#7:52pm

[lex-nulla]

one of these days my blow dryer is going to stop making weird clicky noises and just explode directly in my face

[sleepysuccubi]

Are you fingering yourself currently?

sir, this is a wendy’s

[buckets-and-trees]

Red, White & True: Election Day in New York, Pt. 3 [17/17]

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 5.8k Summary: Everything draws to an end, and results are coming in.

Content/Warnings: political/campaign discussions, marriage of political convenience, slow burn, really the slowest burn, strangers to friends to true love

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

Previous Chapter | Series

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

[NOVEMBER 3 - 7:52PM - FIFTEENTH FLOOR SUITE, THE PLAZA HOTEL]

A handful of states close their polls at 6pm, and so as you sit up in the suite eating dinner with staffers and your parents, you’re starting to see a few spots on the map change from grey to red or blue. Kentucky and South Carolina have gone red; Vermont, Virginia, and North Carolina are in the blue; and nothing has been projected or called for Steve yet - who will show up in green on the map. The campaign spent a lot of time jumping in and out of Georgia since it would be a key swing state for everyone, and their polls closed at seven, but it will likely be hours before things are definitively called there. 

With three major contenders, a candidate only needs a minimum of 34% of the ballots to take their votes in the electoral college in forty-eight of the fifty states.

Your father passes you a plate of appetizers from the elaborate spread catering has set out. In true Plaza fashion, every morsel looks like a miniature work of art, but your appetite is fickle as you watch the electoral map with one eye while trying to maintain conversation with the others in the room.

"You've barely touched your food," your mother observes, her voice low with concern. "You need to keep your strength up. It's going to be a long night."

"I know, I'm just nervous." You gesture vaguely toward the television where Anderson Cooper and Jake Tapper are holding court with a robust cohort of political analysts and thought leaders, debating and analyzing all the developments so far. In addition to the presidential race, there are Senate and House races that will determine how things will stack up in Congress. 

She puts a hand over yours with a knowing smile. "I remember your father before his first big promotion decision. Couldn't eat for two days."

"That was different," your father protests mildly, though his eyes twinkle with amusement. “Nothing close to a presidential race.”

On the television screens throughout the suite, CNN's John King stands at his "Magic Wall," the giant interactive electoral map that has become a fixture of election night coverage. The camera catches him mid-sentence as he zooms in on the Midwest. 

"—and we're just getting the first results from Indiana now," his voice carries over the ambient conversation in the room. "With sixty-two percent of precincts reporting, we can now project that Indiana will go to Independent candidate Steve Rogers." 

The room falls silent, all eyes turning to the screens as a section of the map flashes and then fills with green—the color the networks have designated for your campaign. 

"Indiana," King continues, tapping the state with practiced precision, "with its eleven electoral votes, becomes the first state to be called for the Rogers-Young ticket tonight. This is significant, folks. Indiana has traditionally been a Republican stronghold in presidential elections. The last time it went Democratic was for Barack Obama in 2008, and that was considered a major upset at the time. For Rogers to take Indiana suggests that the independent campaign has successfully carved into traditional Republican territory."

A cheer erupts from the campaign staff, high-fives and hugs exchanged across the room. Jake punches the air, his face alight with vindication.

"I told you the ground game there was working!" he exclaims to no one in particular. "Those extra rallies in Fort Wayne and Evansville paid off!"

Your father wraps an arm around your shoulders, giving you a squeeze. "First one on the board," he says, his voice thick with pride.

"It's just one state," you remind him, though you can't help the flutter of excitement in your chest.

"But it's a sign," your mother adds, her eyes bright. "People are listening."

Steve makes his way over to you, navigating through the celebrating staffers. When he reaches you, he leans down to kiss your cheek, his eyes bright with cautious optimism.

"One green state on the board," he murmurs against your ear.

"Eleven electoral votes closer to two-seventy," you reply, referencing the magic number needed to win the presidency. "Only two hundred and fifty-nine to go." 

With the first green state on the board, it’s no longer a pipe dream that Steve could win states. But the question is will he - or Monroe or Peterson - earn the two hundred and seventy needed to win the presidency outright?

The network cuts to a commercial break, and you take the opportunity to check your phone. Messages have been pouring in all night—from friends, former colleagues, even a few celebrities who've publicly supported the campaign. But one text catches your eye—from Oprah.

Indiana's just the beginning. Keep watching Ohio. I've got a feeling.

Ohio would be an incredible get. But so was landing an interview with Oprah, who’s now optimistically texting you on election night. 

You glance across the room at your husband - former Captain America - speaking to the current Captain America and shake your head ever so slightly. 

