#one more post for the side quest tomorrow

[coff33andb00ks]

Rule Breaker - Pt 1

max verstappen x single mom!reader

{next}

face claim: none, random pinterest find warnings: cursing, max is broody, jos is an asshole, fluff, barely proofread, idk red bull team aside from Max, Checo, and Horner... (y/n's bestie is named after my irl bestie bc she told me to write this, and y/n's son is not named after Magnussen i swear) Summary: Max has it all...right? Besides, he's too busy collecting trophies and completing side quests for anything else. Until... You moved across a whole ass ocean to start over, uprooting you and your son's lives to become social media admin for cars that drive in circles. word count: 4293 auth.note: hiii new to writing for f1 so I'm posting this in the middle of the night and hiding in bed - feedback greatly appreciated. also this is forbidden love/he falls first/friends to enemies to lovers

"Hey Max, come meet the new social media admin."

On his way out, he barely heard the words. But they registered and he immediately turned, knowing how important it was to have a good rapport with the social media personnel. He only had to meet them, then he could leave and go to the team apartment and… He didn't know. Pass time in his sim until he couldn't hold his eyes open. Maybe he'd go for a run until he was close to exhaustion. Or see if Lando was in the country and they could go out together. It was only when he was about to pass out that he was able to sleep and not be plagued with dreams.

His eyes swept the small office, swiveling to focus on the new face. She smiled, giving him a little wave as she set down her slice of pizza.

"Max, this is y/n. Y/n, this is Max."

"Hello," he said, watching as she wiped her mouth with a napkin.

"Hi, sorry." She took a sip of her drink and wiped her mouth again. "Sorry – It's so great to meet you."

She was American. Walking over, he extended his hand. "Where are you from?"

Shaking his hand, she smiled up at him. "Well most recently I was with—"

"No, no, where in America," he corrected.

"Oh! North Carolina. I try to keep the country accent to a minimum but sometimes I slip up." She motioned to the pizza box on the desk. "You want a slice?"

No, he had to leave. His work was done, he didn't need to hang around and kill his precious down time. Besides, his diet was strict for the next few days, what with the race coming up. He had to focus on… Within fifteen seconds he was sitting across from her, holding a slice in one hand. One slice wouldn't hurt, he decided as he took a bite. "How long have you been in England?"

"About three weeks?" She glanced at her watch and nodded. "Three weeks tomorrow. I was staying at an Airbnb until a week ago when I moved into my apartment."

He nodded. "Are you going to be based here or go to the races?"

"Races. Gonna be living the glamorous life of travel and hotels and surviving on caffeine and sugar," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"It's not so bad."

"I'm sure I'll get used to it. You've been doing it for, what, half your life now?"

Shrugging, he took a sip of his water. "More than that, really. Are you saying you don't travel?"

"Not like this. I lucked out with my last job because I was able to do it mostly from home. I think I went up to New York or out to Cali maybe six times total? But I know I can do it," she added when his eyebrows lifted. "It'll just take a little getting used to, especially with a little one in tow a lot of the time."

That surprised him. His eyes immediately moved to her hands, which were completely bare of rings. "A little one?"

Y/n nodded, her eyes lighting. "He's three."

"What's his name?" Max asked. It was none of his business about the boy's father, anyway, so he wasn't going to ask about him. And he didn't even care.

"Kevin." Her smile was both shy and sparkling.

His chest tightened. Kevin, he knew, was one of the most loved children in the world. "What's he like?" The words came out and only after saying them he realized he wanted to know.

"He's… He's Kevin." She laughed. "He asks a million questions and will talk to anyone about anything. He's high energy but has laser focus when it's something that interests him – Like the other day I took him to the park. I expected him to be running around and trying out all the swings and stuff, but he spent an hour crawling in the grass following a caterpillar."

"Laser focus can be good at times," Max told her, earning a warm smile.

"I know. He comes by it honest because I do the same thing when I'm working."

"Will you be bringing him to the races?" Finished with his pizza, he shook his head when she nudged the box towards him and sat back to finish his water.

"Yeah. Not all of them, but to the next few. I already talked to Mr. Horner and Wanda about it," she said quickly, as though expecting him to be upset about her bringing her child to work. "He won't be in the way. My best friend – Ellie, she's his godmother – is traveling with me to Imola and Monaco to watch him for me. But her new job starts the first of June so I have to make arrangements before then."

"Does he like racing?"

"He's three," she deadpanned. "He loves anything with cars or trucks."

"You'll have to bring him to the track—"

"He also loves fart jokes and bugs."

Max blinked at her, snorting on a laugh when she grinned at him. "Fair enough."

"I do have to warn you, though," she said carefully, standing to gather the napkins and throw them into the trash. Closing the pizza box, she used a clean napkin to wipe off the desk. "He likes McLaren."

"It's the orange livery isn't it?" Max sighed. When she nodded, he shrugged. "I'll do my best to not hate him."

She giggled, letting out a snort.

And, for the first time in six months, Max felt lighter.

*-*

"There's my lil doodle bug," Viv cooed as Kevin leapt off the couch and ran towards her. Dropping her purse and work bag, she scooped him into a hug. "Hi sweetheart. How was your day, hm?"

Her son grinned, squeezing her tight. "I fell in poop!"

Viv froze for two seconds and leaned back a little. "What kind of poop?"

"Dog. Yes, it was fresh. Yes, he had a bath. Yes, I washed his clothes," Ellie announced as she came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Your dinner's almost done – How was work?"

Viv kissed her son's cheek and set him down so she could pick up her bags. "I spent the day reading protocols and policies and signing contracts. Oh, and getting my uniform."

Ellie took the knapsack stuffed with team shirts and jackets. "Good thing you love blue huh?"

"No kidding." She glanced over to Kevin, who had climbed back onto the couch and resumed lining his hot wheels along the back. "How was he today?"

"He was fine. You worry too much, mama," Ellie said gently, following y/n to her bedroom. Setting the knapsack down, she took the work bag and reached inside to switch off y/n's work phone. "Ah, ah, you're off now. You don't officially start work until Monday, so they can't expect you to be on call."

"Yes ma'am." Y/n held her hands up in surrender. "I'm gonna change and get him tucked in then I'll eat, promise."

"Perfect. Bridgerton tonight?" Ellie asked on her way out the door.

"You know it!" y/n called after her.

Once she'd changed into sweats and an old t-shirt she went to the living room. "C'mon, doodle bug," she said softly, smiling when Kevin slid off the couch without hesitation. She helped him pack his cars into their cubby, telling him about her boring day at work while she led him to the bathroom so he could brush his teeth. Then to her bedroom, wishing she had been able to afford a larger apartment so he could have his own space. But he didn't seem to mind, and more often than not he ended up crawling into her bed during the night. Something she treasured, because she knew that all too soon he would be "too big" to share a bed with his mama.

Three storybooks and a rambling made up tale about a one-eyed dragon and the princess that saved him from the evil knight later, she pressed a kiss to his cheek and turned off the light. "Good night, sweetheart. Sweet dreams," she whispered before she left the room.

"So I met Max Verstappen today," she told Ellie a few minutes later while fixing her drink.

"Ooo Mr Tu Tu Du Du himself?"

Y/n snorted. "Yeah, that one." The chicken alfredo with a side of broccoli looked so much more appetizing than the greasy pizza she'd had for a late lunch, and she almost felt like she'd cheated on her best friend for ordering takeout.

"What's he like?" Ellie asked, scooping a little more sauce over the noodles.

"He's nice."

"Just nice?"

"I mean, he asked me surface level questions and laughed at my lame jokes? Yeah, nice." Y/n pulled her plate away before Ellie could push more food onto it and sat down to eat. "Everyone's been so nice, Ellie…"

Her friend squeezed her shoulder. "I'm so glad. I have good news, too."

Y/n lifted her eyebrows, unable to speak because her mouth was full.

Ellie sat down, smiling brightly. "I spoke to HR today and Kev will be able to use the daycare."

Gulping down her mouthful of food, y/n gasped. "Oh that's great!" she cried, feeling the weight of worry that had been plaguing her for three weeks lift. "They're sure?"

"Yep, you just have to come in with me before the first and sign a document giving me permission to take him from the premises."

"Excellent, we can go in the morning? I have to go in after lunch to get my kit. Camera, laptop, all that. And Wanda told me to get more shirts so I don't have to worry about laundry while on the road – Oh and I'll be getting our passes."

"Kevin is so excited about Italy. He wants to see the leaning tower of pizza."

"Bless his heart, maybe I can take him one day."

Plans made, she finished her late dinner and did the washing up then changed into her pajamas before settling on the couch to watch Bridgerton. They were rewatching the series so she didn't feel guilty about scrolling her social media, finally biting the bullet and following all of the RedBull people she knew from headquarters.

"You are the bane of my existence… and the object of all my desires."

"Ugh," Y/N and Ellie whined in unison.

"So much nicer than you've had me hard since we met," y/n muttered.

"Let's be real, practically anything is better than that," Ellie agreed.

They finished the episode and y/n headed to bed, keeping as quietly as possible even though she knew her son could sleep through anything. Digging her work phone from her bag, she powered it on to check for any missed messages, smiling slightly when she saw Max had added her on WhatsApp. Adding him back, she was about to turn the phone off again when a new message popped up.

👋🏻

Rolling her eyes, she replied with the same emoji and waited a few seconds before plugging the phone in and turning on do not disturb. She wasn't going to have a late night chat with Max Verstappen of all people. He was probably just being nice, she told herself as she brushed her teeth and did her skincare. Wanda had told her that Max added everyone but rarely messaged anyone aside from Mr. Horner or the engineers.

Besides, she wasn't there to make friends, she reminded herself as she climbed into bed. She could be friendly, but she was there to do a job.

And no flirting with him either, she thought, immediately wondering why the idea had popped into her mind. She would never – okay, she might, if unintentionally. She knew it was a protective thing, knew it was because she had the undesirable need to have everyone like her. But she couldn't do it. Not with him, especially. He'd probably laugh in her face. He was younger than her and probably had a never ending line of gorgeous women waiting to please him.

Before she switched off the lamp she glanced over at her sleeping son. A living, breathing, very real reminder of what she'd gone through just four years ago. And she knew she couldn't go through that again. She wasn't strong enough. She refused to endure that torture and heartache. Kevin needed her, so she had to be strong for him.

Not to mention there was a no hanky-panky clause in her contract?

She had barely closed her eyes when she heard his toddler bed creak. Lying there, she listened to his feet whispering against the rug, smiling in the dark when he slowly slid the covers back.

"Mama," he whispered, and she reached for him. He snuggled close, tucking his head under her chin as she pulled the covers over them.

"Love you, sweetheart," she murmured, pressing a kiss into his hair.

"Love you, Mama."

*-*

"I think it's good, yeah," Max said, eyes scanning the screens of data from the upgrades. "It'll be great for turn seven." Nodding, he listened to the engineers as they went over potential upgrades for Monaco. Once the meeting was finished he grabbed his water bottle and left the room, ignoring the almost immediate phone call from his father. He knew it was his dad without checking, and strode down the hall, intent on leaving and heading straight for the airport to go home. Where he could ignore everything and everyone until Sunday when it was time to fly to Italy.

Rounding the corner, he lurched to a stop as a small child darted in front of him, his giggles echoing down the corridor. The little boy stopped and looked up at Max, blinking slowly.

"Hi!" He waved.

"Hello." Max heard rapid footsteps and glanced up to see y/n iquickly approaching.

"Kevin Scott—"

"I've got him," Max told her with a quick wave, squatting down to the boy's level. "So you're Kevin?"

The boy nodded, light blonde curls bouncing on his head. "I'm Kevin. That's Mama."

"I'm Max. I heard a lot about you."

Kevin's eyes widened. "You know Mama?"

"About this much." Max held his thumb and index finger barely a centimeter apart. He quickly looked to y/n, who was walking up behind Kevin. "I work with her."

"Ohh… She's gonna take me to see cars. D'you like cars Mister Max?" he asked seriously. As though cars were the most important thing in the universe.

"More than I like myself some days," Max quipped, reaching to check the miniature car the boy was holding in his hand. "I drive one like this."

Kevin gasped. "Do you got it here?"

Max chuckled. "We have a lot. Do you want to see them?"

"Please," the boy said, and Max couldn't have said no under any circumstances.

"You have to ask your mum," he said gently. "And maybe say sorry for running away from her?"

Kevin immediately turned to his mother. "Mama I sorry. Can Mister Max take me to cars?"

She sighed, squatting down to fix his shorts. "We've gotta be more careful, sweetheart. And yes, Mister Max can take us to see the cars."

Kevin spun to face Max again. "She said yes!"

Grinning, Max nodded and stood.

"Thank you," y/n said softly. "I'm sor—"

"He's three, yeah?" Max reached to place his hand on the boy's head, gently guiding him closer when he started to wander off. "Don't apologize for him being a child."

She tipped her head at that, then nodded, grabbing hold of Kevin's hand as Max turned to lead them back down the hallway he'd just left. "I only came by to get my kit, and his aunt had paperwork at her new workplace to finish up, so I had to bring him."

"I'm glad you did." Max gave her a gentle smile, using his card to open the door leading to the back of headquarters. "Have you been back here?"

"Only on my tour the other day."

"Just stick with me," he said. They wouldn't be entering the engineer or design areas, only taking the corridor to the garage. Otherwise they'd have to travel all the way to the main entrance and walk around to the back, which would be tedious for her son.

"I'm under contract and signed an NDA, and it's not like I'd know where to go to sell team secrets," she told him. "And I wouldn't even know what I overheard."

"Not a car fan?" he asked, accepting the model car Kevin was shoving at him. Slipping it into his pocket, he guided them along the curving corridor.

"Eh… Kinda? I like racing. I don't understand all the mechanics to it, I just like the adrenaline of watching twenty guys drive really fast. And I can admire good craftsmanship, like a Bugatti or a McLaren, ya know?"

"What do you drive?" Max asked, using his card to open the door to the garage. Met with the faint aroma of rubber and asphalt, he inhaled deeply, catching with it a lighter, more pleasant scent.

"Nothing at the moment. I've been taking an Uber to and from the apartment," she explained. "I'll probably get a used car after my first paycheck."

Max furrowed his brows, stopping on the catwalk. "You haven't gotten paid yet?"

"No? Well, only my signing bonus, and that's gone to household necessities like rent and food. It's fine, Max, I don't need a car right now."

What are you going to do, give her one of yours? he thought, reaching to Kevin and lifting the boy to his hip so he could carry him down the stairs to the main level. Kevin was already oohing and aahing over the neat rows of cars. "It's just me, Brandon," he called, seeing the member of the security team at the other end of the garage. "A quick tour for a new friend, yeah?"

Brandon waved and disappeared around the corner.

At the bottom of the stairs, Max set Kevin down, ushering him to the nearest car. The boy's excitement was contagious, and Max gleefully told him about each one that he'd driven, helping the boy climb into each and press buttons on the steering wheel. Laughing when Kevin made racecar noises, he pulled out his phone to pull up some videos for sound effects. Swiping away the notifications from his dad, he turned up the volume so the engine sounds echoed in the garage, enjoying Kevin's childish glee.

"This one you know," he said, guiding him to the most recent addition. Lifting him into the seat, he squatted down. "This is a car I drove last year, which—" He pulled the model car from his pocket and set it on top of the steering column. "—is just like the one you have."

"Wow." Kevin looked at him with pure awe. "Did you win?"

"I did. And I won the championship too."

"You're a champ-een, Mister Max?" the boy gasped.

"I am."

"Like Lightning McQueen?"

"You could say that," he chuckled, affectionately ruffling the boy's curls. Glancing over at y/n, he paused when he saw she was holding up her phone.

She peered at him over the top. "Is it okay to take pictures?"

"Of course." He had a feeling she'd already taken dozens. He stepped out of the way so she could get photos of Kevin in the car, then lifted him out once she tucked her phone away. "Have you seen the trophies?"

"No. Can we see 'em, Mister Max? Please?"

"You have to ask your mum." Turning, he sent y/n a pleading look as Kevin asked permission.

"As long as Mister Max doesn't mind," she said, rolling her eyes when Kevin squealed yay.

"It's a long walk, do you want me to carry you?"

Kevin squirmed, wriggling so he was piggybacking. "Thank you Mister Max."

His chest tightened, and he reached to adjust the boy's legs around his middle. "You're welcome, Kevin. We do have to make a stop on the way to the trophy case, though."

Next to him, y/n cleared her throat. "I can take him if you've got something to do."

"No, it's fine, a quick stop," Max assured her, motioning for her to go up the stairs first.

"A pit stop?" Kevin asked, giggling as Max jogged up the steps.

"Exactly that. No more than ten seconds," he promised.

Fifteen minutes later, he was squatting down to fix the collar of Kevin's new shirt. "There you go, mate. What do you think?"

Kevin grinned and gave him a thumb's up.

Max looked up at y/n, who rolled her eyes. "He has to be Team Red Bull," he explained with a shrug, adjusting Kevin's new cap with a grin. Thanking the merch manager, he handed over the bag of goodies he'd grabbed and motioned for Kevin to climb onto his back.

"Thank you!" Kevin called, waving enthusiastically as he was carried out.

"Thank you, Max," y/n murmured while they walked towards reception. "But please don't get him anything else."

"I won't," he said softly. "If I overstepped—"

"No, no, it's fine. He'll wear the shirts until they're too small and he'll play with the models until they fall apart. I just don't want him to think he'll get this type of treatment all the time."

"I understand." He nodded. She didn't want her son to be spoiled. Which he found admirable. "…So giving him one of my old cars is out of the question?"

She halted, jaw dropping. "Max!"

"A joke!" he promised, flashing her a grin as he jogged ahead.

"Not funny," she scoffed behind him, and he heard her huff as she ran to catch up. "Those things cost probably a million—"

Max swung around, easily catching Kevin and swinging him back onto his back. "The car for Miami was about sixteen million."

Her eyes widened. "Sixteen—" She pressed her hands together right in front of her mouth. "Million? As in sixteen then six zeroes behind it?"

Nodding, he started walking backwards, amused at her reaction. She was staring at him in shock, and her son was giggling. "It's hard to pinpoint an exact cost, because we reuse some components from race to race. A chassis, or wings, yeah? If you really wanted to know I can pull up the data and get the price for each part—"

"No," she said, shaking her head slowly. "Please don't. I'd probably faint."

"It's an expensive sport, y/n," he reminded her.

"Yeah no shit," she muttered, exhaling harshly. "I've got so much to learn."

"You'll be fine." He'd meant it to come out in an offhand manner. A generic it's okay so feelings wouldn't be hurt. But it came out gently, laced with reassurance and promise. And, before he could stop himself, his mouth opened again. "If you have any questions you can ask me."

"I can Google," she told him.

"I can change my Wikipedia to say I'm eighty-six. Doesn't make it true," he quipped.

To his relief, she laughed. "Fair point. I'll be sure and ask you."

He turned his attention back to Kevin, swinging him from his back to his hip. Reception was empty, and he set the boy down so he could explore the various displays. "He can't hurt anything," he reassured her, knowing she was watching carefully as Kevin ran over to a wing displayed on the wall.

"I just worry," she sighed.

"Why do you sound like you're apologizing?" Folding his arms over his chest, he watched Kevin walk around the large room, drinking it all in. "You're his mother, you're supposed to worry. If you didn't you would have to apologize."

"Thank you."

"He's a good kid, y/n," he said softly.

"I think so too." He could hear the smile in her voice and turned slightly to see it on her face.

Every other time he'd been in this room the weather outside had been cloudy or rainy. He couldn't remember the sun ever shining as he'd stood there to soak in all the history. Until now. It poured through the windows, causing the trophies in the cases to sparkle and the polished floor to gleam. It shone into her eyes, and he could only stare at her as she squinted a little, a tiny dimple appearing in her left cheek.

God, she was lovely.

She glanced at him and his breathing kickstarted. Unconsciously licking his lips, he cleared his throat. "You seem to be doing well, for a single mom."

Her smile faltered and he mentally kicked himself. She looked to Kevin, who was studying the Red Bull logo on the wall, and looked at Max again. "I didn't have a choice."

"I'm sorry," he said automatically.

"Oh he's not dead." She watched her son, her smile gone. "Just dead to us."

"Then I'm sorry for bringing it up." It had ruined the day. Well, alright, not the day but the moment. They'd been having fun, he'd been having fun.

You always fuck up don't you?

His jaw clenched as the angry voice from years ago echoed in his mind.

"It's okay, Max." Her gentle voice cut through the echoes of the past and he forced his jaw to relax.

Nodding, he uncrossed his arms and called to Kevin, taking him by the hand and leading him to the towering trophy case. "Come on, y/n, time to learn some history."

She snorted on a laugh but joined them, and he could tell she was paying attention as he rattled off years and races and drivers to Kevin.

You're going to fuck this up too, the voice sneered.

[buckets-and-trees]

Red, White & True: Boston & New York [14/17]

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 9.1k (yes, another long one!) Summary: On the eve of the election, nerves and emotions are high, but so are your hopes for the future as a tight race becomes impossibly tighter when so many people doubted a third candidate could make a deep run. Regardless of how things turn out, you're ready to face the fact that your life will never be the same again.

Content/Warnings: political/campaign policy and discussions, marriage of political convenience, slow burn, really the slowest burn, strangers to lovers, EXPLICIT SMUT finally (vaginal fingering, cock stroking, breast play, vaginal intercourse)

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

Author Notes: I missed getting a Friday posting out, but that's because these two had a lot to do and say in this chapter. To be honest, if I cut out all of the side characters and political plot, we'd shave down significantly, but that's part of your story with Steve, too.

Previous Chapter | Series

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

[NOVEMBER 1 - LATE EVENING - COLUMBUS TO BOSTON]

The campaign plane hums around you, a cocoon of noise both soothing and maddening. You've been staring at the same paragraph in your briefing notes for ten minutes, the words blurring together as exhaustion tugs at the edges of your consciousness. Fourteen states in thirteen days. It shouldn't be possible, and yet here you are, somehow still standing—or rather, sitting—in the final stretch of the most grueling marathon of your life.

Two weeks. Two weeks of campaign schedules that have kept you and Steve apart more than together, crisscrossing the country like stars with intersecting orbits—occasionally aligning for campaign appearances together before spinning away again to cover more territory. 

You glance at your watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. Your motorcade was delayed in traffic, so you didn’t make it to the tarmac to board the plane to see Steve before his intelligence briefing started, and now it has already run twenty minutes longer than scheduled. The private meeting area at the front of the plane has been sealed off, transformed into a temporary SCIF—Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility—for the classified briefing, with Secret Service agents positioned like sentinels outside the door.

You make a conscious effort not to glare at the agents - it’s not their fault, they’re only doing their job. But inside you feel very huffy, knowing the precious hours together before landing in Boston are dwindling by the second.

You return your gaze to the briefing book in your lap, silently mouthing the words to force your tired brain to absorb them. Tomorrow's schedule in Boston includes a visit to a community health center in Roxbury, followed by meetings with healthcare advocates—you need to know these statistics cold. But the numbers swim before your eyes as the plane encounters a pocket of turbulence, jostling you in your seat.

Across the aisle, Sam catches your eye. He's been watching you fidget for the past half hour, his expression knowing as always.

"He'll be out soon," Sam says, his voice low enough that only you can hear it over the drone of the engines.

You sigh, closing the briefing book. "How can you tell?"

“I can’t, I’m just trying to make you feel better,” he replies with a wink. 

“It’s only working a little bit,” you say. 

Sophia is on his other side, and you smile a little, seeing that she’s managed to nod off, her head resting on Sam’s shoulder. She’s worked herself to the bone every day of the campaign, and she’s become such a rock to you. A rock and a trusted friend. 

So has Sam. So have so many of the campaign staff, the lot of you walking through fire day in and day out together for this brilliantly mad quest to try and get Steve elected. 

"Speaking of making me feel better," you say, suddenly struck by something you've been meaning to say for weeks, "I never properly thanked you." 

Sam raises an eyebrow. "For what?" 

"For all the interference you ran with my mom while she was on the campaign trail with us a couple of weeks ago." You lean forward slightly, lowering your voice even more. "You and Sophia did a lot to make her feel comfortable in this whole scene. She adored you, but I know you also took advantage of opportunities to shift her perspective on Steve and our whole arrangement.”

Sam's expression softens, a smile warming his features. "Your mom's great. She cares about you a lot - her worries were normal." 

You smile wider. “You did the same with me, too, the day before I married Steve. And you did it with Steve and Bucky for me back in September. You see people and you build bridges between people.”

Sam's smile turns slightly embarrassed, but his eyes hold yours steadily. "Just part of the service," he jokes, but then grows more serious. "Everyone deserves a chance to understand each other. Especially people who matter to each other." 

"Well, thank you," you say simply. 

"You're welcome." Sam shifts, careful not to disturb Sophia. "Besides, your mom was right about some things. This whole arrangement was crazy." 

You laugh softly. "Was?" 

"Is," he corrects with a grin. "But it's working out better than any of us could have predicted, isn't it?" 

Before you can answer, the door at the front of the plane opens. Steve emerges, followed by a somber-looking woman in a dark suit whom you recognize as Maria Hill. 

You straighten in your seat, drinking in the sight of Steve after three days apart. He looks tired—more than tired, something about his expression unsettles you immediately. There's a tightness around his eyes, a gravity to his movements that wasn't there when you spoke over FaceTime this morning. 

Steve's gaze finds yours immediately. His expression softens, but the tension doesn't fully leave his features. He exchanges a few final words with Maria, their heads bent close together, her voice too low for you to hear over the drone of the engines. 

You watch as Steve nods once, decisively, before Maria turns and heads toward the rear of the plane where some of the intelligence staff are seated. Steve makes his way down the aisle toward you, stopping briefly to speak with Jake and Elspeth. 

