so excited but all I feel now is at best apathy and at worst anger. The more I read from lesbians in the fandom and those that care for Vi how I care for Jinx the worse I feel.

Briefly let’s talk about Cait. I was interested in her arc after Act l. Messy it would be and a long road back for sure but I had hope. She was done dirty too.

Back to Jinx…. What the fuck was that ending? Her “sacrifice” felt so similar to her fights with Vi (Act l) and Ekko (S1) where she was going to let herself die. No growth from the rest of the season, that’s how they left us, that’s what they did to a character that they did so beautifully in S1. I don’t care if she’s alive, that’s not a fucking ending.

(Apologies for continuing to bring up my predictions. I just think it’s funny how my thoughts make more sense than what we got)

I didn’t mind the idea of her sacrificing herself for Vi, Arcane is a tragedy after all. Her being the one to protect her sister in the end not because she thought Vi was better off without her but because Vi protects everyone and her sister can help now would have been great.

But that ending rubbed me wrong in every way.

The story of these sisters meant everything to me and what a fool we all were to think it was in competent hands. Like seriously I can’t believe this is the same writing team.

All of us went in with high hopes and then had those hopes crushed.

I’ve seen so many people who were excited to react and analyze go radio silent after Act ll and I hope they stay that way. I’d love to change my mind but I don’t think I can. I don’t think there’s any coming back.

I wanted to take the good moments and leave it alone but I keep feeling the disappointment because the show’s first season left a mark on me that I’ll treasure forever and I can’t let go. I still have so many feelings about this. Piltover and Zaun, Victor and Jayce, Mel and Ambessa, admittedly not my area of expertise but safe to say they all deserved better and we deserved better.

I would say it felt like a fanfic but I know fans have more grace and respect for this story.

This is not the tragedy I signed up for.

[shaiprsly]

𝐂𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐲 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : Elvis Presley x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : 1972. Fame, wealth, and the haunting allure of Elvis Presley—everything Y/N could ever want, except the one thing that really matters: a simple, normal life. Hired as the nanny for Lisa Marie Presley, Y/N is thrown into the heart of the Presley world, where she quickly becomes more than just a caretaker for Elvis's daughter. As Priscilla remains distant, Y/N steps in, offering Lisa Marie the affection and attention she craves. But it’s Elvis, cold and aloof at first, who soon becomes captivated by her. With 15 years between them, Elvis begins to blur the lines between professional and personal, showering Y/N with gifts and flirting dangerously. He may be married, but that doesn't stop him from wanting Y/N. Torn between duty and desire, Y/N must face the growing tension, knowing that giving in could shatter everything she’s worked for. Will she resist the King of Rock and Roll, or will his love prove impossible to escape?

𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬/𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : Cussing, cheating, age gap (Elvis is 37, reader is 22), virgin reader, emotional manipulation. I guess that all !!

𝐀/𝐍 : Hi so this is my first time writing and actually posting (and it's literally a whole fic), but I wanted to give it a try!! Let me know what you think and if I should keep writing, because I'm not sure lmao, I might change little thing in the story !! ALSO MY FIRST LANGUAGE ISN'T ENGLISH!! I'M FRENCH LOLLZ

February 15th, 1972

You stand at the base of the grand staircase, your heart pounding in your chest. The door in front of you looms like a barrier between the life you’ve always known and the unknown world that lies just beyond it. The house, a sprawling mansion with gleaming white columns and intricate ironwork, feels both overwhelming and intimidating. It’s everything you’ve read about in magazines and seen on TV—the kind of place people dream of living in but never actually do. But today, it’s not a dream. Today, it’s your reality.

You’ve always been practical, grounded by the simplicity of life. Growing up in the countryside, you never imagined you’d end up here, working for one of the most famous families in the world. But here you are, standing in front of the Presley estate, about to walk into a life so far removed from your own that it almost feels surreal.

Priscilla Presley had called you last Tuesday, saying she’d come across your nanny advertisement in a mall, and that she needed help with Lisa Marie since Elvis would be away for a month. You had never worked for anyone like them, and the idea of leaving your quiet, small-town life was intimidating. But when Priscilla’s calm, urgent voice came over the phone, you couldn’t refuse. After asking you a series of questions, she offered you the job, promising a paycheck at the end of the month of $3,700. It seemed too good to be true, but you couldn't turn it down. This was Elvis Presley’s daughter—how could you?

Still, that knot of nervousness twisted in your stomach. You'd been a nanny before, in your small town, but this was a whole different level.

You shift your weight, feeling the weight of the mansion’s presence. The world you’re about to step into feels much larger than you, and you’re unsure if you’ll ever truly fit in. But there’s no turning back now. You’ve been hired, and now you have to prove you can do the job. As you lift your hand to knock on the door, it opens slowly, and there he is.

Elvis Presley.

In person.

Standing before you.

You’ve seen him on TV, in movies, and on the covers of countless magazines, but nothing prepared you for the way he commands a room the moment he steps into it. His presence is magnetic—powerful, undeniable. He’s taller than you imagined, his broad shoulders filling the doorframe, his gaze steady and intense. There’s something about the way he looks at you—cold, assessing, as if he’s evaluating you in the span of a single heartbeat.

“Must be Y/N,” he says, his voice low, rough, and heavy with that familiar drawl. “Priscilla told me you’d be here, she's out for the day.”

You nod, throat tight. You’re not sure what to say. Elvis Presley doesn’t feel like a real person. He feels like an idea, a legend. And yet, here he is, standing right in front of you. “Yes, that’s me,” you manage, trying to sound confident, though your heart is racing. “I’m here to look after Lisa Marie.”

His eyes flicker for just a moment, a hint of something you can’t place passing through them, but then it’s gone, replaced by the same indifferent expression. “Come in,” he grunts, stepping aside to let you enter. His voice is dismissive, as if he’s done this countless times before.

You step inside, the cool air of the mansion washing over you. The grand foyer is decorated with dark wood furniture, vintage paintings on the walls, and thick, plush rugs that muffle your footsteps. The space feels like it’s frozen in time, a snapshot of another era. You feel like you’ve stepped into a different world, one where wealth and fame are the rules, not the exceptions.

“Hey, squirt,” Elvis calls out, his voice surprisingly soft for a moment. You turn, and Lisa Marie is standing there, staring up at you with big, innocent eyes.

“Are you the new lady?” Lisa Marie asks, her voice soft but clearly curious. She can barely form full sentences at her age, but you catch the excitement in her tone. She’s only four, after all.

You smile, kneeling to meet her at eye level. “Yes, I’m Y/N,” you reply gently. “I’m here to look after you.”

Lisa Marie grins widely and grabs your hand. “Yay! I like you,” she says, pulling you toward the living room. You can’t help but laugh, her enthusiasm melting some of your nerves.

As you follow her, Elvis lingers in the background, crossing his arms and watching you both with a detached interest. His gaze, however, is still sharp, as if he’s measuring you up, trying to figure you out.

“Don’t make a mess, kid,” Elvis mutters under his breath, not even glancing at Lisa Marie. It’s clear he’s trying to maintain some semblance of authority, but he doesn’t seem particularly engaged with his daughter. He’s just there, overseeing it all.

Lisa Marie pulls you down to the carpet, surrounded by her scattered toys. She starts showing you some of her favorites, her speech still childlike and a little jumbled. “This is my bear. He talks,” she says, holding up a stuffed animal that looks like it’s seen better days.

“Really?” you ask, playing along. “What does he say?”

“He says ‘I love you,’” she replies matter-of-factly, “but only when no one’s looking.” She giggles softly and looks over at her father.

You glance over, and Elvis is still watching, but now his gaze is a little different—colder, perhaps, but you can’t be sure. He’s standing against the doorframe, arms crossed, his jaw tight as he observes you.

“Do what you gotta do, but keep it quiet,” he grumbles. “Lisa’s gotta learn some focus.”

You try not to let his words bother you. It’s clear he’s not the warmest man, and his attitude toward you seems colder with every passing moment. But you’re not here to be distracted by him. You’re here for Lisa Marie, and that’s all that matters.

____

The afternoon sun hangs lazily in the sky, casting long shadows across Lisa's room. Lisa had finally fallen asleep around 3 PM, her small body curled into a peaceful ball on her hamburger bed, the gentle rise and fall of her chest the only sound in the otherwise still room. You smile at her for a moment, the warm feeling of accomplishment filling your chest. You had managed to calm her down after a long afternoon of playing, and now, for the first time in what felt like hours, you have a moment to yourself.

With soft steps, you turn and leave the bedroom, your fingers brushing against the cool walls of the hallway as you make your way toward the living room. You need a break, just a few minutes away from the constant responsibility of being Lisa Marie’s caretaker. But as you step into the living room, you freeze in place.

There, on the couch, is Elvis.

He’s sitting back with his legs spread out, a glass of whiskey in his hand. It’s barely 3:15 PM, and yet, there he is, drinking. You blink, confused by the sight. You glance at him, and his eyes flicker up from his glass, catching yours. But he doesn’t say anything, his gaze simply lingering over you, as if expecting you to say something.

You don’t. You don’t have the courage to. After all, you’re not here to challenge him or question his choices. You’re here to take care of Lisa. That's it.

As you take a hesitant step forward, your eyes can’t help but notice something strange. Elvis is taking more than just a drink. With the glass still in his hand, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small bottle of pills. Your heart skips a beat as he pops a few into his mouth, tossing the bottle back into his pocket without a second thought.

Your mind races. You’re not sure what those pills are, but the way he’s handling them, so casually, it feels like something you shouldn’t be witnessing. You stand there, paralyzed by the scene in front of you, unsure of what to do. You don’t want to intrude, but the anxiety building in your chest makes it hard to ignore the obvious signs of something troubling happening.

You stand frozen, unsure if you should say something, or if you should just leave and pretend like you didn’t see anything. But before you can make up your mind, Elvis's voice cuts through the thick air.

“What the hell do you want?” he growls, his tone sharp, and full of irritation. His eyes narrow at you, anger flickering behind them.

You jump back in surprise. “I— I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you stammer, your hands instinctively clasping together. “I just thought I should check on you, maybe—”

“Check on me?” Elvis interrupts, his voice rising. He slams his glass down on the table with a loud thud, causing you to flinch. “You’ve got no damn business checking on me! You’re here for one thing, and one thing only— to take care of Lisa. And that’s it, understand?”

His words hit you like a slap. The sharpness in his voice cuts through you, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. Your mouth opens to respond, but nothing comes out. Your heart is pounding in your chest, your body trembling under the weight of his words.

“I— I just thought I could help, but I didn't mean to see you like—” you whisper, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Help?” he spits, his words venomous. “You think I need help from you? You’re not here to ‘help’ me, darlin'. You’re here to watch my kid, to make sure she’s taken care of. You��re nothing more than a stupid nanny. Nothing more!”

The insult stings like a slap in the face. You want to argue back, to stand your ground, but it’s hard when you’re this shaken. Your breath hitches in your throat as his words cut through you, each one sinking deeper and deeper. You had hoped, naively, that you could have a more personal connection with him, but now it feels like that’s never going to happen.

Elvis stands up, towering over you, his expression twisted in anger. He steps forward, closing the distance between you. The air around you feels thick and suffocating as he grabs your arm, pulling you harshly toward the door.

“You’re not welcome here, d'ya hear me? Get the hell out of my house!” he shouts, his grip tightening around your arm as he shoves you toward the door.

The force of his push sends a shock of fear through you. You stumble back, your eyes wide with shock. “Mr.Presley, please—” you begin, but he cuts you off.

“I don’t want t'hear it! I’ve got no goddamn time for your pity, or your whining! You’re just here to look after Lisa—nothin' else! Now get out, before I make you leave!” He’s shouting now, his voice seething with fury.