How is this your life?

The evening progresses in a blur of projections and anticipation. Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Governor Peterson’s home state of Michigan remain too close to call, but Florida's thirty electoral votes flash red at 9:15 PM, sending a wave of grumbling and groaning through the room. Connecticut and Delaware come in as green to give Steve ten more votes between them. 

Maine - one of the two states that can allocate votes - doles out three blue to Monroe, but Steve takes one green from their share. Missouri, New Jersey, and Rhode Island come in for Steve, but it’s still only 50 votes with Peterson at 36 and Monroe taking most of Democratic New England to sit at 63. 

Steve paces, he stands in quiet consternation by the window, dives into data with Jake, and cycles back through it all again and again. Jake is adamant that Steve shouldn’t appear in public again until it’s time for his speech - that visits to the crowd in Central Park or in the Grand Ballroom downstairs should only come from his VP candidate Charlie Young, Charlie’s wife Zoey, or you.

You find yourself drifting to Steve's side as he stands alone by the window, looking out at the Manhattan skyline glittering against the night. His reflection in the glass shows a man deep in thought, shoulders tense despite his attempt to appear composed. 

"Penny for your thoughts?" you ask softly, sliding your arm through his. 

He turns slightly, offering you a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Just wondering what the Founding Fathers would think of all this. Three viable candidates, a former Avenger on the ballot..." 

"I think they'd be impressed by how far we've come," you reply, leaning into his warmth. "Democracy evolving, adapting." 

"Or they'd be horrified that a super soldier could potentially be president." 

You squeeze his arm. "They'd see what I see—a good man trying to do what he can for his country." 

Before Steve can respond, there’s another joyous uproar when Illinois and its nineteen votes go green for Steve, bringing him up to 69 votes and surpassing Monroe for the first time tonight. 

The energy in the room spikes with each new state called. Aides rush back and forth with updated numbers, tablets displaying real-time data from key precincts. The clink of glasses and nervous laughter punctuate the tension as everyone watches the map slowly fill with colors. 

Sophia weaves through the crowd toward you, tablet clutched in one hand and a Diet Coke in the other. Her face is flushed with excitement, eyes bright with the adrenaline that's keeping everyone going. 

"We just got word from our team in Ohio," she says breathlessly, leaning in close so you can hear over the chatter. "The numbers from Cleveland and Columbus are stronger than we projected. If the trend holds—" 

Just then, Jake calls out from across the room, "Pennsylvania's been called by AP! We took those nineteen, baby!”

The room erupts at Steve taking his first swing state off the board from red or blue, with people jumping and hugging, including yourself and Sophia. 

In your excitement, you don't notice Sophia's drink tilting precariously until it's too late. Cold liquid splashes across your silk blouse, the dark cola creating an instant stain that spreads down your front. The icy sensation makes you gasp, jumping back reflexively as the room continues celebrating around you.

"Oh my God!" Sophia's eyes widen in horror, her hand flying to her mouth. "I'm so sorry! I can't believe I just did that." Her face flushes crimson, mortification replacing her previous excitement. "I'm never this clumsy!"

"It's just a Diet Coke," you assure her, grabbing a nearby napkin to try and dab away at the liquid - but it’s reflex more than anything. You know it won’t help in this case. “I’ll go change, it’s fine.”

Sophia grimaces in sympathy. “I think there’s a change of clothes already laid out for you in case something like this happened.”

You laugh. “It’ll be good to stretch my legs anyway. I’ll be right back.”

You slip out of the suite without drawing any attention to yourself - except for your Secret Service agent, who falls in step with you - and head down the hallway. 

With Pennsylvania in the pile with Kansas, Louisiana, and Iowa that came in just before, Steve’s up at 108 electoral votes. 

Peterson’s red has surged up to 90, but Monroe’s blue have held steady at only 63. 

So a little Diet Coke spill cannot dampen the buzz of impossible excitement you’re feeling in your bones. 

The agent remains in the hallway once you key in the door. The Secret Service has had this floor on lockdown all day, precluding a need to check your room. 

You kick off your heels immediately, then step in front of the mirror to survey the damage and laugh to yourself. It’s bad. But months on the campaign trail mean your team has extra clothes ready to swap out for you or Steve at any given moment. And, sure enough, when you step through the small sitting room into the bedroom of the suite there’s a garment bag laid across the king size bed. You begin to unbutton your blouse, then blink and turn back to look at the bag again. 

“No…” you say out loud to no one, as you step closer to the foot of the bed. “What…?” 