When he finally reaches you, the knot of concern in your chest tightens. Up close, the strain around his eyes is more pronounced, the set of his jaw rigid.

"Hi," you say softly as he slides into the seat beside you. 

"Hi," Steve replies, his voice low and slightly rough, as if he's been talking for hours. His hand finds yours immediately, fingers interlacing with a gentle pressure that feels almost desperate in its need for connection. 

You search his face. "What's wrong?" 

Most of the staff are either working, sleeping, or wearing noise-canceling headphones, but he still lowers his voice to a near whisper. "Nothing immediate. Just... concerning intelligence." 

The muscles in your stomach tighten. Since Steve became a serious contender in the presidential race, he's been receiving regular intelligence briefings—a tradition for major party candidates to ensure a smooth transition should they win. You've grown accustomed to the routine, to the way he emerges from these meetings with a thoughtful, typically troubled expression. Most of the information he’s given in those meetings is also highly sensitive if not outright classified. 

You take his hand in both of yours, bringing it to rest in your lap. "Is it something you can talk about?" you ask, keeping your voice equally low.

Steve lets out a long, slow breath, some of the tension leaving his shoulders as you hold his hand. His thumb traces gentle circles on your skin, a grounding gesture that seems as much for his benefit as for yours. 

"I can't discuss the details," he says after a moment, his voice barely audible over the engines. "But there are situations developing that will need immediate attention after the election." His eyes meet yours, troubled and deep. "No matter who wins."

You nod, understanding the weight behind his words. Steve has always carried the burdens of leadership differently than others—not as opportunities or challenges, but as sacred obligations to the people counting on him.

"Is there anything I can do?" you ask, knowing there likely isn't but needing to offer anyway. 

"There is," Steve says, his voice softening as he shifts closer to you. "Just be here." 

He leans back in his seat, his eyes closing briefly as he draws a deep breath. When they open again, there's something vulnerable in his gaze that makes your chest ache. 

"I've missed you," he admits quietly. "These past three days felt like three weeks." 

"I know," you whisper, squeezing his hand. "The swing through Wisconsin, Illinois, and Indiana was productive, but every event I kept thinking of what you would say, how you would handle it."

A small smile touches his lips. "And how did hypothetical me do?" 

"Not nearly as well as real me," you tease, drawing the laugh from him you'd hoped for. "But you would have been proud. Polling suggests we gained ground with suburban women in all three states."

Steve's smile broadens, some of the tension leaving his face. "I am proud. Especially of that interview you did in Indianapolis." His hand finds the nape of your neck, fingers gently massaging the tension there. 

You lean into his touch, your eyes briefly closing at the relief his fingers bring to muscles knotted from days of campaign stress. 

"I just answered honestly," you say, remembering the local news interview that had unexpectedly gone viral after you'd spoken candidly about healthcare access in rural communities. 

"That's what made it powerful," Steve says. His voice drops even lower, meant only for you. "Two days left. Can you believe it?"

You shake your head, still processing the whirlwind that has been your life since that fateful meeting with Pepper Potts in May. "Sometimes it feels like we've been campaigning forever. Other times, I can't believe how quickly it's all happened." 

Steve's eyes hold yours, something profound shifting in their blue depths. "I keep thinking about where we were six months ago. How impossible this all seemed." His voice is a gentle rumble that vibrates through you. "Now we're two days from potentially—" 

"Don't," you whisper, pressing a finger lightly to his lips. "No jinxing it." 

He smiles against your finger, then captures your hand and kisses your palm. "Superstitious now?" 

"Cautiously optimistic," you correct, feeling the familiar flutter in your chest that his touch evokes. 

The plane encounters another patch of turbulence, more pronounced this time. Steve's arm instinctively wraps around your shoulders, steadying you as the aircraft shudders. You lean into him, and the turbulence settles. 

"That's what I like to hear," Steve murmurs, his arm remaining around you even after the turbulence passes. "Cautiously optimistic is exactly where we need to be." 

You rest your head against his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of him—that perfect blend of clean cotton, subtle cologne, and something that is uniquely Steve. Despite the exhaustion dragging at your limbs, despite the worry you'd seen etched in his features moments ago, this closeness grounds you in a way nothing else can. And once again, as the two of you quietly converse, tucked comfortably into one another, you fight but are unable to keep from falling asleep in his arms. 

You wake to gentle pressure against your temple—Steve's lips brushing a kiss there, his breath warm against your skin. 

"We're starting our descent," he murmurs. "You've been out for about an hour." 

Blinking away sleep, you straighten in your seat, embarrassed. "I didn't mean to—" 

"You needed it," Steve says, his hand still resting comfortably on your knee. Through the window, you can see the scattered constellation of Boston's lights growing larger below. 

"Did you sleep at all?" you ask, noting the lingering tension around his eyes. 

He shakes his head. "Too much on my mind." 

You reach up to smooth a strand of hair that's fallen across his forehead. "The briefing?" 

"That. The polls. Tomorrow's schedule.”

"The usual campaign insomnia," you say with understanding, your fingers lingering at his temple where you can feel the tension gathered there. 

"Something like that," he agrees, but there's a note in his voice that tells you it's more than just pre-election jitters. 

The pilot’s voice crackles over the intercom, announcing your imminent arrival. Around you, the campaign staff begin to stir, gathering materials, checking phones that had been silenced during the flight. You deplane and the team piles into a dozen vehicles waiting on the tarmac to take you all directly to the hotel to catch the limited amount of sleep you’ll be afforded before things start back up in the morning. 

[NOVEMBER 2 - BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS]

Morning arrives too soon, the pale November light filtering through the hotel curtains you forgot to fully close. For a moment, you lie perfectly still, orienting yourself in yet another unfamiliar room. Boston. The final day before the election.

The other side of the bed is empty. Though everything between you and Steve has changed, deepened, and grown, you are still dancing around sharing a room and a bed. After that night you asked him to stay with you in Tucson, your mom had come for those next few days on the campaign, and then your itineraries had split you up geographically, but even on the nights of overlap, there seemed to be this half-spoken avoidance. You have been hesitant of exploring the intimacy and domesticity of sleeping together routinely in this environment. There are so many things you and Steve have said to each other and about each other, but there are still things that have been left unsaid, and the endless circuit of the campaign cycle didn’t seem like the place to say any of it. 

The digital clock reads 5:47, and though you’re annoyed you’ve woken up before your scheduled 6am start to the day, you are glad for the precious few minutes of sleepy solitude you still have. You allow yourself the luxury of stretching, muscles protesting after weeks of constant movement and too little rest. The sheets smell of hotel laundry—a scent that has become almost as familiar as your old home.

Your phone vibrates on the nightstand. A text from Steve: Good morning. Couldn't sleep, went for a run. Briefing and breakfast at 7?

You smile at his predictability—yo’ve heard about his runs, and even on the precipice of potentially becoming the next president, Steve Rogers seeks clarity in the rhythm of his feet against pavement. You don’t expect it to change, regardless of how the election results go. You type back: Yes to breakfast. Coffee already necessary. Be safe.

The three dots appear immediately, then: Always am. Sleep well?

Better than expected, but not long enough, you reply honestly. Hotel pillows are growing on me.

Dangerous adaptation, he responds with a laughing emoji. Then, a moment later: Going to catch sunrise over Boston Harbor. Wish you were here.

The simple sentiment warms you more than it should. Six months ago, such casual intimacy between you would have been unimaginable. Now it feels as natural as breathing. 

Bed better than running, you send back.

His response is immediate: Debatable. Will bring you coffee when I get back.

You smile, setting your phone down and pulling yourself reluctantly from the warmth of the bed. The hotel room is elegant but impersonal, like all the others you've occupied during this campaign—luxury without personality, comfort without home. You've become an expert at navigating unfamiliar bathrooms in the dark, at finding the light switches and remembering which side of the bed you chose the night before. 

The shower helps clear the fog of too little sleep. As the hot water cascades over your shoulders, you mentally rehearse today's schedule: the community health center visit, lunch with healthcare advocates, an afternoon rally at Boston University, and then the massive evening event at Faneuil Hall. The final push before Election Day. 

By the time you emerge from the bathroom, wrapped in the hotel's plush robe, your phone is lighting up with notifications. Campaign updates, news alerts, text messages from Sam about last-minute scheduling changes. The bubble of morning solitude pops, reality rushing in with the force of a breaking dam. 

You dress quickly in the outfit laid out the night before—a carefully selected ensemble that projects both approachability and professionalism. The campaign's messaging team has fine-tuned every visual element of these final appearances, down to the color of your scarf, which matches the campaign's signature blue. 

A soft knock at the door comes just as you're fastening your watch. Through the peephole, you see Steve, looking refreshed despite the early hour, a cardboard tray holding two coffee cups in one hand. 

"Morning," he says when you open the door, his smile warming his tired eyes. He's showered and changed since his run, dressed in a navy suit that makes his eyes even more blue. "Coffee as promised."

"You're a lifesaver," you murmur, accepting the cup he offers. "How was the harbor?" you ask, stepping out into the hall to walk down to breakfast with him.

"Peaceful. Water was like glass. Sun coming up behind the city." He pauses, something wistful crossing his features. "Made me wish I had my sketchbook."

You take a long sip of coffee, savoring the perfect blend—he remembers exactly how you like it. "When this is all over, we should come back. You can sketch all day if you want." 

Steve's smile deepens, creating those little crinkles around his eyes that you've grown to love. "I'll hold you to that." 

The two of you walk in comfortable silence down the rest of the hallway to the elevator, Secret Service agents quietly flanking you. Steve's presence beside you is solid, reassuring. In the mirrored walls of the elevator, you catch glimpses of yourselves—a little tired, a little worn, but standing tall. The potential First Couple. The thought still feels surreal.

"Sleep well?" he asks softly as the elevator descends. 

"You already asked me that," you remind him with a smile. 

"I know. Just checking if your answer changes in person." His hand finds the small of your back as the doors open, a gentle, protective gesture that's become second nature. 

Another hotel conference room has been transformed into another campaign outpost, screens displaying polling data and schedules lining the walls. Campaign staff mill about, some already deep in conversation, others nursing coffee with the glazed look of people running on fumes and determination. 

Sam spots you first, raising his coffee cup in greeting from where he's huddled with Sophia, Bucky and Jake. You're about to head their way when you notice a familiar figure standing near the breakfast buffet—Maria Hill, the same intelligence officer from the plane. She's not alone. A man in an impeccable dark suit stands beside her, his posture military-straight, his expression grave as he surveys the room with calculated precision.

Steve's hand tenses almost imperceptibly against your back. You glance up at him, catching the slight hardening of his jaw, the narrowing of his eyes. 

"What is it?" you ask quietly. 

"Agent Calloway," Steve acknowledges with a slight nod, his voice carefully neutral despite the tension you feel radiating through his palm against your back. "I wasn't expecting to see you in Boston." 

The man—Agent Calloway—turns toward you both, his weathered face revealing nothing as he approaches with measured steps. He's older than Maria, perhaps in his mid-fifties, with close-cropped greying hair and eyes that seem to catalog every detail of the room in continuous sweeps. 

"Captain Rogers," he says, extending a hand to Steve. "I’ve been assigned to personally oversee the enhanced security protocols for these final campaign events." His handshake is brief, then his attention shifts to you with professional efficiency. "Ma'am," he says with a respectful nod.

You return the greeting, a sense of unease creeping up your spine. Enhanced security protocols. The words are heavy, unexpected. Should you be more worried?

You offer what you hope is a polite smile, but Calloway's steel-gray eyes catch the flicker of worry that crosses your face. His expression softens marginally—the change so subtle you might have missed it if you weren't studying him so intently. 

"Please don't be concerned, ma'am," he says, his voice dropping to a more conversational tone. "Enhanced protocols are standard procedure for the final days before an election. The heightened visibility, larger crowds—it's all part of the calculus." 

You nod, attempting to look reassured, but you can feel Steve's body beside yours, taut as a bowstring. 

"Standard procedure," Steve repeats, the words measured and careful. His face maintains the pleasant, diplomatic expression he's perfected during the campaign, but you know the mask. “It seems a bit unnece–”

“Captain Rogers,” Calloway interrupts, “sir, let me stop you right there. My men and women and I are more than aware of your capability to defend yourself. They assigned me because I’m the one who will take the least amount of pushback from you. We know you’re an Avenger. Should anything happen, we would not be surprised to have you fighting and defending alongside us.” 

You don’t even have to look, you can feel the frown emanating from Steve. You keep your eyes on Calloway’s face. 

“Our responsibility is to keep an eye on everyone and everything to keep you and the public safe. Your responsibility right now is to campaign. If elected, it will be to lead the American people. That’s why we’re here. Let us do our job so you can do yours.”

“This old man is retired anyway,” Sam chimes in, stepping up next to Steve and clapping him on the back, jostling him on purpose to loosen him up. 

The tension in Steve's shoulders doesn't fully dissipate, but his expression softens at Sam's intervention. He nods once at Calloway, conceding the point without quite relinquishing his concern. 

"I appreciate the dedication," Steve says, his voice measured. "Just make sure your team keeps my staff safe - I’m no more important than them."

"Consider it done," Calloway responds with crisp efficiency. "We've been briefed on all locations and have advance teams in place. They will monitor and update throughout the day.”

Maria Hill approaches, tablet in hand. "If you have a moment, Captain, there are some logistics we should review before your first event." Her tone is professional, but you catch the subtle urgency beneath. 

Steve's eyes meet yours, a silent communication passing between you. "I'll catch up with you," he says, his hand squeezing yours briefly before following Maria and Calloway to a quieter corner of the room. 

Sam stays beside you, his presence steady and reassuring. "Don't worry," he says quietly as you both watch Steve step away. "Extra security is normal for the final push." 

"Is it?" you ask, unable to keep the doubt from your voice. 

"Yes," Sam insists, then adds with a half-smile, "though having Hill still on site for national security and intelligence updates is... possibly not."

You turn to face him fully. "Sam." 

He meets your gaze, “I’m genuinely not concerned yet - I’m alert, but not concerned. Bucky agrees, he thinks whatever situation is developing is probably serious, but that Maria’s staying close more out of a personal sense of duty than any real safety concern.”

You frown. “Are you just saying that to make me feel better?”

“No. I’ve been around these heroes for years, and I know sometimes they try and save us regular folk from bad news, but in the end that never helps. I don’t think Bucky will hold back with you, and I don’t think Steve would intentionally either, but I can definitely promise I’ll bullshit you now and then, but I’ll always be straight with you when it matters.”

You nod, finding comfort in Sam's directness. "Thank you. I appreciate that." 

"Come on," Sam says, guiding you toward the breakfast buffet. "You need to eat something. Big day ahead." 

You follow him, but your eyes drift back to Steve, who's now leaning over a tablet with Maria and Calloway, his brow furrowed in concentration. The three of them speak in low voices, their expressions grave. The knot of unease in your stomach tightens. 

"He's concerned," you murmur, more to yourself than to Sam. 

"He's always concerned," Sam counters gently. "It's his default setting. Has been since I met him." 

You smile despite yourself. "I've noticed." 

Sophia waves you over to a table where she's sitting with Bucky and Jake, campaign materials spread between their plates. As you approach, you notice the dark circles under Sophia's eyes, the slight tremor in Jake's hand as he lifts his coffee cup. Everyone is feeling the weight of these final hours.

"Morning," Jake greets you, sliding a folder across the table. "Final numbers from last night's polling.”

"How's it looking?" you ask, opening the folder as you settle into a chair next to Sophia. 

"It's tight," Jake says. "The national polls still have Monroe up by two, but within the margin of error." 

"The battleground states are where it matters," Sophia adds, tapping a spreadsheet with her pen. "Pennsylvania and Michigan are looking good, but Wisconsin and Arizona are razor-thin with Steve biting on both their heels." 

You nod, scanning the numbers. Your stomach churns with a familiar mixture of hope and anxiety that has become your constant companion these last weeks. The race is close—closer than any of you had anticipated when this journey began. 

"Florida's polling is all over the place," Bucky says, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "Depending on which poll you believe, Steve, Monroe, or Peterson take the sunshine state, and it skews the board no matter which way it goes.”

“So, basically, we’re doing well, but no one knows how well?” you ask.

"It's an election," Jake says with a wry smile. "No one ever really knows until the votes are counted." 

Bucky leans forward, his metal hand tapping lightly on the table. "What matters is that we're competitive everywhere we need to be. Six months ago, no one thought an independent candidate could seriously contend. Now..." His voice trails off as his eyes drift to where Steve is still deep in conversation with Maria and Calloway. 

"Now we've got them scared," Sophia finishes, a fierce pride in her voice.

[NOVEMBER 2 - EVENING - NEW YORK CITY]

You and Steve are put into a car with Jake and Lisa once you touchdown in New York, getting off the campaign plane for the final time. Your campaign manager and press secretary want to use the short ride from La Guardia to the hotel in Midtown Manhattan to review final notes before the morning. 

"The itinerary is straightforward," Jake says, scrolling through his tablet. "Early breakfast with the New York campaign volunteers at 6 AM, radio morning shows from 6:30 to 7, then straight to your polling place in Brooklyn by 7:30. We want the images of you two voting to hit the morning news cycles."

"After that," Lisa continues, "it's a series of get-out-the-vote stops across the city. We'll hit all five boroughs by mid-afternoon.”

“Then we have a break for the two of you until dinner and a final event in Central Park at 7 PM, which should give us prime placement for the evening news for all time zones," Jake says. “It should hopefully pull in some undecided voters - the ones who are debating whether to go home after work or go to the polls, and those are the voters likely to sway to you.”

Steve nods, his thumb absently stroking the back of your hand where it rests between you on the seat. "And the rest of the night?"

"We've secured the Grand Ballroom at the Plaza for the watch party," Lisa says. "Doors open to supporters at seven, but we don't expect either of you to make an appearance until at least nine, when the first results start coming in."

“This is why we’ve got the afternoon siesta for the two of you,” Jake says, his tone straightforward, logical, leaving no space to argue, “you’ll both need to be public-ready.”

"And if it's a long night?" you ask, voicing the question that's been weighing on all of you. With such a tight race, a definitive result by the end of the night is far from guaranteed. 

Jake and Lisa exchange glances. "We have contingency plans," Lisa answers. “The event in Central Park will continue through the night as long as it’s viable. If there’s any need for a public address, we want you to make it to the crowd outdoors in the park.”

“Absolutely,” Steve nods, “it’ll be a cold, long night for them, and if there’s something to be said, I want to be able to show them how much they’re appreciated.” 

The car glides through late-night New York traffic, the city lights reflecting off rain-slicked streets. You feel the weight of tomorrow pressing down—the culmination of months of exhausting work, of speeches and handshakes and strategy sessions. Of a marriage that began as strategy and transformed into something neither of you could have predicted. 

"What about security?" Steve asks, his voice pulling you from your thoughts. 

Jake nods, his expression serious. "Calloway's team has coordinated with NYPD, FBI, and Homeland. The security presence will be significant but as unobtrusive as possible. We don't want to alarm voters or create bottlenecks at polling places."

The car slows as it approaches The Plaza Hotel, the familiar choreography of arrival unfolding once more. Secret Service agents radio ahead, confirming positions. 

Even though your home is in New York - the new home you have yet to truly live in yet with Steve in Brooklyn - you’re staying at The Plaza Hotel since it will be campaign headquarters for the next 36 hours, ready to go in the morning immediately with the campaign staff. 

The SUV pulls to a stop under the elegant awning of The Plaza, its golden lights glowing against the darkness. Immediately, the flurry of your arrival begins—Secret Service agents materializing from seemingly nowhere, forming a protective perimeter as hotel staff stand at attention near the entrance. Despite the late hour, a small crowd of reporters and curious onlookers has gathered behind barricades, camera flashes punctuating the darkness like artificial lightning.

"Ready?" Steve asks quietly.

“Let’s do this.” You nod, summoning a smile that feels genuine despite your exhaustion. This is the final push—one more night, one more day, and then whatever comes next. 

The moment the car door opens, the world rushes in—the cool November air carrying the scent of rain and the city, the sounds of late night traffic, the frenzied murmur of voices. Steve exits first, turning to offer you his hand. Camera flashes explode like silent lightning around you and Steve.

"Captain Rogers! How are you feeling about tomorrow?" "Any response to Senator Monroe's latest polling numbers?" "Are you confident about your chances?"

Steve offers a practiced wave and a warm smile that somehow manages to convey both confidence and humility. "We're focused on getting out the vote tomorrow," he calls to the reporters, his voice carrying just enough to be heard without seeming to shout. "Every American deserves to have their voice heard in this election."

His hand finds the small of your back, guiding you forward with practiced ease as the two of you navigate the gauntlet of questions and flashing cameras. The Secret Service forms a protective bubble around you, not pushing or shoving but somehow creating space through sheer presence. You've become accustomed to this dance—the careful balance of accessibility and security, of warmth and vigilance. 

The Plaza's ornate lobby envelops you in sudden quiet, the thick carpets and soaring ceilings absorbing the chaos that swirls just outside its revolving doors. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over marble floors, transforming the space into something from another era—a pocket of gilded elegance that has somehow survived the city's constant reinvention. 

The advance campaign staff move with practiced efficiency, checking in with each other in hushed tones. Several nod respectfully as you and Steve pass, their expressions a mixture of exhaustion and determination. These are the people who have sacrificed sleep, stability, and sometimes sanity to bring this improbable campaign to the precipice of possible victory. 

Amidst the quiet bustle, you spot Eric, your logistics coordinator. When she sees you, Eric breaks away from the hotel staff, his efficiency on display even at this late hour. He's been with the campaign since June, and his ability to coordinate the movement of hundreds of people across the country with military precision has been invaluable. 

"Captain Rogers, Mrs. Rogers," he greets you both with a quick nod. "Everything's set for tomorrow. Your rooms are ready—you’re on the fifteenth floor. The campaign staff is distributed across the fourteenth and fifteenth."

He hands each of you a key card in a small Plaza-emblazoned envelope. "I've had your luggage sent up. The 6 AM breakfast meeting will be in the Grand Ballroom. We've converted the Edwardian Room into our command center—all the polling data will be coming in there throughout the day tomorrow." 

"Thank you, Eric. For everything." The simple words feel inadequate for the months of meticulous planning he's orchestrated, transforming the logistical nightmare of a presidential campaign into something almost manageable.

"Just doing my job," he replies with characteristic modesty, but his tired eyes brighten at the recognition. "Oh, and Mrs. Potts called. She's arriving early tomorrow morning. She'll meet you directly at the breakfast event."

Steve nods, his hand still resting gently at the small of your back, like it’s always belonged there. "Perfect.”

Jake checks his watch and stifles a yawn. "It's almost eleven. We made good time. You two head up, Lisa and I will help Eric marshal the rest of the troops as they arrive.”

You suspect Steve agrees because then he can hold you to going up as well, and he always tries to take care of you and the rest of his team. The two of you cross the lobby to the elevators, and it’s only a few moments before one arrives. Two Secret Service agents file in with you. As the lift ascends, the subtle vibration beneath your feet seems to harmonize with the nervous flutter in your chest.

Your fingers fidget with the edge of your sleeve, a small tell that you've never quite managed to control when anticipation takes hold. Steve notices—of course he notices. Those observant blue eyes miss nothing, especially when it comes to you. 

"Hey," Steve's voice is gentle as his hand covers yours, stilling the restless movement. "You okay?"

You look up to find his eyes studying you with that particular intensity that always makes your heart skip—the look that sees past practiced smiles and campaign-ready expressions to the truth underneath.

"I'm fine," you say automatically, then catch yourself. After everything you've been through together, the practiced deflections feel wrong. "Actually, I'm a little nervous." 

His brow furrows slightly, concern deepening the blue of his eyes. "About tomorrow?" 

"No. Well, yes, of course about tomorrow, but that's not—" You pause as the elevator slows, the display indicating you've reached the fifteenth floor. The doors slide open to reveal an elegantly appointed hallway, its rich carpeting muffling the sound as the Secret Service agents step out first, performing their customary sweep.

"All clear, sir," one of them says, positioning himself discreetly near the elevator bank while the other advances down the hallway, you and Steve following behind. 

You watch the numbers of the doors as you pass, then stop when you get to room 1518. “This is me,” you say. 

He frowns briefly, looking at the number on his key card envelope. “Mine says 1518, too.”

“Mhmm,” you nod, looking up at him through your lashes.

The realization settles over Steve's face, his expression shifting from confusion to understanding. "Oh," he says, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I see." 

You hand your key card to the agent, who taps it to the door and enters to do a security sweep. 

"I asked Sophia to arrange it with Eric," you admit, heat rising to your cheeks despite your best efforts. "I thought… for our last night before everything changes one way or another, I just want to be with you."

Steve's expression softens and he steps closer, the space between you shrinking until you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

"That’s what you were nervous about?" he asks, his voice low enough that only you can hear. "Asking me to stay with you tonight?"

You nod, feeling shy despite the months of growing intimacy between you. "We've been dancing around it. But tonight..."

Steve's hand finds yours, fingers intertwining. He doesn’t say anything, the way he looks at your face, you don’t need him to. Reassurance and longing are written and reflected there. 

A moment later, the agent steps out of the room. “All clear. We’ll be monitoring the floor.”

“Thank you, Roberts,” Steve says without looking away from you. 

You enter first, and the door swings open to reveal a spacious suite, elegantly appointed in the Plaza's signature style—cream walls, gold accents, plush furnishings in muted tones. Your luggage sits neatly arranged near the closet, and a small bouquet of fresh flowers brightens the writing desk.

