#i have no real reasoning for this other than just. the vibes i get

[buckets-and-trees]

Stella.

Stella.

This response is such an incredible gift! I can hardly begin to express how much it affected me to relive this chapter with you, and with such thought and insight! 🥹

Are we harboring perhaps a little crush here? + she’s not just starstruck or someone easily swooned by celebrity status.

Right on both counts! How could one not harbor a bit of a crush on America's golden "boy" but who is so clearly grown into being a man?! Especially after his nomad period and aging up like fine wine after. BUT she also has a level head on her shoulders.

I immensely enjoy writers working with all the things that the Blip would cause...

I would say that while it wasn't the first thing I knew about the Reader, it was in the first ten percent of things that I mapped out. There are a couple of major plot points that it will tie into later in the story, so I won't say anything about those, but one of the reasons it really felt like something I wanted for this Reader's backstory is that it gave a balance to Steve's other half if HE stayed and SHE blipped. As a unit, they could carry both persepctives and experiences together.

I love how competent we see Pepper be here, how she’s been so good at putting this team together.

...I forgot I put Maria Hill on this team.🧍🏻‍♀️ This chapter was written when I was verrrry deep into my rewatch of The West Wing and the presidential candidates were getting security/military briefings. At least I was thorough then! But I also didn't have any major plot points planned for international/military things to be affecting the candidates during the campaign, I just wanted to be thorough. AND I also remember when I wrote her onto this campaign team, I felt a very strong YEAH, BECAUSE WE DO NOT ACCEPT HALF OF WHAT HAPPENED IN SECRET INVASION!!! It just felt right hahaha.

After all, he is from a world where marriage wasn’t so focused on romantic love. But since he is a romantic, I’m definitely looking forward to them falling in love.

The reasoning Pepper lays out also has some elements of my own views of marriage - in that it HAS TO BE more than only romantic love, because marriage is hard work (as is anything worthwhile/that you invest in/that can grow). AND ALSO that married women should never be relegated to being only a trophy wife or a house wife (and I say that very specifically in that if those are roles that women want to have, then they should, but they should hopefully not be boxed into a corner).

I'M SO GLAD YOU LOVE HER! And not just this moment, but the other moments you mentioned that I was stitching little bits of character into her. Partly for Steve to fall in love with, but ... partly because in a lot of my Readers, I want it to feel like clothes that the person reading it can put on and wear for a while. Sometimes a costume, sometimes to deal with a complex issue, sometimes to have a wild time/experience something we otherwise never would... But when I write confident and driven readers or readers who are direct, I put a lot of what I would aspirationally hope that I could be into those characters, if that makes sense? I don't want them to be perfect, but I want them to have backbones and dreams and ambitions and reason and logic and real feelings that motivate them. For me, it's empowering - and if fiction gets to be an escape, sometimes I want to escape into healthy leading lady energy, and hope that that's what others reading this story can feel, too. 🥹

Oh, I’m intrigued by this. Is she a widow too?

🤐😏

This isn’t even a thirst trap, it’s a heart trap, and that’s worse.

this has the delightful found family vibes – which are definitely highlighting some major loss in First Lady’s background, I mean, she has to have a hint of craziness and not a lot to lose to jump into this headfirst – that I always enjoy in fic.

BINGO! Part of Reader's wiliingness to agree is the nature of being untethered to the life she was living.

But oh! Sam just! Sam is such a fantastic character/figure in the MCU, and I wanted to give him some good moments + parts to be part of this story, because Steve has strong ties to the important people in his life, you know? And so this story ending up having a strong inclusion of side characters started in this chapter, and although it's Steve x Reader, they couldn't be in a bubble - especially not given the campaign story shell, so I wanted to make everyone around them count/have significant roles to play.

"He might look like an all-American boy scout, but there's a lot more going on under the surface." + this is definitely hinting towards how he’s not just the perfect soldier or the good man but human and I am always here here for it. And we love Sam for recognizing all this in his friend.

It's so important to me to have characters that feel real, and I think... well, I think there can be this tendency around SOME people in MCU fandom (not all, but some), who hate and dismiss Steve's character for just being this perfect paragon boy scout idea of Captain America, and he's so much more. If we go to the Cap v. Iron Man, I think we see the same dismissal over Tony is just selfish but these are both only ASPECTS that they present, pieces that they struggle with, and when they're further and further explored, we see the complex layers. The complex Steve is the one I love to read and strive to write. And Sam giving a briefing here to our Reader about his character gave me the chance to put the marker in the sand and say it's the kind of Steve I was hoping to put in here, too.

And....also....

Sam - to be frank - is doing some damage control.

Because it sucks that Steve didn't come to this breakfast. THIS BREAKFAST WHERE HE WAS SUPPOSED TO MEET HIS WIFE FOR THE FIRST TIME BECAUSE THEY ARE GETTING MARRIED TOMORROW.

Reader is being very optimistic still, not letting it get to her, and definitely GENUINELY enjoying this time with Sam, but.... it still is what it is. Sam: not lying about anything, but definitely hyping his boy up so you don't resent Steve or feel defeated or insecure.

I know it's the delicious sort of slow burn when they don't even lay an eye on each other in the first two chapters.

BURN, BABY, BURNNNNN! IT'S GONNA BE SUCH A BURN, STELLA!

And, as I said in the very beginning of my response, this was such. a. gift. Doing basically a close re-read of this with you/through your comments also comes at SUCH an opportune/unique time because I just posted chapter 11 last Friday and I think I now have it tied down to just four more chapters, and it's reminding me of some of the key things that I had planted seeds for in the beginning, and some of them I know I've got strong threads that have already wrapped up, some I still need to wrap up but are on track, and some that I can circle back to that I forgot (like, oH HEY, WE'RE PROBABLY GONNA SEE MARIA HILL NOW because I did forget her 😩).

You are a goddess.

I'm sorry to hear that 2024 ended in such a drain and strain on your energy, and so I hope that 2025 can be a gentler and kinder year for you! Sending you so much 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 both for spending so much time on this commentary and just for you in general.

Red, White & True: Manhattan & Brooklyn (1/?)

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers (future x curvy Millennial Female!Reader), Pepper Potts, Sam Wilson Word Count: 4k Summary: "There was an idea..." Words at the heart of what brought the Avengers together. Pepper Potts has persuaded Steve Rogers to step up and help again - but this time in a battle to The White House. She invites you to consider a key position.

Content/Warnings: none

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

Prologue | Series

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

[MAY 15 - Manhattan, New York]

You try not to hold still while you wait in the lobby, but you’re nervous and the longer you sit, the more difficult it is to resist drumming your fingers, tapping your foot, jiggling your right leg as it’s crossed over your left, or even just chewing on your bottom lip.

You’re not anxious at all over meeting with Pepper, but what has you on alert is the possibility that you could theoretically meet Steve Rogers, former Captain America, today.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. The lobby of Stark Industries is immaculate, all sleek lines and modern design. The large windows let in plenty of natural light, making the space feel open and inviting despite its corporate purpose.

Your mind wanders back to your college days when you’d walked into a different Stark Industries lobby for the first time, a hopeful intern wanting to make a difference at the then-new Stark Foundation office. Pepper had been very involved in building the Foundation at the time, and had become a key mentor and - as the years passed and you left Stark Industries - a dear friend. She had helped fuel some of your late-night study sessions through grad school. Living in a new state, she had shown up and seen you through breakups, family drama, and the stress of putting together your thesis. Even when your paths diverged, you'd managed to stay in touch.

Back then, she’d become like the older sister you never had, seeing you through some of the difficult years figuring out how to be a real adult. Now, here you are, waiting to potentially join a presidential campaign she’s orchestrating for none other than Steve Rogers.

The receptionist's voice startles you out of your reverie. "Ms. Potts will see you now."

You stand, smoothing down your carefully chosen outfit - professional, but not stuffy. As you follow the receptionist down the hallway, your mind races with possibilities. What position could Pepper have in mind for you? Your background in political science and your years working in non-profit management seem like they could be useful, but you can't help feeling a little out of your depth.

As you approach Pepper's office, you take a deep breath to steady yourself. The door opens, and there she is - Pepper Potts, looking as poised and confident as ever in a crisp white blouse and tailored navy suit. Her strawberry blonde hair is pulled back in a neat ponytail, and her smile is warm and welcoming.

"It's so good to see you," she says, embracing you in a quick hug. "Come in, please."

You step into her spacious office, taking in the floor-to-ceiling windows with a breathtaking view of the city skyline. Pepper gestures to a comfortable-looking chair across from her desk, and you sit, trying to keep your nerves in check.

"I appreciate you coming on such short notice," Pepper begins. "I know it's been a few years since we’ve been able to catch up - even before the Blip.”

You were among the half who disappeared - still such a strange concept to grasp though you were supposedly settled back in. “I was happy to come! And of course I don’t mind a trip on the Stark Industries dime,” you say with a grin.

"Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?"

You shake your head. "I'm fine, thanks."

Pepper settles into her chair, folding her hands on the desk. "So, I know I told you we’re putting together the campaign team for Rogers for America, but I'm sure you're wondering more specifically why I called you here."

You nod, leaning forward in your chair, eager to hear Pepper’s vision.

"We're putting together an incredible team," she begins, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I've been reaching out to some of the brightest minds in politics, economics, and social justice. We have former White House staffers, grassroots organizers, and even a few unexpected faces from the private sector who are eager to contribute their expertise."

You are instantly intrigued, trying to imagine the caliber of people she's describing. Your mind races with possibilities - perhaps that brilliant campaign manager who orchestrated the upset victory in the last Senate race, or the economist whose revolutionary ideas about sustainable development have been making waves in academic circles.

"We've got strategists who are anticipating every move our opponents might make," Pepper continues, "and communications experts who can craft messages that will resonate with voters across the political spectrum.”

You listen intently, trying to pinpoint where you might fit into this powerhouse group.

"There's Maria Hill," Pepper continues, "who's handling security and intelligence briefings. She's got connections that'll be invaluable. Then there's Peter Parker - you might know him as Spider-Man - he's officially our youth outreach coordinator, but he's also got a brilliant scientific mind that we're tapping into for policy development."

Your eyebrows raise at the mention of Spider-Man.

Pepper leans forward, her eyes locking with yours. "But here's the thing - we're not just assembling a team of political operatives and policy experts. We need people who understand the heart of what we're trying to do, who can see the bigger picture and help keep us grounded in our core values."

Your heart begins to race as you start to realize where this might be going.

"That's where you come in," Pepper says, a warm smile spreading across her face. "I've watched your career over the years, how you've navigated the non-profit world, building coalitions and making real change happen. You have a gift for bringing people together, for seeing connections that others miss. Your experience gives you a unique perspective that we desperately need."

Your heart races as you process her words. You had assumed you might be offered some kind of advisory role, perhaps in fundraising or event planning. Maybe even appearance management or offering occasional input on strategy. But from Pepper's tone, it sounds like she has something more substantial in mind.

"Where do you see me on this team?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

"I've been putting a lot of thought into this," Pepper continues, her voice filled with conviction. “You know we’re doing something unconventional. Did you read the presidential plan?”