Tears sting at the corners of your eyes as you struggle to regain your balance, the sting of his words cutting deep. You can’t believe this is happening. The man you’d been trying so hard to please all day, is now throwing you out of his house like you’re nothing. His hands are still gripping your arm, pushing you toward the door with alarming force.

“Please, Mr.Presley…” you beg, your voice shaky, so afraid of loosing your job the first day you got it, but he’s having none of it.

“Didn’t y'hear me?” he snarls, his face twisted in disgust. “You’re just a damn servant to me! That’s all you are. So get out of my damn house before I call security to throw you out!”

Your chest is tight with emotion as he shoves you toward the front door. You don’t have the strength to fight him. The tears you’ve been holding back fall freely now, but there’s no use. He doesn’t care.

With one last, hard push, he opens the door and practically forces you outside, slamming it shut behind you with a finality that echoes through the empty hallway.

You stand there on the doorstep, your body trembling. Your hands are shaking as you wipe your tears away, but it does nothing to stop the flood of emotions pouring out of you. How did things get so bad? Why did Elvis, the person you tried so hard to help, turn on you so cruelly?

Your mind is a mess of confusion and hurt. You had only wanted to be kind, to make things easier for Lisa, but instead, you’re treated like garbage. You had hoped that maybe, just maybe, Elvis would see the real you, see that you were trying to help him, too. But now, all you are is a nuisance in his eyes.

Hesitating for a moment, you turn and walk down the front steps. Every part of you is screaming to go back inside, to make things right, but deep down, you know it’s not going to happen. Not today. Not after the way he treated you.

You have no idea what tomorrow will bring, but as you walk away from the house, you wonder if it’s worth coming back at all.

to be continued...

[sk-touchthesun]

It has been a bit over a month since the first time I watched Dead Boy Detectives and I now have watched it from start to finish four times. Oops. I don't know how that happened—I certainly wasn't prepared for this level of love for a series.

Since I haven't really been in any fandoms or tumblr in, like... ten years or whatever, I wanted to write about why I fell in love with Dead Boy Detectives when I saw the series for the first time. I don't know if anyone's interested in reading a long-ish post, but in case you are, buckle up because this is going to be pure love and positivity from start to finish. It's mainly about Edwin and Charles, though.

I started watching the show without any background information and never having seen the Sandman either. I rotate streaming services and it was Netflix's turn. I read queer fiction quite a lot and watch queer movies and series as a hobby, and remembered someone mentioning Dead Boy Detectives.

The beginning on the series was intriguing enough already, but it was during this scene that I knew I was going to watch the entire thing:

This leads me to the reason I love the series so much: the carrying force of the story is the love Edwin and Charles have for each other, be it platonic or romantic. I'm a sucker for themes like found family and being loved as your authentic self because that's something I crave. I have always been more or less lonely because of social anxiety and struggling with social situations. Perhaps that's why stories containing those themes have such a profound effect on me each time.

Of course, the way the series combines elements of horror and comedy with heartwarming and wholesome sweetness is delightfully refreshing in itself. Dead Boy Detectives kept me glued to the screen so that I finished it in a day the first time I watched it. However, the characters are what makes the show so brilliant. I think the cast in general is phenomenal, but it's the love between Edwin and Charles that I felt most while watching.

This obviously is where I have to praise George Rexstrew and Jayden Revri for their acting. I think it's largely thanks to them that I love Edwin and Charles so much. Their characters' chemistry and the fond way Edwin and Charles interact with each other in the series is something I felt viscerally right from the beginning. It's obviously ingrained in the overall plot, but the love can also be felt in the smallest gestures. How many shows do you have where your favorite character dying is one of your favorite moments in the series because it's so sweet? (I'm sure you can deduce my favorite character from this...)

Personally, I also think that George Rexstrew and Jayden Revri's acting is particularly spellbinding during the moments their characters break down and show raw emotion. In an odd way the characters' suffering is what makes episodes like The Case of the Devlin House and The Case of the Very Long Stairway so brilliant. The characters' emotions during their most vulnerable moments are so tangible.

I know there has been talk about how season two would look like if the series was revived, and honestly, I think there's one crucial thing that should be kept as it is or the entire thing would be ruined: the carrying force of the show being that Edwin and Charles are willing to do anything to not to get separated.

I can't see any universe where someone becomes more important to the two main characters than what they're to each other. Charles says that Edwin is the only person he'd go to Hell for. We know how Edwin feels. The love is there already. If either of them had a long-lasting romance with someone else, the love interest would get two with the price of one. Equally important? Well—possibly. Love isn't finite. More important? Never.

I'd like to see Edwin and Charles get together, though. They're like an old married couple already and I can't imagine them being together with anyone else in the long run. At least the first season left things open enough for interpretation, with the cancellation and all.

Last but not least, it's a bit crazy that I only saw the show for the first time a bit over a month ago and was ready to splurge on a cameo. It was my birthday during the gameoden week and I got a birthday message! It was very sweet and has cheered me up ever since. I'm not sharing it here because I feel it's a bit personal with my birthday and all, but I loved it.

In case you ended up reading all this, thanks for reading my love letter for the show and the characters and the actors!

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Smutty dialogue and dirty talk

I was chatting with a good friend about dirty talk (as one does). We were discussing the things we like and dislike, the things we wish our partners would say, and the things that are absolutely not for us. And because of this, I was thinking about how tricky dirty talk is, not just in real life, but also in writing.

On occasion, people have DMed me to ask for advice on writing smutty dialogue. While I'm in no way an expert, I have written a fair amount of smut, and of course, I made my name writing this bit of filth, which is entirely dirty talk. So I do have at least some experience.

When I was a wee little DJ, I used to steal magazines from my older sister and hide with a flashlight to read the sex advice column, as curious little DJs are wont to do. I don't remember any of it EXCEPT for one column that has stuck with me for the last *cough cough* decades.

A reader requested advice, saying that their partner had asked them to talk dirty, and they were struggling with what to say. They said it felt unnatural and awkward, and they could never think of anything to say in the moment. The columnist came through with some truly excellent advice.

They suggested starting out simple: "I love the way your X feels in/on my Y."*

The columnist said that eventually the words would start to flow as they became more comfortable with talking in bed, but that the most important thing was just to be honest about how their partner made them feel. Honesty is the key to making dirty talk feel natural and authentic instead of forced and rehearsed. It's about connecting with your partner(s), not about putting on a performance.

And that's exactly how it works with writing, too. The key to writing great smutty dialogue, in my opinion, isn't to try to force it to be the dirtiest, most explicit thing ever (not that there's anything wrong with that). It's to just let your characters say how they feel in that moment.

It doesn't need to be a flowery, heartfelt declaration of eternal love; it can be as simple as, "Damn, you have an incredible [body part of choice]," or just feedback like, "Don't stop," "God, you feel good," "Harder," "I love the way you taste," "Do that again," or, "Right there, just like that." Don't underestimate the impact of a well-timed curse, either. And if a flowery, heartfelt declaration of eternal love is what feels right in the moment, go for it! It's your story, and you can write it however you want.

*Note that neither X nor Y have to always refer to genitalia or even necessarily to body parts. I'll be reblogging with examples, but I'm keeping this post reasonably SFW.

Sexy, smutty taglist:

@523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @merkitty49 @arcsimper5 @clio3kantarella

@cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @sunshinesdaydream

@littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu @marierg @idontgetanysleep @lonewolflupe

@moonlightwarriorqueen @dudewhynotthis @sleepycreativewriter @tcwmatchmakingau @littlemissbshine

@multi-fan-dom-madness @heavenseed76 @wizardofrozz @bobaprint @sweetcream-coldfoam

@skellymom @pickleprickle @trixie2023 @cw80831 @flyiingsly

@lightwise @swcowgal @vrycurious @thora-sniper @returnofthepineapple

@reader6898 @cdblake1565 @epicy0n @starstofillmydream @msmeredithrose

@totallyunidentified @eclec-tech @euphoriacafe @hipwell @kimiheartblade

@dangraccoon @transactivecybermemory @etod @ivyyyyy @somewhere-on-kamino

@burningnerdchild @saneabandoned @heidnspeak @maniacalbooper @rebell-ious

[sillyandquiteawkward]

I think it's valid to write/draw anya killing jimmy and other sorts of revenge art and stories but also I don't think anya would want to do that. I think it always comes back to the feel good moment of killing your abuser, plus with the irony of I'm a healer but... but anya really never wants to actively do harm to others. the only somewhat malicious thing she does is save curly to suffer hopelessly for months, and even then that can still be just be her trying to do the "right" thing. I think she's deeply aware of cycles of violence and she always is trying to see the best in people. I think even if she has violent revenge thoughts about jimmy, she'd never want to act on them and she would feel guilty about it.

I think I'd just like to see ppl try to make revenge art with anyas personality in mind. I think there's a lot to unpack there besides axe+head=everything is magically better and there's no trauma now :) killing jimmy won't make Anya feel better. she might feel safer, but she's still surrounded by men who don't care about her, and now she has to deal with having murder on her hands.

[district4loading]

One of your girls

Twice Sana!Sub x Female Reader!Dom

5k Words

Content Warning: smut, fingering, oral, strap-on, slight possessive/jealous reader, breeding kink, hair pulling

Minors DNI

A/N: This isn't my first time writing, I have a bunch of other random stories and smuts in my drafts. Feel free to ask me anything and request stuff. When I have the time I will work on introducing you guys to me and the things I will/won't write along with the groups I stan.

With that being said, please enjoy! It's mostly smut

-

“So then, am I one of your girls?”

-

"You know, I saw a headline the other day titled 'Sana of Twice rumored to have been in multiple relationships with women'" You spoke softly, still hearing whines and whimpers coming from the girl above you as you slid the pad of your middle finger through her slick folds "Well, it wasn't like an established article or anything, more so a Tik tok video with rumors that saesangs—"

Sana sighed desperately, she honestly didn't give a fuck about whatever you were on about now. You were laid flat on your belly between her legs, face and fingers oh so close to where she needed you to be right now and you were talking about one among her many gay rumors. How could you possibly be thinking about anything else right now but getting her off? It was really all you were good for anyways. As you kept on speaking, explaining how the rumors were basically baseless claims she cut you off "Uh? Y/n.. can - fuck - can you just.. please"

You stopped speaking, considering the idea that you really could've been doing something better with your mouth right now. So you hummed "Yeah sorry, I just thought it was funny because it's true and nobody believes it... some even say that you're the straightest member" You snickered, finding that term being associated with Minatozaki Sana—of all people—to be humorous.

Sana more so huffed, the noise coming out of her mouth bubbling with impatience "Well that's no mere coincidence, i'm careful and I know how to pick my girls... now please just - Ah Fuck!" The girl's sentence was cut off by a guttural moan which tore from her lips because like the asshole you were, you decide to actually do something while she was speaking. Sana would never complain about that though, the moment you finally slid your finger past her folds and into her hot entrance she was inexplicably satisfied by the sensation.

Her legs tried to close a bit but they ended up only squeezing you because you were in the way. "So then, am I one of your girls?" You questioned her. Now, it wasn't like you didn't assume that Sana probably had some sort of roster, how could you not? The girl was one amongst the most attractive k-pop idols in the industry so of course she had options.

You just wanted to be her best one.

"You know you are - mmh" Sana's eyes clamped shut the moment you curled your finger. You feared to push another in because of the way her hot walls hugged you. She was so tight, like she hadn't been fucked by anyone else before this in a while. Which made sense because the last time you saw her was maybe a month ago? You slowly pumped your fingers in and out, allowing her to feel the stretch of the digit as much as she could.