Steve follows right behind you, the door closing behind him with a gentle thud that seems to seal you both away from the world outside. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the sudden privacy after days of constant company and scrutiny creating a bubble of stillness around you.

"So," Steve says.

The word hangs between you, heavy with unspoken anticipation. You turn to face him fully, taking in the sight of him—this man who has somehow become the center of your universe in the span of a few tumultuous months. The lines of fatigue around his eyes only enhance the intensity of his gaze as it locks with yours.

"So," you echo, a small smile playing at your lips. "Here we are." 

"Here we are," he agrees, his voice a low rumble that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. He takes a step toward you, closing the distance until mere inches separate you. "The night before everything changes." 

You reach up, fingers gently tugging to loosen his tie. "Everything's already changed, Steve. Whatever happens tomorrow..."

"We face it together," he finishes, capturing your hand where it rests against his chest. His fingers envelop yours, warm and steady. "Just like we promised."

The weight of tomorrow presses against the edges of your consciousness, but here, in this moment, there is only Steve—his presence solid and real before you. The campaign, the election, the world waiting beyond these walls—all of it recedes as you lean into him. 

"I'm glad you arranged this," he murmurs, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. "Us tonight." 

"I've wanted to for weeks," you admit. "But everything's been so intense, and there never seemed to be the right moment to..." 

"I know." His thumb traces the curve of your cheekbone, his touch gentle yet grounding. "And I’ve never wanted to assume or rush, but I've wanted it too." 

Your eyes drift closed as he leans forward, his breath warm against your lips just before they meet yours. The kiss is gentle at first, but as his arms encircle you, drawing you closer against the solid warmth of his chest, something shifts—urgency bleeding into tenderness, months of carefully banked desire kindling into something more demanding. 

Your fingers thread through his hair, fusing him to you as the kiss deepens. His hands span your waist, lifting you effortlessly until your feet barely touch the ground. The sensation of being suspended, weightless in his embrace, sends a thrill through you that has nothing to do with the campaign or tomorrow's uncertainties.

When you finally break apart, both breathless, Steve rests his forehead against yours. His eyes, when they open, are darkened with desire but still impossibly blue. His eyes hold yours, a universe of emotion swirling in their blue depths. He shrugs off his suit coat, you slip out of your coat, and Steve takes both and drapes them over a nearby armchair. Then Steve steps close to you again, his hands moving to frame your face, his touch reverent as his thumbs trace the curve of your cheekbones.

"I've been hungry for this moment," he confesses, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through you where your bodies press together. "Being alone with you. Really alone."

"Me, too," you confess, fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw and his well-trimmed beard. 

His smile in response is both tender and knowing, a silent acknowledgment of the journey that brought you here—from strangers to hesitant allies to something neither of you could have anticipated. His hands slide up your back, pulling you impossibly closer as his lips find yours again.

This kiss is different—deeper, unhurried yet purposeful. The careful restraint that's defined so much of your relationship begins to unravel with each passing second. His lips move against yours with increasing urgency, and you respond in kind, your body arching into his as if drawn by some invisible force.

Steve guides you backward through the suite with what feels like a dancer's grace, each step purposeful yet fluid. The world narrows to the points where your bodies connect—his hand at the small of your back, his chest against yours, his lips moving with increasing urgency against your own. The sitting room passes in a blur of cream and gold, furniture mere obstacles to navigate around as you drift through the space in this intimate waltz.

Your fingers work at his tie again, tugging the knot loose with fumbling eagerness. The silk slides free with a whisper against cotton, and you let it fall, forgotten, somewhere behind you. His mouth never leaves yours as you move together, his breath mingling with your own in the narrow space between kisses. Your shoulder bumps gently against a doorframe—the threshold to the bedroom—and Steve's arm tightens around you, steadying you against him.

"I've got you," he murmurs against your lips, the words more breath than sound. 

You feel the familiar pressure of his hand at the small of your back, guiding you through the doorway and into the bedroom. The soft glow of city lights filters through the sheer curtains, painting the room in muted blues and golds. 

Your fingers, trembling slightly with anticipation, move to the buttons of his crisp white shirt. The first button slips free easily, revealing a triangle of warm skin at his throat that you caress briefly before continuing your task. The second proves more challenging as Steve's kisses grow more insistent, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes focusing on anything else nearly impossible. You manage the third button just as the back of your knees meet the edge of the bed. 

At some point between the sitting room and the bedroom, Steve had evidently unzipped your dress, because now he quickly pushes the fabric down over your shoulders, and it falls to the floor, pooling at your feet. He turns you around in his arms, pulling you flush against him. Without missing a beat, his left hand comes up to collar your throat and turn your head to the side so he can continue devouring your lips with his own. His other hand slides over the roundness of your stomach and down into your panties, no hesitation

His fingers slide against you, finding you already wet and ready for him. You gasp against his mouth at the contact, your body arching into his touch. Steve's lips trail from yours to the sensitive spot just below your ear, his breath hot on your skin, and his beard scratching pleasantly against your neck.

"I've wanted this for so long," he whispers, his voice rough with desire. "Wanted you." 

You reach back, fingers threading through his hair as his thumb circles your most sensitive spot with exquisite precision. Your legs tremble, and he tightens his arm across your chest, supporting your weight as pleasure builds with each deliberate stroke.

"Steve," you breathe, the word half plea, half prayer. 

He turns you in his arms once more, then pushes you back onto the mattress. He’s quick to follow, hovering over you as you both slither further up the bed, capturing your mouth in that kiss that's constant hunger and heat. 

His shirt hangs open now, and you push it from his shoulders, murmuring, “Too many clothes,” desperate to feel his skin against yours. He shrugs it off, chuckling against your lips. 

"I agree," he murmurs, his hands moving to unclasp your bra with surprising dexterity. As he tosses it aside, his eyes darken with appreciation, taking in the sight of you beneath him. "God, you're beautiful." 

His palm cups your breast, thumb brushing across the sensitive peak as he lowers his head to press open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. You arch into his touch, fingers working at his belt buckle with growing urgency. The metal clinks as it comes free, and Steve shifts to help you push his pants down his hips. 

The bed cradles you as Steve's weight settles over you, his body a perfect counterbalance of power and restraint. Every touch feels like a revelation, each kiss deeper than the last. His hands trace the curves of your body with reverence, as if mapping territories both familiar and new. 

"You're beautiful," he whispers against your collarbone, his lips tracking a slow path downward. "So beautiful." 

Your fingers explore the broad expanse of his shoulders, feeling the play of muscles beneath warm skin as he moves. When his mouth closes over your breast, a soft gasp escapes you, your back arching into the sensation. His beard creates a delicious friction against your sensitive skin, the contrast between softness and roughness heightening every sensation. 

He sucks and lavishes your nipple with attention that makes your head spin before moving his mouth to your other breast and delivering more of the dizzying pleasure. Only when he has you squirming beneath him is he satisfied. He moves back up your body, and his mouth captures yours again.

Your hands slide over the muscled planes of his chest, marveling at the contrast between the softness of his skin and the hardness of the body beneath. When your fingers trace the defined ridges of his abdomen, following the trail of hair that disappears beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs.

Steve shivers beneath your touch, his breath catching as your fingers dip below the elastic of his boxers. The hardness of him strains against the fabric, his physical desire for you manifested plainly. You trace the length of him through the cotton, reveling in the way his breath hitches, the way his eyes darken to midnight as they hold yours.

"I need you," you whisper, emboldened by the naked want in his gaze. "All of you." 

The words act like a catalyst. Steve moves with sudden purpose, stripping away the last barriers between you until there's nothing but skin against skin, heat against heat. His weight settles partially on you, one strong thigh slipping between yours as he claims your mouth again. You’re sure you’re going to forget to breathe, the way this man - your husband - kisses you in this moment. 

His hand skims down your side, tracing the curve of your hip before sliding between your bodies. When his fingers find your folds again, you gasp against his mouth, your body arching into his touch. He explores you with gentle thoroughness, learning what makes your breath catch, what draws those soft moans from deep in your throat.

"Steve," you breathe, his name a plea as tension coils tighter within you. "Please." 

He understands what you're asking for, positioning himself between your thighs, the hard length of him pressing against your entrance. His eyes find yours, intense and questioning even now. 

"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice rough with need but still so careful, so considerate. 

In answer, you wrap your legs around his hips, drawing him closer. The first slow push of him entering you draws a moan from both your lips, the sensation of fullness, of completeness, overwhelming in its intensity. He moves with deliberate control, giving you time to adjust to him, his forehead pressed against yours. 

"Yes," you whisper, tracing his cheekbone with trembling fingers. "I've never been more sure of anything." 

Steve's eyes hold yours as he begins to move, setting a rhythm that quickly has you both breathing hard. The world narrows to this—to the perfect friction where your bodies join, to the sound of his breath against your ear, to the weight of him above you, anchoring you against the rising tide of pleasure. 

His pace quickens, driven by your encouraging moans and the way your hips rise to meet each thrust. One of his hands slides beneath you, tilting your hips at an angle that has you gasping his name, your nails digging into the solid muscle of his shoulders. 

"Steve," you breathe, his name a prayer on your lips as pleasure builds within you, coiling tighter with each movement of his hips against yours.

"Let go," he murmurs against your throat, his voice strained with the effort of control. "I've got you." 

His mouth captures yours again and again, each kiss deeper than the last, as if he's trying to memorize the taste of you. 

The exquisite tension builds and builds until it finally breaks like a wave crashing against shore, pleasure radiating outward from where your bodies join. Your back arches off the bed as you cry out, fingers gripping Steve's shoulders as if he's the only solid thing in a world suddenly turned liquid with sensation. He follows you moments later, his rhythm faltering as his release claims him, your name a reverent whisper against your throat. 

For several heartbeats, neither of you moves, bodies still joined, breaths mingling in the narrow space between your faces. Steve's weight is carefully balanced on his forearms, his body a warm shelter above yours. When he lifts his head to look at you, the tenderness in his gaze makes your chest ache with an emotion too vast to name. 

"Hey," he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead with gentle fingers. 

"Hey yourself," you reply, voice slightly hoarse. 

As the aftershocks subside, Steve gathers you close, rolling to his side and bringing you with him. Your head finds the perfect resting place against his chest, where you can hear the gradual slowing of his heartbeat. His fingers trace lazy patterns along your spine as the world slowly expands beyond the two of you once more.

"That was..." you begin, struggling to find words adequate for what just transpired between you.

"Worth waiting for," Steve finishes, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Though I've been thinking about it since that night in Tucson."

You smile against his skin. "Only since Tucson?”

His chuckle vibrates through his chest and into yours, a warm sound that wraps around you like a blanket. "Maybe before," he admits, his fingers still tracing gentle patterns on your skin. "Maybe since that day in the garden at the DAR headquarters when you told me what you really thought about my speech."

"That long?" you ask, tilting your head to look up at him, finding his expression soft with memory. That had been a sweltering hot afternoon in mid-July - long before you thought he viewed you as more than an ally. 

"You surprised me," Steve says simply. "Not many people do that anymore." 

You prop yourself up on one elbow to look at him properly, drinking in the sight of him relaxed and unguarded in the soft glow of the city lights filtering through the curtains. "For me it was the hospital visit in Chicago."

His eyebrows lift slightly. "Really? That early?"

"Not consciously," you admit, tracing the line of his collarbone with your fingertip. Chicago had been the very tail end of June. "But looking back, that's when everything started to shift. You were so you, even when no one was watching."

Steve captures your wandering hand, bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to your palm. “I love you,” he declares for the first time, no restraint, voice firm and warm. 

Your heart skips a beat, but you’re quick to respond in kind, grinning when you say, “I love you, too,” your face splitting into a wide grin. 

The moment hangs between you, weightless and perfect. Steve's smile widens, crinkling the corners of his eyes in that way that makes your heart flutter. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing tenderly across your skin.

“I love you,” he says again.

You settle back against him, content in the circle of his arms as the sounds of the city filter in through the windows—distant sirens, the occasional car horn, the ambient hum that is uniquely New York. Tomorrow looms beyond this moment, with all its uncertainties and possibilities, but here, now, there is only this—the steady rhythm of Steve's heart beneath your ear, the warmth of his body, the love you’ve been building together finally spoken aloud. 

"I've been thinking about this," he confesses, his voice still thick with emotion. "About tonight. About us. About what happens after tomorrow."

You flatten your palm over his chest, anchoring yourself against the tide of feelings his words evoke. "What do you think happens? After tomorrow?"

He���s quiet for a moment, and you wait. "I don't know what happens with the election. But I know what I want to happen with us."

Your heart beats faster, a flutter of anticipation rising in your chest. "Tell me."

Steve takes a breath, his hands sliding up and down your back, caressing your body with gentle reverence. "I want us to continue building our life together. The real one I feel like we’ve been nurturing—not just for the cameras or the campaign. I want mornings and evenings and all the moments in between."

The raw honesty in his voice catches at something deep inside you. This is Steve—the man beneath the mantle. 

"I want that too," you whisper, the words feeling like a promise. "All of it." 

His arms tighten around you, pulling you closer against the solid warmth of his chest. Outside, the city continues its nighttime symphony, but in this room, in this bed, time seems suspended—a perfect bubble of peace before tomorrow's storm. 

"No matter what happens with the election," Steve murmurs, his voice a low rumble against your ear, "this—us—is real. It's the most real thing in my life." 

You lift your head to look at him, taking in the sincerity etched across his features, the vulnerability in his eyes that he shows to so few. "Mine too." 

His smile in response warms you from the inside out. His hand cups your cheek, thumb tracing the line of your jaw with tender precision. "Get some sleep," he whispers. 

“You first,” you tease. 

He laughs softly before kissing you once more before you both drift off. 

next part: Election Day in New York, part 1

Did I include links for rooms at The Plaza, including the room type I decided I wanted you and Steve to spend the night together in? Yes. Yes, I did.

DID YOU ALSO GET TO FINALLY HAVE SEX WITH YOUR FANTASTIC HUSBAND? YES! THE THING WE'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR! SLOWEST BURN OF ALL TIME, but I knew from the very beginning that I wanted your first time to be on the eve of the election, and even as the story gained more plot and put more and more chapters and developments between where we started and getting to this night, I'm so glad I stuck to that part of the original plan.

....can you believe I thought this story was only going to be six or seven chapters? 🤣

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

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

[jenny-in-a-jar]

My surgery is tomorrow!!! ✨💕🥰✨💕🥰

(Picture taken June 23, 2024)

I'm very very excited for my surgery (it's my second gender affirming surgery but this one is more significant to me since it'll be top and bottom surgery) and I was obviously counting the days until it and I thought some people might be interested in my trans journey 🏳️‍⚧️ I finished up most of the story a few days ago so now I'll towards future under the cut! 🌈🌈🌈

With these surgeries I feel like I'm completing the "main campaign" and all that'll be left will be "side quests"

Like I will still have voice training. Also hair removal and getting my birth certificate updated.

Oh!! That's other things I forgot to mention in early posts 😅

I got my name legally changed in the summer of 2021. I just paid a lawyer to handle it for me with my stimulus check money. And I remember getting an updated social security was a whole process 😮‍💨 Now I just need to get my birth certificate updated before I lose the chance to 🙃

Also it was in 2022 that I got laser hair removal. The place locally had this weird plan where you pay for an area and it's pretty expensive but it covers all sessions you can keep coming back for life if there's ever any regrowth (which their definitely was). Honestly, I have a lot of really light hair so I'll be finishing it off Electrolysis.

I had a consultation for body contouring a month or so ago. And she said that she didn't recommend it since I had so little fat that it would be very risky and have minimal results 😔 She did say that she could do a tummy tuck since I have a bit of loose skin there 😅 But she said it would be one of the most painful surgeries which made sense to me as bc I remember they pulled a little bit of fat for my FFS from there and that was the most painful part 😬 Also getting a big scar just to get rid of a bit of flabbiness, especially if I couldn't also get an ass out of it just did not seem worth it. Maybe in a decade when my metabolism goes down, I'll reconsider it. I'll have to go in to replace my implants anyways 🤷‍♀️

Oh!! I'll make sure to upload a picture after I get the surgery! But it might be a few days

But after this surgery I'll done for awhile, finally 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 But life is all about change so I doubt I'll ever consider myself fully done with transitioning. I'm excited to see the person I'll become 🥰🥰🥰

Also thank you everyone who left kind messages in the tags and comments 🥺🥺🥺

[romantically-yours]

It was not a prophecy T^T

🤏this close to going to the local queer book store and looking confused in the hopes a cute girl swoops in & shows me her favorite sapphic book

[celestie0]

does anyone wanna be on taglist for this gojo x reader fic? 🧚‍♀️✨

edit: first chapter is out!!

HI BABES after much deliberation i am starting a new gojo fic series :””) I PROMISE I WILL STILL BE ON THAT KICKOFF GRIND but ugh i just had too many ideas and i just neeeeeeed to start this series rn

it's based on this concept idea i had (changed a few things though. also, if you commented on this post, i'm alr gonna tag you haha so dw ab commenting under this one too)

here’s a bit of info about it:

ᰔ title. TO BE DECIDED STILL

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader

ᰔ genres. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, lots of jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, suburban shenanigans; btw gojo in this fic is in his early 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, n have been taking care of your sick mom ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation with him is worth any amount of money.

some side quests. your ex bf is a cop and is determined to prove your marriage is a sham because he's jealous, it appears gojo's love life history is not as simple as it may seem either, also there will be lots of secondary angst because of reader's mom's sickness :'') i will really be delving into a lot of the struggles of having a sick family member (in this fic, alzheimer's & cancer)

here is a little teaser.

and here's another lil teaser i posted yesterday

BUT ANYWAYS yeah please comment below if you'd like to be on the taglist!! tysm for your support :'') the first chapter will likely be posted tomorrow (4/19) if not saturday (4/20 eyyyy)

[stilljuststardust]

Thank you for your last post! I will definitely take the advice you gave me! Something else just happened recently and it is giving me mild paranoia so I want to handle this situation as soon as possible.

I have ADHD as well - so sometimes sticking with one thing can be very difficult. I’ll try revising as well - it sounds cool and I never thought about that before!

My list has everything I ever want in my reality - and honestly every time I have tried manifesting any list I created it always failed for one reason or another.

I’m going to affirm I have my list wherever I think about it - and if I have to do something I will continue to assume I have it as well. Again - sometimes my ADHD really messes everything up - but with your advice I should be okay. <3

Do you have anymore advice to share? Because one other thing is simply that when I notice something I dislike while doing what I am supposed to do - I end going back to the old story.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

How to saturate with ADHD

I was supposed to do a post on this and then I avoided the fuck out of it because I also have ADHD and genuinely need to be medicated for it. I'm very bad at doing.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

1. What to avoid

ADHD will literally give you side plots if it means it can get you to avoid the task. The side quest is a trap.

Your brain is going to tell you to grab one more post, one more subliminal, redo your list, it's a lie. You know the law, you know what you're doing, you know what you're manifesting.

It's not ruined, don't restart

You're going to procrastinate. You're going to push it off. Your brain is going to tell you that you already messed up today so you might as well just do it tomorrow. No. Your assumptions can change in an instant you start now.

Don't try to "sit down and affirm" in the literal sense.

You are going to get restless quickly. Rock back and forth, bring a stim toy, pair it with a physical thing like stretching or doing a plank.

"I'll do it in an hour" is also a lie. No you won't.

Do it now or you won't do it at all. You'll be just as if not more resistant in an hour.

Phone bad. Affirm good.

"Oh I'll just use it as background noise" and then you're watching a deep dive into five nights at Freddy's lore.

You don't need a new method. You have a method.

Yes you are doing your method right. No you shouldn't switch to a new one

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

2. What to do

Noise cancelling headphones.

I get distracted by noise.

Engaging saturation.

If you're struggling with robotic affirmations try affirming in a way that makes you feel engaged. Pretend you're bragging, telling a friend, or telling your success story.

Stick with it.

Your brain is about to come up with thirty reasons not to. Be prepared for that instead of hoping a wave of motivation will come. "What if it won't work" you already have it, it has worked.

Remember that you're not trying to have it you already have it.

Think as if you have it. That's the end goal. Yes it's ok to "affirm to get" but it's not ok to affirm that you don't have it even if it's from the perspective of "trying to"

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

[weirdsht]

What if i have an idea and it's orv's "incarnation kim dokja will be killed at the hands of the person he loves most" BUT it's reader and cale

May Our Fates Intertwine Once More - Cale/Reader

notes: 1. Anon I'm sorry for taking so long to write your req; and 2. I'm sorry to everyone who saw the small preview I posted before and thought it was fluff.

tags: fluff, no gender specified for reader, novel spoiler (sealed god's test), hurt no comfort, angst, death, canon divergence from 620

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are open and welcome

Buy Me Dessert

Navigation Masterlist

One moment you were next to Cale then the next second you’re standing in the middle of an unknown place with this weird half-transparent blue screen in front of you.

[Quest List:]

[1. Pass the tutorial

2. Launch a widescale attack on the safe zones during the eclipse 

3. Die after fighting a magnificent battle at the hands of the person who loves you the most]

“What the fuck…”

You cursed as you read what the screen says. You tried to see if you could touch it but something else popped up as soon as your finger made contact with it.

[WARNING!! WARNING!!]

[All injuries sustained in this body will be mirrored in your real body!]

“This isn’t my real body? But it looks the same.”

It really does. The only thing that has changed is your clothes. You’re wearing something that fits the image of a deity.

Still confused, you look around you. There’s nothing you recognized. But it does look like you’re somewhere abandoned.

[A message has arrived! Tap here to read!]

You tapped the new overlay that popped up and it instantly brought you to the message.

[Are you enjoying your lover’s original world?]

The anonymous message said. Immediately, you had an inkling as to who it could be.

“What the fuck? You must be that stupid god presence we felt back there.”

[Such brash words while talking to a god… Anyway, are you aware of where your lover is?]

“His around here too right? What the hell did you do to him?”

[Nothing much. His just under my test to overcome his despair. I’m waiting for him to be consumed by it so he can take my hand.]

“Knowing Cale, I'm sure he’ll overcome it. He’d rather die than work with you.”

[That’s where you come in dear.]

You feel like you can hear the god’s vile laughter even through the screen. But you wondered how you’d help meet Cale’s demise. Unless a demon possesses you to the point where you can’t control yourself, you won't do it.

Then it dawned on you.

The mission.

[3. Die after fighting a magnificent battle at the hands of the person who loves you the most]

“HAHAHAHAHAHA! You’re quite witty, aren’t you? On the bright side, I found out Cale loves me the most thanks to you.”

[It’s great, isn’t it? If you don’t do your missions you’ll be stuck here forever. If you do them you’ll die. Whatever you do you love must say goodbye. An instant recipe for despair.]

“We’ll see about that. You might be underestimating me too much.”

You pointed your middle finger towards the screen with messages before closing it.

Getting past the tutorial was easy. Turns out you have an inventory that contains countless supplies of food and other necessities. You also have the ability to summon monsters.

The same monsters your lover told you he fought in his previous life before becoming Cale Henituse.

“Ho? This is interesting. It feels like I’m playing a game of some sort.”

You said no one in particular as you read the descriptions of the monsters at your disposal. You spend the whole day navigating the screen that calls itself the “status window”. According to it, you have the whole day free today as the eclipse will happen tomorrow.

As you take yourself on a tour of your inventory one particular item catches your attention.

[Sword of Liubi Duplicate]

It was your sword. Well, a duplicate of it. It was given to you by Cale after you first met. Clicking on the sword, you read what properties would its copy have.

[A sword replicated from your world. It’s strong, probably one of the strongest swords on Earth 2 despite being nerfed. However, since it’s a duplicate it will only have half of its original prowess. It is still a remarkable weapon nonetheless.]

Some of the terms used like “nerfed” you don’t understand as they don’t exist in your world. But it still gave you a general idea as to what the status of your sword is.

Well, it’s better than nothing.

Plus you think the only time you’d have to use it is when you fight Cale so it’s better that it’s not as strong as before.

“Either way I die huh…”

You mumbled as you stared up at the ceiling of the abandoned house you found. Usually, a person would not be able to stay in such a place so leisurely. However, since the monsters won’t touch you it's a different story.

“What am I getting sad for? I was supposed to die way back! I’m just fulfilling it now…”

It’s the truth. If it wasn’t for your lover and his friends you would’ve died a long time ago. You guess someone bound to die early will die early.

You dismissed the thoughts of your death out of your head. Instead, you focused your energy on thinking about how you would get Cale to fight you so he could complete his mission.

With those thoughts in mind, you slowly fell asleep. 

“Okay, this is kind of fun… but I feel bad since Cale and the others are fighting the things I summoned.”

You’re on top of a building. A good distance away from Cale– no Kim Rok Soo’s safe zone but still near enough to be able to observe what’s happening.

“Is that Choi Han? At first I felt bad for them, but now I feel bad for myself. They’ll finish my babies in no time!”

Observing Choi Han and the others fighting, you kept summoning more monsters. The monsters you summon are regulated by the status window but you still find some joy in doing it.

It is getting tiring though.

You can’t believe you have to keep doing this for 24 hours straight. You’re not even getting paid…

[Alert!]

[One (1) of your “Grade 1 Taster Monsters” have broken from the pack]

[Alert!]

[Two (2) of your “Grade 1 Taster Monsters” have broken from the pack]

“What the hell? I swear my dearest must have an ancient power that allows him to gather powerful beings. His even stealing away my babies.”

You huffed in frustration as you watched two of your summons go over to Kim Rok Soo’s side.

“Isn’t this whole thing too good for me though? Everything I need to survive is free… And summoning monsters doesn’t cost anything.”

[It's the least I could do for someone bound to die either way]

That pesky god messaged you again.

“Well look at you being Mr. Nice. Are you flirting with me? Sorry, I’m taken.”

