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coff33andb00ks · 7 months ago

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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.

#f1 #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen fic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #my writings > mv > rulebreaker

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jenny-in-a-jar · 7 months ago

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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 🥺🥺🥺

#trans #girlslikeus #transfem #transgender #ok to rb #tranzjen pics #trans joy

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celestie0 · 9 months ago

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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)

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weirdsht · 6 months ago

Note

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.

#le asks #trash of the count's family #lout of the count’s family #tcf #lcf #cale henituse #lotcf #totcf #alberu crossman #choi han #cale x reader #cale henituse x reader #tcf x reader #lcf x reader #totcf x reader #lotcf x reader

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hanckocks-dagger · 6 months ago

Text

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

#fallout companions #hancock #hancock fo4 #hancock x reader #hancock x you #john hancock #john hancock x reader #fallout hancock #fo4 hancock #male sole survivor #john hancock x you #fo4 companions #fallout 4 companions #fallout imagines

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eluxcastar · 2 years ago

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What are the Harbingers like while drunk?

── ୨୧：fatui harbingers x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: a night of drinking usually leads to a far more chaotic band of harbingers than usual, a horrible nightmare for everyone else involved considering their behaviour. it is not all terrible however, admittedly.

୨୧﹑genre :: some are a little fluffy it varies though

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, it is chaotic, columbina does touch reader like very publicly how far that goes is ambiguous, obviously consumption of alcohol

୨୧﹑words :: 1.9k

by this I actually mean how many drinks does it take for them to be all over you (optionally their s/o) which will find its answer, this includes every Harbinger because there is no grandpa discrimination in this household 🙏 requests will start getting posted again tomorrow

The youngest Harbinger is alright, but arguably one of the worst when it comes to how drunk he'll get and how quick. If being a massive casual flirt with you already doesn't help (which it does not), then getting a couple drinks in him can only make him worse. As if stealing all of his restraint and boundaries— possibly mistakable for sense of reason— it unlocks a secondary urge that somehow overtakes his need to fight everything that does or does not move. He can take you (not in a fight tho). A few drinks in, and you better take them away from him before he becomes too over-eager and starts on his quest to fight the other Harbingers once more. Usually, it's quite easy to get him to settle if you just tie him to the nearest pole and leave him for a while to get through his fight with a rope first.

Arlecchino is surprisingly good in this respect, though more so because it's hard to tell when she's drunk except for the fact that she speaks differently, more open with her feelings than when she's sober, and unabashedly will speak her mind in the same tone she usually speaks her insults unless it is to you. For some reason, her equally shameless words and advances always comes out something not like a question and a borderline nag to go with her somewhere—to her room, no doubt—down to outright admitting that she wants you. She barely leaves any room for your decline or contemplation when she's following you around all night like a lost, stray dog whimpering at your feet, and it's kind of cute. You won't go with her, though, because you know what she wants, so she'll just have to wait until you get to enjoy yourself a little at the very least. She's still so ridiculously cute asking with a straight face, however, especially once you manage to settle her to the point she falls asleep head on the table out like a light.

Unfortunately too used to drinking over business, Pantalone is tipsy at best as he's no stranger to drinking some ornate expensive wine after a long day of work, though the flush in his cheeks tells you he's at least a little gone. He rests his head on your shoulder without a word most of the time, perhaps purposefully gluing you to your place by his side so that you cannot be stolen away. He says he's not tired whenever you ask, and you don't doubt that somehow. He's got an added boisterous charm to his laugh, but his voice is low, and he stares at you through his lashes as he's coaxing you into drinking with him. Drink some more, loosen up, there's nothing to worry about. Of course, there's always something to worry about with him, never able to just let you be when he's drunk as he's a bit of a pest.

Insisting that you drink two glasses for her single finished one, Signora is far more focused on getting you drunk than herself. She holds drinks to your lips, practically forcing you to down them to get her to get off your back, all with an arm over your shoulders, keeping you from backing away. She's shockingly promiscuous in a way—though not explicitly—this night will just most definitely end with the two of you having drunkenly made out at least twice, and she's got a good amount of glasses of wine under her belt, as well as you stumbling and at your limit needing her help to find your bearings. Her chest is soft, of course you can use her as your pillow all you want, and of course she'll get you home safe.

An interesting case is the mysterious disappearance of Sandrone's stoic exterior, her usual abrasiveness replaced by a giggly and borderline childish self far more interested in finding something funny in everything and bothering you to carry her around, including back to her room— or yours. She's not picky. Only two drinks in, she behaves like she has never heard of subtlety in her life. Often she will question why you keep doing the things you do, especially if that happens to ruin all her fun, like pulling her away from Tartaglia so that she will stop teasing the poor boy, or to get her to stop loudly asking all of the details of the ins and outs of Scaramouche's workings when he's shifting in his seat trying to hide his discomfort behind his own abrasiveness. Eventually, you may have to carry her back to her room, if only to get her to go to bed and try to get all the rest she can before she wakes up the next morning hungover and miserable.

Scaramouche may only be a puppet, but his other functions seem to work just fine…it still surprises you that he manages to get drunk, much less that he starts getting overly emotional when he does and ends up crying over nothing until you manage to cheer him up as he buries his head in your chest. Apparently, he's just very happy to see you, despite you having been there all night, and he doesn't want you to go anywhere despite the fact you never had any intention of doing so yet. It's so strange but not unwelcome, just hard to get used to, though you let him loiter around you and cling a little. Every time you have to go somewhere, he's asking where you're going, and only when you provide a good enough answer does he stare a little before nodding slowly and resting his head on his arms for comfort, waiting for you to come back.

