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cleo-fox · 1 year ago

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Overtime

Summary: Sometimes, working overtime isn’t all that bad.

Pairings: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+ minors DNI, sex, cunnilingus, teasing, light bondage, office romance.

Series: Overtime (I don't have a masterlist for this, but if you enjoy these idiots, check out Daylight, a sort of sequel).

A/N: This was largely written prior to season 2 and posted right before episode 4, so it’s not entirely canon compliant and the parts that are may be compliant by accident.

Also, @give-me-a-moose and I were on a similar wavelength about Loki angrily reading romance novels and I would strongly recommend checking out her fic The Imagine Nation if you too are enthralled by this idea.

You don’t think that Mobius intended to keep Loki’s desk behind yours.

“It’s temporary,” he tells you apologetically. “He just needs somewhere to go for now, until I figure out what to do with him.”

“You’re talking about him like he’s a stray cat that you found,” you say.

“You won’t even know he’s there, I promise.”

“You’re still doing it.”

Mobius sighs and puts on his most sincere, earnest expression—the one that he always uses when he’s about to ask you for a stupidly massive favor.

And it’s only because you almost never, ever see this look from him that you back down.

“Okay, fine,” you say. “But he’d better be on his best behavior.”

Mobius puts his palms together and tips them toward you. “Thank you. You will not regret this, I promise.”

You sigh and shake your head. “Just remember this next time you’re budgeting for raises.”

But then—in a move that you certainly don’t expect—Loki ends up sticking around. And, in the subtle way that the stray you’ve been feeding slowly turns into your cat, Loki’s temporary desk becomes his permanent desk. And strangely enough, Mobius’ assurances turn out to be more correct than not: Loki does a lot of fieldwork and is often away; when he is at his desk, it tends to be because he is working on more complicated missions, the ones that require poring over mountains of files looking for patterns and trying to untangle the slippery mess of time itself.

Your work is decidedly less glamorous than Loki’s—almost no fieldwork, lots of files. Endless files. Some days you feel as though you must have seen every file in the TVA’s extensive library and then you’re immediately proven wrong by another wing of filing cabinets that you swear wasn’t even there before.

Although he is generally well-behaved as your desk neighbor, Loki’s presence has a way of distracting you. Even if you didn’t know who he was, your gaze would still naturally drift his way, lingering on those regal cheekbones, that ink black hair, that cunning smirk. The way that the fabric of his dress pants clings to his thighs certainly doesn’t help, to say nothing of how his forearms look with his shirtsleeves rolled up. He can make your heart start to race with no more than a casual glance in your direction and god help you if he gives you one of those devastating smiles. Luckily, you don’t think he takes that much notice of you. You have the sort of pleasantly dull exchanges of coworkers who don’t really know each other and he is almost painfully polite to you. It’s a strong departure from the way he interacts with others—with others, he is bold, charming, sarcastic, talkative, a far cry from the more subdued, almost courtly tone he strikes with you. It’s a difference that is so stark that you can’t help but attribute it to some sort of negative feeling on his end.

“How’s it going with Loki?” Mobius asks you during a one-on-one meeting a couple of months after Loki’s temporary desk becomes his permanent desk. “He’s behaving himself, right?”

“It’s been fine,” you say, “though truthfully, I don’t think he likes me all that much.”

“What? Of course he likes you,” Mobius says. “Why wouldn’t he like you? You’re lovely.”

You shrug. “I dunno, he’s just different with me than he is with everyone else. Like…overly polite. It’s like he thinks I’m going to send him to the principal’s office or something.”

“Let me get this straight,” says Mobius. “First you were worried that he wouldn’t behave himself and now you’re worried that he’s too well-behaved?”

Privately, you realize he has a point. Outwardly, though, you’re not going to admit it. The sardonic tilt of Mobius’ mouth suggests that he knows this.

“No, I just…I don’t think he likes me all that much,” you say. “And he’s entitled to that. People don’t like each other all the time, it’s not a big deal.”

This is also a little bit of a lie—you do wish he liked you. Loki is so magnetic it’s hard not to want his attention. And with the matter of your silly little crush, well…that doesn’t help either.

Mobius sighs. “I think you’re overthinking this. He likes you, sometimes it just takes him a little time to warm up. He’s a bit of a prickly guy.”

You bite down the urge to point out that you’ve seen him warm to other people almost immediately. This conversation has already gone on longer than you want and you are edging dangerously close to having to admit that you care so much because you have a big stupid crush on him, which is obviously unacceptable.

“Well, the point is that it’s fine,” you say quickly, trying to project an aura of cool confidence. “I don’t have any complaints, he seems like he’s settling in, so let’s move on. Did you have any feedback on my recent report?”

The furrow between Mobius’ eyebrows deepens just slightly, the only indication that he doesn’t fully believe you. But for whatever reason, he decides to let it go and follows your change in topic without further comment.

This is one of the reasons you like Mobius as much as you do: he always seems to know the right moment to push and the right moment to bend.

You’re not sure if your relationship with Loki would have changed had it not been for the problem of Charles Berlitz.

The joke around the office is that after Mobius convinced Loki to work for the TVA, he needed something new to obsess over and Charles Berlitz was the next best option. It’s hard to say exactly who Berlitz is, as he has a tendency of showing up, well…everywhere. He is quite literally in every timeline, at least as far as anyone can tell. Sometimes he is an author, penning serious, scholarly essays on outlandish theories like the Bermuda Triangle and the Philadelphia Experiment. He seems to have a fondness for all manner of schemes—he was responsible for introducing both homeopathy and multi-level marketing to no fewer than sixty different timelines. His ability to peddle bullshit naturally led him to politics—pick any rebellion, coup, or campaign on any given timeline and there’s a good chance you’ll also find Charles Berlitz.

Scammers and con artists are not atypical in your line of work, but what makes Charles Berlitz an enduring mystery is that he has never been found. You can have reputable documentary evidence that Berlitz was present at a certain time and location, but if you show up to investigate, he is never there. There have been some glimpses over the years—a shadowy face in the back of a crowd, the hem of a cloak disappearing behind a corner—but nothing concrete or substantive.

“Our ghost in the timeline,” Mobius had said in one of his more poetic moments at an all staff meeting, his voice overly hushed and dramatic. You had seen Loki roll his eyes and you had to fake a coughing fit to hide your laugh.

Time moves differently at the TVA, so it’s hard to say how long Mobius has been working on this case when he makes a breakthrough, but it’s not terribly long after your conversation about Loki. A campaign button had been found in an apartment that Berlitz rented for two years in the French Quarter. That particular campaign button could only have existed in one specific timeline and its distribution was limited. You aren’t entirely clear on all of the details, but Mobius seems to have a plan.

And unfortunately, that plan involves you giving up most of your weekend to work.

It’s near quitting time on what passes for a Friday at the TVA. Loki has been in today and you can hear him starting to pack up. Technically, he’s got twenty minutes of work left, but you’re not about to tell him that.

You doodle absently on your notepad. Technically, you’ve also got twenty minutes of work left, but realistically: nothing is happening.

“Oh, great, you’re both still here.”

In general, this phrase has never meant good news for you and when you look up, you see Mobius with a sizable armful of files.

Also not a great sign.

Mobius plunks the stack of files directly on your desk. “There’s been a development with Berlitz. I need you both to review these now.”

“It’s Friday,” says Loki, affronted. “Surely it can wait until Monday.”

“No can do. I need this done by Sunday at the latest,” says Mobius. “This is an all hands on deck situation.”

Loki glances pointedly at the office around you, which has already started emptying out for the weekend.

“All hands on deck, but most hands are already in the field,” Mobius concedes. “Which is why I need the two of you—” He points to you. “You because you’re good—” He gestures to Loki. “And you because you’ve got desk duty.”

“I beg your pardon—” begins Loki.

“He’s grounded,” Mobius says to you in an exaggerated stage whisper.

This is not surprising to you: you had heard a rumor last week about an incident that had occurred on a mission to the inauguration of Richard Nixon and you suspect that these two events are likely connected.

You look at the pile of paperwork on your desk. You could probably get through it on your own in a couple of hours, but if Loki’s helping, maybe you still have a shot at having Saturday to yourself. You bite back a sigh. “What do you need me to find?”

“Anything that mentions anyone from the Lucchese crime family or Nero Variant N2815,” says Mobius. “I’ll go get the rest.”

Your heart sinks. Farewell, Saturday. “There’s more?” you say.

“It’ll be triple overtime, I already got it approved!” he calls over his shoulder

You sigh and glance at Loki who is scowling at the pile of files as though they’d wronged him personally.

There’s a long moment of silence before you speak. “Is there any truth to the rumor I’ve been hearing about the Nixon inauguration?” you ask.

“If it involved a hot air balloon, then yes,” he says rather tonelessly.

“Well.” You pause as you stare at the pile of papers. “At least it was worth it.”

That at least earns you a hint of a smile.

Several hours later, your stomach is growling and you’ve developed a rather impressive crick in your neck.

You lean back in your chair, stretching your neck to the side and rubbing the knot that is pulsing in your upper trapezius. Office work has done nothing positive for your posture in general, but tonight’s work has you hunched over more than usual and your neck is aching.

You and Loki have made good progress, but your pile of finished and sorted files is scarcely comparable to the full cart that Mobius had brought in. Back when the evening was new and you weren’t quite so tired, you’d been optimistic about possibly having half a Saturday free from work; that hope has slipped away the longer the evening has dragged on. Now you’re hoping that you’ll still have a bit of Sunday to yourself and even that feels unlikely.

Your stomach growls again. You should probably eat something—you’d worked through your regular dinner hour in a fit of misplaced optimism. The cafeteria is closed this time of night, but there’s a vending machine not far from your office that has shitty coffee and mostly edible sandwiches.

You stand and stretch, stifling a yawn as you turn around. “I’m gonna grab a coffee and some dinner,” you say. “Do you want anything?”

Loki looks up at you from the file in front of him, blinking somewhat dazedly and running a hand through his messy curls. “I’d like to stretch my legs a bit, if you don’t mind the company.”

You honestly didn’t expect him to want to join you. It’s a pleasant surprise, certainly, but also a little nerve wracking in the way that interacting with Loki always is. He’s so handsome and aloof and you’re not quite sure how to talk to him without acting like a total fool.

But you’re also not about to say no, either.

“Of course,” you say, “I don’t mind at all.”

The TVA is unusually quiet at this time of night—the steady hum of fluorescent lights and the murmur of distant voices is all that accompanies the tap of your shoes on the linoleum. It only heightens the jittery, nervous feeling you get from Loki—like your stomach is filled with drunk, lightning struck butterflies.

“Are you finding much?” asks Loki as you enter the hallway together.

You shrug. “A bit. Mostly on the Nero variant. I’m not having as much luck with the Luccheses.”

“I’ve got all of their property transfers, I think,” he says. “Renato Lucchese never met a vineyard he didn’t like.”

“Or racehorses, from what I understand,” you say. “I think that’s how he lost most of his money.”

You arrive at the vending machines. Loki looks at the vending machines and then back at you, a somewhat puzzled and troubled expression on his face.

“This is what you meant when you said you were going to get coffee and dinner?” he says.

You shrug. “Yeah, what’s wrong with this?”

He points at the coffee machine. “Mobius calls that machine Satan’s coffeemaker, does he not?”

“Yes, but I know how to trick it into giving me something that’s almost palatable,” you say.

Loki gives you a rather dry look. “Something that’s almost palatable?”

“I mean, I’m just trying to manage your expectations. It’s still pretty shitty coffee, it just tastes less burned.”

He looks at you for a long moment before tilting his head toward the hallway. “Come on, let’s go.”

It’s your turn to look skeptical. “What are we doing?”

“We’re going out for dinner.”

He takes you to a twenty-four hour diner called Frank’s that’s maybe a five minute walk from the TVA. It’s one of those places with yellowing Formica tables and big booths covered in red faux leather patched with the occasional square of duct tape. It smells like coffee and grease with a faint odor of cigarette smoke despite the prominent no smoking signs.

“I wouldn’t have thought this kind of place was your style,” you say as you sit down in a booth next to the window.

“I’ve expanded my horizons,” he says, sliding into the seat across from you.

An older woman with greying blonde hair approaches your booth. She wears a nametag reading “Connie” in big capital letters, a sticker of a pink cat stuck on the space next to her name.

“How y’all doin’ tonight?” she says as she hands you each a laminated menu. She looks at Loki. “You want your usual?”

“Please,” he says.

“You got it.” She turns to you. “How ‘bout you, hon, can I get ya started with something to drink?”

“Coffee would be great.”

“All right, I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

You raise your eyebrows at Loki as she walks away. “You eat at diners and you have a usual order. My expectations are being completely upended.”

He returns your pleasantly amused expression. “And you have vending machine coffee for dinner. It’s a revealing night.”

“I mean, I don’t actively seek it out,” you say. “It’s a convenient option that I exercise only when I have no other choice.”

“No other choice?” A sly smile curls at his lips. “Do you not have the entire array of space and time at your fingertips?”

“Well, first of all, we aren’t supposed to use TemPads for personal errands without a supervisor’s approval.”

“Technically.”

“No, actually. It’s in the personnel manual. Like verbatim.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You would put yourself through the egregious physical suffering of vending machine coffee simply to appease the capricious whims of our cruel overseer Miss Minutes?”

You bite back a laugh. “You know she’s not actually our boss, right?”

“I can’t discount that possibility. She wields a concerning amount of power within the organization.”

Connie is back with your drinks—coffee for you and tea for Loki. “Sunday Special?” she asks Loki as she sets a metal teapot and empty mug in front of him.

“Please,” he says.

“You got it.” She looks at you. “Didya get a chance to look at the menu or do you need a minute?”

You’re feeling a little daring. “I’ll try the Sunday Special as well.”

“All right, two Sunday Specials comin’ right up,” she says, collecting your menus.

“So, what’s in a Sunday Special?” you ask Loki as you take a sip of your coffee.

“Boiled fish eggs, mainly,” he says, pouring the hot water into his tea mug.

“Liar,” you say promptly.

He raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t even look at the menu, how could you know?”

“Places like this don’t serve fish eggs,” you say. “Way too unusual and definitely the wrong price point.”

“I suppose you’ll just have to see,” he says with a playful glint in his eyes. The easy charm that you’ve seen him use with the others is on full display and it’s enough to make you giddy. Maybe he doesn’t dislike you after all.

“Well, if it’s fish eggs, you’re picking up the bill,” you say, “and I’ll be getting something else instead.”

“You’d really hold me responsible for your impulsive dinner selections?”

“Yep. And I don’t even feel bad about it.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you could be so unforgiving.”

“Well, you don’t know me all that well.”

“To be fair, you keep to yourself quite a bit.”

“A little bit,” you say. “But also to be fair, you haven’t really asked.”

“On work time?” he says, widening his eyes in mock horror. “That would mean write ups for both of us, I couldn’t let that happen.”

“I think I know enough about you to know that getting in trouble is not one of your primary concerns.”

He gives you a sly smile, like you’ve caught him out and he likes it. “That’s a diplomatic way to put it.” He takes a sugar packet from the dispenser on the table and tears it open before pouring it into his mug. “Well, we’re on break now, so you can safely tell me something about yourself.”

You drum your fingers on your coffee mug. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, this can’t be the only part of your life. Who are you outside the TVA? What did you do before this?”

That giddy feeling comes to a screeching halt and you take in a long, slow breath. It’s a simple question, one that most people can answer to some degree. For you, though, it’s a bit more complicated.

“Well,” you say. You take a sip of your coffee, mostly to give your hands something to do. “I don’t actually know—I chose not to remember when they gave me the option.”

You’re surprised by how gentle his eyes are when you look up. “My apologies,” he says, “I didn’t realize.”

“It’s okay,” you say and you really do mean it. “You couldn’t have known.”

Usually, you say something like this and then gently redirect the conversation, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes you want to continue. Like maybe he understands difficult things and doesn’t mind hearing about something that others would shy away from.

“When they told us everything and said they could fix our memories…” You clear your throat and focus your gaze just above his shoulder. “It’s weird, but I just had a feeling that it wouldn’t be good for me to know…that something really bad had happened. So I asked Mobius to check for me, just to be sure…” You swallow, blinking hard.

You remember how sad Mobius’ eyes were, how he’d gently placed a hand on your shoulder and said, “I think you’re making the right call, kid.”

“It’s not really okay, is it?” Loki says softly.

You shrug. “I mean, it’s…it is what it is.”

“You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

“It’s not a lie—”

He raises a skeptical eyebrow and you remember that he is, in fact, the god of lies.

“It’s more like…I can’t really miss what I don’t know, but at the same time, the reality of that absence hurts a little. So maybe not exactly okay, but not exactly not okay, either.”

There’s a lot of kindness in his gaze and you have to look away because it makes your head spin and your breath catch in your throat. “I’m not really sure if that makes sense,” you say.

“It does.”

There’s a silence between you, but it’s not uncomfortable.

“Do you…do you think you’d want to forget if you had that option?” You’re not entirely sure what prompts the question and you regret it almost as soon as it leaves your mouth. “I’m sorry, that’s probably too personal.”

He shakes his head and there’s a warmth in his eyes that you don’t expect. “I rather think I owe you one.” He pauses, running a finger around the rim of his mug. “Sometimes I do,” he says finally. “It can be quite painful remembering.” He worries his lip between his teeth. “But I’m not sure who I would be without the knowledge of my past, either.” His gaze flicks back to you. “What’s it like for you? Do you feel like you know who you are without those memories?”

It’s a good question—one you’ve never been asked. “I mean, it’s hard to say for sure. I think I do,” you say. “Sometimes I wonder if I was different in my timeline. Maybe I was kinder because I had different experiences that made me more empathetic. Maybe I wasn’t—maybe I was worse. Maybe I had a villain arc.”

He chuckles. “That doesn’t seem likely.”

“I dunno, maybe it explains the vending machine coffee and my fish egg related threats,” you say and you feel almost giddy when he returns your smile. “Or maybe I’m the same and all those experiences that shaped me are just scars I can’t see.” You shrug and take a sip of your coffee. “At the end of the day, though, that timeline is gone. I’m all that’s left. It’s sad, but it’s also freeing, in a way.”

He nods. “Mobius has said much the same.”

You smile slightly. “Our philosophies are similar, I suppose, though I think there are probably more bits of his past self in his present self than he realizes.”

Loki grins. “It’s the jet skis, isn’t it?”

“I mean, I just don’t think most normal people spend that much time expounding on the reliability of the Yamaha engine versus the pure, raw power of the Kawasaki.”

Loki holds up a finger. “But have you gotten the lecture about Yamaha’s braking system?”

“I think I have that memorized at this point.”

“‘The perfect choice for families.’”

“‘You just tap the brakes. Just tap them. Perfectly smooth stop every time.’”

“‘Reliability meets affordability.’”

“‘You can’t say no to that.’”

You think you probably could have riffed on this for a bit, but you’re interrupted by the arrival of Connie with your dinner.

The Sunday Special turns out to be a fairly traditional breakfast—eggs, hash browns, two fluffy pancakes, sausage, toast, a little bowl of strawberries.

“Definitely lots of fish eggs in this meal,” you say to Loki after Connie leaves.

His smile is small, but genuine. “You haven’t looked under the pancakes yet.”

You feel it then, but you don’t fully understand until later that this dinner has unlocked something important between the two of you. After months of awkward, stilted conversation, it’s like you finally understand how to talk to each other. And you’re surprised to find that even outside of your big stupid crush, you actually like Loki. You like his sly smiles and his dry humor and how easily the two of you fall into a routine of playful banter. You click in a way that surprises you, in a way that makes you mourn the lost potential of all those awkward, stilted months and feel giddy about the possibilities ahead.

Dinner is over too soon and you walk back to the TVA feeling revived from the coffee and the conversation.

Disaster awaits you back at the office, though: you’d left a stack of the Nero variant files on your desk and evidently the construction was too precarious, as the entire pile had tipped off your desk and spilled to the floor, contents scattered everywhere.

“Fucking hell,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair. You’re not sure whether you want to laugh, cry, or scream. Possibly, it’s all three.

“Here.” Loki is bending down on the floor to gather the files. You studiously try to not ogle his ass or thighs. Or at least not obviously. “Clear off some space on your desk—I’ll help.”

Twenty minutes later, you’ve set up an entirely new system—Loki has dragged his chair over to your desk and the cart of unsorted files sits between you, like a surly metallic chaperone. And even later when you’ve sorted out all of the files from the floor, he remains parked at the end of your desk, a stack of new, unsorted files in front of him. Admittedly, it’s a lot more efficient for you to work like this: privately, though, it gives you a warm glow that has nothing to do with workplace efficiency.

“I’ve invented a new game,” he says some time later.

“What’s that?”

“Every time either one of us finds documentation showing Renato Lucchese losing money on a racehorse he was told was not a good investment, I get to have a drink.”

You look up at him. “Look, I know you’re a god and everything, but I am pretty sure that will kill you.”

He sighs and tosses the file into the Lucchese pile. “I think it would add a little excitement to the evening, don’t you?”

You raise your eyebrows and look back at the file in front of you. “You mean this isn’t your idea of a fun Friday night?”

“My idea of a fun Friday night includes far fewer files and a lot more debauchery,” he says, taking a new file from the cart.

You glance at the clock. “Well, it’s only eleven. I don’t usually start body shots until after midnight.”

“What are body shots?”

For one horrifying moment, you think that you’re going to actually have to explain this to him, but then you get a good look at his expression.

He’s teasing you.

“You’re an ass,” you say, swatting him on the shoulder with the file you’re holding.

He wags a finger at you. “That’s workplace violence. I’m going to have to report that.”

You lean back in your chair and return to your file. “I’m pretty confident that you’ll be put off by the amount of paperwork that process requires.”

He shakes his head as he returns to his own file. “Uncontrolled bureaucracy is how bad actors escape accountability.” There’s a brief pause. “And…there’s another racehorse.”

You continue on like this for the rest of the evening, occasionally chatting and Loki proving definitively that the Renato Lucchese racehorse drinking game could not be played without resulting in a fatality. It’s nice, though. Yes, it’s sorting files and yes, it’s not the most intellectually riveting task you’ve ever done, but spending time with Loki is nice. It’s because of this that you find yourself trying to stay awake, pushing past your looming exhaustion.

But around two, you can’t quite fight the heaviness of your eyelids any longer and you doze off in the middle of a report on the sinking of the Lusitania.

“Hey.” Loki is gently shaking your shoulder. The way he says your name in that deliciously deep voice makes you want to swoon and you’re glad that you have the ready made excuse of sleepiness to explain any embarrassing behavior on your end.

“I think you’d better call it a night,” he says gently. “Get some sleep and come back with fresh eyes.”

“What about you?” you say. “Are you going to do the same, or are you just all talk?”

He smiles at you and it warms you to the very tips of your toes. You could bask in that smile like a cat in a sunbeam.

“I’m starting to fade a bit myself,” he says

“Very convenient,” you say and he grins at you.

“Come on, I’ll see you back home.”

Part of you wants to protest—there’s really no need for him to walk you home—but a larger, louder part of you wants to let it be, prolong the magic of tonight for just a little longer.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you as you walk out of the office together.

“What time do you think you’re going to come in tomorrow?” he asks as you approach the residential wing. “It’s probably sensible to coordinate our efforts a bit.”

“Yeah, that’s a good point,” you say. “I was thinking nine, but that will be dependent on how much coffee I have.”

“Yes, about that,” he says. “I cannot stand idly by and watch you torture yourself with vending machine coffee.”

“Well, the cafeteria will be open, so I was going to torture myself with cafeteria coffee, which is at least thirty percent less over brewed.”

He clicks his tongue. “You’re not making a compelling case for yourself.”

“To be fair, it’s quite late and I’ve been staring at files for hours.”

“All the more reason to get decent coffee,” he says. “We’re going out for breakfast.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, we are?”

“Consider it an intervention,” he says. “I’ll come collect you at eight.”

You’re not quite sure if this is just his natural confidence and swagger coming through or if he’s flirting with you and this counts as a date.

“Where are we going?”

“I know a place.”

The place in question turns out to be a food cart in Central Park in 1998.

