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buckets-and-trees · 1 month ago

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Red, White & True: Brooklyn - Pre-Interview [7/13]

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 5.8k Summary: After a week apart on the campaign trail, you're reunited with Steve to get ready for the biggest interview of your life.

Content/Warnings: marriage of political convenience, slow burn

Notes: People have been asking about the wedding since chapter one, and you won't get EVERYTHING here, but you will learn a little about how those days went. 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

[OCTOBER 5 - EARLY AFTERNOON - BROOKLYN, NEW YORK]

As the car pulls up to the brownstone, your heart begins to race. The familiar facade of red brick and ornate cornices looms before you, a blend of historic charm and modern restoration. The wrought-iron fence that lines the front garden is exactly as you remember it, its intricate patterns casting delicate shadows on the sidewalk in the early afternoon sun. The trees that line the street are ablaze with color - brilliant golds, fiery oranges, and deep crimsons - a stark contrast to the evergreen palms you left behind in California just hours ago.

As you step out of the vehicle, the cool air nips at your cheeks. You gaze up at the four-story building, and the sight of it all brings a flood of memories from those two nights in June - the nervous energy of the night before your wedding, the surreal feeling of returning here as newlyweds though you were still virtually strangers. The first night Steve had been detained in New Hampshire, so you’d stayed in the house alone. The second night you had politely slept in separate bedrooms.

There had been no honeymoon. Instead the two of you had traveled to the Stark corporate retreat facilities two miles up the road from the rustic mansion Tony and Pepper had designed and built together for their family life in upstate New York, and the preparation for the presidential run had moved into the final phases of coaching, strategy, styling consultations, wardrobe outfitting, public address exercises and the like now that you had officially joined the team.

Thinking back on it now, you wonder how either of you managed to make it through the blend of politeness and awkwardness, the concerted efforts to be warm even though both of you were keeping your distance and taking turns testing the waters.

It would be laughable if it wasn’t your life.

One day you will probably laugh about it. Whether or not it will be with Steve by your side… that’s still not clear.

Though it does feel like that longterm reality becomes more of a possibility every day.

As you climb the steps to the front door, you hear a bevy of movement inside. Your pulse quickens, knowing Steve is already here. You've spoken every day this past week, but phone calls and video chats can't compare to being in the same room.

The week apart had been good for you. Instead of closeness by virtue of proximity, the two of you had had to connect purely through conversation; and without sun-up-to-sundown schedules that orbited around each other, the thirty guaranteed minutes became treasured, guarded, and looked forward to.

Sophia is rushing in ahead of you, and you pause for just a moment before stepping over the threshold, taking a deep breath to calm the skittering of your heart.

The entryway is warm and inviting, filled with the soft glow of late afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows. There’s a thriving buzz of energy and discussion going on as campaign staff fill the living room and are filtering in and out. The scent of fresh coffee wafts through the air, mingling with the faint aroma of old books and polished wood that seems to permeate the brownstone.

There are many hello’s and greetings for you and Sophia, and you ask, “Where’s Steve?

"In here!" Steve's voice calls out from the direction of the kitchen.

You make your way through the bustling living room, nodding more greetings to staff members as you pass. The kitchen doorway comes into view, and your breath catches as you see Steve for the first time in a week.

You round the corner into the spacious kitchen and there he is, leaning against the counter in conversation with Bucky and Jake, a mug of coffee in his hand. The late afternoon sun streaming through the window casts a warm glow on his profile, highlighting the strong line of his jaw and the golden hues in his hair. He looks relaxed, at ease in a way you rarely see him on the campaign trail.

His eyes light up when he sees you, a warm smile spreading across his face.

"Hey," he says softly, setting down his coffee and taking a step towards you.

"Hey yourself," you reply, your own smile matching his. The kitchen suddenly feels very crowded - most of your life with Steve was surrounded by other people.

Diplomatically, Jake and Bucky begin conversing with each other, giving you a bit of privacy, and Steve closes the distance between you in a few strides. There's a moment of hesitation, both of you unsure how to greet each other after a week apart. But before you can say anything else, he wraps you in a tight embrace. The hug is warm and comforting, Steve's strong arms wrapping around you securely. You breathe in his familiar scent, a mix of soap and something uniquely him. Briefly the bustle of the campaign fades away, and it's just the two of you. A tension you didn't even realize you were carrying in your shoulders begins to dissipate.

"Welcome home," he murmurs into your hair.

You pull back slightly, looking into his familiar face. "Home," you repeat softly, testing the word. It feels right, somehow, in a way it didn't before.

Steve's eyes search your face, as if trying to memorize every detail. "How was your flight?"

"Long," you admit with a small laugh. "But productive. Sophia and I went over the schedule for the next few days."

"I'm glad you made it back safely," Steve says, his hand warm on your lower back as he guides you further into the kitchen. "I know the West Coast tour was grueling."

You nod, feeling the exhaustion of the past week in your bones, not that either of you are strangers to exhaustion these past months. "It was intense, but I think we made some real progress out there. The response at the events with Helen Santos was incredible."

Now that you’re at the counter, Jake and Bucky tune into the conversation with you. "I saw some of the coverage,” Bucky said, his eyes lighting up with interest. “You two seemed to really connect with the crowds."

"She's amazing," you say, a note of admiration in your voice. "The way she can command a room, inspire people... I learned so much just watching her."

"I'm sure you held your own," Steve says with a soft smile. "I heard great things about your speeches."

A warmth spreads through your chest at his words.

“Of course she held her own,” Jake interjects, looking like a proud dad, and you can’t help but glow at his proclamation - he’s the political aficionado and has no reason to give false praise. “We’ve got great polling and social media engagement surges we can tie right back to your work with Zoey over the last week.

“Now, we've got a lot to cover," Jake continues, his tone businesslike but with a hint of eagerness. "The interview is in three days, and we need to make sure we're all on the same page."

You nod, grateful for the shift to campaign matters. It gives you a moment to collect yourself, to process the warmth of Steve's greeting and the conflicting emotions it stirs within you.

"Right," you say, slipping into professional mode. "What's our game plan?"

Jake launches into a detailed rundown of the schedule leading up to the interview, outlining prep sessions and strategy meetings. As he speaks, you're acutely aware of Steve's presence beside you, his hand still resting lightly on your lower back. It's a casual touch, one that would look natural to anyone observing, but it sends a small thrill through you.

"We've got a mock interview scheduled for tonight after dinner, and we’ll try to wrap up between nine and ten-”

You and Steve exchange a surprised glance, both of your eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"I'm sorry, did you say we'd be wrapping up at nine or ten?" Steve asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Jake nods, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "That's right. You two marvel and joke all you want, but tomorrow isn’t just another game day, it’s the Super Bowl of interviews. You’ll need proper rest."

You can't help but chuckle, the sound bubbling up from your chest. After months of grueling 18-hour days that often stretched well past midnight, the idea of having an evening to yourselves seems almost decadent, a luxury you'd forgotten existed.

"I'm not sure I even remember what to do with free time," you joke, looking up at Steve.

“Alright, alright,” Jake says. “You get some lunch, Mrs. Rogers, and we’ll get going in about forty-five minutes.”

[OCTOBER 5 - EVENING - BROOKLYN BROWNSTONE]

The mock interview had gone well, all things considered. Lisa, always poised and professional in her role as campaign spokesperson, has taken on the role of faux-Oprah for the mock interview. She had been practicing for days, studying her posture, mannerisms, and way of speaking in order to mimic Oprah's signature warmth and openness.

Because Oprah was the one who had scooped in and taken the chance to interview Captain America and Mrs. Rogers.

Oprah.

Oprah would be in your home.

Talking to you.

Lisa had thrown many curveballs at you and Steve, probing for weak spots in your narrative and testing your ability to present a united front. For as many public addresses and press appearances as you had done, none of them had been jointly even if you and Steve had been at them together. This was the first time focusing on you and Steve as a married couple, side by side. By the end, you were mentally exhausted but reasonably confident. The real interview would be challenging, but you and Steve had a firm grasp on your rhythm and you felt prepared.

Now, as promised, you find yourself with an unexpected evening of freedom stretching out before you. The house is quiet, the campaign staff having departed for their hotels or to work on other projects. It's just you and Steve, alone in the brownstone for the first time since the awkward night after your wedding.

For a moment, neither of you moves. The quiet is almost deafening after the constant buzz of activity that's surrounded you both for so long. You can hear the tick of the antique clock in the foyer, the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, the distant sound of traffic outside. It's strange, almost unsettling, to be surrounded by such stillness.

You glance at Steve, catching his eye. He looks as uncertain as you feel, standing there in the living room, hands in his pockets. The conversations over the phone while you had been apart had grown so natural, but now that you are physically together, alone as you so rarely had ever been, the question of what now? hangs in the air.

Just as you open your mouth to speak, both of your phones buzz simultaneously. You exchange a curious glance before reaching for your devices.

It's a text from Sophie.

Check the kitchen. Enjoy your evening off!