For emphasis, you brought up your ring finger that contained your engagement ring. As if flipping the god off.

[Blasphemous as ever. It tempts me to take you as one of my children. Too bad you won’t be able to take in the despair that comes as a price.]

“Yeah yeah. Just shut up. It’s not like I have any plans teaming up with a god.”

Sealed God shut up and you lived the next days in peace.

You have the monsters at your disposal that can do whatever you need them to do. And you have no quest assigned to you aside from that dying one. Your mind has also been at ease as you have a general plan as to how you’ll get your love to fight you one-on-one.

[New Mission Alert!]

[Summon one (1) Electric Eel in Gwangalli Beach]

Gwangalli Beach where is that? You have absolutely no idea. In fact, you’re tired of your status window acting as if you were from this world.

“I’m sure the monster will know where it is…”

Convincing yourself that your summons will know where it is you summoned a flying monster to take you to that place.

Luckily, your assumption was correct. In no time you were where you need to be.

“Status window summon one Electric Eel… Who named this thing? I mean it’s a snake that will be summoned from the sea, and has electricity as one of its powers. But Electric Eel? Seriously?”

After bashing the monster’s name a little, you summoned it.

“I’m sure you already know what to do…”

You mumbled to the monster before going away to hide before someone saw you.

All that’s left for you to do is watch and wait for your entrance.

3 days. That’s how many days it took for them to defeat the Electric Eel.

While everyone was doing that you were watching on top of the building. Your robed dress flows freely in the wind as you do so. There were a lot of instances you wanted to intervene. Wanted to go help the love of your life and the man you considered your brother.

But alas you couldn’t.

The status window with only one quest left reminded you of that every time.

[Are you ready for the final act?]

Sealed God messaged you again. As if laughing at your inevitable demise.

“Just watch my performance. It’ll be spectacular.”

For a moment you were tempted to curse him out as you usually would. However, you decided that if you’re gonna go out today, you’re going out with grace and elegance. It's only fitting as the fiance of a duke’s son.

[Player _____ will be killed at the hands of the person that loves them the most]

[The last arc of the game…]

[Starts Now]

Ignoring the status window, you ride the flying monster waiting for you. It’s the same monster that brought you to the beach before.

“I worked so hard just for you to defeat my baby.”

You gently spoke as you gracefully descended from the monster's back and onto the dead Electric Eel. 

“...That’s your baby?”

Kim Rok Soo mumbled quite mournfully. He was supposed to be your baby after all.

“Wait how are you even here?”

He asked. Looking at you curiously. 

“Oh, I’m the one summoning all the monsters you’ve been fighting. Was it fun? Ah, don’t ask me where they come from though. I have no idea where they came from. I can only summon them.”

You spoke as if there was nothing wrong. As if you guys aren't standing on the opposite sides of the battlefield.

“_____-nim…”

Choi Han, the man you have come to consider your brother, slowly called out to you.

“What are you doing?”

He asks, not minding the whispers from the people around you three.

“So that’s what happened to my Dark Tiger… Asking permission to borrow my things would have been appreciated, Your Highness.”

You addressed Alberu first before answering the swordmaster’s question.

“Don’t you still get it? Every play must end with the hero defeating the evil mastermind! And you Kim Rok Soo…”

The sword you summoned on the way here pointed towards your lover.

“You shall be the one who strikes the final blow.”

Kim Rok Soo’s brain connected the pieces. You smile while observing him. And that smile pissed him off.

Because you were smiling as if everything was okay.

As if you hadn’t just announced your death.

“And if I refuse?”

“Then I’ll be stuck here and die. You wouldn’t want that would you?”

“So I just have to kill you here?”

‘And then you’ll return to my arms in our world?’

You knew the silent question that lingered in the commander’s reddish-brown eyes.

“Yes.”

Yet you ignored it. Letting him believe that everything will be fine. That you will only die in this world. That nothing will happen to you in your world and all shall be well.

It was for his own good.

The only way for him to not fall into despair once more.

Drawing your sword once again, you beckoned for your lover to fight you.

“Everyone else stay back. I’ll summon another unranked monster if you interfere.”

“Follow what they say and just watch.”

You and Kim Rok Soo said before your powers clashed with each other.

Lightning after lightning struck you. However, your sword blocked most of them. Dodging the ones you couldn’t block.

When it was your turn to attack, you struck your sword towards Cale. Each slash either landed on the Indestructible Shield or was blocked by the Fire of Destruction.

“Your sword is stronger than this. I did not give you such a flimsy thing.”

Cale spoke as you failed to cut through his shield once more.

“Don’t worry this isn’t the one you gave– Ugh!”

A lightning struck you. Cale used it as an opportunity to land more hits.

“I was talking you know? You’re as rude as ever. Anyway, this one is a duplicate.”

Your sword managed to land a cut on the commander’s arm. Everyone else watched the two of you. People who don’t know you were wondering how can the two of you fight while bantering as if your lives aren’t on the line.

But not everyone in the audience didn’t know you. Two people in there knew you very well. 

“I’m going back first. Something about this feels off.”

Alberu told Choi Han who was gripping his scabbard tightly.

“His Majesty is going first?”

“Seems like it.”

You can Cale continued talking as you fight. It reminded you of the small talks he would engage you in as you train.

It reminded you that this is probably the last time you will be able to talk to him like this.

“Ow! That hurts you know!”

A particular attack from the Sky Eating Water rendered you unable to pick up the sword. Cale took this as an opportunity to hold you down using the trees summoned earlier to fight the Electric Eel.

You watch as Cale turns off his Sound of the Wind. He walks towards you at a leisurely pace, picking up your sword on the way. 

“I’m sorry.”

He said and you noticed his hand tremble ever so slightly.

“Don’t be. I’m happy that it’s you. Do you want to know what’s the prerequisite of my death?”

Cale did not answer but you said it anyway.

“I shall die by the hands of the one that loves me the most. That’s what it said.”

The commander’s eyes shook along with his hand.

“That’s why I’m glad…”

Blood spilt from your mouth as your sword stabbed your heart. From the corner of your eye, you could see Choi Han running towards where you are.

“_____-nim!”

Your brother called out to you as Cale let go of his control on the trees in favour of holding you instead. 

There’s still blood spilling from your mouth but that didn’t stop you from smiling at him. Your smile was weak and tired, but it was the best you could do at the moment.

“I’m fine…”

You assured Cale squeezing your hand.

“I’ll be waiting for you in our world. So don’t be sad okay? Remember you have to overcome despair.”

“Promise?”

Cale asked you as he cradled your body in his chest.

“I promise.”

You left out the part that you’ll probably be dead or dying when he sees you. 

Weakly, but full of determination you raised your left hand to link your pinkies together. The diamond in your engagement ring shone as you did. Meanwhile, your right hand is being held by Choi Han.

They said that your life will flash in your eyes at your last moments. No such thing happened to you. But you did remember a conversation that you and your lover had prior to this whole thing.

“So you’re birthday is on November 8th? Why are you only telling me this now? There’s so little time to prepare a gift for you!”

“What are you talking about it’s still so far away?”

“No, it’s not! It’s not enough time for me to prepare the perfect gift for you.”

That’s right, today is November 8 in this world. It’s Cale’s birthday…

“In Raon’s castle… My gift is there. He should know about it…”

“You can just give it to me yourself when we get back.”

Cale answered and you almost laughed at his cluelessness.

“...Happy birthday my love. May you always find happiness.”

Those were your last words before you took your last breath. Before your body slowly turned into dust in Cale’s hold.

But Cale wasn’t in despair even as you die.

He may be sad, but he wasn’t in despair.

It was because he was holding onto your words that you’d meet him back home.

That’s how Cale was able to pass the Sealed God’s test.

But why…

“MOVE ASIDE, LET PENDRICK AND SAINT-NIM HANDLE IT!”

Why was the first thing he heard as soon as he came back Alberu’s shouting when he was supposed to be in his castle making preparations?

“CALL FOR MORE HEALERS WE’RE LOSING _____-NIM!”

“_____ wake up. Please wake up.”

Alberu and Raon’s voice rang on his head. 

At that moment. Rosalyn and Eruhaben noticed that he was back. They quickly greeted him before calling over Raon and Sherrit to remove the barrier that surrounded him.

“What’s happening?”

Cale asks as he enters the room where the shouts are coming from.

The sight made him stop in his tracks.

Laying on a grass bed that’s similar to where he was just a few minutes ago was his lover. His fiance.

They were lying there. Bleeding.

On the heart.

Exactly where Cale had stabbed them back on Earth.

A realisation dawned on him at the moment.

You just promised that you would meet him back home.

You did not promise that you would meet him alive.

Cale, the fool, had only assumed you would.

[nabi-unveiled]

Catching Up: Love for Love's Sake (Ep 4)

Other Reacts: Ep 1 Ep 2 Ep 3

Yes, it's 3:15 in the morning. Yes, I have to work tomorrow. No, I can't even sleep in because I have to interview a potential intern at 9 am. Plus, the kids will be home with me too since it's a school holiday. I don't care. I'm starting episode 4 anyways.

And yay! We've went back to the fight. I was hoping we would find out more about what happened.

Is this a new way for them to do the subtitle for "debuff/curse". I guess that's fine so that people who don't understand gaming get it. It feels a little late in the game for that though. Still, I loved this screenshot, because you can see the transition that's a bit gamified. And the purple aura energy is showing up on Yeowoon's arm.

We didn't have any debuffs last episode so I guess the debuff really does relate to affection of Myungha and not Yeowoon's personal affection. Fine. I'll exit my clown car theory about the debuffs....for now. Outside of my clown car, it makes sense that the debuff would show up now since Myungha's affection level just plummeted.

Myungha absorbs the debuff. Yeowoon is left in shock. He definitely is feeling rejected/slighted at this point.

Myungha is dragging Sangwon through the halls. Sangwon says "I'm not a kid." I'd be careful Sangwon. That line of thinking means he can hit you. I know Myungha knows how to fight, but I do wonder more and more every episode about "why" he fought. I'm already developing a lot of head canons on that score. Maybe we'll find out eventually though.

He's not going to hit him (not that I thought he ACTUALLY would anyways), because we now have a ringing sound. I'm guessing the debuff is having an effect. He absorbed all the bad purple energy, and it was STRONG this time base on his -99. Was the -99 in red last episode? If not, it should've been. Sorry, random thought.

Myungha falls down the stairs.

I've given up on the episode names being strictly related to missions. The gamer in me though is going to retranslate this as "progress". That feels better in gamification terms. Especially if it's talking about progress in the mission quest. I obviously have no clue whether that is right. Wait. Unless they're talking about aspects of the game being "in development" like new code/levels being written or the story being redeveloped/changed. Hmm. That actually feels likely. We'll stick with development.

KYUNGHOON! You're back. I missed you so much. I'm guessing they're having to skip class to go to the competition. Apparently, Myungha has hurt his leg. Kyunghoon struggles to get over the wall. Based on how Myungha hopped the wall, I'm guessing it's the right leg that's hurt. But Myungha's leg obviously wasn't THAT badly hurt. It didn't look like he tried to favor one leg more in the landing. Guess that could depend on the type of injury though. My perspective is probably skewed. I've dislocated kneecaps more times than I wish to recount. I definitely wouldn't have made it over the wall shortly after one of those times. My personality is such though that I'd have doubled down and probably hurt myself more while trying. Lol.

Sangwon is waiting on the other side of the wall. I loved his "hi". Kyunghoon asks if he was waiting. Myungha says it's a "disease". It works, but I wonder if there is a different translation of that word. They've used it several times. It was also used in a very similar way during Secret Relationships ("being nosy is a disease").

Sangwon says he was just late to school. It's coincidence that they met up. I love that he's somewhat "talking back" to Myungha. But I also have a very sarcastic/roast style sense of humor. These types of exchanges always make my day. I wish I had more of that energy in my life.

Kyunghoon asks about the shoes, and Sangwon realizes that he had made a mistake. I didn't mention it last episode as the post was already getting really long. But my guess is that Sangwon was upset about the shoes, because he thought that his mom gave them to Yeowoon. His mom had just been to the school after all, and it appears like they have a complicated relationship. I'm guessing there's a lack of affection there too based on Sangwon's reactions to Myungha's signs of care. This is all conjecture on my part. The show isn't really SAYING any of this at the moment.

But now he knows the shoes weren't from his mom. It's okay Sangwon. I made several bad calls in the last episode too. Sangwon decides to follow.

And just like that, we have a gaming party embarking on a quest.

Our trio notices that Yeowoon is standing instead of taking his place on the blocks. Is he wearing the blue shoes? It looks like it. Myungha is still outside of the love supremacy zone, but he yells Yeowoon's name. I'm taking note that his number is 251 just in case it pops back up at some point. I loved the sound effect as the camera circled around and Yeowoon realized his name was being called.

Yeowoon is recalculating his affection, and the number starts moving up fast. Lol. This feels very much like love indeed. Highs and lows and emotional turbulence. Some might say that's the fickle nature of teenage affection. I'd say that doesn't ever really change. But maybe that's just the nature of my personal relationship talking. Maybe it'd help if we had affection scores above our head so we'd both know when we screwed up. On second thought, I don't think I'd want to know my score. That feels like a recipe for disaster.

Yeowoon takes his place at the blocks with magic sparkles coming off of his blue shoes. The affection level keeps rising.

If this wasn't a "game", the new shoes would be disastrous in a competition. But as I've thought about it, I actually like that this feels like an equipment upgrade in a game. Higher tier equipment immediately leads to better outcomes in a game assuming you have the skills to use it.

The music reminds me of late 90s/early 2000s movies. I kind of love it since we're panning across Sangwon and Kyunghoon's faces, and it feels like a friend montage moment out of one of those types of "high school" movies. Ah nostalgia.

Affection level is back at 0. The subtitles say Yeowoon is second, but I'm guessing he's actually third. They announced two other names before him.

Yep, he's third place based on the next part of the dialogue. Myungha says he did well. Yeowoon is crying, but Myungha definitely doesn't understand the reason. Yeowoon is trying to figure out why Myungha is nice to him.

Poor boy is definitely dealing with romantic feelings now. I'm loving the romance driven emotional angst of it all. This is my cup of tea.

The coach interrupts. Yeowoon is still emotional, but Myungha says he'll wait. They can eat together afterwards. Yes, please do. I'm always going to be down for a shared meal.

Yay! Our whole crew is EATING together! And Yeowoon is smiling.

Yeowoon tells Myungha to eat too and gives him food. OMG - our affection level has crossed the zero threshold. We're now at 5. And it keeps climbing as he keeps giving Myungha food. Lol. Kyunghoon tells Myungha to eat slowly and Sangwon's face is priceless! He seems absolutely disgusted by Yeowoon's actions. We end on an affection level of 17 for now.

Sangwon and Yeowoon are bickering. I love it. so. much. Frenemy relationships are the best. I'm looking forward to seeing how this develops moving forward.

For those that like talks about linguistics, they said a bit about honorifics too. If I followed it correctly, Sangwon used more casual speech with Myungha and Yeowoon didn't like it. I could be mistaken though. Myungha really is the exasperated parent here. Lol. Cutie Kyunghoon helps Myungha out. He is worried that Yeowoon's feet might hurt since he ran with new shoes.

Yeowoon says he's fine, but he asks what happened to Myungha's leg.

🤣 This pout had me dying. For the game aspect, it really is like now that his "affection level" has went up, it's unlocked all kinds of new dialogue/expression options.

I wonder if Myungha realizes that his leg getting hurt was due to the purple energy. He's a smart cookie. I bet he's figured that out.

This whole scene just put me in a good mood.

Yeowoon offers to help "hold" Myungha. I'm betting there's a better translation of that. Kyunghoon used the term earlier too. I bet it has to do with letting Myungha lean on him or something like that rather than "hold" as I typically interpret. Myungha says he fine.

Yeowoon wants Myungha to rely on him too. This is a tricky situation. Yeowoon wants them to be EQUALS, but Myungha is definitely going to struggle with that. Myungha has taken on a caretaker role, and while those things aren't mutually exclusive, it can make things complex.

Yeowoon asks how Myungha knows his (shoe) size. Myungha says he let the fan (sis) pick it out, and that she wants to meet Yeowoon. Yeowoon doesn't seem happy about Myungha hanging out with her often, but he agrees to meet up with Si-a.

Yeowoon has essentially walked Myungha home. He tells him thank you which Myungha teases him about. But he says it again and leaves.

The entry light starts flickering and there are some jarring sounds. Ominous music plays, and Myungha's head is hurting.

OOOOOOH. It WAS development like "game in development". Exciting.

We're back at the bar from episode 1. Senior is asking Myungha questions.

I first noticed the three butterflies in the corner of the paper. It shouldn't be a surprise given my blog name that I'm likely to notice butterflies. They're a symbol of transformation and personal growth. Actually, they have different stages of development just like a game. A butterfly's development requires they insulate themselves from the world and focus on changing themselves before they can emerge in their final form. I don't know whether that has anything to do with this show or not though.

But these questions are interesting. Yes, I used my phone to translate. Though it kept giving slightly different translations depending on the angle I held it, I think I got the gist of it. One of the things says "like minded friends" which was what the quest said in episode 2. If I remember correctly, that was in Myungha's hand writing. So is senior having Myung-ha essentially write the game levels? I had said in an earlier episode that this was really a quest for Myungha's own happiness as well.

It WAS his writing. I love this shot. It feels like a magic dungeon with the candles and lighting. The shape of the glass is nice. I think it's a glencairn whiskey glass. Actually no. The base is wrong. It doesn't matter. The glass itself is probably not symbolic. I just find certain types of glassware pretty. As a fun side note, I used to drink everything (soda, milk, etc.) out of a red wine glass that I got while dumpster diving in college. I loved that beautiful glass. My roommate eventually broke it "on accident", but said it was "probably for the best" so that people didn't think I was drinking alcohol. Fun times 🙄.

It's late/early. I'm rambling. *Focus brain*

Senior is in white as the "heavenly" being with the power. Am I supposed to trust him? I don't. But it feels like he's God/angel coded.

"Will there be happiness to 29 year old Tae Myungha?"

"So the standard is very important." says Senior.

Myungha doesn't hear him clearly, and we can't hear his next line clearly either. He's muffled as if he's under water. It's the same sound as when he first entered the game world.

This feels important, and it feels mistranslated. Or at least like it was translated without the needed nuance. I need to pause anyways. I'm tired enough that I know I'll miss details if I keep going tonight.

(pause)

Ok. I've slept a few hours and hung out with the kids for a bit. I've mulled it over. I'm guessing that senior is really meaning that Myungha needs to be very careful about what goals/words he's using. Happy is a pretty vague term. I actually walked down the aisle to a song called "Different Kinds of Happy" from the movie Sweet Land. The idea/theme in that movie is that happiness can take different forms and mean different things to different people. In a game, if you don't have a clearly defined objective, then it's going to be difficult to meet it. So what does Myungha actually mean by "happy"?

But Myungha "can't hear" what senior is telling him. Myungha, and us by extension, are missing a critical piece of information. I'm guessing it has to do with the standard/clearer objective or that it's a warning of some kind.

We're back in the video game world. Myungha is looking at his notes.

AND OMG - YES! HOORAY! A time jump/alternate world that GETS how problematic it is for a 29 year old to be suddenly back in high school. The dialogue is clearly establishing that he IS 19 in this world. It's how I had resolved it mentally myself in episode 2. I love it when my head canons become actual canon.

Anyways, it's a good question. What CAN he do? Because "making someone happy" on a identity level scale really isn't easy. I would argue that it's not actually possible. That they have to strive for their own happiness as they accept themselves. It's not just circumstances that's driving Yeowoon's mental disdain for himself. New shoes are great, but they're not a long term solution. When you're dealing with suicidal ideation the other person has to "want" to live. A lot of times they don't even realize it until the moment. Yeah, it wasn't my grandfather's first attempt before he succeeded. My brother's neither. So far my brother has always decided he wanted to live and sought help in time.

I love that Myungha is being smart about this. He goes "What does he WANT me to do?" If you're playing a game, that's an important question. It's anticipating the game maker's design. I am noticing that the butterfly is on the journal paper here. But it's only one this time, and it's in the top right corner instead of the bottom corner.

Now THAT'S interesting. He doesn't remember "senior". There are a lot of fun implications in this development, but I'll have to stop for now. It looks like my husband has got off of work early today. It's a national holiday. I should've expected it. This will have to wait until after everyone is asleep tonight. I didn't get very far in this session, but it's fine. I really should've been working/writing anyways. I have five scripts due in the next two weeks.

(pause)

Well...the emoji tag game happened, and I got a wee bit carried away with it. I loved it so much. But then my brain was broke so it's taken a few days to get back here.

The fact that Myungha doesn't remember "senior" from his real life is a cool detail. I had said I thought it was in odd in episode 1 that he wasn't weirded out by the situation. It could mean that ONLY senior is obscured. Or it could mean that the facts of his "future" will slowly disappear as he creates a new story leaving him only with the 19 year old version of Myungha. There are a few other possibilities too, but I'll go with those two for now. I actually like the latter one in some ways. I don't remember if he recalled senior once he entered the video game during episode 1. That would provide evidence for which possible interpretations to keep moving forward. I might have to go back and check that out.

Regardless, we know this memory was jarring. The question is what triggered the memory.

We're down to 288 days left to complete our mission so a good bit of time has passed, and we're reminded that death is the penalty. We still don't know whose death we're talking about though.

We cut to Kyunghoon and Myungha walking down the hall together. Myungha is complaining that the teacher treats him like a thug. Kyunghoon proposes that they go to college together, drink together and have fun together in the future. I love the video game sound effects in the music/soundtrack.

OH! Random thought. I wonder if those sound effects show up at critical/specific moments. Is this like the rain drops in When It Rains or just a fun part of the soundtrack? Sound analysis is tricky for me, but it can add a lot to a show. And I LOVE it when sound is used symbolically. That would require an entire rewatch though as I'd have to focus just on the sound. I'll try to make note of it moving forward though to see if I can find a pattern. I can't promise I'll catch it every time though.

Hold up. We HAVE had a sound. The freaking water. I said before that it sounded like water when Myungha is shifting between worlds. That's definitely a specific sound at critical moments. Is that significant? Is it even water? Stop brain. You know your hearing can't be trusted. Move on.

Myungha is obviously uncomfortable here. Probably because he knows that he doesn't have that kind of time. He was just reminded of the countdown. It could also be because he didn't have that kind of life in the past. I don't know if he has those resources in the current videogame timeline either. Money isn't an obstacle for Kyunghoon. But it will be for Myungha and Yeowoon. But I figure it's that he feels like he's lying to Kyunghoon by agreeing to a future that may not exist. Yeowoon has already called him a liar after all.

Ah, the bullies are circling for blood. Frizzy blond guy asks Myungha if he's gay and is obviously intimidating Kyunghoon. Myungha says "I'm gay. So what." That's the confidence of someone who is very comfortable with themselves. I wonder if he was always that way, or if this is a manifestation of him already working through that part of his identity in the "real world".

Cutie Kyunghoon steps in between to protect Myungha 🙌🙌🙌. This is VERY important. Why? Because it's a dynamic shift. Myungha is collecting people in his life that care about him too and who will stand up for him even if it's risky. He's gathering "like minded friends" as well.

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Myungha kisses the bully.

Should I be laughing? Probably not. This is a forced kiss. But AM I laughing? 100% yes. And all of the bully gang not knowing how to respond is epic.

Blond guy is rightfully angry, and Myungha just scolds him for swearing. What I love about this interaction is that it quickly and decidedly shifted who was the "victim" in this interaction.

Blond guy - Tak ...Joonho? It'll eventually stick with me. Anyways, he punches Myungha and we see Myungha deftly assert his dominance. He threatens to kiss him again.

This is the second interaction where Myungha has really shown this guy to be pretty pathetic. As he seems to be a leader in this "gang", he's probably not going to react to this well. He wouldn't be able to keep power over his bully gang if he ignored things like this. I'd expect backlash soon. He'll either take it out on his own members or start targeting people Myungha cares about (Yeowoon, Kyunghoon). Potentially both. If he comes after Myungha himself, it will be sneaky style. He can't (or shouldn't) risk another direct confrontation like this one. He's already lost twice.

Teacher intervenes. Apparently Myungha has got some type of cleaning duty punishment.

Yeowoon is on the other side of the window being cleaned. I'm trying to figure out if Yeowoon had heard about the fight or he just noticed Myungha's busted lip. Either way, his expressions here are KILLING me. They are so earnest and so different than what we had in previous episodes. The rise in affection level has definitely had an impact.

Myungha tries to brush it off, but Yeowoon won't let him. "Who hit you?" Myungha tells him he doesn't need to know.

Yeowoon gets very serious. Just like that earlier interaction with Kyunghoon, this is actually very important. Yeowoon is asking to be seen as an equal. As someone that Myungha can rely on. He's asking Myungha to trust him. Ooh interesting. Yeowoon dropped honorifics.

Yeowoon drags Myungha to the nurse's office. It's a reverse of care. Yeowoon taking care of Myungha. I mean, technically Yeowoon had intervened before. However, this is DIRECT care. Yeowoon asks if he's really not going to tell him. Myungha responds "What would you do if you knew?". Yeowoon - "I'll kill him". 🥹 Yes, I'm taking the threat as a squee worthy moment. There was no hesitation. Just a direct assertion of "you matter to me that much".

Myungha rubs his head.

I'm going to have to think about this one. Why is this man's physical affection so hard for me to interpret? This feels like a parent/child interaction to me. Which...is possible. Is he in guardian mode? Trying to calm Yeowoon down while acknowledging that he's grateful for Yeowoon caring about him? Or do other people see this as just a friendly interaction? Because things would not end well if my friend rubbed my head and used that tone with me. I'd see it as condescending for sure. But cultural differences could be in play here. I'm going with guardian mode.