“Should I even bother asking if you have supervisor approval for this?” you say, looking skeptically at the time door glimmering before you.

Loki scoffs. “I don’t have a supervisor.”

“You do. It’s Mobius.”

“That can’t be right, we’re peers.”

“You’re absolutely not. Did you read any of the onboarding materials?”

He ignores your question. “I don’t see why I’d even need a supervisor, honestly.”

You snort. “Need I remind you of what happened at the Nixon inauguration?”

He spreads his hands in front of him. “It’s not my fault that I’m the only one with a sense of humor.”

“I’m not entirely sure that was the problem,” you say. “Gerald Ford is never going to be the same, from what I understand.”

Loki waves a dismissive hand. “He’ll be fine, the tail isn’t permanent. Now, are you coming or not?”

You roll your eyes at him and make a halfhearted complaint about proper protocol, but you know that you’re walking through that time door and not looking back. You knew that before he even posed the question.

The food cart is owned by a man named Samir who has a wide smile and booming laugh. He talks to Loki like he’s a friend and he tells you that you have the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen. You are fairly certain he’s exaggerating, but you stuff a few extra bills into the tip jar anyway.

“I can’t believe you fell for that,” says Loki as you walk away, each carrying a coffee and a brown paper bag with a breakfast sandwich.

“Fell for what?” you say, batting your eyes at him. “I do have beautiful eyes.”

“I’ve heard him say that on at least thirty separate occasions.”

“Yeah, but this time he really meant it. I could tell.”

He rolls his eyes and leads you to a park bench overlooking a wide, grassy field. The leaves are just starting to change and the air has a little bit of a bite to it.

You sit down on the bench and take a sip of your coffee.

“It is good coffee, I’ll give you that,” you say.

“See,” says Loki, “you can’t go back to that vending machine sludge after this.”

“I mean, if it’s eleven o’clock at night and I’m on a deadline, I can.”

“Darling. You have a TemPad.”

“Loki. Read the personnel manual.”

He wrinkles his nose. “It’s not really my genre.”

You roll your eyes and take out your breakfast sandwich. “What is your genre?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that a serious question?”

“Of course it is,” you say. “I love talking about books.”

He gives you a slight smile and takes a sip of his coffee. “A little bit of everything, honestly,” he says. “Philosophy. Magical theory. History. Politics. Anything from Asgard, really, though it can be a bit more challenging getting some of those titles.”

“I’ve had pretty good luck with the Library of the Sacred Timeline—have you checked there yet?”

He frowns. “I’m not familiar.”

“Oh, you’d like it—it’s on the eighteenth floor. It’s intended to be a collection of the greatest works of literature from as many branches of the timeline as possible,” you say. “It started as a research project, but people liked it and it just kind of evolved into this huge collection. They’ve actually got a pretty sizeable collection of books from Asgard.”

It’s like you’ve told him that his personal paradise had been located on the eighteenth floor this entire time. “Will you show me?”

He is practically vibrating with the sort of anticipatory, manic energy that you typically would associate with Christmas morning right before you tear into presents. It’s sweetly endearing.

“Of course.”

Ten minutes later, you’re leading him through the winding hallways on the eighteenth floor. You’re not surprised he hasn’t heard about the library—it’s a bit out of the way and the eighteenth floor is so poorly designed that it’s not terribly easy to find.

The design of the library is a sharp departure from the rest of the TVA. The shelves and floors are made of the kind of dark mahogany that you typically see in the kind of estates that look like something directly out of a Jane Austen novel. Worn oriental rugs muffle your footsteps on the creaky wood floors and the air smells faintly of dust and paper.

There’s a subtle change in Loki when you walk through the doors—almost like a muscle in his shoulders finally relaxes and he seems truly at home for the first time since he arrived.

You touch his hand. “This way.”

You lead him into the stacks, back to the far corner, right after the books from Alfheim.

“You can borrow whichever ones you like,” you say softly. “There’s a sign out sheet at the front desk.”

He nods, though you don’t think he really hears you—he only has eyes for the shelves, his gaze sweeping across the spines like they’re old friends. You’re about to excuse yourself to give him a little privacy when his brow furrows and he exhales sharply. “Oh, you can’t be serious.”

“What is it?”

They have the entirety of the finest Asgardian literature at their disposal. Untold centuries of the writings of our greatest minds—” he plucks a book off the shelf, “—and they choose to include this?”

The title looks fairly innocuous—a red, leather bound book with the title The Cloistered Heart embossed in gold script on the front. You take the book from him and open it. “What’s the problem with this?”

“It’s inconsequential fluff, literary pablum of the highest order.”

This is the Loki that you’re more familiar with and a smile curls at your lips. Almost on cue, you flip the book open to a chapter titled “The Wedding and Bedding of Aloisa.”

You bite back a laugh and look up at him. “It’s a romance novel.”

“Precisely my point,” he says. “To think that this is on the same shelf as Nielsen and Auber.”

“That’s kind of how libraries work,” you say, flipping further into the book. The phrases “throbbing length” and “eager moans” draw your eye and you have to tamp down another laugh. “Oh, and it’s a sexy romance novel.”

“It appeals to the lowest common denominator, yes.”

“What, so you’re too good for a bodice ripper?”

He scoffs. “I prefer to do the bodice ripping myself, not read some overwrought description of it.”

You are glad you’re looking at the book because you’re pretty sure you’d disintegrate if you had to make eye contact with him while he delivered that line. “Oh spare me,” you say lightly, snapping the book shut and drawing it to your chest. “I’m gonna read this.”

He blows out a puff of air. “It’s a waste of your time.”

“I’ve got lots of time, I can afford to waste it,” you say cheekily. “Besides, I’m curious to see what kind of book turns the god of mischief into a pearl clutching prude.”

Loki sputters. “Prude? Darling, let me assure you, I’m no prude—”

“I’ll leave you to browse,” you say with a grin as you turn away from him. “Come find me at the front when you’re ready to go.”

You’re a few chapters into the book when Loki rejoins you at the front of the library, a small stack of books tucked under his arm.

You close your book with a snap. “This book is a delight. I think your real issue is just that you’re no fun.”

He scoffs. “I’m very fun.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You bicker playfully back and forth as you check out your books and leave the library. A quick glance at your watch tells you that you spent much more time there than you’d planned. You can’t quite bring yourself to worry about that, though, not with the memory of Loki’s wonderstruck expression burning so bright in your mind.

There’s a bit of a lull in the conversation as you wait for the elevator.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

“For what?”

“For showing me that.”

“Of course. I’m sorry you didn’t know about it sooner.”

He looks at you, lips parting slightly like he’s about to say something. His tongue swipes briefly over his bottom lip and you would swear that his gaze drops to your mouth for just a second.

For just a second—one heady, slightly irrational second—you think he might be about to kiss you.

The ding of the elevator arriving breaks the spell, startling you just a little. You run a hand through your hair, trying to give off the impression of composure even as your heart beats wildly in your chest.

Loki gestures to the elevator doors. “After you.”

There is a group of analysts in the elevator already, chatting animatedly and completely obliterating any chance you may have had at recapturing that moment.

You try not to dwell too much in contemplating what ifs or timeline branches—often, it feels too much like work, something Mobius might assign you.

But you know that the possibility of that moment—what if the elevator had been a hair slower, what if those analysts had taken a different route, what if you were braver—you know that’s something that’s going to haunt you for a while.

You wouldn’t give up that time in the library for anything—it’s one of those moments that feels formative, something that you’ll return to again and again for one reason or another.

But it’s also true that it’s time that you probably could have used for sorting files and as Saturday ticks on, you can’t help but wish you had a way to pull another hour out of somewhere.

“We’re not going to be able to make this deadline, are we?” you say with a sigh.

It’s getting late into the evening and the cart of files still to be sorted still remains depressingly full, despite the fact that you’d brought both lunch and dinner back to your desk so you could continue working.

Loki eyes the remaining files. “I think we might. We made good progress today.”

You rub your eyes. “My brain feels like it’s about to leak out my ears.”

Loki takes the file you are working on and sets it back in the stack of unsorted files. “I think that might be a sign it’s time to turn in,” he says.

“There’s still so much left.”

“There’s still tomorrow.”

You reach for the file. “Well, let me just—”

He pulls your hand away from the pile. “You can come back to it in the morning. Besides, if you’re this tired, you’re not going to do good work anyway.”

He squeezes your hand and drops it. It’s brief enough to still be friendly, but unusual enough to make you wonder and send your mind racing back to that moment by the elevator.

You shake the thought away. It’s late and you’re tired.

You heave a world weary sigh and slump back in your chair. “I hate it when you’re right.”

To his credit, he only smirks a little. “Come on. I’ll walk you back.”

Once again, there’s no reason for him to do this, but once again, you’re inclined to let him.

You pack up for the evening and walk out of the office side by side. You’re trying very hard not to think about the fact that this is likely the last night that you’ll do this, that tomorrow the assignment will be over.

As you near the residential wing, you start to hear distant shouts. If you inhale deeply, you catch a very faint whiff of explosives—you’re not sure what kind.

“I think someone brought work home,” you say with a sigh.

This happens from time to time—things get out of hand in the field or something happens when retrieving an asset or a target and all hell breaks loose at the TVA. Mobius had once referred to it as “bringing work home” and the name had stuck.

“Wasn’t there an incident in this wing not long ago?” asks Loki.

“Yes.” You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I had to call off the next day—I got no sleep that night.” You listen carefully, trying to determine the source of the noise and the status of the problem. “But maybe it’s almost over,” you say with an optimism you don’t fully feel. “Sometimes these things are resolved really quick.”

Your heart continues to sink the closer you come to your home. The acrid burn of explosives only increases and you think you catch the low, dull roar of something not quite human.

And indeed, when you turn the final corner, you are immediately stopped by an electric blue barrier being monitored by a hunter. G-21–you’ve worked with her on a couple of missions before.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” slips out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“There’s an ongoing incident in this area,” says G-21 and you almost want to laugh because no shit.

“How long do you think it’s gonna be closed off?” you ask.

She shrugs. “We’re at a code 54 right now, but it’s probably gonna escalate.”

With pitch perfect timing and before you can even try to remember what a code 54 means, there’s an almighty crash and a low bellow.

“Go!” she yells before running toward the commotion amid frantic calls for backup.

Loki is grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a run.

Your standard issue work shoes are comfortable enough on a day to day basis, but you certainly want to have words with whoever decided that leather soled shoes with absolutely no grips were a good choice for a building floored almost entirely in linoleum. In a low stakes situation, it’s meant occasionally you wipe out in the cafeteria and hurt nothing but your pride. In this situation, it means that Loki’s firm grip on your hand is the only thing keeping you upright.

But there’s a small mercy in that while you can still hear distant crashes and shrieks, whatever is happening down that hallway doesn’t seem to be following you and eventually, you both slow to a brisk walk and Loki drops your hand.

You haven’t even had a chance to consider where you are going to sleep tonight. You could probably curl up on that terrible couch in the office and just plan on getting up early enough to run back to your place for a quick shower and a change of clothes…assuming the incident resolves by then—

“You can stay with me,” says Loki, as though he can hear you trying to sort this out.

“Oh, that’s okay, I’ll just—”

“If you say you’re going to sleep on that terrible couch in the office, I will personally take you to the most boring governmental proceeding I can find and leave you there until you come to your senses.”

“Sounds like a great place to fall asleep,” you say.

His eyes glint, but his tone brooks no arguments. “You’re staying with me tonight.”

You sigh, but you can’t think of a counterpoint. “When did you get so bossy?”

“Darling, I’m a prince,” he says with a bit of a wry smirk. “It’s my birthright.”

Loki lives on the opposite end of the residential wing and his place looks quite a bit like yours—he’s got an extra window in the kitchen but the floor plan is otherwise the same. A lot of his furniture is standard issue, but there are little details that make it seem more personal: an area rug with a bit of fraying on the edges, a painting of what you think is an Asgardian landscape, a vase filled with dried flowers so delicate they look like they might disintegrate if you were to touch them. And books—so many books. Books on shelves, stacked on the coffee table, tucked into the little rack that you know is meant to hold magazines. Hardbacks, paperbacks, leather bound, dog-eared, well-worn and brand new. It’s no wonder he was so excited about the library.

“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the couch. “I’ll get some things for you.”

You sit down and he disappears down the hall. You idly examine the books stacked on the end table next to you. Many are quite clearly from Asgard and it sparks a pang of sympathy—it’s like his homesickness is on full display in his living room and there’s something sweet and sad about seeing that vulnerability laid so bare.

He returns a few minutes later with a pair of pajamas, a toothbrush, and a hand towel.

“Here,” he says, handing you the pile. “Bathroom’s just down the hall. I’ll make up a bed for you.”

“Thanks.”

In the bathroom, you realize that the pajamas he’s given you aren’t the standard set you can order from the TVA. These are made of a dark emerald silk that ripples over your skin like water, and somehow, that makes it feel a thousand times more personal than if he’d loaned you a standard set. They don’t fit quite right on you, but they’ll work well enough for tonight.

You brush your teeth and attempt to get through as much of your evening routine as you can before collecting your clothes and exiting the bathroom.

When you return to the living room, you expect to find that he’s made up a bed for you on the couch. These living units only have one bedroom—it would be quite reasonable to have you sleep on the couch.

You do not expect to find a pajama clad Loki stretched out reading on the couch, a blanket over his lap and his head propped up on a pillow like he intends to sleep there.

You exhale slowly. “Please tell me you are not giving up your bed.”

“Don’t be absurd, of course I am,” he says without even looking up from his book. “The point of this was to prevent you from sleeping on a couch, not simply put you on a couch in a different location.”

You wish you had something to throw at him. “You don’t even fit on that couch.”

“Luckily, my knees bend. Besides, you’re a guest,” he says, as though that settles it.

You roll your eyes and plunk yourself down in the armchair across from the couch, setting your pile of clothes on the floor. “I’m not moving until you give up the couch.”

He finally looks up from his book. “You’re really going to do this?”

You examine your fingernails, flicking away an invisible speck of dust. “I’m not the one being unreasonable. I’m simply meeting you at your level.”

“If you think that I’m being unreasonable and you’re also saying you’re meeting me at my level, does that not mean you are admitting that you are being unreasonable?”

“It’s nearly one o’clock in the morning. I’m not arguing semantics with you.”

“Fine.” His eyes glimmer as he sets his book down and slowly rises to his feet. “But you’re still not sleeping on the couch.”

“Oh, you’re going to be so disappointed when you realize how wrong you are,” you say. You think you see your opening and you try to play it cool.

He’s walking toward you, leaving your path to the couch wide open. In your head, you can see exactly how this works: you’ll spring from your chair and dart around the coffee table before diving onto the couch like a baseball player sliding into home plate, soundly defeating Loki. Easy peasy.

Instead, what happens is that you spring to your feet and Loki moves with inhuman speed, grabbing you around your waist and pinning you to the front of his chest, stopping you in your tracks almost immediately.

“I suppose I should have expected that,” he says. Your back is facing him, but you can almost hear the dry, sardonic look he’s giving you.

“Probably,” you say. “God of mischief and all.” You struggle fruitlessly against his iron grip. “You can let me go now.”

He laughs. “I’m afraid I can’t. It was clearly a mistake to trust you. I won’t be making that error again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, trying again to squirm away from him. “Let me go.”

“The interesting thing about all of this is that you’ve made a rather substantial tactical error,” he says, continuing as though he can’t hear you.

“You’re bluffing,” you say with more confidence than you feel.

“Fascinating theory,” he says, “but I don’t think it’s going to work out for you.”

With that same ridiculous speed, he’s suddenly spinning you around and lifting you, tossing you easily over his shoulder.

“Hey!” you shout in protest.

“I warned you,” he says, his voice full of mirth as he carries you toward the bedroom.

This is not exactly how you’ve imagined being carried off to bed by Loki.

Though, admittedly, you do have a nice view of his ass.

“This is ridiculous,” you say.

“You brought this upon yourself.” He’s walking into the bedroom and a moment later, he’s lifting you from his shoulder and tossing you unceremoniously onto his bed.

You scramble to your feet and try to lunge toward the door, but he’s clearly expecting that. Before your feet even hit the floor, he catches you around the waist and hauls you back to the bed. Your back hits the mattress and you try to leverage the momentum to propel yourself back onto your feet.

He catches you immediately and you find yourself back on the bed again.

“I don’t mean to be patronizing,” he says, failing to bite back a laugh, “but it’s adorable that you think you can outmaneuver me.”

That is deeply offensive and the only way you can earn my forgiveness is by letting me take my rightful place on the couch.” You can’t quite keep the laugh from your voice.

He grins. “Not a chance.”

You attempt to dive off the opposite side of the bed, only to have him grab you by the ankles and pull you back. You manage to dislodge him and lunge in the opposite direction, only to be immediately thwarted.

It becomes increasingly hilarious the longer it goes on and soon your sides are aching from laughter. Loki is laughing too, but it doesn’t seem to affect his strength or speed at all.

Eventually, he wrestles you back down onto the bed and you are fairly certain there’s no way out of this one—he’s got your wrists pinned above your head and his legs locked around yours. You’re both a little out of breath.

“Yield,” he says.

You shake your head. “Never.”

His gaze flicks to your lips and back to your eyes. “Yield.”

“No.”

Something has changed. There’s an electricity and intensity that crackles in the air between you, possibilities blooming in both of your gazes. It feels a little like that moment by the elevator, but you’re afraid to hope, afraid to even wish because the idea of him wanting you still feels as impossible as capturing smoke with a net.

But the way he’s looking at you, the way his gaze keeps drifting between your eyes and your lips…that’s not nothing.

“Yield.”

You lick your lips, your heart beating wildly. “No.”

Is it just your imagination, or did his breath hitch when you licked your lips?

“Yield.”

God, he’s so close and you want him so badly.

“No.”

He looks again at your lips and this time, he closes the distance between you.

They call him Silvertongue—you’ve heard the jokes, you’ve rolled your eyes at all of them. But as he kisses you, you realize that there’s an element of truth there because only seconds in and you’re ready to sign away your soul to live under the power of Loki’s tongue. The slow, warm slide of it against yours, the way he guides your mouth against his, the way he lets out a soft sigh as he tastes you—you would give up everything if it meant you could stay like this.

“Yield,” he breathes against your lips.

“No,” you say.

He deepens the kiss, catching your lower lip between his teeth and gently tugging until you whimper and arch against him.

He still has your hands pinned against the bed, his grip unyielding when you try to wrestle them away.

“Let me touch you,” you say when he draws back. You want to touch him everywhere—run your hands along every muscle you’ve admired from afar.

“Then yield,” he says with a grin, his eyes flashing with devilish intent.

You consider this for a moment. You could give in—there aren’t really any stakes at this point and you’re pretty sure you’re both going to end up sleeping in his bed tonight anyway. But that glint of mischief in his eyes also promises some intriguing possibilities if you stand firm.

“No,” you say.

“Such a pity,” says Loki, though his expression is one of hungry delight.

His hands slip free of your wrists then, but they stay pinned to the bed by some invisible force.

“Cheater,” you say.

“I think this is only fair,” he says, his hands sliding to your hips. “I’m clearly the victor, am I not entitled to my prize?”

You shiver. “Your prize?”

“Yes.” He kisses down the column of your throat. “My lovely, lovely prize.”

“How can I be your prize if I’m also your competitor?”

“You think too much,” he mumbles against your neck.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Generally, it’s not.” He sits back on his heels between your legs, looking you over with satisfaction. “But in this case, it’s distracting you from more pressing matters.” His hands creep under the hem of your shirt, stroking the small of your back, thumbs tracing teasingly along the waistband of your pajama pants.

“Have I mentioned how much I enjoy seeing you in my clothes?” he asks. There’s a husky depth to his voice and a hunger in his eyes that sends a flood of arousal to your cunt.

“You have not,” you say.

“A casualty of too much thinking,” he says solemnly, his thumbs gently grazing the skin at your hipbones. “You look utterly delectable. I almost want to leave them on.” His eyes glitter with mischief. “Almost.” His hand strays to the bottom button on your pajama top. “May I?”

You nod. “Yes.”

He slips the button free and slowly makes his way up until your shirt is open. He carefully pushes the fabric aside, baring your breasts to his sight and touch.

You’ve never felt more beautiful seeing Loki stare at you, lips slightly parted, eyes wide and hungry. He trails one hand up your stomach and rib cage and slowly brushes a thumb over your nipple. You gasp and the sensitive skin puckers and stiffens as he palms your breast, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs as he lowers his mouth to your breast, his tongue and lips taking up the role of his hand, while his other hand moves to cup your other breast. You whimper, wishing you could run your hands through his hair. “That’s it,” he purrs, “I want to hear all the sounds you can make, my love.”

You rock your hips forward and arch your back as he lavishes attention on your breasts. It’s the most delicious kind of torture, having him so close, but not being able to touch him.

He’s taking his time, which you both love and hate. He feels so good, but you need him to touch you, you need to touch him, you need him inside of you. You wait until you can’t take it any more and breathe his name like it’s a prayer.

You wonder if this is what he was waiting for because with little more than a brief smirk and a wicked look, he starts kissing his way back up your chest and neck. You whimper when his lips meet yours and you can feel him grin as he kisses you. He fits his hips against yours, angling himself so that his cock rubs up against your clit just right and you moan into his mouth. You can tell that he’s big and part of you wants to savor the anticipation even though you feel like you might go mad if he doesn’t fuck you now. You rock your hips against him, trying to feel that friction.

His large hands frame your face, one hand sliding to cradle the back of your head so he can draw you deeper, the other trailing from your cheek to your throat.

Both hands soon stroke down your sides, lingering teasingly at the waistband of your pajama pants. He hooks his thumbs underneath the waistband and you lift your hips. He slides your pants down maybe an inch and you can feel him smiling as he kisses you. You lift your hips again and your waistband creeps down another inch.

“Loki.” His name falls from your lips with a sigh.

“What is it, my love?”

“Touch me,” you breathe. “Please.”

You lift your hips again and this time, he pulls the fabric fully down and off your legs. He guides your legs apart and stares appreciatively at your bare cunt, his teasing expression replaced by a rapt awe.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs.

You believe him.

His hands stroke your thighs, seemingly in no hurry, despite your pleading whimpers and the way you arch against the mattress. He draws his thumb gently along your slit, barely grazing your clit.

“Do you know what an utter distraction it’s been sitting behind you?” he asks, tracing your clit in the slowest, lightest circle.

You arch upward, hands still bound by his magic. “Tell me,” you breathe, your hips rising to chase his hand.

“Every time you stood up, I could only think about bending you over the desk.”

You manage a sly smirk. “And here I thought you didn’t like me much at all.”

His thumb presses a little more against your clit and you moan.

“I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you,” he says, rolling his thumb in a slow circle. “I kept you at arm’s length partly as a matter of protection.”

For who?”

“You,” he says. “I’m not fully redeemed in some eyes and you being involved with a dangerous variant—”

“You’re not,” you say.

“Some would disagree.”

“Well, they’re wrong,” you say. “You’re not a dangerous variant. You’re Loki Laufeyson and I want you just as you are.”

There’s something unreadable in his expression and it makes you wonder how many people have told him that he can just be himself.

“You should be careful saying such lovely things to me, you know,” he says solemnly.

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh really? And why is that?”

“Because it makes me want to do very wicked things to you.”

You’re surprised you’re not shaking, you want him so badly. “What kinds of wicked things?”

“Oh, all manner of wicked things.” He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, his tongue swiping briefly against your skin. “Things with my mouth...” His thumb rolls over your clit again, his index finger teasing your entrance before retreating. “…my hands…” He drags his gaze over your naked form before locking eyes with you. “My cock.”

A shiver works its way up your spine. “So if I talk about how I think you’re really clever and funny and I find it unbelievably sexy, what sort of wicked thing would that merit?”

The intensity of his gaze makes you shiver again. He crouches down and presses another kiss against the inside of your knee, slowly moving upward. “If you keep talking like that, I’m not going to let you leave my bed for days.”

“You know that’s not a disincentive, right?” you say, sucking in a sharp breath as he nips at the soft skin of your inner thigh. “I’ve wanted you for such a long time, Loki.”