You merely hummed in response to what she said, "When was the last time you've had sex?" It probably wasn't wise to ask her questions like this when you were two knuckles deep inside of her but you were curious and it's sort of relevant.

"Fuck- I don't know... whens the last time you were here?" She managed to say the words properly without breaking or moaning which was impressive considering that each time you made it to the hilt, your finger brushed passed her g-spot. Another thing you noticed, that quite frankly made your ears perk, was that Sana hadn't had sex with anyone but you in the past month. "I haven't had much time to - God - you know... because of work" Her hips began to squirm.

You couldn't help but smile as you slid your ring finger inside, eliciting a sharp and higher pitched moan from Sana. "Is it because of work or the fact that nobody can fuck like me?" You teased picking up the pace a bit. Sana just threw her head back, struggling to tell you to shut up as she arched her back while you continued to stretch her out.

Then finally, it was the time you decided to actually put your mouth to a much better use. You dipped your head down and stuck your tongue out, flattening it against Sana's warm clit feeling it pulse and throb like an irregular heart beat. Now your head was really being squeezed between her slim thighs as she keened, a cute noise escaping her lips.

It was obvious she hadn't done this in a while and if you couldn't tell by what she said or how tight she was, you would've known by how reactive she had been. So sensitive and needy, twitching - hips bucking at every graze and eventual touch you offered to any part of her bare skin. You swirled your tongue around the bundle of nerves "Fuck - just like that - Ah! - don't stop, baby" Sana gasped with her hands fondling her own breasts, tweaking her stiff nipples which were still glossy from your saliva.

You hummed, sucking the warm bud in, taking care of her properly like you always did. With your fingers still repeatedly hitting her g-spot you knew she had to be right there. You made a mental note as her breathing increased and she began cursing over and over again. Small phrases like "Fuck" and "Shit" but in different combinations. Sometimes she would chant them one after the other or she'd just stick to repeating one. "Fuck - If you keep - oh God yes - You're - You're - shit - gonna make me fucking -"

Her eyes were wired shut now, just after she had gathered up the courage to raise her head to watch you. Now she was about to cum all over your fingers and in your mouth and you couldn't wait for it. Her taste was delicious in only the most filthiest ways. Since Sana had to take care of her body, being a k-pop idol and all, she loved to eat fruit which is why she always made for the sweetest meal. You were more so doing it for your pleasure and hers rather than just hers.

"Cumming... Cumming... I'm..." Sana was heaving now, words she tried to say not being able to come out. Instead she mouthed them, it was the best she could do. From what you could make out she was only just repeating the audible words she last uttered. Cumming. Then in the blink of an eye, her back was arched the highest it could go, her body shuddering and shaking as she moaned the loudest she has tonight. Well it was more of an adorable squeal, which you noticed by now that she only did when she was cumming hard.

She began to leak all over your fingers as you slowed them to help her ride out her orgasm. When her body collapsed back onto the bed, you knew she was done. So you withdrew completely, sliding your fingers out and crawling up her hot body. She smiled lazily, allowing you to leave kisses on her lips that she couldn't even begin to reciprocate. Sana tried though, kissing you back just enough to satisfy the both of you. "Satisfied?" You questioned Sana as you stared into her still lust filled eyes.

"mm-mm" She shook her head, you knew she would. There was really only one way that she could be truly 'satisfied' by you and that was when you were 6-8 inches inside, hitting all of her deepest spots. You dipped your head into the crook of her neck, leaving kisses and small sucks on the warm flesh. The salty flavor was intoxicating. "Get the...mm, in the drawer" She told you.

A smirk grew on your face, you knew exactly what she needed right now and after a month with no sex you couldn't blame her. All the more you were glad that the first person she called over when she finally had time was you. So you left one more kiss on Sana's neck and went into the bottom drawer by her nightstand. "Which one?" You questioned her, seeing that there were a few new additions to her collection of toys.

"Your choice"

That was all she said and it made a giddy feeling emerge inside of you. Sana wanted you to choose a toy to ruin her with. She should know not to put that kind of power into your hands. You were no sadist, but if she gave you an inch, you wouldn't ever hesitate to take a mile. So you picked up the black strap-on, the biggest one in the collection. Maybe almost the length of Sana's forearm with a girth that made the silicone look all too intimidating.

Sana's eyes widened, pupils blown as she saw what you picked and sure enough, a smirk grew on her face."You know, you look the prettiest like that" You told her as you put the attachment on. She was just watching you, sitting naked on her heels as you got ready.

"So i'm the prettiest when i'm about to get fucked is what you're saying?" She teased, faking as if she was offended. "Not when i'm on a magazine cover or performing or modeling? You know, that's crazy because those times are when I actually try to look pretty"

You shook your head after finally working your way through the straps "mm-mm, because all those things are for everybody else to see. I mean sure, you are drop dead gorgeous no matter what" You paused then climbed onto the bed and on top of the idol to which she gave no resistance to lay down and let you in between her legs. "But nothing compares to the complete and utter... raw... lust and desire in your eyes right now. The one that you only look at me with." You kissed her neck once "That along with that sexy smirk of yours... makes for the prettiest face ever"

Sana hummed ignoring the part where you said that she only looked at you with lust and desire. It wasn't true, but she decided to let you have that one. "I didn't think of it that way, why are you so poetic?" She giggled a bit.

You just shrugged your shoulders "No idea... you ready?" You asked as you lined the head of the toy up with her entrance.

"mm-hm, just be careful. It's been long and you decided to pick the biggest one" You nodded, then pushed your hips forward a bit and fuck - it's in. You heard a sharp wince escape Sana's lips and then a delicate moan followed it as she shut her eyes. So you leaned down, allowing her to wrap her legs around your waist and her arms around your back as you went further... deeper.

The way her face twisted up, eyebrows knitting together, pouty lips almost frowning. You didn't know what you were thinking before because this was indeed the prettiest she's ever looked. You didn't say it though, you just called her name softly, not moving any deeper "Sana?" Her name escaped your lips so easily. She opened her eyes and looked deep into yours "You okay?"

Sana nodded, humming in response "Yes, please keep going" She gave you the green light verbally so you pushed your hips forwards some more. Sana was making that face again and god you wished you could feel her inside. She probably felt so fucking good, you envied any man she's ever slept with because it had to have been a life changing experience.

You sighed "I wish I could get you pregnant" It really just came out, you didn't even realize you said it out loud until Sana started to giggle.

"Wait" She stopped you just to laugh a little harder. "You're about to fuck me and you're thinking about getting me pregnant?" She asked, still not believing the words that just came out of your mouth.

"Well, yeah. Isn't it fitting?"

"Yeah except you can't"

"I know, that's why I said it... well, I thought it, I didn't even mean to say it out loud" You muttered, causing Sana to laugh even harder at you. Another sigh falls from your lips, you felt a bit embarrassed by your sudden expression of affection. You knew Sana found it funny because that wasn't at all what this was. She wasn't yours, you weren't hers and it bothered you, a lot. So you decided to shut her up, fully bottoming out without warning.

A scream tore from her lips, the loudest of the night at the sudden assault. "Oh my god" She squeezed your body harder "I told you to be careful" She complained, knowing that she was gonna be sore later. You didn't care though, you were pissed because she was laughing at you.

"Shut up" You muttered before drawing back and sliding all the way back in. She moaned loudly, her eyes rolling back as you began thrusting your hips hard and deep at a steady pace. She was struggling to get a grip while you changed angles.

"Fuck" Thrust "You're" Thrust "Hitting my-" Thrust "Ah! Fuck." You did it on purpose, fucking her like this just to make her a dumb mess while she spoke. There was something uniquely satisfying at the way each of your thrusts pushed a single word out of her throat. It made you so wet, having this exceptionally beautiful girl under you like this. You felt the slick arousal collecting between your thighs - Fuck and not to mention the way the seat of the toy brushed up against your clit each time you made it to the hilt. 'I could cum like this' You told yourself, feeling butterflies erupting in your belly with another surge of arousal.

You leaned forwards, putting your mouth on hers as you kept moving your hips, thrusts still hard and deep. She loved it this way and you knew it, you knew her body so well by now. You were catching her enthusiastic moans and swallowing each wonderful sound with your mouth as you kissed her more. As expected you did most of the work, licking, sucking and biting at her swollen lips. You couldn't get enough of her and it seemed like she felt the same way about you with how she squeezed her legs around you.

'This has got to be my favorite toy' You thought to yourself, sighing as you felt the slippery friction attacking your sweet spot in all the right ways. Sana couldn't even tell that you were feeling it because she was too fucked out and dizzy to notice your irregular breathing or your pleasureful grunts. It was all a blur in her mind right now as she carved sweet red marks into your back.

You pulled back a bit, now she was holding onto your biceps as you looked down to watch where your bodies met. She was clenching, you could tell because of the slight resistance you felt upon drawing back. You leaned all the way back down, your lips next to her ears. "You're about to cum aren't you?" You teased "Bet you've been waiting for this - God - you've been waiting for me to come over and fuck you dumb"

"Ah- yes, yes, yes, yes" Sana chanted, gasping as she felt that hot coil in the pit of her stomach, a feeling that she'd been craving for so long and God it was happening—and it was happening while you were between her legs. "Pl-Plea-uh Please!" She began begging, what for? Your permission of course but you were feeling generous this particular night.

"Go ahead baby, be a good girl and cum for me, Sana" You used the term she loved to be called. It only got her that much closer as you rolled your hips in a rhythm, the same one that kept her legs shaking and her walls fluttering. "Fuck - look at you, so fucking pretty while you're getting ruined"

"I...I-I can't... I'm cumming, I'm cumming, I'm cumming—" Sana repeated the words over and over like a broken record until one more "I'm" and before she could even continue, the coil snapped and she was orgasming with her back rising to form a wonderful bow shape. As if she was being summoned by God himself and well—it definitely felt like she was. Her body shaking and stuttering as you kept the same pace which if you knew Sana you knew it was crucial in helping her ride it out.

When she stopped moving, and her moans and gasps reduced to tired whimpers you took it as a sign that her peak had tapered off. You kissed her sweetly on the lips as you slid all the way out, but you weren't done yet. "Roll over" You asked softly, noticing that look in her eye. She was so down for more—another thing you really liked about Sana. The girl could go rounds and rounds and rounds without being boring or getting tired.

Sana slowly but surely turned over so that she could be on all fours—or at least try to be—she lazily allowed her upper body to rest on the mattress and she was just how you liked her to be, face down ass up. You positioned yourself behind her and took the toy into your hand. Once hand squeezing her ass cheek while the other was dragging the tip up and down her messy cunt.

Needy whimpers escaped her lips and she was already trying to push back to achieve some sort of penetration, pressure—anything. This surprised you because you didn't expect her to be so needy for it this soon, but then again it's been a while so you couldn't blame her much. But goddamn she was so sexy when she got like this, the noises she made, the needy movements... all of it so, so sexy and it was all for you. "So needy" You smacked your teeth and let your hands rest on her slim waist, squeezing it for a moment.

"Y/n~" Sana whined your name and it sounded like music to your ears. "Please... Please do something" She begged. You found it so hot, you hadn't even asked her to but she was already begging for you to take her again. You slapped her ass, hard, watching the flesh jiggle while she moaned in response. She loved the stinging pain, as a matter of fact, she got high on it.

"You've got to be specific to get what you want.. Princess" You muttered, knowing it would make her gush and clench over nothing. It was embarrassing how well you knew her body and all the things that made her tick after what? just a few months of hooking up with her. So easy.