Over time you learned to stop getting Pulcinella drunk as it leads to him telling the same stories of his youth he's convinced beyond a doubt that you've never heard before. His earlier days in the Fatui are practically ingrained in your mind as you have little choice but to grin and bear it, hoping he doesn't notice that you're not really listening. Of course he notices, however, and in his usual exaggerated movements, taps your nose to draw your attention back, threatening to steal it if you don't pay attention. Youngsters these days is his usual grumble, and as always, you must remind him you are not, in fact, a 'youngster'. It is quieter, more intimate storytelling between the two of you, maybe only Pierro at your side interested in hearing all of this though you're pretty sure Pulcinella hasn't even noticed he's there considering he's so fixated on you and where your eyes are, anywhere but him and he's promptly drawing your attention right back.

Capitano holds his liquor so well you're a little worried for his liver, as the worst offence he manages is making a couple of bad jokes. Barely does he seem affected by it, but you wonder if managing to conceal his face well enough has anything to do with it or if he simply hasn't had anything to drink at all in the absence of any desire to take his helmet off just yet. Considering his demeanour has changed slightly, you're willing to bet the former. He is awfully touchy and forward in all of his advances, though his boldness would never overstep too far. He can hear a no and accept it, but by the time that helmet is resting on the table by his side and he's buried his face in his hands, far too drunk to reason with himself to keep it on, he does begin to get far closer than before with every word said just a half inch from your ear in a hushed tone and his arm around you so comfortably you may begin to forget it's even there.

Ever your biggest fan, Columbina wants you to do all sorts of things, not for any discernible reason. She just claims you're quite adorable. She absolutely must see the face you make after a kiss, and when someone touches your face, when you have your hair pulled and how flushed your face is when her hands travel down from your face toward your body. Of course, she will largely refrain from going too far in the presence of others, though she is touchy, almost like dangling off you, and most importantly, she is hopelessly convincing. Regardless of whether you told yourself at the start of the night that you would not hear a word of her requests, it began so slowly and spiralled so quickly that giving her just a little more leeway won't be too bad, right? It'll be fine to allow her to lay he head down on your chest and wrap her arms around you, continuing to speak to others all the while capturing all of your attention, and with how sleepy she sounds, you imagine you have hers as well with what little energy she has to spare still contributing to the conversation.

Dottore is usually such a butch that you initially thought getting him drunk would only make him bitchier, but one drink in and his experience with alcohol is showing. By the second, he claims to not want any more, and god forbid someone tries to convince him a third is a good idea because he will proceed to complain of feeling sick and deflate until he can leave. His second, however…his second has him talking shop, just not the way you thought it might. He's telling you about all these things that—while certainly not completely objectively interesting—have him genuinely smiling even just a little as he passionately explains the many things he has pursued solely based on whims and fixations. For a man who seldom speaks to anyone, drinks get him talking, and with no inclination to stop him, you sit and listen as he tells you about the ways his segments are made and how he went about discovering and acquiring the materials to do so. He wants you to come with him to his lab so he can show you these things, but with very little desire to allow him to accidentally ruin something of his while drunk, you quickly dissuade him from that and decide to take him elsewhere to let him cool off instead.

Conservative in his drinking in the first place, Pierro does not allow himself much freedom to relax in a setting where he has to watch everyone, at least at the start of the night when tensions are still high, and everyone is sensible enough to remember their quarrels with each other. as the night progresses, however, the small sips of his drink become more frequent, and his appearance follows suit, hair a bit dishevelled from the number of times he's touched it, clothing loosened to allow himself more room to breathe and hands often finding their way to you as he speaks, resting on your shoulder or on your thighs, fingers brushing against your cheek or thumb tracing your lips. to be honest you kind of like him like this, less reserved but restrained enough to be fighting his own resolve not to do something that may be too forward. You can tell in the way that resolve and the will to fight against his own wants slips away bit by bit, touches lasting longer, kisses first on your forehead finding their way to your lips and his arm, which had been resting on the table, finally around your waist as you both walk back to whichever of your respective rooms finds you first.

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amurih · 9 months ago

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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)

#cotl #cotl lamb #colt narinder #cotl au #could also include:#narilamb #Death’s Respite #amurih talks #fuck it we ball

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lafaiette · 10 months ago

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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

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ageless-soul-au · 4 months ago

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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

#Pls pls pls pls comment pls we would love you forever #Ask #Info post #ageless soul au #asau faction au #ASAU lifeblood au

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wolfsbane-and-nettles · 1 month ago

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'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.

#bagginshield #bilbo baggins #the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #thilbo #hobbit fanfic #bilbo x thorin #fanfiction #bilbo/thorin #thorin x bilbo #source for the text divider: cafekitsune

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flame-of-tar-valon · 4 days ago

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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...)