Myungha says that rather than hit, it's more like we kissed. And Yeowoon's reaction is amazing.

Myungha is flustered by Yeowoon's reaction. Yeowoon has to be cycling through all kinds of feelings. One - this gives him hope. Two - Myungha was kissing someone besides him.

So many thoughts running through this boy's mind.

He says he should ask Tak Joonho. That means he DOES know who was involved, but he wanted Myungha to confide in him on his own. "Can men kiss too?" "I want to kiss him" while staring at Myungha's lips and putting on the ointment. Baby boy is down bad.

We cut to Sangwon coming towards the bully gang. There's the "hi" again. Love it. But it does feel like he's out of the loop. It feels more like he's invading their space. @dropthedemiurge I see what you meant now. He's not part of the hierarchy of this group. The uniforms vs. plain shirt is visually depicting that as well. That does make me have some questions about the earlier rooftop scene, but I'll hold them for now.

Did he come because he had heard about the fight? Or is this just part of his routine? He does seem to do whatever he wants. Case in point - he didn't come to class just because he didn't want to. Skipping seems to be a regular occurrence for him.

Tak Joonho says that he's going to teach Myungha/Kyunghoon a lesson. Sangwon is trying to put the pieces together. I do find it odd that Joonho is openly admitting that Myungha kissed him. I would've expected him to threaten the others and keep that quiet. Unless he's expecting Sangwon to commiserate with him and understand.

Not happening though. Sangwon is clearly on Myungha's side in this one. I figure he knows Tak Joonho enough to know he instigated whatever happened. The chuckling of the other students as Sangwon pushes back has got to raise Joonho's ire.

Tak Joonho thinks Sangwon is teasing him, but he's actually angry.

I'm rewording this line a little bit in my head to fit better with that sassy head tilt that just made me so happy. In some ways, it's a lot like Myungha earlier. "Yes. I am. What are you going to do about it?" It's a statement and a challenge.

Unlike Myungha, Sangwon does punch Joonho and IMMEDIATELY puts his hands back in his pockets. LMAO. That's a dominance signal right there. He knows Joonho isn't going to immediately punch back. He doesn't see him as a threat.

Joonho says he's holding back because he's rich. Sure you are. Keep telling yourself that. Kyunghoon seems to be pretty rich too, and you tease him just fine.

Note - I do realize that they've said that Sangwon can get away with everything due to his family. I'm sure it does play some role. But it's not everything. Sangwon is exuding dominance in this situation. He's even leaning in a mock little bow and saying "thank you" in a snarky tone. God, I love him and his self-confidence. He has grown on me so much, and I'm only halfway through this show.

Joonho asks if he can't see that he's outnumbered.

Sangwon (in other words): Bring it.

I'm sorry. I've tried to ignore that hideous wall color this entire show, but now we've added what has to be one of the ugliest arrangements known to mankind in front of it. I'm sure there are people who like that kind of thing, but it just makes me wonder why someone thought a feather duster was appealing. Normally I would be trying to figure out if the red meant something, but I just can't. It's an eyesore.

Is Si-a considered part of our gaming party now. I'm not sure. 🤔 They're collectively worrying about Sangwon though.

Si-a asks if Myungha wants to be a model for Swoony (the brand). The pay is better after all. Pay is always an enticing thing.

Myungha tells Si-a to buy him dinner. I'm confused. Why does he want Si-a to buy him dinner? 🤔 Myungha doesn't do things without a purpose. What's the catch?

LMAO. It's because Yeowoon is here. He's giving her the fangirl moment. Yes, she better buy the meal. A good one too.

Wait. Her name has an "h" sound? The subtitles now say "Shi-a". Did I miss that before? No. I'm pretty sure that's a change in subtitles.

Yeowoon looks ticked. My guess is that he thought he was going to get to eat with Myungha alone. He wouldn't be reacting like this if he had known it'd be a fangirl moment. Yeowoon is being very terse. Yes, he seems to be a more introverted, private person. But this is what you do when you're thrown for a loop. Myungha, you really need to give us introverts a heads up for these types of situations. Especially true if you gave us false expectations and now expect us to socialize with someone we are not comfortable around.

I'm still bitter over there being no food at the company meal that I drove two hours to yesterday. Don't promise me food and then give me a non-alcoholic beer instead. Shared meals are sacred. Oh...it's probably this kind of stuff that prompted the anon's "what's with you and food" question the other day. I get it now. Sorry anon. I didn't understand what you were asking.

I'm squirreling. None of that's really relevant. Yeowoon is just upset because he expected alone time with Myungha (pretty sure on that one), and he isn't getting it.

This conversation is awkward. Si-a signals Myungha to please help. Myungha asks Yeowoon if he has any questions. "Are you two close?" I've said all along that I love how direct Yeowoon is with Myungha. If he has questions, he is going to ask them. It's admirable, but lol. He's not looking at Si-a at all. Yeowoon is grilling Myungha.

Myungha responds playfully and tries to direct the conversation back to Si-a. I actually see that as a way of trying to include her in the conversation. He was trying to create a fan moment for her after all. Si-a says they're just colleagues which Yeowoon smiles about. But then Myungha protests that designation.

Yeowoon didn't like that at all. 🤣 "Are you closer to her than you are to me?" I love that Si-a can see this is important to Yeowoon. She's giving Myungha this look that's like "You idiot. Don't you dare make my blorbo upset!"

Myungha says "I only have Yeowoon in my heart" which makes Yeowoon beam. Si-a takes the opportunity to ask for an autograph. Si-a, I know I struggled with you in earlier episodes. I'm sorry. I can respect your non-toxic, supportive fangirl side.

"What do you think of when you run?" "I imagine there's a big crocodile chasing me." Well...that would be motivation I guess. I never imagined what was behind me when I ran. I was always focused on the finish line. Different things for different people I guess.

Ok Yeowoon. Let's not manifest that energy. There are too many trucks of doom in dramaland. And I've had two of my family members hit by vehicles. They survived, but they still have side effects. My brother got hit by a car while he was INSIDE a building.

Anyways, Yeowoon is saying that the vision has changed. He now imagines that someone is waiting for him at the finish line.

Sweet. I wish I knew what his personal affection was at this point though. We're seeing the impact of Myungha's affection level changing in his mannerisms and dialogue, but has it impacted how he sees himself?

Si-a says that's romantic, and Myungha breaks eye contact and visibly shifts. Lol. He felt that one.

We cut to them walking home. Yeowoon tries to ask Myungha about Joonho again, but Myungha says that Yeowoon isn't allowed to say kiss.

We got confirmation that Yeowoon thought it was going to be the two of them. Myungha chastises him a bit saying he needs friends. That's really not the point Myungha.

Yeowoon said that he's annoyed. Myungha says "he's been rude lately". Did he drop honorifics?

Yeowoon says "I want to go play with you". My kinky brain takes that line a completely different way that intended. But he's asking him out really. I LOVE this frame. There's a blinding light of love, but it's mostly over Yeowoon. Yeowoon knows he wants to kiss Myungha. He knows he wants to spend time with Myungha 1-1. Myungha still hasn't come to that realization yet.

It's an amusement park near the sea. Myungha seems hesitant, but he says yes. Wasn't Myungha's mom near the sea? I wonder if that's part of his hesitation. Yeah, there's definitely something there. This means something more to Myungha for some reason. But he's agreeing anyway.

Well hello. 👀 She's pretty. She was hidden initially in the frame, but they've now exposed her as she's asking Si-a for help. Who is she? Is this the person returned from abroad that Kyunghoon mentioned?

We're now in a dream sequence. 100%. "Do it with me too. The kiss."

Based on the game interface, this is Myungha's dream. Fun. Realization is coming. It's a bit of a kabedon moment with the tree. I'm enjoying it, because as confident as Myungha was when he kissed Joonho, he's not confident at all here. He's flustered.

Myungha wakes up.

Yeowoon has been sending him messages. Apparently he woke up early. If you get messages from me at 4 am, it means I haven't went to bed yet. Not unusual.

Myungha has a message from an unknown number. It's referencing children's day, mother's day, and teacher's day. Myungha isn't sure who it's from though. My immediate guess is his mom. But that doesn't make sense. He hasn't had contact with his mom since he was really little.

Is it the heavenly senior? We know information about the game comes to Myungha through his phone. "But no time for me to meet you." It's reminding me of the poem I wrote for my grandfather following his suicide. It wasn't about holidays/time, but about hiking trails. That was our thing. "But no trail that brings me to you." Crap. I'm crying again. This has been a week of tears in BL land. For the record, I cry very little in real life. But I bawl like a baby watching shows. It's cathartic in some ways. I can't analyze this properly. I'm going to read things into this that aren't there. I'm sure this will become a reoccurring event. I'll wait until the next message to figure it out.

Yeowoon came to pick Myungha up, and it looks like he paid for the bus fare for both of them. Cutie. Myungha may not realize it, but Yeowoon is definitely taking him on a date.

The mural next to the bus is of the sea. I could get a better angle this time. Phone keeps translating different based on angle, but it's better than last time. Something about sacred and beautiful love. Something about a lighthouse.

I love that Yeowoon quickly says "Look at the seagulls". There were birds on the mural too. Seagulls are a trip down memory lane for me. I got handed a bone during my oral qualification exams and asked what I could tell the professors about it. It was a seagull bone.

Seagulls have so many different symbolic meanings depending on culture. I know there are a few different takes in literature. There are also a lot of different meanings for them in Native American lore. Some positive, some negative. It depends on the tribe. A lot of it has to do with their ability to navigate in a storm and overcome obstacles if I remember correctly. There might have been something about the connection between physical and spiritual realms which would be interesting given the premise of this show. Like a bridge or messenger between the two. I don't know what they typically means in S. Korea though. I'll dive into that later.

Yeowoon says he should've brought shrimp chips. They're not my favorite, but my sous chef loves shrimp chips.

Oh. We're feeding them to the seagulls? I mean, they'll eat it. It's a fun experience for the human. It probably doesn't give them the nutrients they need.

Myungha asks if Yeowoon likes the sea. Yeowoon says he likes the mountains more. I love them both, but I live closer to the mountains. I've asked my kids this question before. One chose sea. One chose mountains. One chose "Wherever Uncle Zach is". Yeah, I'm not the only one who thinks my brother is awesome.

They're planning to climb mountains. Yeowoon wants to climb "Kongryung". Based on Myungha's reaction, that must be a hard climb. Based on Yeowoon's reaction, I'm guessing it's a long one. "I'm happy to be with you." Myungha doesn't seem sure how to process that.

Yeowoon asks if Myungha has been here before.

This feels like a lie. It's going to be interesting if lying becomes a thing for Myungha. Well-intentioned lies. But lies nonetheless. It might not be a lie though. That's just my gut talking.

They're planning on going to a clam kal-guksu place. I enjoy noodle soups, but I've never had clams in any capacity. They're not very common here. I have dissected one and done an experiment on heart rate for a class though. Not important.

Apparently, Yeowoon doesn't like seafood. And Myungha slips up. He's using information from the manuscript. Yeowoon is rightfully perplexed and then amused that Myungha knows this about him.

"Sometimes it feels like you're someone that knows me."

Yeah, that's probably going to hurt when he realizes Myungha has known about him all along.

All of Yeowoon's little smiles are killing me this episode.

Yeowoon says he now understands why Myungha likes the sea. Did Myungha say he liked the sea? I don't remember that. 🤔 It could be in an earlier episode, or I could have overlooked it. If he likes the sea though - is that why we have a water sound? Yes, I'm still stuck there. My brain is still obsessing over a sound that probably isn't even what I think it is. I curse my brain sometimes.

Yeowoon says "I've come to like it too". Cut away to them sitting on the stairs in their coordinating blue/green shirts.

There is so much I could say about that closing frame, but I know that I'm out of images. Anyways, we're halfway up the stairs. We're building the relationship. We're sitting side by side. We're equal...in this moment at least. There's no railings on this part. It'd be easy to fall off the sides.

The blue/green combo I find interesting, because it's a shift. These two characters have worn a lot of black & white. What does the shift mean? Is it part of their relationship developing or the changing levels of affection?

Is this show even color coded? I'll have to think about that. Because Sangwon also wears a white undershirt. He's definitely not a "heavenly human" type. Wait...is Myungha the ONLY one wearing a different color undershirt as part of their uniform? Is he the only one in black? I guess that makes senses. He's from a "different" world after all. But why black? Actually, Yeowoon's running outfit was in black too when he had the -100 value. So Myungha isn't the only one in black. Nevermind. I was overthinking again.

This was a fun episode. I'm loving that Yeowoon is so open and direct with his feelings. Myungha isn't there yet, but he's beginning to react. Now I just need to convince my brain that it's 4 am and it needs to just let the water sound go. IS IT WATER?!?

Don't tell me. Because if it is water, that means it's important. And if it's not water, I'll eventually realize it wasn't important.

For now, I'll just distract my brain with a more pressing question - what happened to Sangwon?

[hanckocks-dagger]

oh, the night's so blue

masterlist

John hancock x f!reader

Description: After a drunken one night stand with your boss and mayor, you'd planned on hiding out in your room for several months. Those plans get delayed when Nate, general of the Minutemen and your childhood friend, asks you to join him on a quest in the west of the Commonwealth.

Tags: Drunken one night stand, Hancock is a pining simp, and a slut. Reader is not SoSu, has afab characteristics and is referred to with she/her pronouns through the story. No y/n

Warnings: Smut! Drunk sex, consentual but I'll throw in the dubcon tag anyway, talk of violence, guns and drugs a lá Fallout ofc

Word count: 6.1K

Notes: So this is a one-shot that sort of feeds into an idea I've had in my head for a while, of a reader that knew Nate from before the bombs, who either ended up in Vault 111 as well or something similar, but got out about a year before Nate did. This might end up turning into a series of semi-connected one-shots or I might just cut it off here, but I definitely have some other ideas for this story rolling around in my head. More story focused than some of my other fics, delving a bit more into what actually living in the game's story would be like, but of course a hefty dose of our lovely Hancock. But I really like Nate, and I didn't want to make the reader the Sole Survivor so we could see the two of them interact. Also my Nate build is usually high charisma, high strength and low intelligence (idiot savant perk ofc), so he's a bit of a himbo <3 my fav type of man.

Also just a small and totally irrelevant thing, but I headcanon Nate/the sole survivor as choosing not to smoke, just because the player isn’t able to smoke in the game. Just a fun tidbit I threw in there. Also, I’m a smoker and I have friends who aren’t and the relentless back and forth teasing is always fun. They all vape anyway, so it’s just a race for who gets cancer first lmao. 

Cross posted on my ao3!

"What's the status on the top shelf stuff?" You yelled out from the back room, wiping drops of sweat from your forehead before they could drop into your eyes. Sure, the new beer tap was ingenious, making the closest thing to actual fresh beer since you'd come out on this side of the cryo-chamber, but goddamn were the canisters heavy.

"Almost out of moonshine, luv," Charlie called from the bar, tinny cockney accent carrying through the open space.

That was fine, you could drop by and speak to Vadim tomorrow before opening, as long as Hancock could supply the caps and lend you some help to carry the bottles back.

"Anything else?" You grunted, heaving a full canister back out to the front, bending down to connect the pipes.

"I think you should start carrying some Fireball, I know how much you used to like it," A new voice spoke up from the other side of the bar, startling you into banging your head on the underside of the bartop. You cursed, shooting to your feet, finding a ginning, familiar face on the other side.

"Nate!"

He said your name back with the same amount of enthusiasm, slouched in one of the barstools, familiar bright blue vault suit looking a little worse for wear.

"When did you get in? How did you get in?" You asked, eyes flitting about. Sure enough, there in the background, spread over one of the couches was mayor Hancock, speaking with a smiling Magnolia and a broody looking MacReady.

"Just landed in town, figured I'd come say hi before crashing at the Rexford."

"Well, shit," You breathed, wiping your sweaty hands on a dishrag, "Can I get you a drink? I want to hear about this oh-so-secret mission you were on."

"Sure, I'll take a beer."

You fished over a clean-ish looking glass, gave it a quick wipe for good measure, and poured. The movements were practiced, muscle memory from a lifetime ago taking over as you tilted the glass, filled it, flicked the spout the other way for some top foam. You slid it over the bar, accepting Nate’s smile as payment. 

You grabbed yourself a glass, calling out to Charlie as you filled the glass with ice, “I’m calling it a night, just leave me a list of whatever needs to be done in the morning.

You poured yourself some of the top shelf stuff, nothing good by pre-war standards, but nowadays it was rare and mostly didn't taste like it was 200 years old.

You stepped around the bar, planning on planting yourself on a stool next to Nate, but he was already rising to his feet, heading for the rest of the group.Hiding your awkwardness, you trailed after him. You knew MacReady tangentially, sometimes bringing him drinks into the backroom, keeping an eye out for disagreements and sometimes running up to get Ham when things were getting out of hand. Magnolia was your coworker of course, and there was plenty to talk about after long shifts, but she was– technically speaking– about twenty years your senior, and married to her job in a way you weren't.

Then there was Mayor Hancock. A charming flirt at the best of times, happy to stand up for you on the job, as the owner of the bar, after all, but there was always something about him you never managed to crack, never straying away from genial small talk. Small talk, of course, these days, meant discussing the last Super Mutant raid, or let him rattle off about his favorite chems. As you approached, he tipped his hat at you and you responded with a little curtsy, using your free hand to tug on your apron like a skirt. 

You fell onto the couch beside Nate, stirring your drink with a finger, using your other hand to untie the apron around your waist. Being off your feet felt good. There were no clocks in the Third Rail, and no windows, so your sense of time tended to get a bit skewed, but seeing as Ham usually tossed out the stragglers by 5 am and you'd had a mess and a half to clean up, you assumed it must be closing in on dawn. A rough 12 hour shift made your liquor feel earned, as you sipped at it, feeling the warmth spread through your chest.

"So," You said, catching Nate's attention before he could get sucked into the others' conversation, "What was the notorious General of the Minutemen up to this week? Liberating some more settlements?"

"Mmm, actually doing some work for the Railroad," His tone went hushed, unnecessary and strangely endearing, as everyone in the bar knew and was at least non-committal about their activities.

"Ahh," You replied, matching his tone. "Did it go well?"

"It went fantastically. I brought my own team in," He motioned with his beer toward Hancock and MacCready, "But we ended up getting some help from another agent, too. And, man, what a lady," he went a bit starry eyed, making you laugh.

"Got a little crush, Nathaniel?"

He snorted, and you spotted the tinge of red in his cheeks with glee. 

"Nothing like that, but what a powerhouse. You should have seen her, mowing them down with a minigun."

"Don't sell yourself short, Nate, I've seen you in Power Armor before. Unstoppable force and all that."

Ever humble, Nate's cheeks turned rosier, and he glanced down at his drink. You watched his Adam's apple bob, the shy smile that graced his features.

To put him out of his misery, you turned to the group at large, "So, does this mean you've returned our beloved mayor back, or are you heading out again?"

Hancock's attention snapped up from MacReady so he could grin at you, "What, you missed me doll?"

"Well, you do sign my paychecks," You smiled back at him, then remembered, "Oh, yeah, speaking of, I have to go over to Diamond City tomorrow to get more of Bobrov's best, maybe I can steal Nate to help me ferry it all back."

He hummed, "What d'ya say, brother? 100 caps to keep my favorite employee safe?"

From behind the bar, Charlie gave his best impression of a grunt, "I resent that, mayor!"

"'M sorry, Charlie, you just don't have her charm."

"Or her tits," Magnolia chimed in, twirling an unlit cigarette in her fingers as she smirked at you.

You flushed, eyes flitting around, finally landing on Hancock and MacReady's empty glasses, "Refills, boys?"

"Thought you'd clocked out," MacReady said, even as he handed over his glass. "Well, I'm the club's ambassador even after hours, gotta keep the reputation up."

"You best not be giving free drinks to every sorry brother that walks in here," Hancock called after you as you stepped behind the bar.

"Mm, no," You sing-songed back, "Only my favorites."

The night passed easily. You stayed by Nate’s sidelistening to him tell tales of the people he'd been meeting, the farm he recruited for the minutemen last week. He didn't delve too far into this last mission, always the good soldier who followed orders. You spent about twenty minutes trying to guess his secret Railroad code name.

"Mmmm, buttercup."

"Not even close."

"Sugar bomb?"

The look of offense he gave you was so scathing it had you spitting out half your beer over the table, doubled over in laughter as he complained.

"It relates to my prowess as an agent, not some pre-war pet name!"

"Fine, fine, uhhhh. Striker? Shadow? Tank?"

"Honestly, these are terrible. Never open a baby naming business."

"Uhm, excuse you," You said, taking a sip of beer to try and reduce the heat in your cheeks, "I would make excellent raider names. Chainsaw, evil-eye, uhhhhh," You cast your eyes around, searching for inspiration, "Ricky."

"Ricky?" MacReady asked, eyebrows knit in confusion, "What's wrong with Ricky?"

"Dunno," You shrugged, "Doesn't he just sound like an asshole?" You put on an air, repeated 'Ricky' in an ominous voice, which got MacReady and Nate to crack up again.

Magnolia vanished up to the surface after a bit of flirting with Hancock, insisting on her beauty sleep. As was your usual, you whistled after her, calling lewd, joking comments as she walked up the steps. As was her usual, she gave you a scowl and the middle finger.

"Ehhh, I'll get her to crack one of these days," You murmured into your beer, that tipsy, never ending giddy smile stuck on your lips. You caught Hancock's eye where he sat, now alone on the couch, spread eagle with his gangly limbs. When he spotted you, he gave you a grin, cigarette in his teeth.

Suddenly you desperately wanted a smoke. You patted your own pockets, found that you'd left them at home. You cursed the you from the morning for whatever logic had made that choice, suddenly desperate for nicotine.

Your head, resting against the back of the couch, lolled to look over at Nate. Who, of course, didn't and had never smoked. Goody-two-shoes.

So, you clambered to your feet, ignoring the ache that made itself apparent, and collapsed over besides Hancock.

"Does the good mayor have some cigarettes to share?" You asked, hand on his knee, leaning in close to be heard over a playful argument MacReady and Nate had started.

Hancock's smile got wider somehow, those deep dark eyes crinkling at the corner, giving the appearance of crow's feet.

"For you? Always." He dug around in the deep pocket's of that crazy coat, pulling out a cigarette case. Instead of handing you one, though, he plucked the one from his mouth and stuck it into yours.

Brain slowed by a long shift and plenty of alcohol, it took a moment for the action to catch up with, fingers rising slowly to pluck at the cigarette. You blinked at him, but he seemed unphased, pulling out another cigarette from his case and lighting it.

You leant back in the couch as your brain caught up on his move, staring blankly at a gesturing Nate, MacReady equally engrossed, somehow having missed the interaction that now had your brain reeling. Hancock's arm was stretched out behind you, tantalizingly close, fingers almost tickling the hairs at the back of you neck. You felt the chill of goosebumps, shook off the urge to shiver.

You puffed at the cigarette instead, slowly sinking back in the couch, reverting back to the sort of talk you were used to with the mayor, "How'd you like the trip? Nice to get out of the city?"

Hancock took it in stride, as he did everything, "Oh, yeah. Makes you forget what's out there, staying too long in these walls."

You hummed your assent. You stuck to Goodneighbor because you wanted to stay alive. The furthest you'd ventured in the last year was scoping out that brewery for the Rexford. But Hancock was a ghoul, and even so was more careless with safety than anyone else you knew. Getting out of the city, with only yourself and the stars as company... it was a romantic idea.

"So, what, we're gonna become the Railroad's home base now?" You teased,

"Not exactly," Hancock replied, flicking ash off the end of his cigarette, "But Nate knows his shit, and he trusts them. They're doing good, dontcha think?"

You considered this, rolling it around in your liquor soaked brain, "I guess it depends on whether you think the synths are just robots or... y'know, slaves being put through just as much pain as we are."

Hancock nodded, eyes trained on you, expression curious. For all his flirting, Hancock was easily one of the more respectable men you'd met, always willing to listen, even if he was usually a bit too out of his mind to interpret it. He was whip-smart, too, when he was sober enough to put a thought together.

"I suppose it depends on if you believe in the soul. Do you, Mayor Hancock?" Some deep-seated, long ago buried urge reared his head. You remembered being a kid, sitting in a diner with high-school friends, batting your eyelashes at a crush of yours, a coy smile on your face, trying for a sultry voice and missing it by a mile. But now you were about two hundred years older, and had a few years of experience under your back.

So when you looked at Hancock through lidded eyes, purposely hollowed your cheek as you sucked on your cigarette, the one that had been in his mouth before yours, you could appreciate his reaction. The widening of his eyes, the way the hand behind your head seemed to move just a bit closer, the minute shift of his hips as his body turned further towards you.

"I think I'm a bit too sober for those kinds of questions," He snickered. Being a Ghoul made determining age difficult, but sometimes you were sure Hancock was young, younger than you even, the way he carried himself, the carelessness of a teenager.

You smiled back, soft, put your cigarette out in an ashtray on the table, picking up your glass instead.

Hancock said your name, sultry, and that hand finally brushed your shoulder, a gentle, teasing touch.

You answered with a smile, a tilted, " John," followed by a sip from your drink, one you concentrated all your effort into drinking as normally as you could. If you let your tongue slide over your lips to catch the lingering taste, well, no one had to know.

"You know," You said, voice hushed as if you were revealing a great secret, "I feel like I don't know you well enough. You haven't been around enough since you hired me."