You nod. Steve’s bid for President of the United States was still technically not public knowledge. You had signed an NDA - being told only that you were receiving a proposal Pepper wanted your input and consultation on, with potential to join the team if you supported the initiative, and just silence if you didn’t.

“It’s bold, idealistic, aspirational; but it’s also unapologetic, has clear plans of action, and could be transformational in ways we haven’t seen in living memory,” you give your assessment.

“And it’s something you could see yourself being a part of?”

You take a deep breath, but smile genuinely. “I couldn’t sleep the first night after you sent it over. I couldn’t stop reading, hoping, re-reading, imagining possibilities!”

“Good,” Pepper responds. “Perfect.”

“Put me to work wherever you need me!”

“I was hoping you would say that because I have a very specific position I need to get filled, and you’re my first - and only - pick for the job.”

“Pepper, stop holding out!” A nervous and eager laugh escapes you. “Tell me!”

Her response slams into you like a freight train, knocking the air from your lungs.

“Future First Lady.”

You feel your jaw drop in shock, almost hitting the ground as your mind races with disbelief and anger. The room feels like it's spinning as you struggle to process the weight of her words.

"What?" you gasp, your voice barely above a whisper. "Pepper, I... I don't understand. First Lady? But that would mean..."

Pepper holds up a hand, her expression serious. "We're not just running a campaign here. We're trying to redefine what leadership looks like in this country. Steve is an incredible man, and he needs a partner who understands the complexities of modern America, not just a trophy wife, someone who can connect with people from all walks of life."

You shake your head, still reeling. "But I'm not - I mean, Steve and I aren't even - we've never even met!"

"I know," Pepper says softly. "That's part of the plan. We want to show that leadership isn't about who you're married to or what your last name is. It's about vision, compassion, and the ability to bring people together."

Pepper leans back in her chair, her expression at least revealing some concern over your reaction. "I know it's a lot to take in."

"A lot to take in?" you interrupt, your voice rising. "Pepper, it's insane! It’s May, and the election is in November. How could I possibly be the First Lady?"

Pepper holds up a hand, trying to calm you. "I know, I know. Let me explain."

But you're on a roll now, your initial shock giving way to indignation. "Explain what? How you thought it was okay to offer me a position that requires me to be married to a stranger? Use me to score points?”

"I understand your reaction," Pepper says calmly, "but please, hear me out. This isn't about scoring political points or creating some sham marriage. We're trying to redefine what leadership looks like in this country."

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. "Go on," you say, your voice tight, “because you’re still trotting out marriage.”

"We can’t outright ignore traditional expectations and polling numbers. If Steve were running as the nominee for either of the major parties, we could probably win without him being married, but since he’s running as an independent, he needs a wife. That being said, we want to move away from the traditional concept of the First Lady as just the President's wife," Pepper explains. "The vision is a First Partnership. Two people who work together. There’ve been a few First Ladies who have done more with their platform and position, and that’s what we would want for you, too.”

You chew on your lip, not persuaded yet, but a little less angry.

“We have an opportunity to show what a healthy partnership in marriage could look like to new generations. You’re my first and only choice because of your skills, experience, and the vision I know you would bring to the table. But you’re also my first and only choice because I think you two are well-suited for each other.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Pepper raises her hand to stop you.

“You and Steve don’t have to put on a show and be madly in love - that’s not what I want, that’s not what he wants or expects either.”

You frown. “What does he expect?” you ask. And then you perk up even more. “Has he agreed to this? Shouldn’t he at least be here to make the offer himself?”

Pepper sighs. “It was easier for me to convince him to run in the first place than to agree that he needed a wife.”

“But you’re telling me he did agree?”

Pepper nods. “He did.”

You unconsciously rub the empty space on your left ring finger. “Couldn’t we just get engaged and leave the question of a marriage for whether or not he wins?”

A soft laugh falls from Pepper’s mouth. “He actually asked the same thing.”

“And…?” You raise your eyes expectantly.

“The public would rake us over the coals and accuse us of only doing it as a publicity stunt. The campaign would become a gossip column on your relationship status and nothing more.”

“But isn’t it a publicity stunt?”

“We can spin a marriage that seems to appear out of nowhere. Steve’s always been a private person when it comes to his personal life. We will tell people you met through me - which is true. I thought you were well-suited for each other - which I do. When people asked why the wedding just before announcing his bid for the presidency, we tell them you two didn’t want your relationship status to become the big question on everyone’s minds so they can focus on the platforms and policies instead and that every marriage takes work regardless of the length of the courtship.”

You sit in stunned silence for a moment, trying to process everything Pepper has said. The idea of marrying someone you've never met, let alone becoming the First Lady of the United States, seems utterly surreal. And yet, there's a part of you that's intrigued by the challenge, by the opportunity to make a real difference on such a grand scale.

"I need some time to think about this," you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Pepper nods understandingly. "Of course. It's a lot to take in. But I want you to know that I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't think you were perfect for this role. Not just as a political partner, but as someone who could genuinely connect with Steve."

You raise an eyebrow. "You really think we'd be well-suited?"

"I do," Pepper says with confidence and warmth.

You rub your ring finger again, but this time you see Pepper’s eyes drop to watch your unconscious action, and you quickly stop. Her eyes, when you meet them again, are full of sympathy. You both lost husbands, but you don’t want to talk about it, yet again, and you don’t want to bring up a painful subject for her either.

She can read that in your tight-lipped smile.

So instead she says, “I can give you three days to think it over.”

You sigh and rise from your seat to go. “I don’t know if that’s long enough, but if you give me three days or three weeks, I don’t think it will change my decision I’ll land on. Give me the night to sleep on it. I think I’ll know by tomorrow morning.”

[JUNE 4 - Brooklyn, New York]

Three weeks later, your life has been packed up and put in a truck on its way to the new brownstone in Brooklyn that’s been acquired for you and Steve to move into, and you’re sitting at a table in a café a few blocks away, waiting to meet your future husband for the first time over breakfast. Every time the bell rings over the door, you dart your head to see if it’s him, but he’s evidently running late.

As you wait, checking to see if you have any messages on your phone, the bell over the door chimes once more. This time, when you look up, your breath catches in your throat. A tall, athletic man with dark skin and an easy smile has entered the café. You recognize him immediately as Sam Wilson, the new Captain America. Your heart sinks a little as you realize Steve isn't with him.

Sam spots you and makes his way over, his stride confident but casual. As he approaches, you notice the way his eyes scan the room, a habit born from years of military training and superhero work. He's dressed in civilian clothes - a leather jacket over a simple t-shirt and jeans - but there's no mistaking the aura of strength and capability that surrounds him.

"You must be the future Mrs. Rogers," Sam says with a warm smile, extending his hand. "I'm Sam Wilson. Steve asked me to come apologize and explain - and to have breakfast with you, if you’ll have me.”

You nod, forcing a smile, and shake his hand. "Of course. I understand.” You motion toward the chair across the table from you, inviting him to sit. “I know campaign prep must keep him incredibly busy."

Ever since you’d accepted the proposition to marry Steve Rogers and join him on the campaign trail to the White House, your own life had turned upside down, giving you hardly any time to breathe, and you’d been told this was only a mild version of what your own schedule was going to look like once Steve formally announced.

“Former President Bartlet agreed to meet with him, and the schedules ended up aligning this morning for Steve to go up to New Hampshire for a sit down,” Sam explains.

“President Bartlet?” you can’t help the awe in your voice. “I’d skip out on breakfast with me, too.”

“I hope I’m not a disappointment of a substitute,” Sam teases. “Since we’ll be working together as part of the senior staff, I volunteered because I was eager to finally meet you.”

His smile is genuine, and you feel the absolute truth of his sentiment. It melts away some of your disappointment and worry.

In return, your smile becomes a little warmer and easier. “I can’t help being a little disappointed - since I was hoping to finally meet my future husband - but he’s unemployed and you’re technically Captain America, so I guess it’s really an upgrade.”

Sam laughs. “Oh, I’m going to love you, I can tell.”

“Just promise me he’ll actually be at the ceremony tomorrow?” you ask. Your tone is light, but Sam calls your bluff.

His laughter fades, replaced by a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, he'll be there. Wild horses couldn't keep him away. Or androids. Or aliens. Or wizards. Or..." He trails off, realizing he might be overdoing it. "You get the idea."

You nod, appreciating Sam's attempt at humor. "I hope so. It would be pretty awkward to explain to the press why the groom was a no-show at his own wedding."

"Trust me, Steve takes this very seriously," Sam says, his tone becoming more earnest. "He may not know you yet, but he respects you and the commitment you're making. He's not the type to back out or let you down."

You nod, feeling a mix of relief and nervousness. "I suppose I should get used to schedule changes and last-minute adjustments," you say, trying to keep your tone light.

"It's part of the package," Sam agrees. "But so is having a team of people who have your back, no matter what." He leans forward, his eyes meeting yours intently. "I want you to know that includes me. We're not just colleagues in this; we're family."

His words touch you deeply, and you feel a bloom of warmth in your chest, the firs time you’ve felt grounded since you agreed to do this. "Thank you, Sam," you manage to say. "That means a lot."

The waitress approaches, he orders coffee, and you both order breakfast.

As she walks away, you take a sip of the drink you’d ordered while you were waiting before, mulling over Sam's words. "Can I ask you something, Sam? You know Steve better than almost anyone. Do you think...?”

You hesitate, uncertain if you should voice your doubts to Sam. But his open, friendly demeanor encourages you to continue, and you’re going to need to learn to trust this new circle of people you’ll be surrounded with.

"Do you think this is crazy?" you finally ask, your voice barely above a whisper. "Marrying someone I've never even met, maybe becoming First Lady... it all feels so surreal."

Sam leans back in his chair, considering your question carefully. "Crazy? Maybe," he admits with a small smile. "But then again, I've seen a lot of crazy things in my time with the Avengers. This? This actually feels like one of the more normal things I've been part of."

You can't help but chuckle at that, some of the tension easing from your shoulders.

"Look," Sam continues, his tone becoming more serious. "I won't lie to you. It's not going to be easy. The scrutiny, the pressure, the constant demands on your time and energy - it's going to be a lot. But if anyone can handle it, it's Steve. And from what I've heard about you, I think you're up for the challenge, too."

Sam pauses as the waitress returns with your breakfasts and his coffee. Once she's gone, he continues, "Steve doesn't do anything halfway. When he commits to something, he's all in. And he's committed to this - to you, to this campaign, to trying to make a real difference."

You nod, appreciating his honesty. "And what about... us? Steve and me, I mean. Do you think we can make this work? Not just for the campaign, but as a real partnership?"

Sam's eyes soften. "Steve's one of the best men I know. He's loyal, compassionate, and has a moral compass that doesn't quit. But he's also been through a lot, and he can be... guarded. It might take some time for him to open up fully."

You absorb this information, feeling a mix of apprehension and curiosity about your future husband. "I appreciate your honesty, Sam," you say softly. "I guess we'll both be navigating uncharted waters."