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lividria · 6 months ago

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Funny Story: The Thousand-Year Door (Part 2)

Yea, remember the time I made a post about how everyone associates me with this game's Vivian because that's also my name, I'm also trans and my OC persona character looks similar? I have now beaten TTYD and I already wasn't opposed because I liked the character but I used Vivian for literally as much time as possible once I got her so uh

Here's some of the highlights of my playthrough, spoilers obviously

In the chapter 8 Shadow Sirens rematch (I know they're the Three Shadows now but I'm used to the old name, fight me), I had Goombella out to get tattles, tried to switch over to Vivian, and the FUCKING GAME CRASHED? Which I interpreted as Beldam getting so pissed it broke the space-time continuum, thankfully I saved right before and Vivian later dealt the final blow to Beldam to win the fight when I tried again

Shadow Queen kicked my FUCKING ASS HOLY SHIT, it took me 3 tries, I feel like if I were to rematch Prince Mush they would be so much easier than SQ it wouldn't even be funny AND THEY'RE A SUPERBOSS, I WIPED THE FLOOR WITH JUST ABOUT EVERY PRE-CHAPTER 8 BOSS BUT THEN THE FINAL BOSS WRECKED MY ASS LIKE SHE WAS TACO BELL

One of my friends hyped up Bonetail as being even harder when I immediately went to do the Pit after the credits, I JUST beat them without using any items (Though I did eat a couple in the earlier levels of the Pit) and it was so much less intense than what I expected, especially because I got really lucky with bingos and Pretty Lucky (badge) so I was never in any danger

Yes I know about Whacka, yes I know what I have to do to fight them, yes I'm gonna try them, but that's for tomorrow

I was actually trying to get 100% tattles this playthrough but only realized far too late I didn't get the tattles for the scripted Shwwonk Fortress encounters (Not the Golden Fuzzy, though, I got them & their Fuzzy horde) and I don't know if those guys respawn or are anywhere else so uh fucking whoops

I laughed my ass off when the Atomic Boo had it's own battle theme, that was the most unnecessary thing ever

Chapter 3 made me absolutely lose my shit because all I did was do all the Trouble Center side quests before that and I was somehow hilariously overpowered (I actually got a Power Plus from was their name Dazzle or Sparkle? So that's probably why) I destroyed everything and everyone, I knew about the poisoned cake but I didn't know leaving it killed that poor Koopa, I was completely floored by Bowser not having his boss theme (It's used in the Chapter 8 fight don't worry), and laughed for like a half hour straight at Grubba actually just dying at the end of the chapter after confessing to murder, can you actually find him anywhere after that because I never saw him ever again and Jolene said he was out of the picture so I choose to interpret that as Mario just straight up killing the guy

I fucking hate Rawk Hawk, I rematched him a couple times, all of them unintentionally besides for one time I was like 2 points off a level up, he goes down so fast it's so cathartic, I got an e-mail at some point from him that looked like he was saying he's a better fighter now, I'm gonna go beat his ass right now to prove he ain't

I somehow got Vivian into that bucket in the hidden part of Rogueport Harbor, she teleported out before I could screenshot it, I open Tumblr and first thing I see is that one post that's art of bucket Vivian, reality is taunting me I swear

For the several years on Discord I've always made it a thing to exaggerate some personality traits whenever it'd lead to funny jokes, so I have this entire gag persona I'll put on sometimes where I'll act like a narcissistic asshole out of nowhere (which is pretty easy because I'm incredibly easy to anger and thus act like a jerk more than I should), and it's some of the same people I do that with that compare me to TTYD Vivian sometimes, so imagine my reaction when I see the dialogue implying Vivian has a crush on Mario when I always switch out the player character with myself in my head, Vivian has a crush on essentially herself

I never used Zess T. once throughout my entire playthrough so imagine my horror when I check the requirements for 100%ing the game and seeing the recipes are there in the Journal menu, yea fuck no lol, I don't even know if I'll get all the Star Pieces & Shine Sprites but I am definitely not catching up

So uh yeah really good game

#paper mario #paper mario ttyd #paper mario the thousand year door #ttyd #ttyd spoilers #spoilers #paper mario spoilers #i'm not doing every combination

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blarrghe · 9 months ago

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haven't promoted this story in a minute because idk I got tired of tumblr and took a sort of break. Tomorrow I will be posting ch. 14, which is halfway through the story, so it's a great time to pick up...

The Hunter The Snake and the Fox

Rating: M | Category: M/M | Words: 27 081 | Chapters 13/28

Summary:

When Magister Dorian Pavus' expedition meets unexpectedly with a clan of unhappy Dalish elves, First Taren Lavellan may be the unhappiest among them. Unhappier still to be put to the task of helping to see his quest through. This is the tale of how a fortnight in the forests of the Free Marches can change everything.

And here's a long snippet from Ch. 3 for some Drama:

A sliver of light shone briefly in from a crack in the tent, and a leather-clad elf stomped through it. The elf barked something out towards the tent flap, and before Dorian could muster more than a groan, he stomped out again. Dorian blinked a few times after the fading blur of light.

Minutes went by. Possibly hours. Dorian’s head hurt. He tugged on the binds at his wrists, bending them uncomfortably this way and that. It only seemed to tighten them, so he stopped. His head began to clear. More time passed. He attempted to count the minutes. When the elf returned again, Dorian managed a few inquiring calls for attention. Things like, “Where are the others?”, and, “damnit, I’m talking to you!” His calls went ignored.

The elf poked his head back out into the bright daylight beyond the dark tent, and shouted something in grumpy Elvhen. Another elf soon pushed through the flap, they stomped grimly forward together, and then one on either side hoisted Dorian up by the elbows.

Dorian’s legs were half asleep and still bound, painfully tingling with each jostling step as the two elves dragged him forward. He groaned. The elf on his right barked back something he was sure was an insult. His unwilling legs were dragged on.

Dorian did his best to make his case for answers and mercy as they went. “We have no qualms with you," he pleaded, " I know Tevinter hasn’t historically been kind to your people, but really, this expedition wants nothing to do with you, so if you’d simply let us go on our way…”

Sharp grunt.