"I knew I left the bar in good hands," As if to prove his point, his fingers teased over your bare forearm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "Maybe, I should- ah- give you a tour of the Old State House sometime."

The innuendo was painfully obvious, accompanied by a lecherous wink, but you felt your face flush anyway, ridiculously charmed by his brazenness.

Charlie ended up kicking the four of you out, insisting on sweeping before the sun came up. On the way up the stairs, conspicuously a few steps behind Nate and MacReady, the two of you got a bit too handsy, after you'd spent the last couple of minutes petting the velvet of his coat, hypnotized by the luxurious softness of the ancient costume, as Hancock rattled off history facts about Boston, some of which you'd half remembered from history class.

"Found the old fucker's diary in a closet on the second floor," He'd said, as your fingers traced down his arms, across his chest, barely disguised fascination. You wanted to steal his hat, tuck it onto your hair, flick it the way Hancock often did.

"That old bastard was– was kinkier than you could ever imagine," His voice stuttered as your fingers traced near his navel, studying the stitching on the waistcoats he wore.

"Oh yeah?" You snickered, loose enough with drinks to lose your impulse control chasing after whatever felt good in the moment. Mostly that had been cigarettes, but now it was the idea of kissing him, of feeling that mouth on you, anywhere.

"The mayor of Goodneighbor," You breathed, smoothing out his collar, "Keeping himself busy with five hundred year old porn."

Hancock laughed with you.

Outside, the two of you stumbled apart, leaning against the brick wall to share a cigarette, Nate and MacReady somehow still talking, even if Nate was shooting you curious glances and MacReady smirked every time your eyes passed over him.

Eventually, though, when a too loud sentence awoke a grumbling drifted who threatened to hurl a bottle at Nate, it was time to call it a night.

Nate clapped Hancock on the shoulder and kissed your cheek, which got him a punch on the arm, a bit harder than you meant to with the alcohol in your system. He took it like a champ, of course, calling out, "Have fun!" As he rounded the corner towards the Rexford.

MacReady vanished with a tip of his cap, leaving you with smoke in your mouth and the morning sun in your eyes.

"You want to take that tour now, doll?" The brush of a teasing hand over your lower back.

You thought about your dusty apartment, of waking up in a few hours to repeat the same shift for the millionth time. A cold bed, empty.

"Yeah," You breathed, hand catching on the fluttering sash around Hancock's waist, setting a firm pace and tugging him along with you like a dog on his leash. His hands found your hips before you even made it to the door, pinning you against the old wood to kiss you, deep and warm and wet. Your arms slid around his neck, pulling him closer, till you stood hip-to-hip, chest-to-chest.

Somehow, one of you got the door open, falling through the door, walking each other in an embrace towards the staircase. The kiss deepened, Hancock licked into your mouth as you bumped into the banister, struggled to keep your balance.You let him lead, pushing you backwards up the stairs, hands always gentle, ready to catch you if you tripped.

It was a drunken fumble, your shirt rucked up, trying to get all his stupid buttons unbuttoned as you staggered to the stairs, his lips suddenly attached to your neck.

His hands moved to your exposed waist as you reached the second floor, greedy hands moving over the expanse of skin. You huffed against his mouth, finding it unfair as you struggled to even get under his ridiculous fucking shirt, finally managing to sneak a hand under it, nails gently scratching against rough skin. You weren't exactly versed in Ghoul anatomy, but you'd heard enough complaining from drifters at the bar about the lack of feeling in their skin to know you'd have to push a little deeper, press a little harder. Sure enough, as Hancock lead you stumbling towards his bedroom, you pushed your hand up to his chest, pressing down into the meat of one of his shoulders, you received a deep groan against your mouth.

Then suddenly you were in the Mayor's bedroom. Clean enough, by the wasteland standards. Strewn with chems, as you'd anticipated, but the bed looked as clean as you could be.

Hancock had ended up behind you, hands sneaking around to your ass, your collar pushed to the side so he could kiss the exposed skin of your shoulder. It felt... nice. Soft. Softer than you'd anticipated from him. It sent an ache through you, not to your core, though electricity tingled, desperate for attention you hadn't provided it with in years. The ache was in your heart, extending out to your lungs, stealing your breath the way his kisses had, as he gently guided you towards the bed.

You spun around in his arms to capture his lips again, nipping at his bottom lips, hands moving to his waist, sneaking down into his waistband. The two of you danced around the room, lips locked, hands moving as clothes were unbuttoned, tossed to the side, shoes pulled off.

Then you were naked, falling onto a surprisingly plush mattress, as Hancock dropped his coat onto the back of his desk chair, pants unbuttoned and half falling off his skinny hips. He left the hat on, even as he stripped everything else off, and it made you huff a quiet, airy giggle. He grinned back at you, always happy to be happy, as he crawled on top of you, bracketing you between his legs.

His dick was the same as the rest of him, scarred and pocked, but you found you didn't mind in the slightest as your hands wandered downwards, teasingly gentle touches running over him, drawing out airy breaths and groans.

You were quick to guide him into you, pulling him down for a kiss when he entered you, sending shocks of burning pain through you, uncomfortable but manageable. Still, he noticed, unfocused eyes blinking down at you, a frown on his face.

"What's wrong?" "Nothing's wrong," You breathed, even through the tension of your muscles, "Just– uh– been a while. Gimme a moment."

He seemed unsure for a moment, looking as if he wanted to pull out, but you forced a calm through your muscles, slowly feeling him inch his way further inside, until the two of you were hip to hip. You breathed through the sting, shutting your eyes and guiding his face to your neck, happy when he got the hint and nipped at your skin. Your breath got shaky when he found a perfect spit by the junction of your neck and your shoulder, feeling his teeth sink into the flesh, soothed quickly with his tongue, with his spit-slick lips.

"Okay," You breathed eventually, one hand holding the back of his neck, the other clutching at the muscle on his back, "You can move."

"Are you–"

"Hancock," You said, voice firm. In a more sober state, his caution would touch you, but you were desperate to feel the drag of him, to feel his hips working. "I'm a big girl, it's okay. You can move."

He bent down to kiss you as he slowly pulled his hips back. With conscious effort to keep your muscles calm, your side of the kiss was a bit half hearted, but you gasped into his mouth as he pushed back in, the stretch not painful but, "So fucking perfect," You breathed, "Just like that."

Hancock was amazingly receptive, somehow cataloging every moan and twitch, and he had you pushed into the mattress within minutes, gasping and shaking beneath him. His hips drove into you at a perfect pace, his mouth moving to your tits, gentle bites at the soft skin, pulling your nipples into his mouth to flick at them with his tongue. Your whispered words of direction quickly dissolving into moans and gasps of his name.

Almost the exact second the thought of your clit popped into your head, his fingers were there, moving tight circles, pressure just the right side of too hard. You arched into him, a moan so loud it would have made you self conscious if you weren't too focused on driving him deeper, getting him closer, getting as much of his skin on you as you could.

Your orgasm approached with mounting tension in your muscled, strangled cries of more, harder, "Please, John."

You came with a strangled cry, every muscle in your body tensing and then going completely limp, gasps of air as your peak faded, replaced by a pleasant buzzing sensations. John's pace slowed as you shook, hands leaving your clit to grab at your hips, pull you towards him as he chased his own release. You were happy to let him, your hands exploring him leisurely, gripping at his biceps, his shoulders, wrapping around his neck to guide him into another kiss.

You could tell when he got close, the way his hips jerked, thrusts growing rushed and sloppy, desperate, the way his breath quickened, the way his dark eyes seemed to darken even further. At the last moment, he pulled out, wrapping his hand around his cock, haphazard pace the same as he fucked into his fist, a few more pumps and he came over your stomach. You tensed under the surprising heat of it, but relished the soft groan that escaped his mouth, head tilted back, mouth open,

He half collapsed on top of you, breathing against your mouth, only his arms holding him from falling into you. With every inhale, his expanding chest brushed against your breasts, every touch sending electric shots through you.

He collapsed beside you, still panting, one arm curling around your chest, just under your tits, pulling you into his side. "Just– give me a second, I'll get you something to clean up."

"Mmm," You breathed, relishing the heat of him, positive he was warmer than a normal person, the way it radiated off him, heating your skin at the contact points, "Don't worry about it. Deal with it in the morning." Your words were slurring, eyelids heavy.

"Mmm," Hancock agreed, tucking his face into your shoulder. He held you tight, like little kids held onto teddy bears. It was... nice. Unfamiliar to you, but, as you buried your head into the soft pillow, you supposed it was something you wouldn't mind getting used to.

You woke with a start, unfamiliar footsteps thudding above your head. It took a moment to reorient yourself, to recognize the walls you were blinking at, the hand tucked around your waist, the soft snores in your ear. Your head thudded, your mouth dry as a desert, tasting like cigarettes and whiskey. 

"Shit," You whispered, slowly extracting yourself from Hancock's warm arms, getting to your feet. Stark naked. Your pants were slung over a chair, one sock still in the pant leg, the other tossed onto a desk, surrounded by several tins of mentats and empty jet canisters.

"Fuck," You breathed, hopping around trying to get your socks on. One of your boots was on its side, halfway under the bed. Your shirt was hanging on the fucking doorknob and you tugged it on, ignoring the stale smell of sweat and alcohol that clung to it from last night’s shift.

You swept the room, but couldn't for the life of you find your underwear. The thought of leaving them somewhere was mortifying, but when Hancock shifted in the bed, you decided not to risk staying. You pulled your boots on, leaving them unlaced as you crept over the ancient floorboards. Seeing as Hancock was managing to sleep through the ruckus of the drifters on the top floor, you doubted the creak of the house would wake him, but you were still extra cautious as you cracked the bedroom doors open, just enough for you to slip through and rush down the staircase, pointedly not looking at any of the Neighborhood Watch.

Out in the semi-fresh morning air, you took a deep breath, mumbling another curse to yourself as you began a quick jog home, trying to avoid any knowing glances as you rounded a corner and shouldered the door to your apartment building open.

Shower, underwear, find Nate, get him to ask Hancock for the caps while you cowered in the background with sunglasses and a baseball cap over a dark hoodie. Fuck.

The shower was cold, obviously, and you counted your blessings for having running water at all, even if it was a bit too irradiated for comfort. You did your best to scrub fast, hands brushing through sweaty, greasy hair, soaping the necessary areas. You very pointedly did not linger on the dried, flaking cum on your stomach, exorcizing it with a washcloth and curses.

You were busy drying your hair with your dirty shirt, because whenever the water lingered too long it left an uncomfortable sheen over your hair and smelled a bit like a bog. A knock sounded at the door, sending ice through your veins, a response equivalent to the roar of a Deathclaw or the clicking of a Mirelurk.

For a moment, you contemplated crawling onto the rusty fire-escape outside your living room window and walking into downtown Boston to let some Super Mutants eat you.

Instead, though, you stepped over to the door, moments quiet as you contemplated what the fuck you were going to say. Last night was a mistake. You're my boss. I haven't had sex in two years and I'm sorry for leading you on, can I please have my panties back?

Another knock startled you out of your thoughts, fast and panicked, followed by the call of your name from a voice that definitely did not belong to Hancock.

You opened the door to a panting Nate, already back in his suit and armor, gun tossed over his shoulder.

"Nate?"

"Hey! Have fun last night?"

You flushed, even though his expression was nothing but kind; curious and happy for you, like a good friend should be.

"Uh. What's with the get up?" You deflected, which Nate took in stride.

"Distress call from the Minutemen, they asked me to head out west to Graygarden."

"The... farm run by robots?"

"Oh, that's what it is?"

"Wh- Never mind. What are you doing there?"

"Something about the water supply and Super Mutants. I'm leaving in a few minutes"

"Okay, that's fine, I'll drag someone else with me to Diamond City, no stress."

"No, I want you to come with me."

You blinked, hand tensing on the door frame, "Nate I'm not a fighter."

"Yes you are," He said, looking so genuinely confused it made your heart seize a bit, "We fought together. At Anchorage. Did you forget?"

"No, I didn't–" You swallowed. 

After returning home, witnessing massacre after massacre, you'd sworn to yourself you wouldn't get involved in that kind of shit. Even after the world ended, you'd managed to keep that promise. At night, alone in your cold bed, you could still hear the hissing of sentry bots, the creaking of power armor, the whistling of bullets. "I don't do that anymore, Nate."

Nate pulled one of his more serious faces, a rare sight for a man with seemingly endless drive and relentless optimism, even after losing more than you could imagine.

"Look. I understand what you're feeling–" You took a breath to interrupt him, because his blind patriotism had driven him forward when you'd lagged behind, weighed down by the blood on your hands. Nate pushed forward, "I know you don't believe me, but I really do. And nothing helped me heal those wounds like helping people."

"Helping robots." Your voice was flat.

"Who provide food for over a dozen settlements. You'd be doing good."

You bit your lip, casting your eyes over your apartment to avoid the earnest look in Nate's eyes. Sure, you were... content in your life. Goodneighbor was as safe as any settlement could be, you had steady income, some sort of purpose. But you remembered the day Nate had walked into the Third Rail with Nick Valentine on his heels, bleary eyed, vault suit still pristine. The way your heart had sung, the way an aching loneliness you'd felt since coming off the ice had faded.

Was this what the rest of your life would be? Slinging drinks, small talk with coworkers and bar patrons, waiting for the next time Nate would walk in through the doors like some yearning wife waiting for her husband to return from war?

Besides, you weren't going to be able from Hancock in his own fucking town, not for long.

You shut your eyes, feeling the phantom weight of a gun in your hands.

"Fuck. Fine."

The smile on Nate's face was like a kid's at Christmas.

"Great! I'll meet you at the front entrance in..." He glanced down at his pip-boy, "Thirty minutes?"

"Okay."

And he was off, leaving you standing in your doorway, blinking at nothing wondering what the fuck you'd agreed to.

Under your bed there were some loose floorboards you'd been using to store the important things. Your spare caps, your vault suit and pip-boy, your 10mm pistol and your combat shotgun. The former was familiar to you, used centuries ago in a war no one understood anymore. You'd grabbed it on your stumbling way out of the vault, and it was a good thing to or you would have gotten gored by some very territorial mole rats before even making it to a settlement. The shotgun had been stolen, in your trek to downtown Boston, taken off a raider you'd knocked out with a lead pipe. He'd clearly made some adjustments to it, with a hair trigger, less recoil than expected and a scope you'd never needed to use. You'd been meaning to sell it since you'd gotten in, but it had ended up in the floorboards where you'd simply hoped it would stay unless you were strapped for cash.

A knapsack was quickly filled with everything you needed, a change of clothes, a portable water purifier, all the food that would go to waste if you didn't take it with you. You tucked some spare caps into a hidden inside pocket, wrapping them in cloth to keep them from rattling. Your spare 10mm ammo, a few packs of cigarettes, a lighter, a flashlight.

The pistol was strapped into a thigh holster, a gun belt held your shotgun rounds. The shotgun went around your shoulder. They felt heavier than you remembered them being, their weight an oppressive reminder with every step you took out of your apartment. You'd need to let Charlie know you wouldn't be in for a while, and you'd need to stop by KL-E-0's for some spare parts. Easy enough, it was just the matter of avoiding certain tricorn-hat wearing mayors.

You kept your head down as you made your way through the street. You cut a more imposing figure with your armor, with the glint of weapons. People moved out of your way as you jogged towards the Third Rail, sliding in through the door like a mouse darting into its burrow.

You rattled like a tin can chime as you walked down the steps to the bar, announcing your approach before you could be seen, a cat with a bell. You were skittish, pausing at the last step to peek into the lounge, trying to spot a red coat, a familiar smile. Coast was clear.

"That the new uniform, then?" Charlie's voice nearly sent you flying, a squeak leaving you as the Mr. Handy suddenly appeared in view. The three eyes didn't exactly convey emotion well, but you could hear the dry amusement in his tone, maybe a hint of judgement.

"No, I uh–" You shook yourself, loosening the cotton in your brain, "Nate asked me to accompany him on a mission. Shouldn't take more than a week."

"Seven days and I'll file a missing person's report." Dry, dry, dry.

"Right," You breathed, gripping the banister like a life line, "Right. I appreciate the uh– The thought, Charlie. I'll see you around." Saliva filled your mouth, and you had a second to panic about throwing up on the floor as your stomach rolled, before the feeling faded.

Charlie didn't dignify you with a response, going right back to... whatever it was he did when the bar was closed, so you turned around, rattling right back up the stairs. First vacation in two years.

Again, you kept your head down as you walked through the alley towards Kill or Be Killed, pointedly avoiding letting your gaze slip to the Old State House, like the building itself would summon him. Something burned in your chest, not quite shame, but the next thing to it. In another life, you would've considered chewing on a baby aspirin, kept the landline in view, ready to dial 911, if you were having a heart attack. Now, though, you shrugged it off, grabbing your canteen and taking a greedy drink, washing away the cigarette taste that still lingered in your mouth.

KL-E-0 was in her usual place, piercing red eye landing on you.

"Well, don't you look dressed to kill."

You'd wondered, sometimes, if she had been especially programmed to sound so sultry, or if it was just her natural charm.

"Heading out for a while," You dug your bag of caps out of your pocket, placing it on the table as your eyes roamed over the wares available, "Think you could spare some grenades and shotgun shells?"

"Let's get you outfitted, killer."

The word left a sour taste in your mouth that had nothing to do with the cigarettes. You made it through the trade quickly, enough ammo to last you several encounters, enough grenades to get you through a couple rough spots. You left with your pockets lighter, your bandolier, pack and shoulders weighed down.

"Have fun, baby."

"Yeah, thanks, Kleo."

Nate was standing by the entrance, a respectable distance from the Neighborhood Watch, a focused frown on his face as he fiddled with his Pip-boy. He looked up when you approached, frown turning to a bright smile.

"So," you said, shouldering your gun, "Ready to head off?"

"Not quite, we're still waiting on the rest of the party. You know how he is, always fashionably late."

You didn't manage to get out your confused "Who?" Before a familiar hand was clapping Nate on the shoulder, saying, "So! Ready to get this show on the road?"

Fuck.

Notes: This is so insanely self indulgent it’s crazy, but I do hope you enjoyed at least a little <3

[amurih]

Fuck it ima put it out anyway.

COTL AU where instead of staying in the cult Narinder leaves and builds his own little plot of land that becomes a rare occurrence you find while crusading through the different biomes post game.

Like it starts off when the lamb like spares Narinder and he’s like sent to the cult. And is in such a state of shock and bewilderment of what just happened that he doesn’t really know that the lamb is setting up their wedding until he’s at the alter. And he just SNAPS. To trade one prison for another? And to be stuck with the same being that not only took your crown, but your title as the god of death as your jailer? No thank you. Proceeds to walk out while the service is still going.

(I’m not the kind of person to think that he would be murdering or plotting to kill the lamb at every turn or possibly. No I would think that Narinder is smart enough to realize that he cannot fight the lamb in the condition that he is reduced to.)

Anyway, I want Narinder to experience life post-godhood by himself outside the cult. Maybe progressing over time you see how his plot of land develops into a pretty nice home for himself complete with a garden and an actual building/house. Not a hut, but an actual house.

All the while the lamb is going through it. It’s normal game play like one would post Narinder fight. Lore, upgrades, reviving the bishops, mystic seller, etc. All the while experiencing the highs and lows of ascension. I think the lamb would ask the other bishops once they get indoctrinated of how they went through their ascensions went. Only they would tell them that each went through theirs differently, so in the end it wasn’t really helpful.

So going through a process that you have no idea how to get through and the only person who does has fuck off into the land and hates your guts. Really fucking sucks man. So they try to “catch” Narinder while out crusading. Only they don’t find him physically, they find his place of residence while he is away.

I thought of a way to incorporate the quests that Narinder gives you when he is usually established in the cult. Could still be used: like there’s a book left on a table where you could peak in and see what’s going on with the cat that is currently away from his house.

“ I should head to Darkwoods and see if I can find more materials to build that fence and make more paper. Moving materials from one abandon home stead to this place has been challenging enough. My arms hurt after years of being bound to one position for so long...I wonder if camellias still bloom there now that Leshy is gone? If not I’ll have to develop a new alternative for this persistent strain and sharp pains I keep having. Got to get these walls up before it starts raining.”

“Bah! There’s not enough food at the last abandoned settlement let alone seeds. It’ll take long of a walk all the way to smuggler’s cove just to see if that sea louse got any thing. And it hasn’t been that long since the depletion of fish at pilgrim’s passage. I would have just stuck to what vegetables and berries I’ve got growing, but some animal or heratic keeps getting into my garden and stealing my food!when I find the person or thing that is stealing from me I’m going to make them into my fertilizer. In the meantime I should look into Anura and see if those foul mushrooms are still there. If I remember they are just as foul as Hecket when she would screamed about being hungry during dinner…Those should hold me over until I get this unwanted pest under control.”

“The wind and rain coming in through the holes on the side of the house that I use to see if any heretics come to kill me, has gotten too much. I’m tired of having to clean up the puddles of water that enters the home. And the curtains don’t do much in terms of trying to block both of these elements.That stupid squid Kallamar doesn’t need his crystals now that he’s gone. It didn’t help him when trying to hide from me. I’ll go to Anchordeep tomorrow and get some to make crystal windows. They sure would make it more beautiful than their temple…”

“Finally the loom is ready. It’s been a such a long time since I had decent robes. It’s easy to find cotton, but what I really want is a nice, soft, silk robe. One that doesn’t rub against these scars preferably. I miss the old one Shamura they made with their silk. But, that one got destroyed in the fight with that damn vessel. Maybe there is some in Silk Cradle. ”

(I’ll come back to this when I flesh it out more via work time daydreams)

[lafaiette]

I finally found Pen's Chinese romance lines :')

(You can find more comparisons here and here by the way)

First, something sweet to start with: Jasmine calls Pen, Burgess, and Miguel "uncle"! (叔叔)

Jasmine to Andy: Uncle Peng Hu thinks he's the most beautiful man in the world. We can secretly put a mirror in his room, so he'll look at it all day long and we can sneak out to play!

And now, I'll start with the Romance Quest - I included only the Chinese version of the dialogue happening after giving him the Heart Knot, because the post is already pretty long!

Chinese: Well... little weakling, you gave me this Heart Knot. I thought about it seriously... You have always been nice to me. You often praise me, give me gifts, and help me run errands everywhere. Maybe I have really found the one, the most special person to me. Someone who loves me as much as I love myself! Oh, this is so surprising to me... Little weakling, before we go further with our current relationship, I have to speak with you. I have to make sure you are sincere to me! Everyone knows that I am a golden bachelor. If you are with me just to show off and make yourself look good at some workshop awards ceremony, I will not allow it! What I want is true love... And I still have to understand if my fascination with you is not just for your body, but also for your personality… Yes, that's right. All this time, I called you "little weakling", not because of contempt for your figure, but because I couldn't take my eyes away when I saw your small body without muscles. It’s like seeing an uncultivated land with unlimited room for exercise. It’s so charming! There is only one way to test whether there is love between us... and that is - Fighting! An adrenaline-filled battle! Drenched in sweat, bloody, and bare-knuckled! Yes, the fastest way to get to know someone is to fight with them! Builder: 1) Then let’s go! -> Pen: Good! Let's meet tomorrow at the gate of the Paradise Lost ruins. Let's fight side by side to destroy those robots from the corrupt era and beat fierce drumbeats on their remains with our fists! I’ll go first! Remember to wear protective gear and be prepared. All for romance! Builder: 2) After falling in love... shouldn't you go on a date? -> Pen: Haha, that's what ordinary people do. I don't care for those old-fashioned ways of falling in love. Only when fighting can I feel truly alive! Builder: 3) But we have already fought many times... -> Pen: Many times?! It's never enough! I'm a fighting expert! For me, this is true love, nothing else but pure fighting and strong love!

Meeting Pen in front of Paradise Lost: Here you are, little weakling! I've been waiting for you for a long time, and I'm a little bored... Let's not waste time, let's hurry in and kill everyone! Get ready, little weakling! Let's show those robots real fighting skills and send them all the way back to their corrupt era! Not bad, little weakling, you have been exercising recently! Robot, take my blow! Punch! Fighting with you... makes my heart surge! That move is awesome, little weakling! Don't let them escape, leave no one behind! Haha, fighting with you is more exciting than I imagined! The thought of being able to "seal love" with you and fight these robots to confirm our relationship... my heart is beating fast! Let the battle become more intense! Come on, let's go in! Awesome, little weakling! It's been a blast all the way. Now there's only one last step left to make our date today even more perfect - Yes! That's it! A powerful elite monster! Come on, little weakling! Show your fists and give the big robot in this corrupt era the coolest blow! Haha... so refreshing... This feels so right... Little weakling, what do you think? I’m having too much fun today... ha, wait! I got it, the most important step is missing!

English: I'm afraid this moment cannot last forever… We must return to the hustle and bustle of city life… But let us always remember this place. Our lovers cocoon where, for one brief evening, the world was ours... Outside Paradise Lost: Goodbye, my love! Expect to see me again soon… I'll swing by your place later for a major make-out sesh!

Chinese: I really want to stay with you for a while longer! But I have to go protect Sandrock. Let us remember this moment and this feeling. No one can take away the energy of this love... … Goodbye then, my dear! I'm looking forward to seeing you next time …… I will definitely have a more exciting date with you!

English: You fell from a cliff and survived? Did someone help you? Or did you simply claw your way back to safety, and crawl to my feet just to see me again. You truly do love me, don't you? Chinese: You fell off a cliff and came back alive? Could it be that someone more powerful than me saved you? Alas, I missed an opportunity to protect you.

English: Knight, Protector, Enforcer, Big Daddy Love Sponge… I go by many names. Chinese: Besides, Knight is just a title. Guardian, Big Brother, Heart-throb... these are my titles!