Why is your wedding dress here? Surely it’s not some symbolic nod they want you and Steve to make about your arranged marriage… That would be insane. 

There’s a click of the lock at the door, and then Steve’s voice. “Sweetheart?”

Your heart rockets all a-flutter in your chest at the way the endearment rolls so naturally off his tongue. 

“In here,” you call, your voice wavering slightly as you stare at the wedding dress.

Steve appears in the doorway, and you immediately notice he's changed out of his navy suit into a crisp white shirt and dark slacks. His eyes find yours, then follow your gaze to the garment bag on the bed.

You note that he doesn’t look surprised at all. 

Instead there is a curious mix of determination and vulnerability in his expression that makes your breath catch.

"Steve, why is my wedding dress here?"

"Because I was hoping you might wear it again," he says, his voice low and steady despite the emotion you can see flickering in his eyes.

"Wear it again?" you repeat, confusion clouding your thoughts. "Tonight? For what?"

Steve crosses the room slowly, his movements deliberate as he comes to stand before you. The soft light of the bedroom casts shadows across his face, highlighting the strong line of his jaw, the earnestness in his eyes. He takes your hands in his, and you're surprised to find them slightly trembling. 

Or is that you?

"Sophia's drink was no accident," he says with a half-smile, and suddenly everything clicks into place—the furtive conversation with Bucky and Sam, the meaningful glances, Sophia's uncharacteristic clumsiness. "I needed a moment alone with you."

You shake your head in disbelief, but warmth is spreading through your chest as realization dawns. "In the middle of election night?" 

Steve's thumb traces gentle circles on the back of your hand, his touch grounding you as the world seems to tilt on its axis. "I couldn't think of a more perfect time." 

Steve takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. 

"These last months have been the most extraordinary of my life," he continues, his voice gaining strength. "Not because of the campaign or the people or the possibility of making a better future for the country, though all those pieces have been incredible in their own right, but because of you. Because I've had the privilege of falling in love with my wife—really falling in love with you—day by day, moment by moment."

Your heart swells at his words, eyes misting as you see the raw sincerity in his gaze. This is Steve Rogers—not Captain America, not the presidential candidate—just the man who has become your whole world.

“You were asked to be my wife,” Steve says, matter-of-fact, “and not even by me, but now I want to ask if I can be your husband?”

"Steve," you breathe, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. 

"Tonight, the country is deciding if they want me as their president, but I already know what I want. I want you, for the rest of my life, not because a strategy demanded it, but because I love you. Because I choose you. Because when I look at my future—whether it's in the White House or back at our brownstone in Brooklyn or anywhere on this earth—the only thing I know for certain is that I want you beside me."

Emotion makes your throat ache as you watch him gradually sink to one knee before you. The gesture is so achingly traditional, so sweetly earnest coming from a man who has lived through a century of change, that tears spring to your eyes.

"Steve Rogers," you whisper, cupping his face with your free hand, "are you proposing to me on election night?"

"We've done everything backwards," Steve continues, a gentle smile playing at his lips. "Had our wedding before our courtship, built a life together before we even knew if we wanted one. But I'm asking you now, marry me again tonight?" 

“We’re a little busy!” you laugh breathlessly. 

He cocks his head to the side. “No, we’re not. Polls are still open on the West Coast, and in Alaska and Hawaii. Unless you’re refusing me…” 

You can hear the tone of sarcasm in the last part, but you’re still quick to exclaim, “No!” practically shouting. “I mean, yes, of course I want to marry you again," you say, your heart soaring. "But when you say tonight, you mean…"

"I mean right now." The smile that breaks across his face is radiant, making your heart flutter. He stands, pulling you against him in one smooth motion, his arms encircling your waist. 

"But how? When?" you ask, your mind racing with logistics even as joy bubbles up inside you. "We can't just—"

"We can," he interrupts gently. "It's all arranged. The Terrace Room is ready for us. Your parents and our closest friends are here. Since technically we’re renewing vows, we don’t need an ordained officiant, but Sam knows a chaplain who works with the VA, and he’s waiting for us downstairs."

You blink in amazement. "You planned all this? During the most important night of the campaign?"

"This is the most important night of our lives," Steve corrects you, his hands warm and steady at your waist. "Not because of the election, but because it's another beginning for us. Our real beginning."

Your eyes search his face, finding nothing but absolute certainty there. This man who has faced down armies and aliens and impossible odds is looking at you like you're his greatest adventure yet. 

"What if you win?" you ask, your practical side making one last attempt at reason. 

"Then we celebrate twice," he says simply. "And if we lose, we still have something beautiful to mark this night." 