Sam nods, taking a sip of his coffee before responding. "True, but you won't be doing it alone. Not only do you have the support of the team, but I think you and Steve might surprise yourselves. You both have a strong sense of purpose, a desire to help others. That's a solid foundation to build on."

You pick at your breakfast, mulling over Sam's words. "I just hope we can find some common ground beyond the campaign," you admit.

Sam leans in, his expression earnest. "Like I said, when Steve commits to something, he gives it his all. That includes relationships. He may be reserved at first, but once he lets you in, you'll have his unwavering loyalty and support."

You nod, feeling a bit more reassured. "I appreciate that. I’m not some hopeless romantic, I’m not looking to be swept off my feet, but I just hope we can find some chemistry, some spark beyond just being political partners."

Sam chuckles. "Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about that. Steve might be from the 1940s, but he's still a red-blooded man. And you," he gestures at you with his fork, "are definitely his type."

You feel your cheeks flush slightly. "His type?"

"Smart, independent, passionate about making a difference," Sam lists off. “

Your work in non-profits, your passion for social justice - that's right up Steve's alley. Plus, you've got that whole 'take no crap' vibe that he needs. I have a sense about these things, and you have it.”

You laugh, feeling some of the tension dissipate. "Well, I'll take your word for it. Though I have to admit, the idea of being Steve Rogers' 'type' is a bit surreal."

Sam grins. "Trust me, once you two actually meet, you'll see what I mean. Just don't let that 'aw shucks' routine fool you. He might look like an all-American boy scout, but there's a lot more going on under the surface."

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh? Do tell."

Sam shakes his head, still smiling. "Nah, I'll let you discover that for yourself. Where's the fun if I spoil all the surprises?"

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. "Fine, keep your secrets. But seriously, Sam, thank you. For breakfast, for the pep talk, for everything. I'm really glad I got to meet you before tomorrow."

"Me too," Sam says, raising his coffee mug in a mock toast. "To new beginnings and unexpected partnerships."

You clink your own mug against his, feeling a surge of warmth and camaraderie. As you finish your breakfast, the conversation flows easily between you and Sam. He regales you with stories of his adventures with Steve, carefully omitting any classified details but painting a vivid picture of the man you're about to marry.

You learn about Steve's dry sense of humor, his unwavering loyalty to his friends, and his surprising skill at sketching. Sam describes missions where Steve's quick thinking saved the day, but also quieter moments - movie nights with the team, intense debates over board games, and Steve's ongoing struggle to catch up on pop culture.

As Sam talks, you find yourself leaning in, captivated by these glimpses of reality, getting to know more about the man behind the myth. And even if the next twenty-four hours will be a whirlwind of you choosing and getting fitted for your wedding dress; interviewing candidates that have been vetted for your personal staff - assistant, pr strategist, stylist, initiative director; and a bachelorette party; you feel like you’ll be able to face it all with the bit of reassurance you’ve gained by spending this time with Sam.

next part: LAS VEGAS & CLEVELAND

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

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

This story will have 3-4 chapters, depending on where I split up the narrative. I anticipate about a chapter a week, usually posted on Fridays.

[reigns-devotee]

The Twisted Series Masterlist

Chapter 1: Igniting the Flame

Summary: As they clash over their undeniable attraction, Raven struggles with the consequences of giving in to her growing desire, while Roman pushes her to confront what she truly wants. Their charged interaction escalates, leaving Raven torn between the professional world she's built and the magnetic pull Roman has on her.

Warnings: Language, 18+

WC: 5k

As soon as I step into WWE headquarters, the vibe’s already giving me “you don’t belong here” energy, but I push through. I barely have time to adjust to the chaos around me before my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, half expecting a random meme from Selena or some crazy inside joke from Cassidy, but nah. It’s Triple H.

I tap the message, heart racing for no reason, and the moment I see his name, my stomach drops.

“You’re going to be interviewing Roman Reigns today.”

My mind? Blank. My stomach? Twisted in a knot, like it just took a nosedive off a cliff. Roman fucking Reigns? As in theRoman Reigns, the Tribal Chief, the face of WWE? On my first day as a reporter? This is either some kind of sick joke or a test to see if I can handle the chaos that comes with being part of this universe. But honestly, I don’t know what’s worse—the fact that I have to interview him, or the fact that my brain is spiraling out of control at the thought of it. My nerves are doing their own thing, and I can already feel the sweat creeping in. I’m way too new for this.

“Youre fucking joking.” I whisper to myself, glaring at the message like it’s gonna magically change. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.

My heels click on the floor with each step, echoing down the hallway like a reminder that I’m actually here. WWE Headquarters. This place is like a damn circus, and I’m just trying not to get lost in the chaos. As I walk past reception, a thought crosses my mind, and I can’t shake it: Should’ve been a damn stripper like Tia. I mean, seriously, what’s stopping me? I’ve got the ass, I’ve got the tits, why not use what I’ve got? The wrestling world is full of bigger-than-life personalities, but let’s be real—I’ve got the body, so I’m not exactly out of place in a different kind of world.

But before I can spiral too deep into my self-doubt, I round the corner, and bam. There it is. The wrestling chaos I’ve been hearing about in stories but never actually seen. Wrestlers in their gear, muscles bulging, faces intense as they prep to head out to the ring. It’s like being dropped into a real-life action movie, and I feel like a fish out of water. I don’t duck my head, though, I’m not some shy rookie who’s gonna blend in. Nah, I’m better than that.

I force myself to keep my head up, standing tall, shoulders back like I belong here—like I’m already part of this world. “Keep your head up, ma,” I whisper to myself, mentally slapping some confidence back into my chest. I wave as I pass by, flashing my best smile like I’ve been here a hundred times, even if my heart is about to beat out of my chest.

Everyone’s doing their thing, too focused on their own routines to pay attention to me. But I catch a few glances, some nods, a couple of smiles in return, which does wonders for my ego. It’s small, but hey, I’ll take it.

Finally, I reach the door. The one that makes my stomach drop all over again. “Roman Reigns,” it says, in bold letters. Like his name is written in gold or something.

For a second, I hesitate. Do I knock? Do I just barge in like I belong here? But before I can second-guess myself again

I reach for the door handle, expecting it to open like every other damn door I’ve walked through today. But, of course, it doesn’t. It’s stuck. I push harder, but nothing. I can feel the heat creeping up my neck as I strain against the door. Seriously? I roll my eyes at myself. This is the most rookie move I could possibly pull, but I can’t stop now. With another push, I lean my shoulder into it, almost ready to just kick the damn thing in when— whoosh—the door swings open faster than I can prepare for.

And, naturally, I go flying forward, landing flat on my ass. My heart goes into overdrive as I catch myself, bracing for the embarrassment that’s already washing over me. But it doesn’t last long. My gaze shoots up, and there he is—Roman fucking Reigns, standing right in front of me.

I freeze for a moment, my heart pounding harder than it ever has in my life. I can’t even form words, just staring up at him as my mind scrambles. My eyes scan his frame from the ground up—his muscular legs in those cargo pants, his bare chest still glistening with sweat from his match. I can’t even think straight, too caught up in how… otherworldly he looks. Like he belongs on some sort of throne.

It’s then that I realize I’m not alone. Three other guys stand behind him, glancing down at me like I’m just another speed bump in their day. They don’t even bat an eye, stepping over me without hesitation. Just a casual wave of their hands like I’m not even there.

Roman, though? He stands still, looking down at me like I’m some kind of puzzle he’s trying to figure out. My stomach flips as I quickly scramble to sit up, my hands trying to steady myself on the floor as I stare up at him. I want to say something, anything, but the words feel stuck in my throat.

I finally glance up to find his eyes locking with mine. There’s this intensity there, like he’s not just seeing me but seeing right through me. His face is unreadable—stone cold, like he’s seen it all before. But then he does something that completely messes with my head.

He flicks his finger.

It’s barely a movement, but suddenly, the other guys behind him know it’s time to leave. They move without question, the door closing softly behind them, leaving Roman and me alone in this awkward, charged silence.

I try to stand up but end up just sitting there like an idiot, like I can’t move. Roman doesn’t even flinch. He just keeps his gaze on me, his eyes dark and calculating. I must look like a damn puppy, lost and confused, because I swear I can feel myself shrinking under that look.

“Easy there, sweetheart,” he says, his voice low but dripping with that alpha energy. “You okay?”

I nod quickly, finally finding my voice. “Yeah… just, uh, just a little… wow.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by my reaction, but doesn’t break the silence. I can’t tell if it’s teasing or curiosity.

Roman’s hand extends towards me, an unexpected gesture that makes me freeze for just a second. The roughness of his skin and the veins snaking up his forearm are visible, yet the warmth in his grip is surprisingly soft, almost gentle. It doesn’t make sense. His hands should feel like they belong to someone who could tear down a wall with ease, but they feel… human.

I quickly shake the thoughts away, forcing myself to pull away as I stand up, brushing myself off. I clear my throat. “I… I’m um… I have to interview you today. Triple H said so,” I say, feeling like a total dork as the words tumble out of my mouth. My voice sounds small compared to the magnitude of the man standing before me.

Roman lets out a low chuckle, deep and rich, the kind of sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “Man, he already got you running around, huh?” His tone is teasing, but there’s something more behind it. A knowing. He doesn’t say it outright, but I can tell he’s aware of the impact he’s having on me.

Now that I’m on my feet, I take a moment to steady myself. The chaos of just a minute ago seems to dissipate, but the electricity between us? That’s still lingering. He doesn’t say a word, just turns and walks toward his table. He leans against the wall, sipping from a cup of coffee like it’s just another casual Tuesday. His posture, the way he holds himself, makes my stomach flip. His cargos hang perfectly on his hips, just right, and I can’t help but notice the way the muscles in his chest flex as he takes a sip.

I force myself to focus. I pull out my notepad and pen, trying to keep my cool as I take a seat on the couch opposite him. I can’t help but notice the way he’s so effortlessly commanding the space around him, his presence almost overwhelming. His body is all strength, but there’s something about the way he leans against the wall that’s so relaxed. Too relaxed. Like he knows exactly the effect he has on me.

I try to shake it off, but when I glance up, I catch him looking at me. I swear, I’m not staring at him on purpose, but somehow, my gaze locks onto him like he’s the only thing in the room. And before I can look away, he speaks, his voice low, gravelly.

“You gonna stare, or are you gonna do something about it, sweetheart?” His words hang in the air, thick with intention, and I freeze. My heart skips a beat, my face flushing as I scramble to respond.

“I-... it’s not like that,” I stammer, my words a jumbled mess. I’m definitely not used to being spoken to like that, especially not by someone as intimidating as Roman.

But before I can finish my sentence, he cuts me off with a soft, firm chuckle. “Just ask your questions, Raven.”

My name on his lips. It’s not just a name anymore. It’s like he’s claiming it, making it his own. The way he says it, smooth and demanding, makes something inside me stir. I can’t deny the effect he’s having on me.