"Please—Please" Sana took some time to raise her head and turn back. The sight was one you could only thank God for giving you the eyes to witness. Her eyes were dark and hooded, pretty pink lips swollen, brown hair stuck to her face with the sweat. "I want you to fuck me with that toy, fill me up, pound me, use me... and don't stop until we're both finished" Her words as well as her tone was nothing short of filthy lust, the kind that you would only hear in a porno. You fucking loved it.

Smirking, you took the toy into your hand and nudged the tip into her entrance. She was still looking back and when your eyes met hers, you pushed your hips forwards nice and slow. You watched as her eyebrows began to knit, mouth forming an 'o' shape as she took the girthy toy inside. When you made it to the hilt, Sana's upper body collapsed back into the bed and the seat of the toy pushed against your clit in a way that made you gasp. "Fuck... this toy is gonna be the death of me" You almost whimpered out loud, the burning pleasure being way too much to handle.

"Yeah? I knew you'd like it" Sana mentioned, causing you to quirk your eyebrow.

"What? you've used it on someone before?" You questioned her, knowing that she was a bottom that only occasionally liked to switch depending on who she was with. But Sana mostly was the type to seek out dominant women so you were a bit confused.

"mm-mm, i spent the night with a friend a bit ago and she told me all about it" You tilted your head, remembering that she said she hadn't been fucked in a month, and the last time you were here this toy wasn't in the collection.

"That doesn't make sense, Sana"

"What?"

"Earlier you told me that it's been a month since you had sex"

Sana stammered a bit before actually responding to you with words "I mean like it was 3-4 weeks ago so it's basically been a month since then"

You slapped her ass again, this time a bit harder causing a strangled moan to escape her lips. "Was it three or four Sana?" You were beginning to get possessive, knowing that you had no right to but she'd still allow it because she thought it was hot when you got like this.

"Ow- Fuck Y/n does it matter?"

"Yeah, Four weeks is a month, three isn't, so which one is it?" You said lowly.

In reality it's been four weeks, but Sana liked where this was going so she lied. "Three" She stated, closing her eyes as she bit back a smile, bracing herself for a slap that never came. Instead she felt your rough hands gripping her waist, causing her to whimper a bit. Then you began to fuck her, listening to her moan uncontrollably and grip the sheets as you began at a pace way too fast for the small girl to handle. "Y/n! Baby- Fuck... I'm sorry" She whined, getting off on this more than you could ever know.

You paused for a moment and reached over, gathering up her wavy brown hair in a ponytail. You pulled her head up then began fucking her again, her body jolting forwards come each thrust. It was so easy, the way the silicone just slid in and out but you weren't thinking about that, your mind was plagued with a complete jealous anger that burned in your stomach. You were near to her ear at this point "I didn't fucking hear you" You gritted through your teeth.

It was difficult to stay dominant cause - fuck - this toy was really rubbing you in the right places and it felt amazing. But you needed her a sobbing fucked out mess under you before you even thought about cumming so you had to hold it all back. "I'm - Fuck... I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm—" She kept on apologizing in that whiny tone you loved. She repeated the apology so many times that it was almost comical.

"Sorry for what?"

"Sorry for lying" You hummed as if you wanted her to continue and when she didn't, you slapped her ass again, hard. It seemed to knock some good sense into her because she managed to find the words herself. "Sorry for being a dirty, lying, slut" She specified, absolute filth dripping from her words. You felt that same resistance inside again and that’s what told you that she was getting off on this. You didnt think it'd turn her on that badly but... shit it did.

"You're so fucking filthy, you know" You muttered, letting go of her hair which allowed her to collapse as she wanted to on the bed. "I know you're getting off on this... you probably lied on purpose, knowing that i'd fuck you like this, because you love it, you love the way I fuck don't you?"

"Fuck - yes!" Sana began gripping the sheets once more, leaking and gushing at how aggressive you were being right now. "I love how you fuck me - so hard, so deep - I can - fuck - I can feel it in my fucking guts the way you — god yes right there" She was an utter mess, mumbling and muttering random broken words as you pounded her into the bed.

"Yeah? Who's the best fuck you've ever had?" You were just stroking your ego now, knowing that it was you.

"Y-You, baby... you!" She admitted vocally, moaning loudly as you continued to utterly wreck her. "Just like that baby - Just like that - Just like— Ah!"

You leaned over, pounding your hips into Sana's ass until she lay flat on the bed, your fists pressed into the mattress near either side of her head. Her ass was so soft it felt like you were thrusting into a soft pillow. "Keep fucking — you're fucking me so good - ah - i'm - so fucking close"

"Hold it"

"I-I I can't" She whined, this wasn't good. Sana would normally try to be a good girl, cum when she was allowed to. But tonight you were fucking the absolute shit out of her, hitting spots that she didn't even know existed. She was seeing stars as the pleasure overtook her so she had absolutely no control when it came to holding it this time. When it was happening, it was happening and there was no stopping it. So the best thing she could do? Beg. Beg like the neediest slut in the world so you would give her permission in time.

"Please! Please! Let me cum, please baby" She whined, feeling her legs begin to tremble on their own. Oh God this isn't good- you were merciless, pounding into her just right. Even if you weren't, she beilieved that you had to be some kind of sadist. You knew that she wouldn't be able to hold it when you were fucking her like this but you still told her to. Only a sadist would.. "Fuck- wait... please - it's - it's - it's coming!"

This whole time, you've been holding it too, you were so fucking close. The thought that you were going to cum while you were inside of her, made everything feel ten times better. You began grunting louder and animalistic "Fuck- I'm right there baby" You moaned, feeling it coming.

Sana gasped at this, the noise coming out of her mouth filthy as she realized it, you were going to cum inside of her. That made butterflies erupt in the pit of her stomach where she was oh so close to letting go. "Pl-Please! Breed me - Breed me.. please - w-want your babies..." The poor girl was sobbing now, she was only doing her best to keep up.

But the words she was saying, begging you to breed her. "Fuck - You can cum" You muttered and just like that, with one more stroke and a strangled moan you were cumming. You were cumming while you were maybe 9 inches inside of her. To ride out your high, you kept grinding and then Sana was cumming too, screaming into the sheets as her body shook so recklessly.

Eventually you ground to a stop, leaning over Sana to leave sweet kisses on her sweaty shoulder, then down her spine. You were both out of breath but you loved to worship her perfect body any chance you got. "Y/n?" Sana called your name softly so you hummed in response, your tone gentle as well. "Let me buy you dinner some time"

[skimmingmilk]

i've just found out your tumblr has even MORe picket fence writing and im over the moon?? But also my heart was shattered with the back in time wip 😭😭😭 how does sonic find the strength to leave baby tails behind, how does he react when he sees tails again in his own timeline after having met sick abandoned baby tails??

Heheheh, yeah, there are some little fics or scenes I've written that I hesitate to put on AO3 sometimes (or just aren't complete enough to be a story on their own), so I like to throw them at Tumblr from time to time. Glad you found them! :D

Ohh, the back in time WIP... Not sure how much I can give away because of the chance that it's going to end up part of a bigger fic... but it'll still be a long while until I get around to posting that xD Maybe people will forget lol.

Potential future spoilers under the cut?

So! The way I see it playing out is that Sonic is going to find it in him to leave baby Tails behind because he knows they'll cross paths one day, the way they're supposed to and everything will play out from there. He knows he can't stay in the past and he can't take baby Tails to his present. Plus, Silver's with him and it probably wouldn't go over well to try and explain why it'd be a good idea to take baby Tails with him when it would negate pretty much everything Sonic and Tails experienced together since meeting on West Side Island or cause a split in the timeline where now there's a universe where Sonic never got to meet Tails because he wasn't there and now Sonic's time with have two Tailses. He knows that it can't happen.

But... Sonic still can't stop wondering about the little guy. Is he cold? Is he scared? Is he getting enough to eat? Is he lonely? Hurt? All the things he's not letting himself think about when it comes to his Tails (the 10 year old who's on his first solo adventure and basically gone as close to no contact as possible in order to "prove himself"). He projects all that onto the baby version of him because he knows Tails can handle himself (and that's not why he's worried about him, what he's uncomfortable with is the motive behind the journey). So he gets his hands on two Chaos Emeralds and goes back to check on baby Tails by himself. Just this once.

Except it doesn't end up being just once. Because there is this disconnect and distance between Sonic and Tails of the present, doubts that have arisen in the wake of Forces, Frontiers, and now Tails's absence, Sonic's drawn more and more to the past. Baby Tails smiles and laughs and he doesn't pull away from him and he likes to play and explore and he still needs him. It's just so easy for Sonic to make him feel better. Just by being there.

Also, because this is after Frontiers, going through cyberspace and the cyber corruption has opened the gates to Sonic's memories a bit and they're kind of leaking into his thoughts more and more. He's falling into the habit of ruminating, reliving moments and questioning choices he made, things he might've done wrong, could've done better. So that maybe Tails wouldn't feel like he needs to become a completely different person.

Present Tails won't listen to him, but baby Tails hangs onto every word. So maybe by being there... Tails might remember being loved and maybe the 10 year old won't only see the worst parts of himself when he looks in the mirror if Sonic can try again and show the younger version that he's worth something just as he is.

I think Sonic crosses paths with present Tails twice during all of this. The first conversation goes okay, but there's an awkwardness to it. But Sonic does try to make an effort to be more open with Tails in the hopes that maybe it will set a better example. And Tails is surprisingly receptive to it. So Sonic resolves to not go back to the past, because Tails seems to be doing okay after all. And he's reminded that he loves who his little brother is now. The good and the bad made him who he is, and would he really want to change that? Of course not!

Unfortunately, the second conversation doesn't go nearly as well...

So Sonic goes back to see baby Tails in the wake of it - not because he needs it, but because Tails clearly does - but when he arrives, the forest is burning and he can't find Tails anywhere...

[buckets-and-trees]

UM, HOW FUN WAS GETTING TO LIVE THROUGH THE DOCUMENTATION OF YOUR REACTIONS TO THIS CHAPTER?!

Thank you for taking me on that journey with you! 🥹

When I had this idea, it was all about Steve and reader. When I started writing it, I realized there would have to be other characters in their orbit constantly, and that's been kind of a fun challenge. I rarely care about shaping the ensemble - at least not with this much of a focus - but it's so many layers of story elements! Campaign team/barely any time to ever be alone, let alone alone time with each other. Campaign team in relation to the reader getting to know people - and some of them know about the arrangement, but most don't, and how that plays into things. Plus how they act toward each other around other people. I'm glad they're parts of the story that are standing out rather than just feeling like we're getting through them to get to a plot point.

And the kisses! Can you believe that wasn't even my original intent with including that scene? 🤣 It was getting Steve to do a TikTok/build up his feeling like the campaign is so showy + reader having another regular moment with Bucky and Sam, and then when I was in the middle of it, I was like, 'oh, wait... this is perfect...' Especially a dramatic kiss and then something more real. 🥹

And the debate prep scene was one that I've really been waiting to get to because it - again - was doing so much for me in terms of the plot development for them. Reader going after Steve instead of Bucky or Sam, Steve being pushed, Steve somewhat losing it, Steve saying some really poignant pieces, and Reader recognizing his frustrations and soothing that a little bit, but also calling him on stepping up and not falling into blaming others because he has to harness that ability (and logistically his right by his role) to captain this ship.

...

And then Josh Connor.

Okay, first, I didn't remember that I named that reporter Andy so I dom't think it's in relation to Andy Barber... (truthfully, I was thinking about a possible Andy x Reader in relation to this campaign, so... I think I was just picking a normal name)

And then Josh.

👀

I won't answer ALL your questions there because... I think you don't TRULY want to be spoiled, plus so much of it will be answered at the beginning of the next part. But I will say that of course Pepper knew.

