#is it already my third time posting today? Yes who cares

[rireraa]

Look at them, just look

[buckets-and-trees]

Red, White & True: Election Day in New York, Pt. 1 [15/17]

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 7.2k Summary: Election Day is finally here, but the campaign certainly isn't over yet. The people need to get out and vote, and you and Steve put in more hard work to get them to the polls. But you can't ignore the new level you and Steve have stepped into for your relationship...

Content/Warnings: political/campaign discussions, marriage of political convenience, slow burn, really the slowest burn, strangers to lovers, EXPLICIT SMUT (oral - male and female receiving, vaginal intercourse, implied hand jobs, referenced shower sex)

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

Previous Chapter | Series

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

[NOVEMBER 3 - 8:32AM - TIMES SQUARE - MIDTOWN MANHATTAN]

“We all know it’s Election Day. Our team here at Good Morning America has been covering the developments you dedicated coverage for months, following the candidates, the debates, and the rogue run for the presidency by independent candidate and former Captain America Steven Grant Rogers, and in an unprecedented surprise development, we have the New York City native joining us here in studio right now,” Michael Strahan says, standing tall beside the news desk as the camera pans to reveal Steve sitting comfortably in one of the Good Morning America conversation chairs next to Robin Roberts and George Stephanopoulos.

"Good morning, America," Steve says with a small wave, his voice calm and steady despite the monumental day ahead. He looks impeccable in his navy suit, his signature red and blue campaign tie knotted perfectly at his throat. Your heart is racing and chest slightly heaving from the adrenaline of rushing across town and sprinting through the building to get Steve to the ABC studio in time for this last minute chance appearance, but Steve didn’t even break a sweat and looks cool as a cucumber on set. 

He is a super soldier, but he also didn’t have to do any of it in heels. 

"Captain Rogers, thank you both for being here on what must be an incredibly busy morning for you," George says, leaning forward slightly in his chair.

"I wouldn't miss it," you reply with a warm smile. "And please, call me Steve. New York is home, and I wanted to start this historic day right here."

“But we’re not your first stop, are we?” Robin jumps in. On the monitor next to you and Pepper, you can see them cutting to footage of you and Steve at your polling station to cast your ballots - which happened only just under an hour ago. “You’ve already been to Brooklyn to vote!”

Steve laughs, “Yes, we have! Voting is the most important thing every American can do today, so my wife and I made sure to take care of that the first chance we got!”

This stop hadn’t been on the itinerary, but your campaign press secretary had worked some sort of miracle and pulled many strings and announced as you got in a car to drive from The Plaza to your Brooklyn polling station that she’d managed to get Steve a five minute segment on the country’s most-watched morning show as long as you could make it into the studio by 8:30am. 

"Now, Steve, the polls are showing an incredibly tight race. Some are calling it the most unpredictable race in our nation’s history,” George says. “The most successful run a third party candidate made was Theodore Roosevelt in 1912. After serving two terms from 1901-1909, he said he was not interested in running for a third term, and the Republican nomination went to his Vice President William Howard Taft who went on to win and succeed Teddy Roosevelt as President, but he was unhappy with the direction Taft went, and sought the nomination again four years later. He didn’t get it, and so he ran as the candidate for the Progressive Party, and he actually earned 88 electoral votes.”

“That’s true, and I’m old, but this actually was still just before my time,” Steve confirms with a wink and a grin, effusing charm. “He won 27% of the popular vote, but Woodrow Wilson ended up taking in 435 votes in the electoral college.”

“Now there are two possibilities at the end of this election,” Robin takes the reins from her cohost for the next leg of the conversation. “The first and most straightforward is that one of the three candidates wins a simple majority, just 270 of the 538 electoral votes. But what happens if none of you reach that crucial 270 threshold?”

"If no candidate secures a majority,” Steve explains, “the House of Representatives holds a contingent election to choose the president, while the Senate does the same for the vice president. In the House, every state delegation has one vote, whereas in the Senate, each Senator votes individually." 

“That’s fascinating,” Robin replies.

"The Constitution's framers designed this process for exactly this kind of situation," Steve continues, his voice steady and clear. "It's happened before in our nation's history, though not since 1824." 

"And polls show this is a real possibility tonight," George adds, glancing at his notes. "How does that affect your strategy today?"

Steve leans forward slightly, his expression earnest. "Our strategy remains unchanged—connecting with voters until the last poll closes. Every state is a battleground state for us, not just the quote ‘traditional swing states.’ I think that’s one of the most dynamic parts of this election. But we would prefer if we could take a true 270-victory to keep it in the hands of every American voter. The people deserve to have their voices heard. That's what democracy is all about."

"Speaking of connecting with voters," Robin transitions smoothly, "your campaign has defied conventional wisdom at every turn. No party infrastructure, no traditional fundraising apparatus, yet here you are, competitive in nearly every battleground state. What do you attribute that success to?" 

You watch from just off-camera as Steve considers the question, his thoughtful pause not a hesitation but a careful, deliberate moment to find the words that matter.

"The American people are ready for something different," Steve says with quiet conviction. "They're tired of the political theater, the partisan gridlock. I was tired of it, too - that’s why I decided to do this, and what Charlie Young and I offer is simple: straight talk, clear vision, and a commitment to putting country above party." He smiles, that smile that has won over millions. "And I've been blessed not only with extraordinary supporters but a team of dedicated Americans who believed in this vision enough to work around the clock to make it possible."

George jumps in again and asks. "What's your message to voters who might still be undecided as they head to the polls today?"

Steve's expression grows more serious. "Vote your conscience. Not your fear, not your party loyalty, but your genuine belief in what America can and should be. This country has faced greater challenges than the ones before us now, and we've always emerged stronger when we've put our differences aside and focused on what unites us rather than what divides us. That's the America I believe in, and that's the America I hope to serve."

"And what about today's schedule?" Robin asks. "Where can voters expect to see you?"

"We'll be making stops in all five boroughs today," Steve replies. "We want to talk to as many people and thank as many people as we can. And then we'll be hosting a gathering in Central Park this evening as the results start coming in."

"And for those who haven't had a chance to meet you in person during the campaign," George says, "what would you like them to know about you as they head to the polls today?" 

Steve takes another brief moment, his expression thoughtful. "I'd want them to know that I've never stopped believing in what America can be. When I woke up in this century after being frozen for decades, I had to learn about a world that had changed dramatically. But the core of what makes this country special hasn't changed—it's still about people coming together, looking out for each other, and believing that tomorrow can be better than today if we're willing to work for it."

"And time for one last question," Robin says, glancing at the producer who's signaling from off-camera. "Win or lose, what happens tomorrow?" 

Steve smiles, a genuine warmth spreading across his features. "Tomorrow, the sun rises on America as it always has. And regardless of the outcome, I'll continue to serve this country in whatever capacity I can. That's been what I’ve done since 1943, and it hasn’t changed." 

"Captain Rogers—Steve—thank you for joining us this morning," George concludes, extending his hand. 

"Thank you for having me," Steve replies, shaking hands firmly with both hosts as the segment wraps. 

"And we're clear!" calls the floor director. The red lights dim, and the studio immediately buzzes with movement as crew members shift equipment for the next segment.

"That was great," Robin says warmly. "Good luck today, Steve."

"Thank you," he replies, his smile genuine but a touch weary around the edges in a way only you can detect.

"That was fantastic," Jake says, appearing at your side as Steve steps off the set. "You hit every key message point we wanted."

Steve's public face softens slightly as he turns to the two of you and Pepper, the practiced polish giving way to something more genuine. "Did it sound natural? That last answer felt a little rehearsed." 

"It was perfect," you assure him, straightening his already-perfect tie in a gesture that's become second nature. "Authentic but presidential." 

Lisa hurries over with a tablet displaying the updated schedule.

"That went incredibly well," Lisa says, swiping through her notes. "Social media engagement is already spiking. The clips will be running all morning."

"The quinjet is waiting," Pepper notes, checking her watch. "We need to be in Queens by nine-thirty."

Steve frowns. “The quinjet? Is that really necessary?”

Pepper smiles serenely. “We’re going to use all the resources at our disposal to get you where you need to be today. Quinjets are immune to traffic.”

[2:27PM - BROOKLYN]

Your body is humming with the adrenaline of five back-to-back events across New York City's five boroughs. After heading to Queens from the Good Morning America appearance, you’d then gone to the Bronx, back into Manhattan, ridden the Ferry to Staten Island to mingle with the crowd there before the actual Staten Island stop, and made the last stop in Brooklyn. 

You’re in a black SUV again now, and the motorcade weaves through the afternoon traffic, but instead of taking you back to Manhattan, every turn takes you deeper into Brooklyn. You exchange a puzzled glance with Steve as the familiar streets of your neighborhood come into view.

"Are we going where I think we're going?" you ask, leaning forward to catch Jake's eye in the front seat.

Jake turns, his expression a mixture of conspiracy and satisfaction. "Change of plans. We're taking you home."

"Home?" Steve repeats, his brow furrowing. "But the schedule had us back at the Plaza until the Central Park event."

"We only led you to believe that," Jake says, not quite meeting Steve's eyes. "Team decision. 

We don't trust either of you to actually rest if we take you back to campaign headquarters. You'll both be hovering over polling data and making calls until it's time for evening appearances."

"What?" you and Steve say in near unison, both of you immediately sitting up straighter. 

Jake's expression doesn't waver. "You heard me. You're going home to your actual home, and you're going to take a real break before tonight. The both of you are running on fumes." 

"Jake," Steve begins, his tone carrying that Captain America authority that usually brooks no argument.

"With all due respect," Jake interrupts, remarkably unfazed, "this isn't negotiable. You two need actual downtime before tonight. Sophia, Sam, Bucky, and I conferred with Pepper. It was unanimous, and Pepper pays my salary, not you."

Steve glances at you, a silent conversation passing between you. You can see the initial resistance in his eyes.

“We're confiscating your phones as well," Jake adds, putting his hand out expectantly. "If we need you, we'll communicate through the Secret Service agents."

You stare at Jake, mouth slightly agape, but realize you shouldn't be that surprised. The team has been protecting you both from burnout for months, orchestrating moments of respite amid the chaos whenever possible. Still, the boldness of this particular intervention catches you off guard, but you know he’s right. 

With a sigh of surrender, you hand over your phone. Steve hesitates a moment longer before reluctantly following suit. 

"Three hours," Jake says, pocketing both devices. "That's all we're asking. Eat something that isn't campaign trail food. Take a nap in your own bed. Change into fresh clothes. Just be normal people for a little while." 

The SUV pulls up to your brownstone, the one Steve purchased and that you haven’t spent more than a handful of days in since becoming his wife. It looks exactly as you remember—the freshly painted door, the window boxes that the property manager has maintained in your absence, the worn stone steps leading up to the entrance.

"We'll have agents downstairs," Jake continues as the Secret Service team conducts their standard perimeter check. "But inside, it's just the two of you."

"What about the press pool?" Steve asks, his sense of duty clearly warring with the temptation of a few hours of true privacy.

"Handled," Jake says firmly. "Why do you think we packed the news cycle for the first seven hours of your day?"

"And social media?" you ask, already anticipating that’s been covered, too.

“You surely noticed Peter Parker was your shadow across the five boroughs - he was gathering more than enough footage and photos to fuel the campaign until tonight.”

"You thought of everything," Steve observes, a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"That's my job," Jake responds with a smirk. "Now go. Rest. That's an order."

"Three hours," Steve agrees.

"Thank you," you add.

Jake smiles, genuine warmth replacing his earlier firmness. "See you at five-thirty. The car will be waiting."

As you step out of the SUV, the November air feels crisp against your skin. You and Steve walk briskly up to the front door, hand in hand, and a Secret Service agent opens it to let you inside. The brownstone welcomes you with familiar silence as the front door closes behind you. For a moment, you both stand in the foyer, as if reacquainting yourselves with the space that's meant to be yours but has seen so little of you.

"That was well-played by them," Steve finally says, his voice echoing slightly in the empty space.

"Very," you agree, taking off your coat and hanging it on the rack by the door. "But they're not wrong."

Steve follows suit, his jacket joining yours. "No, they're not," he admits, running a hand through his hair—a rare gesture of fatigue he allows himself only in private. "I haven't stopped moving since 5 AM."

You step closer to him, reaching up to loosen his tie. "And you were up at 4:30 checking polling data."

His hands settle on your waist, warm and steady. "You noticed that, huh?"

"Of course I did," you say softly, working the knot of his tie free and setting it on a small table near the front door. Then you tip your head up and kiss your husband. It’s sweet, soft, taking advantage of a moment you get to simply be together. He returns it in kind, and you feel the contentment bleeding from him into you. 

When you pull away, you rest your forehead against his chest and let out a contented sigh. "I'm starving," you admit, realizing you've barely eaten anything since the campaign breakfast at 6 AM. 

"Me too," Steve says, his stomach punctuating the statement with a rumble that makes you both laugh. "Let's see what we've got." 

You take his hand and lead him through the brownstone toward the kitchen. The house feels both familiar and strange—this space you've shared but never truly lived in together. Sunlight streams through the tall windows, highlighting dust motes dancing in the air and casting warm patterns across the hardwood floors. Your heels click against the wood, and you pause to slip them off, leaving them beside a decorative bench in the hallway.

"Much better," you sigh, wiggling your toes in relief. 

The kitchen is spotless and eerily untouched, yet somehow welcoming. Steve opens the refrigerator, his expression turning to surprise.

"It's fully stocked," he says, glancing back at you. "Someone thought of everything." 

You peek around his shoulder to see fresh produce, eggs, cheese, and various containers neatly arranged on the shelves. "Sophia," you guess. "She would remember we haven't actually lived here."

Steve pulls out ingredients—bread, cheese, deli meats, tomatoes, and lettuce. "Sandwiches?" he suggests, already moving with purpose around the kitchen. 

"Perfect," you agree, hoisting yourself onto one of the counter stools to watch him work. There's something mesmerizing about seeing Steve in such a domestic setting, his movements efficient yet relaxed as he assembles lunch. Your mind wanders back to the last time you were in this kitchen together, making chocolate chip cookies, and though things had been developing between the two of you, it was at that point when you started to feel the reality of your relationship and the roots of it being permanent, of going beyond a political arrangement, of genuine love and affection.

Steve must have been thinking along similar lines, because as he assembles sandwiches for you both, he says, “I never told you how nervous I was for you to come here for the Oprah interview.” 

"Nervous?" you ask, surprised. "Why? Because Oprah was coming?"

"No," he says with a small laugh, carefully slicing a tomato into perfect, even rounds. "Because you were. This was the first place that was really mine in this century. I'd had apartments, quarters at the Avengers compound, but this..." His knife pauses as he gestures around the kitchen. "I chose every detail. And I knew you’d been here before - for the nights around the wedding, but there weren’t emotional stakes back in June, and then suddenly I was seeing it all through your eyes."

You slide off the stool and move to stand beside him, picking up a knife to help with the sandwich preparations. 

"There was this moment after dinner," Steve says, glancing up with warmth in his eyes, "we had a few minutes before the team was going to prep for camera angles with us in the living room, and you ran your fingers slowly along the banister while we talked, then walked over and lingered by the windows. It was the first time I saw you truly relax around me."

"I didn't realize I was so transparent," you admit, watching as he layers turkey and cheese onto whole grain bread.

"Not transparent. Just... seen." He slides a completed sandwich toward you on a plate so you can cut it in half. "By me, anyway."

The simple statement carries weight that settles comfortably in your chest. 

You take a bite of your sandwich, the fresh ingredients a welcome change from campaign trail food. "You really see me, don't you?" you say after swallowing. "Even back then, when we barely knew each other." 

"I think I've always seen you," Steve replies, his voice soft as he leans against the counter opposite you. "Even when I was trying not to." 

You both eat in comfortable silence for a few moments, the simple pleasure of a homemade meal in your own kitchen feeling like an extraordinary luxury after months of catering and takeout in hotel dining rooms, busses, planes, and at campaign events. 

Steve finishes his sandwich in record time and makes himself another while you're still working on your first.

"Super soldier metabolism," you tease, watching him assemble a second sandwich with practiced efficiency.

"I've been running on fumes, remember?" he says in a pained voice. "Haven't had a real meal in years."