“How’d you know my n-”

“I know everything…” he interrupts, his voice sharp but calm, as if the answer was obvious. Then, just when I think I might lose my grip on this whole interview, he takes a step closer to me.

My pulse quickens as he moves, his presence suddenly even more intense as he stands directly in front of me. “Now, let’s get this over with,” he says, his voice low, calm, but with an edge to it that sends a shiver down my spine.

I can’t even speak, let alone respond. His proximity, his words, everything about him is too much. But somehow, I manage to pull myself together, ready to face whatever this interview—and Roman—throws at me next.

Roman

I didn’t need this shit today.

Hell, I didn’t need this shit any day. Between holding the Bloodline together and keeping myself at the top of this business, the last thing I wanted was to be babysitting some rookie reporter with wide eyes and shaky hands. But here I am, standing in my locker room, staring down at her.

“Now let’s get this over with,” I say, stepping closer, trying to keep my voice steady and professional.

She doesn’t move at first. Just sits there on the edge of the couch like a deer caught in headlights. For a moment, I wonder if she’s even breathing.

Damn it, Triple H. This is exactly the kind of thing he loves to throw at me. He probably thinks it’s funny—put the Tribal Chief in a room with a newbie and watch the chaos unfold. But there’s something different about this one. Raven.

I don’t know why, but she’s been under my skin from the moment I first saw her name pop up in the roster. Maybe it’s the way she carries herself—like she’s got something to prove. Or maybe it’s how she’s trying so damn hard not to let her nerves show, even though I can see right through her.

Her voice pulls me back to the present. “Okay, um… let’s start,” she says, fumbling with her notepad.

I watch as she clicks her pen a few times, her fingers trembling slightly. It’s almost… endearing. I shouldn’t be paying attention to details like that. But I can’t seem to help myself.

“Ask your questions,” I say, leaning back against the wall again. I take another sip of coffee, trying to act like this is just another interview. Like she’s just another reporter.

She glances up at me, her eyes meeting mine for a split second before darting away. “Right. Um… so, Roman, what does being the Tribal Chief mean to you?”

It’s such a standard question, and I could give her the usual rehearsed answer. The one I’ve given a hundred times before. But something about the way she’s looking at me—like she’s waiting for something real—makes me pause.

“What does it mean to me?” I repeat, my voice slow, deliberate. I tilt my head slightly, watching her reaction. “It means everything. My family. My legacy. My power. It’s not just a title—it’s who I am.”

Her pen scratches against the notepad as she scribbles down my words. I notice how she bites her lip in concentration, her brow furrowed.

“And how do you balance that?” she asks, her voice a little steadier now. “Your family, your career, the pressure—it’s a lot to carry.”

She doesn’t even realize how close she’s getting to the real question. The one I’ve been asking myself for months now.

I cross my arms over my chest, considering her words. “You don’t balance it,” I say finally. “You sacrifice. You fight. You do whatever it takes to stay on top.”

Her eyes meet mine again, and this time, she doesn’t look away. There’s something in her gaze—curiosity, maybe. Or understanding. Like she’s starting to see the man behind the title.

The silence stretches between us, and for a moment, I wonder if she’s going to ask anything else. But then she shifts in her seat, her pen hovering over the page.

“You’ve been on top for so long,” she says softly. “Do you ever think about what comes next?”

The question hits me harder than it should. I straighten up, the coffee cup forgotten in my hand. “Next?” I echo, my tone sharp. “There is no ‘next.’ This is it. This is who I am.”

Her eyes widen slightly, and I realize my voice came out harsher than I intended. I sigh, running a hand through my hair.

“Look,” I say, my tone softer now, “you’re new here. You don’t understand how this business works yet. But you will. And when you do, you’ll see that there’s no room for ‘what comes next.’ You either stay on top, or you don’t.”

She nods slowly, her pen moving again. But I can tell she’s not writing down my answer. She’s thinking, processing. And for some reason, I don’t want her to leave this room thinking I’m just some cold, calculated machine.

Before I can stop myself, I speak again. “What about you?”

Her head snaps up, her eyes wide with surprise. “Me?”

“Yeah,” I say, my voice steady. “Why are you here, Raven? Why WWE? What are you chasing?”

For a moment, she looks like she doesn’t know how to answer. But then, she straightens her shoulders, her expression determined.

“I’m here because I love this business,” she says firmly. “Because I want to tell the stories that matter. The ones people remember.”

Her words catch me off guard. I didn’t expect that kind of conviction from someone so new. But there it is, clear as day.

I nod, a small smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “Fair enough,” I say.

The tension in the room shifts slightly, the air feeling a little lighter. But there’s still something unspoken between us. Something I can’t quite put into words.

“Alright,” I say finally, pushing off the wall. “Let’s wrap this up.”

As she gathers her things, I can’t help but watch her. There’s something about Raven that I can’t shake. Something that makes me feel like this interview is just the beginning.

Raven

After the interview, I was completely breathless. I ain’t never been that nervous around a man in my life. Never. They’re usually the ones tripping over their words, not me. But Roman? Oh no, he wasn’t. He was calm, cool, and in control—and I was the one fumbling like I just got caught sneaking out past curfew.

The audacity.

I tried to shake it off as the day went on, burying myself in work. I had interviews lined up back-to-back: Seth Rollins with his cocky smirk, Bianca Belair with her endless energy, and a few up-and-coming stars trying to prove themselves. But even with all that, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. The way he looked at me, the way he said my name like he already owned it.

By the time my shift ended, I was mentally done. WWE HQ is intense on a normal day, but with Roman lingering in the back of my mind? It felt like I had been running a marathon in heels.

I didn’t waste any time changing my clothes and heading to Brickell City Centre to meet up with my girls. The second I pulled into the parking garage, I already felt a little lighter.

Selena was waiting by the entrance, her notepad clutched to her chest. She’s been killing it as an upcoming writer for WWE, already pitching storylines and character arcs like she’s been here forever. Then there was Tia, strutting out of a high-end store with a designer bag in one hand and a coffee in the other. She chose the lavish stripper life instead of joining WWE, and honestly? She made it look good. And last but not least, Cassidy, fresh off her SmackDown debut, walking up with that “don’t mess with me” energy she’s always had.

We’ve been tight since middle school. Through bad haircuts, first crushes, and every ridiculous thing in between, we stuck together. Now here we were, all chasing our dreams—just in different ways.

“Girl, you look fucked,” Tia said, raising an eyebrow as I walked up.

“Damn, thanks,” I shot back, rolling my eyes.

“Rough day at the office?” Selena teased, nudging me with her elbow.

“Literally,” I muttered, the image of Roman flashing in my mind.

Cassidy smirked, crossing her arms. “Let me guess. Big Dog got you simping?”

I froze for a second too long, and they all pounced.

“Oh my God, it was him!” Selena gasped, her eyes lighting up.

Tia let out a dramatic laugh. “Raven, I swear, if you don’t spill every single detail, we’re disowning you as our bitch.”

I sighed, shaking my head as we walked into the mall together. “Fine, but y’all better buy me a drink first.”

They laughed, and just like that, the tension of the day melted away. Whatever Roman Reigns did to my head, my girls were here to remind me who I was.

And I’d be damned if I let one man—no matter how fine—throw me off my game.

As I strolled past one of the oversized mirrors lining the hallway, my reflection caught my eye. I slowed down, smirking at the sight of myself. The outfit? Clocked. Hair? Laid. And the way my ass poked against the green Nike shorts added that little extra something.  

One more glance at the picture, and I hit post, smiling as the likes started rolling in almost instantly. Sometimes, you just gotta remind the world—and yourself—exactly how much of a bad bitch you are.

Roman

The arena was finally silent. The roar of the crowd had faded, leaving behind the hum of fluorescent lights and the faint echo of footsteps in the distance. Most of the crew had packed up and left, the wrestlers were either at the hotel or out blowing off steam, and I was still here.  

The locker room smelled of sweat, leather, and the sharp tang of cologne. I sat on the edge of the bench, elbows resting on my knees, staring blankly at my phone. Paul’s text from earlier glared back at me:  

“Good work tonight, my Tribal Chief. Tomorrow, see you at 10.”

I tossed the phone onto my duffel bag, exhaling sharply. My head wasn’t on tomorrow, or the Bloodline’s next big move. It wasn’t even on tonight’s match. It was stuck on her.  

Raven.  

That interview.  

Her nervous energy. The way her voice trembled at first, like she wasn’t sure she belonged there, but quickly found its rhythm. The way her eyes darted around the room, only meeting mine when she thought I wasn’t looking. I could feel her trying to hold her ground, trying to match my presence, but her nervous tells gave her away—biting her lip, tapping her pen.  

For most people, I’d brush it off, let them fade into the background like they always do. But with her? Nah, she lingered.  

I leaned back, dragging a hand over my face, groaning softly. What the hell was it about her? Maybe it was the way she tried so hard to stay professional while her body language screamed the opposite. Or maybe it was the way she looked at me—like she wanted to run but also wanted to stay and figure me out.  

I started to feel something rise on me. And it wasn’t a brow. My gaze dropped to my lap, and I rolled my eye in frustration.  

“There’s no fucking way,” I muttered under my breath, shifting uncomfortably.  

I stood abruptly, grabbing my duffel bag and slinging it over my shoulder. The weight felt heavier than usual, or maybe that was just me. I needed to clear my head, and staying here wasn’t helping.  

A knock at the door interrupted my spiral.  

“Come in,” I said, my voice sharp.  

Jimmy poked his head in, grinning like always. “Yo, we’re heading out. You coming?”  

I shook my head. “Nah, not tonight.”  

He chuckled, stepping further in. “You good, Uce? You seem... off.”  

I raised a brow, my expression hardening. “I’m fine. Just tired.”  

Jimmy shrugged, his smirk widening. “Sure, tired. Don’t stay here all night, though. Whatever’s got you in your head, it’ll still be there tomorrow.”  

“Go,” I said, my tone leaving no room for argument.  

He raised his hands in mock surrender and backed out of the room. His laughter faded as he joined the others down the hall.  

I stood there for a moment, staring at the open door before finally stepping out into the quiet hallways of the arena. My reflection caught my eye in the glass doors—broad shoulders, hard eyes, the Tribal Chief. The Head of the Table.  

But underneath the title, the power, the expectation, I could feel something else bubbling—something I hadn’t let myself feel in a long time.  

Need.  

And as much as I wanted to fight it, I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was the reason for it.

Raven

The next 2 day felt like a fresh start—or at least I told myself it would be. I woke up early, got my coffee, and pulled out one of my best outfits for another round of interviews. A fitted black dress with a sleek blazer, heels that clicked with authority. Professional, but still me.  

By the time I got to the arena, my nerves from the other day were almost forgotten. Almost.  

I was in the middle of interviewing Cody Rhodes, who was all charm and confidence, answering my questions with ease. The camera crew stood nearby, adjusting their angles while Cody leaned casually against the backdrop.  

“So, Cody,” I said, holding my notepad tightly, “what’s the mindset heading into your next match? Any specific strategy?”  

He grinned, tilting his head as if the question amused him. “You know, Raven, it’s all about staying focused. The goal is simple—prove why I’m at the top of my game.”  