And because I managed a diabolical mention that went under the radar...

I wanted to leave the tiniest breadcrumbs so that when we got here, it would likely be a 99% shock, but something I knew we were moving toward the whole time. MWAHAHAHAHA!

DON'T REVOKE OUR MARRIAGE LICENSE! I think the way things will unfold will be acceptable. No one will need to sharpen any knives, but there might be some wringing of hands because it's not nothing obviously.

Love you endlessly, and appreciate all your sharing here! 🩵

Red, White & True: DC, Tampa, Athens [5/?]

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader, Peter Parker, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes Word Count: 6.1k Summary: Late September means things are only accelerating as election day grows closer. Steve is picking up momentum in the polls, and things heat up on multiple fronts before you hit a bump that may shake up the progress between you and your husband.

Content/Warnings: marriage of political convenience, slow burn

Notes: You get another West Wing cameo in this chapter (but totally unnecessary to have ever watched the show). This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

Previous Chapter | Series ↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[SEPTEMBER 26 - WASHINGTON, DC]

The late September sun streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the campaign's official DC headquarters, casting long shadows across the bustling office space. You're leaning against a desk, watching with amusement as Peter Parker, the youth outreach coordinator who's also become the campaign's unofficial creative director of the TikTok segment of the social media team, attempts to explain the concept for the video to Steve.

"Okay, Cap," Peter says, his enthusiasm palpable as he holds up his phone. "We're going to do a quick transition video. It's super easy, I promise!"

Steve stands in the middle of the room, looking slightly uncomfortable but determined. He's dressed casually in jeans and a plain white t-shirt, a stark contrast to his usual campaign attire. The goal is to remind the voters that Steve is relatable to the everyday American at the end of the day.

Steve nods, a mixture of bemusement and determination on his face. "Alright, Peter. Walk me through it."

Peter's face lights up. "Okay, so you're going to start in your casual clothes, then you'll spin around. As you spin, we'll cut and you'll change into your suit. When you finish the spin, you'll be in full Captain America mode, then we’ll have you spin and change one more time, and we’ll end the video with you in your presidential get up."

"And this will... resonate with young voters?" Steve asks, raising an eyebrow.

You can't help but chuckle. "It's about showing your versatility, Steve. From everyday guy to national hero to the next president in the blink of an eye."

Steve shoots you a playful glare. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one spinning like a top."

Peter positions Steve in front of the camera. "Okay, Cap. Just spin naturally, and we'll take care of the angles and editing.”

As Steve prepares for his first take, Bucky saunters into the room, a smirk playing on his lips. He sidles up next to you, crossing his arms as he watches his best friend awkwardly position himself in front of the camera.

"I'm sure Steve must be loving this," Bucky murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

You nod, suppressing a chuckle. "It's written all over his face."

Indeed, Steve's expression is a fascinating mix of determination and mild discomfort, his brow is furrowed in concentration.

The rapport that’s been developing with Bucky over the last few weeks has also been nice. It’s its own brand of friendship, and it’s not rock solid yet, but it’s growing.

"Alright, Cap," Peter calls out, phone at the ready. "On three. One... two... three!"

Steve begins to spin, his movements a bit stiff in the first take.

Peter's enthusiastic voice cuts through the air. "That was great, Cap! Let's try again,” he encourages, not leaving a beat for Steve to feel awkward or like he’s done it wrong. You can tell his approach will make all the difference with Steve.

As Steve prepares for another take, you can't help but admire his willingness to step out of his comfort zone. It's one of the things that's made him such an effective candidate - his ability to adapt and connect with people across generations.

"Okay, this time, try to relax a bit more," Peter suggests. "Just have fun with it!"

Steve spares a glance at you and Bucky, then takes a deep breath, shaking out his arms. "Right. Fun. I can do fun."

Bucky snorts beside you. "This ought to be good."

As Peter counts down again, Steve starts his spin. This time, his movements are smoother, more natural.

"Perfect!" Peter exclaims. "That's the one. Now, let's get you into your tac suit for the next part."

Steve nods, heading towards the makeshift changing area set up in the corner of the room. As he disappears behind the partition, Bucky leans in closer to you.

"You know, I never thought I'd see the day when Steve would be doing social media stunts," he says, his voice a mix of amusement and pride. "He's come a long way from the kid who could barely talk to girls in Brooklyn."

You smile, picturing a young Steve Rogers, all skinny limbs and earnest determination. "I bet he was endearing," you say.

Bucky chuckles. "Oh, he was. A real charmer. Couldn't string two words together around a pretty dame, but he had a heart of gold." He pauses, his expression growing more serious. "It's good to see him like this, you know? Engaged with the world, trying new things and connecting with people again. For a while after the Blip, I worried he’d ride off into the sunset forever before the sunset was even really here. We’re out of the century we were supposed to live in, but we’re still here, y’know? Didn’t think it would be this, but it’s not all bad. Pepper wasn’t wrong in choosing him for who he is inside.”

You nod, understanding. “When I met with her about the campaign, she’d sent me the policy materials, the plans, the opposition research detailing his strengths and weaknesses as a candidate, and I was on board to take any position she offered me on the campaign team. I never imagined working on a presidential run, but her vision, her approach? I knew I wanted to be part of it.”

Bucky arches an eyebrow. “I thought… wait…” he’s mulling over what you said. “So, when you came in, you didn’t know she wanted you to marry Steve?”

You laugh and shake your head, “Oh, no! Because that would have been crazy! Who would agree to that?”

Bucky's eyes widen slightly at your revelation. "But you just... agreed on the spot when she proposed it?"

You pause, considering how to respond. The truth is, it had been a whirlwind decision, one that you sometimes still can't believe you made. "Not exactly on the spot," you say carefully. "But...pretty quickly, yeah. It was a lot to take in, but something about it just felt right, you know?"

Bucky nods slowly, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I get it. Steve has that effect on people. Makes you want to follow him into any fight, even if it's not your own."

Before you can respond, Sam walks in, eyebrows raised at the scene before him. "How’re things going here? I hear we’re starting a dance troupe?"

Bucky chuckles. "Social media campaign. Apparently, the kids these days like watching people spin around and change clothes."

Sam shakes his head, a grin on his face. “Glad I’m not going to miss it.”

“I’m suggesting you go in as back up dancer.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Barnes! You know I’d do it!”

You laugh at the easy banter between Steve’s two best friends, but then the man himself emerges from behind the partition, now clad in his tactical suit. The sight of him in the red, white, and blue outfit isn’t new, but as it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him dressed as Captain America in person, it unexpectedly takes your breath away a little.

Steve takes his position again, looking more at ease now in his familiar uniform. "How's this, Peter?" Steve calls out, adjusting the shield on his arm.

Peter gives him a thumbs up and starts the countdown. This time, Steve's spin is confident and fluid, ending with a slight smirk that's pure Captain America.

"Nailed it!" Peter cheers. "Okay, one more outfit change and we're done."

“Hang on!” Sam calls out. His eyes light up as he looks between you and Steve, a grin spreading across his face. "We've got a golden opportunity here."

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"

Sam rubs his hands together. "Picture this: Captain America, in full uniform, getting a kiss from his lovely wife. It's the perfect Instagram moment!"

Steve's eyes widen slightly, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "Sam, I don't think-"

"No, no, hear me out," Sam interrupts, warming to his theme. "We've been pushing the whole 'relatable Steve' angle, right? Well, what's more relatable than a guy getting a kiss from his wife? Plus, it ties in the Cap persona.”

Peter's face lights up at the suggestion. "Oh man, that's genius! The engagement would be off the charts!"

Steve looks slightly uncomfortable, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and you don’t know how to feel about it either. "I don't know, guys. Isn't that a bit... much?"

Bucky chimes in, a smirk playing on his lips. "Come on, give the people what they want."

“Et tu, Brute?” you direct this to Bucky, not at all surprised at the enthusiasm from Sam and Peter, but genuinely shocked he’s jumping on board as well.

Sam turns to you, his expression a mix of excitement and mischief. "What do you say? Want to break the internet with a kiss from Captain America?"

You hesitate, feeling a mix of emotions. On one hand, the idea of kissing Steve - even for a staged photo - sends a flutter through your stomach. On the other, you're acutely aware of the artificiality of the situation and the potential implications for the campaign.

You glance at Steve. His expression is unreadable, but you can see a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.

Sam, sensing your hesitation, softens his approach. "Look, I know it might seem a bit much, but think about it. We've been working so hard to show Steve as both the hero and the everyday man. This could be a perfect blend of both."

Peter nods enthusiastically. "I think a good candid shot would be a great way to humanize the campaign. Show that even Captain America has a soft side."

You look back at Steve, and he gives a small nod. You see a mix of emotions in his eyes - uncertainty, but also a hint of something else. Trust, perhaps. "If you're okay with it, I am."

"I’m good," you agree, your heart rate picking up slightly.

Sam claps his hands together. "Great! Peter, get ready with that camera."

As Peter positions himself, you step closer to Steve. He reaches out, gently placing his hands on your waist. The tactical suit feels cool under your fingertips as you place a hand on his chest. You can feel the slight tension in his muscles.

"Ready?" Steve murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

You nod, managing a small smile. "Let’s do this," you reply once more because this is its own ‘public appearance’, and so the customary exchange only seems fitting.

Steve’s hands move from your waist around to your back, and he takes a deep breath, looking into your eyes.

You stop breathing for a moment, suspended there in his arms.

“Kiss her, punk!” Bucky shouts, and the electric moment is broken, but you both laugh, and then Steve dips you dramatically and kisses you soundly as you clutch his shoulders. The three men cheer enthusiastically and cat call you when the kiss goes on just another moment or two.

As Steve stands you back up, you both burst into laughter, the tension of the moment dissolving into genuine mirth and camaraderie. His arm is still around your waist, steadying you as you regain your balance. The warmth of his body radiates through the tactical suit, and you find yourself leaning into him slightly, your soft, round body pressing into his hard muscles.

"So, Peter," Steve calls out, his voice still tinged with amusement, "did we nail that shot, or do you need us to try again?" There's a playful glint in his eye as he says this, and you can't help but grin up at him.

Peter, looking slightly flustered but undeniably excited, nods enthusiastically. "Oh yeah, Cap! That was perfect! The internet is going to go crazy over this!"

You start to step away, ready to return to your spot by the desk, but Steve surprises you by gently pulling you back, his arm wrapping around your waist once more. The room seems to fall away as he gazes into your eyes, a softness in his expression that you've rarely seen before. Time slows as he leans in, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek.

His touch is feather-light, his calloused thumb brushing across your cheekbone with a tenderness that makes your breath catch. The scent of him envelops you - a mixture of leather from the suit, a hint of aftershave, and something uniquely Steve.

Your heart races as Steve leans in, his breath warm against your lips. For a moment, you forget about the cameras, the campaign, everything except the man in front of you.

Steve's lips brush yours, soft and tentative at first. It's different from the performative kiss moments ago - this feels real, intimate. You respond instinctively, your hands sliding up his chest to rest on his shoulders. The kiss deepens, and you feel a warmth spreading through your body.

Suddenly, you're jolted back to reality by the sound of a throat clearing loudly.

You and Steve break apart, both slightly breathless. The room crashes back into focus, and you're acutely aware of the others watching. Sam has a knowing smirk on his face. Peter looks like he might explode from excitement.

"Well," Sam says, breaking the silence. "I think we've got more than enough material for social media now."

You step back from Steve, feeling the heat creep up your neck. Steve clears his throat, looking slightly flustered himself.

"Right," he says, his voice a bit rough. "I should, uh, go change for the final spin shot."