“I’ll make it weeks if you’re not careful.”

“Again, not a disincentive.” You gently tug at your bound wrists and find that they’re still firmly secured. It’s exhilarating, even though you really wish you could run your hands through his hair, especially if he ends up where you think he’s going.

“What else should I tell you?” you muse as he continues his agonizingly slow path along your thigh. “You know, half the reason I kept to myself was that I wanted you so much I was certain that I’d make a fool of myself.”

That earns you a few circles of your clit with his thumb, but his progress up your thigh remains slow. You have a theory about what might move the needle, though.

“I know you like to act like you’re this sort of barely reformed villain, but I think there’s more good in you than you’d like people to believe.”

This time, he moves up to the crease where your thigh joins your hip, close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath ghosting along your labia. His tongue traces a line along your skin and you briefly wonder if you’ll be able to hold it together enough to deliver the last part.

“And,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, “yesterday and today made me want you even more because I feel like I finally saw who you really are and you’re even more wond—”

Your words abruptly give way to a breathy moan because his perfect, skilled tongue has finally found its way to your clit.

You had a plan from here, but whatever it was has dissolved into nothing under the skilled caress of Loki’s tongue. You suspected he would be good at this from the way that he’d kissed you earlier, but you could not have imagined that it would feel like this.

“Oh my god, Loki.” Your thighs are already quaking. You tug again at the invisible bonds on your wrists, but they hold fast. Something about the way the bonds are keeping you gently stretched along the bed combined with how his large hands have your thighs spread open seems to heighten every sensation. There’s no wiggling away from him or adjusting yourself so that you feel more or less of the onslaught of his tongue on your cunt. You are completely at his mercy and you’re not entirely surprised that you fucking love it.

He slides a finger into your aching channel and your cunt shudders around the thick intrusion. The warm, roiling center of your orgasm starts builds in your hips with every stroke of his tongue, spinning faster and faster, like ocean winds whipping up into a hurricane. Your back arches and his tongue presses flat against your clit, and suddenly you know that this is going to be what takes you over the edge.

Loki seems to know it too, at least from the way that he presses his tongue more firmly against you, one arm slung across your hips to hold you in place. His other hand slides two fingers inside you, rocking and curling against that aching, tender spot.

You whimper, your hips bucking wildly. It’s so good and so much and you are almost there.

You look down at him then, his hair wild, hollowed cheeks flushed pink as his tongue works you over, his eyes closed like he couldn’t imagine anything more blissful than being in between your legs while you come undone.

This is ultimately what tips you over the edge. The storm that has been forming inside you is finally let loose and you arch your back and cry out in a wordless scream as your climax crashes into you.

Only then do the bonds around your wrists release and your hands fly down to grab his hair as your body shakes with pleasure.

It takes a moment for you to get your breath back and reacquaint yourself with the concept of speech, but when you do, you find Loki looking up at you, his expression pure mischief.

“And to think you wanted to sleep on the couch.”

“It wasn’t that I wanted to sleep on the couch, it’s that—” Your voice cuts off as his tongue starts stroking your clit again.

“It’s what?” he asks in between strokes, his smirk obvious in his voice. The lingering ripples of your orgasm are coalescing around the path of his tongue, tightening that coil in your belly again.

“Fuck—you’re not playing fair, you can’t just—” You lose your sentence to a low moan that rises up from your chest. “You can’t just—fuck, yes—you can’t…oh god, yes, just like that.”

His laughter rumbles against you as your hips start rocking against his mouth. How are you already so close?

“You can’t just—fuck—win an argument by—”

You’re trying to say that he can’t expect to win an argument by making you come and you think he might understand this based on how determined he seems to be to prove you wrong. His fingers curl again until he finds that soft, tender spot that is so often the key to your unraveling.

You have stopped trying to complete that sentence—you moan, your hands tangling in his hair, urging him on as the swell of your climax rushes up, inevitable as a tidal wave looming over a seaside village.

You cry out as it crests and breaks, falling down over you in a rush of tingling pleasure that feels like champagne and fireworks all at once.

“Now, what was it you were saying, my love?” he asks as he releases your clit a moment later. “Something about how I can’t just win an argument by making you come? I couldn’t quite hear you over the sound of you coming completely undone on my tongue.”

“Oh, you think you’re so smart,” you say, giving him a stern look as he crawls up your body.

“You know what I think?” he says, settling himself on his side next to you. “I think you liked submitting to me.”

You shiver before you can even think about hiding it and his smile turns decidedly vulpine.

“You did, didn’t you? You liked having your hands bound and being completely at my mercy while I licked your pretty cunt until you came undone in my mouth.”

“You are enjoying this far too much,” you say.

“I am enjoying it the correct amount.”

You realize your hands are now free to explore his body and you tug at his pajama shirt. “I think you’re wearing too many clothes,” you say.

He gives you a wicked grin as he lets you pull his shirt over his head. “Yes, perhaps it’s time we even things up.”

You pull the shirt away and rake your eyes over him greedily, your hands following the path of your gaze. He is as perfect as you imagined, unfairly beautiful in the dim light of the bedroom.

You hook your thumbs into the waistband of his pajama pants and lower them an inch, a cheeky parallel of how he teased you earlier. His lips curl into a sharp smile when he realizes what you’re doing.

“Interesting strategy.” There’s a bit of a growl in his voice, a rough desperation that makes your cunt clench. “But I think you forgot that I have the upper hand here.”

He raises his hand and with a twist of his wrist, his remaining clothes dissolve in a shimmer of green and he is bare before you.

Your breath catches in your throat. His cock commands your immediate attention, nudging up against your thigh—he’s big, as you suspected, but completely bare and rock hard, he somehow seems longer and thicker than he had when he was grinding against you.

He pulls you into a slow kiss as you reach for his cock. You wrap your hand around him, delighting in the silky hardness of him, the way he throbs in your hand and the low groan he makes as your hand moves from base to tip and back, the way his hips thrust along with you. Your cunt clenches in anticipation.

After a moment, though, he places his hand over yours, slowing your movements.

“I need to be inside you,” he rasps.

“Yes,” you breathe.

He rolls on top of you and you’re not sure that you’ve ever felt anything quite as wonderful as the heat of his bare skin and yours pressed together. This feeling means intimacy, a closeness that you’d longed for but never expected even in your wildest daydreams.

He pulls you into a kiss, slow, soft, and languid, like you have all the time in the world and he intends to take it. It’s decadent and dreamy and perfect.

But the heavy weight of his bare cock resting against your stomach combined with the ache between your legs—an ache that would be so perfectly soothed by the hard column of flesh currently throbbing against you—proves to be a force too powerful to resist for very long.

You cant your hips against him, snaking one leg around his waist, hoping he’ll get the hint.

He does.

He braces himself on one hand, the other sliding between your bodies to rub his cock along your slick folds. He positions himself at your entrance, waiting for your breathy plea to begin to ease himself slowly into you.

He fills and stretches you in the most wonderful way, but even more than that, he feels like home. The thought strikes you quite suddenly and you’re not entirely sure about everything it means, but you know it’s good and right.

He pauses for just a moment, seeming to savor the feeling.

“You feel better than I ever imagined,” he says.

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “You imagined?”

He gives you a hungry smile as he leans in to kiss you. “Like I said: it has been an utter distraction sitting behind you.”

His rhythm is slow and easy, like he wants to take his time learning every inch of you and memorizing how you react to his touch. His mouth moves over yours in a slow kiss that’s somehow both languid and demanding, his tongue gliding in and out of your mouth in the same rhythm of his hips rocking into you. His cock bumps up against that sweet spot inside of you that his fingers had teased earlier, each stroke inching you closer to bliss.

He shifts the angle of his hips so that his pubic bone grinds against your clit and it feels so good you almost see stars. You can feel your orgasm building, your cunt growing slicker and tensing around his thrusting cock.

He draws back to look at you, eyes hazy with a loose, dreamy kind of pleasure.

“Do you have any idea how good you feel?” he breathes.

You are shaking. “Loki, I’m gonna come.”

“I know you are,” he purrs. “Let go for me, let me feel you, my love.”

With two more thrusts of his hips, you unravel.

He groans as you tremble around him, but mostly, he watches your face, rapt by the way you throw your head back against the bed and gasp his name like it’s the only thing that will save you.

“You’re beautiful when you come,” he breathes. “Absolutely stunning.”

He waits until you catch your breath before he kisses you again, slow and sensual. His hips are still rocking in that beautifully slow rhythm and you don’t know how it can still feel so good.

He keeps moving against you, his touch and his low murmurs of praise invoking a symphony of sensations. He presses deeper and your body sings with every thrust, your muscles tensing and tightening around him like you never want him to leave. Your climax swells again and you come with a whimper, your whole body shaking as he fucks you through it.

You want him to come, want to hear the sounds he makes and feel his sweet, hot release burning inside of you.

“I want you to come for me,” you breathe.

He grins at you. “Oh, I will, but not yet. You’re not done yet.”

You whimper. “Loki—”

“Two more, my love, two more and then I’ll come for you.”

Somehow, you give him three. By the second one, he’s panting and his words have become rough, his voice a growl as he utters some of the filthiest praise you’ve ever heard. The third builds quickly after that and you know instinctively that you’re going to take him over the edge with you this time.

You fight to keep your eyes open against the tidal wave of pleasure blooming again in your hips. You need to see him come undone.

As in everything else he does, he’s unfairly beautiful—he throws his head back, letting out a low groan that you can feel all the way to the tips of your toes. His cheeks are flushed, a few ink dark curls plastered to the light sheen of sweat on his forehead. You can feel him emptying himself inside you, his release hot and hard won.

It seems to last a long time and it’s another minute before his hips slow to a halt. He kisses you, so soft and sweet it would almost seem chaste were it not for the fact that his cock is still throbbing inside of you.

After a moment, he slowly eases out of you, rolling over onto his back, his arm snaking around your waist and pulling you to him like he can’t bear to be parted from you even for a moment.

You curl up against his side, your legs tangling with his. He takes your hand, lacing his fingers with yours before resting your clasped hands on his heart.

You could fall in love like this, you think sleepily to yourself.

You don’t know it then, but you’re right.

Time moves differently at the TVA, but a couple years later, there’s a ring in a box on your desk.

Loki likes a spectacle and you’d daydreamed about a traditional wedding, but when you talk it over, you both agree that you want to do something different, something quiet, something just for the two of you.

“I do think we should tell Mobius beforehand,” you say to Loki.

“Isn’t the point of eloping that no one knows until after it’s done?” says Loki.

“Yes, but I feel like we could make one exception,” you say. “If we’d done a full wedding, I would have asked him to give me away.”

Loki’s gaze softens a bit then and he pulls you close. “All right. But we only tell him right before we leave. The man can’t keep a secret.”

But Mobius doesn’t seem terribly surprised when you tell him—in fact, he seems far more concerned about your wedding gift.

“I didn’t have a chance to wrap it yet,” he says. He’s retrieved a large picture frame that had been propped against his desk, though he keeps it turned away from you. “So…this also requires a bit of an overdue confession for context.”

You raise your eyebrows. “A confession?”

“A confession,” says Mobius.

“Will I be angry about this?” asks Loki at the same time you say, “Is this like a go to jail confession or a misdemeanor confession?”

Mobius gives a good natured chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “God, the two of you. Always so dramatic. No wonder you ended up together.” He takes what feels like an unnecessarily long drink from the coffee mug on his desk. “It’s not bad, I promise.” Another sip of coffee.

Loki sighs. “He always does this,” he says to you. “Have you noticed? Whenever he has something that you want to know, he stalls and drags it out just to torment you.”

“Okay,” you say, “but you jumping in to bicker with him probably doesn’t help.”

“I’m not bickering,” says Loki. “I’m simply pointing out that he’s stalling—”

“What was it you were saying, Mobius?” you say brightly, nudging Loki with your elbow.

Mobius’ eyes twinkle. “See,” he says to Loki, “I always liked her. It’s a good match.”

You don’t have to look at Loki to know he’s rolling his eyes, though he also makes a point of surreptitiously pinching your ass, a detail you hope Mobius doesn’t notice.

“Anyway,” says Mobius, taking a deep breath, “it was pretty clear to me from the start that you liked each other. And you also seemed absolutely determined to get in your own way.” He points to Loki. “Especially you with your whole stilted Asgardian prince thing.”

Loki frowns. “What are you talking about?”

Mobius sighs. “Anytime you like someone, it’s like your brain gets a factory reset and you get all overly polite and courtly.”

Loki scoffs. “I don’t do that at all.”

“You do. It’s deeply weird. You’re like a mannerly robot.”

Loki turns to you. “Darling, tell him he’s being absurd.”

You reach over and squeeze his hand. “You did call me ‘my lady’ a couple of times in the early days.”

Loki sighs and looks back at Mobius. “What was your point in mentioning this?”

“Well,” says Mobius, “you seemed pretty determined to get in your own way, so nothing was happening. And eventually I got sick of all of the pining, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.”

“What do you mean?”

Mobius pauses, a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “There wasn’t a breakthrough with Berlitz that weekend. What there was was a surplus in the overtime budget and a high priority indexing project for Archives.”

Your lips part as your brain slowly puts the pieces together. Mobius’ eyes twinkle.

“Wait,” you say, “you lied to us?”

“I did not lie,” says Mobius, his demeanor suddenly becoming very serious. “That would have been wrong.” He nods at Loki. “Also, it would’ve tipped him off and that would have ruined the whole thing. I simply failed to mention that the cart of files that I gave you needed to be sorted for indexing for the Archives department and I peppered in a couple of unrelated things about Berlitz.”

“But the office was empty that weekend,” says Loki.

Mobius snaps his fingers. “Right. I did make some adjustments to the schedule that weekend.”

“And the disturbance that prevented her from returning home on Saturday night?”

Mobius spreads his hands wide and grins. “All me, buddy. Paid G-21 five hundred bucks for that one.”

Loki pauses for a moment and then looks at you. “I don’t think I can be mad about this. I’m genuinely impressed.”

“I mean, I can’t argue with the results, but Jesus, Mobius, you could’ve just set us up on a blind date,” you say.

“Ah, but that’s not as fun,” Mobius says. “Plus, it wouldn’t have made for as good a wedding gift.” He turns the frame around and hands it to you both.

It’s both your timecards from that pay period, neatly framed side by side. Your eyes well with tears and Mobius smiles.

“Honestly, I’m just relieved it’s not a jet ski,” says Loki.

“He's deflecting,” you say to Mobius in an exaggerated whisper.

“I know,” he whispers back.

But you can’t help but notice that Loki’s eyes are brighter than normal.

“Okay, now get out of here,” says Mobius. “You’ve got a wedding to get to.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re wearing a simple white dress and standing with Loki in front of a time door, your hand clasped in his.

“Technically, we don’t have a supervisor’s approval for this,” you say with a wry smile.

He looks at you, eyes dancing with mirth. “I had Mobius sign off on the paperwork while you were getting ready.”

Your heart swells and your smile is so wide that you feel like your face might split in two. “Then hurry up and marry me, Laufeyson.”

He grins and tugs you through the time door.

-------

But wait! There's more: I don't have a masterlist for this, but if you enjoy these idiots, check out Daylight, a sort of sequel.

#loki smut #loki x reader #loki x reader smut #loki laufeyson smut #loki x female reader smut #loki x female reader #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #tva loki x reader

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lady-pug · 2 months ago

Text

Written Between the Lines

Interlude - Meddling With Our Hearts

Summary: Five times someone interferes with yours and Aemond’s relationship and one time you decide to take the reins and shape your own fate.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 6,9k

Warnings: canon-typical incest (uncle-niece)

Notes: Hello!! How have you all been? This one came out faster than I expected! Yay!

Okay, just to explain a few things, so this chapter is a bonus, non-chronological chapter in the story. It is separated into items, as it follows the ‘5+1 Things’ model, spanning across several years. In item 1, Reader and Aemond are very young, around 4 and 6 respectively (and Aegon is around 10), whereas items 2, 3, 4 and 5 are set after chapter 1 of this story (think episodes 6 and 7 of season 1). Lastly, the last item is set in the middle of chapter 2.

I am having lots of fun writing for Aemond, so much so I have a few ideas for unrelated one-shots I plan on writing for him. Anyway, I really really hope you enjoy this!

Next chapter | Previous chapter | Masterlist | Read on AO3

1. Aegon Targaryen

As young children, wherever Aemond Targaryen was you were never too far behind. As the eldest of Rhaenyra Targaryen’s children, you were often regarded as a possible successor of your mother’s to the title of the Realm’s Delight, being soft and sweet and so very beautiful even from such a young age. There was no shortage of people wanting to gaze upon you, spoil you with attention and possibly win over the favor of the heir to the Iron Throne after King Viserys I. But there was only ever one person whose attention you truly craved.

With the birth of your younger brother Jace and your mother’s pregnancy with yet another child, your parents’ attention was naturally split. It wasn’t to say they neglected you or favored your brother above you, oh no, but it was only natural that you were no longer their sole focus, even more fickle given their duties at court. Your father in particular, Ser Laenor, tried to give you as much attention as he possibly could, but even then that was restricted to specific times of the day, mostly at supper and after. It was an adjustment, for sure, and for a little while you resented your little brother, but you were quick to find another source of the attention you craved somewhere else: your uncle Aemond. You couldn’t possibly know why, nor had you ever thought about it, but you were drawn to him in ways you could not explain. And the feeling seemed to be mutual.

Aemond Targaryen, as the second son of King Viserys and his fourth child, was most often overlooked by many in court. He wasn’t Rhaenyra, who held their father’s unconditional love, or Aegon, who carried the title of his first male child, and matters were made worse by the fact that his dragon egg had yet to hatch, whereas Aegon’s had done so when he was still pretty young, and Helaena had quickly claimed Dreamfyre. Even his mother, who once doted on him like never before, had lessened her attention over him, as her fourth pregnancy progressed and her affection usually leaned more towards her only daughter.

So when his little niece, barely old enough to attend lessons, had developed a fascination towards him and would often trail behind him wherever he went, he absolutely basked in the attention that was so freely given. You, who had no obligation to him other than to be cordial at best, gazing up at him with adoration in those innocent eyes made him cherish the moments you spend together.

It was only natural, then, that the two of you could often be found in each other’s presence. Whenever neither of you were having lessons and were left to your own devices, you seemed to always find each other, your tiny hand enveloped in Aemond’s not much bigger one as he pulled you behind him towards whatever destination he had in mind.

“Where we going, Aem?” your sweet voice, not yet able to properly speak his name, would often ask. The library, the dragonpit, the gardens, it didn’t truly matter as long as you were together.

Aem.

The nickname you had bestowed upon him was one of his deepest treasures. To everyone else he was either Aemond, son or brother, and two of these he had to share with other people, but to you, and to you alone, he was Aem. It was something so inherently his, something to share with you and only you. It reminded him of you, of the devotion and admiration you held for him, something no one else seemed to have for him, and he never wanted to let go of it.

But as he would be reminded time and time again he should never hope, nor should he wish for good things for himself, for they could be ripped from him at a moment’s notice.

The day had started out like any other: after your lessons you had quickly scrambled out of your quarters to find Aemond and spend the day together. He had decided, then, to take you to the training grounds to watch some of the knights train.

“See that one over there?” he pointed to a man, just barely out of adolescence, training with Criston Cole “That is Ser Arryk. Or could he be Erryk? It matters not, either way, both of them are really good. Ser Criston is training them to be the newest members of the Kingsguard.”

“Wow.” you sounded from next to him, mesmerized by the clash of the swords.

“Impressive, hm?” he then pointed to another man who was supervising the training “Ser Criston, over there, he is the best knight in all the realms. I hope to train under him and be as good as he is one day.”

He was eager to start training with the sword, like his older brother already did. His mother had promised him that he could start his own training after his next nameday, though it was still a few moons away, he was already eagerly waiting for that moment.

“You be amazing knight in future, Aem.” you turned towards him then, that look of pure reverence made warmth spread in his chest, for he felt your words were true.

“Aem?!” a familiar voice cackled behind the two of you, and Aemond could feel the cold dread seeping into his heart like it usually did when his brother decided to torment him.

Aegon marched over in your direction, almost an entire head taller than Aemond, and ruffled his younger brother’s hair with a tad more force than necessary.

“Oh, Aemy, you will be such an amazing knight one day.” he spoke in a poor imitation of your own voice, high pitched and overly sweet and dreamy. Your face was scrunched in anger and poorly contained humiliation, and had the two of you not been under scrutiny Aemond would have found it adorable.

“Aegon, stop it!” he tried defending the two of you but he couldn’t stop his own cheeks from lighting up in embarrassment.

“Aemy, oh, Aem. Perhaps our mothers will marry us off to one another and I can carry your children.” Aegon chuckled before flicking his brother on the forehead “You would surely want that, wouldn’t you, you twat?”

You couldn’t take it anymore. With a warcry unbefitting of a princess of the realm you delivered a sharp kick to Aegon’s shin, the only part of him you could really reach, before running off with tiny droplets streaming down your cheeks. Aemond tried going after you, holding your wrist, but you swatted his hand away and disappeared around the corner.

“She attacked me!” Aegon complained, voice strained from the intensity of the blow, utterly baffled at how something so small could carry so much strength.

“Oh, please!” Aemond pushed past his brother, annoyed, before stomping away towards his own quarters “It barely scratched. And you deserved it.”

For the next three days you ignored both of them, preferring to spend your days with Heleana. Whenever he asked about you, his mother would claim you didn’t wish for visitors and would rather stay in the company of your aunt. Aemond couldn’t deny that it stung, the only person he felt cared for him deeply, no longer wanting to spend time with him.

So he was overjoyed when, on the fourth day, you approached him as if nothing had ever happened, your expression light and smile bright as you held his hand.

“Where we going, uncle?” and his face fell, joy completely dissipating and giving way to sadness.

You refused to call him by his previous nickname after that day, opting to refer to him only as ‘uncle’ going forward, and Aemond felt an overwhelming longing for things to go back to the way they were. He couldn’t help the resentment he felt towards Aegon for ruining what you had, for he felt it in his bones that things between the two of you would never truly be the same again.

2. Jason Lannister

You were bored out of your very mind at the moment. You had zoned out completely and could barely hear the incessant droning of Jason Lannister’s voice in the background as you reflected upon your life at the moment.

After that night in the bathtub where you shared your very first kiss with your uncle, you feared things between the two of you would change, and change for the worse. You didn’t want that, cherishing what you had with Aemond, even if it never went anywhere beyond friendship. But you needn’t have worried so much, for both of you seemed adamant in not ever speaking of that night ever again. It did sting a little if you were being honest with yourself, but you preferred that over ruining what you had.

So you were very much looking forward to spending a few hours with him before lunch when you were intercepted by Ser Jason Lannister.

“You look wonderful today, my princess.” the man had smiled down at you.

“Uh, thank you, my lord.” you answered, confused as to what he could possibly want.

“Why don’t you give me the pleasure of going on a stroll with me around the gardens?”

You didn’t know why he wanted to take a stroll with you of all people. And to be fair you didn’t want to spend more time than necessary in his presence. What you did want was to find Aemond and spend your day with him. But something, a strange sense of propriety and duty, held you back and you found yourself agreeing with his proposal.

That’s how you ended in the current situation, arm looped with his as he droned on and on and on about himself and his wealth and his castle and many other topics you couldn’t care less about.

In your reverie you hadn’t even realized you had reached the training grounds until Aemond, who had just finished his training session with Ser Criston, smiled and waved at you as he was putting a wooden shield away. You were about to wave back when Ser Jason’s voice pulled your attention back to him once more.

“Well, princess, this is where we must part ways, unfortunately.” he gave a small bow of his head before letting go of your arm “The maesters say it is good to keep active, so I will go see if I can find a sparring partner.”

You barely spared him a courtesy as Aemond was already by your side, ready to whisk you away.

“What was that all about?” he asked when you were already halfway to the library, a sense of unease pulling at his heartstrings once he remembered the way your arm was linked with the older lord.

“I do not know for sure.” you shrugged “I barely paid attention to what he was saying. Something about his riches I believe, we just went on a walk around the Keep.”