I nodded, scribbling down notes while trying not to be distracted by the growing heat in the room. But it wasn’t Cody that had me on edge.  

It was him.  

Roman.  

I could feel his presence before I even saw him. The heavy weight of his gaze pressed against my back, making the hairs on my neck stand on end. Cody noticed my shift in focus and raised a brow, his grin turning curious.  

“You good?” Cody asked, his voice low enough that the camera wouldn’t catch it.  

“Yeah,” I replied quickly, forcing a smile. “Let’s keep going.”  

But before I could ask the next question, a shadow loomed over us. I turned slightly, and there he was. Roman Reigns.  

His expression was unreadable, but the tension in his jaw and the fire in his eyes were unmistakable. Without a word, he grabbed my wrist—not harshly, but firmly—and started walking away, pulling me with him.  

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I exclaimed, trying to keep up with his long strides. “Roman, what the fuck? I’m in the middle of an interview!”  

He didn’t respond, didn’t even look at me. The camera crew and Cody stood frozen, their eyes wide with confusion.  

“Roman, I swear to God, let me go!” I hissed, struggling against his grip.  

We rounded the corner, and I realized where he was taking me—his locker room. The door slammed shut behind us, and he finally let go of my wrist. I stumbled back a step, glaring at him.  

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I snapped, my chest heaving with a mix of anger and adrenaline. “You can’t just drag me away like that! I could get fired for this!”  

He crossed his arms, leaning back against the door, his towering frame blocking my only exit. “You won’t get fired,” he said calmly, his voice low and steady.  

“Oh, really? And how do you know that?” I shot back, my hands on my hips.  

“Because no one would dare question me,” he replied, his tone dripping with authority.  

I scoffed, throwing my hands up. “Bullshit. Do you even hear yourself? This is my job, Roman. My career. You don’t get to just—”  

He cut me off, stepping closer. “And you think I don’t know that? You think I don’t see how hard you’re working, trying to prove yourself in a place that’ll eat you alive if you let it?”  

I froze, caught off guard by the intensity in his voice.  

“This isn’t about your interview,” he continued, his gaze locking onto mine. “This is about the way you’re in my head, Raven. The way I can’t focus because all I can think about is you.”  

My breath hitched, and for a moment, I couldn’t speak. The air between us was thick, charged with something I couldn’t quite name.  

“Roman...” I started, my voice softer now.  

But he shook his head. “Don’t try to deny it. I see the way you look at me. You feel it too.”  

I wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but the words wouldn’t come. Because deep down, I knew he was right.

The silence hung heavy between us, thick with tension. Roman's words echoed in my mind, colliding with the protests I wanted to voice but couldn’t bring myself to say. My heart raced as I looked up at him, his dark eyes boring into mine like he could see straight through me.

I swallowed hard, trying to gather myself. “Roman, this... whatever you’re thinking, it’s not possible,” I said, though my voice wavered. “You’re—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. “Don’t finish that sentence. I know exactly what you’re about to say, and I don’t care.”

“You should care,” I shot back, finding some of my fire again. “This isn’t just about us. There are people watching, consequences, reputations. I can’t afford to—”

“Do you think I care about reputations?” he asked, cutting me off again. He pushed off the door and closed the space between us in two deliberate steps. “I’ve built mine by doing whatever the hell I wanted, and it’s worked out just fine.”

I took a step back, bumping into the edge of the table behind me. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re Roman Reigns. I’m just... me.”

His brow furrowed, and he tilted his head slightly, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You think you’re just ‘you’?” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “Raven, you walked into this place and turned heads without even trying. You think I’m the only one who’s noticed? You’ve got fire in you, and everyone can see it. But you’re so busy worrying about stepping out of line that you don’t even realize the power you have.”

His words hit me harder than I expected, leaving me speechless for a moment. My throat felt tight as I looked up at him, trying to process the mix of frustration and admiration in his gaze.

“But I see it,” he continued, his voice softer now. “I see you, Raven. And I’m done pretending I don’t.”

The air between us was suffocating, charged with an intensity that made my skin tingle. I tried to find something to say, something to diffuse the situation or at least create some distance, but nothing came to mind.

“Roman, this isn’t fair,” I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’m just trying to do my job. You’re making it... impossible to focus.”

He smirked, but it wasn’t smug. It was something softer, almost amused. “Good,” he said simply.

“Good?” I echoed, my brows knitting together.

“Yeah,” he said, leaning down just enough to bring his face closer to mine. “Because maybe it’s time you stop hiding behind that job and start focusing on what you really want.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I hated how much they affected me. My pulse thundered in my ears as I stared up at him, caught between wanting to push him away and wanting to pull him closer.

“This... this can’t happen,” I managed to say, though even I didn’t sound convinced.

“Why not?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

“Because it’s dangerous,” I said, my breath hitching as he moved even closer.

He chuckled softly, the sound sending a ripple of heat through me. “Raven, I’ve built my life on danger. What’s one more risk?”

🏷️ @mrsfatu @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @jstarr86 @partypoison00

[seaofreverie]

I've seen the 'Sparks songs that could be TMBG songs' and vice versa comparision brought up a couple of times and idk if this one has been mentioned yet but I think Hippopotamus is really just the primest example of a 'TMBG song but it was actually written by Sparks'. Specifically it has so many elements characteristic of JL's songwriting. Obscure words! Interesting things done in the music theory sense that make it look kind of like an experiment / exercise in song form and that could even make it look like an excuse for them to mostly just fool around with this kind of stuff! (idk the specifics because I'm very not knowledgeable yet as for now in music theory, but I saw this mentioned somewhere too, it has something to do with the tonic / key resolution or whatever it's called I think, sorry, I don't remember). Seemingly absurd, non-sequitur lyrics! An unreliable narrator! I mean ok, it's mostly the obscure words that just happen to rhyme and thus make a good theme for a list of things to be found in the narrator's pool I suppose that made me think of this. And even the drumbeat during the uhhh, verses? (not the parts were the things in the pool are listed anyway) reminds me of modern TMBG for some reason

[vaguely-concerned]

I've been picking mostly only the essential flirt options with lucanis in the romance so far (I've personally found the dynamic much more natural and mutual when you do that, more like forming a solid friendship slowly and inevitably becoming something else and less like you keep pushing on him and getting little back b/c he seemingly just gets overwhelmed and goes into freeze instead), and I think rye is a pretty hard person to read at the best of times even though he's been Down Real Bad from pretty early on and their chemistry as people is naturally really good. so the way the almost-kiss plays out in this playthrough feels a lot like it has the added layer of lucanis realizing that no but for sure rook is flirting and not just being kind or a good friend* it IS actually happening it's not just wishful/fearful thinking!!! and then uh. maybe going a bit too hard a bit too fast in all the excitement at that revelation haha

*in lucanis' defense he has seemingly literally never had a friend who wasn't his cousin-brother before, under those circumstances I suppose some confusion is extremely natural if not outright expected lmao

[thavron]

I agree whole heartedly with this ^

Not only am I an almost kiss truther, I am an Aziraphale breaks Crowley's heart believer. In 1941, he rejects him, for the right reasons, but big ouch. This then gives Crowley's 'oh' moment in season 2 new context. We the viewer thinks this is when Crowley realises he's in love, but I would argue, that this is the moment he realises that Aziraphale is in love with him and that the time for their picnic is NOW. Enter Metatron, and he's too late. Always too late. (which is another line that needs context. When was he late before?)

I also happen to think "No Nightingales" will be given context during the 1941 flashback, though I lean toward it being a Shakespeare reference rather than a reference to the song. I have no real reason for this other than vibes. Call it a hunch.

So yes I do think we shall have a 1941 flashback. I think we may get a few more flashbacks too, including a recent one post-apocalypse.

If I were a betting person, I would imagine we would get a cold open with a bunch of flashbacks which would recontextualise everything, and then we would hit the ground running from the moment it left off in S2.

Just my opinion of course.

Don't forget 90 mins is essentially 2 episodes, and think about how quickly the apocalypse was resolved in season 1. All the pieces are already in play and in place thanks to season 2, so story wise we are one step away from the climax. There is plenty of time to do flashbacks and finish off the husband's character arcs.

Don't fret :)

Hey chat, why do we think we'll get a third part of the 1941 flashback in s3?

I'd be absolutely on board with it (it's my favourite flashback), but is there a particular theory or headcanon behind it? I've seen a lot of posts referring to it, but I couldn't find anything specific and I'm very curious.

[straycalamities]

the fixation of fandom these days on there always being a Black and a White. A Right and a Wrong. A Villain and a Victim. is soooo fucking tragic and frankly REALLY DAMN ANNOYING

especially in stuff where like..if THAT'S your priority? you've missed the entire damn point. and yet it always is. so loudly.

look beyond your blorbo. your kintype. your CC. your f/o. look beyond your otp. look beyond your found family dynamic and actually absorb what's going on with the other characters. i'm begging.

honestly do a study on the characters you hate most or care about the least. take a half an hour to put yourself in their shoes

no this isn't an anti-shipping, anti-kinning, anti-selfship, or anti-blorboing post, because i don't think those are the things that inherently ruin characters or tags or whatever other ppl think. but if you do do that, it'll make it even better if you look at a larger scope beyond that as well I promise

[goldensunset]

i do not like thanksgiving (week)

[acourtofquestions]

"You'll come back," Manon said.

It sounded like more of a threat than anything

Dorian smirked. "Would you miss me if I didn't?"

Manon didn't reply. He didn't know why he expected her to.

He'd taken all of a step, when Asterin clasped his shoulder. "In and out, quick as you can," she warned him. "Take care of Narene." Worry indeed shone in the Second's gold-flecked black eyes. Dorian bowed his head. "With my life," he promised as he approached her mount and grasped the dangling reins. He didn't fail to miss the gratitude that softened Asterin's features. Or that Manon had already turned away from him.

A fool to start down this path with her. He should have known better.

The hours that passed were some of the longest of Manon's existence.

From anticipation, she told herself. Of what she had to do.

Abraxos, unsurprisingly, found them within an hour, his reins sliced from the struggle he'd no doubt waged and won with Sorrel. He waited, however, beside Manon in silence, wholly focused upon the gate where Dorian and Narene had vanished.

Time dripped by. The king's sword was constant weight at her side. She cursed herself for needing to prove-to him, to herself-that she refused to let him go into Morath for practical, ordinary reasons. Erawan wasn't at the Ferian Gap. It'd be safer. Somewhat. But if the Matrons were there … That was why he'd gone. To learn if they were. To see if Petrah truly commanded the host there, and how many Ironteeth were present. He had not been trained as a spy, but he'd grown up in a court where people wielded smiles and clothes like weapons. He knew how to blend in, how to listen. How to make people see what they wished to see. She'd sent Elide into the dungeons of Morath, Darkness damn her. Sending the King of Adarlan into the Ferian Gap was no different.

It didn't stop her breath from escaping when Abraxos stiffened, scanning the sky. As if he heard something they couldn't.

And it was the joy that sparked in her mount's eyes that told her.