As Steve disappears behind the partition again, you catch Bucky's eye. He gives you a subtle nod, his expression unreadable. You're not sure what to make of it, but there's no time to dwell on it as Peter starts setting up for the final shot.

You return to your spot by the desk and try compose yourself. Your lips still tingle from the kiss, and you can't shake the memory of Steve's touch.

Bucky sidles up next to you, his voice low as Sam and Peter talk next to you. "That was quite a show," he murmurs, a hint of amusement in his tone.

You glance at him, unsure how to respond. "It's all part of the job, right?" you say, aiming for nonchalance but not quite hitting the mark.

Bucky gives you a long look, then nods slowly. "Right. The job."

Before you can say anything else, Steve emerges from behind the partition, now dressed in one of his presidential suits - a sharp navy number that accentuates his broad shoulders. You can't help but admire how he carries himself. He exudes a quiet confidence, as ever, a perfect blend of the everyday man and the leader of the free world.

"Alright, Cap," Peter calls out, "let's nail this final spin!"

Steve takes his position, and as he begins to turn, you find yourself holding your breath. The transformation is mesmerizing - from casual Rogers to Captain America to Presidential Candidate, but all of them undeniably Steve.

[SEPTEMBER 27 - TAMPA, FLORIDA]

The campaign has rented out an entire floor of a hotel for debate prep, transforming the spacious suites into makeshift war rooms as Tampa provides some key and convenient access to key southern cities by plane. Maps, charts, and policy briefings cover every available surface, and the air hums with the energy of a team on a mission.

Jake Sullivan, Steve's chief strategist, has pulled out all the stops for this crucial phase of debate preparation. He's brought in Amy Gardner, a seasoned political operative known for her sharp wit and take-no-prisoners approach. Her presence adds an extra edge to the already intense atmosphere. You watch as Amy commands the room, even though she sits rather casually in an armchair ten feet from Steve, who stands behind a makeshift podium.

Her presence adds an extra edge to the already intense atmosphere. You watch as Amy paces the room, firing off rapid-fire questions at Steve, who stands behind a makeshift podium.

"What's your plan for addressing climate change?" Jake asks, his voice stern.

Steve responds confidently, "We need to transition to clean energy sources while also supporting workers in traditional energy sectors. My plan includes..."

Amy cuts him off, her tone brusque. "Too long. You've got 60 seconds max. Hit the key points and move on."

Steve nods, taking a deep breath. "Right. Clean energy transition. Support for affected workers. Immediate action on emissions reduction."

“Too succinct,” she says.

Steve frowns, clearly trying to find the right balance. Squaring his shoulders, he goes again. "Our climate plan has three key components: First, an aggressive transition to clean energy sources like wind and solar. Second, robust support and retraining for workers in affected industries. And third, immediate action to reduce emissions across all sectors. This isn't just about saving the planet - it's about creating jobs and securing America's energy independence for generations to come."

Amy nods approvingly. "Better. Now, pivot to how this contrasts with your opponent's stance."

Steve's brow furrows in concentration. "Unlike my Republican opponent, who continues to deny the reality of climate change, my plan acknowledges the crisis we face while also prioritizing American workers and innovation. We can't afford to stick our heads in the sand any longer."

"Decent," Amy says, her tone softening slightly.

“Only decent?”

“You didn’t address the Democrats’ policy. Your battle is to convince enough voters in America to break with over two hundred years of choosing between red or blue.”

You can see Steve is fighting back a sigh of frustration.

"Mr. Rogers, your opponent claims your lack of formal political experience makes you unqualified for the presidency. How do you respond?"

Steve takes a moment, his brow furrowed in concentration. "My experience may not be traditional, but it's been forged in the crucible of protecting this nation and its values. I've led teams through impossible situations, made tough decisions with global consequences, and always put the American people first. That's the kind of leadership experience that truly matters."

Amy nods, but doesn't let up. "Good, but tighten it up. You need to hit harder on your unique qualifications. How do you respond to critics who say your experience is outdated?"

"I'd say that my unique perspective allows me to see both where we've been and where we need to go," Steve begins, his voice steady. "I've seen this country at its best and its worst. I understand the challenges we face because I've lived through similar ones before. But I also understand the incredible potential of our future because I've seen how far we've come."

You can’t help but feel inspired by that answer, but Amy's eyes narrow, her expression sharpening. "Not bad, but you're still playing it too safe. Your opponents will come at you hard. Let's ramp this up."

She stands and begins pacing in front of Steve like a shark. "Mr. Rogers, your critics say you're nothing more than a science experiment gone right. How can you claim to represent the average American when you're literally superhuman?"

Steve's jaw tightens, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. "I may have enhanced abilities, but my values and my heart are as human as anyone's. I grew up in Brooklyn during the Great Depression. I know what it's like to struggle, to feel powerless. The serum didn't change that part of me."

Your heart swells, but again Any interjects again.

"Weak," she says, her voice cutting. "You're not connecting. Try again."

Your mouth drops open slightly. That was powerful. You know it was.

Steve takes a deep breath, his knuckles whitening as he grips the podium. “I’m not a monkey on a unicycle.”

“Well, what a great start. No one wants a monkey in the White House,” she deadpans.

“I don’t need this. We did just fine in the first debate without you,” Steve nearly growls.

“Oh, I didn’t know we were aiming for just fine, I thought you wanted to win.”

Steve's eyes flash with a mixture of anger and frustration. The tension in the room is palpable, like a rubber band stretched to its breaking point. You can see the muscles in his jaw working as he grinds his teeth, trying to maintain his composure.

"I'm not here to play games or put on a show," Steve says, his voice low and controlled, but with an undercurrent of steel. "I'm here because I believe in this country and what it can be. I've fought for it, bled for it, and yes, even died for it. So don't tell me I'm not connecting."

Amy opens her mouth to retort, but Steve cuts her off.

"I've seen this nation at its best and its worst," Steve goes again, his voice growing louder, more impassioned as he speaks. "I've watched it rise from the ashes of the Great Depression, triumph over fascism, and push the boundaries of human achievement. But I've also seen it torn apart by fear, prejudice, and greed."

His eyes blaze with an intensity that seems to electrify the air around him. The room falls silent, everyone transfixed by the raw emotion in his words.

"I may have been enhanced by science, but my heart, my values - they come from growing up as a scrawny kid in Brooklyn who couldn't stand by and watch bullies win. They come from the men and women I fought alongside, who gave their lives for the ideals this country stands for."

Steve's fist comes down on the podium with a resounding thud, causing several people to jump.

"I'm running for president not because I think I'm better than anyone else, but because I believe in the promise of America - a promise that's been broken too many times for too many people. I've seen what this country can do when we come together, when we fight for what's right. And I'm here to tell you, we can do it again."

Steve's voice rings out, filled with passion and conviction. The room is dead silent, everyone hanging on his every word.

"So no, I'm not a traditional politician. I don't have decades of experience playing political games or making backroom deals. What I have is a lifetime of standing up for what's right, of putting others before myself, of believing that we can always be better. I'm running because I believe in the power of ordinary people to do extraordinary things when given the chance."

He pauses, his chest heaving slightly as he looks around the room. The silence is deafening, everyone ensnared by the raw power of his words.

"That's what this campaign is about," he says, his voice softening but losing none of its intensity. "It's about reminding every American that they have the power to shape this nation's future. That their voice matters, their dreams matter, this country over politicians and political agendas. It’s not a show to me.”

Steve strides away from the podium and walks out, and no one stops him. No one even moves until the weighted door to the suite swings closed again. Jake and Elsa begin conferring. Amy seems unconcerned. You’re sitting with Bucky and Sam, who exchange a look, and Bucky moves to stand, but you’re quicker.

“Let me go after him,” you find yourself saying, surprised at how fast you were to seize this situation, almost like a natural instinct.

You hurry out of the room, scanning the hallway for any sign of Steve. You catch a glimpse of his broad shoulders disappearing around a corner and quicken your pace to catch up.

"Steve!" you call out, your voice echoing slightly in the empty corridor.

He stops, his back still to you, shoulders tense. As you approach, he turns slowly to face you. The fire in his eyes has dimmed, replaced by a weariness that tugs at your heart.

"Hey," you say softly, closing the distance between you. "That was... intense back there."

Steve runs a hand through his hair, letting out a long breath. "I shouldn't have lost my temper like that. It's just..." He trails off, shaking his head.

You reach out, placing a hand on his arm. "It's okay. Amy was pushing hard. Maybe too hard."

He looks down at your hand, then up to your face. “I’m fine.”

“I think you’ve told everyone you’re fine every day of your life, Steve Rogers, and no one needs to exist like that.”

Steve cocks his chin slightly. “But the President of the United States should have it together, shouldn’t they? People want a leader they can trust.”

You smile, but it’s not a happy smile, and his expression matches yours.

“Can I ask…?” you venture cautiously.

He nods. “Wife privileges. You can ask whatever you want. Wife duties, probably, to ask me questions I don’t want to hear.”

Wife. A flutter flares in your stomach, but you force yourself to concentrate on the moment, furiously tamping down your reaction.

He resumes walking down the hallway, but more slowly this time, and you fall into step with him as you pursue your curiosity. “A monkey on a unicycle is an oddly specific and highly uncommon comparison to bring up. Is that some reference from your time?”

Steve huffs and his eyes fill with a mix of nostalgia and resentment as he begins to speak. His voice is heavy with emotion as he remembers his past. “I used to sketch a lot when I was young. We didn't have much during the depression, but my ma always managed to scrimp and save enough to buy me a notebook for Christmas or my birthday. It stuck with me up through joining the Army.”

His expression turns somber as he continues, "And after the serum changed my body but I was put on tour to encourage people to buy bonds, it just felt...underwhelming. Discouraging. I knew I could be doing more, making a real difference. But I did what I could - I knew raising money still helped.”

You reach the end of the hallway and stand next to each other, looking out the window.

“When they sent us out to Europe to entertain the troops, it only got worse. The last day I performed, for the 107th regiment, I was heckled and booed off stage."

Steve's hands clench into fists at his sides, "I drew a silly picture of a monkey riding a unicycle; it felt like that's all I was worth to them - just another pawn in their production."

You want to reach for his hand, but it doesn’t seem like the moment. So you simply continue to listen.

“That ended up being the last day I performed a show. I found out part of the company had been captured, stuck behind enemy lines. I disobeyed direct orders, found the men, saved Bucky. After that, everything finally changed, and we got to go to work, doing good, fighting Nazis and Hydra.”

A slight smile tugs at Steve's lips as he finishes his story, "I never wanted to feel like that monkey again. But the closer we get to election day, the more this feels like just a production.”

You stay silent for a moment, mulling over the pieces of his past and the feelings he’s just shared. This isn’t an easy conversation, and it’s not the conversation you thought you would have coming out here, but you’re grateful the two of you are having it together.

You aren’t by any means a seasoned politician either, but you had seen and had to at some points play at politics in your own work. “It’s all a show, there’s no denying that. But you’re not the monkey unless you sit back and let that be the reality.”

“How do you figure that?”

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts before responding. "Steve, you knew from the beginning that this campaign would be a production. You agreed to it - all of it. Including," you gesture between the two of you, your voice softening, "this arrangement. Marrying a woman you'd never even met before."

Steve's eyes meet yours, a flicker of recognition passing through them. You continue, your voice gentle but firm.

"You didn't do all this just to be a figurehead or a puppet. You did it because you want to be president. You want to be the one steering the strategy, calling the shots, making real change." You pause, making sure he's really listening. "This campaign isn't just about winning an election. It's preparation for the presidency itself."