He laughed then, though it lacked any mirth, and his smile no longer reached his eyes.

“What is it?”

“You are so naïve, niece.” he explained.

“And why is that?” you questioned, feeling slightly offended.

“He wishes to court you.”

Your disgust at the thought must have been reflected very clearly upon your face, for he let out a full, genuine laugh this time.

“B-But- why?!” you tried collecting your thoughts, flabbergasted by such revelation “He is so…”

“Arrogant? Boring? Plain? All of the above?” Aemond completed for you, jesting at the situation.

“Old!” you whined and he laughed even harder at your expanse “I mean it! He is older than my own father!” you got closer to him to whisper conspiratorially at him “I heard he courted mother when she was looking for a husband, and he was already considered too old for her at the time.”

His laughter echoed around the halls, a few servants stopping to stare at the two of you, dumbfounded at the way you seemed to be able to bring the usually stoic prince out of his shell.

“But why does he wish to court me? Why not some other, older, lady?” you asked, still confused.

“Well, you are not just any lady, mandianna. You are a princess.” he explained, though his words seemed practiced, like they were reflections of not his own thoughts but those of other people “Any lord would jump at the opportunity to wed you. Chances are, in fact, that more suitors will start to flock around you for attention as you grow.”

“Ugh!” your shoulders slumped under the weight of your frustration “I do not wish to marry these lords!” you threw your hands up in exasperation “I just wish to spend my days with you and Helaena! Why can I not just marry you, then?!”

He felt a twinge too tight of happiness at the notion, but chose to ignore it and listen as you continued with your rant.

“If I were to marry one of these lords I would be miserable!”

His face softened in sympathy, remembering the conversation he overheard between his mother and grandsire regarding Aegon and Heleana’s betrothal. He felt pained for his sister, for he knew Aegon would not treat her how she deserved, and now he was seeing the same pattern with you.

“It is our duty, I fear, to find matches that best interest our House.” he spoke softly, but you turned towards him infuriated, and he feared he said the wrong thing.

“But I do not want to marry for duty!” his heart clenched in his chest as he noticed your eyes brimming with tears “I want a husband who loves and cares for me, like father and mother!”

He held back his tongue, knowing that speaking his mind about the kind of love between your parents, or lack thereof, would only upset you further. There was no denying that Ser Laenor cared deeply for Rhaenyra, just not in the way a husband should a wife.

The both of you stayed quiet for a moment, you simmering in your unsettled thoughts and him disappointed he couldn’t comfort you further, for this was something that was out of his hands.

“I would not mind, you know?” he heard you speak softly, turning his head to find you already looking at him.

“What?”

“Marrying you.” you smiled softly at him “At least with you I would be content. I could see us being happy, even.”

Your words were a soothing balm over his heart, making it clench in his chest. He, too, did find the notion appealing, he could be happy with you, hells, you already made him happy.

“If it matters,” he spoke, trying to hide his true feelings behind a layer of nonchalance “I would not mind marrying you either.”

Your smile brightened then, and you bumped your shoulder with his.

“One can dream, right?” you giggled, before sighing once a servant came to fetch you to clean up before lunch, annoyed that your time with him had been cut short.

But as you walked away an idea formed in his mind, and with a determination he hadn’t felt in a really long time, he set off to find his half-sister.

3. Alicent Hightower

“No.” the Queen’s voice was harsh, and Aemond’s heart filled with dread as he peaked from his hiding place behind a pillar in her solar. He knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop but his traitorous heart was too anxious to wait.

“Come on, your grace.” Rhaenyra answered, clearly annoyed, a hand placed on her very pregnant stomach and another on her lower back, as if standing here arguing was bringing her physical discomfort “The boy came to me, begging for her hand in marriage, all that was left was for him to fall to his knees. She herself has asked about the possibility of marrying him once. They are the perfect match!”

After your conversation earlier that day, Aemond had set off to find Rhaenyra and ask, no, beg her to allow him to court and eventually marry you. She had laughed in his face, and he tried not to show how her dismissal wounded his pride, until her face softened once she realized he was serious.

“Please, sister.” he had even stooped so low as to address their familial bond, no matter how sour the word tasted in his mouth “Allow me to marry her. As her husband, she would want for nothing, I would protect her with my very life. And I could even… make her happy.”

Rhaenyra’s face softened then, for the first time realizing how much her little brother truly cared for her daughter. She had known the two of you were close, but the depth of your feelings for one another was only now being revealed to her. So she promised him she would speak with his own mother, and if Alicent agreed, then so would she. Aemond’s heart had plummeted then, knowing it would be a lot harder getting through his mother. But he wouldn’t give up hope.

But hope, it seemed, was not enough.

“No, and my answer is final.” Alicent moved about, trying to get Rhaenyra to leave and go bother someone else.

“Alicent,” even though she had her back towards him, Aemond could imagine the tick in his mother’s eye at the informal way Rhaenyra was addressing her “All I am asking is that you consider it.”

“Why do you even think they would be a good match for one another?”

“Oh, by the Gods, Alicent! Can you not see how much they care for each other? The amount of time they spend together? They are practically glued at the hip at this point!” Rhaenyra threw her hands up in exasperation, and Aemond could see yourself so perfectly in your mother’s image “I will just ask my father then.”

“Do not entertain that idea even for a moment!” Alicent’s voice became shrill as she glared at her former friend “What is this even about, hm? Are you so afraid that child” and she pointed at Rhaneyra’s prominent bump “will be born sooner or later bearing a striking resemblance to a certain commander of the City Watch once more that you resort to this… this scheming? To secure your line of succession, is that it?”

Ouch. That was low, even for Alicent’s standards.

Rhaenyra’s face hardened as she stepped closer to the Queen, and for a moment fear gripped Aemond’s heart that he was about to witness his mom get battered.

“My brother, your own son” she spat out, genuinely angry now “begged me to let him marry my daughter when they are older. He promised me he would be a good husband, and for once in my life I am inclined to believe him.” her face softened then, raising her hands as if to grab Alicent’s but let them drop, thinking better than to try and touch her “Please, your grace. If there is still any care left in your heart for the love we once held for one another, please let me do this for him.”

Aemond waited with bated breath for his mother to say something, anything. For once in his life he allowed himself to hope; he’d give up everything, even his dream of having a dragon of his own, just so she’d say yes. But the longer she went without saying anything, the deeper the cracks in his heart became.

“I will not be able to change your mind, will I?” Rhaenyra asked, her face contorting in sympathy, and when Alicent shook her head, breaking his heart in a thousand tiny little pieces in the process, she sighed “Then I feel sorry for Aemond. For both of them.”

As Rhaenyra left the Queen’s solar, Aemond took his leave as well, his heart shattered and a weight heavy on his stomach, regretting even going to his half-sister in the first place. It seemed you and he could never be after all.

4. Rhaenyra Targaryen

Tears streamed down your face as you ran through the cold tunnels of Maegor’s Holdfast, not caring even for a moment that you were only dressed in a nightgown. The news you had just heard from your father regarding your mother’s decision weighed heavily in your heart, and you had to share them with your uncle immediately. It couldn’t wait until the morrow, because come first light you might be gone.

“Hells, niece, will you ever learn to knock?” Aemond had turned towards you once you barged inside his chambers through the secret door, freezing once he noticed the state you were in. He was in front of you in a second, holding your cheeks in his palms and forcing you to look at him “What happened?”

Even though his image was blurred by the tears that kept on rolling down your cheeks, barely noticing when he started collecting them with his thumbs, you could perfectly see the concern etched upon his features, and that was all it took for you to release the sobs you had been holding back, falling into his arms and hiccuping against his shoulder.

“Mandianna, what happened?!” he asked, holding your trembling figure in his arms and awkwardly trying to console you, running a gentle hand up and down your back. He had never seen you in such a state before, and he did not truly know how to help, much less without knowing the cause of your distress.

Once you had calmed down enough, your wails reduced to soft sniffles, you pulled back from him, running the back of your hand through your face to try and look more presentable.

“Mother has decided to move us to Dragonstone.”

Aemond’s breath hitched then.

“What?” he whispered, taking a step back from you.

“Father just told me. We are to leave King’s Landing come first light in the morrow.”

He felt his whole world crumbling before his very eyes then. He believed his heart could no longer face more damage, for it had already been broken when he overheard his mother and Rhaenyra’s conversation a sennight before, but he felt it shatter all over again at your words.

“C-Can you not stay behind?” With me?, he wanted to ask as his own eyes started filling with tears.

“I asked, but father says we are all to go. Me, Jace, Luke and baby Joffrey.”

His heart was beating widely in his chest, twisting painfully at the prospect of having to face everyday at court without you to keep him company, to keep him sane.

“We can write, of course, but-” you started, voice still trembling.

“It will not be the same.” he completed for you.

It was true, wasn’t it? Things were about to change. On one hand he wouldn’t have to face the teasing from Jace and Luke, just Aegon, the main instigator. But on the other hand he would lose you, which was so much worse.

But then he noticed how your lower lip had started quivering again and realized he had put quite a lot of distance between the two of you. Not wanting you to jump to the wrong conclusions he crossed the space he had created and cupped your cheeks, looking sternly into your eyes.

“It does not change anything.”

“Aemond-” you looked at him with sympathy and disbelief but he wasn’t having it.

“No. It does not change anything between us.” he spoke, determined “I will write to you every single day, and I expect a response every time. It will be like you never left. You can fly on dragonback and come visit. And when I get my dragon, I will visit you in return.”

Your smile, although tentative and still wobbly, returned to your face and he felt relief wash through him.

“You said so yourself, the lines promised me I will have a dragon.” he rejoiced at hearing you giggle “I have to make good use of them when time comes.”

A comfortable silence settled over the two of you. Something in your eye, glimmering with a blazing hope, compelled Aemond to lean forward, resting his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as he took everything in.

“We will still be the same.” he felt you move, nodding against his head, never once moving away “We will still be us.”

And even though, or perhaps exactly because neither of you could prevent the events that would unfold in the following weeks, both of you believed it with every ounce of your souls.

5. Aemond Targaryen

“Aemond.” you knocked once more, your knuckles red and starting to ache from their incessant contact with the hard wood “Qȳbor, please open the door.”

He hadn’t left his temporary chambers in days, and no one would let you see him. After the whole ordeal with Vhagar and the fight between your two mothers in the grand hall at Driftmark after the loss of his eye, Aemond was whisked away to the quarters he was stationed at during his stay so the maesters could work properly on his wound and for him to sleep off the copious amounts of milk of the poppy he had been given.

Having talked to your brothers and cousins and understood what had gone down, you started feeling a tad guilty for the way you reacted to it. Yes, you were still hurt over what he had said about your brothers and, by extension, you. But at the same time you had let him go when he was the most vulnerable, he had just lost an eye for the Gods’ sake. And yet, even though you were hurting, so was he, he needed you and yet you let go and ran from him.

So you had decided you needed to talk. Perhaps, if you apologized for Luke’s actions and your own behavior, he’d offer an apology of his own, for calling your brothers bastards and for not extending Rhaena the courtesy of trying to claim her late mother’s dragon before him. Then, having cleared the air, you could move past this and go back to the way things were, with exchanged letters and promises of visiting one another.

But your attempts seemed futile. There was always a guard stationed in front of his door, denying you entrance every single time you asked. Even though they were stern, hardened by their training, you tried using your authority as princess to order them to let you through, but to no such luck.

“Apologies, princess.” they would say, a smidge of sympathy and annoyance in their tone “The prince is to receive no visitors. Orders from her grace, the Queen.”

Panic was starting to grip at your heart, for your time was running out. Eventually, as soon as Aemond was recovered enough to travel, King Viserys and his family would leave Driftmark and return to King’s Landing. By then it would be too late. If you didn’t speak to him now, you would lose Aemond forever. That is, if you hadn’t already lost him for good. You had to speak to him, and it had to be soon, otherwise he’d leave and you would lose the one person you cared most in the world, who understood you like no one else, and would be left to drown in your own loneliness.

So you started scheming. You waited around the corridor of his chambers, waiting for rotation of the guard so you could catch his door unattended. You almost managed once, but Queen Alicent opened the door to exit the room, stopping dead in her tracks once she came face to face with you, about to knock.

“Your grace!” you were quick to recompose yourself “I came to visit the prince. I wish to see if he is faring well.”

You winced, instantly regretting your choice of words once her face hardened. Of course he wasn’t faring well, he just lost his bloody eye!

“Aemond is not receiving any visitors.” her voice was harsh, and dread overcame you as she started to walk away.

“Wait!” she stopped but didn’t turn around to face you as you pleaded “I just- I just want to see him.”

When she did turn her features were laced with a combination of disdain and pity. It stirred something so deep inside you you almost recoiled and ran, but you decided to endure.

“He doesn’t wish to see anyone, princess.” she spoke, her tone stern yet motherly. But the implications of her words were not lost on you.

He doesn’t wish to see you.

It hurt, tears brimming in your eyes as you turned around and headed for your chambers.

Did he truly not wish to see you? Or did he just wish for solitude, away from everyone? Could your friendship still be mended after both of you had been hurt like this?

It didn’t matter, afterall, for you were determined to try until the very end.

That’s how you found yourself in front of his door, finally alone with him, having waited patiently for the guard’s rotation and making sure his mother wasn’t around. It was his final night in Driftmark before he was set to return to the capitol, and so this was your last, final chance to talk to him before that.

There was a light flickering inside his chambers, visible from under the door, so you knew he likely wasn’t asleep, and when you had knocked for the first time, you heard a thud coming from inside, like he had bumped into some furniture, so you believed he had listened to you. But no matter how many times you knocked, he wouldn’t open it, nor give any indication that he was listening.

“Aemond, please.” you tried again “Please, let us talk.”

The longer you went without an answer, the tighter the knot that was forming in your throat became. Growing desperate, you laid your forehead on the cold, damp wood.

“Please.” you breathed out, not even sure he could hear you now “Talk to me, Aemond. Please.”

For a moment, a short, passing moment, you heard a flutter of movement from inside the room. Your breath hitched, a tiny flicker of unadulterated hope burning in your chest that he had heard you and was coming to talk. But it was quickly snuffed out when you heard nothing else follow.

A deep ache took over your chest, like something had dug its claws in your heart and squeezed. The inevitability of it all, the looming sense of grief over something so close yet impossibly far, out of your grasp completely, clouded your mind and had your ears ringing.

“I am sorry.” you said, taking a step back and turning around to leave “For everything.”

As you walked away you couldn’t help but feel like a part of you was missing. For you had just lost him for good. Perhaps forever.

As you brushed off your skirts, having been sat on the grass by the weirwood tree, you set off to find your mother, determination written across your features.

You nearly ran into Luke as you walked briskly, sending a thankful look to Rhaena as she helped you steady him.

“Where are you off to in such a rush?” Jace asked as he came up behind your brother at the same time you bypassed him and Baela and continued on your way.

“To secure myself a husband!” you shouted over your shoulder, not even turning back around to address them. Now all that was left was to find your mother.

And search for her you did. It was imperative that you found her quickly, for you wanted to make sure you did this tonight. It had to be tonight. No one knew how much longer the King would live, and the moment he drew his final breath, a war would break out within your family. A war that would ravage all of the Seven Kingdoms. So you had to make sure that didn’t happen while your grandire was still alive and lucid enough to give you his full support.

But Rhaenyra was nowhere to be found. The Keep was huge and there was a probability that you were both on the move and simply never crossing paths. You even stumbled upon Helaena during your search as she tended to her youngest son, Maelor.

“Have you seen my mother, aunt?” you asked after a brief and sweet exchange, though you did not hug her like you would Baela and Rhaena, for you knew she did not like to be touched.

“I have not, niece.” she bounced baby Maelor in her arms as he cooed up at her “Why are you in such a haste to find her, if I might ask?”

“I have something of utmost importance to discuss with her.” you smirked as you added next, and by the glimmer in her eyes she understood the hidden meaning of your words “I believe I have found myself a suitable husband and must ask her to arrange our betrothal as soon as possible.”

“Oh!” she smiled brightly then “So we might be celebrating tonight.”

To your surprise and confusion, her smile faltered just a bit, her eyes becoming unfocused, before she smiled brightly again.

“With a union forged in fire and blood, the dragon’s nest is put to rest.”

You dared not question her, for Helaena often spoke in riddles, even in your youth. Biding her farewell you went back to your task. You didn’t have to search long though, for you quite literally bumped into your mother and Daemon right as you were turning down the corridor from Helaena’s chambers.

“Mother!” you exclaimed as you helped Daemon steady a once again very pregnant Rhaenyra “There you are!”

“You were looking for me, darling?” she asked.

“Yes.” you cleared your throat, squaring your shoulders “I wish for a husband.”

That seemed to take both of them by surprise, their eyes widening.

“O-Oh!” she smiled then, still confused where this was coming from “And did you have someone in mind?”

“I wish to take Aemond as my husband.”

“Darling.” her face softened in pity as Daemon scoffed “You know the Queen would never allow this union.”

“That’s not all, mother. I think I may have found a way neither she nor the Hand could refuse.”

Rhaenyra and Daemon exchanged a curious glance with one another.

“Let us hear it then.” your step-father encouraged.

“I want Aemond as my husband.” you took a steadying breath, knowing you’d have to argue the next part “And I want him to be King.”

“Absolutely not!” was Daemon’s reaction, while your mother just looked… betrayed. And it broke your heart. You knew what she was thinking, she had just reaffirmed you as her heir, had to fight for it, and you now want to pass that off to someone else entirely?

“Please allow me to explain.”

“Why would you suggest such a thing?! To that cunt, of all people!” Daemon kept on raging, but his words were abruptly cut short as Rhaenyra raised her hand.

“Let her speak.” her tone was firm, and you knew you had to choose your next words carefully to plead your case.

“Word has come to me of a… plot against you as King Viserys’ heir.” her face twitched in anger for just a moment “The Queen and the Hand will try to instate Aegon as King once grandsire passes.”

“What is new?” Daemon laughed, incredulous.

“And the noble houses would back his claim.” you explained “Many will not recognize you as the legitimate heir-”

“But-” your mother tried cutting you off but you continued over her.

“-regardless of the oath they swore years ago. Simply because Aegon has a cock and you do not.” you hated how crass you sounded, but you had to get the point across “And then a bloody civil war would break out, for you would not let this go unpunished, am I wrong?”

Rhaenyra pondered for a moment before nodding, and you took that as a sign to continue.

“A war between us, dragonlords, would absolutely decimate not only our House but also the realm. But a marriage alliance between me, your heir and future Queen, and my uncle might just make them give up on this quest.”

“Otto would never settle for his blood being just consort.” Daemon argued.

“That is why he would not be consort.” you smirked, the catch you were waiting to reveal slipping from your lips.

“You shouldn’t give up your claim and be consort either!” your mother exclaimed.

“I would not do such a thing. I would be the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Both of them looked baffled.

“Now you have lost me.” she said.

“When the time comes, both me and Aemond would be crowned Queen and King, and we would rule together as equals. No consorts.”

Rhaenyra took a step back from surprise, and Daemon looked like he was told the realm’s funniest joke.

“You cannot be serious, tala!” he chuckled, but there was an undertone of disbelief to it.

“It could work.” your mother spoke to herself.

“Rhaenyra, you cannot be entertaining this ridiculous idea!” Daemon turned towards her then, wringing his hands as if to stop himself from grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking some sense into her “It is not tradition!”

“Fuck tradition!” you exclaimed a lot more harshly than you intended, and probably a lot harsher than it was appropriate.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm down enough.

“You being heir over Aegon already breaks tradition as it is. Like I said, many will not see you as legitimate. But even if they do, and you are able to rule, the same thing would happen to me and Jace. But will you make all the great houses swear another oath to you?” Rhaneyra understood where you were going with this “Having a husband to back me up as heir, to rule alongside me, would give me strength in my own claim. If you are already breaking traditions, what is one more, eh?”

“You might want to keep your voice down.” Daemon spoke lowly, and you noticed he was staring at someone “The walls have ears in this Keep.”

From the corner of your eye you saw a familiar figure, and in a moment of panic, grabbed your mother’s hand and pulled her towards the temporary chambers you were housed in. You did not want Aemond to overhear what you had to say, fearful that should anyone hear about this ahead of time it would all crumble to shambles. As Daemon joined you two, shortly after, you continued.

“Please, please mother! Think about it. It might be the only way.”

Rhaenyra was silent. While Daemon looked vexed, but made no further complaints, she looked deep in thought. You knew she knew you were right. She just had to see it for herself.

“It would be easier to convince them if we had the King’s approval. That is why we need to do this tonight, at supper.”

Daemon bristled but didn’t say anything. Your mother on the other hand agreed, even if she believed this was all very rushed.

“Would you be happy though?” she then asked, and it was your turn to be surprised “Marrying Aemond? After everything that has happened?”

You looked between her and Daemon, and for once in your life you were certain of what you wanted.

“Aemond has always been kind to me. Or most of the time, at least.” you shrugged “I believe, with due time, we could put our differences aside and rebuild what we once had. Perhaps even learn to love each other.”

Again, you meant. Learn to love each other again. At least in your case.

“Then it is settled.” she looked determined “We will pitch this proposition tonight.”

A wave of relief washed over you. This could work, genuinely actually work. Perhaps it didn’t have to end in bloodshed like you believed it would. Maybe your family could be whole again. And all of that at the cost of marrying the one you had longed for deeply in your heart once.

“He asked for your hand once, you know.” Rhaenyra broke you out of your trance, a soft smile on her face and a far away look in her eyes, as if she was reminiscing on a fond memory. Daemon had left at some point, leaving you both alone to share this conversation, too deep and personal for anyone else to hear, in private “Right before we left for Dragonstone.”

Your heart clenched in your chest at the revelation. He had wished to marry you as well?

“He said he could make you happy. And I believed him.” she then looked at you, cupping your cheek as pride took over her smile “I believe it still.”

You grasped at her wrist, feeling warm at the love you could feel it emanating from her.

“If you believe you could be happy as well,” she continued “then you have my blessing. That is all I want.”

You nodded, blinking back tears.

“I do. I will be very happy.”

She nodded then, pulling you into her arms. In the safety of your mother’s embrace, you finally let yourself relax. Your fate was yours to shape how you saw fit, and you intended to make the most of it.

And you would.

High Valyrian translations: - mandianna - niece (older sister’s son or daughter) - qȳbor - uncle (mother’s younger brother) - tala - daughter (meant here affectionately, not by blood, as there are no terms for step-relative in High Valyrian)

Tag List:

@callsignwidow

@sleephereicome

@bitchassgoose

@voguiing

@dibutw

@fruityvampslayer

@garden-in-the-rain

@queen-of-elves

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x f!reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen x velaryon!reader #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond targaryen x niece!reader #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic

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speakergame · 10 months ago

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Progress Update - 3/4/24

Hello and happy March!

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? 😅 Well, I finally have some good news for you this time: I have some actual news!

I'm happy to be able to announce at last that an update is on its way! I’ve still got some assets to make and code cleanup and testing to finish, but I should finally have something to show you soon.

I’ll put a cut at the end of this and go into more detail about the what and why of what I’ve been working on during this long and unintended hiatus, but the tl;dr is that I hope to have an update out by the end of the month, and that said update will break any saves made in Chapter 4. Unfortunate, but unavoidable, since Chapter 4 had to be recoded from the beginning 😞

I just want to thank all of you once again for sticking with me through my extended silence! Especially to my patrons who’ve put up with me putting everything on pause month after month while I dealt with my real life shit, and to everyone who’s sent me kind and supportive messages to let me know Speaker hasn’t been forgotten. It really means a lot to me.

Okay, enough of that sappy shit! I’m gonna get back to work finishing this up 😁 I’ll put out another update later this month once I have a more definite release date.

Thank you all for reading! I hope you’re having a fantastic 2024 so far, and that the rest of the week treats you kindly. See y’all soon! 💙💙💙

(For those who want a more detailed breakdown on what’s been happening and what to expect, hit the readmore)

I won’t go into the personal life stuff I’ve been dealing with this past year that has slowed down my work, but as far as the actual game goes:

To put it simply, I just wasn’t happy with it. Some of it could be because of how many times I had to reread the same section while I was coding the scenes that would’ve taken place after the last update, but no matter how much I edited or rearranged it, I didn’t like how that scene turned out. There was something… formulaic that had been happening with the way I always laid out scenes, and a bit of stagnation in the story, character, and relationship development that bothered me.