Moments later, Narene sailed toward them, making a lazy path over the mountains, a dark-haired, pale-skinned rider atop her. He'd truly been able to change parts of himself. Had made his face nearly unrecognizable. And kept it that way.

Asterin rushed toward the mare, and even Manon blinked as her Second threw her arms around Narene's neck. Holding her tight. The mare only leaned her head against Asterin's back and huffed.

Manon hadn't dwelled long on what she'd say.

And as the three hundred Ironteeth witches filed into the hall, some coming off their patrols, Manon half wondered if she should have. They watched her, watched the Thirteen, with a wary disdain.

Their disgraced Wing Leader; their fallen Heir.

When all were gathered, Petrah, still standing in the doorway where she'd appeared, merely said, "My life debt for an audience, Blackbeak."

Manon swallowed, her tongue as dry as paper. Seated atop Abraxos, she could see every shifting movement in the crowd, the wide eyes or hands gripping swords.

"I will not tell you the particulars of who I am," Manon said at last. "For I think you have already heard them."

"Crochan bitch," someone spat.

Manon set her eyes on the Blackbeaks, stone-faced where the others bristled with hatred. It was for them she spoke, for them she had come here.

jacket, then hoisting up her white shirt. Rising in the stirrups to bare her scarred, brutalized abdomen. "She does not lie."

UNCLEAN

There, the word remained stamped. Would always be stamped.

"How many of you," Asterin called out, "have been similarly branded? By your Matron, by your coven leader? How many of you have had your stillborn witchlings burned before you might hold them?"

The silence that fell now was different from before. Shaking shuddering.

Manon glanced at the Thirteen to find tears in Ghislaine's eyes as she took in the brand on Asterin's womb. Tears in the eyes of all of them, who had not known. And it was for those tears, which Manon had never seen, that she faced the host again.

"You will be killed in this war, or after it. And you will never see our homeland again."

"What is it that you want, Blackbeak?" Petrah asked from the archway.

"Ride with us," Manon breathed. "Fly with us.

Against Morath. Against the people who would keep you from your homeland, your future." Murmuring broke out again. Manon pushed ahead, "An Ironteeth-Crochan alliance. Perhaps one to break our curse at last."

Again, that shuddering silence. Like a storm about to break Asterin sat back in the saddle, but kept her shirt open.

"The choice of how our people's future shall be shaped is yours," Manon told each of the witches assembled, all the Blackbeaks who might fly to war and never return. "But I will tell you this." Her hands shook, and she fisted them on her thighs. "There is a better world out there. And I have seen it."

Even the Thirteen looked toward her now.

"I have seen witch and human and Fae dwell together in peace. And it is not weakness to do so, but a strength. I have met kings and queens whose love for their kingdoms, their peoples, is so great that the self is secondary. Whose love for their people is so strong that even in the face of unthinkable odds, they do the impossible."

Manon lifted her chin. "You are my people. Whether my grandmother decrees it so or not, you are my people, and always will be. But I will fly against you, if need be, to ensure that there is a future for those who cannot fight for it themselves. Too long have we preyed on the weak, relished doing so. It is time that we became better than our foremothers." The words she had given the Thirteen months ago. "There is a better world out there," she said again. "And I will fight for it." She turned Abraxos away, toward the plunge behind them. "Will you?"

Manon nodded to Petrah. Eyes bright, the Heir only nodded back. They would be permitted to leave as they had arrived: unharmed.

So Manon nudged Abraxos, and he leaped into the sky, the Thirteen following suit.

Not a child of war. But of peace.

[justanotherwaywardsoul]

just finished the pvp civ s1 finale. I HAVE EMOTIONS ABOIT THIS

anyone wanna spill their theories in the notes thanks I need something to stave off the brainworms

[afniel]

Maaaaaaaaaaaan, come on.

(the post has ended up in the tags btw. I am not changing this and I need you to understand that it is just me talking to myself semi-publicly)

[themyscirah]

This is technically a Diana's age poll but I framed it partially around Julia's rescue because that's the event I need to contextualize and whether or not Diana is a thing yet is p important for my purposes. I would keep the Pérez run and postcrisis continuity in mind when answering this bc that's when this is relevant but I'd keep in mind that even though Diana is very young there (like early 20s) we don't know I don't think if she ages differently as a child (esp as a themysciran AND being made from clay) and in some versions she is older than she looks and was made earlier

Edit: I accidentally logic-ed this out in the tags lol 🤦‍♀️but feel free to still vote however you want. Going to publish this anyway bc I think I made some good points later in my tags

[13eyond13]

.

[snekdood]

i think ppl gotta get acquainted with the difference between systemic privilege and social privilege, which can overlap, but not always.

[aethersea]

another thing fantasy writers should keep track of is how much of their worldbuilding is aesthetic-based. it's not unlike the sci-fi hardness scale, which measures how closely a story holds to known, real principles of science. The Martian is extremely hard sci-fi, with nearly every detail being grounded in realistic fact as we know it; Star Trek is extremely soft sci-fi, with a vaguely plausible "space travel and no resource scarcity" premise used as a foundation for the wildest ideas the writers' room could come up with. and much as Star Trek fuckin rules, there's nothing wrong with aesthetic-based fantasy worldbuilding!

(sidenote we're not calling this 'soft fantasy' bc there's already a hard/soft divide in fantasy: hard magic follows consistent rules, like "earthbenders can always and only bend earth", and soft magic follows vague rules that often just ~feel right~, like the Force. this frankly kinda maps, but I'm not talking about just the magic, I'm talking about the worldbuilding as a whole.

actually for the purposes of this post we're calling it grounded vs airy fantasy, bc that's succinct and sounds cool.)

a great example of grounded fantasy is Dungeon Meshi: the dungeon ecosystem is meticulously thought out, the plot is driven by the very realistic need to eat well while adventuring, the story touches on both social and psychological effects of the whole 'no one dies forever down here' situation, the list goes on. the worldbuilding wants to be engaged with on a mechanical level and it rewards that engagement.

deliberately airy fantasy is less common, because in a funny way it's much harder to do. people tend to like explanations. it takes skill to pull off "the world is this way because I said so." Narnia manages: these kids fall into a magic world through the back of a wardrobe, befriend talking beavers who drink tea, get weapons from Santa Claus, dance with Bacchus and his maenads, and sail to the edge of the world, without ever breaking suspension of disbelief. it works because every new thing that happens fits the vibes. it's all just vibes! engaging with the worldbuilding on a mechanical level wouldn't just be futile, it'd be missing the point entirely.

the reason I started off calling this aesthetic-based is that an airy story will usually lean hard on an existing aesthetic, ideally one that's widely known by the target audience. Lewis was drawing on fables, fairy tales, myths, children's stories, and the vague idea of ~medieval europe~ that is to this day our most generic fantasy setting. when a prince falls in love with a fallen star, when there are giants who welcome lost children warmly and fatten them up for the feast, it all fits because these are things we'd expect to find in this story. none of this jars against what we've already seen.

and the point of it is to be wondrous and whimsical, to set the tone for the story Lewis wants to tell. and it does a great job! the airy worldbuilding serves the purposes of the story, and it's no less elegant than Ryōko Kui's elaborately grounded dungeon. neither kind of worldbuilding is better than the other.

however.

you do have to know which one you're doing.

the whole reason I'm writing this is that I saw yet another long, entertaining post dragging GRRM for absolute filth. asoiaf is a fun one because on some axes it's pretty grounded (political fuck-around-and-find-out, rumors spread farther than fact, fastest way to lose a war is to let your people starve, etc), but on others it's entirely airy (some people have magic Just Cause, the various peoples are each based on an aesthetic/stereotype/cliché with no real thought to how they influence each other as neighbors, the super-long seasons have no effect on ecology, etc).

and again! none of this is actually bad! (well ok some of those stereotypes are quite bigoted. but other than that this isn't bad.) there's nothing wrong with the season thing being there to highlight how the nobles are focused on short-sighted wars for power instead of storing up resources for the extremely dangerous and inevitable winter, that's a nice allegory, and the looming threat of many harsh years set the narrative tone. and you can always mix and match airy and grounded worldbuilding – everyone does it, frankly it's a necessity, because sooner or later the answer to every worldbuilding question is "because the author wanted it to be that way." the only completely grounded writing is nonfiction.

the problem is when you pretend that your entirely airy worldbuilding is actually super duper grounded. like, for instance, claiming that your vibes-based depiction of Medieval Europe (Gritty Edition) is completely historical, and then never even showing anyone spinning. or sniffing dismissively at Tolkien for not detailing Aragorn's tax policy, and then never addressing how a pre-industrial grain-based agricultural society is going years without harvesting any crops. (stored grain goes bad! you can't even mouse-proof your silos, how are you going to deal with mold?) and the list goes on.

the man went up on national television and invited us to engage with his worldbuilding mechanically, and then if you actually do that, it shatters like spun sugar under the pressure. doesn't he realize that's not the part of the story that's load-bearing! he should've directed our focus to the political machinations and extensive trope deconstruction, not the handwavey bit.

point is, as a fantasy writer there will always be some amount of your worldbuilding that boils down to 'because I said so,' and there's nothing wrong with that. nor is there anything wrong with making that your whole thing – airy worldbuilding can be beautiful and inspiring. but you have to be aware of what you're doing, because if you ask your readers to engage with the worldbuilding in gritty mechanical detail, you had better have some actual mechanics to show them.

[navybrat817]

Mr. and Mrs. Barnes

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky suggests sneaking off at the gala. How can you resist?

Word Count: Over 3k

Warnings: Unprotected v. sex, sex in a closet, dirty talk, possessiveness, established relationship, slight insecurities, mention of breeding, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes and he's a simp for you (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Sorry, lovelies. I just really wanted this. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn’t bother to hide his discontent as he looked around at the ballroom. Was it a gala? Fundraiser? What cared? He hated functions like these. People were either there to kiss ass and move up the chain of command or gloat about how well off they were in life under the guise that they were doing good for others. He didn't attempt to converse with any of them, but still had to go as a way to support SHIELD in some capacity and show that he was no longer the Winter Soldier.

At least Steve and Sam were excused from the event due to a mission.

Leaning against one of the pillars and tugging at his bowtie, he spaced out momentarily. No one looked his way, but he still felt judged. Like he didn’t just belong at the event, but amongst anyone. He wanted to go home, get out of his tuxedo, and get the product out of his slicked back hair. He debated sneaking away from some air until he blinked and saw the reason he was truly there: you, the only real person in the crowd of liars and cheaters.

He never understood the expression of clothes clinging to someone like a second skin until you stepped into your floor-length black dress earlier this evening, the fabric enhancing every beautiful curve of your body. His eyes narrowed as you moved around the room and exchanged smiles and handshakes with people. Your aura drew people to you, men brushing against you and their stares lingering for far too long. It served as another reminder of why he didn’t want to go tonight, especially when a General gripped your arm.

If he had a glass in his hand it would’ve shattered.