You study him as he eats, noticing the slight tension around his eyes, the way he occasionally rolls his shoulders to release stiffness. Steve Rogers, ever the soldier, pushing through every bit of fatigue he’s determined to ignore, and all without complaint.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, catching your contemplative gaze.

"Us," you answer honestly. "How strange it is that we've been married for months but this is the first time we’re getting to do this, be this.”

"Normal life," Steve says, nodding. "Just being together without a schedule, without cameras." His eyes hold yours, warm and thoughtful. "I want more of this. After today, regardless of the outcome." 

You set your sandwich down, suddenly emotional at the simple truth of his words. "Me too." 

Steve reaches across the counter, taking your hand in his. His thumb traces gentle circles on your skin, the gesture so familiar now it feels like a language all its own. 

"I keep thinking about what happens after," you admit. "If you win, if you don't, everything changes again."

"Some things change," Steve agrees, his voice steady. "But not us. Not this." He squeezes your hand gently. "I meant what I said last night." 

Heat rises to your cheeks at the memory of tangled sheets and whispered confessions. "I know you did. I did too.”

Steve finishes his second sandwich, takes a long drink of water, then wipes his mouth on his napkin and turns to face you. You look up at him and lick your lips, his eyes darting down to catch the movement.

"Come upstairs with me," he murmurs, his voice dropping to that low register that sends warmth spreading through your limbs. "We have two and a half hours left before we have to face the world again."

You step closer, your body fitting against his as naturally as breathing. "What did you have in mind, Captain Rogers?" you ask, a teasing lilt in your voice despite the way your heart quickens.

His eyes darken slightly as he looks down at you, his hand coming to rest on your waist. "A nap," he says with mock seriousness. "Jake's orders, remember?"

"Just a nap?" you challenge, raising an eyebrow. 

Steve's mouth curves into that half-smile that makes your stomach flip as his hand squeezes at your waist. "Just a nap," he confirms. "But I can't be held responsible for what happens before or after said nap."

You laugh softly, your hands sliding up his chest to rest on his shoulders. "Then by all means, how can I refuse?"

Steve scoops you up in one fluid motion, drawing a surprised gasp from you as he carries you toward the stairs. Your arms loop around his neck, fingers threading through the short hair at his nape.

"Show-off," you murmur against his ear.

"Efficient," he corrects, navigating the stairs with ease despite your added weight. "We're on a schedule, remember?"

You’re up two flights of stairs in next to no time. 

The master bedroom is bathed in afternoon light, the cream curtains softening the November sun into a gentle glow. The bed is made with fresh linens—another thoughtful touch from whoever prepared the house for your brief visit. Steve closes the door behind you, though there's no one else in the house to hear or see.

Steve sets you down gently at the foot of the bed, his hands lingering at your waist as yours slide up his chest.

For a moment, you simply breathe together, the campaign, the election, the world outside all fading away until there's just this—you and Steve, husband and wife, in a quiet room on an extraordinary day.

His lips find yours with gentle precision, the kiss unhurried despite the ticking clock. Steve's fingers work at the buttons of your blouse while you loosen his belt, both of you unhurried yet deliberate. There's no need to rush—this stolen time is yours alone.

"I keep thinking about how surreal this is," you murmur as he trails kisses down your neck, your blouse now hanging open. "In a few hours, you could be the President-elect."

His hands pause their exploration, and he pulls back slightly to meet your gaze, his eyes serious despite the flush on his cheeks. "Or not," he says. “It’s always been a long shot.”

“But not an impossible shot,” you counter. 

He smiles, cupping your face in his hands. "No. Not impossible." The fire you see in Steve’s eyes is there - you know he’s not feeling defeated, just tempering expectations, optimistic but realistic. 

Your fingers trace the contours of his face, memorizing every line, every plane. The enormity of it all washes over you—not just the election, but this journey you've taken together, the unexpected path that led you here.

"Whatever happens tonight," you whisper, "this is what matters. Us."

Steve's hands thread through your hair, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. The intensity there makes your heart stutter. "Always," he agrees, voice low and certain.

You slide your hands down his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm. A surge overtakes you—the need to show him with actions what words can't fully express. With deliberate slowness, you sink to your knees before him, maintaining eye contact as you undo his belt completely and lower his zipper with careful precision. His breath catches audibly, his hands moving to your shoulders as if to steady himself. You can feel the tension in his muscles, the way he holds himself with perfect control.

"You don't have to," he murmurs, though his dilated pupils tell a different story. 

"I want to," you reply, your voice soft but certain. 

His eyes darken further at your words, and he gives a small nod, surrendering to your touch. You ease his trousers down his hips, followed by his boxer briefs, revealing his already hard length. The afternoon light plays across his skin, highlighting the perfect planes of his muscled abdomen, the definition of his thighs. 

Your fingers trace up the inside of his leg, feeling the slight tremor that runs through him at your touch. You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his hip bone, feeling him inhale sharply at the contact. When you finally take him into your mouth, his strong but gentle hands come to cradle your head in his hands, not guiding, just connecting.

"God," he breathes, the single word heavy with desire. 

You take your time, savoring the weight of him on your tongue, the taste of his skin, the sound of his breath catching and releasing above you. The afternoon light streams through the curtains, casting a golden glow across his taut abdomen, highlighting the perfect definition of muscle beneath smooth skin. You watch his face as you move, captivated by the way his eyes darken and his lips part slightly with each slow stroke. 

Your hands slide up his thighs, feeling the powerful muscles flex beneath your touch. His fingers remain gentle in your hair, neither pushing nor pulling, just maintaining that intimate connection between you. You hollow your cheeks and take him deeper, drawing a low, rumbling groan from deep in his chest that sends a shiver of satisfaction through you. 

"You're incredible," he murmurs, his voice strained and husky.

You lose yourself in the rhythm, in his reactions, in the way his breathing grows more ragged with each passing moment. His thighs tense beneath your hands, and you glance up to see his head tilted back, eyes closed, lips parted. The sight of him—powerful, vulnerable, yours—sends heat pooling low in your abdomen. 

When his control finally breaks, it's with your name on his lips, his hands still cradling your face with impossible firmness that’s still gentle even as pleasure overtakes him and you eagerly swallow him down. 

After, he helps you to your feet, his expression a mixture of satisfaction and determination that makes your pulse quicken. His hands never seem to leave your body as he carefully removes each article of your clothing, scorching your skin, spiking the desire with each touch. He turns you both and presses your back up against the bedroom door. 

"My turn," he whispers against your mouth, the words a promise that sends even more anticipation coursing through you.

Steve is not slow in kneeling before you and hitching one of your legs up over his shoulder, burying his head into your wet cunt. His breath is hot against your most sensitive flesh, and you can't help the gasp that escapes your lips as his tongue makes first contact. 

Your back presses harder against the door as Steve's large hands grip your hips firmly, anchoring you in place. The contrast of the cool wood against your heated skin makes you shiver—or perhaps it's the intense way he's looking up at you, his blue eyes darkened with desire.

"Hold onto me," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that you feel more than hear.

You thread your fingers through his hair, the soft strands tickling your palms as he presses open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh. Each touch of his lips is deliberate as he works his way back to your core with agonizing slowness. His stubble creates a salacious friction against your sensitive skin, the slight sting only heightening your anticipation.

When he finally returns his attention to your center, you grip his hair tighter, your head falling back against the door with a soft thud. His tongue moves with purposeful precision, circling your clit before flattening against it, sending sparks of pleasure radiating outward. Your breathing grows ragged as he establishes a rhythm that has your knees weakening, grateful for his strong hands keeping you upright.

"Steve," you gasp, the single syllable carrying everything you can't articulate—need, love, desperation. 

He responds by doubling his efforts, sliding one hand from your hip to slip two fingers inside you. The dual sensation of his mouth and fingers working in tandem has you climbing rapidly toward release, your body tensing with each stroke. 

"That's it," he encourages against your flesh, the vibration of his voice adding another layer to the building pleasure. "Let go for me, sweetheart.”

The leg draped over his shoulder trembles as tension builds within you, coiling tighter with each expert movement of his mouth. Your fingers tighten in his hair, earning a low groan from him that vibrates against your sensitive flesh, the sensation pushing you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes through you in waves, your body arching against the door as Steve works you through it, his movements slowing but not stopping until you're gasping, oversensitive, and tugging gently at his hair to signal you need a reprieve.

He rises to his feet in one fluid motion, his hands steadying you as your knees threaten to buckle. His mouth finds yours in a deep, claiming kiss that has you tasting yourself on his lips. Despite having just found release, desire flares anew at the intimate gesture. 

"Bed," you manage between kisses, tugging him toward the mattress. "Now."

Steve follows willingly, his renewed arousal evident against your hip as you both stumble onto the freshly made bed. The sheets are cool beneath your hands and knees as you crawl up the mattress, Steve right behind you. He positions himself over you, his chest against your back, hips rutting against yours. 

His lips find the sensitive spot at the nape of your neck, sending shivers down your spine as his hardness presses insistently against you. You arch your back, pressing your hips back against him in silent invitation. His hand slides around to cup your breast, thumb circling your nipple as his other hand guides himself to your entrance. 

"Yes," you breathe, the word half-plea, half-permission. 

Steve enters you with one slow, deliberate thrust that has both of you gasping. He stills for a moment, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. The fullness, the connection—it's overwhelming in the best possible way. 

"I love you," he murmurs against your skin, the words reverent and raw. 

"I love you too," you reply, reaching back to touch his face, needing that additional point of contact. 

He begins to move, slow and measured at first, letting you both savor each sensation. His rhythm builds steadily, each thrust slightly deeper, slightly harder than the last. Your other hand clutches at the sheets, anchoring yourself as pleasure builds once more. The only sounds in the room are your mingled breaths, occasional whispered endearments, and the soft rustle of sheets beneath you.

"Faster," you plead, pushing back against him to emphasize your need.

Steve's restraint breaks at your words. His pace increases, each thrust more powerful than the last, the new angle hitting the intimate spot along your front wall that sends you to another level, and you moan. 

His hand slides from your breast down to where your bodies join, his fingers finding your sensitive bundle of nerves with unerring precision. The stimulation has you climbing rapidly toward another peak, your inner walls clenching around him as tension builds.

"Steve," you gasp, the word both warning and plea. 

"I've got you," he promises, his voice strained with his own building release. "Always." 

Your second orgasm crashes through you with surprising intensity, your body shuddering beneath his as waves of pleasure wash over you in relentless succession. Steve follows moments later, his rhythm faltering as he spills inside you with a deep groan that reverberates through your connected bodies.

For several heartbeats, you remain locked together, both catching your breath as the aftershocks of pleasure gradually subside. Steve presses tender kisses along your shoulder, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace that makes you feel cherished beyond words. 

When he finally eases out of you, you both collapse onto the mattress, limbs entangled, skin cooling in the quiet afternoon air. Steve gathers you into his chest, his arm draped protectively over your waist.

"That certainly not a nap," you murmur against his jaw, your voice languid with satisfaction, lips brushing against his beard.

Steve's chest rumbles with quiet laughter. "We still have time," he points out, but the way his hand roams your back and the push of his thigh between your legs suggests he’s not considering sleep just yet.

And you don’t sleep. 

You kiss, you grind and grope and pleasure each other some more. After what seems like far too soon but is an hour later, Steve coaxes you out of the bed, but into the shower where he fucks you again against the cool tiled wall. 

"It feels strange," you admit, wrapping a towel around your torso. "Being here when there's so much happening."

Steve nods. "Strange but good," he says, his shoulders squared but relaxed for the first time in weeks. "Jake was right."

"Don't tell him that," you say with a small laugh. 

Steve laughs, securing his own towel around his waist before stepping behind you to wrap his arms around your middle, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "Our secret, then." 

You lean back against him, savoring the solid warmth of his chest against your back, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. For a moment, you both stand there, reflected in the slightly fogged bathroom mirror—your skin flushed, hair damp, eyes bright. You look happy. Both of you. Despite the weight of expectation hanging over this day, despite the exhaustion of the campaign trail, despite the uncertainty that awaits.

You check the clock on the wall—nearly five o'clock. The bubble you've been living in for the last few hours is about to pop.

"We should get ready," you say reluctantly, running your fingers through your damp hair. "Car will be here in thirty minutes."

Steve nods, but instead of moving toward his clothes, he stays exactly where he is, arms around you, lips pressing warm kisses along your shoulder. "Five more minutes," he whispers against your skin, and you're tempted—so tempted—to give in, to stay locked in this private world where it's just the two of you, no campaign, no country watching, no history being made.

But duty calls, as it always does. 

"Five minutes," you agree, turning in his arms to face him. "But actual getting ready has to happen." 

Steve's eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles down at you. "Deal." His hands come up to frame your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones with such tenderness it makes your chest ache. "Whatever happens tonight," he says, his voice low and serious, "this has been the greatest adventure of my life." 

"Better than fighting aliens?" you tease, but your voice catches on the words. 

"Much better," he confirms without hesitation. "Fighting alongside the Avengers was about saving the world. This—" his hand gestures between you, encompassing everything unspoken, "—this has been about making it better."

The weight of his words settles over you, and you rise on your tiptoes to press your lips to his in a kiss that carries everything you can't articulate—gratitude, love, partnership, hope. 

When you pull away, Steve's eyes remain closed for a beat, as if he's committing the moment to memory. Then he inhales deeply, his shoulders squaring with familiar determination. 

"Time to get dressed," he says, dropping one final kiss to your forehead before stepping away. 

You both move with practiced efficiency, the routine of preparing for public appearances so ingrained now it requires little thought. Steve selects a fresh navy suit—the same color as this morning but a different cut. After taking care of your hair and makeup, you stand much longer flipping through the options in your closet, considering the wardrobe that has been expertly curated and tailored for you but that you’re largely unfamiliar with since these clothes have been here, not on the road with you. 

As you rifle through options, it doesn't help that your eyes keep being drawn to a very conspicuous piece at the very end. 

The conspicuous garment bag with your wedding dress. 

Your fingers brush against the protective plastic, memories of that day flooding back with unexpected intensity. The intricate lace, the delicate beading that caught the light as you walked down the aisle in that small Brooklyn church. It had been a practical choice at the time—a wedding arranged for political strategy, not romance.

"You were so beautiful that day," Steve's voice comes from behind you, startling you slightly as you hadn't heard him approach. His reflection appears in the mirror beside yours, his eyes soft with remembrance. "I could see that, and I knew you had to be great—Pepper had promised me she'd pick the partner I needed, but I never imagined I was meeting the love of my life." 

You chuckle, though your eyes glisten slightly with tears—partly because Steve's words move you, and partly because, in hindsight, you recognize that day was tougher than you ever initially allowed yourself to admit. 

"I didn't expect this, either," you admit, turning to face him properly. "Any of it. I thought I was making a political arrangement with a good man. I never imagined..." You gesture between you, at the intimacy that has grown between you, unexpected and profound. 

“You were beautiful that day, but you also looked so determined, so fearless, I was thrown for a loop.”

You laugh again. “Are you serious? I was walking down the aisle to marry Captain America, who was still technically a stranger to me since he’d ditched our first date to meet a former president instead, and I’d also had a rather tense conversation where I’d just revealed to my parents why I was really rushing in to a marriage that hadn’t been on their radar at all. I was all game face and determination because I was barely holding it together.”

Steve's expression softens, and he reaches out to cup your cheek. "I had no idea. Like I said, you seemed so composed."

"That's what you saw," you say, leaning into his touch. "Years of practice hiding nerves. But inside, I was a mess. There was no turning back. And I didn't want to, even though I knew it wouldn’t be easy. And then you took my hand and it felt..."

"Steadying," he finishes for you.

"Yes," you admit. 

"Even then, something about us just worked." His thumb traces your cheekbone. He sighs. “I wish we could do it all over again, do it right.”

You shake your head, responding immediately, “I don’t! There’s no way we’re here, like this, exactly this kind of in love if we’d done it any other way.” You take his other hand in both of yours as you continue, “This version of us is what I want for the rest of our lives.”

Steve kisses you fiercely, and when you break apart, he says, "You're right, I know you're right, but I didn't even propose to you."

You blink, surprised by the sudden intensity in his voice. "What?" 

"I never proposed," he repeats, taking both your hands in his. His eyes are bright with emotion. "You deserved that moment, at least. A real proposal, not a political arrangement hammered out over pitches and contracts."