Intrigued, you and Steve make your way to the kitchen, your footsteps echoing on the hardwood floors. The warm glow of the pendant lights above the island casts a cozy ambiance as you enter the room.

On the granite countertop, you find an array of options laid out before you. There's a mixing bowl, surrounded by ingredients; a package of cookie dough; a box from a bakery; and a card propped up in front.

You reach for the card, your fingers brushing against the thick cardstock. As you open it, you can't help but smile at the message inside.

Choose Your Own Cookie Adventure!

Option 1: Mix it up! All the ingredients are here for chocolate chip cookies from scratch. Recipe card included.

Option 2: Easy Bake! Pre-made dough ready to pop in the oven.

Option 3: Instant Gratification! Gourmet cookies from Levain Bakery.

Enjoy your evening off and indulge in something sweet together.

You look up at Steve, a mix of amusement and warmth spreading through your chest. "Well," you say, gesturing to the spread before you and handing him the card, "what'll it be, Captain?"

Steve's eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles, skimming the message and taking in the options. "I'm tempted by the instant gratification," he admits with a chuckle, "but there's something to be said for the satisfaction of making something from scratch."

You nod, excited at the prospect of doing something so normal. "I agree. So option one together?"

"Sounds perfect," Steve says, already rolling up his sleeves. "I have to warn you, though, I'm not exactly known for my baking skills."

You laugh, the sound light and genuine. "Mine are rusty, so this should be interesting."

As you set to work, there's a comfortable ease between you that wasn't there before. The week apart seems to have reset something, allowing you to just be yourselves without the constant pressure of the campaign surrounding you.

Steve measures out the flour while you cream the butter and sugar together in the mixing bowl. The familiar motions of baking bring back memories of childhood, of lazy weekend afternoons spent in the kitchen with your mother.

"You know," you say, glancing over at Steve as he carefully levels off a cup of flour, "I used to bake cookies with my mom all the time when I was little. It was our Sunday afternoon ritual."

Steve looks up, a soft smile playing at his lips. "That sounds nice. What kind did you make?"

"Oh, all kinds," you reply, whisking the eggs into the butter mixture. "Chocolate chip was a staple, of course. But we baked through most of Martha Stewart’s cookie cookbook.”

“Sweets of any kind were a luxury when I was growing up,” Steve explains,

carefully adding the flour to your mixture.

As he says it, you remember that his formative years took place against the landscape of the Great Depression.

His voice takes on a wistful tone as he continues. "My mom would save up sometimes to make oatmeal cookies for special occasions. I remember the smell filling our tiny apartment."

You pause in your mixing, touched by the image of a young Steve eagerly anticipating his mother's rare treat. "That sounds lovely," you say softly. "I bet those were the best cookies in the world to you."

Steve nods, a faraway look in his eyes. "They really were. I've never tasted anything quite like them since."

There's a moment of comfortable silence as you both work, lost in your own thoughts and memories.

"You know," you say after a while, "I think there's something special about baking. It's not just about the end result, but the process itself. The measuring, the mixing, the way the kitchen fills with warmth and sweet aromas. It's methodical and therapeutic, in a way."

Steve nods thoughtfully as he folds chocolate chips into the dough. "I can see that. Following the steps, creating something with your hands."

You smile, watching him work. There's something endearing about seeing Captain America, the legendary super-soldier, carefully folding chocolate chips into cookie dough. "Exactly. It's a nice change of pace from the constant strategizing and speechwriting we've been doing."

As you work together to scoop the dough onto baking sheets, you find yourself relaxing more and more. The conversation flows easily, punctuated by laughter as you trade stories about kitchen mishaps and childhood memories.

Steve carefully slides the first tray of cookies into the oven, and your inner child buzzes with excellent knowing soon the kitchen will be filled with the warm, sweet aroma of chocolate and vanilla.

You lean against the counter, watching Steve as he sets the timer. There's a domesticity to this moment that catches you off guard, a glimpse of what a normal life with him might look like. It's both thrilling and terrifying. Nothing you’ve done together yet has been conventional in any way, but this is.

You grab a spoon and carve out a scoop of dough to enjoy while you wait. With this kitchen having multiple ovens, all your trays will be done at the same time.

"So, tell me more about your week," you say. "I know we talked every day, but it's not the same as being there."

Steve leans against the counter opposite you, his eyes warm as he considers your question while you savor the sweet, buttery flavor of the raw cookie dough.

"It was...different," he says thoughtfully. "Good in some ways, challenging in others. After everything that happened around Athens and Miami, I felt off-balance for the first couple of days. But the work helped ground me."

You nod, understanding exactly what he means. The campaign trail has a way of demanding your full attention, leaving little room for personal introspection.

"The rallies were energizing," Steve says, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice. "There's something incredible about connecting with people face-to-face, hearing their stories, their hopes for the future." He pauses, his brow furrowing slightly. "But I missed having you there beside me. It felt incomplete."

Your heart flutters at his words, and you try to keep your voice steady as you respond. "I know what you mean. The events with Helen and Zoey were amazing, but I kept turning to share something with you, only to remember you weren't there.”

Steve's eyes soften as he meets your gaze. "I'm glad we're back together now," he says quietly. "It feels right, having you here."

A comfortable silence falls between you, filled with the warm scent of baking cookies. You're acutely aware of Steve's presence across from you, the way his eyes linger on your face. There's an intensity to his gaze that sends a shiver down your spine.

The timer dings, breaking the moment. Steve moves to check the cookies, and you can't help but admire the way he moves, graceful despite his size. He pulls out the trays, the smell of freshly baked cookies filling the kitchen.

"They look perfect," you say, peering over his shoulder. The cookies are golden brown, with melted chocolate chips peeking through.

Steve grins, looking pleased. "Not bad for a couple of amateurs.”

You gather a plate and some glasses from one of the cupboards. Steve fills the plate with cookies while you pour some (your preference) milk, and then the two of you gravitate to the living room and land on the couch, diving into the cookies and more conversation.

As you settle in, the warmth of the freshly baked cookies and the comfort of Steve's presence beside you create a cozy atmosphere. The living room, usually a hub of campaign activity, feels different now - intimate and personal. Like it could really be a home you and Steve could live in.

"These are actually pretty good," Steve says, taking a bite of a cookie. "Maybe we missed our calling as bakers."

You laugh, reaching for your own cookie. "I don't know about that. I think the country might have something to say if we suddenly abandoned the campaign to open a bakery."

"True," Steve chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Guess we have a back up plan.”

You laugh, and reach for another cookie.

“I have to admit, some days the idea of pulling the chute and bailing for a simpler life is too tempting."

You nod, understanding exactly what he means. "It's funny, isn't it? How something as simple as baking cookies can feel so... normal. So far removed from the craziness of our lives right now."

Steve nods, his expression thoughtful. "It's moments like these that remind me why we're doing all of this. For a future where people can just live. Bake cookies. Spend time with their families without worrying about the next crisis."

You feel a surge of warmth at his words, at the reminder of the man you married - the one who sees beyond himself, who wants to make the world better for everyone. It’s key to why you were willing to leap blindly into the partnership. "You're right," you say softly. "It's easy to get caught up in the day-to-day chaos of the campaign and forget the bigger picture."

There's a comfortable silence as you both munch on cookies, lost in thought. The ticking of the clock and the distant hum of traffic outside continuing their soothing background noise.

"You know," Steve says after a while, turning to face you more fully on the couch, "If we win, if we don't, either way, things will never be quite 'normal', but..."

He trails off, and you find yourself holding your breath, waiting for him to continue. It's the first time either of you has really broached the subject of your future together beyond the campaign.

"But?" you prompt gently, your heart racing.

Steve meets your eyes, his gaze intense and sincere. "But I'd like to think we could have more moments like this. Quiet evenings, doing ordinary things together. Building a life that's ours, not just the one the public sees."

Your breath catches in your throat at his words. It's a beautiful picture he's painting, one that you've wondered over yourself.

You feel a warmth spreading through your chest at Steve's words. The idea of building a life together, of having more quiet moments like this, is both thrilling and terrifying. You've spent so much time focusing on the campaign, on presenting the perfect image to the public, that you've barely allowed yourself to imagine what comes after. You’re married, but how married are you? How married will you be?

"I'd like that too," you admit softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's strange, isn't it? We jumped into this marriage, into this campaign, without really knowing each other. And now..."

"And now?" Steve prompts, his eyes searching yours.

Now I can't imagine my life without you in it you think, but you don’t know if you are ready to say it.

You take a deep breath, mustering up at least some of your courage. "Now whether we're in the White House or not, I want us to keep building this."

Steve's hand finds yours, his fingers intertwining with yours. His touch is warm and comforting, grounding you in the moment.

"I want that too," he says softly, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of your hand. "When I first agreed to this arrangement, I never imagined..." He trails off, shaking his head slightly.

"What?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Steve's eyes meet yours, filled with an intensity that takes your breath away. "I never imagined I'd feel this way. That we'd fit together so well, not just as partners in the campaign, but as..." He pauses, searching for the right words. "As us."