You turn to face him fully, your eyes never leaving his. "This campaign, as frustrating and exhausting as it can be, is its own kind of preparation for the presidency. Think about it - you're dealing with conflicting advice, responding to the platforms from the candidates and how they overlap and differ from your own, connecting directly with the people across the country, making tough calls on what is and is not a priority.”

Steve listens intently, his brow furrowed in concentration as he considers your words. You can see the wheels turning in his mind, processing this perspective.

"You're right," he says finally, his voice quiet but firm. "I did agree to all of this." He runs a hand through his hair, a habit you've noticed he has when he's deep in thought. "I just want it to mean something. To be more than just sound bites and photo ops."

You nod, understanding his frustration. "It does mean something, Steve. Every interaction you have, every speech you give, every policy you propose - it all matters. You're not just going through the motions. You're shaping the conversation, influencing people's thoughts and beliefs about what this country can be."

Steve's eyes meet yours, a mix of gratitude and something deeper there.

"She’s right, Rogers,” a voice behind you makes you both jump and turn.

“This isn't just about winning,” Amy emphasizes. “It's about learning how to navigate the complexities of leading a nation, finding your presence as the leader of the free world, as commander in chief, winning the trust of the American people.

“The debates, the press conferences, the tough decisions you'll have to make as president - they won't always be fair or comfortable. That’s why I pushed you. You won’t answer every debate question like that, but I needed to know you could go there. That’s the kind of president America wants, but they don’t know it until they see it. If you can shake them to their bones, you’ll change hearts and minds.”

Steve smiles at her half in kindness, half in disbelief. “You say all of that pretty casually.”

Amy shrugs and returns the smile. “Because it’s true. I’m done beating you up now that I know you can go the rounds. If you want me to leave, I will, but I’m game to stay if you’re game for slightly less intense verbal sparring.”

“Oh, I can do this all day.”

[SEPTEMBER 28 - ATHENS, GEORGIA]

The campaign plane hums with activity in the minutes before take off. This cabin is filled with members of the press corps, their laptops open and fingers poised over keyboards, eager for any morsel of information they can turn into their next headlines.

Steve looks almost relaxed. His tie is loosened and sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. The energy from the successful event you just wrapped up at the University of Georgia still lingers in the air. This was the fourth event of its kind - a town hall format called College Q&A limited to students and granting them access to dialogue with Steve. You can't help but feel a sense of pride as you recall how he connected with the students, his earnest answers and quick wit seeming to win over even the most skeptical audience members.

It’s become routine that Steve always takes questions from the press corps when he boards the plane before heading to the campaign team cabin, and he’s truly at ease with them in this interaction.

“We’ll take one more,” the campaign spokesperson announces to let both Steve and the reporters know it’s almost time for take off.

“Andy,” Steve calls on one of the familiar faces - the reporter from The Washington Post.

“Yes, Captain, do you have any response to Jeff Connor’s comments about your relationship with Mrs. Rogers?”

Steve's whole demeanor immediately turns serious, his jaw clenching. "I haven't heard Connor's specific comments, so I can't respond directly. My relationship with my wife is personal, and it's not up for debate or speculation."

He pauses, his eyes scanning the cabin before continuing. "What I will say is that she has been an incredible partner, both personally and for this campaign. Her intelligence, compassion, and dedication inspire me every day to be a better person and a better leader."

Steve's gaze softens a fraction as he glances in your direction. "I'm grateful she agreed to take this journey with me."

The press corps erupts with follow-up questions, but Jake holds up a hand. "That's all for now, folks, you know they won’t take off until we’re all seated and we don’t want to miss our take-off window. Thank you."

You, Steve, and the rest of your staff head into the first campaign cabin, and as soon as the door is shut, the atmosphere shifts. The professional masks slip away, replaced by a mix of concern, curiosity, and irritation. Jake immediately pulls out his phone, you assume to get the quote in question.

Elsa, your communications director, is already pulling out her laptop as she settles into a seat across from Steve. "That was the perfect response back there. Quick and heartfelt. It'll play well, especially given the context of Connor's comments."

Your personal aide Sophia is already handing you a tablet to read the quote. "Here, ma’am. It came out during the Q&A, and everyone got wind of it as we were boarding the plane."

You take the tablet, your eyes quickly scanning the headline: "Jeff Connor Speaks Out: 'I Hope They're Happy Together'" The article features a quote from Connor: "I wish them both the best. Marriage isn't easy, especially in the public eye. I just hope they've found happiness together."

You pass it over to Steve and then chew on your lip, pulling out your own phone.

It only takes him a moment to read as well. "Thanks,” Steve's brow furrows as he loosens his tie further and passes the tablet back to Sophia. “This seems fine, unless I’m missing something. But who is this guy, and why would we care what he thinks of our marriage more than anyone else?"

A beat of silence falls over the cabin. You can feel the weight of several pairs of eyes on you, a mixture of surprise and shock in their gazes.

“Okay, I’m clearly the only one who doesn’t know,” Steve concedes, a shade of irritation bleeding through his tone, “Anyone care to enlighten me?”

You take a steadying breath, then look up at Steve and say, “Jeff Connor is my former husband.”

next part: coming 11/29

I'll just say that I've been waiting for this chapter in the story almost from the beginning. 😌

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[flowerchild28]

Can you please write a Louis imagine based on the song "Midnight Rain" by Taylor Swift?

sure love i hope you like it :)

Midnight rain

Louis Tomlinson imagine

Warnings: none

1.2k

The rain tapped softly against the window, a gentle rhythm that matched the beat of your restless thoughts. It was past midnight, the world outside cloaked in a moody darkness only broken by flickering streetlights. You sat on the edge of your bed, knees pulled to your chest, staring at the small shoebox in front of you. It was filled with memories—concert tickets, Polaroid photos, a wristband from that music festival. Each piece was a fragment of a story you had lived with Louis.

You hadn’t thought of him in a long time. Well, not like this. The kind of thinking that twisted your heart, made you question the choices you’d made all those years ago. But tonight, something in the air—maybe the rain or the silence—had drawn you back to him.

It was Louis’ laugh you remembered first, that warm, raspy sound that could fill a room and make you feel like you belonged. He had been your sunshine, lighting up the dim corners of your life with his effortless charm and relentless optimism. You loved him fiercely, but you were different people, with different dreams. That was what had led to the goodbye that still lingered in the back of your mind like an unfinished melody.

Back then, you were all ambition and plans. You had a career mapped out, a city in your sights, and a hunger to become something bigger than the small-town life you’d both grown up in. Louis, on the other hand, had wanted stability. He craved a quiet life away from the spotlight, a home filled with love and laughter where the two of you could grow old together.

“I’ll wait for you,” he had said that night, his blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “But I won’t hold you back. If you need to chase this dream, I get it, love. I just hope... I hope you know what you’re giving up.”

You had cried too, your heart shattering even as you forced yourself to walk away. You told yourself it was the right decision, that you couldn’t stay in a place where you felt like you were shrinking. But no matter how many miles you put between yourself and that small town, Louis was a constant echo, his voice a ghost that haunted the quiet moments.

Now, years later, the shoebox was evidence of a love you’d once known but tried to leave behind. You reached for a photo on top of the pile—a candid shot of Louis, grinning at you from across a picnic blanket. His messy hair caught the golden light of sunset, and his laugh seemed to leap out of the frame, pulling you back to that summer day.

A knock at your door startled you out of your reverie. You frowned. It was late, and you weren’t expecting anyone. Hesitantly, you padded to the door, the chill of the wooden floor grounding you. When you opened it, your breath caught in your throat.

“Louis?”

There he was, standing on your doorstep, his hoodie soaked from the rain. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and his expression was a mixture of uncertainty and hope. The years had added a maturity to his face, but his eyes—those familiar, stormy blue eyes—were the same.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, his voice soft but tinged with the accent that had once made your heart flutter. “I, uh... I didn’t mean to show up unannounced. I just... I was in town, and I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

You blinked, struggling to find your voice. “It’s been years, Louis. Why now?”

He chuckled, though it lacked his usual confidence. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s the rain, or maybe I’m just tired of wondering what could’ve been.”

Your heart clenched. He was standing there, offering you the chance to rewrite the ending you’d once been so sure of. But was it that simple? Could you undo the pain of the past?

“Do you want to come in?” you asked after a moment, stepping aside. He nodded, brushing past you with a damp chill that made the room feel smaller.

Louis looked around, his gaze landing on the shoebox on your bed. His lips quirked into a small smile. “Still have this, huh?”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “I guess I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it.”

He walked over, picking up one of the Polaroids. It was a picture of the two of you at the festival, your arms around each other, your faces flushed with happiness. “We had something good, didn’t we?” he murmured.

“We did,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Louis turned to you, his eyes searching yours. “Do you ever regret it? Leaving?”

You hesitated. “Sometimes. But I needed to find myself, Louis. And I think you did too.”

He nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I get that. But I’ve never stopped missing you, Y/N. Not for a second.”

Tears pricked at your eyes. “I miss you too,” you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of the rain. Then Louis reached for your hand, his touch grounding you like it always had. “What if we tried again?” he asked, his voice barely audible. “No expectations, no pressure. Just... see where it goes?”

Your heart ached with the weight of possibilities. Maybe the timing had been wrong before, but now, standing here in the quiet hum of midnight, you wondered if the universe was giving you a second chance.

You didn’t let go of his hand as you both sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the shoebox together. You laughed softly as you picked up the scruffy wristband from that festival. “Remember this? We were stuck in the rain for hours.”

“And you were furious because your hair got ruined,” Louis said, his voice filled with a teasing warmth. “But you still danced with me in the mud.”

“Because you wouldn’t shut up until I did,” you replied, shaking your head but smiling.

“That’s because I knew you’d regret it if you didn’t. Dancing in the rain with you—yeah, that’s one of my favorite memories.”

His words hung in the air, and you turned to look at him. There was something about the way he was looking at you now, as if no time had passed, as if the years of distance and heartbreak hadn’t dimmed the way he felt.

“You know,” you began, your voice faltering slightly, “I always thought about coming back. I’d get as far as packing a bag, and then I’d stop myself. I was scared it was too late.”

“It’s not too late,” Louis said firmly, his hand tightening around yours. “We can take this slow, Y/N. I’m not asking for promises, just... a chance.”

The rain outside slowed to a soft drizzle, the rhythm mirroring the gentle hope growing between you. You leaned your head against Louis’ shoulder, and for the first time in years, the ache in your chest began to ease.

“Okay,” you said softly. “Let’s see where it goes.”

Louis pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his voice low and full of relief. “I missed you, love. More than you’ll ever know.”

[yunazxxx]

“you didn’t sleep again?” the red haired girl asked, “you didn’t eat again?” the brunette asked back. — meret manon x lara raj

cw ; angsty fluff, heavy topics (depression, struggles with mental health, feeling alone etc), established relationship (girlfriends), comforting, crying moments but not too many, physical affection (hugging, kissing, hand holding), manon lets lara cry on her shoulder at one point, lara wipes manon's tears at another, mentions of a eating disorder, kinda includes all of the girls, etc maybe

syponosis ; it's been no secret that the girls in katseye have suffered endlessly ever since the release of popstar academy, but even once th other members hate began to slow down it only picked up for manon and lara.

wc ; well over 1.5k

an - i want to first say this again, this story contains a lot of heavy topics if you cant handle that please take care of yourself and i’ll see you on my next update. this story is complete fiction, minus what can be proven as true. majority of this can genuinely take place but we don’t know that for sure if any of these have actually with these girls in specific. p.s not proofread bc im writing this at like 3am ntfm

—

it was 3:45 am, lara was still up on her phone, scrolling away on social media. she was laying in a fetal position due to how sick she felt, her stomach turned as she read comment after comment about herself. they were everything far from joyful comments, ever since geffen released their documentary the girls have been tormented by the media.

normally, lara wouldn't bother herself with reading every single comment, but on all of her social media that's all she'd see or someone calling her racial slurs or anything under that form of disrespect. lara didn't understand why, it had been so long since that recording, she was closer with everyone now, why was she getting so much hate for a small comment she made about her member, manon?