A smile tugs at your lips. "Steve, we're married, that’s the important thing." 

"I know." His thumbs trace circles on your palms, a gesture so familiar now it feels like a language all your own. Then he reaches out to touch the garment bag, his fingers tracing the outline of the dress within. "We should renew our vows," he says. "After all this. A real ceremony, for us this time."

The suggestion catches you off guard, but warmth spreads through your chest at the thought. "I'd like that," you say softly.

A knock at the bedroom door - muffled as it’s filtered from the bedroom to the en suite bathroom - interrupts the moment. "Five minutes, sir, ma'am," comes the voice of one of the Secret Service agents.

"Thank you," Steve calls back, his eyes never leaving yours.

You turn back to your wardrobe. “You go, you’re distracting! I’ll be down in just a few minutes.”

“Alright,” he laughs. "I'll see you downstairs," he says, pressing one more quick kiss to your temple before moving to the door. He pauses with his hand on the knob, looking back at you with an expression that makes your heart skip. "Thank you. For everything."

Before you can respond, he's gone, leaving you with your thoughts and a closet full of clothes. You run your fingers over the options, finally selecting a dark green dress that complements Steve's navy suit. 

As you slip into the dress, your mind races with possibilities for the night ahead. The polls have been unpredictable, the race unlike any in modern history. By morning, your life could look dramatically different—or perhaps not. Either way, something fundamental has shifted during these months of the campaign, and there's no going back to who you were before. The woman who walked down the aisle in that wedding dress feels like a stranger now—someone who couldn't possibly have imagined where this path would lead.

You give yourself one final check in the mirror, smoothing your hands over the tailored dress that was built to fit your body like a glove, giving you confidence in your curves, and adjusting your hair. The face that looks back at you is tired but luminous, eyes bright with purpose and something else—a quiet confidence that wasn't there before. Whatever happens tonight, you're ready. 

next part: Election Day, part 2

Coming toward the end of the series, I'm back with a regular Friday update! Ta da! Are you proud of me? 🥹

Somehow I thought Election Day would be one chapter, but since it's such a big day, it was inevitable that it would need to be split in two - I just didn't know that until we got here hahaha! When I got to this point in the chapter, we should just be glad it leant itself to a natural enough breaking point. Story-wise there are just about as many scenes left for them for the second half of this very long and essential day.

But I'm also happy that we'll get to have one more chapter (and probably an epilogue...tbd on the election results).

(and tbh, I'm only 90% locked in on my decision for the election results...)

↠ 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!

[boohorns1136439]

Learning to belong ~ poly!MHA x fem!Reader (01)

I didn’t expect to drop the first chapter so fast. Thank you everyone who liked and/or commented on my previous post !! Hope y’all will like this one !!

Summary <- 01 -> 02

Masterlist

Taglist

Warning: I don’t know anything about hospital or how they actually work, I tried to make it accurate as much as possible, cursing ?

tags: aged-up characters ; Pack! Izuku Midoriya X Bakugo Katsuki X Shoto Todoroki X Kirishima Eijirou ; Omega!Izuku Midoriya ; Omega!Bakugo Katsuki ; Omega!Shoto Todoroki ; Omega!Kirishima Eijirou ; technically Beta!Reader ; afab!Reader ; modern Au ; post-UA ; Reader has a quirk ; non hero!Reader ; eventually smut

Also, reader is bisexual !

Working in a hospital was always exhausting. You never imagined yourself becoming a doctor; in fact, you never even dreamt of it. But with a healing quirk like yours, combined with the prestige and respect the profession brought, you felt pushed into it. It wasn’t so bad, though. Being a beta, you had an edge here. In a place where emotions ran high and pheromones flooded the air, you stayed grounded. While alphas and omegas could be thrown into chaos by the scent and pheromones around them, you kept your cool. It was one of the few perks of being a beta in a high-stress environment like this.

Today felt no different from the others as you made your way down the sterile hallway, heading for your next patient. Just as you were about to enter their room, the sound of hurried footsteps caught your attention. A group of paramedics rushed past you, wheeling a stretcher with a patient barely visible under layers of blankets.

The moment they passed, the air shifted. The doctor in charge, a tall, sharp-eyed alpha, started barking orders at the nurses, his voice cutting through the usual calmness of the hospital. You could tell by the urgency that this wasn’t just any patient. No, this had to be someone important. A pro-hero, maybe? It wouldn’t be the first time one of them was brought in after a brutal fight. For a moment, curiosity sparked inside you, and you wondered who they were. But duty called. You pushed open the door to your patient’s room, the soft click of the handle snapping you back into focus. Your professional demeanor slid into place like a well-worn mask.

"Good morning! How are you feeling today?"

The patient shifted under the thin sheet, eyes half-closed.

"Better, I think... Still sore, though," they murmured.

You nodded, already making mental notes.

“That’s to be expected. Let’s have a look at those vitals and see how you're doing.”

After finishing up with your patient, the day moved on with the usual requests and minor chaos of the hospital. It wasn’t long before Asuna, the cute omega nurse, approached you again, her brown eyes wide as she asked

“Please, Y/N, I really need to leave early today. I swear I’ll buy your lunch tomorrow.”

You couldn’t help but wonder why people always came to you for favors. It wasn’t like you had a particularly welcoming vibe, yet somehow, this was the third time she had asked you to cover her last round so she could head out early.

“Y/N, I promise, it’s the last time.”

Her wide brown eyes locked onto yours, and you knew she had you. It wasn’t the first time Asuna had asked for a favor, and you doubted it would be the last.

“Alright, Asuna, you’re a pain in the ass. This is the last time, though. I mean it,” you said, though your tone didn’t carry much conviction.

Her smile brightened, and with a quick, “Thank you, Doctor L/N!” she handed you her patient list and dashed off to the locker room.

You shook your head slightly, more amused than annoyed. People always seemed to assume you were an easy target for these things, but the truth was, you just didn’t care enough to make a big deal out of it. Besides, it was easier to say yes and get on with your day than to fight over it. Since she was assigned to the hero wing, you made your way there, your steps steady and automatic. The hero wing wasn’t all that different from the rest of the hospital, just quieter. The lighting was a bit softer, and the rooms offered a little more privacy, but beyond that, it was still a hospital—white walls, the faint scent of disinfectant in the air, and the steady hum of medical equipment. You made your way down the familiar hallway, passing a few closed doors until you reached the patient’s room at the end.

After a brief knock on the door with no response, you entered the room, heading straight for the bed. Their room was larger than most, with enough space to accommodate any necessary equipment, but otherwise, it was like every other patient room. The sunlight filtered through thin blue curtains, casting a dull glow over the room. You checked the vitals on instinct, your eyes drifting to the patient, and then froze when you realized who you were looking at pro-hero Shoto Todoroki.

Seeing him up close was something else. One of Japan’s most famous heroes, practically a celebrity, and here he was, fast asleep in front of you. His hair rested against his shoulders, the unusual coloring drawing your attention in a way you couldn’t quite explain. His features were sharp yet soft and refined, but it was the contrast in his appearance, much like an exotic bird, that caught your eye. There was something striking, captivating about the way he looked. He was just... pretty. There was no other way to describe it. Everything about him screamed "pretty boy." You were so captivated by the length of his lashes, thick and dark against his skin, that you didn’t even notice when his eyes opened and met yours.

The two of you stared at each other in silence for what felt like an eternity. You’d heard Shoto was on the quieter side, but this silence felt different, as if he were trying to figure out why a doctor had been watching him sleep. It was unprofessional—creepy, even—and you had no valid excuse for why you were still staring. The awkwardness of the moment built until it was unbearable, and just as you opened your mouth to apologize, you noticed something shift in his gaze.

There was something more beneath it now, something charged. His cheeks flushed, the soft pink blossoming across his skin like a dahlia. The color spread gradually, delicate at first but quickly deepening into a rich, vibrant hue. His wide eyes, one blue and one gray, darkened as his pupils expanded, a hazy look settling in them. As if he was suddenly hyperaware of every breath you took. The heart monitor’s consistent beeping suddenly picked up pace, the rhythm escalating without warning.

Instinctively, you reached out, your hand barely grazing his shoulder. His entire body trembled at the touch. It was immediate, his body responding to even the slightest touch.

Then, in a small, broken voice, he whispered.

“Alpha... please…”

You almost laughed at the absurdity of it, the words so out of place that they felt like a joke. But before you could react, a scent hit you, so strong and unexpected that it threatened to short-circuit your brain.

Alright, I did the first one. As always, I like criticism and I find them really helpful so don’t hesitate to tell me if something is weird or wrong about my writing !!

Big thank you to @cafekitsune who made the beautiful dividers !

Summary <- 01 -> 02

Taglist

[loverboysturn]

── re-introducing popular!matt & tutor!reader

masterlist here

note: this has been in the drafts a WHILE !!! but they are finally back :)

if matt sturniolo is anything, he is persistent.

he’s charming, but he’s also relentless. he is, alongside his brother chris, the campus’s golden boy with far too many admirers and far too much attention following him everywhere and anywhere he goes. he’s a smooth talker but with a reputation, and theres a new girl hanging off his arm at every party, but recently the only girl that he seems to be interested in is you.

the only girl who wants absolutely nothing to do with him. 

you’d heard the stories, scrolled through post after post about him posted by anonymous buzz on campus connect, always documenting all of his hookups and late night antics like it was breaking news, and every time you heard new gossip about matt and his friendship group, you swore to yourself that you’d never fall for someone like that, but that hasn’t stopped him from trying with you.

the first time that he asked you to tutor him was after a lecture. you and your best friend were headed to the canteen when out of nowhere he suddenly appeared directly in your path.

“hey, you’re smart, right?” he asked, looking up at you with his usual smirk. 

you barely even glanced at him.

“i need a tutor, can you help me?” 

his question made you stop in your tracks, turning to face him with an eyebrow raised. “huh? is that a joke?” 

he grinned, that infamous grin that most girls seemed to melt for, “do i look like i’m joking, pretty girl?”

“yes,” you tried to move, but he followed your steps, blocking your path again. “not today, sorry matthew” 

"it's just matt—"

but you walked off before he could say anything else. you heard him laugh behind you, he wasn’t offended, and he certainly had not been defeated by your rejection, and you should've know then that he wouldn't give up easily.  

then came the second time he asked. 

you were tucked into your usual spot in the library, your headphones in, your hoodie up, fully focused on the work in front of you when you felt the chair across from you being pulled out, and someone filling the empty space.

you looked up, instantly meeting his eyes, with a overdramatic heavy sigh. 

“matthew,” you say, sighing.

he held up his hands, “look, hear me out.”

“absolutely not.”

“you know, i followed you on instagram the other night,” he said casually, stretching back in his chair, his arms going over his head which caused his hoodie to rise up slightly, just enough to show the waistband of his boxers, you had noticed but refused to let it distract you. “and you didn’t follow me back,” 

you shrugged, eyes focusing back down at your notes. “i know.” 

he smiled, like he had almost expected your response, almost like he liked that you kept shutting him down. 

you didn’t say another word. 

but, then there was the third time. 

it was after a football game, the stands full of excitement. you’d sat in the bleachers, only attending because all your friends were going, you’d been watching the game from a distance, not really focusing nor caring about the score. 

you were getting ready to leave, walking through the campus car park to your car when you heard footsteps approaching. you turned, expecting to see one of your friends, but instead you were met with matt. he still had jersey on, his face flushed like he had ran to catch up with you. 

you felt your heart starting to race, but you kept calm, like his sudden appearance wasn’t affecting you, at all. 

“didn’t think football was your thing, pretty girl,” he said, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “maybe you were my lucky charm in the crowd tonight.” 

“it’s not my thing,” you reply, unintentionally glancing him up and down in his football gear before looking back up at his face, where is already staring at you. “my friends dragged me here.”

he nods, like he expected that response from you. “so,” he says stepping closer, “about that tutoring session.” 

“i told you—“ 

“i’m asking for one chance, just startin' with an hour,” he cuts you off, holding up a finger, “i’ll take it seriously, promise.” 

you open your car door, but glance back at him. “i’ll think about it.”

then you were gone.

matt stood there for just a second, watching you drive away, before heading back to the locker room to celebrate the win with the rest of the team. plans for the after party were already in full swing when his phone buzzed.

an instagram dm. from you.

꒰ 🏷️ tags ꒱ @ribbonlovergirl | @oopsiedaisydeer | @mattsburningred | @leaningoutthewindow | @backwardshatnick | @maekieuwu | @ellssturn | @candysturn | @ed1tssturnn | @y3sterdaysproblem

[golddustwomanwins]

Hey there! I had this thought in my head when I saw the picture (provided below), it really made me think of you for some reason (especially since you are writing say yes to heaven!)

So... it's about Very Conservative Seminarian!Art (training to become a priest) & Liberal Novice!Reader (training to become nun/sister)

... and get this - they actually study at the same Catholic university campus. So even though the Seminarian!Art & Novice!Reader have their own programs, housing, and schedules since they're preparing for their own paths, they're still able to see each other since they're located in the same place. (You can make them like they're childhood friends, and their families are very, very religious (like religious to the point they have pastors, priests, nuns, etc in their families), and they got sent to the university at the same time because her family kinda religiously guilt-tripped her to go. She eagerly told her family she'd go when she found Art was going to the Catholic university, and maybe, she still have a crush on Art.) Well was thinking this as a freaky fic too btw. 😔

IDK IF U WILL FW THIS but... maybe consider 👉👈

Eden

First of all, I wouldn't know what to do without your ideas, they're always top tier. Second of all, I don't know if I like how this turned out but it took me so long that I'm just going to post it. Third--and last--I know nothing about christianity and if I say nothing I mean nothing. Which means some things could be inaccurate, I'm trying my best here.

Ps: I do see everyone’s asks and I will write for all of you it just takes me ages to get to it

Seminarian Art Donaldson x Novice Reader

18 +

Dry magnolia leaves crunched under your soles as you rushed through the courtyard. It was a windy day today, a breeze rustling your long skirt, your hands darting up to keep your coif from bustling off. Your notes were clutched to your chest as you refrained from cursing.

The courtyard was empty, every trainee already in their respective classes. You’d told your mother you had to go multiple times but once she got you on the phone she wouldn’t stop until she squeezed every single piece of information out of you. Usually you enjoyed spending some time talking to her, especially since she went to this same university back in her days.

It was rewarding to hear her talk about the same stony halls she had wandered when she was your age, the classes she took and Sister Marianne, who still ruled with the same iron fist she did back in the nineties.

But today you were already late as you had to help your roommate with some of her tasks and really it was your fault. Blaming your mother was only avoiding taking responsibility.

You rushed along the cobble stones, past the arched pathway and over the little stone bridge, the wind picking up as if to spite you. You stumbled slightly over the hem of your skirt, a relieved sigh escaping your lips as the entrance to the west wing came into view.

You accelerated your steps, frowning slightly when you saw the oak, wooden door was slightly ajar. Usually the novices were careful to keep it closed. Once a raccoon made its way inside the walls of St. Harriet and it had to take Sister Marianne as well as Father Christopher, the lead professor of the joined university for young seminarians, to get the whole family of raccoons outdoors again.

You wondered if you came across the wrong door but no, the same ivy clad walls, golden door handle that you had to jiggle a few times until it gave away and finally let you in.

Read cheeked and out of breath you stepped through the threshold, soft heels clicking slightly.

“Ahh—fuckk,” you flinched as you started to round the corner of the hall, thinking someone needed help. Your rushed steps came to a harsh stop as you barely rounded the corner and came upon two lone figures.

At first you didn’t realize what was happening. A girl on her knees, skirt pillowing her skin from the cold ground, her head bobbing back and forth. A boy was standing in front of her, familiar golden curls falling into his pale face as he leaned his head back against the stone column.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed another moan, eyes closed in ecstasy. His hand found its way into the hair of the novice, guiding her head along and just then you realize what her plump lips had wrapped around, soft gagging sounds dropping from her mouth. Drool was pooling along her lips, spreading down onto his cock and past her chin, drip, drip, dripping onto her neckerchief.

Wetness pooled between your thighs but you were to surprised to notice as you stumbled a step back, gasping. Two heads flew around, but you only could look at one pair of eyes as they burning you straight through your soul.

“Christ,” Art went to tuck himself away, already half across the hall to you but you were faster. You rushed back the way you came, face burning with shame.