“You’re making a huge mistake. Kill me, and you’d be inviting a war, do you have any idea who I am?”

Angry Elvish epithet.

“Dorian of house Pavus,” he said proudly, “ Magister Pavus as of recently, I have a fortune, you could be handsomely rewarded and —”

Big knife.

“— and a wife! And children! Please!”

The big knife pressed closer to his throat. There was a bandage there already.

“Alright! So I don’t have children, or a wife, but I am engaged, and —”

Dorian was shoved through a tent flap by the elf holding the knife, who wound up at his back as his second captor pushed his unstable and bound legs down into a kneel.

“Relax, shemlin,” said a low voice.

Thank the Maker, Dorian thought, blinking now at the woven mat he’d been forced upon, its zigzagged pattern slowly coming into view in his still foggy vision. Finally, here was someone who spoke the Trade speech. King's Tongue, they called it in the south. Crude. In Tevinter, the nobility still had its own.

Dorian’s eyes rose from the ground to take in warmly lit canvas walls draped in soft pelts and colourful woven blankets. He knelt near a smouldering fire pit. Smoke was rising up through a narrow hole in the tent’s roof. Through its haze, in a grand and intricately carved wooden seat, sat a man. The man stood, and Dorian watched leather-wrapped feet pace forward, around, circling him. There were more seats, less grand but still intricately carved, all around the fire pit. None sat in them except for one old woman. She sat still and proud, squinting at him through the smoke.

Dorian lifted his gaze all the way up to the face of the man who was just now finishing his pacing examination of him. An elvhen mage stood before Dorian with his staff planted firmly on the ground between them. He was not tall, but stood in towering regalness over Dorian all the same. His posture was straight, his shoulders strongly set and covered with a heavy green cloak woven through with threads of blue and gold. He wore his deep auburn hair in a long, thick braid hung over one shoulder, and he held his carved, spiralling wooden staff in both hands, emanating power.

“You are Master Pavus ,” said the standing elf, speaking down to him.

“Master Pavus was my father,” Dorian replied, flashing the man a winning smile, “as I am evidently your prisoner, it seems only fitting that you simply call me Dorian.”

DAFF tags list: @warpedlegacy @rakshadow @rosella-writes @effelants @bluewren @breninarthur @ar-lath-ma-cully @dreadfutures @ir0n-angel @inquisimer @crackinglamb @theluckywizard @nirikeehan @oxygenforthewicked @exalted-dawn-drabbles @melisusthewee @agentkatie @delicatefade @leggywillow @about2dance @plisuu

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yunhoee · 1 year ago

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Synopsis: Living post grad can be tough, especially when most of your friends are just entering their senior year. Your best friend invites you to play a practice game, but there couldn't possibly be ulterior motives could there?

Pairing: Choi Jongho x Reader

Genre: non idol!au, soccer player!jongho, soccer player!reader, mainly fluff, suggestive

Wordcount: 2.6k

Note: This was originally a one-shot, but I may write more! Please let me know what you think :)

It’s a wild Friday night. Pajamas are on, you have your favorite comfort show on, and a bucket of ice cream all to yourself. You are casually scrolling through social media. A lot of your friends have moved back in for their final year of college. You graduated the year before them, which at the time you were thrilled to be done. Now seeing them all go back without you hurts. You were the captain of your soccer team, and seeing your teammates prepare for the indoor season without you is a little bit of a bummer.

You were able to land a corporate job, which you are of course grateful for. Most days are spent alone considering you work from home. You can’t deny the depression that is starting to creep back in. Your phone dings and you smile at the photo that your best friend, Lauren, sends you. The photo shows a smiling Lauren with the rest of your team, and you can see part of the men’s team trying to get into their photo. You chuckle and heart the photo in imessage. You can’t deny the pain you feel knowing you won’t be there this season.

Turning up your show to try to drown out the sadness seems like the best idea. Until your phone goes off again.

“You better not be moping all alone right now. We miss you.”

Lauren always has a sense for whenever you’re feeling sad. Something you love and hate about her. Mostly love.

Nah. I’m at a huge corporate rager. Drunk off my ass, might go home with someone.

Lauren replies almost immediately.

“Okay now I’m actually worried. Why don’t you play in our practice scrimmage tomorrow? The boys have an unfair advantage, so we need all the help we can get.”

You roll your eyes.

Don’t you think that would be a little pathetic? And what unfair advantage could they possibly have? You stomp them at every scrimmage.

As you wait for a response you think about joining your old team. I mean it is just a practice game, and it’s not like you have anything better to do. The exercise would be nice.

“Are you kidding? The team would be thrilled. We miss you all the time :(. The unfair advantage would be Marcus’ friend that is in town. They went to elementary school together when Marcus lived in Korea, and well he’s fucking incredible at soccer.”

You sigh and try not to think too much about your answer. Maybe just going with the flow will work out for me this one time.

Damn all you had to say was Marcus and I’m in. I can’t wait to see his face when we win. Just text me the details and I’ll be there.

Lauren sent you a voice memo of her and the rest of the girls screaming in excitement. You laugh and then start to get ready for bed. The scrimmage is at 9am so you need to make sure you get plenty of sleep.

Tomorrow comes and before you know it, you’re at the fieldhouse. You’re not sure why you were so nervous because the girls give you an enormous warm welcome. Lauren forces you to start stretching and warming up early since it’s been a few months since you’ve played. As you and Lauren are warming up together, you notice she has the biggest smirk on her face.