Your heart races at his admission. It mirrors your own feelings so closely - the surprise at how naturally you've fallen into step with each other, the growing depth of your connection. You've both danced around this topic for months, especially the last weeks as neither of you can help but acknowledge the growing connection between you, but never quite putting it into words until now.

"I know what you mean," you say softly, squeezing his hand. "It's been unexpected, but in the best way possible."

Steve's eyes soften, a mix of relief and joy flickering across his face. His hand tightens around yours. "I'm glad I'm not alone in feeling that way," he says, his voice low and intimate.

The air between you feels charged, thick with unspoken emotions and possibilities. You're acutely aware of how close Steve is sitting, of the warmth of his hand in yours, of the way his eyes keep flickering to your lips.

"Steve," you whisper, your heart pounding.

He leans in slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away if you want to. But you don't. Instead, you find yourself meeting him halfway.

The kiss is soft and tentative at first, a

gentle press of lips that sends a shiver down your spine. It's nothing like the chaste, public kisses you've shared for the cameras or at your wedding. It’s not even like the rushed spontaneous kiss when you got news of the Santos endorsement.

This is real, intimate, just for the two of you.

Steve's free hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. You lean into his touch, your own hand moving to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your palm.

The kiss deepens, slow and exploratory. There's no rush, no urgency - just the two of you, finally allowing yourselves this moment of connection. It feels both thrilling and familiar, like coming home to a place you've never been before.

When you finally pull apart, you're both slightly breathless. Steve rests his forehead against yours. His eyes are closed, a look of contentment on his face that makes your heart swell. You take a shaky breath, overwhelmed by the intensity of your feelings and the moment you just experienced.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since we left Miami. Or longer.”

“Me, too,” you admit.

You and Steve shift back slightly, creating a small space between you, but your hands remain intertwined. The tension that had been building for weeks has eased, replaced by a warm, comfortable closeness. You both reach for another cookie, exchanging shy smiles.

"These really are good," you say, savoring the rich chocolate flavor. "We make a pretty good team in the kitchen."

Steve chuckles, his thumb absently stroking the back of your hand. "We make a good team everywhere, I think."

You nod, feeling a surge of affection for this man who has become such an integral part of your life. The living room, bathed in the soft glow of the lamps, feels like a cocoon of warmth and safety.

"I think we might need more milk," you say with a soft laugh, reaching for another cookie. The plate between you is already half empty, a testament to your shared sweet tooth and the quality of your baking.

Steve chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. "I'll get it," he says, but makes no move to get up, instead pulling you closer.

You sigh contentedly, resting your head on his shoulder.

As the night goes on, the conversation continues to become more intimate, more easy, more comfortable on the couch. Steve eats far too many cookies. You fight the exhaustion that’s been creeping up more insistently, especially as you feel more and more cozy on the couch and nestled against him. But at some point you lose the fight and drift off to sleep and your next moment of awareness is waking up the next morning in a plush king-sized bed, surrounded by luxurious sheets and pillows.

Steve must have carried you upstairs while you were sleeping, and you shift around to see if he’s there, only to find the other side of the bed empty and clearly untouched.

[OCTOBER 6 - MORNING - BROOKLYN BROWNSTONE]

You sigh, more than a little disappointed. But the sweetness of the time you did spend awake together eases the pain, and you have to admit that you would prefer to be alert and aware to appreciate going to bed with your husband for the first time.

You stretch, feeling the soft sheets against your skin. The morning light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. For a moment, you allow yourself to imagine waking up next to Steve, his strong arm draped over your waist, his breath warm on your neck.

Shaking off the reverie, you swing your legs over the side of the bed to begin your day. You quickly shower in the en suite bathroom and get ready for the day. This isn’t a familiar space yet, but it is your new home, outfitted with a mix of new and familiar things for you from hair and skincare products to clothes in the closet. As you dress, you catch the faint aroma of coffee wafting up from downstairs along with the bustling noises of other people. The campaign work is already underway for the day, and you give yourself one more quick look before heading down.

Following the scent, you make your way to the kitchen. Steve is there, his back to you as he stands at the counter, pouring coffee into a mug and talking with Jake and Elsa. They immediately clock you coming in and look your way. Steve notices the shift in their attention and looks over his shoulder.

"Good morning," he says, turning to greet you with a warm smile. He looks sharp in a crisp button-down and slacks. "I hope you slept well."

"I did, thank you," you reply, padding over to the coffee maker.

Steve reaches into the cupboard to retrieve a mug and passes it to you.

"Thanks," you say, accepting the mug from Steve with a smile. As you pour your coffee, you can't help but notice how seamlessly he anticipated your needs. It's a small gesture, but it speaks to how in tune you're becoming with each other.

"Just in time to hear the final anticipated schedule for today," Jake says, his tablet in hand.

You nod, taking a sip of your coffee. "Of course. What's first on the agenda?"

As Jake begins to outline the day's activities, you and Steve stand closer to each other, your arm pressed lightly against his - or his arm pressed against yours. Either way, it’s another subtle but normal moment of intimacy.

Oprah and her team will show up around eight for breakfast and introductions. After breakfast, you’ll speak with her people while the do some initial exploration of topics and background stories to give Oprah notes and options to work from. Elsa reiterates - as she explained during the afternoon prep the day before - that this is the approach because Oprah wants her own context but to be able to have conversation within the interview for the first time, not recreating an exchange.

Lunch will be just you and Steve, Bucky and Sam, Oprah, her partner Stedman, and Oprah’s best friend Gayle. While the breakfast is for introductions, lunch is to relax and build rapport before the cameras are set up and you go into the interview.

As Jake finishes outlining the schedule, you can't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness about the day ahead. Though you’ve developed relationships with Steve, Bucky, Sam, and many of the campaign staff, including Jake and Sophia, you can’t help wishing someone from your past was here today to be part of it all. The prospect of spending time with Oprah, one of the most influential figures in media, is both thrilling and daunting.

The house starts to buzz with even more activity. Stylists arrive to help you and Steve prepare for the day, and a catering team begins setting up for the breakfast.

You and Steve move to the living room, where Bucky and Sam are already seated, deep in conversation. As you approach, Sam looks up with a grin.

"Morning, lovebirds," he teases, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Ready for the big day?"

You roll your eyes good-naturedly as you settle onto the couch next to Steve. "As ready as we'll ever be, I suppose."

"You've got this," Bucky reassures you, his eyes warm and supportive.

"Remember," Sam adds, leaning forward with a grin, "if all else fails, just flash that million-dollar smile and charm Oprah like you charmed us."

You nod, grateful for his encouragement, and Steve takes your hand - which fels as much for him as for you.

Sam launches into a story about a particularly disastrous interview he once had, his animated gestures and spot-on impressions soon having all of you in stitches. Over the past few months, you've grown close to both Bucky and Sam. They've become more than just Steve's friends; they're your friends too. Bucky's quiet strength and dry humor have become a source of comfort, while Sam's infectious optimism and quick wit never fail to lift your spirits during the most stressful moments of the campaign.

There’s a stir of commotion, and you assume Oprah and her camp have arrived, but the face that comes around the corner and into the living room isn’t Oprah.

It’s Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries, architect of this presidential plan, and your friend-sister-mentor, impeccably put together as always, in a crisp white blouse and tailored pants, her strawberry blonde hair falling softly over her shoulders.

Your heart leaps at the sight of her, a wave of relief and joy washing over you. Without hesitation, you jump up from the couch and rush to embrace her.

"Pepper!" you exclaim, wrapping your arms around her. "What are you doing here? I had no idea you were coming!"

"Did you really think I'd miss this? This is a huge day for both of you."

As you pull back from the hug, you can feel the sting of tears in your eyes. You had felt it, but hadn't realized how much you had craved an old familiar face, someone who knew you before all of this began.

Pepper smiles warmly, her eyes sparkling with affection. "I couldn't let you face Oprah without some moral support. Plus, I have a bit of experience with high-profile interviews myself."

You laugh, wiping away a stray tear. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you."

Steve approaches, greeting Pepper with a hug as well. "It's great to have you here, Pepper. Thank you for coming."

"Of course," Pepper says, looking between the two of you with a knowing smile. "How are you both holding up?"

"Nervous," you admit. "But more secure now that you're here."

Pepper nods understandingly. "That's perfectly normal. Just remember, Oprah is incredibly skilled at making people feel comfortable. She doesn’t look to trap people or back them into a corner, she’s looking for the heart of the things that are important. Be yourselves, and you'll do great."

As if on cue, there's another commotion at the front door. This time, it's unmistakably Oprah's arrival. The energy in the house shifts instantly, a palpable excitement filling the air.

You take a deep breath, reaching for Steve's hand once more. Pepper gives you both an encouraging nod as you move towards the entryway to greet your guest.

And there she is - Oprah Winfrey, larger than life and yet somehow exactly as warm and approachable as she appears on screen. Her presence fills the room, commanding attention without even trying.

"Good morning!" Oprah greets you both with a dazzling smile, extending her hand. "It's wonderful to finally meet you in person."

Steve steps forward first, extending his hand. "Ms. Winfrey, it's an honor. Thank you for coming."