You stumbled forward, the wind now at full force as it blew against you, Art rushing onto the courtyard behind you.

“Wait a second!” At the sound of his steps you only ran faster not daring to look behind you as you rushed along. Your heart was beating rapidly, only wanting to get back to the dorms and thankfully they came into view pretty quickly.

Art cursed behind you. “Would you wait a second, damnit.”

You flinched at his words, risking a glance behind you. Art was in his civil clothes, belt still unbuckled, cheeks reddened from the wind or his former activities. Your eyes widened when you realized how close he was and you pushed yourself to go faster. Your heel caught in a raised cobblestone, making you stumble forward.

If it weren’t for Art hastily grabbing your wrist, you would’ve busted open your chin. Before you could protest Art pulled you into the church hall, a few students meddling about, some whispering soft prayers.

“Art—“ you tried to protest but he tugged you along, nudging the curtains of the confessional away before sneaking you inside. He closed the curtains and bathed you both into darkness.

You stumbled into his chest, inhaling sharply as the confessional filled with the scent of him. You blinked, surprised for a moment. You could barely make out Art’s face, only seeing the red splotches on his cheeks, glistening slightly with tears.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I know it was wrong, I’ve been trying to stop I swear.”

“Trying to stop?” You gasped. “You mean it happened more than once?”

Art’s hands came up to grip your shoulders. “You cannot tell anyone about this.”

“Who am I supposed to tell? Your father? And you’re seriously worried about me snitching?” You huffed. “Art, I just watched a girl suck your dick.”

Art flinched and shook his head, choking out a sob. “Don’t—don’t say it like that.”

“How else do you want me to say it?”

“I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. Never. I know I deserve punishment, I know I’m the worst. Just don’t—“

“Don’t what?” You frowned. “Why are you apologizing to me?”

To be fair it did hurt you seeing Art with another girl. You always thought you knew him inside out. You did know him your whole life.

He was the sole reason you had applied to St. Harriets. Well, partially as well because of your mother and father, wanting you to study what almost everyone in your family had studied. You weren't exactly excited to become a novice but with the sight of Art being at the same university, studying to become a priest you had jumped on the wagon all to quickly.

Priest Donaldson, Art's father, had lived right next door and your family were friends with him. You had spent all of your childhood hiding in the confessionals with Art, giggling and drawing with crayons, begging for ice cream after mass and hanging out in your rooms listening to music while in your teenage years. Art was your best friend.

He understood what it meant to live in a family were religion was the center of the universe. While your family was devoted, a few nuns and priests spread here a there Art's family was the real deal. Not one of his father's family was not a priest or pastor, not one woman was not either a Sister or a devoted housewife, visiting church Monday through Sunday.

Sometimes the both of you would lay in Art's backyard, smushing daisies beneath your backs as you stared into the cloud filled sky.

"Do you sometimes imagine how we would turn out if our families weren't as strict?" Art had asked you that day. It was his sixteenth birthday and he was slowly growing into his teenage features, jaw squaring, shoulders broadening. You didn't know when it happened but there was this new glimmer in his eyes the past weeks when he looked at you. His smile was deeper but more quiet. Instead of showing full teeth he'd only tip one corner of his mouth up and it would make your stomach flip strangely.

He was watching you intently, waiting for your answer. You huffed, cheeks staining red as you looked back up at the clouds.

"I try not to."

"Why not?" Art turned on his side to watch you. You shivered slightly at the attention and swallowed.

"Because it doesn't matter," you turned to look at him. "We grew up in this family and we'll die in it. Our path is destined." He snorted then. "You don't think we could change our path? Decide for ourselves?" You frowned slightly. "Would you want to?”

"Would you want to?" His eyes dipped lower down your face, not answering your question. You knew you wanted to. If your parents weren't as strict you'd be leaving for the next best college studying, literature or art. Something liberating and free. But your parents were your parents and...leaving them also meant leaving Art.

So you shook your head, watched the light dim in Art's eyes. "No," you said. "I want this life." Looking back now you wondered if Art hat questioned his faith back then already. You had only answered that way because you thought it was what he wanted to hear. Art never missed mass, never cursed, never drank or fraternized. He'd never even had a girlfriend, even though most of the girls in town did sent him flirty smiles, hands resting on his biceps for way too long.

You thought if you'd mold yourself into the perfect girl, into a girl Art could fall for, you'd spent the rest of your life with him. How wrong you were. Back in the confessional you looked at Art, the golden crucifix dangling from his neck like a bad omen.

“How often did it happen?” You asked and were caught off guard when Art suddenly sunk to his knees. He gripped your hips desperately, pressing his forehead against your tummy.

“Art, get up.”

He shook his head. “No. No I deserve penance I will do better, I swear.”

“Art,” you tried to pry him off you but he has an iron grip on you.

“I am not mad,” you huffed. “You don’t need to confess to me.”

“But I have to,” Art protested and looked up at you. A ray of sun creeped through the wooden screen and revealed to you the little speck of brown in his blue eyes.

“Let me repent,” he whispered. Your breath hitched when his hands wandered to the hem of your dress.

“Art,” you tried to stop him but he brushed your hands way.

“You’re the only one who can take my sin,” Art said as he slowly lifted the hem of your dress. You helped him holding the various skirts up as he guided you onto the wooden bank.

“You’re the only one powerful enough to ease the pain,” you didn’t know if he was still crying but you couldn’t care less when he pressed a tender kiss to your left knee.

He followed up with the right, before running his teeth over your knee stockings. “Fuck,” he sighed. “I always wondered what you were wearing beneath your skirts.”

You shivered at his words tugging him upwards by his curls. Art looked at you pleadingly, devotion shining in his eyes. “If you want to repent you better get to it before someone really needs the confessionals.”

He nodded eagerly before his hands gripped your plain panties and pulled them to your knees. Without further hesitation he put his hot mouth on your cunt, tongue darting out to taste you.

You both moaned in sync and you quickly slapped your hand onto your mouth to refrain from anyone hearing you. Arts grip was bruising as he guided your hips along, dragging your clit against his straight nose and making you shiver.

“Oh fuck,” you whispered, clutching at his hair desperately as you started to rock your hips. You didn’t know how Art knew but when he pushed two fingers inside your wet cunt, stars burst in front of your eyes.

Was this what he was doing all the time? You always thought he was an uptight, rigorous follower of his father’s rules. How could ever know that he’d be this…perfect?

The wooden bench creaked beneath you as Art moved you along, moaning against your core.

“Taste like Heaven,” he mumbled as he sucked at your clit, wet sounds sounding as his fingers fucked you quickly. “I’ve thought about this my whole life.”

“Art,” you whimpered. Your hips started to hump quicker, Art barely needed to move as you used him to your liking.

When he felt your walls growing tighter and tighter he started to curl his fingers.

“Oh—-oh yes, fuck,” the creaking of the bench grew more insistent, wet sloppy sounds echoing and Arts soft whimpers urging you on.

“You gotta cum for me, baby,” Art. “Please let me make you feel good. It’s the only way I’ll earn forgiveness.”

Without needing to hold back, you burst on his fingers and tongue, head thrown back and thumping against the wooden walls. Art continued fucking you with his fingers until your body was all twitchy and sweat slick.

Art kissed your cunt gently before pulling your underwear back in place and crawling up your body.

His chin and nose was glistening with your cum, pupils blown wide. His hands came up to your cheeks and he leaned in to kiss you softly. This kiss was slow and lazy, all tongue and spit.

You sighed softly, heart strings thrumming at the taste of him.

Your hands wandered over the hard plains of his chest before dipping into his slacks but he caught your wrists quickly.

You looked at him surprised, seeing his cheeks flush.

“I already…” he grimaced, embarrassed and you chuckled pulling him in to peck his lips.

“‘S all right I’ll help you next time,” you promised and Art looked at you like you hung the moon for him.

Your fingers intertwined and you smiled happily at him.

“You forgive me then?” He was looking at you with wide eyes and you quickly realized that he had been serious. He needed your forgiveness to move on and you were selfish enough to use his guilt for your own gain.

Gripping his chin between your fingers your tilted Art’s face the way you liked, just because you could.

“Show me what else you can do and I’ll consider it.”

[grapecoffy]

P.S. This is a post of the expression of my accumulated indignant thoughts about Marie Batel. Don't take it personally. Comments with your opinion and vision of the character are welcome!

P.P.S. I was told in the comments that I'm making up reasons for angry. I can't agree with that, but maybe it's partly because how Marie was presented in localization into my native language. Anyway, I'm open to dialogue!

It turns out that my profile here is already four years old. Wow.

And I burst here with a strong indignation, to put it mildly. And today we will talk about Star Trek. More precisely, about "Star Trek: Strange New Worlds". And about one phenomenon that I really want, and this is also, to put it mildly.

We all remember how the second season ended - everything is in chaos, all around ruin, shooting, panic. "To be continued." The season finale came out very tense and breaks off, continuing it in the first episode of the future third season.

But most of all we were interested in the question "what about Marie Batel"? That's what I want to talk about.

I don't understand her at all. And I don't understand the scriptwriters who followed the most idiotic path and left her alive. Why? For what? Why?

She's damn infected with GORNS, her chances of survival are very small. In fact, I can't stand this character, she makes me angry, I don't understand her at all. She is an absolutely toxic character full of red flags, and if the scriptwriters followed the path of least resistance and left her alive, I'm disappointed.

Because it would be much more logical to let her die tragically.

Okay, I can accept the fact that she's alive, okay, okay. But only if she and Chris break up. But it doesn't look like it will happen. And I don't know what makes me sad more about it.

She didn't show herself to be a good character. She is very unpleasant from the very beginning, she has a disgusting character. Starting from the moment when in the very first episode she refused to eat the food cooked by Chris, snapping at him that "she's late for the service", and he somehow persuades her, ending with the fact that Chris is always to blame for everything.

I understand Chris, I understand why he's holding on to her, but I don't understand Marie at all.

Fuck, she's constantly aggressive at him. More precisely, he is constantly accused of accusations. She doesn't care what he thinks, what he feels, what he wants. And it was shown many times. After all, Chris even sings about it to her right in the forehead! He has LITERALLY the line "Oh, sure, I see, lay all the blame on me" in his song. HE THROWS IT IN HER FOREW.

In the episode "Subspacel Rhapsody", she accused Chris of lying, accused him of canceled vacation, although neither was there, and also ignored his emphasis on the word "crowded" when they discussed where to spend their vacation.

In the episode "Hegemony", Chris was forced to pull out information from her with pliers, why Gorn didn't attack her and that she turns out to be fucking infected with them. Fuck your mother...

And moreover, in the same episode she puts him in front of the fact, just throws him an ultimatum that she will sacrifice herself. It's not discussed for her. And obviously she wasn't going to tell him anything. Nothing to explain. And she resisted to let him try to help. Yes, she said about the infection by rolling her eyes, reluctantly and abruptly rolling up her sleeve. It's amazing that Chris persuaded him to give him the opportunity to help.

But most of all, it is in this episode that I am puzzled by how she tells Christine Chapel RIGHT IN HIS SORE that the nurse should kill her if she realises that it is useless and too late to save her.

And anyway, where is the damn gratitude for the fact that Chris went down LITERALLY TO HELL in order to save your ass?! Why the fuck are you sending him to fuck, sending him back and unceremoniously asking "what did you forget here? Why did you come?" FUCK.

Another good indicator was in the series "Among the Lotus Eaters". She doesn't just behave badly, she says enough.. an unambiguous phrase for Chris's apology. She has the audacity to kiss him and say "it will be up to you in this half hour". OBVIOUSLY hinting that she will forgive him only if he pleases her in bed. IT'S FUCKING DISGUSTING. She wasn't going to forgive him from the beginning, even with his apologies!

Usually it's a playful phrase, but it's not her case.

WELL, NO ONE DON'T BEHAVE LIKE THAT WITH A PARTNER THEY LOVE, HELLO!!!

In the case of a partner you love, you will NEVER say that you are killed!!!

No matter how much you look at it, I only see a toxic character. A character who doesn't care about his partner's feelings, his thoughts, his desires, just himself. Chris is a wonderful man and she uses it. He uses it. She suppresses him, gets on his nerves, constantly making him guilty of everything, puts him in front of the fact without letting him object, does not care about him at all. She wants everything to be only as she says, that Chris behaves the way she wants. Only she is important, only her opinion and desires are important. The rest is not welcome.

I only see that this relationship brings Chris only pain and disappointment. And it hurts me. It hurts me that the scriptwriters decided to leave her alive and, moreover, keep her relationship with Chris, when he deserves much better and someone completely different. She's not a couple for Chris, at all. And I feel very bad about all this.

I just couldn't keep silent anymore, I didn't have the strength to do it anymore, the trailer of the third season finished me off. It makes me very sad. After all, it would be much more weighty and logical to leave her to the true tragic death or to break up relations between them. Because Marie doesn't need Chris at all. She doesn't deserve it. Just like Chris doesn't deserve such a shitty attitude towards him.

I'll continue watching the series, I really like the Star Trek universe. But I don't know how I'll put up with Marie Batel in the frame.

P.S. Sorry for my English, it's not my native language 👉👈

[fourthwingfan]

Madness - Chapter 13

Hi, everybody. I hope you all had a pleasent Easter! Now, we continue our story. Threshing is just starting. It's a really short chapter, I'm sorry, guys. :( But I plan to post the next one on Saturday.

There is nothing quite as humbling, or as awe-inspiring, as witnessing Threshing…for those who live through it anyway.

—Colonel Kaori’s Field Guide to Dragonkind

October first is always Threshing.

Monday, Wednesday, or Sunday, it doesn’t matter where it falls on any given year. On the first of October, the first-year cadets of the Riders Quadrant enter the bowl-shaped forested valley to the southwest of the citadel and pray they come out alive.

I will not die today.

I didn’t bother eating this morning, and I pity Ethan, who’s currently heaving up the contents of his stomach against a tree to my right.

A sword is strapped to my back, the hilt jostling against my spine as I bounce, stretching my arms across my chest one at a time.

“Remember to listen here,” Professor Kaori says from in front of the 147 of us here, tapping his chest. “If a dragon has already selected you, they’ll be calling.” He thumps his chest again. “So pay attention to not just your surroundings but your feelings, and go with them.” He grimaces. “And if your feelings are telling you to go in the other direction…listen to that, too.”

“Which one are you going for?” Liam asks quietly.

“I don’t know.” I shake my head. At this point, Mira knew she wanted to seek out Teine.

“You memorized the cards, right?” He asks, lifting his brows. “So you know what’s out there?”

“Yes. I just don’t feel connected to any of them.” I shrug. “And what about you? Do you have this ‘feeling’?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” He says. “I thought I felt something.”

“Which one was it?” I smile at him. He totally deserves to be chosen.

“One of the reds.” He grins. “I felt strange when you dated with the greens.”

“Hey! It wasn’t a date. I really thought that I’m done for good.” I narrow my eyes at him.

“Yeah, I shouldn’t have called it a date. I don’t want to upset a certain wingleader.” He winks.

“Liam!” I hiss and elbow him in the ribs.

And he just laughs. God, he’s annoying. A little. But I like him.

We’ve only seen professors this morning, but I know the second- and third-year riders are scattered throughout this valley in order to observe.

„If you go in groups, you’re more likely to be incinerated than bonded,” Professor Kaori argues with someone near the center of the valley. “The scribes have run the statistics. You’re better off on your own.”

“And what if we aren’t chosen by dinner?” a man with a short beard to my left asks.

Looking past him, I catch Jack Barlowe running a finger across his neck at Violet. So original. Then Oren, Rio and Tynan flank his sides.

So much for squad loyalty. It’s everyone for themselves today.

I better watch them. They’re a nasty group.

“If you’re not chosen by nightfall, there’s a problem,” Professor Kaori responds, his thick mustache turned down at the ends. “You’ll be brought out by a professor or senior leadership, so don’t give up and think we’ve forgotten about you.” He checks his pocket watch. “Remember to spread out and use every foot of this valley to your advantage. It’s nine, which means they should be flying in any minute now. The only other words I have for you are ‘good luck.’” He nods, sweeping his gaze over the crowd of us with such intensity that I know he’ll be able to re-create this moment in a projection.

Then he leaves, marching up the hill to our right and disappearing into the trees.