The logic of it strikes you suddenly—the perfect symmetry. Your marriage began as a political calculation, a strategy to win an election. Now, on election night itself, you have the chance to transform it into something chosen freely, with full hearts and clear eyes. 

"Yes," you say finally, your voice strong and sure. "Yes!”

Your mind is spinning, overwhelmed by the sheer audacity and romance of his gesture. "But what about—"

"The campaign? Jake has it under control. The results? They'll come in whether we're watching or not. Speeches? It’s still anybody’s game. We have at least an hour." His hands cup your face tenderly. "This is our moment. Everything else can wait a little while."

A laugh bubbles up from your chest, half disbelief, half pure joy. "You're impossible, you know that? Planning a surprise vow renewal ceremony on election night."

"I prefer the term 'strategic,'" he counters with a grin.

You shake your head, marveling at this man who you imagine will continually find ways to surprise you for the rest of your lives together. 

You lean in, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I love you, Steve Rogers." 

"I love you," he echoes, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss that promises forever. 

You're about to deepen the kiss when a furious pounding on the door startles you both. The hammering is so intense it seems to rattle the entire door in its frame. 

"Steve!" Bucky's voice booms from the hallway, urgent and breathless. "Open the damn door!"

"Coming!" Steve calls, releasing you reluctantly. 

The romantic bubble has been pierced by whatever emergency has Bucky sounding so frantic. Steve strides quickly to the door, yanking it open to reveal Bucky standing there, chest heaving as if he's just sprinted the length of the corridor. 

"Georgia, Texas, and Ohio," Bucky announces, his eyes bright with something between disbelief and triumph. "All three just came in green. Within five minutes of each other." 

Steve's face goes blank with shock. "What?" 

"Texas?" you whisper, the impossibility of it making your voice falter. "Texas went green?" 

Bucky nods vigorously, his metal hand gripping the doorframe so tightly you can hear it creak. "Forty electoral votes from Texas. Santos practically went door-to-door for us the past five days.”

"How?" Steve breathes. "Texas has only failed to go red with Carter in the seventies, Bartlet with Hoynes as his VP, and Santos in ‘06 and ‘10.”

“Wait,” you interject. “Georgia and Ohio, too? Georgia and Ohio?”

Bucky beams. “Another big swing state in the South and the state that almost never gets it wrong when it comes down to who ultimately wins the presidency.”

“Republicans never win without taking Ohio,” you add, all of you knowing way more about electoral college lore at this point than many political operatives and politicians. 

“And, like I said, forty from Texas. With seventeen from Ohio and sixteen from Georgia. That's seventy-three more in our column. We're at two-nineteen and counting."

Your jaw drops and Steve shakes his head in disbelief. “Did you just say two-nineteen?”

“Oh, you missed New York - but we banked hard that you’d take your home state - and Wisconsin came in after you left, too, giving you twenty-eight and ten respectively.”

Steve leans against the doorframe, his face a mixture of shock and dawning realization. "Two hundred and nineteen electoral votes?"

"Just fifty-one more to go," Bucky confirms, his eyes gleaming. "Jake's losing his mind up there. The networks are scrambling. No one saw Texas coming."

You grab Steve's arm, dizzy with the implications. "We're actually doing this," you whisper. "We're actually winning."

The enormity of it hits you both at once. What started as a long-shot campaign, an idealistic bid to change the nature of American politics, is now on the verge of making history. The independent candidate who many dismissed as a symbolic protest vote is now within striking distance of the presidency.

Bucky watches your faces with a mixture of joy and impatience. "So, are we still doing this thing or what? Because the window of free time has narrowed significantly if you’re still… wait, did you ask her?"

Steve nods, his eyes never leaving yours, a silent question there. 

"Yes," you say firmly, squeezing his hand. "We're absolutely still doing this. I don't care if every state in the union turns green in the next twenty minutes—I'm marrying you again tonight, Steve Rogers." 

Steve's face breaks into that radiant smile that still makes your heart skip, and he turns back to Bucky, who’s grinning almost as much as Steve. "Wedding's still on. Tell everyone to meet us downstairs in fifteen minutes."

Bucky grins, already backing away down the hall. "Better make it ten! And I'll keep Jake from having a coronary when he realizes you're still going through with this."

As he disappears around the corner, Steve closes the door and turns back to you, his expression a mixture of wonder and determination. 

"Two hundred and nineteen electoral votes," you breathe, still processing it. 

Steve laughs, pulling you into his arms and spinning you around once, the movement lifting you slightly off your feet. His joy is infectious, electrifying the air between you. 