"Please, call me Oprah," she says, shaking Steve's hand warmly before turning to you. "And you must be Mrs. Rogers. I've been looking forward to getting to know you."

next part: BROOKLYN - THE INTERVIEW

I am sure we didn't find out everything you wanted to about your wedding, but... I had to leave something for Oprah! 🤭

THE UNSUNG HERO OF THIS CHAPTER IS @stargazingfangirl18!!! I was feeling very strung up with some of the ideas that I had intended for this story's plot coming up against some of the ideas that have developed as the chapters have been written, and she helped me get things sorted and to a place where I'm incredibly excited again!

↠ 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!

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x yn #red white & true #aspen wrote something

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rose-tea-and-strawberries · 1 year ago

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A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes

How Ace and Deuce Fantasise About Their Crush, The Prefect

Reader/Yuu is female

Masterlist

Ace Trappola

Deuce is his biggest rival so usually his fantasies involve you choosing him over his fellow Heartslabyul first year

Usually he would be goofing off ‘studying or doing homework’ and his thoughts would inevitably turn to you and he gets hit with the visual of your beaming smile and shimmering eyes lighting up in adoration as you praise him over his marks on a test like “Wow Ace! I can’t believe you got all of this right - you’re so much smarter and stronger and more handsome and better than Deuce in every way!” and he’d be filled with determination to actually study so you would kiss praise him

Sometimes he would daydream about you wearing his basketball jersey to one of his matches and cheering him on (which you do already anyway - the cheering, not the jersey wearing) and during a tense sports anime worthy match with fast action and slow motion and reaction cuts where your gazing at him admiringly (this boy is literally filming an episode of Haikyuu in his mind) and the scores are neck and neck and he’s about to throw the winning shot and he looks at you winks and is like “this one’s for you” and gets it in, single handedly winning the game and his teammates are freaking out and everyone on the stands are cheering his name and he’s handed the trophy as he’s lifted onto his seniors' shoulders and then you’re there (abandoning Deuce and Grim at the stands) and you congratulate him and you’re kissing him and he’s woken up 🙁

He’s the type of guy to daydream about you in a cheerleading outfit, waving around pom poms and cheering him on - not in a creepy, weird way but more in a cute, endearing way

During the Ghost Bride incident™, you were dressed in a wedding dress to match with all of the suitors’ groom suits and his mind did an application.exe has stopped working before rebooting and immediately got flooded with visuals of you and him getting married

Since he did punch Riddle on the reader’s behalf and flip out at Malleus over Malleus’ completely harmless ‘prank’ during the Spectral Soiree (real king behaviour, what a man *wipes tear*), he does feel protective over them so I think he’d these fantasies where he’s protecting you from danger and bridal carrying you away and you’re swooning over him like ‘my hero ♡’ and peck his cheek

He really does like writing Ace x Reader fanfic in his head, doesn’t he?

I think many of his daydreams would be more ‘what-if’ scenarios where he would lay awake in bed at night, the lights are off and his dormmates are dozing off on their own beds around him, and his mind wanders into how the events of the day would’ve played off if he actually did have the courage to act on his own desires, if he actually did admit he found your smile beautiful during lunchtime, if he actually did hold your hand on your way to class, if he actually did confess his feelings…

If the legends of old are true and that whatever you wish for, you keep, he really really hopes that he gets to keep you

Deuce Spade

It’s canon that he’s a romantic since he has an admiration for the King and Queen of Hearts’ relationship so his fantasies are very reminiscent of classical romances

I headcanon that his mother loves romantic movies and shows (both period and modern) and he loves to watch them with her (he prefers period films/shows over modern ones since he’s been a sucker for fairy tales since he was five)

Even though his fantasies of you are super innocent, he still feels super guilty over having them over his best friend. He thinks it’s wrong to think of kissing someone so kind and sweet when they only see him as a friend and he kind of hates himself for not hating the visions his mind cooks up.

He’s very protective in nature so his daydreams usually feature him saving you à la traditional fairy tale or classic silver screen damsel in distress and her dashing hero or knight in shining armour (not because he sees you as a damsel in distress - you don’t just fight off overblots and live in Twisted Wonderland without being the strongest person ever in his eyes - but because he likes the idea of being strong enough to protect you from danger or you knowing that you can always rely on him to protect you). This, though, also kind of stems from his inner guilt at not being able to save you from the harm you’ve already undergone.

He likes to imagine the two of you stargazing, your figures draped in moonlight as you kiss each other, or the two of you on a white marble balcony, surrounded by doves and baby pink blossoms falling from the trees around you, or the two of you dancing in a ballroom, or kissing in the rain, or giving you piggybacks, or picking you up and twirling you around as you laugh in pure joy, or giving you his jackets or every other cliche he wants and yearns so badly to have with you

Sometimes when he does something good like finish his dorm chores or come first in track club he imagines your voice cheering him on like ‘I knew you could do it, Deuce’

He loves it when his daydreams get domestic. His favourite one is when imaginary you and imaginary him are in a chicken coop, surrounded by baby chicks.

Whilst his fantasies are very idyllic and so flowery they could put a florist out of business, he does like the ones that tap into his past as a bad boy where he takes you joyriding on his magical wheel, your arms wrapped around his torso and head resting between his shoulder blades, or he impresses you with his mechanical skills as he fixes a car, or your patching him up after a fight (a fight that happened because imaginary you was being harassed by gang of goons and he came in and saved the day like an action hero)

When he was a stargazer, you were the one who earnestly gave your full support in his dreams and your belief that all of his wishes will inevitably be granted so would you mind terribly if he told you his hearts’ greatest desire

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #fem reader

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it-happened-one-fic · 1 month ago

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Bridal Visions: Photoshoot #2 - Liyue Bridal - Tests

Summary: You weren’t quite sure what you would’ve expected from modeling traditionally-styled bridal clothes with Zhongli, but you really should’ve been prepared for a slew of fun facts about wedding traditions. But even then you wouldn’t have been prepared for the test of will that was seeing Zhongli in a groom's outfit standing next to you while you wore a bride’s clothes.

Type: Female reader/ 800 Followers Event/ series/ sfw/ fluff/ flirtation

Bridal Visions Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1438

I shifted slightly where I stood next to Zhongli, and it was honestly strange to see the man, who was usually dressed from head to toe in shades of brown, gold and black, in a brilliant red color. Though the gold accents were still present.

But then, I had been told that the woman who’d designed the bridal clothes we were currently modeling had designed them with each of the countries' traditions in mind. And, as Zhongli had confirmed, red was a traditional wedding color for Liyue, and these outfits matched that tradition with their brilliant crimson hue that was paired with shiny gold embroidery to make for an incredibly flashy look.

I could only imagine how long it took to complete just one sleeve of my outfit’s jacket, let alone all of it with all of the embroidery, though.

The designer, Chiori, stood next to a young photographer with their heads bent towards one another as the two of them discussed what pose to try next.

Me and Zhongli had already been seated for one image, and then we’d tried it with me sitting and him standing, and now we were apparently going to do one with both of us standing. But, I supposed it would have been ridiculous to even hope that we’d settle on a good image with the first picture.

I glanced down at the paper fan in my hands, idly wondering if it had been purchased from Liyue or made precisely for this photoshoot. At this point, neither option would really surprise me.

It seemed that Chiori had missed nothing in her preparations for this photoshoot.

And, at the very least, I wasn’t bored while waiting for our next pose to be decided. After all, I had Zhongli to keep a steady stream of both conversation and fun facts flowing.

“One common tradition was that the groom would have to go through a series of tests, or overcome certain barriers, before being allowed to see the bride’s face. Many couples still do this today,” I smiled at both Zhongli's words and his amused expression as I eyed him.

The thought of Zhongli being tested before he could see someone’s face was oddly amusing, though, since I honestly couldn’t think of anything that might be difficult for the man. Save for perhaps having to eat certain types of seafood.

“What were the tests like?” I shifted, looking his way as I spoke so that I could better watch him. And, as expected, he looked perfectly amused by the mere thoughts of the tests the groom might have to undergo to prove his worth.

He hummed at my question, glancing my way with a smile before tilting his head, “It is my understanding that they vary based on what the bride’s attendants and family think will be most difficult or amusing.”

I almost snorted at the humor in his tone, shaking my head slightly and causing the golden ornaments in my hair to tinkle like tiny bells, “So for you it would be something like eating eel?”

I grinned at him as I spoke. Watching as a frown crossed his face as he met my gaze, “Only you could think of something so cruel.”

I snickered at his pout before shaking my head again and lightly tapping his chest with the edge of my fan, “No. It should be properly difficult if you’re having to prove yourself. And anything else would be too easy for you.”

He smiled, his brows arching slightly at me as he pressed one hand to his chest, “You flatter me, but you almost make it sound like you would not wish to wed at all.”

I blinked, my eyes widening slightly at his teasing before I frowned at him. Opening my fan and hiding my pout behind it even as I peered at him over the edge of the paper, “Teasing behavior like that is why you should have to undergo such rigorous testing. It’ll be for the bride’s sake.”