Convincing you to stay in bed didn't work since you both had to make an appearance, but it didn't mean he wanted you apart from him. “Get over here,” he whispered, craving your attention, needing you close.

As if you sensed him seeking you out, likely feeling the weight of his stare, you turned to meet his gaze across the room. Your eyes sparkled with love that he never thought he’d receive in his lifetime. The kind of love he never wanted to be without again. “Would you please excuse me?” You asked loud enough for him to catch as you removed your arm from the man’s grip. “My husband is waiting for me.”

Your hips swayed as you worked your way toward Bucky, not stopping for any other man who tried to catch your eye. Hearing you call him your husband brought the first smile to his face since he arrived. He still couldn’t believe some days that you wanted forever with him. “I was wondering when my beautiful wife would remember I was here,” he said once you were close enough, reaching out for your hand.

The moment you took it, he stood tall and pulled you against him. He was certain no one else came close to the intimidating vibe he put out, his hold on you possessive as you smiled. “As if I could forget. Practically heard you growling when General Rando touched my arm,” you teased.

“Because he has no right to touch you,” he said, your lashes fluttering as you spun away. His hands guided you back to him. “I know you’re better with people than I am, which is why you’re the one who has to socialize and I’m sorry for that. But you also said I’m not allowed to break any fingers tonight and I won't be held responsible if he tries to touch you again.”

He swore he didn’t have a possessive bone in his body until you sauntered into his life, giving him hopes and dreams and longing.

You laughed at him, a seductive sound that had a few heads turning. “You do know I can break his fingers myself, right?”

He chuckled, leaning close to your ear and tickling your skin with his breath. “I know you're more than capable of kicking his ass. One of your many wonderful qualities,” he whispered. People underestimated you and that was always a mistake. “But I still don't like that he touched you like he wanted to own you.”

You rang a finger along his bowtie. “We all know who owns me and we know I own you, too,” you said, holding up your hand to show him your wedding ring. He tried to ignore how fast his heart pounded at the sight of his ring on your finger, the pledge you two made together. “In a very healthy, non-toxic sort of way, of course.”

He smirked, glancing around at the crowd before looking back at you. “Of course, but maybe we could give everyone a friendly reminder that we’re a happily married and loyal couple.” His voice dropped lower, teasingly. He wanted to make your heart race like his. “Or maybe we could sneak away for a bit. Make this night a little more interesting.”

“Sneak away?” You feigned innocence as you blinked at him. He was certain any innocence you had before he met you was gone thanks to him. “Whatever for?”

“You know what for. It’ll be like that expo we went to a few months ago.” Bucky tilted his head slightly, studying your face closely. He easily picked up your sharp inhale, the way your pupils dilated and lips parted. It was clear that sneaking off was something that very much interested you. “C’mon, baby. This gala is boring and neither of us want to be here. My idea is much more fun. You know it is.”

He touched your cheek, your skin warm under his hand. He wasn’t able to keep you in bed earlier like he wanted, but the thought of pulling you away and having you right here and now had his stomach fluttering with excitement. “This gala is boring,” you agreed carefully.

“Then let’s make it exciting.” His thumb brushed across your lips and it took everything in him not to push his thumb inside. “You made me come to this thing. Don’t I deserve something for showing up and behaving?”

“I haven't made you come yet.” His muscles went taut when you briefly sucked the digit into your mouth, electricity crackling under his skin. He admired your boldness, how you were unashamedly yourself in front of these people. You didn't and would never care what they thought. “And I didn't make you come to this event, but I can make it worth your while.”

He held your chin and moved close until only an inch separated your faces. Your eyes gleamed with a hunger that rivaled his. The air crackled between you, daring you both to give over to your obvious desires. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?” He rasped when you suddenly pulled back and helped move him across the floor in a dance.

“My plan? I thought sneaking away was your idea,” you smiled, guiding you both closer to the open doorway. “But if we can find a closet or dark corner, you can do whatever you want with me. And I’ll even let you fuck my throat first thing tomorrow morning for behaving.”

A rumbling, deep groan escaped his throat. His fingers dug in possessively when he gripped the nape of your neck and tilted your head so he could taste your skin. Your body molding against his, soft and yielding against his solid frame, wasn’t enough. There were too many clothes in the way and he wanted to bury himself deep inside you.

“You drive me crazy, Mrs. Barnes,” he whispered, lifting his head to look into your eyes.

“The feeling is mutual, Mr. Barnes.” You bit your lip once he waltzed you for enough away from prying eyes, the heat flaring between you. “I need you.”

Every nerve ending came to life when he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. His tongue plunged past your lips, holding you steady as he devoured you. You melted against him, which only brought forth his primal hunger more. His intensity never scared you and he would be forever thankful for that.

You gasped as your back hit a wall, the sounds of chatter and music from the ballroom muffled. Your nails scraped the fabric of his jacket, both of you lost in sensations of lust and desire. As one of your hands continued its journey to his shoulder, the other wandered down his torso and didn’t stop until you gripped his thick erection through his pants.

He abruptly broke the kiss when you gave him a squeeze, his eyes wild. “Fuck,” he breathed, gripping your wrist and pushing more firmly against your hand. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me.”

With dizzying speed, he spun you so that your back pressed against his front. You panted as his hand ventured through the slit of your dress and brushed along your trembling thigh. “Wait until you feel how wet I am,” you whispered, grinding your hips back against his.

His mouth brushed the exposed column of your throat, alternating between small bites and open mouthed kisses. “Still get wet for me?” He asked, massaging your breast with his vibranium hand and drawing another gasp from you when he pinched your nipple. He marveled at how much he could feel with that hand and how he’d never harm you with it.

“Have you seen yourself? One look from you and I’m soaked.” Your back arched as he bit down again. He wished he saw himself the way you did. “And you’re my husband. That craving for you isn’t going away.”

He rocked his hips against yours, seeking out more contact and friction as his cock throbbed and heart swelled. Marriage wasn’t a constant honeymoon phase. It took work. Effort. Compromise. But you were worth every moment, every struggle, every up and down.

Laughter from a few feet away had him lifting his head, both of you looking toward where the noise was coming from. “Fuck,” he snarled, wanting to scream at whoever it was to go the fuck away.

“There’s a closet around the corner. We just need to pick the lock,” you told him, smiling over your shoulder. “I may have scoped out the place in case this happened.”

He chuckled, utterly in awe of you. “I fucking love you,” he exhaled.

Walking with an aching hard-on wasn’t easy, but he managed to get you both further away from the ballroom. He picked the lock with record speed once you got to the door and moved you both inside. He flipped on the light, wanting to see as much of you as he could. For a moment, you two stared at each other and waited for the other to make a move. He loved the anticipation.

“I’m disappointed in you, Mr. Barnes,” you said, reaching for the doorknob to lock it. He was about to ask what he possibly did to upset you when you smirked. “You didn’t mention anything about me not wearing any panties.”

His cock was ready to burst from his pants. “Because that fucking clown out there interupted me,” he rumbled, pinning you against the door and crowding your body. His nose touched yours as he hiked your dress up, desperate to kiss you again. Eager to feel your wetness. “You trust me?”

It was a question he always asked. You put all of yourself into his care, your body, mind, heart, and soul. It was only fair that he made sure you still wanted him to be the one for you today, tomorrow, and every day after that. Even then a single lifetime would never be enough for him. He wanted a thousand lives with you.

“Always,” you said, an ache in your voice that he couldn’t resist. He fused his lips with yours, building up the fire all over again when his hand found your damp heat. The most intimate part of you where you allowed him to make himself at home. Your hands shook as you went to undo his pants, wanting to free him. “And you trust me?”

It wasn’t just his heart that contracted. His very soul trembled, wanting to wrap itself up in your light and love. “With everything in me,” he promised, sighing when he pulled his cock free from his underwear. “I’ll worship you later. Those gorgeous tits of yours. Your sweet cunt.”

Once you were home, he’d slip off your dress and give every beautiful inch of your body the attention it deserved. He’d draw a bath for you, too, and hopefully join you so he could simply hold you. But he was desperate for you now. He thought he’d burn if he didn’t have you.

You hiked a leg around him, moving your hips enticingly. There was only so much he could take. And who wouldn’t fall under the tempting spell of your body? “I’m ready for you.” Your soft moan echoed in his ears as he trailed a finger along your slit to your clit, barely touching it. He knew it would shoot small sparks through your body until you begged for more. “I mean it, Barnes. Get. Your cock. In me.”

“My needy little wife,” he whispered against your lips as he gripped the base of his cock and probed your entrance. The breathy sound you made when he began to push in had his blood pulsing in euphoria. It was a wonder he fit some days with how tight you were, but your slick heat stretched and welcomed him every time.

“My needy husband,” you smiled as you enveloped him completely, your fingers curling in his hair.

“What kind of man isn’t needy for his wife?” He began to thrust in deep, deliberate strokes. It matched the rhythm of the music in the distant ballroom, the two of you creating your own sultry dance. Maybe he would go up in flames. At least he’d have you to burn with. “Fuck, your body was made for my cock.”

Each snap of his hips tore more moans and whimpers from your throat and sent shockwaves through his system. You clenched around him with a smile, looking like a debauched angel. “My pussy was made for you, so ruin it.”

He groaned, his pulse beating strongly as his grip tightened on your hips. He fucked you without restraint, just as greedy for you as you were for him. Allowing himself to feel you and what you did to him was everything he was denied for so long. His life had only been order. Pain. You let him lose control. You gave him pleasure. Even a home.

I love you.

“I love you, too, Bucky,” you panted, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone as his eyes closed against the emotions threatening to surface. “I love you, too.”

His pace picked up, urgent, frenzied. At this rate, he might explode into fragments from your declaration and how good you felt. “You love me?” He bit out, his eyes opening and breaths harsh as he felt you clench again.

You cried out, his hand flying up to brace your head before it hit the door. “So much,” you moaned as you gazed at him. You were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Fierce in love and loyalty, patient and steadfast. He feared some days he’d need you more than you needed him, but you drove that thought from his mind. “I’m yours.”

“I’m not gonna last,” he warned. He couldn’t with the way you looked at him, the way your walls gripped him, knowing you were his.

“Neither am…” Your mouth fell open as your release hit you, your fluids drenching him. It was a wonder to watch you go over the edge in a blissful orgasm. He wanted to be right there with you.

“There you go. Good girl,” he encouraged, your body still tight around his cock. He erupted in one last thrust, his head falling back with an animalistic roar. “Fuck…”

Bucky braced a hand against the door, the other holding you like a lifeline. If only the two of you were at home so he could properly cuddle with you. His breathing remained ragged for a bit as he came down from his high, your breathing beginning to steady, too. He couldn't help but smile as he took in the sight of you thoroughly ravaged and satisfied. “Worth every second of being here,” he sighed, slowly pulling out of your twitching hole. You inhaled when he moved a hand down and swiped two fingers along the mess seeping out of you. “Clean them off for me, baby,” he ordered huskily, bringing them to your mouth.