English: Alright… fine. You want the truth? You can't handle the truth! But… here it is anyway: Miguel totally brainwashed me! Yeah, that's it… He told me, uh, Duvos rules and stuff, and… I was in a bind! I have multiple obligations! Do you have any idea how expensive the holidays are when you're shopping for twelve separate lovers who all think they're my one and only? Plus with Sandrock failing… I had no choice, I needed the money from his scheme… He said if I protect him, he'd give me a portion of his dirty money. Now that I think about it… say, do you think he could be some kind of high level Duvos operative? Certainly seems like it. Not trying to do your job for you or anything, though…

Chinese: Okay, okay, let me tell you... [Player's Name], your pal Peng Hu didn't know anything before he met that bad guy Miguel! Just eat, sleep, and protect the town every day. Until one day he told me that he was working for Duvos, trying to win me over, and saying a lot of things that made sense... I was short of money at that time, so I fell into his trap. Anyway, I am also a part-time worker. What is the difference between working for Sandrock and working for Duvos? Besides, with Sandrock being the way it is, I was saving myself. He asked me to protect him. As long as I did it, I would get a share of the embezzlement money. So I got involved in all this. Could that guy Miguel be a senior member of Duvos? An agent? Maybe he really is! Of course, that's the job of your militia group [Civil Corps], so I won’t say more.

English:

Builder: "How could you do this to me?" Pen: "What can I say, sometimes country trumps love…" Builder: "Please stop…" Pen: "I'm sorry, gotta fulfill my KPI, you understand!" Builder: "I still love you." Pen: "I know." Builder: "You were ugly anyway!" Pen: "Ooph, that might have hurt a mere mortal, but I know you know deep down in your heart that it's not true!" "Hm… to finally face you as my true self… it's invigorating! Now quit playing hard to get, Skinny, and take your place at my side!"

Chinese:

Builder: "How could you do this to me?" Pen: "What else can I do? The Empire is more important than love." Builder: "Don't do this to me..." Pen: "Sorry, [Player's Name]. This is my job, and I have to earn enough performance [points]!" Builder: "I never stopped loving you." Pen: "I know." Builder: "I stopped loving you a long time ago anyway!" Pen: "Haha, that doesn't hurt me. ["That sentence has no deadly effect on me."] Don't deceive your heart, you must still love me deep inside!" "Today I can finally face you with my true identity, and I'm actually very happy. Who doesn't want to be honest with his lover, little weakling? Why don't you come to my side, eh?"

English: I heard from someone in the capital that they experimented on him to make him stronger. Chinese: I heard that someone in the capital specifically conducted experiments on him, that's why he is so strong.

English: Ha! Know one thing about me, Skinny: any declarations I made on behalf of us was true. I make no mistakes, neither in war nor in love. You want proof? Well, it's not like I go around giving everyone nicknames! No… you were special in that regard. Perhaps it was always our destiny to be together… But I'm afraid that thread of fate has been cut short. I have chosen my country over love. Such is the duty of a Duvos Knight. …That's what you wanted to hear, isn't it…?

Chinese: Haha, one good thing about me is that I put real feelings into every relationship. I don't like to give people random nicknames either! Perhaps, ever since the moment I called you little weakling [Skinny Arms], you were destined to be my one and only love. It's just that we're different, and I had to sacrifice our relationship for the greater good of my country. Are you satisfied with this answer?

English: "Goodbye, [Player's Name]. It was... fun. Chinese: Farewell, [Player's Name]. This time it's for real. You're free.

The Protector's description, called "Guardian of Love" in Chinese:

A very delicate bracelet that protects the wearer's wrist. Wearing it gives the wearer a feeling of being emotionally confined. Perhaps this feeling is similar to what Peng Hu often said, "Marriage is a boring bondage".

Pen's letter in Chinese:

Dear [name], I've had a little more time to think lately in this so-called Atara Maximum Prison, and I'm more than a little sorry that I couldn't bring you along to accompany me. Well, it's my fault. Anyway, you are still the most beloved lover I have ever been with, and one of the few that I continue to miss even after a breakup. So, I'm going to forgive you. Yeah - I forgive you.I don't think there's a chance we'll ever be together again. You're just doing what you're supposed to do in your position, so there's nothing to complain about. I should have tried my best to recruit you from the beginning, and it would have been the best way to keep you with me. Of course I don't blame you, you're indeed excellent. I also left you a final challenge. In some ruins, there are a few of my most valuable things, and if you can get them, they're yours. It should be easy to get there, using the tricks I've taught you. My dear little weakling, this is the last time I'll call you that, I believe in your abilities. Remember, don't slack off on your training. We won't meet again. (but 后会无期 can also mean "meeting at an unspecified/unclear date")

WELP, what more can I say :'D

[queenjunothegreat]

Once again, Tumblr has failed me link-wise and I was to embarrassed by my last fic banner to try that again, so we're just gonna go with an Ao3 screenshot, okay? Okay. Anywho, I'm here with the final MoA rewrite before Strings of Fate starts posting tomorrow! Why am I posting this so last minute? Well, yesterday my cat gave me a concussion and today I spent four hours hunting down and resuscitating a Chromebook I had left for dead because my laptop refused to play nice. That's why. Regardless, this needed tonhappen because I needed A) more Piper POV B) more Piper & Jason friendship and C) more Drama Queen Jason. I am pleased with the outcome

Regardless, I hope you enjoy this entry to Scenes of Athena: PIPER Holds on Tight

They managed to make it up to the top deck with everyone else before they were attacked again, Jason stumbling so hard Piper had to catch him before he could fall. She whipped her head around and tried not to gag. “What the fuck is that?” “Shrimpzilla!” Percy shouted back. It wasn’t exactly a helpful description, but it wasn’t exactly wrong, either. The monster currently attacking the ship was a gigantic shrimp… cockroach… thing. It had an almost offensively bright pink shell made up of dozens of different segments that all slotted together and slid over one another like some kind of weird puzzle box, and there were hundreds of creepy bug-like legs on either side of its body that all twitched and undulated in one hypnotic mass. It had gigantic, bulbous eyes that held no light or intelligence, and a gigantic gaping maw that held no teeth. Looking at it made Piper feel like she was going to be sick. *** The Argo II Crew fights their pinkest foe.

Let it be known that Piper did not approve of Jason and Percy’s stunt in Charleston. Was it cool as hell to see the son of Poseidon and the son of Jupiter team up to create the pop-up storm of the century? Well, yes. Did it do a fantastic job at getting them the hell away from the Roman legion who wanted nothing more than to sink their ship? Also yes. However, it also exhausted Jason to the point of being delirious, and considering how many times Piper had seen her friend passed out and-slash-or literally dead (sure, that last one may have only happened the one time, but that was one time too many, in her opinion) she didn’t particularly care for anything that made Jason teeter on that edge of consciousness.

That being said, pouty, dramatic Jason was very cute.

“Can I have more marshmallow juice?” Jason asked plaintively, his eyes crossing slightly as he tried to focus on Piper sitting next to his bed.

“Do you mean Nectar?” she clarified. “Because, if so, the answer is no. Ignoring the fact that you’ve had enough for today, you’ve managed to get yourself knocked out twice over the course of, like, three days. I’m pretty sure you’ve actually used up your fair share for the rest of the quest, my guy.”

Jason puffed out his cheeks in a pout. “Where’s Leo? He’d give me marshmallow juice.”

“He’s up deck with Frank and Hazel keeping watch,” Piper told him. “And, no, he wouldn’t give you any Nectar, either, because he doesn’t want you boiling your insides any more than I do.”

Jason heaved an incredibly put-upon sigh. “Why is he always with Frank and Hazel? It’s not fair. He was with Frank at the fort and I couldn’t hold his hand even once. Does he not like us anymore?”

“That’s definitely it,” she said wryly. “Let’s just ignore the fact that he’s had literally one mission with Hazel that you weren’t a part of.”

“I was injured for that one, too,” Jason pointed out. “He’s abandoning me when I’m sick and dying, Piper. He doesn't love me anymore.”

Piper thumped him on the end of his nose so hard he actually let out a yelp of pain and clapped both hands over his face defensively. “Don’t even joke like that, you lunatic. And if you don’t want Leo hanging out with other people while you’re injured, maybe stop getting injured.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

“I literally can, though.”

Jason opened his mouth to say something, but at that exact moment, the ship lurched hard to the left, like it had been rammed. Piper was thrown out of her chair to the floor, but she quickly scrambled back to her feet and locked eyes with Jason. His gaze went all sharp and focused, lacking any and all of the dramatic whininess from before, and he gave her one decisive nod. She took in a deep breath and when she spoke, her voice was oozing with sticky-sweet Charmspeak. “Jason, get up. You’re okay. You’re going to come up on the top deck with me, and we’re going to figure out what’s going on, got it?”

Jason nodded again, and he immediately stood up from the bed, swaying slightly in place but no longer on the brink of passing out like he’d been before. Piper didn’t particularly like using her Charmspeak like that, but she understood that sometimes her personal qualms had to take a backseat. “Let’s go,” Jason ordered, withdrawing his coin from his pocket and racing out the cabin door Piper hot on his heels. 

They managed to make it up to the top deck with everyone else before they were attacked again, Jason stumbling so hard Piper had to catch him before he could fall. She whipped her head around and tried not to gag. “What the fuck is that?”

“Shrimpzilla!” Percy shouted back. It wasn’t exactly a helpful description, but it wasn’t exactly wrong, either. The monster currently attacking the ship was a gigantic shrimp… cockroach… thing. It had an almost offensively bright pink shell made up of dozens of different segments that all slotted together and slid over one another like some kind of weird puzzle box, and there were hundreds of creepy bug-like legs on either side of its body that all twitched and undulated in one hypnotic mass. It had gigantic, bulbous eyes that held no light or intelligence, and a gigantic gaping maw that held no teeth. Looking at it made Piper feel like she was going to be sick.

“Percy, can you talk to this thing?” Annabeth shouted, gripping onto the nearest rail to keep upright.

“If I can, it doesn’t have anything nice to say!”

“Jason, can you zap it?” Piper suggested desperately. He didn’t answer, but she knew it was a stupid question from the moment she opened her mouth. Jason had a hard enough time summoning his father’s lightning on a good day, much less when he was one stiff breeze from involuntary naptime. 

“How did this thing even sneak up on us?” Hedge barked.

“It’s my fault!” Leo answered. He was desperately trying to hold the ship’s wheel steady with one hand and waving a JoyCon around in the other, but Piper knew from his tone that if his hands weren’t busy, he’d have been furiously yanking at his hair. “I forgot to switch to sonar! God, I’m so stupid!”

Before Piper could respond, one of Shrimpzilla’s tendrils wrapped around her waist and she was yanked down across the deck towards the monster with a terrified shriek. “Do something!” 

She managed to unsheath Katoptris and started slashing at anything she could reach, but for as many tentacles as she managed to saw through, another four took their place. Frank, Annabeth, and Jason were at her side in seconds, but it was actually Percy who was the one who managed to free her, hacking at the monster like a whirlwind. “On your feet, McLean!” he shouted at her, yanking her upright as soon as she wasn’t trapped. 

Piper nodded at him and she and Jason immediately fell into a fighting stance, back to back. They weren’t exactly a fighting duo to end all duos (they certainly didn’t hold a candle to Percy and Annabeth, who fought together like it was as simple as breathing) but they’d teamed up for Capture the Flag enough times that they could reasonably cover each other’s blind spots. Jason kept the monster decently at bay with the reach on his spear, and any little feelers that made it past his dome of defense were welcome guests at Piper’s Piercing Pagoda. 

Still for all their efforts, she knew they couldn’t hold the monster off forever. The Argo II would either have to escape or Leo would have to show up with a few of those exploding watermelon cannonballs that he’d mentioned once or twice. As if responding to her thoughts, Leo suddenly ran by, Hazel hot on his heels, both of them carrying some glass vials that glowed bright green with magic. Leo shouted something she couldn’t understand, but she didn’t have time to question it because a giant tentacle, far bigger than any she and Jason had been stabbing at, shot on deck, knocked Frank overboard, and grabbed Leo and Hazel both, lifting them high in the air. 

“Hazel!” Percy shouted, his voice pitching sharply as he stared up at them in horror for a split second before he was knocked clear across the deck.

Piper was frozen completely still in shock and terror, breath rattling in her chest as she was helpless to do anything but watch and pray. Then there was a bright white-hot flash from up where Leo and Hazel were, and they were free-falling directly into Shrimpzilla’s mouth, before an explosion, the magical bright green of Greek Fire, engulfed all three of them.

Piper could feel callous-rough hands cupping her cheeks, and she could distantly hear a voice calling for her. 

“LEO!” Piper screamed at the top of her voice. She felt something tug at the back of her throat like when she was using Charmspeak, only this felt like it was being ripped from her very soul with a rusty fishing hook. Her eyes swam with tears for only a second before her vision filled with black.

“Piper? Piper, can you hear me?”

She groaned and blinked, her vision slowly swimming into blurry focus. Part of her expected to see wide brown eyes under a pair of bushy, furrowed brows. Instead, she got bright, concerned blue over a tight frown. She squinted at him. “Jason?”

Jason’s cheeks puffed out around a relieved sigh. “Piper. You okay?”

“Yeah, I just–” She cut herself off with a strangled gasp and sat straight up. “Leo!”

“What happened, McLean?” Percy, who she now noticed was kneeling at her side, demanded.

Her throat felt like it wanted to swell shut, but she just swallowed thickly. “I– I saw them. Leo and Hazel. They were falling into the monster’s mouth, but there was an explosion. I didn’t see what happened after that.”

Percy’s face was pale. “What about Frank? Did you see him?” 

Percy grit his teeth, then forced himself to his feet. He locked eyes with her, his jaw set. “I’ll find them.” Then he leapt over the railing into the ocean without a second thought.

She nodded her head and sucked in a deep breath. “He was knocked overboard when that thing grabbed Leo and Hazel.”

Jason took in a deliberately even breath. “So, Leo’s…” 

Piper hiccupped and buried her face in her hands. “I don’t know!” She was terrified. The image of Leo lying dead at the bottom of the ocean flashed in her mind, and she squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to let herself cry. Her chest felt raw and hollow, like someone had scooped out her heart and lungs with a plastic spoon and left the wound completely raw and exposed.

Fortunately, Annabeth cut in before she went all the way over the edge. She gripped Piper’s shoulder hard, and when Piper met her gaze it was strong and steady. “Hey, listen to me. We’re going to get them back. Leo’s a fire guy, right? I’m sure he’s fine. He wouldn’t have blown himself up if he thought it was actually going to kill him and Hazel.”

“But-But it was Greek Fire,” Piper stammered. “No one can survive that.”

“But it’s Leo,” Annabeth countered. “If anyone could, it would be him.” She squeezed Piper’s shoulder, then offered her a hand. “Now, come on. The ship’s in rough shape, and I’m not in the mood to hear Leo bitch about it when he’s back on board and sees the state of things.”

Piper let out a noise that was a half-sniffle, half-laugh, and slapped her cheeks a couple times to focus herself. “You’re right. Let’s clean this mess up.”

Unfortunately for Piper, Leo did a bit too good of a  job designing the ship. She’d originally been the one to suggest making it so the ship could handle fixing things on its own, but she’d mostly meant it as a joke. Leo had roped her into a brainstorming session that she’d wanted no part of, so she’d offered up her seemingly impossible idea when she’d been forced to contribute. Leo, of course, just took it as a challenge, and made it so that Festus and Buford were more than capable of taking care of most of the repairs by themselves. There were a few tweaks with the navigational system that Annabeth wanted to take a look at and Jason had managed to keep himself busy flying around the rigging like Peter Pan and following orders from a side table. Even Hedge had dedicated himself to lovingly polishing the ballista while he cooed sweet nothings at it. At least, that’s what Piper assumed he was doing. 

This did, however, leave Piper with absolutely nothing to do. She’d never really understood a word that came out of Leo and Annabeth’s mouths when they started Nerd Talking at one another about the ship, so she was useless for repairs, but the thought of just sitting around and waiting frayed at her nerves like nothing else. She’d tried searching for Leo, Frank, and Hazel in the reflection of Katoptris, but the knife was infuriatingly unhelpful. Instead of any clues about her missing friends, all she saw was even more awfulness. She saw Reyna sitting in the driver’s seat of a black SUV as they sped up the interstate, escorted by giant eagles. She saw a human-headed bull, a beast like a reverse Minotaur, slowly rising from a river before he tipped his head back and let out a howl that Piper couldn’t hear, but knew was mournful anyway. She saw herself and Jason and Percy all together in a room that looked like a well desperately gasping for air as thick, ink-black water lapped at their throats, threatening to drown them. 

But the one that concerned her the most was one she only caught glimpses of. Jason’s face twisted up in unspeakable heartbreak, desperately reaching for something Piper couldn’t see. Leo’s wide, toothy grin he wore when he knew he was at the end of the line, but didn’t want Piper to worry about him. Her hand holding Leo’s in a white-knuckled grasp as her own blood smeared between them. 

Part of her wanted to fling her knife into the sea where it could never torment her again, but another part wanted to cradle it close to her chest like her most favored child, living forever in the images and scenes that flashed before her. She thought about Helen, hidden away during the Trojan War with only Katoptris and its visions for comfort, and wondered if she’d felt this same mix of resentment and reliance for her treasured blade. She wondered if this was madness, if this was mania. She was scared to find out.

“Any luck?” 

Piper looked up to see Annabeth standing before her. She shook her head with a heavy sigh. “It’s mostly the same as before. I did see the Romans, though. They’re taking I-95 towards Camp Half-Blood.” 

She didn’t mention the vision of her hand in Leo’s or Jason’s grief. She wasn’t sure if she could. 

Annabeth nodded grimly. “At least we’ll be able to give Chiron and the Camp a heads up. That’s the important thing.”

Piper wanted to argue, to scream and shout that the “important thing” was that Leo was lost somewhere at the bottom of the ocean, but at that exact moment, a single, controlled wave crashed down on the deck, leaving Percy kneeling and sucking in deep, heaving pants as he tried to catch his breath, body trembling with exhaustion. He was soaking wet, too, which Piper thought was odd, as she was under the impression that his powers always kept him dry, but she didn’t bother to mention it. He looked up, eyes hollow and desperate. “I can’t find them.”

Annabeth sucked in a sharp breath, but kept her cool. She carefully helped him to his feet, slinging his arm over his shoulder. “Well, you can’t keep looking like this. You’ve been down there for hours, and at this point I’m almost worried you’ll drown.” Percy visibly flinched at her words, and her frown deepened. “Come on. Let’s get you in bed. We’ll call Chiron and let him know what’s going on.”

“But Frank and Hazel–”

“You can keep looking once you’ve had some rest, Seaweed Brain,” she cut in. “Now, come on.”

Piper watched helplessly as Annabeth dragged her boyfriend below deck, feeling more useless than ever. There was nothing anyone could do. Her best friend was missing, possibly dead, and all she could do was twiddle her thumbs and wait while one of the actually valuable members of the crew was able to go out and look for him. 

Jason fell out of the sky at her side, then, his landing far heavier than normal. “Come on,” he said quietly. “Coach Hedge said he’d keep watch. He wants us to rest.”

Piper nodded numbly and allowed Jason to lead her down to his cabin, her hand clutched in his like a lifeline. Jason’s cabin was always clean and cozy, and Piper knew it had glow in the dark stars on the ceiling because she’d put them there herself. She remembered sneaking in there one night at Camp with Leo because Jason had said he’d never heard of such a thing before in his life, and they spent hours painstakingly putting up each and every star. She blinked up at them, and her voice was thick when she said, “Those are real constellations, you know.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “It was a pain in the ass getting them all up there in the right spots, so you’d better appreciate them.”

Jason sat down on the bed, and Piper joined him. “I do,” he said. “I appreciate them a lot. I appreciated them before I knew how much effort you put into it.”

Piper sniffled hard and thumped her head down on Jason’s shoulder. “Good.”

“I don’t know if I ever properly thanked you for that,” he hummed. “I have the feeling it’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever done for me. So, thank you. It means a lot.”

She shrugged. “You deserve good things, too, Jace.”

Jason sucked in a sharp breath at her side, and clenched his fists in his lap. “Yeah. You, too, Pipes.”

Piper gave up all pretenses then and flung her arms around Jason, squeezing him in the tightest hug she could stand. “I’m scared.”

Jason’s fists clenched in the back of her shirt. “Yeah. Me, too.”

Piper was pretty sure no one slept that night. She and Jason certainly hadn’t, and based on the dark circles under Annabeth and Percy’s eyes when they’d met for breakfast that morning, they hadn’t either.

They didn’t say anything else, they just held each other tight for the rest of the night.

“What did Chiron say?” Jason asked hollowly, pushing some scrambled eggs around on his plate and looking like he was going to be sick. 

Annabeth grimaced and drug a hand down her face. “It’s not all bad news back at home. Tyson and Ella both made it back safe with Mrs. O’Leary. Apparently Rachel and Ella have been holed up together comparing prophecies since.”

“Tyson’s a general in the Cyclopes Army, so he can call on them for aid, if it comes to that,” Percy added. His face was dull and expressionless, devoid of even that spark of anger Piper had come to know so well. Piper saw Annabeth squeeze his hand under the table.

“Did he have any advice on what we should do?” Piper asked, trying to grasp for hope she didn’t feel.

Annabeth shook her head. “We’re on a quest. The only advice he can give us is to finish the job and come back safely.”

Piper scowled down at the table, and she was glad that Annabeth and Percy had made the call without her as she likely would have had some choice words for the kindly centaur if he’d said that to her face. The group fell silent and Piper wondered if now was the time for her to pray to her mom. She wasn’t really all that comfortable praying yet. After a life of having her pleas ignored by a parent she could see, she had a hard time calling on the one who took fifteen years to even show up. Besides, what good was the goddess of love and beauty in a search and rescue mission anyway?

Still, Venus’s words to her in Charleston rang in her head. You’ll need your friends more than you know, my love. Hold tight to them, but know they can’t be lost so easily. Piper squeezed her eyes shut and prayed, all but begging for a miracle and desperately hoping for her love to hold tight.

“I’m going to go out looking for them again,” Percy said decisively, standing up with a loud clatter. His eyes were hard and stormy and full of that stubborn determination Annabeth had spoken of so often.

Annabeth stood as well, her brows furrowing. “You can’t,” she snapped. “You’re in no shape for it. If you go down there, I’m not convinced you’ll come back up.”

“Watch me,” Percy spat back. “I’m not leaving Frank and Hazel down there.”

Piper’s eyes widened as her gaze flickered between Percy and Annabeth. She was practically suffocating on the anger and tension between them, and she realized suddenly that this was not the first time they’d had this argument. She couldn’t help but wonder how often Annabeth had insisted on being the one to reign in Percy’s recklessness and how many times she’d been forced to accept that she couldn’t. The air in the mess hall sparked and Piper held her breath.

Then Festus spoke. 

“Get up deck!” Piper shouted, instinctively translating the dragon’s Morse code message. She scrambled for the door, not waiting to see if anyone was following, though she did hear them clamber after her. She flung herself at the railing, eyes wide and heart thumping in her throat. There, just where Festus had reported it would be, the water was frothing and bubbling like a cauldron, and a bright pink light was rapidly approaching the surface.

“Leo!” she shrieked in delight the moment she saw that mop of carefully groomed curls. Without a second thought, she dove over the railing into the ocean and started swimming. The instant she was close enough, she wrapped Leo up in her arms like she never planned to let him go and kissed him on the cheek.

He laughed brightly and hugged her back, pulling away just enough to waggle his eyebrows and give her a cheeky grin. “Miss me much?” She laughed with him for a moment, overwhelmed with joy.

Then she was suddenly filled with rage as she remembered the pain and worry she’d endured over the past twelve hours, and she dunked his head under the water. “I’m gonna kill you!”

Leo’s head broke the surface, and he spluttered out a gasp, furiously kicking away from her. “God! Pipes! What the fuck is your problem?”

“That’s what I’m asking you!” she shouted back, swimming after him. Leo was doing his best to swim away and escape her indignant wrath, but it was clearly a losing battle. Unfortunately for him, he hadn’t spent his formative years surfing on the California coast, so she was much faster than him. She dove at him, ready for another attempt at drowning him, but he was snatched out of the water just before she could get her hands on him. She scowled up at Jason, who was hovering over her, Leo clinging to one of his arms and curled up in a ball to keep his feet out of Piper’s reach. “Give him back!”

“You can have him back when you have access to less than three inches of water,” Jason said unreasonably.

“Do not let her near me, Superman!” Leo squawked. “She’s insane!”

Jason ignored him, and dipped down enough so that he could grab Piper out of the water, too. She slugged Leo on the arm and scowled. “I hate you.”

“Back at you, Beauty Queen.”

Once they were back on deck, Jason quickly blow-dried Piper and Leo while Percy fussed over Frank and Hazel, apparently having jumped in the water right after Piper. Once they were all clean and dried and taken care of, Frank held up a picnic basket. “Does anyone want a brownie?”

“I think we’re all a little more interested in finding out where you guys have been,” Annabeth said, arching her eyebrow. 

“Okay, but do you want a brownie first?” Frank insisted. “They’re really good.”

Jason was the first to break and he shrugged. “Yeah, I’ll take one.”

After that, brownies were handed out to everyone as Frank, Hazel, and Leo shared their experiences in the underwater Camp Half-Blood, which Leo helpfully dubbed Camp Fish-Blood. This made Hazel giggle and Frank roll his eyes, though Piper noticed he didn’t seem quite so miffed as usual. Apparently, there was a whole camp where all the best mer-heroes went to train, run by Chiron’s fishy half-brothers. They explained that Shrimpzilla was actually one of Keto’s babies, proper name Scolopendra, and they were going to send the mighty Bill to right the injustices of the Georgia Aquarium. Hazel even mentioned that Bythos and Aphros had given them a letter of introduction to the Tiber River, which Annabeth was apparently going to use (somehow) and by the end of their story Piper was mystified.