He chuckled at my words before glancing over to where Chiori and the photographer were finishing up.

Chiori walked over, gesturing to me lightly as she spoke, “All of our photographs indicate that we have a shy bride, so we’re going to try leaning into that.”

I blinked at her words, utterly thrilled that I already had the fan covering part of my face, if only to hide my reaction.

But I could hardly help acting shy or embarrassed considering I was with Zhongli, of all people. The man was frustratingly charming even when he was simply dispensing some new fun fact.

“So here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to hold up your fan just like that, but you need to smile and look that way, away from him.” I obeyed her instructions, and she nodded approvingly before glancing at Zhongli.

But rather than speaking, Chiori just blinked at him for a moment before nodding, “Yes, that expression right there will do.”

The instant she spoke, I glanced back at Zhongli with a frown, whispering as she walked away from us, “What did you do?”

If anything, my suspicious tone merely further amused him, and he shook his head, “I smiled. I was thinking of how this pose would be fitting since brides are supposed to hide their face until the groom passes his tests.”

I blinked, my eyes widening slightly before a smile crossed my face, and I snorted slightly, “And you definitely haven’t passed any tests regarding eating eel.”

At my words, he inclined his head in agreement, an amused smile crossing his face that had me blinking and looking away from him as I awkwardly fluttered my fan.

But it was just too unfair for him to be able to look that charming when I’d been the one teasing him.

I supposed he was just that good at leaning into his role of an amused groom who wanted to see his bride’s face. And, all at once, I wondered if anyone would ever be able to live up to Zhongli when it came to looking like a picture-perfect husband-to-be.

I could almost feel myself flush at the twisting path my brain had taken to considering Zhongli as a groom rather than just a close friend. Especially since I was definitely considering him as a groom standing next to me just like he was right now. And I could only assume I made some sort of face since the problematic man in question spoke up from beside me in a slightly hushed voice, “What is it?”

His tone wasn’t really one of concern, though. Rather, it was one filled with subtly restrained amusement. Almost like he knew exactly what I was thinking.

I staunchly avoided eye contact, ignoring the slightly giddy smile that wove its way across my face as I looked away from where he leaned slightly towards me, obviously curious about my expression, “Nothing. We’re supposed to be posing anyway.”

No sooner than I’d finished speaking than I heard the camera click and the flash went off. Immediately capturing this moment in time.

Both Zhongli and I twisted over at the same time. Looking towards both Chiori and the photographer, who each had their eyes locked onto the screen of the camera. But even then I could clearly see the smile that spread across Chiori’s face as she nodded approvingly, “Perfect.”

She looked back up at us, her smile disappearing as she took on a more businesslike tone, “Okay, we’ve got what we need. Thank you. I’ll send your payment through the Adventurer’s Guild, so after you change, you’re free to go.”

We both nodded, and I lowered my fan, exhaling a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding before I glanced over at Zhongli, who was smiling in an oddly pleased manner, “I understand that Fontaine has a great number of culinary delights. Since we are here, we should try some.”

I felt myself grin at his words, wholly unsurprised by Zhongli’s perpetual need to try food and no doubt critique it.

I tilted my head at him leaning towards him playfully even as I turned to go get changed, “Do you reckon they’ll have eel available?”

His expression flickered, a frown briefly appearing before his expression shifted once more to something more smug, “Even if they do, I’ll have no need of it. After all, I have already seen your face.”

I giggled lightly at his tone, ignoring his pleased expression as I turned and walked away. Determined not to keep picturing Zhongli as the perfect groom he most definitely would be.

If you would like to read more

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moyokeansimblr · 1 year ago

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Some more patreon requests for @riannon07, oooh boy these challenged me 🤣🤣

Info & download below cut ⬇️

LazyEyelids Slim Fit Jeans on LBB bodyshape. AM only, doesn't have morphs. 12 colors, swatch included. Paired with Oversized Sneakers from... 🤔 I yanked them off the outfit you sent me with them. Polycount is 11k.

Darte77 Leather Vest on LBB bodyshape. AM only, doesn't have morphs. 8 colors, swatch included. Has some clipping under the arms, but I have a hard time fixing bones on higher poly stuff like this because there's so many dots. Polycount is 12k.

LazyEyelids Leather Jacket on LBB bodyshape. AM only, doesn't have morphs. 8 colors, swatch included. Probably has the least clipping of the male clothes but still a little bit. Arms are a lil wonky because apparently I don't know what muscles look like. Polycount is 10k.

Sifix Ariel Dress on e-neilan's bodyshape. AF only, does have morphs! 13 colors, swatch included. Shoes are from ImaginaryBoutique. Polycount is 16k.

LazyEyelids Wedding Dress (with (non) detachable sleeves) on BobbyTH Bootylicious bodyshape. AF only, does not have morphs. 10 colors, swatch included. Clips A LOT ❗❗❗ This dress is not gameplay friendly whatsoever. When I asked @paluding for help closing the bottom of the dress I was told "I don't think this dress is going to be very animation friendly, so don't bother too much with the bones because it's going to be a nightmare anyway" and let me just say.... nightmare was a HUGE understatement 🤣 I strongly considered scrapping this dress multiple times and maybe I should have. I posted a few videos of how badly it was going. I originally wanted legs & shoes but had to scrap those so there's no legs/shoes. Also, there's a weird line shadow that kept appearing only when my test sim walked in a very specific direction....I was not able to figure out where that was coming from to fix it. Long story short, this dress is good from the waist up and should probably only be used for storytelling purposes. It was very much beyond my abilities. Polycount is 15k.

👖👗 LazyEyelids Slim Fit Jeans, Darte77 Leather Vest, LazyEyelids Leather Jacket, Sifix Ariel Dress & LazyEyelids Wedding Dress download on Patreon (FREE)

But please consider becoming a patron if you want to show me support! ❤️🙏 Any support is extremely appreciated!

ts4 credits: @darte77 (blogspot, patreon), @lazyeyelids (patreon), @sifix (tsr)

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violet-fluff · 7 months ago

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Levi x Marley! Reader (Oneshot)

At the drop of a handkerchief

You're strolling through the streets of Marley, humming happily as you eye all the new vendor booths that have come to sell merchandise on this sunny afternoon.

Food, flowers, jewelry, everything you can imagine is here today, with vendors waving you over in an attempt to sway you to buy something.

Although nothing was catching your eye and you were about to call it a day and head home until...

The most beautiful creation stopped you in your tracks.

With your heart pounding and your cheeks flushing red, you lean behind the wall, trying to hide yourself as you take in such a beauty.

But this beauty is no object....this beauty is a person.

A beautiful man.

Skin as white and shiny as a pearl.

Hair as dark as the night.

Eyes as grey as metal.

This man was nothing you have ever seen before.

Quite literally. The suit he’s also wearing is not something you typically see the men of Marley wearing.

He must be from a different country. Which means it will be harder for you to convince him to stay, because there is no way you’re letting this magnificent creature escape you.

Surrounded by his own group of people, you’re anxiety and nerves tell you that you’re not brave enough to go interrupt their conversation to start a new one, so you’re left with no choice…

Smoothing your hair and outfit, you start walking towards him with your head held high.

As you look towards the blue sky, you tell the universe to let it be known if he is your soulmate or not during this test.

As you inch closer, you smile to yourself as the group notices your presence, and when you walk barely past the beautiful man, you slyly flick your wrist to release your handkerchief.

‘One duck, two duck, three duck…’ You count in your head to time how long the seconds pass as you continue walking.

“Oi! You!”

Time stands still as your heart pounds and you do a smooth swivel of your feet to turn around. Your breath hitches when the beautiful man is waving your handkerchief at you.

“You dropped this.” He tells you, his face showing no emotion.

A bit intimidated, you slowly walk over to him, but before you can reach out and grab your belonging, he crumples it in his hand.

“It’s too dirty now.” He grunts, and with his slim fingers, he digs into the front pocket of his dark blue suit.

“Here, you can have mine. It’s clean.” He says, holding a perfectly folded handkerchief out to you.

“O-oh! Ok!” With shaky hands, you grab it from him and gently hold it in your palm. “Thank you, sir. This is very sweet of you.”

Bowing your head slightly in thanks, you quickly turn on your heels and leave.

He watches you leave and Gabi scoffs.

“Gross. I can’t believe I just witnessed that.” She says with a gag.

Levi raises a brow. “What?”

“You fell for the oldest trick in the book.” Falco laughs lightly.

“I have no idea what either of you are talking about.” Levi clicks his teeth and leans against the wall, continuing to watch you walk further and further away.

Onyankopon smiles gently. “It’s something Marley women do to get a man’s attention. They act like they drop something in hopes you pick it up for them.”

Levi’s eyes widen in realization while Hanji bursts out laughing.

“No way, shorty! She had her eyes on you!” Hanji grins and slaps his shoulder.

Falco smiles while Gabi pretends to puke again. “And you gave her a new handkerchief. She’s probably planning your wedding right now.”

Connie gasps. “Captain! Are you going to go after her!”