My mind whirls. It’s time. I’ll either leave this forest as a rider…or likely never leave.

“Be careful.” Liam pulls me into a hug and he tightens his arms around me.

“You too.” I squeeze him back and am immediately swept into another pair of arms.

“Don’t die!” Ethan orders.

That’s our only goal as what’s left of our squad separates, each heading in our own direction like we’ve been flung apart by centrifugal motion, at the mercy of a spinning wheel.

***

Guessing by the position of the sun, it’s been at least a couple of hours since the dragons flew overhead, landing in the valley in a succession that sounded like thunder and making the earth shake.

I’ve come across two greens, a brown, four oranges, and—

My heart stumbles and my feet freeze to the forest floor as a red steps into my field of vision, its head just under the canopy of enormous trees.

This is not my dragon. I’m not sure how I know, but I do.

I hold my breath, trying not to make a sound as its head sweeps right, then left, and my gaze plummets to the ground as I bow my head.

For the last hour or so, I’ve seen dragons launch into the air with a cadet—now a rider—on their back, but I’ve also seen more than a couple of plumes of smoke, and I have no desire to be one of those.

The dragon huffs a breath, then continues along its path, its daggertail flicking upward and catching one of the lower-hanging branches. The limb falls to the ground with a monstrous crash, and only after the footsteps recede do I finally raise my head.

I’ve now come across every color of dragon, and none of them has spoken to me or given me the sense of connection we’re reportedly supposed to feel.

My stomach sinks. What if I’m one of the cadets who’s destined to never become a rider? One who’s thrown back time and again to restart first year until eventually something puts me on the death roll? Has this all been for nothing?

I don’t want to die. I don’t want to be useless. I don’t want to be seperated from my friends.

I feel happy with them. For the first time in my life I feel important. And I don’t want to lose them. Liam. Violet. Ethan. Not even Xaden, despite our strange relationship.

The thought is too heavy to carry.

Maybe if I could just see the valley, then I’d get a feeling like Professor Kaori was talking about.

I spot the nearest climbable tree and get to work, scaling branch after branch. Pretty sure the higher branches aren’t going to support my weight, so I stop about three-quarters to the top and survey the immediate area.

There are a few greens in plain sight to my left, standing out against the fall foliage. Oddly enough, this is the one time of year when oranges, browns, and reds have the highest chance of blending in. I watch the trees for movement and spot a couple more directly south, but there’s no pull, no aching need to head in that direction, which probably means those aren’t mine, either.

Relief hits me embarrassingly hard when I count at least half a dozen first-years wandering aimlessly. I shouldn’t be so happy that they haven’t found their dragons, either, but at least I’m not the only one, which gives me hope.

There’s a clearing to the north, and my eyes narrow as a flash, like a mirror, catches the sun.

Or like a golden dragon.

Guess the little feathertail is still out here appeasing its curiosity.

There’s another movement. There’s a woman with wihitis hair. Violet.

Then I spot three man entering the clearing.

Shit. They must be Jack and his group.

I climb down and keep my footsteps silent and race across the forest floor as fast as I can.

I am thankful I grew up playing hide-and-seek with Violet in the woods. This is one area of expertise I can confidently claim.

The clearing is closer than I realized, so I kick up my speed, my gaze darting between the leaf-covered path I’ve chosen and where I think they are.

The meadow is big enough for ten dragons, ringed by several large trees, but the golden one stands alone in the center, in front of the dragon is Violet.

I was right. The group I saw was Jack’s. They surrounded Violet.

Four man against Violet, and a dragon. Probably a baby if based on it’s size.

I feel my anger rising. I will kill them.

I unsheathe my sword but before I can say anything or take a step, I hear a low threatening voice.

„I would strongly recommend you rethink your actions,” a voice—his voice—demands from across the field.

My scalp prickles as each of our heads swivel in his direction.

Xaden is leaning against the tree, his arms folded across his chest, and behind him, watching with narrowed golden eyes, her fangs exposed, is Sgaeyl, his terrifyingly beautiful navy-blue daggertail.

[stevenbasic]

Growing into the Job, Post 408: Babysitting, p3

“So, how exactly are you going to pay for all of this?” Randi asked me, her eyes rising up from her laptop from where she sat on the couch, several cushions away, “You’re broke from the divorce, aren’t you?”

“She, um, gave me debit card,” I answered, not taking my eyes off my own screen - the big tv in Melissa’s mom’s great room. I’d figured out a way, with Randi’s help (and permission) to use the television to surf the web. I hadn’t been online in a while and at first Randi was reticent about letting me use it. I explained, though, that I just needed to do some shopping.,After some arguing, and, well pleading, she finally relented and said I could, as long as she could supervise. So, sitting here on a quiet Thursday afternoon after having endured not just one but, I think, three blow jobs while watching the first part of Melissa’s interview for Channel 5, I put another set of shoes into my Amazon cart. Yes, I was dependent on a woman’s money and being policed in my internet habits by a 20-something year-old.  At this point, though, I was nearly beyond the embarrassment and humiliation of the situation. Nearly. “She said I could use it for whatever I want.”

When I said ‘she’, there was no question of who I was talking about, and Randi’s eyes lit up with a smirk.

“Melissa’s got you sucking from her bank account already, huh?” Randi quipped, the bank account/teat analogy not lost on me but not rankling me quite as much as it should have. Quite. “How much did she give you?” 

“ I- she gave me two thousand dollars,” I answered. Maybe I was relaxed from the half-hour or so I’d spent in Randi’s mouth and the quick nap I’d taken after, but admitting my financial dependence on my girlfriend didn’t bother me much. Much. I’d kept an eye on my online cart; I still had a good cushion in my budget and moved on to looking for shirts…in the “Youth” section. “I’ll be careful not to run out.”

“Well, if you use it up I’m sure she’ll let down some more money for her needy little man,” Randi finished, “Melissa’s got very big…accounts.” Her smoky voice was still deliciously throaty from the blowjobs. 

Again, haha, with the boob analogy and a - fuck me - stirring in my sweatpants.

“Yeah,” I answered, this time finally feeling myself flush. Randi certainly had a way about her, a way to find my buttons, and she obviously loved to push them. I always thought of her as pushy, a little critical, and with a somewhat rough, randy (hey-oo) sense of humor. She had a penchant for deliberately pressuring me, and sometimes seducing me, way beyond my comfort zone. Today, in fact, was our third private tryst, and it was an unspoken fact that it came with her best friend’s nodding approval. I understood Randi’s seductions as mostly practical. They were calculated, mercenary, career-advancing moves designed to trap me in a corner and use my own weaknesses against me. She knew I didn’t have the strength of will to say no, and her advancements almost seemed like an amusement to her, practically a prank. On some level, though, both Randi and I knew there were heavier machinations at work. She’d never admit it but my cock down her throat filled some deeper instinct, some sort of connection that flowed through me, her, and all the girls.

Yeah, so Randi was maybe becoming more than just a brash prankster who liked making men horny and stupid, getting her kicks from pushing them to risky and humiliating sexual acts. Something important was quietly happening, surfacing in her - like it was in lots of the girls at the office. Randi was no doubt an acerbic, short-tempered young woman but she was smart, and given the context of her being overwhelmed with all of the new demands on her life I got the sense she knew she was moving upwards towards some greater role than just Social Media Director at a geriatrics practice in the Midwest. 

With Randi pestering me, I’d unconsciously found myself stroking the debit card Melissa had given me. I never told anyone, but  I nearly always kept it in my pocket. Weirdly, having it around made me feel safe. Now that I had it out next to me, I couldn’t help but hold it close. 

“Maybe I’ll buy something nice for her,” I muttered, not even realizing what I’d said out loud as I navigated my way toward the ‘Women’s Clothing’ section. Amazon had certainly started using curvier, more athletic models these days. Maybe they felt the need to start living up to their name haha. 

“Oh, you want to get Melissa something? I know she was talking about a dog collar,” Randi offered. 

“Really? Why?” I asked, “Is she thinking about getting a new pet?”

Speaking of, Melissa’s moms cat - ‘Tiger’, I think - sauntered across the room, between the television and where I sat. Had it been around here the whole time?

“Hey, cat, what’s up? Need your litterbox changed?” Randi teased. 

The thing paused, fixed Randi with a death stare, and moved on. 

Randi chuckled, and turned her attention back to me. “Anyway, no more tv,” said, putting her laptop aside, “you and I got some chores to do.”

Oh yeah, that. Laundry. 

Five minutes later, at Randi’s command, I found myself back upstairs gathering up not only my own dirty clothes from the bedroom but Melissa’s as well. Panties, bras, socks and athletic gear were all strewn haphazardly about the room. Most of the time I was a bit too distracted to notice, but she really was a mess and a half sometimes. Finally, with a bit of work, all the clothes found their way into the already half-full laundry basket sitting in the corner. Apparently not satisfied with the bra from which I’d still needed to breathe, I took the chance to surreptitiously sniff Melissa’s dirty clothes. Good god, the smell of her was like a drug. I just couldn’t get enough. This must be love, right? I was alone, and suddenly horny again and was considering rubbing one out right th-

“Hey, dude..!” came Randi’s voice, calling up to me from the bottom of the stairs, “What’s taking so long? Are you rubbing one out?”

Sigh. 

I was still strong enough to carry the now-overflowing basket down the steps and to the laundry room, where Randi supervised me separating out the delicates (mostly Melissa’s lingerie) from everything else. We’d started the load of regulars, some towels and a robe were already in the dryer, and Randi had - Whoah! - picked me up under the armpits to boost me to sit on the washer while she went through what looked like another pile of bras that had been set atop the dryer alongside me. 

My feet dangled off the edge as I watched Randi pick through them, looking at tags, setting some aside to go through the next load. 

I recognized a few of these bras. Old ones of Melissa’s, from months back.

“Uhh…” Anything to do with Melissa’s bras did seem to enthrall me. 

“These are ones she’s outgrown, she told me I could have them,” Randi explained, holding up a white underwire whose band and tag I recognized from an old Insta post of Melissa’s. 

“R-really?” I managed. 

Sidelong, Randi glanced at me and her smile curled into something a bit more predatory when she heard the crack in my voice. “Yeah. I’m basically as big as she was when you hired her.”

Randi’s tone suggested she knew exactly how captivated I was.  “Well, I’m taller now than she was then, so 34GG’s don’t look as ginormous on me as they did on her,”  she dryly explained, “But don’t worry I’m a growing girl.”

Though I’d been confronted with this before, the sheer absurdity of the fact that yes all the women around me seemed to be getting taller, stronger and bustier still boggled me. “h-how does this happen??” I asked with obvious futile impotence, sitting on the washer and eye-to-eye with Randi, who must be over six feet tall at this point. 

“Dude, haven’t you figured it out yet? The Melissssy Effect?” she snipped, white lace brassiere still in her hands, “Spend too much time around her and you start becoming what she needs you to be.”

Yes, right…wait, what?! I knew it, I felt it, this influence my new Office Manager was having over our staff… and over me <shiver>. I think I’d secretly known it all along. I could ‘feel’ it, but it was just too ludicrous to get my head around. “H-how..??”

“Plain and simple,” Randi answered sharply, “She’s magic.”

My brow furrowed. “T-there’s no s-such thing as magic,” I muttered, hearing for myself the uncertainty in my voice. 

To my reply, Randi cocked a dark, sculpted eyebrow. “I dunno. I wouldn’t be so sure.”

My throat caught, blood rushed behind my eyes. “C’mon…she’s not ‘magic’,” I insisted, again with the hesitation of a man whose worldview had been crumbling around him already. “Magic’s impossib-”

“Okay then she’s ‘science’,” Randi retorted, “You believe in science don’t you?”

“Yes but…” The science was even more unbelievable. 

“Or, maybe she’s ‘religion’. Or - I dunno -  maybe she’s all three,” Randi concluded a bit uncertain herself. Her tone seemed to signal that there were things about what was happening that she didn’t fully understand herself. “I honestly don’t fucking know.” Irritated, she obviously wanted to move onto something else. 

The washing machine vibrated underneath me, the dryer rumbling alongside. 

She held the big white bra in her hands, making a bit of a show of it. She wanted me to look up as she inspected its full satin cups. Despite knowing what she was doing, I couldn’t help but grow silent, my mind captivated by the sight. 

“Anyway, since we’re on the subject,” she began again, “now that I’m as big as she was when you hired her - and we all know you hired her for her tits - I want to make as much as she did.”

Wait. 

“Wh-what?” Now we’re talking salaries?

“I want a raise. A big one.”

“Y-y-you want to make as much as Melissa? Our Office Manager??” The shock of it pulled my attention out of Melissa’s bra cup and back to Randi’s crooked smile. 

“Well, not as much as she makes now of course…” Randi offered. 

Makes…now? Melissa’s pay should be the same as- 

“She gave herself a raise, didn’t you know?” 

My expression must have been one of shocked incredulousness, and I felt myself gaping, confused. 

Randi chuckled at my consternation, and her hand drifted down to find my erection alive and well in my sweatpants, clear for her to see. After a brief second of shock, my body tensing at her touch, I realized just how obviously turned on I was from this predicament I found myself in. With well-practiced proficiency, she slid her hand down the waistband of my pants, and pulled my hard shaft out into the open air. Fuck it was huge, startlingly so on my skinny, 4’7” frame. She smiled as she gave it a squeeze. 

I groaned, my eyes fluttered, but - passively - I didn’t complain. Suddenly I was distracted from the surprise of Melissa’s raise and the insult to my already-crumbling authority, and all my attention was centered right where Randi wanted it. On her.  

“Face it, buddy,” Randi said, as she took my cock and wrapped it into one of the white satin bra cups of Melissa’s bra, causing me to shudder and moan anew. My vision swam and already my loins sparked and clenched. “We’re all getting richer. We’re all getting more beautiful, taller, stronger.” She began to stroke the bra over my throbbing, nearly ten-inch shaft. Her voice was smoky and low. “All of us are getting bigger, all of us -  except you.”

“Oh godddddd….” I groaned, and - Jesus, that was f-fast - came into Melissa’s bra.. 

As the orgasm wracked me, I fell forward from where I sat. my face planted itself into Randi’s - my savior and tormenter’s - waiting bosom. “Shhh…deep breath,” I heard her chuckle, waiting until I inhaled before speaking again. She felt me melting. “I smell like her don’t I?” 

Nnngh…nnngh…nnngh….Melissa. Yes, she did. A sharper edge to it, perhaps, but Randi’s scent was all but exactly Melissa’s. 

“We’re all starting to get to be more like her,” Randi drawled as she milked me through my climax, into the satiny cup of her friend’s enormous bra, “and not just the tits.”

Nnngh, nnngh, nnngh. Into the bra I came, until my pulses waned. 

Still gripping my spent manhood and the bra with one hand, Randi pulled me back from her chest with the other. She took one of my hands into hers, and opened it up so we were palm-to-palm. We both marveled at the lopsided size comparison, how my fingers went just past the first joint of hers. She chuckled, and turned her narrowed eyes back onto me as she brought my hand up to her lips. Gently, she started kissing my fingers, looking into my eyes with a suddenly tender intimacy that was unusual for Randi.

“Being with me is kinda like being with her, hm?” she said, both of us aware of this weird energy - and Melissa’s unseen presence - in the room, “You can think about her when you’re with me. She’s your girlfriend, I don’t mind.”

Randi kissed my fingertip, sucked gently on my index finger to the first knuckle. She was still rubbing me, massaging me through the squishy bra, and she saw my eyes fluttering again. “C’mon I know you can do it,” she whispered. 

Astonishing even myself, I began to swell again. 

“Oooo there you go,” Randi chuckled, as her hand - assisted by the cup of the bra and now the lubrication of my last release - began to squeeze and stroke me anew. “Women really have so much power over you, don’t they?” she posited, feeling me hardening, “such amazing things we can do, Melissa, all us girls.”

“M-Melissa..?” I groaned. 

“Shhh remember, I’m getting to be just like her. And she’s not jealous. Being with me is like being with her, she’s told you herself,” she purred, sucking my index finger into her mouth and then out again, like she was sucking a dick, “But…there are still some special things of my own I can do. My own particular talents…”

I groaned. Was she actually going to do this to me again?

“Let me show you why they call me ‘The Mouth’.