Obediently, you parted your lips and allowed him to push his fingers in. You swirled your tongue around them to taste your combined essence, moaning at the tangy flavor. He tucked himself away once you finished up, afraid that he’d fuck you all over again if he didn’t get completely dressed. It didn’t stop him from gazing longingly at you as he fixed his jacket.

And it didn’t stop him from imagining your mouth around his cock the next morning.

“Now.” You grimmaced slightly as he helped you steady yourself and straighten out your dress. He knew that look. It was the look you got for a split second whenever the sticky remnants continued to trickle down your thighs. He loved having that claim on you. “How do you expect me to go back to the gala after that?”

“I don’t,” he smirked, his hands moving back to your hips as he snuck in a gentle kiss. “I think it’s time to get you home and back in our bed where you belong. I promised I’d worship you, remember?”

You nodded, your eyes still slightly dazed. “On one condition.”

He titled his head. “What’s that?”

A slow smile curved your mouth, his heart pounding and cock twitching back to life at your answer, “You put a baby in me tonight.”

So, lovelies, was it okay? I feel rusty. And who wants a future fic of Bucky breeding you? Just me? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[astrow1zar6]

Rising sign Observations~ how you first come off to others

Scorpio risings i noticed tend to be the most disliked out of all the rising signs off the jump so imma get into that one first. Scorpio risings have this “no time for bs” look which can come off as very intimidating & bitchy to others. They almost have this X-ray vision when meeting new people, they can tell who you are by talking to you for 5 minutes or even just observing how you act & if they don’t like it they will act accordingly. They don’t have time for social graces if they aren’t interested in you which can make people dislike them or view them as rude. They are just very real people tbh and if they catch a bad vibe they will not fake that they like you (which as a Capricorn rising I truly admire cuz I’m the same way). But once you get close enough where they can trust you these people are such soft babies at heart fr😭 I met a lot that had bad social anxiety and don’t be as strong and intense as they come off. These people are also like a vault you can vent to them about the deepest shit and you can trust no one will ever know. They also have these siren eyes that either scare the shit outta you or hypnotize you. People that love Scorpio risings are usually confident people who are true to themselves they are a repellent for phony vibes and energy. This is honestly one of my fav rising signs.

Libra rising on the flip side is a rising sign that doesn’t mind others being fake towards them or being a lil fake towards others, this is a trick to their charm they try to be what others want them to be whether it’s them or not. (Unless there are heavy Aries or Scorpio placements) this mask however is the reason why they are super popular and people are so attracted to them. They truly love being admired by others to the point they will be a kiss ass for validation. These people grew up paying attention to what made others tick and what people preferred which is why they are so likeable. They are usually seen as conventionally attractive as well (thanks to Venus’s influence) which is a great bonus to their already charming personality. Even if they aren’t conventionally attractive they are usually really aesthetically pleasing to look at whether it be how they wear their hair or makeup or fashion sense. They are big romantics and love flirting with attractive people & get a big ego boost from romantic attention (even if they aren’t into the person😭). I don’t really like this sign too much cuz I can see past the super nice bs most of the time but they are very engaging and usually hilarious so I’ll give them credit. They also really appreciate others who are good hearted as well (even though they end up attracting very assertive & harsh people lol). I respect how far these people go to make others feel comfortable and appreciated, their influence makes others believe there are still good people in the world. They are also not scared to stand up for any injustice they will go to war over what’s right! I respect it.

Capricorn risings are like the ice queens of the rising signs. Their face either looks pissed off all the time or it’s completely nonchalant and emotionless. Most people off jump assume these people are boring as shit and don’t think about anything other than work and ambitions which is very far from the truth. Deep down most are very sensitive and nurturing to those they trust but their inability to show vulnerability makes it hard to get any personality out of them. They are very selective with who they share their personality with you have to be a certain vibe. With some people they can come off as quiet and annoyed and with others they become extremely extroverted and funny. People honestly don’t talk about how HILARIOUS these people can be once they get comfortable with you (Sagittarius in the 12th house: hidden comedian). They have the best dry humor I’ve ever met and their comedic timing is perfect but it’s unfortunate because they are usually so shy at first people don’t even know they are. These were the kids that would say something hilarious under their breath in school and some loud asshole would hear it and copy what they said louder and the whole class dies laughing (this has happened to me sm🤦🏽‍♀️). They usually struggle with self confidence and social anxiety at a young age which is why many described them as “awkward kids”. They have this weird Benjamin Button affect where in childhood they can be quiet and super mature but as they age they become super goofy and careless, this the same concept with their looks as well (could’ve looked older when young but as they got old they look younger). They usually age like fine wine too btw.

Gemini risings are usually super smart people but they can come off as so ditzy and childish that most people really don’t know that they are that smart. I’ve seen people with this placement get straight As and have amazing credit scores but act like they are five personality wise😂. These people are so bubbly and childlike that it’s almost refreshing to be around (especially for more unexpressive signs). These people have an amazing ability to save anyone from an awkward conversation. If you’ve ever been in a group where no one knew what to say to eachother the minute a Gemini rising walks in it’s like “thank goddd”. These people are amazing conversationalists which can get them really far in life and help them become super popular! It’s usually a breeze for these people to get jobs I notice too they are usually amazing in interviews, they can attract opportunities to them super easily by just speaking. The only issue is they have a hard time keeping the opportunities they get so easily not because they are irresponsible (which sometimes is the case) but mostly out of boredom. Boredom are these people’s Achilles heel. Once the excitement dies from something new the move on to the next best think. It’s not uncommon to see these people change careers constantly or move every year, change their friend group and partners ect. They must learn stability is they really want to grow and mature and keep their eggs in one basket. They really crave this deep down inside (their taurus is in the 12th house: secretly wanting stability) but with such a restless nature it can be difficult. I also notice if afflicted these people can be SUPER obnoxious and can struggle with not talking, they sometimes can talk too much and gossip too much. Usually we’re always in trouble in school for “disrupting the class” or “talking when the teacher is talking” as children. But overall these people are big kids at heart and are very charming.

Pisces risings are usually extremely soft spoken and almost come off as too pure for this world. They are usually super kind and find it hard to say anything bad about anyone. Normally very quiet and can look like they are always in a daze. These people look like they are in la la land more than any Pisces placement imo. But don’t be fooled just because they seem super nice doesn’t mean all of them are. This placement is probably the hardest to tell if they are bad people because of how pure they come off they can manipulate anyone. They can be big soft spoken manipulators and people won’t even think twice that they’re being used with is truly impressive & a lil terrifying if you ask me. Many people believe they can do no wrong so they get away with a lot of shit. They usually prefer to be in their own little worlds than be in reality which can make them very creative but also very isolated at times. Like Capricorn, I notice they can struggle with social anxiety as well from a young age & could’ve believed their personalities were awkward and weird. They have so much empathy towards others because they could’ve been brought up where they needed to put others before themselves. My grandma had this placement and I asked her one time if you can have any wish what you’d it be and she responded with “ I would wish that everyone who was homeless would be able to have a home” I thought that was the most sweetest thing to wish for 🥺. These people though have an issue with avoiding responsibility because of how in their heads they can be, these are probably the biggest procrastinators of them all. They don’t do too well when it comes to being practical and neglect a lot of things in their life if it’s too overwhelming or requires too much energy. Which is why it’s important for these people to find ways to ground themselves or find a partner who is very grounded. ( I highly recommend to stay away from any type of substance abuse!!). They could’ve also been taken advantage of a lot because of their soft natured so many have trust issues when getting to know others.

Sagittarius risings are usually the loudest ones in the room, seriously though you can hear these people a mile away lol. Everything these people do is “big” from their personality, their laugh, their fashion ect. I’ve seen these people go both ways to some being super popular and adored or they are usually bullied for being obnoxious and attention seeking. These people have a bit of a “me first” way of thinking at times which can either bother others or be admirable. They usually love parties and are really fun to be around in big events like that. They are usually the ones in the middle of the dance floor or cracking jokes trying to make new friends. These people are also super smiley and cute lol they have such wholesome smiles. It’s rare to catch these people in a bad mood most people see them as very happy go lucky which attracts a lot of people to them. I most of the women with this placement are THICCC. Gives big hips and nice thighs and a nice 🍑👀.

Cancer risings i notice want to be babied emotionally & enjoy babying others emotionally as well. From the ones i met they need A LOT of emotional validation especially from their partner. This can be either sweet or draining depending on the person. Usually they are pretty open with their emotions even if they don’t try to be you can see it all over their face lol. They wear their heart on their sleeve. They really enjoy deep talks with the people they love and enjoy helping people get better after being sad. They would do amazing in caretaking careers such as nursing, hospice workers ect. What’s nice about these people is that they usually genuinely care about what’s wrong in your life and will listen for hours to someone vent. Helping people I notice gives them a sense of purpose. Most I meet were usually not nurtured properly growing up (especially by the mother) so they adopted this nurturing personality to others to sorta make up for what they lacked. They usually look very innocent and have big doe eyes and pale ghostly skin (think of Snow White). Even if from a different race they are usually the lightest in the family. They are also usually blessed with amazing mommy milkers iyk what I mean. They can however be pretty emotionally manipulative if they feel like they are losing someone (mostly a partner) they can almost guilt their partners to stay with them and fuck with their emotions if they feel a breakup coming (if immature however). They usually have pretty bad abandonment issues and don’t take people leaving their life well at all. They usually think about old friends/partners from years ago. They are very nostalgic people and hate change most of the time. It’s hard for them to move on to people they truly cared about even if they were super toxic.

Virgo rising’s usually come off to others as very humble and modest. Usually the least likely to brag about themselves to others, even though deep down they want too (Leo in the 12th house). They are normally pretty reserved and can come off as aloof at first but once they get comfortable they will definitely yap your ear off lol (mercury influence). These people are usually very smart and strived to get good grades in school. Could have been seen as the teachers pet. These were also the kids that were big know it alls lol they were those kids that argued with the teacher because they believed they were wrong😭 they can come off as snobby at times cuz of this which doesn’t really attract them a lot of friends. Most have a very small circle of close buddies that they hold dear to them. These people can either be super clean freaks or messy as shit no in between. I notice they prefer to wear comfy simple clothing, nothing to flashy or dramatic & they can pull off the natural face look great. I’ve seen that these people can struggle with sensitive skin as well and can have struggles with acne. Usually these people are super insecure about themselves (like most Virgo placements) they try to come off as perfect to everyone which usually burns them out pretty fast. They want others to admire them and see them as perfect so they go through great lengths to keep this image up. (Y’all don’t gotta do all that to impress others🥺). Usually gives a nerdy vibe to the person even if they don’t look nerdy on the outside they just give off that vibe a lot. Their love language is acts of service and if they love you they will do anything for you! I notice as well these people are very big on routines, if their routine gets messed up in any type of way they can get very pissy and irritated. Routines give them a sense of control so when they don’t have a solid routine they can act a bit unstable. They usually enjoy doing practical things like grocery shopping, laundry, cleaning for fun ect. Many can view them as pretty boring but they just enjoy the simple things in life that most people look over.

I don’t have time to talk about the others because I have work😩 but if you guys really dig these observations I will make a part two tomorrow ♥️☺️