@larrarajj : are you awake? sent at 4:00 am. the redhead didn't know what to do, megan was asleep and it was too early in the morning for her to put anything on to distract herself, no matter what h tried all she could think about was those comments. lara got easily overwhelmed, unsure what to do with herself or anything.

she felt her heart getting heavy, as her eyes began to well with tears when her phone finally chimed.

@manonmeret : yeah, i am. sent at 4:05 am it was a text from manon, lara knew of her habit of almost never sleeping, espcially due to this endless stress they've been under, not ever given the chance to enjoy being ‘katseye’ because everytime they just breathe, they're getting ridiculed.

@larrarajj : can i come see you? - lara really didn't know what to do with herself at this moment, she felt so anxious it made her uncomfortable. she waited for manon's texts, seeing the bubbles pop up but disappear, then a knock was at her door.

she got off her bed and opened it, seeing manon in her comfort hat and a oversized t-shirt along with shorts. lara couldn't see the girl's face clearly, but her voice spoke enough that she had been crying. lara brought the older inside of her room, and hugged her.

manon could feel lara begin to break down in her arms, manon held her as tigh as she could, rubbing her back, "get it out, it's okay.." manon comforted the girl, it was heartbreaking watching lara suffer the way she was.

lara wouldn't ever talk about how she felt, she would always just isolate, or handle it herself, she'd never ask for help, which affected her girlfriend really bad because she'd always be available to assist lara, however she needed it.

anytime she'd ask if lara was okay, she'd just reply "oh i'm fine" but manon could see her about to break down, she'd bite her lip majority of the time or just nod because she could feel herself about to lose it. lara had her reasons, because yeah what she was getting was terrible, but she also got ahold of what was being said about the other girs, and those really messed her up.

when she did see happy comments about her and the girls, it'd only be about five of them, never including manon because everyone would berate her name ad drag it through the mud like she was nothing, lara wanted to speak out about it so bad, but she couldn't.

it made her feel so guilty, watching manon go through it every single day. as mentioned before, manon stopped sleeping. she was never calm enough to be able to sleep, she always felt so on edge that it fucked with her. manon started spending more money on energy drinks, catching the attention of the other girls.

sophia stopped her one day, seeing the stuff she had bought, asking why did she need so may. manon couldn't lie and say school, her and sophia graduated the same year, she would lie and say practice, or she was buying them for daniela too.

it wasn't like daniea didn't know of manon's habit, she roomed wth her, so obviously she knew. it really concerned daniela, so she began sleeping beside manon or letting manon lay in her bed so she could get a litte bit of sleep but as it got worse, not even that would help her.

manon would be up for hours, just writing in her journal. it wouldn't ever be something specfic, but as you read, you can her spiral mentally. infront of a camera, and seeig her laugh and smile you wouldn't ever guess that this is what she was going through.

lara lifted her head off of manon shoulder, manon just looked ather, with a frown but smile on her face, she looked reassuring, saying to her girlfriend, "you know, it's okay to get it out. we all need to talk to somene about what we're struggiling with." maon said, rubbing her girlfiends's back while she held her hands.

the pair was sitting on the bdnow, lara was fidgeting, but she didn't even know why. "hey, calm down, breathe" manon said gently to the panicked girl, she and lara took a deep breathe together, while manon was calming lara down she felt a tear fall down her face and lara wiped her tear.

lara kissed her cheek, "we're gonna be okay" lara said softly. they stayed with each other for a bit, before the sunrise began. manon took lara to the balcony, they watched the sun rise together. while this happened, lara put her head on manon's shoulder.

"i'm so glad i met you" she said softly, and the brunette nodded, "so am i" and they watched it rise in silence. soon the other girls began to come outof theirrooms, lara and manon began treating this as any other day, manon opening a energy drink while lara grabbed her water and gum, as her "meal for the day"

sophia watched as they did ths, it really made her feel terrible, watching them both sufferthis badly. she knew lara couldn't eat, after reading all of those comments everyday for as long as she would it began to make her so sick she would throw up everytime she ate something to the point where she wouldn't even get hungry.

it began affecting her health terrbly, lara would walk out of her room, she would look tired with bags under her eyes, oversized hoodie on and she'd grab her water then leave again. the most they would ever see of her would be during practice, butshewould get dizzy so easily due to her blood sugar and blood pressure being as low as it would get due to her never gettng enough nutrients.

megan caught on to this, and whenever mega would eat, she would have lara sit next to her and she would feed her older member. to the average person tis may soun ridiculus, but megan watched as lara began to give up on taking care of herself, the same way daniela watched manon.

her and megan did the best they could to help heal them, writing them mall notes and sticking them on their most used devices, notes of motvations, and quotes tha they know, or more hoped, would make them feel better.

overtime, lara and manon got better, it might've been a whole house effort but what mattered was that they started taking care of themselves once again. lara would pick up the habit of sleeping with manon more often, while when manon cooked she would feed lara to make sure she's eating well and would also keep an eye out incase she'd attempt to enduce vomitting.

overtime, things slowly became more normal around the house, lara wouldn't have to be monitorid as often and for manon, she started sleeing better ever since lara started sleeping next to her. even making a joked saying that she really just needed lara so she could feel better.

lara would spend so much more time in their room, that daniela would offer up her bed to lara until she was gone. lara would say it's fine but daniela didn't mind, normally saying she'd go talk to megan or something.

at some point the question was asked, "why didn't you come to me when you felt that way?" manon hd asked her girlfriend, she wasn't attacking her, but was curious what made lara isolate everytime she felt sad or down, "you had your own things to worry about baby, i'd hate to make you worry about more, let alone me" the redhead explained, but the brunette didn't accept it.

"it made me worry more ya'know?" manon said, playing in lara’s hair while the younger's arms were wrapped around her, "i know, didn't mean to though" manon nodded and kissed her head, "i know beautiful, it's okay"

[pokeberry5]

Hello, it's me again, still on my Tim dive. I wanted to know if there's any other comics you'd recommend! I've got Young Justice on the list but aside from that, nothing much. Doesn't have to be Tim specific though I have grown so fond of him. Thanks in advance!

hello again!

prefacing this with the fact that my recommendations are going to skew towards tim's earlier experiences and mostly bat-titles just because that's what i've managed to get through

i think you said last time that you'd already read robin 1991 which i love as a short and sweet introduction to tim's character

batman: contagion and batman: legacy -- LEGACY MY BELOVED I LOVE SO MUCH. contagion is the disaster pandemic storyline (which. yeah.) with legacy as the fallout/continuation, but i love it because it has so many almost whump fic moments. also catwoman-robin teamup and nightwing-robin-huntress teamup <333

batman: gotham knights: transference (which is batman: gotham knights #1-12) is a series of poignant character studies on the main characters associated with batman at the time (e.g. nightwing, robin, oracle, batgirl) and batman's thoughts on his relationships with them. i also really like the framing of the arc. you'll see. typical bruce repression fuckery.

huntress 1989 is a standalone mini-series introducing helena bertinelli. it's darker than what i usually enjoy, but i found it to be a tightly written story on trauma and self-actualization. what really made it stick with me is the (imo) suprisingly sensitive narrative and visual treatment of helena's childhood assault.

i haven't read it myself, but batgirl 2000 has been on my reading list for a long time. it's cassandra cain's title.

as some more random recs:

i recently read brotherhood of the fist which is a 5 part crossover centering around connor hawke with some banging dick & tim moments (green arrow 1988 #134, detective comics 1937 #723, robin 1993 #55, nightwing #23).

i'm very fond of the ridiculousness that is batman: failsafe (batman 2016 #125-130). i love jorge jiménez's art, i love sexy killer robot batman, and i do think it's an earnest exploration of how bruce conceptualizes and dichotomizes the role of his robins in his life. i also LOVE the noir/watercolor visuals of the accompanying I AM GUN mini.

i'm gonna toss in detective comics 2016 #1034-1046 which i read with absolutely no context for the sake of dan mora wet cat batman 👍 you too can be eminently confused :] but the art and writing is pretty solid!! i think it's like the bridge between infinite frontier and fear state.

[moirindeclermont]

Bridgerton folks, you asked... There it is. Daddy!Colin in all his glory.

While I can't predict exactly where this fic is going to go (as I write on the spot) the premise in this case is that consent is assumed where not explicitly stated. Also, I'd like to be more psychological than physical, bit that's more for the characters to develop the story in the way it needs to be told. I'm merely a vessel.

Title is to be defined but I accept suggestions. Have fun!! 🥵 😈 🫠

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Second Episode | Third Episode | Fourth Episode | Fifth Episode | Sixth Episode

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"Why?"

Well, that was the crux of the problem.

Why did Pen asked her boyfriend and long time friend Colin Bridgerton to try "the daddy thing" as she presented it to him?

Knowing that honesty must be the requisite if this was going to turn into reality, she decided to go for total vulnerability.

"Because I need this. Because there is no one I love more than you and you're the only one with whom I can think of letting go like that."

That last bit got into Colin.

He want sure of the whole thing, but if it was something she needed, he would give it a try, for her.

"I'm willing to try. I have some research to do."

Pen smiled so bright for him that his knees almost dropped. Yeah, that was the right choice.

"Oh, I can do research for you," she offered him, but it wasn't the point of all of this for him to take care of her?

He got closer to her personal space. "Don't worry baby, I'll do my own research. If I think I need some help or some questions, I'll ask."

Pen melted in his arms - kissed him deeply and it was worth a try just for the way she hugged him after that talk, as if just talking about it made her feel better.

Thing is, the more Colin got into it, researching and reading, the more he wanted to try. He still wasnt so sure of "Daddy" was going to be cringe or hot, but the idea of Pen trusting him that much.. that was extremely erotic for him.

They talked a bit about it some more. They decided on a safe word "plant" and that he would call her "babygirl" when he wanted to start a scene.

Pen was being teased and she knew it. They talked and talked and talked with Colin. Everything was set up, they had a procedure for the aftercare (even if she doubt that she would go that deep on their first session) and now it was just a question of waiting. She was never good at waiting.

She didn't want to start this adventure with some brat behavior, but as the day passed it was clear that Colin was not waiting out of fear or insecurity.

He was waiting just to drive her mad.

Pen knew he would be good at it.

It was on the verge of begging him, when after a particular stressful night, she was close molaining with Colin about everything and it was madness how tired she was of even thinking, when she head him saying "come here, babygirl".

Holy fucking shit.

She turned to see him and he was on the sofa, his legs opened. A cushion on the floor.

Did she already said Holy fucking shit?

She moved towards him, knellingon the cushion without instructions. He seemed pleased at that.

"Such a good girl for me," as Colin tilted her chin to kiss her. She was already trembling.

"Unzip me and take me in your mouth."

She looked at him agape, as she could not believe what she was hearing. She took a moment too long to follow his instructions.

"Are you my good girl?"

At that she could only nod. "Then, do as I say."

She thought he was good. But Colin was shooting for the stars.

His entire demeanor was confident and sexy. He embodied security and she knew she was safe in his hands.

She had yet to move though. He looked at her with such intensity that her heart skipped a beat.

"Do not test me, babygirl"

And she shook her head. Pen didn't want to test him.

"Words, love."

"No, I don't want to test you"

"I don't want to test you..."

A lightbulb in her head.

"I don't want to test you, Daddy"

Tbc