"I don't even know what to say," he admits, setting you down gently. "But right now, I care more about being your husband—your real husband—than I do about being president."

His words make your chest swell with emotion. In this moment of potential political triumph, his focus remains on you, on the relationship you've built from such unlikely beginnings.

"Two-seventy might happen tonight," you whisper, "but either way, we're happening right now." You run your hands up his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. 

Steve kisses you then, a kiss filled with promise and certainty. When he pulls away, his eyes are bright with determination. His fingers trail along your jawline, tender and reverent. "I should go change. Sam's got my suit in his room." 

You nod, reluctant to let him go even for a few minutes. Steve takes the wedding band off your finger, promising to give it back to you next time he sees you. "Something borrowed," he murmurs.

"Ten minutes," you remind him, brushing your lips against his one more time before stepping back. 

"Ten minutes," he confirms, his eyes lingering on you as he backs toward the door. 

When he's gone, you turn to face the wedding dress, freeing it from the garment bag and running your fingers over the delicate fabric. It seems like a lifetime ago that you first wore this—a political arrangement between virtual strangers, both of you nervous and uncertain. Now, the thought of wearing it to marry the man you love fills you with a different kind of butterflies entirely. 

There's another knock, and this time it's Sophia and your mom, coming to help you with your wedding dress. 

"Thank God you're here," you say, relief flooding through you as you open the door. "I need to get ready in less than ten minutes." 

Your mother brushes past you, already reaching for the dress. "Well, we can't have you late to your own wedding. Again." Her eyes twinkle with amusement. 

Sophia follows her inside, the back up cosmetics bag she’s carried around ‘just in case’ for you during the campaign in hand, a determined expression on her face. "I still can't believe I had to feign clumsiness as part of a presidential conspiracy," she laughs, setting the bag down on the dresser. "Though I have to admit, spilling that drink on cue was harder than any campaign strategy I've had to execute."

"You were very convincing," you assure her, stepping out of your stained blouse as your mother holds up the wedding dress. 

"I can't believe he planned this," your mother says, shaking her head in wonder. "And I’m so glad we get to really be here for you this time,” she adds. 

You squeeze her hand, not wanting to relive the past. “It’s different for all of us this time.”

The three of you work quickly, and you do make it downstairs in ten minutes. Peterson takes his home state of Michigan and both Dakotahs for twenty-one more points in the red column. 

But that doesn’t matter as your father meets you at the entrance of the Terrace Room, which has been transformed into an ethereal wedding-scape. 

[11:18PM - THE TERRACE ROOM]

You assume there must be a couple getting ready to use the room for their own nuptials the next day because there are far too many chairs set up, and the hotel staff certainly couldn’t have pulled off decorations this elaborate in only a few hours. The crystal chandeliers are striking enough, but with creamy silks and lush cascades of white and blush of flowers hanging from the ceiling, it’s surreal and stunning—just one more unforgettable thing you catalogue in your memory for this incredible night. 

Steve stands at the front of the room, his eyes finding yours immediately as you begin your walk. The small gathering of your closest friends and family—Sam, Bucky, Sophia, Jake, your mother, Pepper, Maria Hill, Peter Parker—all rise, but you barely notice them. Your entire world narrows to Steve's face, to the look of pure adoration that transforms his features as he watches you approach.

The music is soft, some classical piece you don't recognize but that feels perfect for this moment. Your father's arm is steady under your trembling hand, excitement and an eagerness surging through your veins.

"I'm so happy for you," he whispers, his voice rough with feeling. "Not because you might be First Lady, but because you found someone who will look at you like that for the rest of your life."

You squeeze his arm in silent thanks, unable to form words past the lump in your throat. 

When you reach Steve, your father places your hand in his before stepping back. Steve's fingers curl around yours, warm and sure, grounding you amid the surreal beauty of this moment. The chaplain begins speaking, but his words fade into the background as you and Steve stand face to face, hands clasped, hearts open.

“You ready?” you whisper so only he can hear, the reassuring question you’ve asked each other a hundred times at key moments during this campaign - this marriage.

“Let’s do this,” he replies, no question. 

And there’s no question in your heart either. 

Everything this time is different. You can’t take your eyes off each other, you hold onto his hands desperately - earnestly - because you need to like you need to breathe. Steve slides your wedding band back onto your finger, and this time when he does it, your heart feels like it might burst from happiness.

The vows you speak aren't scripted or rehearsed. They flow naturally, honest declarations of the love that grew between you - from reluctant allies to acquaintances to partners to friends to lovers. Steve's voice catches when he promises to choose you every day for the rest of his life, and you don't bother hiding the tears that spill down your cheeks as you pledge yourself to him in return. 