So I rewrote it. And when I still didn’t like it, I rewrote it again. And I still didn’t like it. I thought about scrapping the whole thing on more than one occasion as I struggled to get out of the corner I’d written myself into.

Inspiration finally struck at the beginning of this year, thanks in part to another interactive novel I follow, and I really like the direction I’ve taken it now.

Instead of the RO split scenes happening where the last one left off, Speaker, Seer, and Gavin are gonna have a chat about Things™ to move the next story arc forward. Then Speaker will get some downtime, by themself at first and then in an extended scene split with the RO of their choosing.

All the Big Plot Things that were going to happen in Chapter 4 will be moved to Chapter 5 instead, and 4 will be a bit more of a filler episode. A deep breath before the plunge, as it were.

This split won’t just be a quick conversation/reaction from the RO, but a full on different direction for the rest of the chapter based on who you choose. Most of them will involve leaving the house; all of them will involve actual one-on-one time (or one-on-two time, as the case may be) away from the others. And though romance isn’t required, all of them will have the potential to really move the romance forward if you so choose. One or two might even have a lock-in choice (maybe. I’m not 100 percent on that, so don’t hold me to it)

These scenes won’t be in the next update, because they’re all very complex, but the update will definitely have the Seer chat and at least some of the by-yourself stuff. The update after will have the rest of the alone time stuff (including the clothes/body CC you’ve all been waiting for), and then the one after will start the RO scenes. I think.

I may actually split the RO scenes into separate updates, and let my darlings over at Patreon vote for the order they’re released. That way I can focus on one at a time instead of trying to split my attention six ways at once.

Okay, that’s enough rambling for me today. Time to get back to work! Still got a lot to get done before this is ready, but it’s so close now.

#speaker game #progress update #so happy to finally have some progress to update about XD #maybe I can finally start answering some asks again too and fully resurrect this poor blog

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authorhjk1 · 6 months ago

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The information about the series and the main story are at the bottom. Have fun reading!

The Kims

Kim Taeyeon

| |

Kim Minjeong Kim Jisoo

Kim Minji

The Jungs

Jessica Jung ---- Jung Ho

| |

Jung Eunha Jang Wonyoung

The Lees

Lee Soonkyu ---- Lee Juyun

| | |

Lee Ahin Lee Seoyeon Lee Chaeryeong

The Hwangs

Tiffany Hwang

Hwang Yeji

The Kims

Kim Hyeoyeon

Kim Yeri

The Kwons

Kwon Yuri ---- Kwon Jiho

| |

Kwon Eunbi Kwon Jin

The Chois

Choi Sooyoung ---- Choi Hoon

Choi Arin

The Ims

Im Yoona ---- Kim Ho Dong+ ----- Im Mina+

| |

Kim Minju Im Nayeon

The Seos

Seo Joohyun

| |

Reader Seo Seri

Other idols:

None so far

(Sry, I'm not a great painter, but this should give you an idea of the neighberhood.)

Main story of SNSD Village

Season 1

Information

Episode 1 : Pilot

Episode 2 : A busy Sunday

- I won't take requests for this series. At least for now. I might incorporate some of the requests I already got into the story though.

- There will be at least one poll after every chapter. Your vote will influence the direction of the story and the reader's development as well. The posts which include the polls will only stay up as long as the polls are open. I don't want my whole blog full of polls.

-Everyone, except for the Reader's 4 year old sister, Seri, is over 18. The age of every idol varies from the one in real life.

- There is going to be a main story. You can find the links of the chapters above. Once I've written a certain amount of the main stories, there will be opportunities to dive deeper into the respective families stories. You can find the links to those underneath the family trees.

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svt-luna · 4 months ago

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ʚིᵋ ⋆ GAME CATERERS X SVT ࣪ ! ˓ ౨ৎ ࣪˖ ─── episode 1-4.

Game Caterers x SEVENTEEN

synopsis: Episode 1-4! The continuation of the character quiz which leads to the epic conclusion. Will the members of SEVENTEEN be able to eat... at all?

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST

╰౨ৎ fan reactions ╰౨ৎ game caterers masterlist

[added captions are in brackets] ღ

bold dialogues are spoken in english ღ

The members of SEVENTEEN gathered around the table, the atmosphere buzzing with anticipation as they prepared for the next round. The tension from the previous rounds lingered, but there was also an undercurrent of excitement.

Dino, always the optimistic maknae, voiced the collective determination with a firm, "We can do it." His words served as a rallying cry, boosting their morale as they readied themselves for the challenge ahead. The room was filled with the familiar sounds of laughter, light-hearted banter, and the occasional exclamation.

[Round 7]

PD Na, ever the efficient host, wasted no time as his eyes landed on Mingyu, the first in line for this round. With a slight nod, he showed the picture to Mingyu and began the countdown, "1, 2, 3."

“Paik Jong Won,” Mingyu answered confidently, his voice strong and assured. The members erupted in praise, their trust in Mingyu’s ability paying off.

[100% accuracy so far]

"You got it," PD Na confirmed with a small smile before swiftly moving on to the next in line— Luna. She leaned back slightly in her chair, her posture relaxed but her focus intense. The picture was revealed to her, and PD Na began counting down once more, "1, 2, 3."

“Yoo Jae Suk,” Luna responded without hesitation. The room filled with the sound of clapping and compliments, a chorus of “Good job!” and “Nice one!” echoing from all sides.

[Another Ace]

“Correct,” PD Na acknowledged, his approval clear as he moved on to Dino. The youngest member leaned forward, ready and waiting as the picture was shown to him.

"1, 2, 3."

“Suzy,” Dino answered quickly, his voice full of confidence.

“Good!” Dokyeom exclaimed, his excitement palpable as he clapped enthusiastically for Dino’s success.

Without a moment’s delay, PD Na moved to Seungkwan, the next in line. The picture was revealed, and the countdown began, "1, 2, 3."

“Yang Sehyung,” Seungkwan answered with absolute confidence, standing up as he did, a wide grin spreading across his face.

“You got it,” PD Na confirmed once again, and the group continued to cheer for each other, the atmosphere thick with tension and excitement.

Next in line was S.Coups, and as the picture was shown, the rest of the members all started muttering the answer to themselves, a collective whisper that filled the room. But S.Coups seemed to struggle, the pressure clearly mounting as he tried to recall the name.

"1, 2, 3…" PD Na counted down, and S.Coups, visibly flustered, stuttered, “Song… Song…” But it was too late, and he fell to his knees in defeat as the members around him groaned in frustration, their collective shout of the correct answer nearly deafening.

"Yoon!"

[All together]

Seungkwan and Jeonghan, who were seated on either side of him, couldn’t help but smack him on the back in mock frustration, yelling the answer into the air, their voices a mixture of exasperation and humor.

Jeonghan turned to Vernon, who was watching the scene unfold with a knowing smile and gestured toward S.Coups. “See? I was right. It’ll end here,” he said with a resigned shrug, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

[It's over]

After struggling to answer, he dropped to his knees in despair, a dramatic gesture that drew collective amusement from his fellow members. As if on cue, they began to sing a song by the artist whose name S.Coups had failed to recall, their voices merging into a playful chorus that only heightened the hilarity of the situation.

[Teasing]

['REALLY REALLY' by Winner, written and composed by Yoon]

Meanwhile, Vernon, ever the quiet observer, seized the opportunity to remove a dish from the table. He stood up, grabbed a container without a word, and discreetly took it away, knowing full well the group would soon be too distracted by their leader’s antics to notice.

S.Coups, still on his knees, tried to salvage the moment by bowing and saying, "Who… Hello, Yoon," before pointing behind him, gesturing vaguely as he added, "Someone said Song."

Jeonghan, quick to rebut, replied, "Who said Song? We all said Kang," gesturing toward the members who had tried to help S.Coups by muttering the correct answer. The room erupted in laughter as S.Coups collapsed onto Jeonghan’s legs in mock defeat, clinging to them as if they were his last hope before he finally returned to his chair, laughing at his own mistake.

PD Na, ever the playful instigator, mockingly chided S.Coups, "Still, if it was someone from a different field or a senior, you can just feel sorry, but he's a fellow singer."

[He's a fellow singer]

Luna, always quick with a playful jab, joined in, "You're terrible at this," her words earning a nod of agreement from Jeonghan, who added with a grin, "You're not good at this."

[Bunny power]

Mingyu, unable to resist, teased, "I bet if Seung Yoon had to answer you, he wouldn't get it."

S.Coups, still laughing, shook his head in agreement. "Right. He wouldn't get me."

"I can ask him now," PD Na offered, leaning into the joke.

"I'm sure he wouldn't," S.Coups said, his laughter bubbling up once more.

Seungkwan, ever the sharp-witted one, deadpanned from beside S.Coups, "Maybe because you're not as famous," causing the room to explode with laughter and a chorus of "Oohs" at the playful burn.

S.Coups stood up, chuckling as he shook his head in mock defeat.

As the members prepared for round eight, the room buzzed with anticipation. They began to shuffle their seats, deciding that S.Coups, after his earlier blunder, should go last. Woozi was moved to the front, while the rest adjusted their positions according to their preferences.

[S.COUPS moves to the back]

[WOOZI moves to the front]

Amidst the reshuffling, Luna found herself seated in the center, between Dino and Wonwoo. Dino was calm and ready, but Wonwoo, too nervous to sit, paced back and forth behind Luna, anxiously preparing for his turn.

PD Na observed the new arrangement and turned to Woozi with a hint of expectation. "Yes. I think Woozi will actually be good at it. Because you said you never leave home. What would he do at home?"

"I’ve been focusing the whole time," Woozi replied, his usual calm demeanor showing a hint of tension.

"How's your score so far?" PD Na inquired, curious about Woozi’s self-assessment.

"It wasn't high. Honestly, I've been practicing this quietly. This is really hard," Woozi admitted with a small smile. Determined, he added, "I'll do my very best."

From his seat, Mingyu leaned back casually and offered some advice. "Relax. Lean back. Just do it. Do your best."

Woozi, catching onto Mingyu’s laid-back approach, mimicked his posture, sitting arrogantly as he replied, "I know them all."

Luna, sitting comfortably in the center, couldn’t help but add, "The Kim Mingyu method really does work," recognizing that confidence was a big part of the game.

[New method for the quiz: 'Kim Mingyu Method']

Mingyu, eager to reinforce his point, pointed at himself and asked Woozi, "Look. Who am I?"

"Mingyu," Woozi answered without hesitation.

"That’s it. Who’s this?" Mingyu pointed at Seungkwan.

"Seungkwan," Woozi replied, catching onto the simplicity of Mingyu’s strategy.

"That’s how you play," Mingyu said, grinning.

Woozi, now fully engaged in the playful banter, pointed at Jeonghan and confidently said, "Jeonghan."

"That’s right. Good," Mingyu encouraged, enjoying the light-hearted moment.

PD Na, seeing the playful yet effective strategy, added, "Keep that tone."

[Done practicing]

[Round 8]

PD Na, with a mischievous smile, reminded Woozi, “Say it clearly,” before revealing the next picture.

“1, 2, 3,” he counted down.

“IU,” Woozi announced confidently, and the room erupted in cheers and applause.

[Ji Hoon did it]

[As if he was a baby taking his first step]

“We filmed together once before,” Woozi added, a small smile of pride tugging at his lips.

[Touched]

“You were on ‘IU's Palette’,” Hoshi pointed out, bringing up the show where Woozi and IU had a chance to interact.

“We almost became friends,” Seungkwan chimed in, playfully adding to the banter.

Mingyu, eager to keep the momentum going, asked, “Can we proceed?”

“Sure,” Seungkwan and Jeonghan nodded in agreement, their excitement palpable.

PD Na then turned to Mingyu, showing him the next picture.

“1, 2, 3,” he counted down.

“Cho Jinwoong,” Mingyu declared as he stood up, visibly amazed at his own accuracy.

[His shoulders are reaching 61cm]

“Good job, Mingyu,” Dokyeom praised him, his words echoed by the other members’ cheers.

Without wasting time, PD Na moved on to Seungkwan, showing the next picture.

“1, 2, 3,” PD Na counted down.

“Joo Hyun Young!” Seungkwan answered with exaggerated enthusiasm, jumping to his feet as the room exploded with cheers once more.

Next was Jeonghan, who raised his hands, “Wait. Wait. Wait,” he said, trying to keep his cool before PD Na revealed the picture.

[Keeping inner peace]

“1, 2, 3,” PD Na counted down.

“Joo Woo Jae,” Jeonghan answered, and the room’s energy reached a new high as half the members jumped up in excitement, their voices overlapping in an intense chorus of celebration.

“My goodness. We’ll get to play,” someone exclaimed.

“It’s coming!”

“Nice!”

“We have hope.”

“You were lucky,” PD Na teased Jeonghan, but his eyes were already on Dino, showing him the next picture.

As Dino saw the picture of Seungkwan, Jeonghan, and Luna, who were sitting on either side of him, instinctively covered their mouths, trying to hide their whispering.

“Boo Seungkwan,” they both murmured quietly, just in case Dino needed the extra nudge.

[Mom and Dad were saying the answer just in case Dino doesn't get it]

“1, 2, 3,” PD Na counted down.

“Seungkwan,” Dino laughed as he answered, and everyone cheered as Seungkwan grinned proudly, seeing his own picture.

[He got his own picture]

Luna was next. Despite the excitement and the loud cheers from the members, half of whom were now standing, she remained seated with a nervous smile, her fingers playing with the necklace around her neck. Her eyes were fixed on PD Na, focused yet anxious.

[The 'Kim Mingyu Method' is lost on her]

Jeonghan noticed her nervousness immediately. With a gentle yet firm voice, he raised his hand, “Wait. Wait. Wait,” signaling for everyone to calm down. The members, sensing the seriousness in Jeonghan’s tone, quickly quieted down, creating a space for Luna to concentrate.

PD Na then revealed the next picture, showing a familiar animated character.

“1, 2, 3,” he counted down.

“Elsa!” Luna jumped from her seat, excitement flooding her voice.

The room erupted in the loudest cheers yet. They had hit the halfway mark— a feat that had never happened before.

[They reached halfway for the first time]

PD Na moved on to Wonwoo, who was still behind his seat, gripping the backrest with a determined expression. The tension in the room was palpable as all eyes were on him, the silence amplifying the anticipation.

“1, 2, 3,” PD Na counted down, revealing the next picture.

“Doolie,” Wonwoo answered calmly, his voice steady.

The room exploded into cheers as the members who had already answered jumped to their feet. Vernon stood there, wide-eyed, his fist raised to his mouth in awe. The accomplishment was significant, and the energy in the room was electric.

[They're on the peak]

“It’s Vernon’s turn,” PD Na announced, as the focus shifted to Vernon. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement as PD Na showed him the next picture.

“1, 2, 3,” PD Na counted down.

“Kang Daniel,” Vernon answered without hesitation, drawing even more cheers from the group.

Dokyeom, who was next in line, stood up and braced himself, looking like he was about to tackle a lion. His eyes were wide with concentration, his body tense with determination. The pressure was mounting, not just for him, but for the remaining members who hadn’t gone yet. A chorus of murmurs filled the room, a mix of anxiety and encouragement.

“My goodness.”

“It’s coming.”

“Please don’t reach this far.”

The members whispered among themselves, the pressure of the upcoming turns weighing heavily on them.

PD Na showed Dokyeom the picture, counting down with his usual cadence. “1, 2, 3,” he said.

“Calm Down Man,” Dino whispered suddenly, magically appearing next to Dokyeom, relaying him the answer.

“Calm Down Man,” Dokyeom repeated, his voice betraying a hint of nervousness, but he managed to answer just in time.

Cheers erupted once more, though PD Na, unaware of the slight cheating, added, “You got it. It’s a warning. You were late.”

Minghao was next, and the atmosphere shifted as everyone turned their attention to him. The tension was palpable, especially between Minghao and Jun, who were holding hands in front of them. Their fingers were interlocked, and their faces were a mix of determination and sheer terror. It was an amusing sight that made PD Na laugh out loud.

[2 cats are shivering]

“Good luck. You can do it,” Jun encouraged Minghao, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

“You can do it,” Dokyeom echoed, his voice full of confidence, trying to boost Minghao’s morale.

“You were good at it,” Minghao said to Dokyeom, his voice a little shaky but sincere.

Luna, sitting nearby, couldn’t help but soften at the sight of the two holding hands. “Oh my… They are so cute,” she remarked, her voice filled with affection. “It’s okay. Calm down, Haohao, Huihui,” she added, using their affectionate nicknames.

PD Na pointed at Minghao and Jun, chuckling as he observed their position. “They’re holding hands,” he noted with amusement.

Minghao, despite his nerves, managed to make a small joke. “Give me the easy one,” he said, his voice half-serious, half-pleading.

“Here we go,” PD Na responded, readying the picture. Minghao leaned forward, his focus sharpening as he prepared to answer.

“Give me the easy one,” Minghao repeated, his tone almost like a mantra to himself.

“1, 2, 3,” PD Na counted down, revealing the image.

“NewJeans,” Minghao answered with a confident smile.

The room erupted in praise and relief. “Good job!” Luna exclaimed, proud of Minghao.

“Nice,” Dokyeom said, genuinely surprised as he pulled Minghao into a hug.

“It’s too small to see,” Vernon noted, still processing how close the call was.

“He covered Minji’s face,” Mingyu added, pointing out the difficulty of the image.

“I thought that was S.E.S.,” S.Coups admitted, which made Seungkwan scoff with laughter.

[But The8 was happy with the question]

PD Na’s voice cut through the cheers, bringing everyone back to focus. “Among two obstacles, you just passed one small obstacle. You have the big one left.” His words hung in the air, heightening the anticipation for the next turn.

[S.Coups is the Himalayas]

The members collectively turned to Jun, who was up next. PD Na held up the next picture, and the countdown began. “1, 2, 3…”

[Hesitant]

“Karina,” Jun answered, his voice slightly hesitant, but sure enough.

[He was late]

A moment of silence passed before the room exploded. The members stood up, pointing at Jun and shouting to PD Na, insisting that he got it right. Their excitement was palpable, filling the room with a renewed sense of energy.

“I almost said it's wrong,” PD Na admitted, a grin spreading across his face.

But Jun wasn’t done. “I can do the dance,” he said, and without missing a beat, he got on the ground to demonstrate.

['Black Mamba']

As he began to move, the familiar beats of 'Black Mamba' came to life in his mind, and he sang along, “‘Black Mamba’,” while performing the iconic choreography. His fluid movements and confident delivery had everyone laughing and clapping in appreciation.

Seungkwan, not wanting to be outdone, jumped in with another song, teasing Jun to keep going. “‘I’m on the next level’,” he sang, his voice carrying the tune as Jun seamlessly transitioned into the dance for 'Next Level,' his body following the rhythm effortlessly.

PD Na, watching Jun nail the dance with ease, confirmed with a nod, “A warning.”

[One more warning]

PD Na’s voice rang out, breaking the intense atmosphere that had settled over the group. "Now you have three members left," he announced, his gaze shifting to Joshua, who was now on his knees, Hoshi, who had his hands clasped together in a fervent prayer, and S.Coups, who was leaning forward with an intense focus. The tension was palpable.

[Urgh/Performance Team leader/Leader]

"This is crazy," Mingyu muttered, glancing nervously at the remaining players.

PD Na nodded in agreement. "From Joshua to S.Coups, we'll go fast. If S.Coups gets the answer, you win."

“Why am I getting so nervous?” S.Coups said, his hands now clasped to his chest as if he could physically steady the pounding of his heart. “He’s selecting the question,” he commented, watching as PD Na prepared to reveal the next image.

Joshua’s turn was up. PD Na showed him the picture and began the countdown. “1, 2, 3.”

“Cocomong,” Joshua answered quickly, his voice filled with a mix of certainty and calmness.

“You got it,” PD Na confirmed.

A collective gasp filled the room, followed by a chorus of excited murmurs. “Is that right? Is it Cocomong?” S.Coups asked, still in disbelief.

“It’s Cocomong,” Joshua repeated with a nod, confidence growing in his voice.

“Isn’t that Chocoemong?” Mingyu asked, a frown of confusion creasing his face.

“What?” Luna and Jeonghan simultaneously whipped around to face Mingyu, their expressions of shock and disbelief making him laugh sheepishly.

[Appalled]

“Chocoemong is what you drink after drinking,” Seungkwan corrected Mingyu with a deadpan expression, earning a round of laughter from the others.

PD Na gave a final nod. “You got it. The answer is Cocomong.”

With that confirmation, Hoshi jumped to his feet, his hands still clasped together as if in prayer. The tension in the room skyrocketed. “Hey, be quiet,” S.Coups hissed, trying to focus as they readied for Hoshi’s turn.

[Noisy people: S.Coups, The8, DK]

The members quickly rallied around Hoshi, trying to calm his nerves. “Let’s go, Hoshi,”

“Relax,”

“You got this,”

“The tiger’s eyes.”

[Next is the tiger's eyes, Hoshi]

PD Na revealed the next picture, and the countdown began. “1, 2, 3…”

There was a long, excruciating pause as Hoshi’s mind raced, but no words came out. Finally, he collapsed to his knees, letting out an agonized “Ahh!” that echoed around the room.

The members burst into laughter as PD Na’s voice cut through the chaos. “Wrong!” he declared, his tone full of mock disappointment.

Hoshi finally found his voice, albeit too late. “Lee Seok Hoon,” he muttered, now fully aware of his mistake.

[Too late]

The room buzzed with a chaotic mixture of reactions as Hoshi remained on his knees, the reality of his mistake settling in. Some members were in shock, wide-eyed and mouths agape, unable to believe that Hoshi had fumbled his answer. Others reacted with visible pain, feeling the weight of the near victory slipping away. Some rushed to Hoshi's side, offering comfort and pats on the back, trying to soothe his obvious distress. But there were also those who couldn’t help but laugh, their laughter mingling with the groans and sighs in the room.

[While everyone's in despair,]

[someone's happy]

Amidst the flurry of reactions, S.Coups felt an overwhelming sense of relief wash over him. For once, it wasn't him who had cracked under pressure. A grin spread across his face as he stood up and made his way towards the swarm of members surrounding Hoshi. "It wasn't me. It wasn't me," he repeated gleefully, pointing at Hoshi, who was still on the ground. The weight of the moment had shifted entirely off his shoulders. "It was him."

[I'm happy that I didn't get it wrong]

[He got it wrong]

Now, all of them were standing, eyes fixated on Hoshi, who was still kneeling in defeat. The room was buzzing, but S.Coups’ relief was evident.

Luna, her heart softening at the sight of Hoshi’s guilty expression, went over to him, peeking through the crowd. “It’s okay,” she said softly, her chuckle light and gentle. “It’s alright.”

Hoshi glanced up at her, still looking remorseful, but her words seemed to bring a small amount of comfort.

Vernon and Mingyu stepped forward, each taking one of Hoshi’s arms and helping him to his feet. “It’s okay,” Vernon reassured him with a smile, while Mingyu patted his back. Hoshi tried to smile, though Dino’s laughter, which echoed loudly through the room, made it difficult to stay serious.

[Get up, warrior]

[You're pardoned]

[We can just remove the food]

“It’s okay,” Jeonghan said as he walked over to the table, glancing at the remaining food with a sigh. “Let’s remove yogurt.” He nodded towards Seungkwan, who quickly went over and removed the container from the table, a sign of moving past the small defeat.

[Yogurt is out] [4 dishes left]

As the group settled down for the next round, a sense of determination and camaraderie filled the air. Minghao was the first to break the silence, his voice calm but optimistic. "We see hope."

"We saw possibility," Dokyeom added, nodding in agreement.

"We reached very far," Jeonghan chimed in, acknowledging and reflecting on their progress.

Seungkwan, always quick with a response, said, "We almost had it."

Mingyu, nodded and said, "We just did pretty well."