At that she started feeding my fingers - two three four…five - in between her lips, and then slid them into her mouth. Her lips closed over them, and I felt the muscle of her tongue moving slowly underneath my fingers.

I shuddered in pleasure and she chuckled as I watched, eyes searching mine as I began to realize what she was about to do. 

She moved on to take in my entire hand. 

My eyes went wide. She had my whole right hand in her mouth, to the wrist.  She still grasped my forearm which, by god, was not much longer or thicker than my cock, between her fingers. Her glossy lips were closed in a tight seal around my scrawny wrist, and - drawing in her cheeks - she sucked on my hand powerfully. Her tongue continued its unseen gymnastics around my palm and fingers like an eel. I felt the sharp edges of her teeth bite delicately into my wrist, while all the while her eyes remained locked on mine, staring into my shuddering depths.

She hummed pleasantly, the vibrations of her vocal cords shivering all the way up my arm. I was beginning to groan again, in new pleasure. What was this girl capable of??

With another tug of suction, she began to show me. 

I gasped in disbelief as she took in the first few inches of my arm. My eyes stayed locked on hers as - oh my god - she didn’t stop.

She ate more of my arm, lips sliding up and up and up my thin limb as she still hummed into my bones. I felt my hand slide down into her throat and soon she had me to the elbow. 

“o-o-oh my god Randi…” I stammered, now staring down at the spectacle. She’d taken my entire forearm into her mouth, her lips closed around the joint of my elbow. I could feel my hand squeezed by the top part of her esophagus, and she swallowed several times on purpose, squeezing my hand and wrist in a muscular embrace of warm tightness….and drawing me in further. 

Deeper and deeper she fed me into her mouth, her lips inching forward slowly, gaining territory with each gentle swallow and pull. She was a snake, a she-cobra, devouring its prey and I watched her throat bulging with the thickness of my arm down inside it. The start of my withered bicep, then the middle. Randi kept going. 

My cock was throbbing hard now, fully back at erection and still being stroked by Randi now with both hands through Melissa’s bra. Though I couldn’t take my eyes off the horrid spectacle of my arm down this girl’s outrageously distended mouth, hers still bore into mine with insistence, unblinking, not wanting to miss a moment of my reaction.

Randi sucked me in again and I heard the first real gag out of her. She had my upper bicep and then - my god - her jaw widened even further and her lips closed around my shoulder, and came to a stop. Her big head, her mane of straight black hair, was right there, her eyes staring deeply into mine. My jaw hung open and quivering, she’s swallowed my entire arm. My entire arm is inside her, down her throat. 

I felt the acid of her stomach burning my hand, threatening to eat away at it.

She hummed deeply again and jostled her head, shaking my whole torso like a panther with its prey. Then she growled, suddenly baring her teeth at me, showing me two rows of teeth clamped down over my shoulder. There was absolutely no doubt that, if Randi had wanted to, she could have bitten off my entire arm. She growled once more and - nnnnnngggguuugggghhh -  I felt myself orgasm again, unngh, unngh, unngh - into the already sodden bra. How did I have anything left in me?! Her tongue lapped under my armpit, and she sucked on my arm like one giant cock, her entire alimentary canal closing tightly around it and milking it in rhythm with my climax…

=============================================

Thanks to reader GrillFan for his insightful character analysis of Randi, much of which is included here, Joyce Julep for inspiring the arm-eating scene, and once again RiF for proofreading.

[tiddiewitch]

Second Chances - Ch. 3

Description: Agathrio AU / Wagatha - Agatha ponders her inheritance, meets up with Jen to hear some news, takes the pregnancy test.

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 1,800

Notes: I finally realized I should probably put chapter descriptions. I also took like 5 minutes to figure out how to use this app properly so hopefully this posts better than the last two. Also gonna start a masterlist.

CHAPTER 3 - Four

A few weeks later, Ralph was onto his next excursion, Agatha was doing all that she could to keep busy. She had passed the traditional two week wait and was yet to take a pregnancy test. She didn’t feel any different, no morning sickness, a little tired but she also didn’t stop moving. It was still early and she didn’t want to disappoint herself unnecessarily so she focused on anything else. Between benefits and fundraisers at work and her mother badgering her about her grandfather’s inheritance she had plenty to keep her occupied. 

She’d already met with her lawyer a few times to go over the fine details but was yet to sign and return the documents. She didn’t really care about the estate, it seemed like more of a burden to manage, but it was the most she had of her childhood and her past, the few good parts that did exist. The home itself held a treasure trove of antiques he had collected over the years. She had just under a week to decide yet she wasn’t in a hurry as she knew it would likely mean more interactions with her mother. 

Today she had her first break in the chaos and had planned a day of reading and relaxation, centering herself and avoiding her growing list of responsibilities. This was not long lived as she got an early call from Jen. Several, in fact, which she tried to ignore until the third call. 

“Somebody better be dying” she grunted into the phone

“Jeeze, Agatha, hello to you too” Jen scoffed

“You keep calling so it must be urgent”

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for weeks! I figured at this point you were either dead or your mother got to you, or both. Now that I know you’re still breathing, do you want to get brunch?” Agatha glanced at the clock. She’d been awake for 4 hours and hadn’t thought to eat or drink anything. Suddenly she realized how hungry she actually was. 

“You buying?” Jen let out a sigh

“Sure, if that’ll get you there. 30 mins?”

“Give me an hour, I still have to pull myself together.”

“It’s 10 a.m., on a Wednesday. How have you not gotten ready yet?”

“I wasn’t planning on leaving my house today - that can still be the plan if you want to push it.”

“No, no, that’s fine. See you in an hour”

Agatha took her time, only showing up 15 mins later than she had told Jen, who frantically waved her over. 

“Finally! Girl, you look like death warmed over. You sure your mother didn’t suck the soul out of you?”

“No, I’ve been able to avoid her so far. I’m just exhausted. I feel like I haven’t stopped moving since I last saw you. Also I’ve had a headache on and off for like the last week.”

“Have you been drinking enough water?” Jen questioned

“Have you been drinking enough water?” Agatha mocked back. Jen glared at her. 

“YES. I’m staying hydrated.” She grabbed the glass of water next to her and chugged it. 

“See” she said with a gasp

“Cute. I bet you feel amazing now”

“Never better” she said through a burp “So what’s going on?” 

“I met someone.” Jen said as a smile grew across her face. 

“Oh boy. Hope this isn’t another Madison situation.”

“Don’t go there. She is nothing like Madison. She is wonderful, and kind, and a little broody but in a super hot way. The sex is amazing.”

“Wow, sounds like you’re really taking your time with this one.” Agatha said with an eye roll “so where and when did you meet her?”

“That night at the bar. Turns out she actually owns the place and owns a townhouse a block over. ”

“Don’t tell me you’re moving in with her or something.”

“No! We’ve gone on a few dates and things are going well. Really well, but the U-Haul has not been packed yet. I’d love for you to meet her.”

“You’re really willing to risk that? You must really like this woman.”

“Well it seems whether I like it or not I’m stuck with you. Besides, she’s tough. I think she can hold her own, even against you.”

“Does she have a name?”

“Alice”

“Alice”

“So you’ll have dinner with us?”

“Dinner? What am I, your mother?”

“Agatha! Why do you have to be so difficult?”

“Fine! I’ll think about it. It’s not going to be anytime soon right?”

“You tell me when you’re free.”

“Good because I’ve got a lot going on. It likely won’t be soon.”

“Bullshit with Evanora?”

“Primarily. She hasn’t stopped bugging me about signing the forms.”

“Why haven’t you signed them?”

“Mostly because I know it will piss her off. But also I don’t know if I want to deal with any of it. The idea of it also gives me a headache.” 

“So, you’d get his entire estate right?”

“It’s not as exciting as it sounds. He was a hoarder so the place is filled with stuff I would have to go through before I could even sell it. I don’t know if I’d have the time or energy.” 

“You’d really sell it?”

“It’s in Boston! It’s also ancient and needs quite a bit of work. I’d never move there, though it would be nice to see the place.”

“Who knows what you could find. May give you some closure.” 

“Perhaps. I’ll probably sign, but I’m waiting until the last minute. I can’t give my mother too much satisfaction. Honestly I need to change my number again, she’s becoming unbearable now that she knows how to contact me.”

“You know you can block her in your phone.”

“What?”

“You can make it so you don’t get any messages or calls from her.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“It’s never come up before. Give me your phone.” Jen grabbed Agatha’s phone, quickly unlocking it. “You have to pick a better password than 123456. There you go. No more Evanora.”

“I knew I kept you around for something.” The women continued to chat through brunch, Jen mostly babbling about the goings on at the hospital as Agatha stuffed her face with every breakfast food. She really hadn’t realized how hungry she had gotten. By the end of the meal she was so stuffed she had to head back home and take a nap.

Agatha barely made it through her front door before she collapsed on her couch. Scratchy made his way onto her stomach where he made himself comfortable and they both quickly fell asleep. 3 hours later she awoke in a haze, arm numb from hanging off the side of the couch. Slowly, she sat up pushing Scratchy off her lap. She felt that flush nauseated feeling of having napped for too long. She gradually made her way to her feet, stumbling to her kitchen for a glass of water which she once again chugged. She shuffled down her hallway and into the guest bathroom. Flicking on the lights she caught the sight of herself in the mirror. Hair, a long tangled rats nest. Her makeup smeared across the one side of her face. Her clothes were crumpled on her body slightly clinging to her sweaty frame. I guess now is as good a time as any. She thought to herself. She opened the cabinet below her sink grabbing the box of pregnancy tests. Wearily she grabbed a test, using it as she relieved herself of the nearly 2 liters of water she had consumed at brunch. She placed it on the counter and made her way to her bedroom to change. 

Eventually she made her way back out to the kitchen grabbing a few handfuls of nuts and she settled into the book she had tried to start that morning. Mr. Scratchy once again made himself comfortable on her lap and she lost herself in the pages of the novel. Over an hour had passed and once again she had to pee. She shuffled Scratchy off her lap and made her way back to the hall bathroom. She sat down quickly then happened to look over at the counter. Shit, she had managed to forget she had taken the test. From where she was sitting she couldn’t see the result. Good, she wasn’t quite ready. She finished and flushed the toilet standing to meet her gaze in the mirror. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. It’s fine either way. She turned on the faucet and reached down to wash her hands, glancing over. Negative. She felt a slight twinge in her chest and took a hard swallow. Her stomach didn’t drop nearly as far as it had the last few times. She had resigned herself to this outcome after the last miscarriage. She didn’t think she could survive another one. Looking back in the mirror, her eyes beginning to mist, she smiled at herself. Letting out a big sigh she let the feeling of relief wash over her. It was done. This part of her life was over and in this moment she felt a sense of freedom, releasing something that was not meant to be. For a brief moment she allowed herself to grieve the life she had planned for.

She wiped away the tears that had fallen and threw away the test. With some sense of urgency she went to her work bag and pulled out the folder with the forms to her grandfather’s estate. She perused them one final time and signed them. She sent an email to her lawyer letting her know she’d drop off the forms tomorrow on the way to work. Before she closed her phone she noticed a text from Jen.

I’m assuming you made it home alright. Remember to let me know when you’re free to meet Alice.

She sighed. Knowing Jen, she wouldn’t let Agatha rest until they made plans. Since she pulled the trigger on the estate paperwork, might as well keep it up and solidify plans with Jen. 

Yes I’m alive. We’ll do dinner in two weeks, on that Friday. I’m not making or bringing anything. 

Jen must have been waiting by the phone since she got an instant reply. 

Don’t worry we’ll go out! See you then!  She thought about reaching out to Ralph, letting him know it once again hadn’t worked, despite his best efforts. Though now he was somewhere in the Caribbean entertaining cruise guests. It wasn’t urgent and it wasn’t good news. It could wait until he returned in a couple months. For now she started mentally preparing herself to deal with the estate, and likely her mother. And Jen and her new girlfriend Alice. The thought of it, along with the board meetings, fundraisers, and benefits plaguing her time over the next few months suddenly made her nauseated. Having had enough for one day, that was supposed to have been relaxing, she grabbed her book and headed to bed.

[glorfindel-of-imladris]

Glorfindel Week | Day 1: Valinor Headcanons

Glorfindel headcanons for his time in Valinor for @glorfindelweek 💛✨

I primarily write in the Second/Third Age, but I do have headcanons for Glorfindel in his youth and in Valinor that do influence my writing. I thought that today's prompt gives me a good opportunity to share them!

Born after Turgon, around Galadriel and Aredhel’s age. Glorfindel's actual age has never actually come up in my writing (other than he's Very Old), but the idea of it does influence his dynamic with other characters. He is younger than Turgon, and in a way defers to him beyond Turgon just being his king. Turgon is like an older brother to him. Ecthelion is slightly older, but barely; Egalmoth is a little younger, but also barely. Glorfindel treats them as peers as well as his best friends. Galadriel is also a peer and so he interacts with her as such, especially after his return in the Second Age and well into the Third Age. Glorfindel's age also somewhat affects his dynamic with Erestor, whom I of course write him with plenty. While I also now mostly write Erestor as having been born during the Years of the Trees, he is always specifically younger than Glorfindel. I don't think I ever mention it though and I'm not even sure if the effect is noticeable, but it's there. 🤭

Mostly Ñoldorin, but part-Vanyarin, cousin of Elenwë. This is an old but popular headcanon for Glorfindel, considering how: 1) it was said that Glorfindel crossed the Helcaraxë out of his kinship with Turgon; and 2) he has golden hair. I adopted it very early and just ran with it all these years. One thing that has changed over the years is that although I have written him as a pure Vanya before, I have now resolved to have him as part-Ñoldorin because, while, yes, there is support in the text that he is also a Ñoldo, my personal reason is that Glorfindel was the only one among Fingolfin’s host that canonically didn't take part in the kinslaying at Alqualondë. I dislike the idea that some clans are better than others, that violence was a mark of the Ñoldor while “goodness” is ascribed mostly to the Vanyar, who happen to be the whitest of the white among the races in Arda.

Has sisters (and maybe one brother). I imagine Glorfindel as having siblings; he just has that vibe about him. I usually place him around second out of five children, with the older sibling to him being always a sister. The placement sometimes changes, and sometimes there isn't even a brother at all (or if there was, Glorfindel hasn't met him before he left with Fingolfin's host), but somehow key to my idea of Glorfindel is that he has sisters and he has a good relationship with all of them. He is therefore comfortable with women, is gentle with them, and relates with them easily. He does, however, stand a bit independent of his sisters, who share a close bond among themselves, and he is the only one in his family to join the hosts crossing to Middle-earth.

Bonus: Valinor, post-death

He has returned to Middle-earth at least once before the Second Age, by fighting in the War of the Wrath. According to The History of Middle-earth, Glorfindel was reimbodied shortly after his death, within the First Age. Given that he already was there when Eärendil arrived asking the Valar for aid, you cannot convince me that Glorfindel wouldn't have gone. There was hardly anyone in Valinor more motivated to help Eärendil than Glorfindel himself, Eärendil’s savior in Gondolin, and you can take this headcanon from my cold and dead fingers.

Emissary of Manwë, learned from Nienna. It was also said that Glorfindel became a follower and friend of Olórin (Gandalf) in Valinor, so this isn't much of a stretch considering Olórin's alignment as well as a Maia. Given also how Glorfindel was returned primarily for his "goodness", and the fact that he was steadfast against the kinslayings, and his care and love for people, Nienna as the Vala he most aligns with also is not a stretch.

[in-stitchesx]

Nah after work today I changed my mind I *am* posting

Tw for a good amount of stuff. If you're sensitive right now, I understand. Come back to it another time. This is not a "delete later" post. I don't care if it's serious, and I'm just a silly blog, it needs to be said and seen where I stand on this

These last few days have been an absolute nightmare for everyone. That's an understatement. Everyone is afraid, or at least people with more than a few brain cells

I work at a morgue. I am employed here long term and it is my full time job. I do body transportation and all the other things a mortician would do. If you could know the amount of people who have lost their lives in these last two days alone, by suicide in itself. The numbers have fucking skyrocketed and that's just in a 30 mile radius of where I live, not counting the other homes I've been in contact within the neighboring cities. The sheer amount of these deaths being that of the LGBTQ community, the transgender community, and various groups that would be considered minorities. I have lost two people I knew for years.

This should have never been this bad.