Levi clicks his teeth. “No. I don’t have time for romance. We have more important matters to work on right now.” He looks away to hide his embarrassment.

Jean sneers and adjusts his hat. “I can’t believe the captain is the one getting all the women.”

As they continue to pester Levi, you watch from afar through a window in a bakery.

“Um, Miss…” The clerk comes up behind you, “You have to buy something to sit in here.”

You wave him off with a hush and go back to watching over your soul mate.

*the dropping of an item to catch the attention of a man was a real tactic used by women during the Victorian era

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #violet: levi ackerman oneshot

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anne-bsd-bibliophile · 8 months ago

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Mirror: The Fiction and Essays of Kōda Aya translated by Ann Sherif

The papers in those days always had some amazing news in them - from the attempted military coup of February the year before to the start of fighting in China just three months later. A ferocious gale had come sweeping through, causing small whirlwinds some days and, at other times, a tremendous commotion that stirred up everything, even the dust in the forgotten corners of the world. I was just a speck of dust in one of the narrowest, most remote niches. - Kōda Aya, "The Medal"

A kimono worn by a woman immature in her emotions can be a powerful thing. Or, to put it another way, clothes have the strength to control one's psyche. To me, the striped outfit was a uniform; it gave me a sense of direction and a feeling of pride in my work. The apron shielded me from all arrows; it acted as a cast to brace me against all blows. It was a metal fire door behind which I could hide the anguish of my heart. - Kōda Aya, "The Medal"

What other child would fail to rise to the occasion when her father was being so honored? He was my only father, and I his only child. Is this any way to behave? I had lost my way at the bottom of a deep abyss. I cast my eyes upward, toward my father, only to see him dimly shrouded by mist. - Kōda Aya, "The Medal"

I know nothing about the breadth of my father's learning, nor do I pretend to understand the scope of his art. I could not tell you what came to him as a matter of luck, what he accomplished through his own talents, nor about his stature among men. Though I may be vastly ignorant, I do have enough sense not to entertain the foolish notion that he is some kind of lion of literature, a king among writers. He was just my father. From my own biased viewpoint, I would say that Father possessed some lionlike qualities, but there were those of a lion who would finish you off or give you the push-off-the-cliff test. - Kōda Aya, "The Medal"

Father was an unusual man. He would point out the beauty of blossoms or clouds in the sky with the very whip he had cracked a moment before. With the same knife he had just used to rive your innards, he would slice up a wedge of some delicacy for you. No one else I knew could perform such feats. There was something solid about him. I felt all at once like a contrite sinner and a puppy dog who is eager to please. I wanted to cut all ties with him, but at the same time I needed him to recognize me as worthy of his love. - Kōda Aya, "The Medal"

Higuchi Ichiyo's nephew Higuchi Etsu once said about [me and my father]: "The parent dons a medal, and the child an apron." I made a show of laughing at his comment, but only because I wanted to hide my weakness. In fact, that apron chafed against my hands and my heart with its unyielding roughness. - Kōda Aya, "The Medal"

One often hears about the magical powers of mirrors. Certainly the mirror's ability to reflect creates this feeling of mystery. The objects around the viewer look so different in the mirror - what was one may multiply into two or even three. Objects that had appeared to be piled up come apart. Something might look real in the mirror, but then when you try to touch it, you can't. It seems to be there but it makes no sound. Is it real or just an illusion? Sometimes you can see through things in a mirror. Some things seem actually to be alive inside the mirror, but once the reflection stops moving, the illusion of life is gone. The mirror's power resides in this ability to confound. - Kōda Aya, "A Friend for Life"

My life was not going smoothly. I could not handle the problems that confronted me and became unbelievably nervous and stubborn. At times, any little thing would set me off in a rage; often I would get upset and break down in tears. I had so many things on my mind. In those days I consoled myself by leaning up against my mirror. To think how proud I had felt of it on my wedding day. Now all I could do was crouch up against it and sigh. In that house it was the only place where I felt calm. The mirror served more as a support for my emotions than as a glass in which I could see my reflection. The sunny location I had chosen for it had been part of my effort to avoid sadness and gloom in my life, but ironically it ended up lodging a darkened, tired soul. I did, in any case, feel most peaceful when I sat by my mirror. - Kōda Aya, "A Friend for Life"

The first time I wiped the glass, I was shocked to discover how dirty a mirror can become. One usually does not notice the dust; a mirror will reflect even when covered with a heavy layer of grime. And once you get used to this, you may end up looking at yourself and trying to make yourself presentable with powder and lipstick, unaware that you are seeing yourself through a haze. But who bothers to dust mirrors? If even smoothly polished glass attracts dust how much more would accumulate on a troubled heart? - Kōda Aya, "A Friend for Life"

Kōda Aya has also been added to the BSD-Bibliophile Online Library!

You can find more information about Kōda Aya-sensei on the following pages:

List of Books in English Quotes and Facts Collection Fun Facts

#kōda aya #japanese literature #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd #book recs #book recomendations

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7squidgy7 · 8 months ago

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✧Cult of the Lamb Fanart dump part 2✧

✧.*-----------------------------------------------------------------------*.✧

Testing out how to draw the bishops here and how they'd be as followers.

Leshy became a farmer, working in the fields with the yellow cat.

Heket is a lumber jack who reads in her spare time (romance is a favourite of hers). She's more suited for a kitchen job but kept eating ingredients so was banned from food production. Although for special occasions she's allowed to cook and makes some of the best food the cults ever had.

Kallamar is an events organiser. When there's no upcoming events he works as a jeweler and sells his creations with his spouses at smugglers sanctuary. Each spouse is represented by a gem on his belt. He has adjusted best to follower life.

Shamura cant work due to their wounds and is under the care of Kallamar. Shamura spends most of their time sitting with Kallamar in his workshop weaving and knitting various elaborate pieces of clothing or decoration.

They all wear a jewel in the shape of their old crowns. These were all made by Kallamar.

I remember seeing a post saying Narinder would play the violin and i think that fits really well. Lambert I like to think doesn't have a musical bone in their body so just plays a little drum off beat.

✧.*-----------------------------------------------------------------------*.✧

Some fanart of @aychama's royal au. I realised half way through making the 1st page that the interaction they're having wouldn't really happen, but I found it funny.

The 2nds image mostly my own Narilamb, but does have a joke image I drew for the royal au, tried to make wedding adjacent clothing while taking inspiration from the original designs.

✧.*-----------------------------------------------------------------------*.✧

Forneus my beloved.

After Aym and Baal were returned to her they got to reconnecting. She would read them children stories occasionally (something they didn't get the opportunity to do together before). Aym and Baal really like them.

After leaving Forneus to travel I like to believe Aym and Baal became travelling merchants/ couriers working with their mum. They occasionally stop by the cult and will trade with Lambert and deliver ordered goods.

On the 1st page you can see I gave them new outfits that are backpack friendly. Ran out of space so Baals the only one who got a full outfit. Aym's is basically the same just a colour swap. You can see little doodles of them both.

#cult of the lamb #narilamb #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #cotl fanart #7squidgy7art

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faerygrant · 7 months ago

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A Berzatto Fathers Day

Being Carmy’s perfect little housewife, having his babies and getting to be his pretty little wife is the best gift you could’ve asked for, therefore you always go above and beyond for him on Father’s Day . He’s awoken to a precise breakfast consisting of poached eggs, oatmeal, pastries and seasonal fruit. All of which are served to him in bed along with giggly smooches and cuddles from your little girls. The girls spend the morning presenting Carmy with his gifts, most of which they’d lovingly handcrafted with you during their arts and crafts hour. The rest of the gifts, were carefully selected items you’d seen and heard Carmen rave about and some were those he’d gaze at a little too longingly whilst you were out running errands.

Once gift giving was over, the babies venture into the garden with Carmy for some play time with their dad whilst you’d gotten a start on the dessert you were to surprise him with later in the evening. The day passes by with the five of you bundled up on the couch, where Carmy’s been ambushed into a special screening of Ratatouille, because the babies just love it so much and insisted on watching “daddy’s work movie” All of the girls are adorning the chef white outfits that nat had gotten them for Christmas, as they wanted to dress up just like their daddy. Part of him finds it so amusing how engrossed they are in the films world of food and the beauty of culinary, while the rational part of him kind of hopes they never have to experience the shit he did.

Once the girls are all wrangled into their respective baths and all put to bed, you’re finally left alone with Carmy. Not before he’s shunned into the bedroom so you have some time to set up the surprise you’d made for him. After what to him feels like forever, you finally summon him into the kitchen, which is dimly lit by the small light and aromatic candles. On the counter sits two perfect slices of Mille-feuille, Carmen’s favourite cake, the two of yours wedding cake in fact. Despite your inability to bake anything you’d really tested your hand with this one, part of you had been tempted to cave and ask Marcus for help, but for you wanted to really do this for Carmen. He’s shocked, knowing despite your many talents, baking wasn’t amongst one of them and is equally as shocked at how well the taste had turned out. The night is ended in sweet kisses of appreciation and ofcourse Carmen lovingly asking that next years Father’s Day gift be another baby that he insists he puts in you right that second

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy x reader #reader x carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fic #the bear fic

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huellitaa · 3 months ago

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long list of little things to do for urself 🧸🎀🫶✨

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 1. wash ur bedding, towels, curtains, etc.