“Why are you smiling like that?”, You ask.

Lauren giggles, “Don’t hate me. We obviously needed you to beat the boy’s team, but I also had a bit of a side quest.”

You narrow your eyes, “What are you up to?”

Lauren says, “Well Marcus’ friend is super hot and good at soccer. I thought maybe you guys could get to know each other.”

“This was a set up?!” You gasp.

Lauren hushes you, “No one else knows. Even if you don’t want him to be your boyfriend, it could be a fun hookup. Just trust me on this.”

You roll your eyes, “Whatever. He better not be ugly.”

Lauren laughs as the two of you continue to warm up. You can’t deny the butterflies you feel at the idea of this mystery man. Lauren has never been wrong before, so you’re just hoping you can muster up enough courage to be yourself.

“Well well well. Look what the cat dragged in”

You immediately know who the voice belongs to. You turn and can’t help but smile.

“I’m not admitting that I missed you”, You say with your hands on your hips.

Marcus laughs and opens his arms. You both embrace until Marcus tries to squeeze the life out of you.

“Okay! Are you trying to squeeze me to death?!” You shout as you wiggle out of his embrace.

Marcus smiles, “I missed you.”

Lauren interrupts, “Okay okay enough with the flirting, Marcus.”

Marcus recognizes someone behind you, “Over here, Jongho!”

You all turn to see the man that Marcus was calling over. Fuck Lauren was right, he’s gorgeous. He gives your group the cutest smile you’ve ever seen and jogs over to your group.

Lauren whispers to you, “You’re drooling.”

You lightly smack Lauren’s arm and try not to keep staring at Jongho.

“Alright everyone! This is Jongho. We met when I lived in Korea and he’s here to stomp your asses.” Marcus says as he wraps his arm around Jongho’s shoulder.

Lauren rolls her eyes and puts her arm around you, “Well, Jongho, this is y/n and she’s here to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

You are giggling at Lauren when you finally make eye contact with Jongho. He is smiling brightly at you. You’re unable to hide the slight blush that appears on your cheeks. A burst of confidence comes through you.

“Yeah sorry you came all this way just to have your ass handed to you” You say with a smirk.

The teams are laughing and you can’t bring yourself to look away from Jongho. The sexual tension is undeniable. He steps closer to you and you refuse to back down from eye contact, even when you have to look up to meet his eyeline.

Jongho looks down at you flirtatiously, “You’re a mouthy one aren’t you. I like that.”

He walks towards his side of the field, the rest of the boys follow after him. While you’re momentarily frozen in your spot. You can’t believe someone as beautiful as him said that to you.

Lauren drags you back to your side of the field while you continually thank her for making you come. She continues to nod her head with that ‘I told you so’ look. You can’t even argue with her because she was oh so right.

Your team is huddled and hyping each other up. You are all in agreement that you must win this scrimmage no matter what. Even though it’s only a practice game. You will be in your favorite position, center defender. Lauren let you know that Jongho is a forward, so you will definitely be seeing him. Your team all put your hands together.

Before you can break you tell them, “Not one of his balls will get past me.”

Your team cheers and breaks. As you walk to your position, you’re shaking yourself out. You can’t decide if it’s because it’s been awhile since you played or because you’re nervous as fuck. Either way, Jongho is not getting past you.

For the first 10 minutes you wonder when you will get to play. Both teams are so hyped up that it was really just a battle of the forwards and midfielders for a while. This was good because you were able to watch Jongho in action and see how he plays. Unfortunately for you he is incredible, so this will definitely be a tough match.

Jongho is the first one to slip through the midfielders and he is barreling right towards you with the ball. You take a deep breath and immediately go into action. He attempts to side step you, but you step directly in front of him and kick the ball between his legs. Jongho wasn’t prepared for you to be able to disable him so quickly that he didn’t have time to slow his body down. The force causes Jongho to fall, bringing you down with him. You immediately jump back up, only to sag in relief when you see Lauren is on the other side of the field with the ball.

“Are you okay?!” You see a frantic Jongho searching all over you to make sure he didn’t cause you harm.

You laugh, “I’m fine. Better luck next time.”

You can see that Jongho is taken aback by you. He wasn’t expecting you to be so incredibly good at defense, and also not afraid to put yourself directly in his path. He can’t help but admire you, but he will also not be misjudging you again.

Before leaving, he can’t help but brush the few hairs that are in your face out of the way. He tucks them behind your ear, and then runs off to the other side of the field. Leaving you there speechless, and furiously blushing.

As the game continues, the girls are not backing down. The score is 1-0, with Lauren being able to score because you got the ball from Jongho. You had a few more run-ins with different people on the other team, but none of them were able to get past you. With only a minute left, you can feel a flip of the switch for everyone on the field. The girls, desperate to defend and keep their advantage. The boys, desperate for one goal.

You can feel all the attention is on you. You are the reason they can’t score. You continue your breathing techniques as Jongho makes a beeline for the goal. Needing to get past you, he has three different guys running with him. As they go down the field they’re passing it to one another, in an attempt to confuse you. The three of them are now running side by side and passing it between each other.

They reach you and the fight begins. You get the ball from one of the guys and attempt to kick it, but Jongho blocks you. You are trying to get the ball back when he passes it to another teammate that you didn’t see. He was further away so you start sprinting right at him, but right before you get to him he kicks it far. You hold your breath while watching the ball soar right to Jongho. Who happened to be right by the goal box.