We are fighting against ourselves at this point. You fought for what? To revoke the rights of people who have done nothing to you?

You don't know how many women are going to die because of abortion bans and refusals

You don't know how many children are going to be ripped apart from their families because of deportation

I don't know everything about politics, not as much as some people Im close to, and I won't begin to throw out some number percentage to prove my point or throw out names and dates. You see it. You're seeing it everywhere. We are all afraid and we have good reason to be

Millions are going to lose their healthcare because of this douche. *I'm* going to lose my healthcare. I was already recommended by doctors to sign a DNR because of my health risks and the possibility of losing my insurance as someone with a life threatening illness

And there is so, so much more. What I'm saying is just scratching the surface

I could go on this rant, but you guys aren't here for one of my tangents yet. Ending on another serious note, if you didn't vote, disrespectfully fuck you. If you voted for trump, an even more disrespectful fuck you. Yes I'm even mad even if you voted for a third party. If you fall into those categories I want you off my blog. You don't stand for what I represent and you sure as hell don't respect the people in my communities

For the people I love, friends and whatnot, please stay safe. Take care of yourselves, turn off the phone just for a few hours. It's understandable to plunge into social media when you're stressed and defeated, but block the tags you need a break from, even if it's just for a day. Talk to the people you love, tell them you love them. Don't let them forget it. I'm out, you can get some hot takes from me later. Goodnight yall

[purplesurveys]

1991

Do you wear a ring on your finger? I don't.

What are you doing?  I'm taking this as a way to wait for my phone to have enough charge since I want to be able to use it in (my loft) bed before going to sleep. I also just came back to my room after spending the last hour and a half watching the new episode of Good Day.

Do you listen to your friends’ advice when they give it to you?  I do for the most part since I'm clueless and lost about Everything, but I also let them know if I plan to do something else and list down my reasons for doing so just so they know where I'm coming from.

What’s the last kind of soup you ate?  Almondigas.

Do you currently have a sunburn?  No.

Could you eat nothing but grilled cheese for a week straight?  I'm fairly confident that I could, and that I would be ecstatic about it too lol.

What are you listening to right now?  Just my typing. It's very quiet in my room right now since everything is turned off, including my electric fan and aircon.

Have you ever thought about getting your nose pierced? I've thought about it especially as a teenager when I still thought I was going to load myself with piercings and tattoos, hahaha. I don't entertain the thought anymore.

Can you trust most people?  I don't really, anymore. I'm more closed off now.

Has anyone hurt or betrayed you recently?  Yes.

Is your last ex still someone you care about? Do you still have feelings for your ex? No.

Are you someone’s best friend?  I like to think so, yes.

Biggest annoyance in your life right now?  I want to sleeeeeeeeeeeeep and be in bed but I need to charge my phone a little bit more since there's no plug anywhere near my bed lol

Have you spoken to your mother today?  Yes.

Do you have any tattoo / piercings?  I just have my earlobe piercings, that's it.

Latest you stayed up in the past week?  Around 1 AM. Not too late anymore, but I've also been having a (not the healthiest) habit of waking up stupid early for no reason – I've been waking up at 4 AM for the last how many consecutive days already and will seem to be my body clock's usual for the time being.

Be honest, do you miss anyone?  Not anyone...but I just miss the weekend already, haha. 

What are your plans for tonight?  The 'night' is pretty much over - it's 12:30 AM on a Monday morning - and all that's left for me to do is to sleep before another work week does its best attempt to kill me.

Will tomorrow be better than today? Nah, today was a good day and everything by default is better than Monday. Anyway, today's wins include me getting new clothes, eating my favorite street food, taking the dogs to the vet, seeing TOP go online after 5 million years to like a single Instagram post, and watching Good Day.

Are you the youngest person living in your house?  Nope, I'm the second eldest just after my mom. If my dad is home, I'd be third eldest.

Do you think you will be in a relationship three months from now?  No.

Do you know anyone that smokes weed?  This is 200% a yes even though I wouldn't be able to name names. I just know it's impossible to NOT know someone who hasn't done it.

When did you last eat pizza?  Less than a week ago, eating the last of our Yellow Cab leftovers.

Do you like your hair?  Continued from Sunday. I love it. I didn't expect red to suit me a lot. I'm dreading the day I'll need to wash my hair already because I don't want it to start fading away, lol.

Have you graduated from high school?  Omg yes, it will be 9 years since this year.

Do you ever leave the house without make up on?  Rarely anymore. But today I actually did (leave the house without), for the first time in AGES. You picked the right time for this question hahah. I was just claiming concert tickets today at the mall so I didn't feel the need to put on makeup. I did put on a bucket hat though just so my face is mostly covered.

Do you expect to be married in the next two years?  Nope.

Did you receive a good morning text today?  Nah.

What’s most important in a relationship: honesty or trust?  I would say you definitely need honesty in order to have trust?  < Right? Hahaha.

Do you like to cuddle?  In theory, yeah.

What time did you wake up this morning?  Around 6 AM. 

What are you planning on doing after this survey? I would like to take another one, since I feel like de-stressing tonight. I'm just feeling a little down because today was supposed to be a non-working holiday and yet I worked all afternoon at a coffee shop.

Is your ”love life” complicated?  It's the least complicated thing in the world because there is none, and I don't feel the need to update that anytime soon.

What ruined your day today?  This girl who accused me of scalping for GD's ticket. I was? minding my own business? and she swooped in to doubt me for absolutely no reason? I really hate getting into nonsense arguments on social media, it gets me super anxious especially because I barely talk to anyone in the first place – so it becomes so much more frustrating when someone still has it in them to stir something up. Fans are crazy. LET ME ENJOY MY CHANCE TO SEE GD IN PEACE (minus one)

If you had to choose between a million dollars or to be able to change a regret, which would you chose?  Million dollars.

Where will you be 2 hours from now? In bed, most likely. I need to be at Rockwell by 8:30 AM tomorrow so it's another day of having to allot 2.5 hours just for travel and sleeping very early the night before...

Name the person that has honestly hurt you the most in life?  I haven't muttered their name in years and would like to keep my peace. :)

What were you doing at 8:00 a.m. this morning?  I think I was just watching reels, trying to wake up.

Have you kissed anyone with a tattoo before? No.

Why aren’t you in bed? Too early! It's not even 9 PM. Let me experience whatever holiday I have left, lol.

Do you have any plans for tomorrow?  Just a pretty brutal work day because I will be going from Rockwell > BGC > Pasay. I can already predict that I'd just be going through the motions and will be hugely reserving my social battery, not really talking to anyone unless I'm prompted haha.

[officeobject]

Just remembered that THIS exists, so, uhm, shout-out to me, I guess ... man, this is the personality I'm slowly returning back to ...

Bumpy Ride, but it’s a bumpy ride for your brain and not your body (aka the sexless version of the song, LOL, also, no romo, as always)

Description: 29 July 2023, and I finally just DID IT, and searched up the song … it’s good … if I wanna remember that I’m severely sex-repulsed, (and also aromantic)! Anyways, it’s not stylized, because the emotions are already enough, and also, y’all are welcome, or at least I know I needed this, like, to remember and replace the lyrics subconsciously … okay, FINE, the REAL reason, besides the OTHER reasons, but the MAIN reason, is that this one guy who is also gonna get revenge on the person from the parody BEFORE this one, is theorized by my homie, to only like me as a NORMAL friend, or maybe even only an acquaintance, and to generally treat people nicely, or as I would say, "overly nice", while she thinks that I like him as a maem (which is a friend, but in MY definition thing whatever, like Silverstar, Justice, and the friend the bad guy faked himself to be), despite me having a huge platonic preference for opinion-based treatment, and he probably can’t get Quotev (which at least means he probably won’t be able to see as many posts at the time, which is lucky, because my account is … SPECIAL), and also that he MAYBE will reciprocate, but maybe he won’t, she doesn’t know, and I’m like “since WHEN did I show signs of having a squish (aka a crush except you wanna be friends instead)?!”, and also, even if I DO (possibly due to how much he cares, how nice he was, his personality, and the fact that he knew some of the things I was talking about, and related to some things, and felt the same way towards some things, and did revenge, and didn’t seem to be weirded out, nor even confused, nor even see me as TOO intense), but also, he is so … “protective”, or whatever, because, you know, I’m autistic, like, I’m “one of the autists”, and “like this autistic person I know”, or something, and I didn’t like that (though he apologized), because, like … you know … I may have symptoms, and do some generically autistic things, but I’m still … whatever … this … is … anyways, BASICALLY, if I would, hypothetically, and if I DO, like him, as in, NOT as an acquaintance, then I would metaphorically roll my eyes at those feelings, because first of all, he probably wouldn’t feel the same, nor even have a concept of that, and second of all, there is a big chance of him being like “hoes before bros”, and also, I’d probably want to be his favorite (and yes, I am aware I already AM someone’s favorite, so please pray for me, so I can know what the fuck is going on in my subconscious), and third of all, like, is there a guarantee, that we CAN hypothetically keep in contact, like, I’m just saying? ANYWAYS, in conclusion, due to wanting to make this for a while, general frustration, being frustrated at a specific situation, AND being in the “scaring away” phase, AND also because I KNOW he might read this so it’s a good example of the extreme sentient being extreme, and for fun, and stuff, I made THIS, TODAY! 

The “Despacito” parody, is now marked with a “🎧” as the first, and also, I just re-read it, and holy shit … well, at least it gets the point across, I suppose, so people can probably easily decide if they wanna be more than an acquaintance. Here is the parody, that has a “God knows what relationship we will have in the future, but welcome to my account” type of relationship, which not 100% about someone specific):

🎶I wanna change your life like you’re changing mine,

I’m gonna be THE mess, not gonna take it slow,

Hey, let me mess your brain, like your hair, when I pat it …

(It’s gonna be a unique time …)

It’s the outsider world, yeah, my bitches know the drill,

Everything’s NEON, when I take the wheel …

I’m from the city where we survive with luck and screenshots,

Your life is like that, but I’m passed that, like the captain of power I am. 

It’s all about the brain, I’m taking over as if God told me to do so,

Accidentally surprised another one, well, at least this is fun.

You want my heart, senti? Even if you don’t, good luck.

I’m gonna pour your emotions over,

‘Til they’re all over,

I can make your mind surrender to mine …

Yeah, I can make you suffer,

Do whatever,

‘Cause I know I’m one of a kind …

Tell me, who can love you? (This doggie!)

Hold you? (This doggie!)

Make your mind end up, like me?

You will never find another me!

Who can love you? (This doggie!)

Hold you? (This doggie!)

Make you whine, like a dog?

I come with a warning, so just ask God!

I wanna bark, bark, bark, ‘til your subconscious hears.

My emotions are ruff, and I speed-run stuff.

Yeah, let me cling to the idea, just like an average dog.

(It’s gonna be a unique time …)

I wanna get you high, on your own emotions.

We’re gonna be intense, before we’re gonna cope.

Yeah, I will make you let your emotions out.

(It’s gonna be a unique time …)

Yeah, I’ll be in your memory,

And on your mind,

And I’m not planning to stop …

I’ll take your enemies down, 

Work from nothing,

And on your “favorites” list, I’ll be the one …

Tell me, who can love you? (This doggie!)

Hold you? (This doggie!)

Make you want to know, just me?

You will never find another me!

Who can love you? (This doggie!)

Hold you? (This doggie!)

Make you feel all kinds of things, and never stop?

I come with a warning, so just ask God!

I wanna entertain, and also have control,

We gonna need to get you used to that thing, though,

Yeah, let me move your mind, more than my wagging tail.

(It’s gonna be a unique time …)

I wanna play with your brain, don’t make me a surgeon,

I’m gonna be too much, before you gotta go,

Yeah, you will feel concepts, that you didn’t know.

(It’s gonna be a unique time …)

Yeah, I’m here, senti,

I know someone else might seem like all that, senti,

But, WOO, not when you know me.

I ain’t gonna lie, and your focus is probably mine, 

And trust me, when I tell you, this parody probably already did something.

And I’m still gonna play,

It’s so easy for me to feel things.

So now I’m partying, dance-squatting, this is MY city!

I may not know some things, nor some concepts, and lack abilities,

And I’m not socially great, but somehow, that didn’t stop your brain …

I’m gonna be over-the-top,

Under “just an account”,

Accidentally just might change your life …

Yeah, I can make you happy,

But what should I be?

‘Cause I seem so fake, yet I’m real …

I wanna custom-dance, with your mind, yo,

I’m gonna lean on it, before I will be calm,

Yeah, I’m gonna let you know, how being with me goes.

(It’s gonna be a unique time …)

I wanna make an entrance, to your brain, yo,

I’ll make you feel a squish, now you can’t let go,

Yeah, I’m gonna make you stim, ‘til your emotions give in.

(It’s gonna be a unique time …)

I wanna make you cling, more than me to plushies,

And I could bring support, like me with my objects,

Yeah, you can keep me, always, like a new thing.

(It’s mentally a bumpy ride …)🎶

[where-the-wind-travels]

wip wednesday ✦

thank you @cadybear420 for the tag! ♡

i haven't updated any of my choices writing in... literal months, and while i am currently getting back into it, it's not for this fandom. nevertheless i found this wip which was supposed to be my june challenge entry, but then things happened™️ (june was a very sick month for me) and i ended up leaving it with only the very beginning scene written... still, i might finish and post it sometime lmao

this is pretty much my self indulgent mcflint first date/love confession fic, featuring euphemia's nosy ass third wheeling for them from the power dimension. takes place one year post-ilw, shadow ending + gate opened.

(i don't know who to tag since pretty much everyone prior to me was already tagged OOPS 😭 still, "tagging" everyone who wants to join in!)

below the cut because of length + not my best use of mood whiplash, but for those interested dw all the rest of this is going to be pure fluff

“I'm home!” A cheerful voice rang across the living room, followed by a sigh as Mercedes leaned against the doorframe, letting go of the shopping bags she had been carrying. “Oof, these things are heavy. Think any of you could help me?” Abel, who'd previously been sitting on the couch waiting for his sister to come home from her shopping trip, all but sprinted to the door and picked up a bag. “Manita, why? Just how many things did you buy? And what did I tell you about overspending?” Mercedes rolled her eyes fondly. “It's for you, Abel, not for me. And besides, it's not overspending if I actually planned what I'm spending on,” she added. “Since you couldn't decide on what to make for today's plans, I just bought the ingredients for everything you listed.” “Today's plans? Why are you saying that as if you're a part of it?” He put down the bag, placing it on the living room table near the vase full of white jasmine flowers he'd bought a few months ago. They're fake — after all, Abel has never been the best at taking care of plants, what with all his responsibilities and tendency to get distracted — but he doesn't think about that, nor does he like to. It doesn't matter if they're fake, they're still beautiful. And he got them because of him, the one person that's been occupying most of his mind, but whom he's never been brave enough to confess his real feelings for. He likes keeping things that remind him of Lincoln. He always did, and even now — especially now — he still does. “Because I am! I agreed to help you prepare the food and calm your nerves and do all that…” She paused to take a deep breath. “Sorry. You know all this time I've been really excited that things are back to normal with Lincoln, and—” “Wait, what? Nerves? I thought they were just hanging out, what's so important about this occasion?” Lola interrupted from inside the kitchen, not looking up from the bowl of cereal she poured herself. “You tell her or I tell her? If you don't, then I will,” Mercedes spoke, grinning and failing to hide the giggle coming out of her. Abel sighed. “Fine, I'll tell her. Because right now, you're starting to sound a lot like…” “Like…” A pang of grief and sadness, like a storm crashing into a beach that had been bright and sunny just a few moments ago, struck him as he thought of her. His best friend's younger half sister, the girl that had the same love for pirates, history and language as he had, the girl that never once left his side – anyone's side – even as he was going through his worst moments yet. Despite only being part of their lives for about a month – and despite sharing blood with the same man who ruined them, manipulated them, used them for his own selfish wants while claiming there's good behind his intentions – she knew her friends as if she'd spent a lifetime with them. And she might as well have. When comparing this girl's brightness and warmth to that of the Sun, the Sun itself fell short. She was a fighter, yes, but also a devoted and compassionate soul whose utmost priority was protecting and caring for others – not just her friends, but others in general, no matter if she didn't know them personally. And oh, how she loved peering into Abel's relationship with Lincoln. Even before Abel himself knew that what he wanted was something different from being friends again, she knew. She'd always wanted for them to reconcile and be happy together, she saw the spark inside both of them that no one else did. She'd gush to Amalia about how cute she thought they'd look together and smiled so bright when she saw them getting along, no matter how much they insisted they weren't. And now her wish came true, but she's gone. Why did it have to be her?