Woozi, however, wasn’t ready to let Hoshi off the hook just yet. "I don't get how he couldn't get it," he said, shaking his head slightly.

"I agree," Mingyu said, echoing Woozi’s sentiment.

"That he didn't get Lee Seok Hoon?" Seungkwan clarified.

"Yes. Even I knew it," Woozi replied, still a bit perplexed.

"It means he didn't watch the show Seungkwan was on," S.Coups teased, trying to lighten the mood a little.

"Wonwoo and Minghao were on it too," Mingyu pointed out.

"Even if you didn’t, you should know," Jeonghan said, still dwelling on Hoshi’s missed answer.

"All of us were there," Woozi added, his tone a mix of understanding and disbelief.

Luna, who had been quietly listening to the conversation, couldn’t hold back any longer. "No– ya! Hoshi knew him. He answered right, he just ran out of time 'cause PD Na doesn’t want us to eat," she scolded them, her tone both protective and teasing. Her defense of Hoshi made PD Na laugh, clearly amused by her assessment.

[Bunny no. 1 defending the tiger... hamster(?)]

"I know him…" Hoshi trailed off, his voice a mix of frustration and regret.

"But you couldn't recall it," Luna finished for him, nodding sympathetically. "It's alright."

"I understand," S.Coups said, his voice gentle as he tried to ease the tension in the room.

As they prepared to move on to the next round, the atmosphere in the room was a mix of anticipation and amusement. PD Na addressed the group with a hint of strategy, "If you're starting with S.Coups, you want to deal with the problem first and end it."

"It means we’ll get rid of the lemon," Seungkwan quipped, his comment making everyone burst into laughter.

"The lemon?" S.Coups stood up, chuckling in disbelief at Seungkwan's playful jab.

"Don't be like that," Dino said, trying to keep a straight face.

"Just admit it," Seungkwan teased further, causing S.Coups to laugh even more, shaking his head.

[Our success is what matters]

"Let’s start. S.Coups will go first," PD Na announced, setting the stage for the next challenge.

"Give me an easy one, please," S.Coups leaned forward, his voice a mix of pleading and nervousness.

PD Na, with a grin, added, "I think he should go talk to Jeonghan," suggesting that S.Coups might need some counsel from Jeonghan, which made the two laugh in agreement.

[The counseling office is always open]

"Chill out," Jeonghan told S.Coups with a calm, reassuring tone.

Mingyu jumped in, trying to help with his own method of deduction. "You know them. Like Seungkwan, Jeonghan, Jiyeon," he pointed out, using the members as examples to help S.Coups focus.

"The Kim Mingyu Method," Luna said, naming Mingyu’s approach with a grin.

"That worked really well," Seungkwan and Woozi agreed, finding humor in the method.

"Who's this? Jeonghan. Jiyeon, Wonwoo… Dokyeom. That's what you do," Mingyu continued, trying to show how easy it could be if S.Coups just followed his lead.

"You got Dokyeom confused," Wonwoo chuckled, pointing out Mingyu's mistake, which made Mingyu giggle in response.

"Are you ready?" PD Na asked, bringing the attention back to S.Coups.

[With ease]

[Round 9]

A chorus of encouragements erupted from the members.

"Relax."

"Chill out."

"It's easy."

"You can do it."

"Here we go," PD Na said, building up the suspense as he showed S.Coups the picture and began counting down, "1, 2, 3."

S.Coups stared at the picture, his expression a mix of disbelief and resignation. "Who’s that?" he asked, chuckling as if he had already given up.

"Wrong!" PD Na declared.

All eyes were on S.Coups, who stood in shock, staring at the picture in disbelief. He had been given another easy question, yet once again, he found himself unable to answer it. Instead of groans, the room was filled with silent, stunned expressions as they tried to process what had just happened.

[Shocking]

Mingyu couldn't stay seated any longer. He shot up from his chair, making an exaggerated hand movement as he exclaimed, "Ya! I can even see it from walking past."

"Kim Woo Bin," Jun stated, turning to S.Coups with a mix of surprise and concern.

"Kim Woo Bin," Dokyeom echoed, shaking his head accompanied by a pained chuckle.

"You need to stop drinking," Seungkwan deadpanned, his sharp comment causing both PD Na and S.Coups to burst into laughter.

Luna, who had been observing quietly with her arms crossed, finally spoke up, her tone playful yet stern. "I don’t think we are playing the character quiz…" Her statement made the members turn to her with amused yet confused expressions.

[What?]

"He's the mafia," Luna continued, pointing at S.Coups with a chuckle, a reference to their iconic Mafia game from the 'Don't Lie' segments in ‘Going Seventeen’.

The realization hit the members all at once, and they erupted into hysterical laughter. The idea that S.Coups, their leader, was somehow sabotaging their game was too funny not to embrace.

As the laughter continued to fill the room, Mingyu was clearly the most amused by Luna’s joke. He laughed with his whole body, doubling over as he let out deep, hearty laughs. Unable to contain his amusement, Mingyu got up from his seat, making his way over to Luna. With his hands raised high, he eagerly sought a high five, which Luna gladly returned, their hands clapping together in triumph.

But Mingyu’s laughter didn’t stop there. As he collapsed in hysterics, he fell forward, his head landing on Luna’s lap before he slid down to the floor in front of her, still laughing uncontrollably.

[Mingyu finds it the funniest...]

[Watch ‘Going Seventeen’ to understand why]

Hoshi stood up dramatically, covering his mouth with his hand as he stared at S.Coups with wide eyes, adding to the hilarity. "S.Coups is the mafia!" he declared, his voice filled with mock horror.

The laughter grew louder as the members joined in the joke, shouting in unison, "Let’s kill him! Let’s kill him!" They mimicked the thumbs-down movement they used in the 'Don't Lie' game, fully embracing the absurdity of the situation.

[Let's remove a dish]

As the laughter finally began to subside, the members of SEVENTEEN shifted their focus back to the game, this time discussing which dish to remove from the table. Joshua, ever practical, suggested, "There are two kinds of meat. How about we remove the spicy stir-fried pork?"

Seungkwan, still in a playful mood, stood up and hovered his hand over the LA galbi. "Would you warm it up again? LA galbi is expensive," he reasoned, addressing the crew with a serious expression, his voice tinged with concern.

[Spicy stir-fried pork versus LA galbi]

Jeonghan, always looking out for the younger members, suggested, "Then remove the acorn jelly. Dino hates it."

Luna, nodding in agreement, added, "Dino hates it."

Vernon, weighing in on the discussion, said, "Right. Let's remove the spicy stir-fried pork."

But Luna, without realizing it, pouted slightly as she responded, "No, why the spicy stir-fried pork?"

Joshua chimed in, "There are two kinds of meat anyway."

Determined to protect the dish, Mingyu said, "Remove the acorn jelly."

Seungkwan, still standing at the table, his hands hovering indecisively between the two dishes, almost whined, "Between acorn jelly and spicy stir-fried pork, what's it going to be?"

"Acorn jelly," Jeonghan said firmly. "The youngest doesn't like acorn jelly."

[Strong reason]

"Really? You don't? Then let's remove acorn jelly," Vernon agreed, sealing the fate of the dish. With that, the acorn jelly was finally removed.

[Acorn jelly is out] [3 dishes left]

As the group settled back into their places, Jeonghan, ever the contrarian, remarked, "Isn't spicy stir-fried pork better than LA galbi?"

Joshua, eyebrows raised in disbelief, questioned, "Really?"

Wonwoo, always practical, chimed in, "Apparently, LA galbi is expensive."

Seungkwan, ready to move forward, returned to his seat and said, "We still have two kinds of meat left. Let's play first."

Mingyu chuckled, adding, "They'll be gone in no time," referring to how quickly the dishes would vanish even before they would start eating.

[Gone in no time]

Before the next round began, some of the members shuffled their seats again, trying to find their optimal positions. Luna ended up seated between Jeonghan and Seungkwan on the right side of the line. Jeonghan then asked, "So? Do we start from here? Or there?"

Mingyu, with a grin, suggested, "I think S.Coups should go last. All thirteen people get to experience it, and S.Coups will end it by dying," which made Luna burst into laughter.

Woozi, catching on to the plan, swapped seats with S.Coups, who begrudgingly accepted his fate and moved to the end of the line. "Shall we?" Woozi asked, settling into S.Coups’ former spot.

[They quietly send S.Coups to the end]

"We'll start from here again," Seungkwan decided, pointing to the other end of the line where the round would begin.

As Woozi took S.Coups' seat, he noticed a yogurt from the container sitting there, looking confused. "Hey…" he said, holding up the yogurt, which made both Jeonghan and Luna glance over with mild curiosity.

Seungkwan, immediately recognizing the yogurt, reached for it and said, "Give it to me." It had been his seat before, and he'd sneakily taken the yogurt and hidden it for himself.

[It was Seungkwan's seat]

Jeonghan and Luna remained unfazed, though clearly amused as they watched the scene unfold. Woozi handed the yogurt over to Seungkwan, asking, "Why are you keeping yogurt?"

[He saved yogurt for later]

Luna, with a smirk, decided to help Seungkwan out, "It fell earlier."

Jeonghan, always quick to join in, added, "It was on the floor."

Seungkwan, stumbling over his words, tried to justify himself, "It said it's got patented probiotics."

Wonwoo, ever observant, asked, "When did you take it?"

Minghao, shaking his head with a sigh, joined in with a half-serious, half-playful tone, "Be honest."

The entire group burst into laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation, Seungkwan finally admitting, "Sorry," as he sheepishly held onto the yogurt.

[We pursue earnest and bright society]

As they braced for the next round the atmosphere in the room was a mixture of anticipation and tension. PD Na announced, "Here we go. Dino is going first," signaling the start of what everyone hoped would be a successful round.

Wonwoo, still pacing behind his seat, muttered, "I should practice," he said as he tried to prepare himself mentally.

[Round 10]

The screen flickered as PD Na displayed the picture for Dino. "1, 2, 3…" he counted down, giving Dino his cue. Dino pointed at the picture, but to everyone’s surprise, no words came out of his mouth. His mind seemed to have drawn a blank at the crucial moment.

[Say something]

"Wrong!" PD Na exclaimed, breaking the silence with a mix of surprise and disappointment. The other members turned to Dino, their expressions ranging from disbelief to shock.

Vernon, unable to contain himself, shot up from his seat and pointed at the youngest member. "How can you miss this?" he asked incredulously, his voice rising.

"You always… you always copy him," Wonwoo chimed in, echoing Vernon’s disbelief.

"This is your special skill," Vernon added, still in shock, "You copy him all the time."

Dino covered his mouth with his hand, his face reflecting his own disbelief. "Why can't I remember all of a sudden?" he murmured, almost to himself, the realization of his mistake slowly sinking in.

PD Na turned to Hoshi, who was next in line, to see if he knew the answer. "Hoshi, who's this?"

"Song Kang Ho," Hoshi responded without missing a beat, his voice confident and sure.

"He's your special skill," Wonwoo repeated, emphasizing Dino's usual talent.

[There must be something about his special skill]

"You should show him," Hoshi suggested, gesturing towards PD Na with a smile.

Dino chuckled, shaking his head. "No," he said, reluctant to demonstrate his impression.

[What is it?]

"Show him," Mingyu encouraged, nodding his head with a grin.

"Which one?" Dino asked as he slowly made his way to the center of the room, the focus of everyone's attention now squarely on him.

"The one that gets censored," Wonwoo said with a playful smirk, recalling a particularly notorious impression that is not suitable for TV.

"He'll censor it," Mingyu reassured Dino, trying to coax him into performing.

"What is it?" PD Na chuckled, his curiosity piqued by the group's reaction. "What is it? You made me so curious."

"It might not be suitable for the show," Seungkwan interjected, standing up to explain on Dino's behalf.

"If it can't be aired, we'll edit it out and give you one more chance," PD Na explained, his tone both understanding and encouraging. The members, realizing they might get another shot at saving the round, began to cheer and clap, urging Dino to go for it.

[We'll give Dino one more chance]

"You have to do it," they chanted, their enthusiasm infectious.

"The viewers won't know what it is, but they'll assume it was funny," PD Na added with a chuckle, trying to put Dino at ease as he stood there, torn between hesitation and the desire to redeem himself.

Dino hesitated for a moment, then decided to explain his upcoming performance. "In 'The Host'…" he began, using his hands to gesture as he spoke.

"Song Kang Ho?" PD Na interjected, seeking confirmation.

"Yes," the members responded in unison, nodding.

Dino continued, "He has to go save his daughter, but he gets caught in the hospital. They start injecting things into his brain for a biopsy. I'll reenact that emergency situation." He mimicked the injection process with his hand gestures, painting a vivid picture of the scene he was about to recreate.

"He impersonates the actor but doesn’t know the name," PD Na commented, shaking his head in amusement.

Seungkwan immediately jumped to his feet, standing beside Dino as he pretended to inject something into his head. Vernon followed suit, joining in as they began the impromptu performance.

Dino, fully in character now, exclaimed, "Ya. I have to go save my daughter."

"Lie down," Seungkwan commanded, keeping up the act.

"Help me," Dino pleaded, still in character.

"Lie down," Seungkwan repeated, his tone authoritative as they continued the reenactment.

"Okay, okay," Dino relented, pretending to struggle as he was held down by his fellow members.

"Lie down!" Seungkwan shouted, raising his voice to add intensity to the scene.

Luna, sitting in her seat, couldn’t help but giggle and cringe simultaneously, her arms hugging Jeonghan's as they watched Dino's committed performance.

Dino, fully immersed in his role, suddenly blurted out, "Ya! You bastard! You son of a bitch!"

The room erupted in laughter. PD Na, the crew, and the rest of the members couldn’t contain themselves, cracking up at Dino's cursing and his spot-on impression.

"I have to save my daughter," Dino concluded dramatically, ending the performance.

[Done]

"That was so good," Dokyeom chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief at Dino's dedication.

Vernon, overcome with laughter, collapsed onto the floor, his distinct laugh echoing through the room.

[Laughing]

Luna, still giggling, hid behind Jeonghan's arm, her laughter mixing with a hint of secondhand embarrassment from Dino's antics. She peeked out from behind him, still smiling. "He's really on another level."

"You don’t know Song Kang Ho, but you're impersonating him?" PD Na asked, still trying to wrap his head around the absurdity of the situation.

"Exactly," Dino replied, suddenly modest as if he hadn’t just been yelling obscenities. "So if you give me one more chance…"

"I will give you another chance," PD Na said, making the group erupt in cheers and applause, grateful for the opportunity.

[He got another chance]

[He earned his chance]

As Dino returned to his seat, Mingyu leaned over, chuckling, "You cleaned up your own mess."

[It's a precious second chance]

As the redo of the round was set to begin again, Dino nervously prepared himself.

"It'll be funny if he messes up again," Woozi giggled, glancing at Dino, who was now steeling himself for his second chance.

[RE: Round 10]

PD Na held up the picture for Dino and began the countdown, "1, 2, 3."

"Mimi," Dino blurted out confidently.

"You got it," PD Na confirmed, nodding his head.

"I got it!" Dino exclaimed, standing up, visibly shocked and immensely relieved that he had nailed it this time. The tension from earlier had melted away, replaced with triumphant disbelief.

Next up was Hoshi. He stood up, a mix of a sigh and a whine escaping him as he clutched his chest, clearly feeling the pressure.

[And]

[the hamster's having a heartache]

[Sigh]

"Hoshi, it's okay. You're okay," Luna said softly, her voice tinged with amusement as she watched him.

"Hoshi, doesn’t your heart ache?" S.Coups teased with a chuckle as if empathizing with the intensity of the situation.

"I think I’m going to go crazy," Hoshi admitted, making S.Coups laugh heartily.

[He understands how Hoshi feels]

"It’s okay," Jun reassured him, placing a comforting hand on Hoshi's arm as he tried to calm him down.

[Character Quiz can be harmful]

[Talk to Producer Na about side effects]

PD Na then presented the picture to Hoshi. Before he could even count down, Hoshi sprang to his feet and pointed at the image, shouting, "Jee Seok Jin!" His excitement was so overwhelming that he fell to his knees, overwhelmed with joy. The members erupted in cheers and applause, sharing in Hoshi’s elation.

"Seok Jin!" Hoshi repeated, pointing at the picture as if he couldn’t believe he had actually gotten it right. The sheer relief and excitement radiated from him, and the members continued clapping for him, their laughter filling the room.

"He’s my dad’s age," Hoshi said, still out of breath, eliciting even more laughter from the group.

[He was born in 1966]

"'He’s my dad’s age'," Luna repeated with a chuckle, nodding at Hoshi in understanding as she smiled at his endearing comment.

"Joshua’s turn," PD Na announced, signaling the start of the next round. He showed Joshua the picture and counted down, "1, 2, 3."

"Song Hye Kyo," Joshua answered, his voice steady yet his eyes wide.

[Song what Kyo?]

The members burst into applause and cheers, congratulating him for the correct answer.

"Didn’t you say 'Song Ye Kyo'?" PD Na asked, slightly puzzled, prompting a few members to stand up in defense of Joshua’s answer.

[He suddenly misses his hometown]

"Is 'H' silent?" PD Na inquired, trying to clarify.

"I heard it. I heard the 'H,'" Luna raised her hand, backing Joshua despite knowing it wasn’t quite accurate.

"You don’t say 'H' in Hermes," Mingyu argued, causing the room to erupt in a chorus of "Oohs" at his logic, laughing at the sheer absurdity of the lies being thrown around to save Joshua.

[That makes sense]

"He’s right! He’s right!" Luna clapped her hands in agreement, pointing at Mingyu, who playfully winked at her.

"Okay," PD Na said with a sigh, as he turned his attention to Jun and Minghao, who were next in line.

[He'll move on since he's persuaded]

"Oh my. It’s the big obstacle," he remarked, before showing Jun the picture and counting down, "Here we go… 1, 2, 3."

"Michael Jackson," Jun announced confidently, standing up and busting out an iconic Michael Jackson move, making the members cheer loudly in excitement.

[He's in Performance Team]

[Neat finish]

"You’re pretty good," Dokyeom complimented, and others chimed in, "Good job."

[One obstacle is gone]

PD Na then turned to Minghao, who was leaning forward in his seat, a hint of nervousness visible on his face.

[Another obstacle]

"Minghao, it’s okay. You can do it," Seungkwan encouraged, his voice soft.

PD Na showed Minghao the picture and counted down, "1, 2, 3…"

"Sorry," Minghao bowed apologetically, admitting that he didn’t know the person.

"It’s understandable," Mingyu chimed in sympathetically, his tone reassuring.

"It’s understandable," Jeonghan echoed, nodding along in agreement.

"It’s alright, Hao," Luna added, her voice gentle.

[New reaction]

PD Na looked taken aback by the unexpected support, clearly surprised by how forgiving the members were of Minghao’s mistake. As a foreign member, the group understood his struggle with some of the cultural references.

"I don’t know her," Minghao admitted, his voice tinged with regret.

[Jeon Do-yeon]

"It’s okay. He did that on purpose," Luna said, playfully pointing at PD Na, causing the members to chuckle.

"He gave you the question you can’t answer," Mingyu agreed, his tone light-hearted.

"He was trying to get him wrong," Jeonghan added as they nodded in agreement. "He wasn’t considerate enough."

"He just doesn’t want us to eat," S.Coups joked, eliciting more laughter.

"'I’ll make you fail,'" Jeonghan imitated, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

"Give me easy ones," Minghao said, his voice lightening as he joined in on the banter, making everyone laugh.

"Sorry," PD Na chuckled, amused by how the members had turned the situation into a light-hearted moment.

In the end, after much deliberation and laughter, the group reluctantly agreed to remove the spicy stir-fried pork from their menu, leaving them with two dishes, the kimchi, and the LA galbi.

[Spicy stir-fried pork is out]

[This is all they have left]

PD Na, sensing the pressure building among the members, decided to lighten the mood while also giving them a push. "If you get it now, it works for both of us. We've got enough airtime. If you lose any more food, CARAT will get mad at us. It's about time for you to pull it off," he encouraged his tone a blend of seriousness and playful urgency.

[Round 11]

"Come on. Let's go," Woozi said, clapping his hands together in anticipation.

"Let’s do this," Minghao added, steeling himself for the challenge ahead.

The tension in the room was palpable as the game moved into the next round. The members were all on edge, knowing that every wrong answer could cost them another dish. Despite their efforts, the round came to a halt when Jun, staring blankly at the photo, couldn't identify Robert Downey Jr. The members sighed as they watched the LA galbi slip away from their grasp, leaving only the kimchi behind.

[END GAME]

[LA galbi is out] [Only 1 dish left]

[In the end, it happened]

[Only kimchi left for the final round]

"We’re about to lose the kimchi," Woozi remarked, half-joking, half-serious as they prepared for the next round.

"We must succeed this time," Seungkwan said, determination clear in his voice.

"Yes," Dino echoed, the weight of the situation not lost on him.

"He’ll give us the easy ones now," Jeonghan observed, watching PD Na carefully as he chose the pictures for the next round.

Luna, who had been quietly observing the proceedings, now rested her head on Jeonghan’s shoulder, her eyes following PD Na and the writers as they discussed the next steps. Jeonghan, sensing an opportunity, leaned forward slightly and proposed an idea. "Can you mix the ones we already did before?" he suggested.

[He demands to repeat the questions]

"What?" one of the writers asked, clearly taken aback by the request, causing the group to burst into laughter.

"He’s serious," Luna explained to the writers and PD Na, patting Jeonghan’s knee affectionately, her head still nestled on his shoulder.

"That’s what he’s like," S.Coups pointed out, gesturing toward Jeonghan with a knowing smile.

"We only have kimchi left," Jeonghan reasoned, trying to make his case.

PD Na considered it for a moment before agreeing. "Sure. Let’s do that. That doesn’t sound like a bad idea at all," he said, nodding.

"Thank you!" Luna exclaimed, her gratitude evident as she smiled warmly at PD Na.

"We can’t get it wrong twice," S.Coups said, the seriousness of the situation hitting them all at once.

"It could be harder this way," Woozi mused, his brows furrowing slightly.

"It might be harder," Jun agreed, nodding in contemplation.

"Getting it wrong twice is twice as embarrassing," Luna chuckled, the absurdity of the situation bringing a lightness to her voice.

"If anyone messes it up, let’s compliment them," Jeonghan suggested, his tone playful as they all agreed.

[Let's compliment that person. No cursing]

"'You don’t even know this? Good job,'" Woozi demonstrated, his sarcastic delivery making everyone laugh.

"Very good," Joshua added, chuckling at the sarcasm.

"That’s more annoying," Jun pointed out, shaking his head.

"It might end here," Joshua said, gesturing to S.Coups, who was first in line.

"Then we should just compliment him," Jeonghan replied, his tone teasing.

[Just compliment him]

"Let’s compliment that person. No cursing," Dokyeom said, trying to keep the atmosphere light.

"Don’t curse," S.Coups warned him, his voice mock-serious.

"Okay, don’t worry," Dokyeom chuckled, waving off the concern.

"Let’s compliment big time. ‘We already saw this before, but you got it wrong again? You’re amazing,’" Woozi suggested, his tone dripping with exaggerated praise, causing Joshua to laugh out loud.

PD Na, now fully on board with the idea, laid out the plan. "Here’s what we’re going to do. I’ll mix six random pictures from the previous questions. Even I don’t know what they are going to be."

[Even the production crew doesn't know the order]

"But you have to go very fast," PD Na explained, demonstrating how quickly he would count down.

[Demonstration]

"Okay. Let’s start," Jeonghan said, his voice steady as they braced themselves for the rapid-fire round ahead. The tension was thick, but so was the camaraderie, as they prepared to face the challenge with a mix of nerves and humor.

As the group prepared to dive into the rapid-fire round, some of the members took a moment to review their previous answers, just in case the same questions resurfaced. There was a mixture of nervous energy and determination in the room as everyone tried to remember the faces and names they'd already encountered.

[Going over the previous questions in a rush]

In the midst of all the preparation, Luna and Jeonghan remained side by side, their quiet confidence evident in how relaxed they were. Luna’s head was still resting comfortably on Jeonghan’s shoulder as she casually replied to a text from her mom on her phone. Jeonghan, noticing her focused expression, watched her fingers as they moved swiftly across the screen.