Jason was equally mystified, though not by the same thing.

“That one guy, you said his name was Aphros, right?” Jason said, his tone deathly serious as he stared Frank down like he was in an interrogation room. “He gave you the recipe for these brownies?”

“Um.” Frank traded a somewhat nervous look with Hazel, who looked baffled, then Leo, who just rolled his eyes, then back to Jason. “Yes?”

Jason heaved a deep, relieved sigh as he slumped back in his chair. Piper watched with mild disgust as he grabbed what was probably his fourth brownie and smothered it with peach preserves before shoving half of it in his mouth. “Thank the gods.”

Leo gawked at him like he was regretting ever sitting next to Jason on that school bus back in December. “Dude. When was the last time you ate?”

Jason shrugged casually, brownie bits stuck to his cheeks. “Now.”

Leo wrinkled his nose. “Dude.”

Piper just folded her arms on the table and laughed. 

[ageless-soul-au]

If someone was to start getting into asau, which order would you recommend? (Asking for a friend) (Definitely not for me) (Not at all) (Nope) (Nu uh)

I recently reordered the ao3 series, so it should be accurate now! Counterpart, Confidential, and Altars are the only ones you need to read for the main au (in that order) (and even then you could probably skip Counterpart but it's a short read so it's up to you. The series doesn't really start until Con). If you want to read the nsfw (P&C), some of it relies on plot things and some of it doesn't. It's different per chapter since Peaches & Cream is a catch-all.

If you wanna read the spinoff stuff, we have a separate au series for that! It's also linked in the pinned post. Faction is its own thing which receives semi regular updates, and the Lifeblood series is also separate (porn with plot, solely written by me). I need to go back and edit the fic Lifeblood since I wrote that first and then wrote the prequel. I'm kind of working on the third installment but it's slow going.

We're actively updating Altars and Faction, with an Altars chapter lined up for tomorrow (Sunday, Sept 1). Reading the main series is not required to read the spinoffs, though the characterization slightly differs between mainline, Faction, and Lifeblood.

A Condensed Guide to ASAU Fics:

Do you want to read slowburn romance that takes 30+ chapters to resolve? Confidential. Legend and Warriors spend that fic picking up (almost) every hero and having several miscommunications while learning about each other and falling in love. They deal with ✨traumaaaa✨ (and sexuality and gender) with kind of a B plot of the Quest Setup.

In The Stolen Altars, it picks up right where Con left off. With pretty much everyone assembled, it's time to get started on The Quest finally... After almost 300k words... They encounter dungeons and monsters and talk to deities, all while being toyed with by the main antagonist! A few more heroes join the cast! Be forewarned that this fic includes temporary death of major characters. It's tied in with the plot, you'll understand when you get there. This fic has surpassed Con's word count and we still have two more eras to go. It will be followed by a sequel. The main fics will maybe turn out to be a trilogy?????? But if it stretched to a 4th fic I wouldn't be surprised. The timeline on this is years lmao, I can't predict how wordy we'll get.

Faction is a political drama dealing with international relations and war, with a side of romance. It's got all the characters you know and love, but some slightly to the left! General fantasy setting with a bit of Zelda lore mixed in. It'll most likely be completed in one fic! WAOW!!!

The Lifeblood series is vampires and smut. What else do you need to hear? (Real talk tho, The Copper Kettle is higher quality/more cohesive in theme than Lifeblood the fic, gimme a little bit to fix the inconsistencies hxhdbsbsn)

Hope this helps! Happy reading! And don't forget to COMMENT!!!!! (probably with some context bc in some cases it's been years since we wrote this hxhxhsjs)

-Kio

[eirikrjs]

Fuck you been up to lately, Eirikr? How's your health progressing? Any games you've played or series/movies you've watched lately?

Yo!

I've been doing well, thanks for asking!

My medicaid reset after the new year, which means it's covering my therapy again after a 2 month lapse. Americaaaaaaaa

Here's what I've been consuming with my time:

GAMES:

First game I bought for my PS5 Pro. It's been very playable with only one hand, though getting the platinum is going to be out of reach until I can use both hands again. I've loved it, especially the combat, though the mandatory minigames during the main story were irksome. Yes, the original had mandatory minigames too but this game goes too far with their density, especially during Costa Del Sol, which I felt was the game's nadir.

Progress: Post game has been more enjoyable than the main game. Open world suits the combat engine. I've completed every region's data for Chadley. This includes the moogle wrangling. One-handed. Very irritating but I'm proud I could accomplish that.

A sale enticed me, plus I haven't played X in over 20 years. I may not even play X-2, it was the game that broke my unwavering faith in Square(soft) and ultimately led me to try out other JRPG publishers, eventually Atlus with Nocturne (it and X-2 were released in the US within a year of each other).

Progress: Just beat Seymour at Mt. Gagazet. I forgot that this game has some real teeth during certain bossfights. I suppose I'll be setting myself up to once again completely remake Sphere grids and min-max characters like I did circa 2002. I thought I would be annoyed by the game's pacing and the inability to skip cutscenes but the story is still good and I don't think I would have wanted to skip them anyway. I had forgotten so much, especially about Dream Zanarkand.

I haven't been enjoying this one as much as I'd hoped. Part of it I think is being spoiled by the FF Pixel Remasters' boost options to eliminate grinding. DQ3, on the other hand quickly became relentless, so, in lieu of grinding I didn't want to do, I lowered the difficulty to the "Dracky Quest" Easy mode. And it's been strange, since its major conceit is that it won't allow you to die. Any mortal blow still leaves a character with 1 HP; this includes the monster arena, which is the kinda cheese I do enjoy since you get great reward for winning those. Now, I would have preferred some kind of attack/HP rebalancing instead of perma-endure so I felt my equipment/party choices still mattered for something.

Progress: Reached Zoma's castle so I'll probably beat it tomorrow. I've still been having lots of fun rounding up monsters and exploring, so it hasn't been a total wash. For being a Famicom game originally, the scope is pretty staggering. Still, I'm an FF guy at heart.

SHOWS:

An absolute delight from start to finish and probably the best Star Wars production of the Disney era after Andor. I'm legit sad it's over with no Season 2 in sight.

Castlevania: Nocturne season 2

After feeling a bit whelmed by the first season, other than the surprising inclusion of Juste, I felt this one was an overall improvement and an interesting adaptation of series elements without being bogged down by them. Plus it embraces Castlevania's SMT-like side. Fingers crossed for more with this same creative team; they seem to have planted some seeds for a potential future Soma story within this season.

YouTube

I watch a lot of Dan McClellan, a Bible scholar and his companion Data over Dogma podcast.

[wolfsbane-and-nettles]

'Chosen Horizons' Chapter 45.5 - Epithets

[Summary: Bilbo Baggins is a little overwhelmed with newfound responsibility and doesn't quite know how to process it or understand his own feelings. For once, Thorin is the one who has right right words to say...]

[word count: Source: 2,888]

[Tags: Fluff-ish, Established Relationship, Thorin is Bilbo's biggest supporter]

After much discussion, we came to the decision that this part of chapter 46, though good, was not necessary, and kinda detracted from the flow...but damn did I love writing it. So I decided to make it a little bonus chapter I'll post here for anyone who would want to read it. Can be read as a stand alone one-shot, I think...so if you've never read 'Chosen Horizons', but are curious, I think it can be read as it's own little story.

The real chapter 46 will be posted tomorrow on schedule!

Respect was something ingrained in hobbits from the time they were young faunts, 'til the day they took their last breaths. That being said, Bilbo had found his sense of respect waning as his journey to Erebor dragged onward. In the past, primarily in the Shire, Bilbo focused on saving face whenever he could, as was the respectful thing to do. Saving himself and others from embarrassment and humiliation was something understood as proper Hobbiton-hobbit respectability. In Tookburough, where things were more lighthearted and less stiff, the pinnacle of respect was when you helped your elders and strangers.

It was in Bilbo's very bones to do these things. Yet on this maddening quest, Bilbo had stopped feeling obliged to hold back his sharp wit, and chatted and bantered away with the rest of the lot. He didn't feel as if he needed to offer Balin or Oin a hand when they were getting on or off their ponies…seeing as they were just as physically capable as the rest of them.

No, this journey had changed Bilbo in many ways…and all for the better he'd like to think.

As Bilbo stared blankly at the paper on the table, the quill in his hand leaving blots of ink as he let it sit on the paper, unmoving, he contemplated the best way to express this new change in him. As a hobbit, his immediate reaction was to always relate back to nature.

Bilbo was like a butterfly experiencing a metamorphosis…except that wasn't quite right, as a caterpillar was always doomed to create its cocoon and grow their beautiful wings. Was it always Bilbo's destiny to become so…whatever he was now? He knew fate had guided him to where he was…but he was under no obligation to become less of a hobbit in the process.

It truly felt like this new side of him was all his own making.

So if not a butterfly in metamorphosis, then what?

'Like a soul transmogrified…Oh, goodness no. That sounds far too…grotesque.' The hobbit thought to himself as he scribbled and scratched his quill against the paper, feeling comforted by the familiar sensation of writing.

"Is everything alright, Master Baggins?" Called a voice to him, which despite being so near by sounded so far away, like a distant, unfamiliar thought.

'Or, perhaps it isn't as grand as all that. Perhaps I am more akin to stone being 'sculpted'…always changing until the artist deems it perfect. Oh, no I don't like that…what happens when the artist needs to continue making changes? Can you add stone to a sculpture?' He thought to himself, his brow furrowing as he continued contemplating.

"Master Baggins?" The voice called once more, and still, Bilbo stared vacantly at his paper.

'Hmmm…No, comparing a hobbit to stone doesn't suit the situation at all. Which rules out 'a soul continuously tempered'…even if I have taken quite the beating to get here….'

"Bilbo?" Came a softer, rumbling voice in his ear, followed by the gentle and warm touch of a large hand on his forearm.

"Molded! Like clay! You can always add more clay, and even if a pot breaks, you can always find a use for the scraps…plenty of people will take the scraps and makemark art, did you know that?" Bilbo asked Thorin excitedly, turning to the dwarf as he finally acknowledged Thorin and the rest.

It was then that Thorin, Fili, Kili, and Balin, as well as Bard and his son Bane, stared at Bilbo with the most perplexed expressions Bilbo's ever seen on them all at once.

Thorin took a peek at the paper in front of Bilbo, seeing how the ink blots were now smudged on the hobbit's hands . Though the words Bilbo had scratched out didn't seem to make a lick of sense regarding the current topic of discussion.

"Metamorphosis."

"Sculpted."

"Transmogrify."

"Trans…transmogrify? What does that even mean?" Thorin muttered, leaning in closer to Bilbo as he read the word aloud, and Bilbo blushed in embarrassment, aware now that he'd not been paying attention as he should have been.

Fili then leaned over closer to Balin, and began reading the words the advisor had written, trying to make sense of Bilbo's rambling.

"The exchange of coin between the Kingdoms of Erebor and Dale shall be conducted at the rate of one to one. Should any mannish or dwarven party be found to withhold, defraud, or diminish the rightful due of the other based on - by suspicion or otherwise - race, they shall be subject to the King's justice, and will be fined twice the…'molded' value? 'Transmogrified' value? I'm sorry Uncle Bilbo, but I'm not quite following." Fili spoke clearly, his cheeks red as he felt he was simply misunderstanding something, as he (like most) trusted Bilbo's skill with words.

Bilbo's entire face flushed in disbelief at himself. How impertinent! How rude! How…disrespectful! Bilbo looked out at the table, feeling mortified at his behavior.

"Is everything alright, Bilbo?" Thorin asked carefully, concern in his eyes as he worried for Bilbo's health, considering he did just wake from a coma less than a week ago.

"I…Yes, yes. Everything is quite alright…I simply…" Bilbo cleared his throat, feeling the need to stand up and stretch. Having forgotten that he was sitting in a newly reclaimed city of men, Bilbo didn't think twice about trying to slide off his chair. Instead of landing gracefully, as a gentle hobbit would…he didn't take the wooden box beneath him into consideration. It tilted forward, throwing Bilbo off balance as he tried to stop his inevitable tumble.

The box slipped out from under him and he was wedged between it and the table for a moment, which jostled him and caused him to hit his brow to the table, the force of which pushed the chair back, and caused him to become unlocked…allowing Bilbo to land on his rear on the cold, stone ground.

Silence struck the room and all eyes were still on him. Thorin had gotten to his feet to try to help his One up, only for embarrassment and frustration to fuel the hobbit's next actions.

He swatted Thorin's hand away, and glared at him and everyone else as he got to his feet, patting the dust off his jacket, and put his fists on his hips.

"You're all too big! Too big, I say! This chair is too large, and this table too wide, and you are simply too tall, King Bard!" Bilbo growled, wagging his pointer finger at the newly appointed King of Dale as if he were a child being scolded.

"Do you need a smaller chair?" Balin was the first to offer a suggestion.

"Oh! Do you need some food? Hard to feel good during a meeting if you're hungry, aye?" Fili asked next, wanting to help soothe his Uncle's frustrations.

"No, no…no…none of that. I'm sorry. I just…I need some fresh air." Bilbo mumbled to himself as he rubbed his now sore back, and shuffled his way tiredly out of their meeting, hearing Balin call a recess, and telling Ori to write the times down in his journal.

"Amralime…What is on your mind?" Thorin asked, finding Bilbo standing by a small stone wall with his elbows perched atop them, his tired eyes staring out towards the Lonely Mountain.

"I'm alright…" Bilbo sighed, his eyes glued to the mountain, tracing the path he'd taken upward until he could no longer see it…and then closed his eyes as he so vividly remembered crawling through the raven's tunnel…and then facing a dragon.

Killing a dragon.

"I'm…I'm a little…overwhelmed is all. Why…why was I even invited to this meeting, Thorin? I've got nothing to do with the financial comings and goings of men and dwarrow." He pointed out, his eyes open once more, facing Thorin's own bright blue eyes.

"I do believe that the 'Savior of Men and Dwarves' is far more than deserving to sit in on a meeting regarding them…" Thorin smirked, gently covering Bilbo's hand with his own.

"Is that what they're calling me now?" Bilbo grimaced. "I think I prefer 'Dragon Slayer' to that. Somehow it feels less…pretentious." He sighed, though felt relaxed as Thorin pulled Bilbo into a soothing embrace, and the small chuckle that Thorin gave sounded like the purring of a cat with his ear pressed against the dwarf's chest.

"Both names are fitting, I think. Once word gets out of your deeds, you'll have an epithet, I'm positive." Thorin smiled, resting his chin atop Bilbo's golden curls.

Bilbo wrapped his arms around Thorin's waist tiredly, tucking his thumbs into Thorin's belt to keep them from falling to his side as he felt so miserably exhausted, even holding his arms around his Heartsong felt like a burden on his body.

"Bilbo Dragon Slayer?" Bilbo asked, and Thorin nodded. "Oh, but that doesn't quite suit a hobbit though, now does it?" He huffed, and felt the purring-chuckle once more.

"And you think 'Oakenshield' suits a dwarf?" He snorted, and Bilbo couldn't help but let out a chuckle himself.

"I've told you before…I think the name suits you perfectly. Oaks represent strength and bravery, nobility and honor…Thorin, the name is you." Bilbo insisted, nuzzling up into Thorin's neck, enjoying the warmth of the dwarf's skin on his cold, red, wind-kissed nose, and enjoying even more how the sudden chill of his skin made Thorin shiver.

"Yes…I accept that you believe me to be all of those things…just as you yourself did, in fact, slay a dragon." Thorin insisted, and Bilbo let out a playful groan of feigned disdain.

"Yes, but at least your name can be perceived as poetic! 'Dragon Slayer' is far too blunt. Too much to the point. Besides…all things considered, I don't think I need yet another name?"

"Your family name of Baggins honors your ancestry…Your middle of Sessile name honors your Lady. Lorembaron is a name that honors your gifts and abilities…but an epithet is a name that honors you. My cousin Dain has the epithet of 'Iron Foot'…he lost part of his leg in the Battle of Azanulbizar…Though you might think the name is a reminder of what he lost…it was given to him as a way for us to honor who he is."

"He…he's an Iron Foot?" Bilbo asked, raising an eyebrow, not quite following.

"He is selfless. He lost his leg…and in the process saved hundreds. His epithet is a reminder of not only his deeds…but who he is as a person. You think that Oakenshield suits me, because I am everything you listed…I accept that. I would love nothing more than for you to accept the name of Dragon Slayer…" Thorin smiled, one rough hand reaching up to cup Bilbo's chin, drawing his attention.

"And what, pray tell, could 'Dragon Slayer' ever mean if not a person who has slain a dragon?" Bilbo asked, his tone lighthearted as he felt so relaxed by Thorin's gentle voice and embrace as they swayed side by side.

"Someone who faces impossible odds and comes out victorious." Thorin spoke simply, as if it were obvious. "To our people…Iron Foot means selfless, Oakenshield means brave…and to me…Dragon Slayer means…Indomitable. Unbreakable. Unyielding and relentless…Can you accept that as poetic enough? You know I am not as good at words as you are…" Thorin spoke honestly, his smile quickly changing to a look of worry as he wiped away the tears that began falling from Bilbo's eyes.

"Bilbo…I…If my words offend you, I am sorry. I know that I should leave the word-crafting to you…I know…perhaps Ori could do a better job-"

"Stop talking…" Bilbo whispered as he stood on his toes and tilted his face up, pressing his lips to Thorin's to silence him.

It was a simple and chaste kiss, both of their lips chapped from the cold and weather, but it mattered not, as every kiss between them was always exactly what they needed in the moment.

"Is this your way of telling me I didn't choose my words poorly?" Thorin asked, both teasing and genuinely needing to make sure he understood, and Bilbo let out a short laugh, nodding.

"Your words…mean quite a bit. They didn't hurt my feelings in the slightest…Merely overwhelmed me. I don't see myself as anything you just described…but to know you see me as such things…Well, it is quite a nice feeling, I think…to have someone think such nice things about you…" The hobbit blushed, and Thorin nodded, understanding completely.

"Just as it warms my heart to hear you say such kind things about myself…" Thorin agreed. "I'm glad my choice of words was adequate for you…" He smirked, then paused, remembering why they were outside to begin with. "What does 'transmogrify' mean, exactly?" Thorin asked, remembering the odd word Bilbo had jotted down.

"Oh! It…it means for something to be altered in a rather…unusual way. Or…more so for something to be changed in a less than pleasant way. Maybe humorous…more likely grotesque." Bilbo explained simply, not following why Thorin was asking.

"Ah…and….why did you write it down? During a meeting about trade between our kingdoms?" Thorin asked next, and Bilbo blinked away his sudden embarrassment.

"I…well…I was trying to think of a good word to use to describe a transformation of sorts…" He sighed, and saw Thorin nod, urging him to continue. "It has nothing to do with trade, to be honest. Truly, I was just bored and distracted and…I began to realize just how much my hobbit sensibilities have waned. I've become…dare I say it…rather disrespectful." Bilbo explained, his voice straining as he dared utter what he saw himself become.

"In what way, shape, or form, have you become disrespectful? If you say something, anything about ridding the world of Smaug as somehow being the reason, I will be the one telling you to be quiet." Thorin spoke with a deadpan, praying his One didn't actually think that.

"Well…it may be a small part, but truly, I have become a terribly disrespectful hobbit indeed! Thorin…I am more than happy to sit in on any meeting you want me to go to…in any capacity, be it as 'Dragon Slayer' or simply as your friend…your One…" Bilbo blushed, feeling warm whenever he simply spoke the word aloud. "It was my main set of duties back in the Shire. I'd sit in on meetings as a secretary, I've told you this…a-and I also write detailed contracts as one of the heads of the Baggins family. I am perfectly suited for this position, thank you very much." Bilbo explained, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff.

"Then why are you so disrespectful, according to yourself?"

"Because, Thorin! Timeliness is so very important. Showing up on time and punctuality and all that is one of the most crucial ways of being polite and respectful…but even more than that is properly setting times and dates. Setting events and occasions up in such a way that allows others to be punctual…"

Thorin shook his head, searching Bilbo's eyes for an answer he seemed to be missing. "Speak plainly, Riddle Master, for I am very lost."

"Are…are things not moving too fast? Everything feels so sudden…As soon as I came to, everything has just…happened. Suddenly over half of Lake-Town is moving to Dale. Bard is a King, and Kili is married. And now, here we are, in a meeting of two kings…the first in nearly two centuries! I'm sorry, Thorin…it is simply…a lot. A lot very, very quickly. I feel as if I'm racing through everything…very important things. I…I want to just focus on one thing…at my own pace." He confessed to Thorin, and saw understanding in his Heartsong's eyes.

"It is a lot. It is very fast. And I am sorry you feel overwhelmed by it. I cannot tell you we will move slower…nor will we move in a hobbitly-manner. I will tell you, that you are free to focus on whatever this 'one thing' is, and to take it at your own pace. Need I remind you you slayed a dragon? You are allowed to do whatever it is you please. That, and you are my One. If anyone tries to argue with you, I am more than happy to be used as your excuse." Thorin smirked, and Bilbo knew that Thorin would quite like to be used as Bilbo's excuse in any capacity.

With red cheeks, Bilbo nodded dumbly as he took in Thorin's words. "Well…then, I should very much like to focus on that 'one thing' then…" Bilbo muttered under his breath, pulling Thorin back down for another kiss. "Making up for lost time does not count as moving too fast." Bilbo added as he cupped Thorin's cheeks, feeling his beard under his cold palms as he enjoyed the closeness.

"Am I the 'one thing'?" Thorin asked innocently, earning an eye roll from the hobbit, and a groan from Dwalin standing in the distance.

"Time's up ye' love birds. Meeting is back on." He called out to them, his voice filled with a playful annoyance.

"Alright, alright…Bilbo…would you like to sit out of the meeting? I'm sure she-elf…" He paused, and took a deep breath. "I'm sure Tauriel would appreciate your company." Thorin suggested, and grinned at the way Bilbo's eyes shone with gratitude before they parted ways.

[flame-of-tar-valon]

By the way! I keep talking about my ffxiv fic, How to Go Home Again. Here's some info about the series I'm going to make for it:

The series on Ao3 is tentatively called "Balance" because coming up with names is hard.

How to Go Home Again (MSQ Lv 1-17) stars my protagonists Lleidspaer, Nia'a, and Vivimani, plus their comrades/proteges Khadne, Celestinaux, and Laeitia in a secondary role. The entire story is set in three parallel storylines on Limsa, Gridania, and Ul'dah.

Heroism is a Full-Time Job (MSQ Lv 18-50) stars Lleidspaer, Nia'a, and Vivimani again, with the B-team serving as side characters. This fic goes in a very sequential order as opposed to parallel plotlines. It ends at the Ultima Weapon with a timeskip epilogue.

The Prisons We Gravitate Towards (MSQ 2.1-???-3.5) is an absolutely wild fic that deviates SO hard from canon. It bridges the Ultima Weapon fight with the banquet, and then follows Lleidspaer, Nia'a, and Vivimani as they ignore Heavensward entirely and start the setup for Stormblood. It's a lot more low-key and political tension-y than other fics.

And the Fates Laughed at Us (MSQ 3.0-3.3) stars Khadne, Celestinaux, and Laetitia, front and center, for the very first time, as they progress through the ENTIRETY of Heavensward focused on Ishgard, the Dragonsong War, and the Scions. Expect lots of changes!

Forged of Sharper Things Than This (MSQ 4.0-4.5) is Stormblood, starring all six WoLs on roughly equal footing for the first (and possibly only) time. It's split into two or three parallel plotlines.

Retracing Steps We Never Took (MSQ 5.0-5.3) is the story of Shadowbringers from the First, featuring Lleidspaer, Nia'a, and Vivimani. In this fic, Shadowbringers takes a lot more time than in canon, which makes this fic one of the more unique ones.

Forever On the Front Lines (MSQ 4.4-6.0 Lv 83) is everything happening in the Source at the same time as Shadowbringers; it's the Ghimlyt Dark, the 'Meanwhile in Garlemald' stuff, and early Endwalker in this case going all the way up to the Lv 83 Trial. This fic stars Khadne, Celestinaux, and Laetitia.

I'll Be Home Tomorrow (MSQ 5.4-6.0) is the rest of the story of Endwalker, starring Lleidspaer, Nia'a, and Vivimani as the principal protagonists, with the B-team as deuteragonists for much of the plot.

Seconds Adrift on the Wind (No MSQ parallel) is an extended epilogue, starring Khadne, Celestinaux, and Laetitia. I like to think it'll have a happy ending — though that may suffer from the fact that, at the end of the day, it will be my writing, and my epilogue fics have certain... tendencies.

(I do not at present have any intention of continuing the story past the ending of MSQ 6.0. IF I somehow manage to make it that far, I will need a firm stopping point.)

I might also make a fic in the series as a place to put miscellaneous and one-off scenes, maybe including various job quests that don't make sense to merge into the MSQ.

I'm not even sure I WILL make it to the end of Endwalker, truth be told! Or anywhere near it! Right now, all I'm dead set on finishing is How to Go Home Again and Heroism is a Full-Time Job. That alone will likely take a year or two. The big problem that always ambushes me when I want to write things is INSANE levels of Wanting To Write A Goddamn Epic. I read the Wheel of Time series as a kid and now my brain defaults to that in terms of ideal project size.

I'm just making this post because I like the fic titles I came up with. (And I need to come up with a series title that I like half as much...)