When the chaplain pronounces you husband and wife - again - Steve's kiss is nothing like the polite, chaste brush of lips at your first ceremony. This kiss is deep and passionate, a promise and a claiming all at once. The small group erupts in cheers and applause as you melt against him, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, his arms wrapping securely around your waist.

When you finally break apart, Steve keeps you close, his forehead resting against yours as you both catch your breath.

"Mrs. Rogers," he murmurs, his voice intimate despite the audience.

"Mr. Rogers," you reply with a smile, your heart so full it aches.

Jake clears his throat loudly. "Sorry to break up this moment, but we've got Montana and Colorado coming in green. That's fourteen more electoral votes."

Steve laughs, keeping his arm around your waist as you both turn to face your friends. "Two hundred and thirty-three," he says, shaking his head in wonder. He turns to look at Pepper. “You might not have been crazy about any of this after all.”

She beams. “I’ve been known to have an eye for people and possibilities - and I couldn’t be happier to be right about this.”

Your small wedding reception consists of champagne and a hastily assembled dessert bar courtesy of the Plaza's pastry chef who, upon learning Captain America was renewing his vows on election night, insisted on creating something special. The elegant room buzzes with conversation and laughter, an island of personal joy amid the political storm raging outside these walls. 

Steve pulls you closer against his side, his thumb tracing circles on your hip. "How are you feeling, Mrs. Rogers?" he asks quietly, his breath warm against your ear. 

"Like I'm living in a dream," you admit, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "What about you? Still nervous about the results?"

"I'm exactly where I need to be," he answers, his eyes never leaving yours. The certainty in his voice makes your heart swell. "Everything else is just..." He trails off, searching for the right word. 

Your moment is interrupted by Sam, who pops another bottle of champagne, the cork flying across the room as everyone laughs.

"To the newlyweds," he announces, refilling glasses for the small gathering. "Again!"

Everyone raises their glasses, but before you can take a sip, Jake’s phone rings. His expression shifts as he listens, eyes widening. He looks up at Steve and steps forward to hand him the phone. 

Steve takes the phone with a questioning look at Jake, who mouths, "Monroe." 

The room falls silent, all eyes on Steve as he puts the phone to his ear. You move closer, your hand finding his as he speaks. 

"Senator Monroe," Steve says, his voice steady despite the surprise evident in his eyes. "Yes, sir." 

You can't hear the other side of the conversation, but you watch the play of emotions across your husband's face—surprise, respect, and finally a humbled gratitude. His hand tightens around yours. 

"Washington and Oregon both?" Steve asks, looking at Jake for confirmation. Jake nods vigorously. 

"That's very generous of you, Senator," Steve continues. "But the math isn't certain yet. We're still shy of two-seventy, and you’ll surely take your home state of California. There's no need to—"

He pauses, listening intently. His eyebrows rise in surprise, and you can see a new emotion settle across his features—respect.

"I appreciate that, Senator, truly," Steve says, his voice softer now. "But with California's fifty-four votes and maybe Nevada still in play, you could potentially—"

He falls silent again, listening. 

"That's... very gracious of you," Steve responds after a moment. "I've always respected your commitment to this country as well, sir." 

The room has gone completely still, everyone holding their breath as they piece together what's happening. Jake's eyes are wide, his fingers frantically tapping on his tablet as he runs calculations. 

"Yes, sir. I understand," Steve continues. "Thank you, Senator Monroe.” He pauses again. “Expect to hear from me soon. I mean it.”

When Steve ends the call, he stands motionless for a moment, his expression one of stunned disbelief. The room around you is utterly silent, everyone waiting with bated breath.

"Monroe just conceded," Steve says finally, his voice carrying across the suddenly silent room. "He just called to tell me he's about to make the announcement publicly."

The room erupts in gasps and exclamations. Jake is crunching numbers on his phone frantically. "With Washington and Oregon bring you twenty more, getting you to two hundred and fifty-three," he announces, voice cracking with excitement. "That's seventeen short of the magic number, but—"

"But even if he takes his home state, Monroe sees he can’t win anymore," Bucky interrupts, still looking stunned. 

Sam steps forward, champagne forgotten in his hand. "What about Peterson?"

"Monroe thinks Peterson won't concede until all the votes are counted," Steve explains, running a hand over his beard. "But he won’t take California, and there aren’t enough big counts left to get him to two-seventy.”

Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel it in your ears. "So what does that mean exactly?"