You immediately take off towards him, your other defender doing her best. He’s able to fake her out and make it past her, as she falls to the ground. Jongho is lining up his shot, and you know the only way to stop him is to slide to the ball. He doesn’t see you coming up behind him, and right as he’s about to kick the ball his feet are taken out under him. Since he was so close to the ball, you had to risk a slide tackle. The ball went right to your goalie as you planned and the buzzer went off.

You are laying on your side breathing heavily as you hear the rest of your teammates screaming in victory. You turn over and see Jongho laying right behind you with his hands on his head in defeat.

You sit up, “Are you okay?”

Jongho looks at you and smiles, “You really weren’t kidding. I thoroughly just got my ass handed to me.”

Jongho sits up as you two begin to laugh. Even after the intense game and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to move later, the chemistry is undeniable.

Jongho picks up one of your hands, “Would you let me take you on a date? You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

You blush and begin to laugh, “Even after I slide tackled you?”

Jongho smiles, “Yeah. I’ve met my match, and now I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop thinking about you.”

It’s your turn to fix his hair.

“Let’s get you checked out by the trainer first, and then we can see about that date.”

#ateez fanfic #ateez choi jongho #ateez jongho #jongho x reader #choi jongho x reader #choi jongho fluff #ateez #kpop #jongho

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bellofthemeadow · 2 years ago

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The Road Ahead - ch 1 | Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

Next chapter

For most of your married life, you dedicated yourself to waiting for Frankie. After each deployment, you patiently awaited his return, longing for the moment when he would be by your side again. During those nights when nightmares consumed his thoughts, you yearned for him to open up to you, hoping that he would find solace in sharing his pain. And as his addiction spiraled out of control, you held onto the hope that he would recognize his problem and seek help. However, despite your countless protests and pleas, you now find yourself waiting for him once more as he ventures off to Colombia, engaged in God knows what.

But this time is different. Determined, you make a solemn promise to yourself: You will never wait for Frankie again.

Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)

Word Count: 2.8K

Warning: Applicable for the entire fic / PTSD, drug use and addiction, postpartum depression, abusive familial relationships, self-hatred, unhealthy coping mechanism, explicit sexual content, violence, mentions of suicidal thoughts, super angsty

Chapter Summary: Now that Frankie is finally home for good, you can start looking to the future

Notes: Welcome everyone! This is a repost from my former blog "mywordhaven" Because of some technical difficulties with my old account, I decided that it would be easier to repost my work with a brand-new blog. It's basically the same chapter as the last one, but I did make some edits (mostly syntax tbh). I will be posting the other two chapters later tomorrow and the fourth chapter should be up on sunday.

I hope that those who were following me on my old blog will join me here and I look forward to meeting newcomers!

At Long Last

You find yourself drowning in the itchiness of the comforter draped across you. Its green, worn fabric scratches your overwhelmingly sensitive skin. Surprisingly, today you welcome this sensation. The uncomfortable feeling anchors your mind to your bed, preventing it from floating away. In this moment, as you struggle to catch your breath, the scratchiness of the duvet reminds you where you are.

Your hands glide slowly across the rough fabric, savouring its familiar prickle. As you trace the worn contours, you recall when you saw that green monstrosity for the first time— It was the day you and Frankie had first moved in together all those years ago, right before his second long deployment. From the moment your eyes landed on it, you despised its discoloured hue as it clashed with your envisioned home's colour scheme. But you had kept silent. Frankie was leaving, and you didn't want your last moments together marred by a pointless argument over a green bedspread, no matter how dreadful it looked.

Now, ten years, 2 home relocations and a marriage later, that green duvet stubbornly remains an integral part of your bedroom decor, painfully clashing with the soothing blues surrounding it. Cornflower Blue, as the Home Depot employee had labelled it. You had agonized for days on which colour to go with, tirelessly checking Pinterest boards in the hope to find the perfect shade for your bedroom— A place you hoped would be a peaceful haven for Frankie. You spent weeks deliberating between countless swatches until finally settling on the current hue. Still, the horrid green persistently clashes with the blue you lovingly chose. Perhaps sage green would have been wiser, you think. But you had refused to admit defeat to an old, worn duvet and instead, had stubbornly gone with your first idea, horrid green be damned! But now, to your frustration, the bedroom remains an enduring battleground of colours, an ongoing struggle where different shades vie for supremacy in their quest to dominate the mood of the room.

Yet Frankie had never commented on the jarring combination of green and blue or their blatant mismatch. Perhaps you were making a mountain out of Molehill as you always seem to do. After all, your tendency to dramatize insignificant matters had been a subject of teasing within your family for as long as you could remember. Your brother had a habit of remarking on how seriously you took trivial matters. For your entire lives, nicknames like "Miss Prissy" or "Your Majesty" had been some of the less painful monickers thrown your way to highlight your over-sensitiveness. And while your family saw it as innocent sibling teasing, these remarks had a way of leaving you feeling bruised, unable to brush the comments off as easily as everyone expected you to.

Your hands pause above your bare, sweat-dampened chest, shaking your head to dispel the unwelcomed and intrusive thoughts. Instead, you focus on the blissful moment you’ve just shared with your husband. The memory of that bothersome, green eyesore and all its associated baggage swiftly retreats from your mind, vanishing as fleetingly as it arrived.