🎀𓂃 ࣪˖ 2. fill up ur shopping baskets on every site possible

🫶🏻𓂃 ࣪˖ 3. clean out cosmetics and skincare

🧁𓂃 ࣪˖ 4. start a project of something you love

⭐𓂃 ࣪˖ 5. browse cute pets to buy one day

💬𓂃 ࣪˖ 6. impulsively rearrange ur space

🩷𓂃 ࣪˖ 7. light some candles (if u arent deathly afraid of fire)

🐇𓂃 ࣪˖ 8. clean out your purse and every day bag

🎀𓂃 ࣪˖ 9. make a pillow fort

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 10. redo all ur playlists and clean them all out

🫶🏻𓂃 ࣪˖ 11. lay on the floor and sing ur fav songs for 3 hours

🧁𓂃 ࣪˖ 12. make a recipe book (even if u cant cook)

⭐𓂃 ࣪˖ 13. clean ur mirrors and windows

💬𓂃 ࣪˖ 14. write a debate about a topic you feel strongly on

🩷𓂃 ࣪˖ 15. create some art to go on ur walls

🐇𓂃 ࣪˖ 16. stick up some old photos or cute things and decorate ur walls

🎀𓂃 ࣪˖ 17. polish ur jewelry

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 18. write a huge essay on something you know nothing about

🫶🏻𓂃 ࣪˖ 19. watch a virtual concert (youtube - tiny desk is v good!)

🧁𓂃 ࣪˖ 20. make urself a big fruit platter

🎀𓂃 ࣪˖ 21. read a parenting book and see how you can incorporate the tips mentioned into how u treat urself

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 22. mend ur old clothes or get someone to help u fix them

🫶🏻𓂃 ࣪˖ 23. read a book w a flashlight and happy music under a blanket

🧁𓂃 ࣪˖ 24. host a tea party w ur plushies and old toys

⭐𓂃 ࣪˖ 25. study ur horoscope for this month and how u can use it to ur advantage

💬𓂃 ࣪˖ 26. go thrifting and window shopping and take photos on ur phone of the things you want to create a visual wishlist

🩷𓂃 ࣪˖ 27. sort through ur books, cds, clothes, etc.; organise and throw out!

🐇𓂃 ࣪˖ 28. perform a concert in ur bedroom of ur fav album ever

🎀𓂃 ࣪˖ 29. dress up and create the most elaborate, unhinged outfits you possibly can

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 30. start a blog or site on something you care about

🫶🏻𓂃 ࣪˖ 31. contemplate ur core philosophies and question what is the meaning of life and what you're living for

🧁𓂃 ࣪˖ 32. spend all day reading a random pdf book ur never gonna find again

⭐𓂃 ࣪˖ 33. plan out ur dream wedding online

💬𓂃 ࣪˖ 34. fully examine ur body and make sure everything's working and looking fine

🩷𓂃 ࣪˖ 35. create outfits within a specific theme and try them on

🐇𓂃 ࣪˖ 36. go online shopping for clothes and make outfits w the things you find even if you don't like them

🎀𓂃 ࣪˖ 37. make a playlist of all the songs u used to love when you were younger

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 38. build a tower out of stationery or anything you can find and make it as tall as you can

🫶🏻𓂃 ࣪˖ 39. take a picture of something ur grateful for wherever you go

🧁𓂃 ࣪˖ 40. live out ur daydreams on pinterest and make random boards of random lifestyles or dreams you have or are interested in

⭐𓂃 ࣪˖ 41. organise ur digital storage like apps, google drive, documents, photos, desktop, games, consoles, etc.

💬𓂃 ࣪˖ 42. randomly set a reminder for somewhen in the future that you can think of saying that everything will be okay

🩷𓂃 ࣪˖ 43. have a park day without ur phone and make ur own entertainment

🐇𓂃 ࣪˖ 44. find ur enneagram number, do ur myers briggs test, study ur birth chart, find out more about urself bcuz ur the most important subject you could ever study

🎀𓂃 ࣪˖ 45. write down ur biggest, wildest dreams with no bounds whatsoever

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 46. attentively track ur moods for a day or a few; take note of how ur feeling every few hours, note it down and ask urself what impacts it to change and fluctuate

🫶🏻𓂃 ࣪˖ 47. educate urself in whats going on in the world right now

🧁𓂃 ࣪˖ 48. learn about the history of ur home town

⭐𓂃 ࣪˖ 49. create a list of all ur favourite things and rank them like cosmetics, perfumes, bands, foods, drinks, etc.

💬𓂃 ࣪˖ 50. make a music video playlist to play on ur tv

all my love... 💬🎀🫶🏻💗

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deliciousangelfestival · 4 months ago

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I Hate It When You're Drunk - 9

Character: bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Summary: A forbidden romance between a princess and her bodyguard leads to a dramatic wedding, but their happiness is soon overshadowed by political intrigue and betrayal, testing their love and resolve.

I Hate It When You're Drunk Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on : Ko-fi 🙏🏻please, please please.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Watching the former queen leave the palace felt surreal. But seeing the king lose his composure, even for a moment, made it all worth it.

Perhaps Alicia's return stirred something in Leonard. Did her presence remind him of who he used to be? Does he feel guilt for taking the life of the former king and his siblings?

Leonard clicked his tongue, clearly frustrated, but he couldn't do anything since she was a diplomatic guest.

"Welcome to the family," he said, tapping Bucky's shoulder. "As of today, you're officially part of royalty."

Bucky stood tall, his expression composed despite the turmoil of the evening. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I will do my best to honor the family name and uphold my duties."

Leonard gave a curt nod, his gaze still clouded. "Now, go find my daughter. She must be shocked by the uninvited guest."

Bucky nodded and quickly left to find you.

He asked one of the guards outside, "Where is she?"

The guard hesitated, clearly nervous. "She went back to her chambers, sir," he stuttered, quickly correcting himself. "I'm sorry—Your Majesty."

Bucky didn't waste another moment. He hurried down the corridor toward your chambers, the tension from the evening still weighing on him. When he reached your door, he found the room shrouded in darkness. The only light came from the faint glow of the moon filtering through the window.

His eyes fell on you, lying across the bed, already passed out from the alcohol. He sighed heavily, a mix of relief and sorrow flooding him. Today was supposed to be the day both of you had longed for, the day that sealed your love. But it didn't feel that way—not with all the chaos and the looming weight of what had happened.

Walking over quietly, Bucky knelt beside you, brushing a strand of hair from your tear-streaked face. His hand lingered on your cheek, and his heart ached for you. You had endured so much, and now, instead of celebrating together, you were drowning in grief and confusion.

He gently wiped away the remnants of tears. He wanted to protect you from all this, but somehow, it all seemed to follow you both, no matter how hard he tried. Today should have been filled with joy, yet it felt as if the very world had turned its back on the happiness you deserved.

👑👑👑👑

The next morning, you woke with a pounding headache, groaning as the light filtered through the curtains. As you blinked your eyes open, you noticed several servants standing around your bed, their faces full of uncertainty.

"Why are you all surrounding me like this?" you asked, your voice groggy.

"Your Highness," one of the servants said nervously, "today... you're scheduled to leave for your honeymoon?"

You widened your eyes in shock and threw your head back onto the pillow with a frustrated sigh. The last thing you wanted right now was a honeymoon. You felt exhausted—mentally and physically.

"Where is my husband?" you muttered, rubbing your temples to ease the headache.

"With the king," the servant replied.

"Fuck," you murmured under your breath.

Reluctantly, you got out of bed, rubbing the remnants of sleep from your eyes. The servants hurried to help you get ready, brushing your hair, and helping you into a more appropriate outfit for the day. But despite their efforts, you felt sluggish, your mood foul as you tugged on your shoes and stormed out of the room.

You ran through the halls toward the dining room, your steps quick and determined. As you pushed the heavy doors open, you were greeted by the sight of King Leonard and your newlywed husband, Bucky, sitting together at the table. The tension between them was palpable, though Bucky remained composed.

Leonard’s eyes flicked toward you as you entered, his smirk just as arrogant as ever. “Ah, here comes the bride. I trust you slept well?” he asked, his tone dripping with amusement.

You shot him a sharp look. “Not particularly,” you muttered.

Leonard chuckled lightly, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Well, I suppose you’ll have plenty of time to rest on your honeymoon. You’re leaving shortly, after all. I wish you both a safe and pleasant trip.”

Bucky stood up, offering you his arm, his expression neutral though you could feel the tension radiating from him. “Shall we?” he asked quietly.

You hesitated for a moment but then linked your arm with his, glancing up at him. Together, the two of you walked toward the palace doors, with Leonard trailing behind. As expected, a crowd of press and citizens had gathered outside, their cheers and shouts echoing across the courtyard. They were here for the young newlywed couple—their eyes full of admiration and hope for a perfect royal love story.