"Is that your mom?" Jeonghan asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper so as not to disturb the others.

"Mmm," Luna hummed in response, her attention still on her phone.

"Tell her I said hi," Jeonghan suggested, his tone warm and familiar.

Without missing a beat, Luna turned on the front camera of her phone and positioned it in front of them, capturing a photo of them smiling together. Neither of them moved an inch, maintaining their comfortable position as she quickly sent the picture to her mom.

Laughter and quiet conversations filled the room, but soon enough, PD Na's voice cut through the noise, drawing everyone's attention back to the task at hand.

"Is there anyone who got all the answers?" PD Na asked, his tone carrying a hint of playful challenge.

"I haven't gotten any wrong yet," Seungkwan quickly raised his hand, pride evident in his voice.

"I got all mine right too," Luna added, lifting her head from Jeonghan's shoulder to sit up properly. She gave a small, confident smile, glad to be able to say she hadn’t slipped up yet.

Jeonghan, noticing Luna's shift, also raised his hand with a casual, "Me too."

From behind his seat, where he'd been pacing, Wonwoo raised his hand as well, adding, "I don’t think I got anything wrong either," his calm demeanor hiding the subtle pride he felt.

Mingyu, ever competitive, raised his hand after Wonwoo, as if reluctant to be left out.

PD Na scanned the room, his eyes landing on those who hadn’t raised their hands. "Anyone who got everything wrong?" he asked, humor lacing his tone.

Only S.Coups sheepishly raised his hand, chuckling at his own misfortune. "I never got it for once," he admitted, laughing at how ridiculous it sounded.

[Park Bo Gum/Yoon/Kim Woo Bin]

PD Na pointed at S.Coups, his laughter infectious. "He got zero," he emphasized, causing the room to erupt in giggles.

"I didn’t think I’d be this terrible," S.Coups confessed, still smiling despite his poor track record.

"You’re terrible," Vernon teased, unable to resist ribbing his leader.

S.Coups shook his head, still in disbelief. "I was pretty good when I watched it on TV," he said, his tone a mix of amusement and frustration.

"Everything looks easy when you watch it on TV," Joshua pointed out, understanding where S.Coups was coming from.

"It looked really easy on TV," S.Coups repeated, the laughter in his voice signaling he had made peace with his less-than-stellar performance.

The room was buzzing with playful energy as PD Na's gaze swept across the members, his eyes finally landing on S.Coups. “Who should go first?” he asked, a mischievous glint in his eye. “S.Coups?”

S.Coups, with his hands clasped over his chest as if to steady his nerves, nodded with a resigned smile. “Yes,” he agreed, knowing he was about to face another round of teasing from his members if he still got it wrong.

“Do you know the worst-case scenario?” PD Na asked, his eyes narrowing with exaggerated concern. “The game ends with you hesitating."

[And the game ends there]

'No fun, no impression,” Woozi piling on the pressure with a grin.

“No style,” Mingyu chimed in from beside Woozi, unable to resist taking his own playful jab. His tone was light, but the teasing was relentless. Dokyeom couldn’t help but laugh at how perfectly they were roasting their leader.

“We should still compliment him,” Jeonghan suggested.

[Even if the worst possible thing happens, we'll still compliment you]

Woozi caught on immediately, nodding in agreement. “We’ll give you warm compliments,” he promised.

Vernon, ever the deadpan, delivered his line with perfect timing and zero emotion. “Well done,” he said flatly, making PD Na burst out laughing as he clapped in appreciation of the humor.

[That's a compliment]

Jeonghan raised his hands as if to assure everyone. “We’re not negative,” he insisted, though the grin on his face said otherwise.

Joshua, picking up on Vernon's tone, echoed with an equally flat “Well done,” his expression matching the dry delivery.

[Last round]

S.Coups knelt on the floor, his heart racing as the anticipation grew. The entire group was focused on him, holding their breath, hoping he would finally break his streak of incorrect answers.

PD Na, with a knowing smile, revealed the next picture and began his countdown. “1, 2, 3.”

“Uhm Jung Hwa,” S.Coups exclaimed, his voice filled with a mix of determination and desperation.

For a moment, there was silence, then the room erupted in applause. S.Coups had finally gotten it right. He sat back down with a relieved smile, as the members clapped and cheered for him.

[He finally saved his face]

“You got it,” PD Na confirmed, moving quickly to keep the momentum going. He turned to Joshua next, the picture already in hand.

Joshua, ever calm and collected, focused on the image as PD Na began to count. “1, 2, 3.”

“Suho,” Joshua answered without a moment's hesitation, earning another round of applause from the members.

“You got it,” PD Na acknowledged with a nod, wasting no time as he showed the next picture to Hoshi.

“1, 2, 3.”

“Lee Seok Hoon!” Hoshi shouted, jumping to his feet in excitement, his energy contagious as the room cheered again.

“You got it,” PD Na confirmed, laughing at Hoshi’s enthusiasm.

“It’s Seok Hoon!” Hoshi repeated, still riding the high of getting it right.

Next up was Jeonghan, who, in his typical relaxed manner, remained seated as PD Na flashed the picture. “1, 2, 3.”

“Hani,” Jeonghan pointed out, his tone steady and sure.

“You got it,” PD Na responded, pleased with the quick succession of correct answers. He turned to Luna, who was next in line. Luna, who had been quietly observing, was now the center of attention.

PD Na showed her the picture and counted down, "1,2,3." And with a smoothness that only she could pull off, she responded.

“Harry Potter,” Luna said, her English accent and pronunciation so flawless that it left PD Na momentarily confused.

[What?]

“What?” PD Na asked, his brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of what she had just said.

The members were quick to jump in, eager to explain. Joshua and Vernon, who understood her immediately, were the loudest.

“She’s right!” Joshua called out.

“She got it right!” Vernon added, both of them nodding earnestly.

[American line defending]

“What was that?” PD Na asked again, this time with a hint of curiosity, leaning in as if that would help him understand.

“Harry Potter,” Luna chuckled, her English accent still pronounced.

Jeonghan couldn’t help but grin as he added, “She’s English.”

“She’s from the United Kingdom,” Hoshi chimed in, nodding as if to emphasize the point.

“It's her accent,” Joshua pointed out, sharing in the playful banter.

Mingyu, always one for humor, threw in his own comment, “She said it the same way Harry Potter would have said it.”

This set the members off, as they began mimicking her accent, each one trying their best to sound as authentic as Luna had.

“Authentic. Authentic,” Seungkwan said, nodding appreciatively.

Luna, playing along with the joke, repeated her answer once more, this time with a deliberately exaggerated Korean accent, “Harry Potter.”

The room burst into laughter at her playful switch, the tension from the game momentarily forgotten in the shared humor.

“I understand,” PD Na finally said, smiling as he gave her the point. “You got it.”

"Seungkwan is next," PD Na announced, the anticipation building as he turned to the next member. He showed the picture and began counting down, "1, 2, 3."

"Song Kang Ho," Seungkwan answered with confidence, his eyes locked on the screen.

"You got it," PD Na confirmed, causing the room to erupt in applause.

“Okay,” Jeonghan exclaimed, his voice steady and calm, as the group continued their winning streak.

PD Na then turned his attention to Wonwoo, who had stopped pacing and now stood firmly behind his chair, ready to tackle his turn. As the picture was revealed, PD Na began the countdown, "1, 2, 3."

"Hyeri," Wonwoo replied calmly, his voice steady.

The members erupted into excited claps, thrilled by yet another correct answer.

"You got it," PD Na affirmed, pleased with their progress. "You're already halfway."

[It's the peak]

At this point, half of the members were now standing, their energy mixed with excitement and nerves getting to the,

"It's Vernon's turn," PD Na announced, signaling to Vernon who looked intently at him.

PD Na revealed the picture and counted down, "1, 2, 3…"

But nothing came out of Vernon's mouth. The seconds ticked by in silence, and the tension in the room grew palpable.

[Spacing out]

[Blinking]

“Wrong!” PD Na declared, the room filling with a momentary chorus of groans.

However, true to their earlier promise, the members quickly transitioned to compliments, mimicking Vernon’s earlier deadpan tone.

“Well done,” they chorused, surrounding him and clapping enthusiastically.

“Good job.”

“Well done.”

“Good job.”

“You did great.”

[They're complimenting him]

They high-fived him and shook his hand, their smiles wide as they supported their teammate despite the sarcasm dripping in their voices.

[Everyone wants to shake his hand]

Luna, still seated, couldn’t help but laugh at the scene unfolding before her. The group’s playful nature always brought light to even the most competitive moments.

“So? Kimchi slap?” Minghao joked, holding up the container of kimchi, which caused PD Na and the writers to burst into laughter. Minghao then walked off to remove the kimchi from the table, still grinning.

[Kimchi is leaving]

“Good job. Well done,” Jeonghan clapped, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

[When we're having a hard time, we compliment]

Suddenly, Vernon casually picked up the yogurt Seungkwan had been hiding earlier and began drinking it, catching everyone off guard.

[I drink yogurt when I'm sad]

“When did you take it?” PD Na asked, his tone filled with curiosity, while Seungkwan looked at Vernon, eyes wide with shock and a touch of betrayal, considering he had been the one to smuggle the yogurt earlier.

“I brought it from home,” Vernon said casually, clearly lying but with such a straight face that it only added to the hilarity of the situation.

“It was fun. Good job,” Minghao said, clapping for their efforts as they all returned to their seats.

[But the table is empty]

Back in their seats, the group settled down, the atmosphere still buzzing with excitement. Mingyu, ever the instigator, leaned forward and asked, “Any bonus round?”

Jeonghan, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, gestured toward the rice and soup they were supposed to receive for free. “With everything one more time,” he suggested, the familiar spark of a bet flickering across his face.

[Shameless]

Luna simply grinned at this, already accustomed to Jeonghan’s penchant for bets, while PD Na and the writers exchanged shocked glances.

“What?” one of the writers said in a high-pitched tone, their disbelief evident, which only served to amplify the laughter in the room, with Dokyeom laughing the loudest.

[Is he here to bargain with Dormammu?]

“'What?'” Luna mimicked the writer’s tone, followed quickly by Joshua, who couldn’t resist joining in on the fun. “'What?'”

“The final round with all food,” Jeonghan said, his lazy smirk still plastered on his face but with a seriousness that made it clear he wasn’t joking. “We won’t have rice.”

“We’ll bet rice and soup,” S.Coups chimed in, adding to the stakes.

“You’ll starve?” PD Na asked, his tone a mix of concern and amusement.

“Yes,” Jeonghan replied, his smirk never wavering.

“We can’t let them starve,” PD Na said to the writers, trying to gauge how serious the members were.

“It’s okay,” Hoshi interjected.

“We don’t mind. We skip meals often.” Jeonghan said.

“Hunger got us this far,” Seungkwan added with a solemn nod, making Luna nod in agreement as well.

“We’re betting rice and soup too,” Hoshi declared, his tone final.

“We’re putting everything on the line.” S.Coups gestured to the rice and soup.

“You should too,” Luna joined in, her voice filled with playful defiance.

“We’re betting our all,” Jeonghan reiterated. “You should bet your all too.”

S.Coups nodded in agreement, his eyes fixed on PD Na.

“Yung Suk,” Seungkwan called out, using PD Na’s first name with an exaggerated sigh to convince him, causing PD Na to laugh despite himself.

“All versus all,” Vernon clapped, fueling the enthusiasm of the group.

“But there’s a big gap between the two,” Dokyeom chuckled, acknowledging the absurdity of the bet.

“I’ll bet soup, rice, and S.Coups,” Mingyu listed with a grin, knowing the stakes were now absurdly high.

[We're good]

“Okay. Let’s go,” PD Na finally agreed, which prompted the group to erupt into claps and excited exclamations.

[All versus all]

“From this moment on, I’ll be CARAT’s enemy. I’m going to make you starve,” PD Na said, his tone mock-serious.

[That's Producer Na's opinion]

“I’m afraid CARAT will be like, ‘We’re sorry,’” Seungkwan joked, causing another round of laughter.

“But we have a chance. We got this,” Hoshi said, wrapping his arms around Luna and Seungkwan, who had moved seats earlier and was now next to Luna.

“We got this,” Jeonghan agreed, his confidence unwavering.

“I can feel it,” Hoshi added, his tone optimistic.

“We always succeeded in the end,” S.Coups said, his voice filled with determination.

[Subtitle to retrieve our reputation]

[The leader stands out in crisis]

“We always succeeded in the end,” Luna repeated, nodding in agreement.

“Are we going to compliment again even if someone messes it up?” Mingyu asked, looking around the group.

“Are we going to compliment again?” Dokyeom echoed, his curiosity piqued.

“We should,” Jeonghan nodded, as if setting the rule.

“Do you want to curse this time?” Dokyeom asked, half-serious.

“Curse?” Jeonghan laughed, the idea amusing him.

“Someone might curse,” Luna chuckled, imagining the scenario.

“Let’s compliment,” Dokyeom decided, his tone firm.

“Yes, we should compliment,” Hoshi agreed, his voice supportive.

“We’re a positive band,” Jeonghan declared, the sentiment echoed by the others.

As the banter continued, Joshua, who had been relatively quiet, suddenly spoke up from his spot next to Jeonghan. “I’m getting nervous,” he admitted, his voice tinged with anticipation.

Jeonghan, always the attentive one, reached into his pocket and pulled out the candy he had received earlier. Without missing a beat, he handed it to Joshua. “When you’re nervous, have something sweet.”

[The chocolate he got earlier]

Joshua smiled, taking the candy gratefully before eating it.

[Recharging thanks to his friend]

Meanwhile, Jeonghan fished out the last candy from his pocket, catching Luna’s attention. Their eyes met, and without a word, Jeonghan unwrapped the candy and held it up to her mouth.

[The twin bunnies share]

Luna stared at it for a few seconds, her gaze locked on Jeonghan’s as she contemplated his gesture. Then, with a small smile, she leaned in and bit the candy in half, the sound crisp as she did so. She nodded her head towards Jeonghan, signaling for him to have the other half, knowing he had planned to eat it before offering it to her.

“Thank you,” Luna said softly, her voice filled with a warmth that made Jeonghan hum in acknowledgment before popping the other half into his mouth.

The SEVENTEEN members continued to watch with focused anticipation as PD Na and the writers huddled together, deliberating over which pictures to use for the final bonus round.

[Selecting questions]

Mingyu, always the one to lighten the mood, leaned in and told the group, “Watch Producer Na’s glasses carefully. You might see the reflection.”

The suggestion was so absurd that it drew immediate laughter from everyone. Jeonghan, chuckling, turned to Mingyu. “On his glasses?”

S.Coups, unable to contain his amusement, shook his head. “Are you a gambler or what?”

Before the teasing could continue, PD Na’s voice cut through the laughter. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, we’re ready,” Jeonghan responded confidently, his tone steady.

“We’re going all in,” Hoshi added, his voice filled with determination.

PD Na hesitated for a moment, the concern evident in his tone. “I’d feel so bad if you don’t eat anything…”

But the group was resolute. “We’ll be fine,” Luna said, nodding in agreement.

“It’s okay,” Dokyeom echoed, his usual cheerfulness still intact.

“It’s fine,” Jun added with a reassuring smile.

One of the writers, catching PD Na’s conflicted expression, spoke up, “You decided to be the enemy.”

“CARAT’s enemy,” Dokyeom repeated with a dramatic flair, eliciting more laughter from the group.

“Right. I decided to be CARAT’s enemy,” PD Na sighed, but the laughter that followed showed that no one was taking it too seriously.

Seungkwan, ever the spokesperson, chimed in with a grin, “We’re grateful for this chance.”

PD Na, playing along with the joke, nodded solemnly. “You should remind them later.”

“I’ll record that separately later,” Seungkwan joked, his quick wit earning more chuckles.

[The real last round]

“Do I go first? I’ll go first,” Mingyu volunteered, his competitive nature shining through.

[Mingyu will go first for a safe start]

As the others agreed, Mingyu couldn’t resist adding with confidence, “You can start with a hard one.”

[He stays laid back]

"Here we go," PD Na announced, his voice filled with a mix of anticipation and seriousness as he showed the picture to Mingyu. The entire room held its breath as PD Na began the countdown, "1, 2, 3."

"Umji," Mingyu answered without missing a beat.

"You got it," PD Na confirmed, and a wave of relieved cheers and claps echoed around the room.

"Good job," Luna’s voice called out from the other side of the line, her tone warm and supportive.

Next in line was Woozi, who, in his quiet determination, murmured to himself, "I know them all."

PD Na held up the next picture and started counting down once more, "1, 2, 3."

"Joo Hyun Young," Woozi answered, his voice calm and confident.

"You got it," PD Na said again, validating Woozi’s answer. The room buzzed with excitement, the members feeding off the positive momentum they had built.

Jeonghan, who had been pacing behind the seats with Wonwoo, paused, watching Dokyeom who was next in line. "We’re on a roll now. We got this," Mingyu encouraged, the energy high.

"Dokyeom, don't be nervous. Chill out," Seungkwan added, his tone soothing.

[His record today: He got Calm Down Man. He also got a warning]

The pressure was on as PD Na presented the next picture and began the countdown, "1, 2, 3."

"Sunshine," Dokyeom blurted out, his voice confident at first, but as he tilted his head in realization, he knew he had missed the mark.

"Wrong!" PD Na announced, and the room erupted into laughter.

[Shining wrong answer]

Mingyu, in a dramatic display of defeat, collapsed onto the ground.

[He feels like his shoulder shrank by 1cm]

The members' laughter was infectious, with Joshua and S.Coups chiming in, "Sun," trying to correct Dokyeom's slip-up.

"Ahh, Sun," Dokyeom whined, sinking to the floor in mock despair.

[Oh, Sun]

"You met her just the other day," Seungkwan pointed out, half-laughing, half-scolding.

[They met for 'Amazing Saturday' 2 days ago]

"You met her on the show the other day," S.Coups added, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Sunshine," Luna giggled as she stood up, joining the group that was now surrounding the fallen Dokyeom.

The laughter continued as Dino slowly approached Dokyeom, ready to deliver a playful jab. Recalling his own earlier impression but with a twist, he leaned in and said with exaggerated seriousness, "Ya!… you bastard. Why would you get it wrong, you son of a bitch?"

[It's a compliment]

[SEVENTEEN is a very positive band]

[The youngest spoke up for everyone]

The room exploded with laughter, Dokyeom laughing the hardest as he clung to Dino’s legs in mock desperation.

[DK is happy]

Even PD Na, the writers, and the crew couldn’t hold back their laughter, the atmosphere light and joyful despite the mistake.

[Final result] [They lost everything]

As the laughter finally began to die down, PD Na clapped his hands together and said, "It's over."

The declaration made the members stand from their seats, with no complaints, just a collective acceptance.

"Let's go," they said, their voices in sync as they began to move.

[Getting ready to leave]

"We should be cool about it," Hoshi said, earning nods of agreement from the others.

"We shouldn't beg," Jeonghan added, his voice firm but lighthearted.

"Okay. Well done," PD Na said, acknowledging their efforts. The members bowed in thanks, their gratitude genuine despite the outcome.

[SEVENTEEN will look for their next chance]

With that, they headed back out to the green room, the playful energy from before lingering as they prepared for the next segment.

[Break]

The members of SEVENTEEN moved out toward the green room, their steps light and laughter filling the air. Jeonghan and Luna walked hand in hand, Luna's steps playful as she skipped along. The warmth between them was palpable, a quiet connection that spoke volumes amidst the group's playful banter.

"It's fun to be with everyone," Dino said, his gaze wandering to the basketball court set up nearby, a hint of excitement in his voice.

"I can't believe we got to do this," Dokyeom added, the wonder still fresh in his tone.

"Seungkwan is on a roll today," Vernon remarked, a grin spreading across his face.

"I know, he was hilarious," Mingyu chimed in, clearly enjoying the memory of Seungkwan's antics.

As they neared the green room, the conversation shifted to the perfect weather that had accompanied their day. "It's such nice weather," S.Coups noted, his eyes scanning the clear sky.

"It's so nice. There's a cool breeze," Wonwoo agreed, his voice soft as he soaked in the moment.

"I love the sunshine," Luna added, her head tilted up towards the sun, her eyes closing in contentment. The unintentional nod to Dokyeom's earlier mistake made everyone burst out laughing.

"Sunshine," Dokyeom laughed, throwing his arm around Luna in a hug. "The sunshine is just so warm."

As they reached the green room, the reality of their earlier bet sank in. "Do we really get no food?" Dokyeom asked his tone a mix of disbelief and hope.

"Of course," Mingyu answered with a grin, his voice playful yet firm as they finally stepped outside the green room.

[They're moving to the green room as they talk about the Character Quiz]

The members naturally settled into their own activities, some remained inside the green room, while others wandered outside, soaking in the peaceful atmosphere.

Jeonghan and Luna found themselves lingering by the doorway, sharing a quiet moment. With the door slightly ajar, the sunlight filtered through, casting a soft glow on their faces. Jeonghan leaned casually against the doorframe, his posture relaxed, while Luna stood nearby, her fingers lightly grazing the frame as if tracing invisible patterns. Their eyes were on each other as they quietly conversed. The air around them seemed to hum with unspoken words, a tension both innocent and charged, lingering in the subtle distance between them.

Suddenly, their attention was drawn to the staff, who were lighting up the candles on a cake. The realization quickly spread as they understood who the cake was for.

[They see a staff lighting candles on a cake despite the strong wind]

[Jeonghan] [Not the birthday boy] [Born on October 4]

[Luna] [Not the birthday girl] [Born on January 30]

"Mingyu," one of the staff called out.

Mingyu turned around, his eyes lighting up as he spotted the cake. His birthday had been three days ago, but the gesture touched him deeply.

[Mingyu] [The birthday boy] [Born on April 6]

[A small birthday party for Mingyu whose birthday was 3 days before the shoot]

"Thank you," he marveled, taking the cake into his hands, his voice full of gratitude.

"Thank you," Seungkwan echoed, as the rest of the members began to gather around the cake, their excitement palpable.

[We couldn't give you any food, but we'll still celebrate your birthday]

"Yay," Mingyu said with a wide grin, genuinely touched by the surprise.

"What a nice show," Seungkwan remarked, appreciating the gesture.

"That looks really good," Vernon added, joining the others.

Mingyu then approached the nearest camera, holding up the cake with pride.

[Let's get the close-up first]

"Wow. Let's eat," Mingyu announced, placing the cake on the ledge in front of the green room, the members eagerly crowding around.

"Mingyu, did they put anything inside?" Dokyeom joked, his tone light and teasing.

"No one is reliable," S.Coups chimed in, playing along with the joke.

"Wow, it looks good," Luna said, moving closer to them, her eyes fixed on the cake.

"Let's try the chocolate cake," Jeonghan suggested, reaching for chopsticks as they began to dig in, the atmosphere filled with chatter and chewing.

"It's really sweet. I love it," Mingyu said after his first bite, his face lighting up with satisfaction.

Luna took her own bite, her eyes widening in delight as she did a little happy dance. "It's amazing," she exclaimed, her voice full of genuine pleasure.

"Wow," Jeonghan echoed, savoring the sweetness as he took his own bite.

"Really? That good?" Wonwoo asked as he arrived, curious about the reactions.

"It's so good," Mingyu assured him, already reaching for another piece.

"Jeonghan, do you eat cakes?" Dokyeom asked with a playful grin.

Luna, without missing a beat, offered a piece to Wonwoo, who gladly accepted it. "Try," she said with a smile as he took a bite.

"Are you eating it just because you need sugar?" Wonwoo teased Jeonghan, a knowing look in his eyes.

"That's exactly why," Luna nodded, her tone conspiratorial as she and Jeonghan exchanged a glance.

"Help yourselves," Seungkwan said, returning with more chopsticks to share among the group.

[Seungkwan is sweet enough to get them chopsticks]

[The cake turned into a meal in front of the green room]

"Happy birthday, Mingyu," Wonwoo added, his voice warm and sincere.