Finally, you begin to feel like the easy joys of savouring life are within your reach. With Frankie by your side, you start to envision a newfound freedom to engage in playful bickering, loud laughter, and sheer enjoyment of each other. The mundane moments hold an allure like never before, beckoning you to revel in their ordinary beauty. It's a longing for a life that seems quintessentially American, relentlessly depicted on daytime television—an idyllic portrait of a family, complete with devoted parents and their brood of 2.5 children, nestled in a cozy backyard. PTA meetings, a simple 9-to-5, soccer practices after school, and piano lessons on weekends create the repetitive rhythm of this picture-perfect existence. In your vision, the pinnacle of concern revolves around selecting the ideal flowers for the summer flowerbed. While some may deem it mundane, for you, it represents an exquisite slice of paradise.

Your husband Frankie had gone through years of military service, and he deserves nothing less, you think. Your hands still from their exploration as you think on the nightmares, anxiety, and fear that would consume Frankie. Even here with you, it sometimes felt as though he was still back there, never truly able to be completely present. Like on those many nights when Frankie was on temporary leave, he would wake up screaming and trashing in the middle of the night covered in cold sweats. Or when you guys would be out and about, and his eyes would shift with practiced zeal as if he was assessing for possible threats. Never really “turning off”. No amount of sweet reassuring words were ever able to soothe him when he found himself stuck within his own mind. Every time you tried to discuss these concerns with him, your husband would respond with calm reassurances, followed by a tender kiss on your forehead, urging you not to worry about him.

You shake your head, a resolute movement meant to, again, brush away the intrusive thoughts lingering on the periphery, refusing to let them dim this precious moment. You shift your gaze, fixating on the horizon of possibilities that stretches before you. It is a horizon where love acts as a healing balm, gently tending to the myriad wounds etched upon your husband's past. Your heart, though cautiously guarded, brims with a glimmer of hope, eager to embark on this journey together.

However, despite your best efforts, thoughts of your mother insidiously infiltrate your mind. Over the years, you've clashed with her on countless occasions, yet now, as a married woman, you think back on her warning before you got married. The resonating echo of her stern voice lingers in your thoughts, admonishing you to unwaveringly stand by your husband, regardless of the circumstances, and emphasizing that his happiness must always take precedence over everything else. Strangely, she never mentioned the reverse. With Frankie's return, you resolve to be more present, leaving daydreams behind and focusing on him and solely on him.

As you think of Frankie, you can clearly see his body and how it bears the evidence of his service, a map of scars, some worn openly, while others hide beneath his weary flesh. Deep wounds that bleed and pain him more than any bullet ever could. Words alone seem insufficient in the face of everything he has sacrificed. But now, Frankie is finally home, all of this is behind you two. And isn't all this what marriage vows were meant for? In sickness and in health, through the lows and the highs, you pledged to be there. As you remind yourself, supporting your husband doesn't diminish your strength and independence. It's merely an expression of love and partnership, you firmly resolve, even though the words ring somewhat hollow, as a voice in the back of your mind whispers, "But what about you?"

You slowly redirect your attention to the persistent itchiness on your skin. Taking three deep breaths, you allow each inhale and exhale to anchor you firmly into the present. As the air fills your lungs, you feel your shoulders slowly ease from the tension you always seem to put yourself under.

Now that Frankie is here to stay, you want nothing else than to provide the emotional solace and respite he needs to rebuild and find peace within himself. After everything Frankie has endured, you decide that he deserves a life that is predictably dull yet safe and warm. You want to build that life for him.

As your imagination runs rampant with visions of the life you're now free to construct together, Frankie emerges in the doorway. Clad in nothing more than a familiar, well-worn pair of briefs, he exudes an aura that is unmistakably his own—a blend of warmth, comfort, and a sense of home. In that instant, as you gaze at each other, it feels as though every small longing you held during Frankie's absence has converged into this singular moment. Nothing else matters to you right now except being with him.

In Frankie's hands, he carefully balances a tray, on it a tall glass of ice-cold water adorned with glistening condensation. The hunger stirs within you and your gaze falls upon two perfectly crafted PB and J sandwiches, invitingly prepared. It's evident that even now, the precise conditioning instilled by the army remains ingrained in Frankie. The unwavering precision, tidiness, and discipline persist, even amidst post-coital bliss. Sloppily prepared sandwiches? Never on Frankie’s watch.

Fondness envelops your heart, causing it to flutter with an intensity that threatens to burst from your chest. At this moment, a culmination of experiences floods your mind—the countless sleepless nights spent anxiously awaiting a call, the fear that gripped you while scouring the news for any shred of information, and Frankie's inability to share the depths of what he went through all race to the forefront of your mind. Now, as you reminisce about those moments when others would claim that being with Frankie wasn't worth the pain or hardships, a profound sense of satisfaction fills your heart. You're grateful for having ignored their words, as every single challenge and difficulty encountered along the way—the long-distance separations, the emotional uncertainties, and the sacrifices made—has ultimately proven to mean something. A smile mirrors your own overwhelming happiness as Frankie starts to walk toward the bed.

"I thought you'd have an appetite after all that exercise," Frankie says, his voice laced with a playful tone. His eyes, warm like melted chocolate, cradle you in their soft gaze. They speak volumes, no words needed, telling you just how much he cares.

A mischievous smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you playfully quip, "Guess it doesn't help that we skipped dinner either, huh?"

"I apologize, mi cielo. I suppose I let my excitement get the better of me," Frankie admits, a touch of boyish bashfulness colouring his tone. "After eight long months apart, how could you expect me not to pounce on you, especially when you look so breathtaking?"