Though you still felt tired and irritated, you forced a smile, waving at the crowd. Bucky followed suit, his arm still linked with yours as he raised his hand to acknowledge the people.

Once you reached the helicopter, the cheers faded into the background. Bucky slid into his seat, fastening his seatbelt, but he could feel the cold air between you. You had been giving him the silent treatment, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

As you reached for your own seatbelt, it was Leonard who stepped in to assist you. You let him fasten it, though the gesture felt awkward. You looked up at him, narrowing your eyes.

“Stay at peace while I'm gone,” you warned, your tone sharp but laced with exhaustion.

Leonard chuckled, his grin smug. “You never know,” he said, his voice low with hidden meaning.

You glared at him one last time before settling into your seat, the sound of the helicopter’s blades whirring loudly as it prepared for takeoff. Though you were now on your way to what was supposed to be a joyful honeymoon, the weight of everything lingered in the air between you and Bucky.

As the helicopter soared through the sky, the silence between you and Bucky was thick and heavy. He glanced over at you several times, noticing how your eyes were already closed, your head resting against the seat. You looked peaceful, but he knew better. There was a tension beneath that calm exterior—a storm waiting to break.

Bucky’s emotions were all over the place. He had thought this day would be different. After all the time you both had waited, after the struggles and secret glances, this was supposed to be your moment.

But instead, it felt hollow. His chest tightened as he replayed everything that had happened, from the uninvited guest to the strange distance you now put between the two of you. He couldn’t help but feel helpless, unsure of how to bridge the gap that had suddenly grown.

On the other hand, you were drowning in your own thoughts. Behind your closed eyelids, memories of the past day swirled in your mind. Everything felt off. You were supposed to be celebrating your love, but it felt like the world around you was falling apart.

After what felt like hours, the helicopter began its descent, landing softly on a lush green field. You opened your eyes to see the sprawling beauty of the resort that would be your honeymoon destination.

You had hoped for somewhere far away, but Leonard had other plans, citing safety concerns. At least this place was special—a resort with several private islands. It was supposed to be a romantic getaway, secluded from the rest of the world.

The resort’s staff greeted you and Bucky with utmost care, ensuring everything was perfect for the newlywed royal couple. After checking that everything was in place, the managers and employees finally left, leaving the two of you alone on your private island.

The air between you remained tense as Bucky stood near the window, watching you move around the room. The silence was deafening.

“Are you going to continue ignoring me?” Bucky’s voice broke the quiet, his tone low but firm.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you walked over to the bar and grabbed a bottle of rum, searching through the ice bucket. Your hands moved mechanically, trying to find something to numb the unease creeping up your spine.

Suddenly, Bucky grabbed your wrist, stopping you. “Stop it,” he said softly but with authority. His blue eyes searched yours. “I’ll answer it. Whatever you need to know, just ask.”

You paused, the rum bottle slipping from your grasp and landing with a soft thud on the counter. Your chest rose and fell with frustration.

“Fine,” you muttered, turning to face him fully, but the hurt in your eyes was unmistakable.

Bucky exhaled deeply, his grip loosening but not letting go completely. Both of you stood there, a heartbeat away from what could either be a breakthrough or another layer of distance.

Both of you sat across from each other, the tension in the room palpable. Bucky shifted uncomfortably in his seat, running a hand through his hair as he struggled to find the right words. His eyes locked onto yours, determined, but there was also a flicker of doubt. He knew he couldn’t drag this out any longer.

"I started the coup d'état," he finally said, his voice low but steady.

The moment those words left his mouth, it felt like a thunderclap in your ears. Your heart pounded as you processed the confession, your mind racing to catch up with the weight of what he had just said.

"Bucky, what the fuck?" you snapped, disbelief and anger flashing in your eyes.

“I know... I know,” Bucky said quickly, holding his hands up as if to calm the rising storm. "But we—I mean, me and the others—had one goal: to make the king step down. That’s it.”

You let out a frustrated groan, rubbing your temples as if that could somehow ease the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. “Bucky, I love you to death, but what you did was stupid.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “Excuse me?” he shot back, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “I did it for us! And for the victims of that tyrant king!”

You couldn’t deny the truth in his words. The king—your father—had left a trail of victims in his wake. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you recalled the horror that had befallen your family. “The king killed his three older siblings, along with their spouses and children,” you said, your voice trembling. “My cousins... they’re all gone because of him.”

Bucky’s gaze softened, hearing the pain in your voice, but he didn’t speak. He knew the reality of your father’s cruelty, but it was different hearing it from you.

“He was a no one,” you continued, your voice thick with disbelief. “And yet he became the king that everyone fears.” You stared at the ground, the weight of your father’s reign heavy on your shoulders. “He knew his weaknesses, and the people who supported him exploited them.”

"What made me even more furious," you continued, your voice sharp with betrayal, "is that I’m the future queen, yet I had no idea what was happening in my own country. My husband turned out to be the leader of a coup d’état, and my father—the tyrant king—knew it before I did!"

You lifted your head, locking eyes with Bucky, frustration lacing your tone. “I’m your wife, but you left me in the dark!”

Bucky’s eyes widened, his mouth opening to defend himself, but you weren’t finished.

Your words hung in the air like a dark cloud. Bucky looked at you, his expression torn between regret and defiance. You both sat there in a tense silence for a moment, the weight of everything settling between you.

Finally, you sighed, leaning back in your chair as exhaustion overtook your frustration. “I’ve been living in a bubble,” you admitted quietly.

Bucky leaned forward, his voice soft but filled with conviction. “I didn’t want to leave you out of it. I thought... I thought I was protecting you.”

He ran a hand through his hair again, clearly struggling with the gravity of the situation. “I did it for us—for a better future. You know the kind of man your father is. I couldn’t just sit by and let him continue.”

You looked at him, the raw emotion in his eyes matching your own. Despite everything, you knew his intentions had come from a place of love, no matter how misguided they were.

“I get it,” you said, your voice softer now. “I understand why you did what you did. But you should have trusted me, Bucky. I should’ve been part of this.”

Bucky reached out, taking your hands in his. “You’re right,” he said, his voice heavy with regret. “I should’ve told you. I should’ve trusted you.”

You squeezed his hands, feeling some of the tension start to dissolve. “We’re supposed to face things together, not alone,” you said softly.

“I know. And from now on, we will,” Bucky promised, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles.

You both sat there for a moment, the silence no longer oppressive but comforting. You had reached an understanding, even if the road ahead was still uncertain. There was still love between you—love strong enough to survive even this.

As the tension between you and Bucky began to ease, you both found solace in the quiet moments of your honeymoon. Finally, it was just the two of you, no more secrets or unspoken words hanging over your heads. The weight of everything slowly lifted as you immersed yourselves in the beauty of the private island.

The days were filled with a tranquil bliss, the warm sun kissing your skin as you and Bucky strolled along the secluded beaches. The turquoise waves lapped gently at the shore, creating a soothing backdrop to your peaceful escape. You’d often find yourselves on the balcony of your villa, overlooking the ocean, wrapped in each other's arms as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange.

Bucky had his arm around you as you leaned into his chest, both of you quietly enjoying the view. “I wish we could stay like this forever,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

“Me too,” you agreed, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. For the first time in a long while, you felt safe and content, the weight of the past slowly fading into the background.

You and Bucky spent your days exploring the island—swimming in the crystal-clear waters, relaxing in hammocks under the shade of palm trees, and sharing intimate dinners under the stars. His laughter was lighter now, and your smiles were genuine. There was no need to rush; this one month of vacation belonged to the two of you.

At night, Bucky would hold you close as the two of you talked about the future, making plans that seemed so far away now but filled you both with hope. The warmth of his body, the way he kissed your forehead before you both drifted to sleep—it made everything feel right again.

But on the last day of your honeymoon, that peace was shattered.

The morning had started quietly enough. After breakfast, you and Bucky curled up on the couch, flipping through the channels on the TV. As you turned on the news, something caught your attention. The usual cheerful headlines were gone, replaced by the stark seriousness of a breaking news broadcast.

The image of King Leonard, standing behind a podium, filled the screen. The sight of him immediately sent a chill down your spine. You could feel the air shift, the sense of foreboding creeping in.

Leonard stepped closer to the microphone, his expression grim. He paused for a moment, scanning the audience, before leaning in and saying, “We’re going to war.”

Your heart stopped. For a moment, it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

"What the fuck?" you and Bucky blurted out at the same time, both of you staring at the screen in disbelief.

Bucky's face hardened, his hands clenching into fists. "This can't be happening," he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he stood up, pacing in front of the TV.

You swallowed hard, trying to process what you just heard, but dread weighed heavily on your chest. The peaceful bubble of your honeymoon had been shattered, replaced by a terrifying uncertainty. War meant everything would change—and not for the better.

Bucky stopped pacing and looked at you, his eyes filled with concern. “We need to go back.”

You nodded slowly, your mind racing. “I knew something was off,” you murmured, fear creeping into your voice. “But war?”

Neither of you could believe it, yet the reality was there, staring at you from the screen.

The honeymoon was over.

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