"This is so good," Vernon said, his approval echoed by the others as they continued to enjoy the cake, the sweetness of the moment shared among friends.

[Celebrating his birthday again with a delicious cake]

[They continued eating the cake]

[Have a proper meal next time]

[To be continued in Clip 2-1]

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vidavalor · 7 months ago

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I was wondering if you've talked about why Gabriel was on a jog in season 1 episode 4. It always felt off to me since it's such a human activity

Hi @anxious-al! 💕 Hope you're having a nice week so far. *gets the mugs* as there's always hot chocolate available for Gabriel-themed questions. 😊

What a time to be going for a "human" jog, eh? This takes place on the morning of The Last Day of The World:

Gabriel is supposed to destroy this planet later that day and he's down on it, alone, jogging in the park... why?... and what of the human woman dressed as an angel at the edge of the park?

The scene wherein Aziraphale interrupts Gabriel on a morning run in the park begins with one of the strangest moments in the series-- Aziraphale being distracted by a human woman dressed in head-to-toe gold with harp-like angel wings. She is a performance artist and her art is that she is dressed as an angel. She stands there, silent, sending her artistic message for both the characters in the story who notice her and for us as the audience to interpret. This makes her a bit meta for the story of Good Omens as a whole.

What message is The Angel Woman saying to her fellow humans with this? is a question that leads us to another one as a result:

What is Good Omens saying by using angels and demons in their story written for us humans?

Perhaps that there is divinity in humanity? Perhaps that we spend all this time glorifying holy beings that we can't prove even exist when, really, we humans embody the angelic and the demonic and everything in between? That we're really the magical ones?

The Angel Woman is a character in a story written by humans who are using angels and demons to make points about human living... and who are the other characters in this scene? Gabriel and Aziraphale... a pair of angels on Earth and who are both engaged in aspects of what they might see as "human" living.

This scene is one in the story pointing out that "human living" is really just living, period.

Aziraphale stops and contemplates the angel-dressed performance artist and that is the start of the scene. The "human cosplaying" Gabriel then jogs by them-- paralleling both the angel who lives like a human and the human who is dressed as an angel. Here's The Supreme Archangel of Heaven on the last morning on Earth and what is he doing?

He's jogging in the park. Like a human.

The episode is called "Saturday Morning Funtime" and has more Gabriel in its front half than any episode prior to it, as we begin to see that he's actually who it's named for. Everyone is miserable ahead of Armageddon but the one who has a Saturday Morning Funtime routine is Gabriel. This guy who is the commander of the armed forces of Heaven and entrapped by a supernatural fascist regime hellbent on destroying this place?

Yeah, he secretly kinda loves Earth.

Gabriel is keeping himself from going mad by carving out some escape time on Earth where he does some moderate exercise in the fresh air and clears his head. No one knows who he is down there. He's just another hot dude running in the park. It gets him away from the other angels always circling him like vultures and gives him some precious alone time.

There are other scenes that indicate that, as Earth has gone on, Gabriel has been using the power of his position to escape to it from time to time. Gabriel's only possessions until S2 are his custom-tailored clothes and they were made on Earth. He shows a curiosity about how Aziraphale chooses to live in the sushi scene in 1.01. Yes, he's judgy about it but he's judgy to hide the fact that he's asking out of interest-- rather than using the power he has to order Aziraphale not to make his own choices over it.

Gabriel is shown to be a lot more "live and let live" than he might initially seem to be. He is one of the only angels who doesn't view the demons as beneath them and he covers for Michael's relationships with them. Several scenes suggest pretty heavily that he's known about Crowley and Aziraphale for ages and has been keeping that knowledge from The Metatron. He doesn't care that Aziraphale does human things on Earth like eating or that he wants to live a more human-like existence. He doesn't totally understand all aspects of it but that doesn't stop him from being more fundamentally curious about it than anything else.

Gabriel actually doesn't care that Aziraphale's in love with Crowley. Gabriel can get the appeal, actually. Gabriel knows how it goes anyway... he's got a bit of a thing for the "informant" he references to Aziraphale in 1.01-- Lord Beezlebub, the only being he feels like he really be anything close to his true self around, who also happens to be a demon. The demons are supposed to be the angels' mortal enemies but Gabriel thinks that's kind of bullshit. They're just people and he remembers what a lot of them were like before Hell became a thing. They were smart, creative people, most of whom did little wrong but for asking the same questions that Gabriel privately asks himself daily.

So, he's been coming down to Earth to check it out for awhile, when he can come up with an excuse to escape his prison. Sometime pre-S1, he started to do more than observe and basically got himself a hobby in jogging, like a human might do. Something for him and him alone. This is a big deal because Gabriel has virtually nothing else that is own.

Gabriel doesn't own a single, non-clothing material object in S1 and never has at this point. The first present he'll ever be given is the fly in the matchbox from Beez. His clothes are his only possessions, which is partially why he's so vain about them. They are the only way he's allowed to express a sense of individuality in Heaven-- and he made that happen.

This is related to the jogging and is a much, much bigger deal than it might initially seem...

In S2, when we go back to the Job minisode era, we see that all of the angels used to dress in, more-or-less, the same thing. They all look like what they are-- members of a cult. Even The Supreme Archangel is wearing basically a white sheet roped off in gold. The homogeneity of the look is the point.

There's a psychological reason why cults of all sorts-- and armies of all sorts-- have an uniform. It's to reinforce a sense of negative groupthink over a sense of individuality. When you are allowed to dress as you wish, you have freedom of expression, and this obviously causes you to consider how you wish to express yourself to others. It gives you the free reign we all should have to be who we are-- and to be able to consider who that is and evolve our sense of self over time. This is absolutely against the mindset of dictatorships and cults and anything in that vein.

The last thing they want is for people to see themselves as individual people because that stuff gets dangerous. They might get ideas. They might form their own opinions and start to act on them. It makes people harder to control. This is why Gabriel and his clothes are so important.

The only way the whole 'everyone is basically wearing a table cloth' situation changed for the angels sometime post-Job is if The Supreme Archangel okayed it. He's the only one with just enough power to have made this happen, if not enough power to overthrow The Metatron on his own. Gabriel saw Aziraphale begin to wear different things on Earth with the built-in excuse of Aziraphale having to blend in with the humans and white robes were no longer a style that would work.

Aziraphale, as a result, became the first angel to have an excuse to express himself as an individual because he got to choose what he'd like to wear while he was on Earth. Gabriel noted this and basically said to himself that looks fun. Our dude was very tired of this white robe situation and seeing Aziraphale get to play made Gabriel want to as well so he went to Aziraphale at some point and basically said teach me about what the humans are doing about clothes.

Gabriel had an excuse to change his look, too-- he'd have to go to Earth sometimes to do Supreme Archangel Checking Up On Stuff Things. He'd have to look like a human, too. He loved it. Playing human dress up was super fun and brought all new kinds of thoughts. What fabrics he liked, what looks he liked, what he thought about how the different clothes looked on him, what made him feel different ways about himself. Clothes are self-expression, after all-- they reflect how we feel about ourselves and support the image we are trying to project. Gabriel got into this, big-time, and then turned around and asked the dangerous question to himself:

What if we did this in Heaven, too?

What if he used what power he had to change the rules about what the angels wore? What if he told everyone they could wear whatever they wanted? The army would still have an uniform for when they were running drills or whatever and maybe there'd be a color-scheme because Gabriel knew The Metatron was going to lose it about this so he came up with some parameters but he basically overthrew the tablecloth tyranny and told every other angel that they were free to express themselves the way they wanted and, if you ask me? That's why he and The Metatron are snarking about Gabriel's suit during his trial.

The Metatron never got over the fact that Gabriel pushed the clothes thing and knew how to get just enough of what he could without making it more trouble than it was worth to kill him over it. The Metatron takes some evil delight in telling Gabriel that "appropriate raiment" will be provided for him-- he'll have to wear what The Metatron dictates, in other words-- now that he'll be a bottom-of-the-barrel junior recording analyst. Gabriel, though?

He got the last laugh. He used taking off his suit as a reason to leave, along with clearing out his non-existent desk, and fled Heaven buck ass naked rather than put up with The Metatron's bullshit for another minute.

The moment Crowley fell in love with Gabriel was when he saw just how much Gabriel loathes The Metatron in these just take me out back and shoot me ffs faces he was making during his trial:

Anyway, the point is that all the angels are following Gabriel's lead and that's probably half the reason why almost everyone in Heaven dresses in a variation of Aziraphale or Gabriel's styles. (Ever notice how Michael and Uriel look like they're in some kind of suit battle and both of them are trying to emulate Gabriel a bit?) While many of the angels aren't really reinventing the rules of fashion up there, the idea worked: they all look different from one another. They all can express themselves as they desire when it comes to how they look. They've all had to think about themselves for at least long enough as it takes to come up with outfits and view themselves as an individual person to do so.

It's perhaps worth noting in here then, too, how funny it is that The Metatron is a floating head... that's how he presents himself. He's the one character who doesn't have a body. It's symbolic of how he feels he's above even the idea of having anything like the pesky needs of human corporation. The ideal of Heaven is him, in his eyes, and he is above the vessel through which all living beings actually live...

...and the one challenging him every step of the way as much as he can is The Supreme Archangel...

...who, amusingly, happens to have a rather pleasing physical corporation appreciated by many, many different sorts of beings.

Looked at that way? Gabriel's peacocking about his clothes is not pure vanity but just the best example of what little rebellious fires he's been able to start Up there. A focus on clothes is also a focus on your body-- for better or worse-- and so it's not really surprising that Gabriel's Earthly hobby is looking goooood in some grey sweatpants while he escapes a little from the pressures of his world.

There's something kind of delicious about Gabriel deciding that he has some Saturday Morning Funtime now-- he has an exercise routine. He's like peace out, MetaT-- I'm going to take my fantastic corporation *jogging*. Rot in Hell, you fascist Mr. Potato Head...

Aziraphale is interruping Gabriel's alone time in 1.04 and if you look closely, you'll notice that Gabriel actually looks upset as he's running before Aziraphale sees him. He doesn't actually want to destroy Earth. He feels he has no choice and he's terrified of The Metatron but he likes Earth. He doesn't fully understand of it-- to be fair to him, no one really does lol-- but he likes it enough to have been escaping to it for awhile now.

By S2, in a parallel scene to the jogging one, Aziraphale will be beginning to get the idea of him and Gabriel both having versions of the Heaven-induced perfectionism and anxiety a bit more, though... and about how that's not any different from humans who go through the same thing.

The angel human doing performance art (complete with foreshadowing the discus halo) in S1:

The art of the Gabriel statue in Edinburgh in S2:

In S2, the art is a human-made sculpture deitifying Gabriel. It causes Aziraphale to further consider what life might have been like for a being who is, really, just some dude, but who has been held up as a holy symbol in this way by angels and humans alike.

Adding to this is that the statue of Gabriel is in the middle of a human graveyard. While this has a really eerie layer in S2 considering that we see it after Gabriel has fallen, which is a kind of death, and now lives among the humans, there's a way of looking at it that is also in keeping with what S1's human performance artist angel was talking about-- there's not this big line between these kind of beings.

Emphasizing this? The Angel Woman isn't just dressed as an angel-- she is also wearing a dress and a human sun hat. She reflects how having a halo hanging over your head symbolizing your need to be perfect in a way that causes you to see yourself as someone who should be above humans is not just an angelic thing-- it's a very human thing, too. That's the point of these angels and demons in Good Omens. They're just like us in every way that really matters and their stories are no different at the core from what we experience.

Crowley and Aziraphale actually have it a lot better than most of the angels and demons. They have been able to live on Earth since the beginning. They aren't completely free of the regime that threatens them but they've found a way of escaping it as much as they can. They've been free to learn and explore and experiment and enjoy much more than the others have. They've been free to have a relationship with one another-- to have a friend they can trust and talk to-- which not all of the angels and demons do. (Not all humans do, either.) Of all of the less fortunate characters? Gabriel, despite having some power in Heaven, might have actually been one of the worst off.

Why is Gabriel jogging in the park on the morning of the last day of Earth? Because Gabriel likes to go for solo jogs in the park...

... just like many humans who have stressful jobs and like to wake up on Saturday morning and throw on a sweatsuit and sneakers and get outside to get some fresh air, move, and try to quiet their thoughts.

That Gabriel is already in this place in S1 is a surprising twist thrown into 1.04 that actually makes us kind of want to scream at Aziraphale 'ask him why he's fucking jogging, Az!' Aziraphale is trying to make the point that they don't need to destroy Earth but the one thing he fails to point out is that Earth is the planet that they're currently both standing on and which Gabriel seems to really be enjoying.

Gabriel couldn't agree with Aziraphale in the jogging scene, though, even if he wanted to, for the most ironic reason possible. This one:

Crowley and Aziraphale don't realize it because they're afraid of Gabriel until S2 but he's as trapped as they are. He's as watched as they are. Ducks have ears-- there's always someone listening in the fascist regime of this Heaven/Hell system. Gabriel couldn't say in a public park anything that sounds outside of what he's supposed to say, even if he wanted to, or he'd be in danger for it.

Gabriel is wearing human clothes that are appropriate to the time period he's in while he's jogging. He has a preferred park and route. He's gone through a whole thing to get to this point-- seeing this activity, learning about its benefits, deeming it appealing and something he'd like to try, getting what he needs to do it, finding a time to do so, trying it out and getting good at it... he's done all this already by this scene, showing that he's already subtly rebelling.

There is also that a lot of humans jog, at least in part, to manage mental health issues. It's prescriptive for depression and when we see Gabriel in the post-S1/pre-S2-set flashbacks, he's exhibiting signs that would have gotten him instantly diagnosed with depression had he been a human. It was not new-- more like his default state-- before talking more intimately with Beez started to help him manage it.

This might indicate that Gabriel was already in a place pre-S1 where he viewed humans as having knowledge that could benefit him and other angels-- a point of view that Crowley and Aziraphale also share. To get there, he'd have to have stopped seeing himself as superior to humans-- if he ever did in the first place, which isn't really known. Gabriel does show a surprising aptitude for subversive thinking so it's possible he never really bought the idea that they were superior beings but, even if he did, he doesn't by sometime prior to S1 because the human activity he's gotten for a hobby is one known for helping humans manage the anxiety and stress he knows he also feels.

It's also an activity that Gabriel can get away with doing because it's physical and he's The Commander of The Heavenly Host, Heaven's armed forces. No one can question why he wants to go to Earth to work out because it seems like he's just a devoted soldier when, really, he's doing it to get away from everything for a bit. Jogging gives him time and space to think and to be alone, away from Heaven. It's peaceful when he knows precious little peace. He's also quite literally running from Heaven lol and this was already happening for awhile before S1 happened, let alone S2.

You might say: ok, but Gabriel doesn't *need* to jog... he's magical!

Yes, he's magical... which seems to be like having an extra-long, somewhat-eternal backup battery. It doesn't actually mean that Gabriel doesn't need to exercise. Living beings can go a surprisingly long time repressed from what it is that they need to survive and being magical is suggested to have caused some of these angels and demons to remain alive so long without what it is that they truly need to thrive as people that they've convinced themselves that they don't actually need these things.

Sure, the angels and demons have superhuman powers but they are also very human at the same time...

In S2, Gabriel will describe having what we might call human physical sensations on his way to the bookshop. His arms got sore from holding a box at a weird angle for awhile on his walk-- just like ours would. He was cold from being naked until Aziraphale gave him a blanket. Aziraphale was winded trying to jog with him in this scene in S1. Crowley has basically developed a human sleep schedule over the years to a point that while he can survive missing a night of sleep, he feels the effects of it, as he was mentioning in S2.

To say that these characters being magical means that they're "flawless" would be to get a little "master race" gross, right? And the show does not. The angels and demons have human corporations in all shapes and sizes. Human corporations are just one option for them, even if also the most common, and those options are not built to be without any challenges-- they're built to be human.

Crowley, for instance, is basically a god in terms of power and he's also canonically far-sighted. He built the known universe but he also can't read the paper you just put in front of his eyes without his reading glasses. He can make it rain with his fingertips... and he also has an anxiety disorder. All of this is a story that is using angels and demons as metaphors for human living. We humans have more power than we think, as shown through how the magical angels and demons in the story are more "human" than many of them have been led to believe.

All of the angels and demons might not be at risk from most major human disease, for example... but that's if you're talking about things like Covid and bubonic plague... not if you're talking about the most common ailments plaguing humanity. The major supernatural characters in this story have things like anxiety disorders, depression, and PTSD. Many of them have complicated relationships with food and insecurities about their corporations. They deal with issues of loneliness and the effects of different kinds of trauma and abuse. Every one of them has trust issues for days. Aside from the main four, most of the angels and demons have no idea how hungry, tired, lonely and unfulfilled they are because they think they aren't actually supposed to want things like food, rest, creative outlets, and friendship. If they do feel a desire for these things, they think there's something wrong with them because they've been told they not to want or need in this way.

The few of the angels and demons that can get beyond the b.s. they've been taught and consider that they might not be superior to humans and might have some things in common with them? They break through and start to learn from humans.

Even though they both see each themselves as not fully human and as basically living amongst-- rather than with-- the humans, both Crowley and Aziraphale have experienced enough of the world to know that they're not terribly different from humans. They don't see a lot of their own challenges and experiences as different from that of humans and they actively seek out human knowledge and thoughts on how to manage their way through life. They recognize that their full range of emotions is not any different from that of the humans-- whether the emotions in question are the love they feel for one another or something they have to deal with, like anxiety.

As we see in S2, the choice of corporation for a supernatural being can have consequences that can affect them as a whole. Yes, these beings are more protected than humans, as they can morph into whatever they want and they have miracles that they can use to protect themselves in most situations... but they can actually die if they get into a situation dangerous to them enough, like what The Bullet Catch could have been.

Furfur said that if Crowley had missed and Aziraphale had been shot in the head, that "they might not have been able to put him together again"-- meaning, that Aziraphale could have actually died from a bullet to the head... just like how humans can. While in human form, the angels and demons' minds really are contained within their brains, like is the case with humans. Supernatural beings have a mind-body connection to their corporations of choice-- just as we do with our bodies-- and they're basically all out here choosing human bodies as a default option, right? So, how different are they from us, really? Not that much.

This would mean that their corporations do need the same things that human bodies do. The difference is that, being magical, they can go for eons without addressing these needs, whereas most of us who are only human over here get hangry after four hours without a snack and need to sleep for several hours every day in order to function.

They do need to breathe to be healthy, if not to completely stay alive, because their corporations prefer oxygen and breathing causes the human body to function properly. They can go for millennia without eating... but that doesn't at all mean that they should. When they finally do, they can eat an entire ox without a second thought and why? Because they're starving. They can magically last an absurd amount of time in their repression but they're unnecessarily suffering in doing so.

Crowley and Aziraphale know this. They've learned it themselves. That's why they're giving out warm beverages and sarcastic masturbation tutorials to whatever interested supernatural beings shows up at the door for much of S2.

This is Gabriel's office, shown to us moments after his jog in the park:

That is where he's spent thousands of years. This is his office and what counts as his home. This dude doesn't even have a chair. Look at how huge that space is and how small he seems in it. He can't go out on that balcony. This isn't an office or a house so much as it's a prison cell. This scene shows us why he jogs in the park-- it's his time in the yard during his prison sentence, basically.

Look at how we and Michael come into the scene and see that Gabriel is just staring out the window at the world, tapping his finger against his mouth, lost in thought. This is not a being who is super jazzed to destroy this place later in the day. He's up there like a damn fairy tale princess, trapped in a glass tower in the sky, looking down at the human world and wondering why it is that it's only humans can have it when they really don't seem that different from the angels and demons.

All of us humans with terrible jobs and other stressful situations can usually find a way out of it, except for maybe those of us trapped in an active war zone. What do we humans do? We sleep, we shower, we do some yoga or meditate, we enjoy stories, we make art, we have some good food, we find things that make us laugh and share them with friends and loved ones. Some of us also seek other kinds of connection as well-- a sexual and/or romantic partner. S2 shows us that Gabriel is not aromantic, as he's fallen in love with Beez-- which just emphasizes that, for thousands of years, this sort of thing was never an option for him and another need that was not being met.

Michael is correct in S2 that Gabriel doesn't have a desk to clean out. He has a single, white pedestal without any drawers onto which the occasional file folder can be placed if someone has a meeting with him. (One wonders if Heaven only even has physical file folders as an excuse to have the occasional barely-there table just to break up the expanse of empty space to keep them all from going mad.) Aside from his clothes, he does not possess a single material object, as he's not allowed to.

Imagine not owning a single book. Not having a favorite blanket. Not having a favorite mug. Not having lost these things but having never had them before at all. No presents because you have no friends. The first person to ever give Gabriel something is Beez and that hasn't happened by this point in the story.

We know Aziraphale understands this. Aziraphale wanted a home with a door he could lock and privacy enough to try to live a life of sorts with his partner and a place to store the material objects that he owns. His own, cluttered desk with a million little nooks and shelves. A chair, books, a bed he can be in with Crowley without Head Office finding out and killing them for it. That's the genius bookshop embassy that Gabriel will run to when he finally cracks but Gabriel himself?

He's had almost none of that kind of freedom for himself.

Aziraphale knows what it is to have nothing of your own and that's why he gives Gabriel his angel mug. He's literally writing Jim's name on everything that Jim owns because he knows that while it's not about material objects, Gabriel doesn't have anything of his own. It's about choice-- down here on Earth, Gabriel can choose to call himself something different. He can have a more peaceful and satisfying job and books to read and a favorite drink and a mug of his own and friends to talk to. He can try the hot chocolate and the tiny dinners if he wants without anyone judging him or trying to kill him for it. He can be free to be his own person on Earth.

Consider the contrasting shots of Gabriel in 1.04, shown staring out the window of his prison walls at the Earth he was supposed to destroy... and Jim waking up on Earth, in cozy pajamas, to look out the window of the bookshop while making himself a warm, morning drink in his own mug.

Kind of makes you want to hug him, doesn't it?

Back in 1.04, though? The scene in Gabriel's office showed us what he's up against Up there and just how isolated he is at that time. Michael is the one angel you'd think he'd be able to trust, as they've been through it together for thousands of years, but we see very clearly why Gabriel does not trust them.

Michael is a hypocrite. They talk to the demons unofficially and Gabriel has been protecting them for it from The Metatron. Yet, at the first opportunity, Michael throws Aziraphale under the bus by reporting him for doing the very same thing they are. After S2, we see that this is also a swipe at Gabriel himself-- Michael knows that Gabriel knows about Crowley and Aziraphale and has never done anything about it, even though he "should" by the rules of Heaven. This isn't just Michael selling out Aziraphale-- it's Michael taking a shot at Gabriel himself. It's a reminder that there's always someone who seeks favor with The Metatron watching and Gabriel is completely trapped-- more so, even, than Crowley & Aziraphale.

He doesn't have any choice but to tell Michael that they can pursue it but he's gloriously bitchy about all of it. He doesn't so much as blink in telling Michael that he's sure there's "a perfectly innocent explanation"-- meaning: sure, go ahead, take a shot, but I am in charge and I will continue to be doing fuck all about Aziraphale boffing Bildad the Shuite, Michael.

He also is sly as all hell when he reminds them that "there are no back channels"-- by 'back channels', you mean you're calling your demon boyfriend, have I got that right, Michael? The one I happily pretend you don't have? God, you're awful...

Michael wants Gabriel's job and the brownie points with The Metatron so they're pursuing Aziraphale to show that they're willing to go after subversive angels and they're threatening Gabriel with exposing that he's known for ages about Aziraphale and did nothing-- which makes him an accessory to it. Gabriel has no other choice but to tell Michael to keep pursuing it but it's an example of how the wolves are always circling for Gabriel and how trapped he really is. His only defense is his you're going to regret fucking with me attitude.

As Michael leaves, the scene ends on Gabriel picking up one of the pictures of Crowley and Aziraphale. He's drawn to the one of them sitting together where?

Where Gabriel himself just was.

In the park.

What would it be like to live like they do? he seems to be wondering, for probably the millionth time. How much longer am I going to be able to keep them alive? Am I going to go down with them?

Nah. It's their turn now, Gabriel...

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