With utmost care, Frankie gently places the tray on the tiny side table, taking special care to move aside the book you're currently engrossed in. With the task completed, he turns his gaze towards you, slowly making his way to your side. Your eyes lock, and in an instant, he tenderly captures your mouth with his own. The kiss is unhurried yet filled with an intense passion, a promise of all that is to come, a fulfillment of the multitude of promises you have made to each other. Now, you have all the time in the world to embrace those promises.

As the kiss deepens, Frankie's hands begin to explore your naked body, their touch igniting a fiery desire that resonates deep within you. It engulfs you in a passionate longing that intensifies with each passing second. Frankie's wandering hands halt at your hips, where he gently strokes your sides while deepening the kiss even further. Breaking the kiss, he presses his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily, his warm breath mingling with your own. A playful glimmer dance in Frankie’s brown eyes as he firmly grabs your hips, effortlessly flipping you both into the deep plushness of the bed.

A delighted squeal escapes your throat, and you find yourself on top of Frankie, straddling his warm hips. His devilish smile meets your gaze. Like a tidal wave, a rush of excitement cascades through you, electrifying your senses and igniting newfound energy within.

"I thought we were supposed to have dinner," you playfully tease, your hands resting on the firm planes of his pectorals.

Frankie's eyes glisten mischievously as he responds, his voice filled with playful affection, "Don't worry, hermosa. Dinner can wait another minute. Right now, all I want to do is admire you." With a tender touch, he grabs a handful of the fleshy part of your hips, gently massaging your sides. His voice carries on, laced with adoration, "You know, this angle is my favourite. When I see you from above, naked, and sweaty, you look like my very own Amazon. My fierce warrior queen whom I can’t wait to worship." His grip tightens possessively, playfully swatting your behind, causing your flesh to softly jiggle.

You can't help but snort with amusement, firmly grinding down in a slow sensuous movement Frankie exhales a low moan, his eyes closing in pleasure. Yielding to the temptation, you momentarily cease your ministrations and whisper, "Well, last time I checked, librarians weren't renowned for their battle prowess.”

Frankie's smile stretches, his eyes opening and locking with yours, while his hands gently secure your hips. His soft voice echoes sweetly, "Physical prowess is just a fraction of true strength, mi cielo. It's a mindset, a spirit that radiates courage and perseverance. Believe me when I tell you, you possess that strength in a way that surpasses anyone I've ever encountered."

His words envelop you in a comforting embrace that floods your being with warmth. Reflected in his eyes is an unwavering conviction, a faith given to you unlike any you've experienced before. Such belief, one you've never even held for yourself, captivates you. The weight of his words resonates deeply, shaking the core of your being, even as you strive to maintain a facade of nonchalance. But Frankie effortlessly sees through your charade, knowing you better than he knows himself at this point. He slowly pushes his upper body upward and starts peppering your collarbones with tender kisses. You feel your cheeks heating as you shyly avert your gaze, unable to resist the sweetness of his praise and the even sweeter ministration.

A brief moment passes, during which you nibble on your lower lip, contemplating your next words. Finally, you muster the courage to meet Frankie's eyes once more, you push him back down on the mattress and ask, a mischievous glint shining in your eyes, "If I am to be your queen, does that mean you're willing to obey my every command?”

A playful smile dances on Frankie's lips as he replies, "Well, mi cielo, let's just say I'm more than willing to embark on the thrilling adventure of fulfilling your every desire, one command at a time." With those words, Frankie softly grabs your right arm, the very arm that had been holding him down, and he punctuates each word with a tender kiss upon the palm of your hand. As he does so, his eyes gently close, allowing his lips to linger in their affectionate embrace, locked in that sweet moment.

Frankie surrenders to the present, savouring every precious second that slowly passes between the two of you. The ache of longing for you these past months had been insurmountable, a void that only you could fill. Amidst his world engulfed in chaos, pain, and the remanence of a haunting trail of death that seemed eternally imprinted on his very being, your presence at his side has always been the sole beacon of meaning and coherence. The only thing that ever truly mattered to him. Screw everything else; he should have chosen to stay home long ago, before feeling trapped in the abyss he felt he had dug himself into over the years. In an attempt to dispel the encroaching darkness threatening to envelop him, Frankie inhales deeply, pushing away those grim thoughts, before swiftly flipping you over.

Everything else fades away again, and only the two of you remain. As you draw in a deep breath, the air fills your lungs with a trembling intensity, causing a burning sensation. Your chest tightens, not just from the weight of Frankie's presence, but also from the weight of everything that surrounds you, suffocating you in its bittersweet grasp. Tenderly, Frankie gently presses his nose against yours, once, twice, before planting a soft kiss upon its tip.

“My love, I assure you that nothing can ever come between us. There is nothing that could separate me from you. I belong to you for eternity, and as long as I can share my life with you, my dear, it will have been a life worth living, mi cielo.”

Your eyes well up with tears, and with a quiver in your voice, you whisper, "I love you, Frankie."

"Te amo, mi cielo, te amo para siempre," he replies, his words carrying the weight of a vow between you two.

With intertwined fingers and hearts overflowing with love, you gaze into each other's eyes. As you lie there, wrapped in the afterglow of passion, you savour the tranquillity and completeness that permeates the room. You vow to cherish each day, to embrace the ordinary moments that always become extraordinary when you are with Frankie. Together, you will face the world with open hearts, ready to create this future you’ve always yearned for with Frankie. As Frankie peppers kisses down your throat, you smile, and a shuddering breath escapes you. Food can wait you think giddily. Your hands gently glide along the broad expanse of his back, savouring him in all his glorious being. Nothing else matters now, for Frankie is home.

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