Jake's face breaks into a wide grin, his eyes shining with emotion. "It means," he says slowly, savoring each word, holding up his phone with an electoral map, "even with California going blue, Monroe only gets to one hundred twenty-one electoral votes. Peterson can't possibly break two hundred at this point. Steve, we're looking at two-seventy plus."

"God," Steve whispers, turning to you with a look of wonder that makes your heart stutter. "This is actually happening."

You grasp his hands, speechless, as the enormity of the moment washes over you. Your husband—your real, chosen husband as of ten minutes ago—is about to become the President of the United States. 

The room erupts again, this time in a cacophony of cheers and sobs. Sam wraps Steve in a bear hug, lifting him slightly off the ground. Bucky stands back, shaking his head in wonder before moving in for his own embrace. Your mother is crying openly now, your father's arm tight around her shoulders as they beam with pride.

But all you can see is Steve's face—the mixture of disbelief, humility, and determination that washes over his features as the reality sinks in. The man who woke up from the ice to find his country changed, who fought to protect it even when it turned against him, who stood up for what he believed in no matter the cost—that man is now going to lead the nation he has always served.

"We need to get you changed back from groom to presidential and then back downstairs," Jake says, already shifting into logistics mode. "They'll be expecting a victory speech soon in Central Park."

Steve nods, but his eyes never leave yours. In this whirlwind of history being made, he reaches for you. "Come with me?" he asks, and though it's phrased as a question, you both know there's only one answer.

"Always," you reply, taking his hand. 

NEXT PART: Epilogue

Well, well, well. Looks like someone named Aspen finally brought this story to an end.

There will be an epilogue, yes, and I have some deleted scenes as well as a moment or two for future President and First Lady Rogers that I want to share with you still and maybe a spin-off series, but HERE WE ARE!

AND

I HAVE FINAL RESULTS FOR YOU VISUALLY!

I used the 270towin interactive map, and it doesn't have a green option, but here's how the votes officially shook out in the end.

A candidate only needed 34% in ANY given state in order to claim the majority and get the electoral votes for that state, and the more I thought about it, the more I felt like Steve could win. When I started the story, I thought it was more likely that there'd be no clear winner the night of elections, but with the unrest after the Blip and the Return, with Steve's ability to speak and connect with people, and with the photo scandal being exposed and exploited as a pretty cheap gimmick, I felt like any voters who were slightly on the fringes of still voting red or blue would be willing to say enough is enough and go for an inspiring figure like Steve. Tired of the system, but not voting for an option that wanted to burn the system and smash it to pieces, you know? Steve genuinely wants to do good.

And we get to have a happy ending in fiction. I felt like it was self-indulgent, but then @stargazingfangirl18 helped me NOT to feel guilty giving us a happy political future since we don't get to have one in real life.

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

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

[shineebble]

[250518] 🐥

*picture* (8:48pm)

ahhhhhhhh (8:48pm)

everyone please cover your ears and don’t look..🫠(8:49pm)

the wind must have been blowing really hard to the left (8:50pm)

phew…it’s over (8:52pm)

the wind must have came from below for minho hyung (8:53pm)

the origin of flaming charisma (8:53pm)

minho hyung is cool but really can’t watch..🫠 (8:54pm)

ahhhh😳🫢🔥(8:55pm)

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 (8:56pm)

ㅎㅋㅎㅋㅎㅋ i remember key hyung and krystal (7:56pm)

the stage of people good at English (8:57pm)

me being in krystal’s place was just a dream..? right?? (8:57pm)

ㅋㅋㅋㅋay yo~~ (9:00pm)

jonghyun hyung’s voice is coming through the screen really wellㅎㅎ (9:02pm)

onew hyung’s voice is also really pretty ㅎㅎ (9:03pm)

I was so young 🫣 (9:04pm)

We used to jumped quite a lot (9:04pm)

oh it’s been a really long time since I’ve seen this vcr.. (9:05pm)

ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋah (9:05pm)

Taemin (9:06pm)

stop it Taemin (9:06pm)

[thewayitalknj]

Set in the GGG!Universe Word Count - 942 Warnings - Mention of sex but nothing is detailed.

7:41am. 

Early mornings were never easy, but Eddie staying the night always made it worthwhile. And now that he has his own key to your place he never left. Surprise visits were your favorite when working. Sometimes you would come home from Family Video and he would be sitting on your couch watching TV ; Sometimes you would come home late at night from The Club, you would find him sleeping in your bed while waiting for you. There was no better feeling than climbing in and having him wrap his arms around you, asking half drowsy how your night went and that he was happy to see you.

You wanted to scream at the top of your lungs “PLEASE MOVE IN” but still felt it was too far of a stretch. You were happy in your relationship but still had doubts about moving too quickly.