[qetalos]

WHAT'S YOUR ETA? | Sunoo & Jungwon

p: non idol!Sunoo x non idol!Jungwon x gn!reader

synopsis: you've broken up with your ex and your two best friends are there for you to help you go through it. One day, they make you choose one of them to stay with you, because they won't share you between themselves. Who are you staying with?

note: ahh third post of the nwjns series :'') you'll find this event here

long post!!

아주 눈부시게, honestly, 우리 사이에 He's been totally lying, yeah

Ever since I broke up with my ex, Sunoo and Jungwon have been attached with me to the hip. They're my best friends and because of that they've been with me through all my break up with my actual ex.

Although they're always with me, helping me and comforting me, they don't get along very well between each other. The reason why? I wish I knew because none of them has ever told me why they can't be alone together not even for five minutes.

I don't really mind about that at the moment, because I just care if they are with me. They told me to not worry about their grudges and that's what I try to do, even if the curiosity eats me up sometimes when I see Sunoo side eyeing Jungwon or when Jungwon scoffs at Sunoo's words.

Today we decided to meet at a café and spend some time together, I sat while waiting for them. The first one to arrive was Sunoo. He instantly smiled at me the first second he arrived, and sat down next to me as we started talking.

"How's it going? Do you feel better after what happened with... Them?" Sunoo asked, referring to my ex. I sighed softly "Yeah, I'm good. I haven't thought about them as I've been spending a lot of time outside haha" I said and Sunoo chuckled, nodding. "He didn't deserve you. I knew he was lying whenever he said he was busy, even on your birthday!" Sunoo said and I chuckled bittersweetly while nodding "Yeah.. he never covered up his lies well". We talked for about five more minutes before Jungwon arrived, he greeted me and vowed slightly to Sunoo as he sat down in front of us.

"How's it going ___?" He asked and I smiled "All good" "Have you ordered yet? Sorry the bus was late" he apologized and I nodded softly, understanding his situation "No we haven't ordered yet, and don't worry about that" "Let's order, then." Jungwon said and I nodded, the waiter came and took our orders.

내 말 믿어, you deserve better than that 내가 도와줄게, 걔는 그냥 playing

Sunoo and Jungwon always made sure of reassuring me about how good and nice I was and how my ex didn't deserve me. They were always there reaching out for me and comforting me if I suddenly had a breakdown and didn't feel well.

Last Tuesday we decided to meet and to go walk around the park for a while, I agreed and we set our hang out there.

When I arrived I saw Jungwon and Sunoo already at the park, each one of them on their phone as they wouldn't talk to one another when I wasn't there. I walked to them and they both looked up, they smiled and Jungwon greeted me.

"Hey ___, let's go?" He said and I nodded I smiled at Sunoo and we started walking around. We talked for a while as we moved around the park, stopping to take some pictures of the view in front of us. After walking around for quite a while, they told me we should sit down and I said yes as I was already tired of walking. The three of us sat down on a bench in front of some swings.

Sunoo moved to look at me, he gazed to the floor before looking up again "You know, ___" He started "That our relationship, with me and Jungwon, isn't the best. And lately, after your break up, we've been hanging out a lot the three of us together.." he said while looking at me, I nodded in signal of telling him to continue "And so, we thought about you should choose one of us. Because it'd be better for you, and us, if you only stayed with either me or Jungwon" he finished and I nodded, I looked away. What were they asking for? Choosing between my two best friends? I didn't get the reason why but it surely was because of their own inside "argument", so I decided to stay silent and nod. "Okay.." I said softly "You don't have to choose just now" Jungwon said "If you want, we can give you one month to decide. You can spend two weeks with me and then the other two with Sunoo. So when the months ends, you can have your answer" he said and I nodded, maybe that could help me decide... "Okay, let's do that" I said and they nodded, this was strange but I guess I'll have to do it even if I'm not sure if I'll be able to choose.

We can go wherever you like, now where are you?

I spent the first two weeks with Sunoo, we went out to some places and just had a lot of fun together laughing and talking, maybe gossiping too.

He always managed to make me laugh and have a good time around him, remarking the way he'd treat me like this if I chose him instead of Jungwon.

"Hey! Come back! I still have to put your facemask on!" He shouted as I ran away from him and around the house, his house. He invited me over to his house to have a sleepover and watch some movies, maybe eat something and play some board games. Right now I left him inside his bathroom as we were doing some skincare routine session, and he wanted me to use one of his facemasks. I didn't want to as I wanted to go and continue watching the movie we were watching before going to the bathroom, but I had to agree to do our skincare.

I laughed as I ran around his house, trying not to trip over anything that could be laying on the floor. I jumped over the couch and he stood in front of me, holding the little packet which had the facemask inside it. Sunoo looked really funny from my point of view, facemask on and a hairband on too. I couldn't stop laughing while I tried to dodge him so I could go away and continue running.

In the end, Sunoo ended up catching me and putting on the facemask. I had to give up but we could still continue the movie. We ate snacks and pulled an all nighter, because none of us could sleep. It was a nice night and we had a lot of fun. The next morning I woke up and decided to wake up Sunoo too, because it was 13:44 p.m. I had lunch at his place too and went back to my apartment, he bid me goodbye from his door and I walked back home by myself while enjoying some time alone. It wasn't that Sunoo's presence wasn't good but, it was strange how I'll had to chose between him and my other best friend... Wasn't it weird?

Today was Sunday and that was my last day with Sunoo before I spent two weeks with Jungwon, and after decide who I'll stay with. With Sunoo today, we just went for something simple and set a meeting at a café nearby my place.

I met him there and we spent the afternoon there, after eating something and chatting for a while Sunoo told me he wanted to walk around the park before I could go home. While we were at the park we bumped into some swings and decided to go to them and just stay for a while, it was night already so it wouldn't hurt anyone if some people used the swings for a while, right?

"___?" He called me "Yes?" "I'd like to tell you this before you go back home and your week with Jungwon starts" he said and got up from the swing, walking over to me. He stood up after me and held eye contact "If Jungwon dumps you or if you don't feel good with him during your two weeks together, my phone's always on to receive any calls from you" he said and I blushed slightly at his words. Sunoo smiled softly at me and pulled me up from the swing before walking with me out from the playground "Where are we going?" I asked, confused on how he had pulled me up and started walking without talking "To your house, it's getting late don't you think?" He asked while looking at me as we walked through the streets "Oh yeah it is quite late already" I said after looking at the time in my watch. 20:47 p.m was on full display on it, it was late indeed.

We reached my apartment and Sunoo stood up in front of me smiling "See you in two weeks ___" he said and I nodded "See you, Sun" I said and smiled; I separated to walk to my apartment's entrance but Sunoo stopped me before kissing me on my cheek, whispering "I hope you choose well" and pushed me slightly inside as he walked away, not turning around. I stood dumbfounded at his actions, I tried to wake up myself and entered my apartment still deep in thought thanks to Sunoo's actions.

We can go wherever you like, baby say the words and I'm down

On my first week with Jungwon everything went well. As I did with Sunoo, we went out and spent a lot of time laughing and having fun. We even went to the cinema and he took me out to have dinner at different places. Jungwon also told me that this would be the same if I chose him before Sunoo and that he'd treat me better than he could ever do. And that made me think again, why were they doing this?

"Look this one is cute!" "No! The bunny one looks better!" We decided to go to an amusement park that day. Jungwon told me he'd win one of the big plushies on display for me, in one of the games at the park and he told me to choose one plushie to keep. "Okay, I'll get the bunny one for you then.." he sighed and I laughed. Jungwon played and finally won the plushie for me, he handed it to me and I smiled thanking him.

"Where do you wanna go now? Tell me and we'll go" he said and I looked around, smiling before pointing the ferris wheel "let's go to the ferris wheel" I said and he nodded, his dimples on display thanks to his smile. We walked over to get in line before getting to the ferris wheel. After a while we got in and soon after it started.

"Woah it looks really nice from here" I said while looking over all the amusement park from our seat. It suddenly stopped and we could admire the view we had for us, the neon lights from the park shining and reflecting everywhere. "Are you having fun?" Jungwon asked me, looking over to me as we sat next to each other "A lot, and you?" I said smiling softly "I am having fun too" he said and his dimples popped out again and I chuckled to that "What? Why are you laughing?" He asked as I suddenly let out a laugh "Nothing, I just find cute the way your dimples pop out" I said and reached my finger to touch one of them, chuckling after doing so. Jungwon laughed too at my silly actions, we were really having fun.

Later that evening we went back home, we laughed and talked about anything until we reached the bus stop. We had to take different buses but we waited for them at the same place.

"What time is it already?" I asked Jungwon, he took out his phone and showed it to me "it's 19:39 p.m already... Quite late haha" he said and I nodded "I hope that our buses don't take much to come" I said and he nodded. After a while his bus stopped in front of us but I didn't see Jungwon getting up to take it, I looked at him confused and he looked at me too "What?" "Isn't that your bus?" "Yeah, why?" "Aren't you going to take it?" "No, i'll wait until yours comes and then I'll take mine" he said and I stayed silent for a second, his reason had taken me off guard. "Okay" I said looking away, I don't even know why I blushed at his words. He was just going to wait for mine before he could take his bus and that made me feel flustered? Oh god.

"Where do you wanna go next?" Jungwon asked me, looking to the road in front of us "mhm... Maybe to the arcade?" I suggested and he nodded "When would you like to go? Tomorrow evening maybe?" "Yeah that sounds good to me" I said and he sent a smile to my, sending one back too.

My bus came visible from afar and that meant I'll have to go. I got up and Jungwon did too, soon the bus was in front of us and I had to get in.

"See you tomorrow, ___" he said and I nodded, he hugged me and ruffled my hair slightly "See you, Won" I said and got inside the bus, waving at him after sitting down. When my bus wasn't visible anymore, Jungwon sat down again. He scoffed to himself.

"You won't win this, Kim Sunoo"

"Do you wanna grab something to eat?" Jungwon asked me. Today was our last day together before I had to choose between him or Sunoo, to be honest I was nervous about that day. We were walking down the streets as we had decided to go to the mall before going back home "maybe we can buy something at the mall?" "Good for me, then" he said and we continued walking. To be completely honest, this week with Jungwon was really nice. We had a lot of fun and spent a lot of time outside to different places. But, I can't compare him to Sunoo, and I can't compare Sunoo to Jungwon. They're both so special to me that I can't compare them, how am I going to be able to choose between them?

We entered the mall and looked around for a while, stopping to check out some of the things they had on display in every shop. Eventually, I got a bit hungry so I told Jungwon, so that we could go to one of the food spaces and buy something to eat for lunch. "Won?" "Mhm?" "I'm hungry already.." I said and chuckled softly after "Oh okay, where do you wanna go from here?" He asked me and I looked around before making my choice "Let's go there! I heard that the food they sell is really good" I suggested and Jungwon nodded, walking over to the counter and making our order.

"You weren't wrong ___!" Jungwon said as he ate again from what we had ordered "I know right?!" I chuckled and Jungwon nodded as he drank some water "Yes, it's really good!" He said and I smiled. We spent some more time at the mall after having lunch before going back home.

"Have you made a choice already?" Jungwon asked me as we walked side by side on the street on our way home "For tomorrow? Not really... It's hard" I admitted looking down as we walked "It's okay, ___. I know it's a bit difficult but I'm sure you'll make a good choice" he said and I smiled softly at him "The thing is... You and Sunoo are the best choice, the two of you" I said and heard Jungwon sigh beside me "I hope you choose well tomorrow" he said, before hugging me. I didn't realize when we were already in front of my apartment "I'll see you tomorrow ___, we'll send you a text, with Sunoo, to tell you where we'll meet" Jungwon said and I nodded "Okay, see you Won" I said and waved softly at him. I entered my apartment's building and into the lift, when I got to my floor I got inside my house and let out a sigh. What have I gotten myself into?

Jungwon told me that we were going to meet at the Han River with him and Sunoo so I could tell them my choice. I received a text from both of them, Sunoo and Jungwon.

Sun: what's your ETA, ___?

Won: ___, what's your ETA?

This was going to be hard for me. I replied them that I was going to arrive soon and continued my way to the river. I was nervous, a lot. I haven't even stopped to think about my own choice, what was I going to do?

I arrived and they were waiting for me already, I walked to them and they greeted me with a smile. Sunoo looked at me and I avoided his gaze along with Jungwon's. "Have you made your choice ___?" Sunoo asked me and I looked around, trying to think of an answer. I nodded, even when I wasn't sure of my answer "Then who it is, ___?" Jungwon asked me. He and Sunoo spoke again, making me move my gaze upwards to their faces.

"Who are you choosing, ___?"

☆゜・。。

Thank you for reading!

do not copy, repost on other socials or translate. all rights reserved to @/stqrlite.

-🏷️

[anachronisims]

Get to know you: Sims Style

thanks @eulaliasims !

What’s your favorite Sims death?

What a macabre start to the survey lol… I hardly ever let my sims die, so kind of none, but my least least-favorite is probably dying of fright.

Alpha CC or Maxis Match?

Club Crimson and GoS foreverrrrrr (but I'll take whatever's out there, I really don't care tbh)

Do you cheat your sims weight?

Lol you can tell they wrote this survey for TS4 players… yes, sometimes the game makes them not-fat anymore and I'm like… no, really, that's not how this sim's metabolism works thanks

Do you move objects?

…do you NOT?

Favorite Mod?

There are a lot of new good ones but hands-down my ultimate all-time favorite is the Community Time mod by crammyboy, as later tweaked by Chris Hatch. I cannot live without this mod and it is 50% of the reason I hate playing TS4. Why is it suddenly an ISBI anytime someone leaves the house? Who wants to play that game??

First Expansion/Game Pack/Stuff Pack?

Livin' Large

Do you pronounce live mode like aLIVE or LIVing?

(a)LIVE Mode wtf do you also pronounce gif like the peanut butter?

Who’s your favorite sim that you’ve made?

Any of my Meraki founders, they are my forever darlings

Have you made a simself?

Not since 2009

Which is your favorite EA hair color?

Ew, gross. Natural: Shrapnel (which is BROWN), and Unnatural: HMX

Favorite EA hair?

Again… gross? #hideeverything

Favorite life stage?

Child, probably

Are you a builder or are you in it for the gameplay?

The eternal question, isn't it?

Are you a CC creator?

I'm a CC adapter.

Do you have any Simblr friends or a Sim Squad?

I'd like to think so! Shout-out to @niamh-sims, @fireflowersims, @fracturedmoonlight, and @gayars

Do you have any sims merch?

No but there is a plumbob tshirt on my Christmas list

Do you have a YouTube for sims?

Technically yes, but I never posted my swimmable pond tutorial there because #adhd

How has your “Sims style” changed throughout your years of playing?

I was definitely a casual player/serious CC collector for most of the first decade of the game. I was probably one of the first people to experience pink flashing from overloading dense, urban neighborhoods, and the game never being able to handle my dreams (in aLIVE mode) limited my actual playtime substantially. I took a couple years off and then in 2016 or 2017 came back enraptured with the Test of Time challenge (and modifying the ToT challenge rules as much as anything). Meraki is my third iteration of that, working past neighborhood corruption (1ST attempt; 4th gen) and founder fatigue (2nd attempt; barely got off the ground, it was just too weird trying again). Now (lately) I'm back to regular modern play (which means CC collecting and neighborhood setup, apparently).

Who’s your favorite CC creator?

Today, Jacky93sims lol. ATS for longevity. Adele for details. HS for the infinitely useful Arizona sofa lol

How long have you had Simblr?

Probably… 2018-2019? I think I got the idea for Meraki around the time of my honeymoon and that's when I came up with the name 'anachronisims,' and my prior tumblr was just a general purpose thought repository.

What expansion/gamepack is your favorite?

Seasons. In any game. Seasons.

impossible to keep track of who's done these already especially since i can't keep a close eye on my dash so i assume these folks have already done it BUT i tag: @fireflowersims @fracturedmoonlight @moocha-muses @frauhupfner