You sat at your dining room table munching on some cereal. It was your day off, and they were normally spent running errands or just taking some time for yourself ; Eddie taught music lessons at Ralph’s Record Shop on Sunday’s and was rushing around getting everything together.

“I wish you had off today.” You say as he enters the room.

“Same, but duty calls and the kids need me.”

“Now you sound like a superhero.” He chuckles at your comment, coming over and kissing you on the cheek.

“I’ll be back for my lunch break.” He grabs his keys and opens the door, “I love you.”

“Love you too.” He shuts the door. 

7:51am. It’s only been 10 minutes but it suddenly felt like time froze. You stop eating ; Eddie stops dead in his tracks out in the hallway.

I love you. That was the first time you both said I love you.

You look back up at the door as he unlocks and reenters the apartment. 

Pointing back and forth between you both, he stutters, “Did we, did we just…” He takes his voice down to a whisper, “say it?” 

“Yeah…I think…yeah we did.”

“Holy shit.”

“Holy shit indeed.” You get up and meet him at the door ; Eddie hasn’t even moved, still in shock. “Did…you…mean it?” You ask, hesitantly.

“Of course I meant it, did you mean it? Or did you say it because I said it?”

You laugh, shaking your head ; “No no of course I meant it!”

He lets out a long sigh and brings you in, “Thank god, I couldn’t hold that in any longer.” You squeeze him tight, trying to find a way to wake up from this dream. He kisses the top of your head and rocks you in his arms. “I really hate that I have work now.” 

“It’s fine, we’ll find a way to celebrate later tonight.” You perk your head back up, looking at him with wishful eyes.

“I like the sound of that.” He kisses you one last time before letting you go and heading back out, “Love you.”

“Love you.” As he shuts the door for the second time you jump and squeal, picking up the nearest pillow and screaming into it, full force of excitement. 

Eddie gets in his car and starts driving to work, drumming to the latest hit on the radio. When he enters the store Garth looks at him, raising one eyebrow, “you’re exceptionally happy this morning.”

8:07pm.

You were out food shopping when Eddie came home on his lunch break, so the festivities had to wait until he came home from work ; but the moment he walked through the door you threw yourself at him and almost knocked your dinner out of his arms.

Your favorite take-out meals from Enzo’s wafted through the air and covered up your coffee table as you ate together. Your first meal after saying I love you ; you would think it would feel just as normal as any other dinner but this one just felt different.

Everything seemed to feel different that night, but in the best way possible. The way he rubbed your arm so delicately as you cuddled after eating. The way you soothed the soap over his body when showering together. The way you made love, slowly and passionately repeating I love you as a mantra over and over. Floating on air has never felt this good.

11:52pm

You’re both laying in bed, fingers intertwined while music plays softly in the background. You haven’t left your bedroom in hours ; tangled up in the sheets with longingness, never wanting the night to end. 

You speak softly into the dimly lit room, “When did you know?”

“Hm?”

“When did you realize you were in love with me?”

He sighs, making himself more comfortable. “Honestly, it’s been awhile. One night I was watching you make dinner for us ; I took one look at ya, you looked back up and smiled at me…and I…just knew.” You blush. “What about you?” He pulls you closer, your head resting on his shoulder.

“I mean, it’s been a bit for me too. Bianca came in with her family to check out some movies. Her daughter started talking to me about princesses and shit. She asked if I’ve ever fallen in love like in a Disney movie and I simply said yes, that I was in love right now. Didn’t even hesitate. Bianca gave me a look and that’s when I realized what I admitted.”

Eddie smiles, bringing his hand to your cheek to face him, “I love you.”

“And I love you.” You kiss for probably the hundredth time that night, as he sinks you back down into the mattress to showcase how much he loves you yet again.

[shadowkoo]

What Friends Are For

→ Summary: When your closest friend confides in you with something truly surprising, it's only natural to step in and offer your assistance, because that's what true friends do, right?

↠ vernon x f.reader | 2.8k words | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, best friends, friends to lovers, virgin/first time au

→ Warnings: explicit & unprotected sex, oral sex (male & female receiving), handjob, doggy, language, creampie, jealousy, teasing, slightly dominant!vernon, virgin!vernon, riding, breast play, nipple play, dirty talk, fingering, rough sex, deep dicking, hair pulling, begging, cum swallowing, deep throating

→ Author note: This is an updated version of an old fic of mine, I hope you enjoy it!!! If you’d like to read this on ao3 instead it’s been crossposted here! As always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated <3

⋆˙⟡ m.list ⟡⋆⟡ ao3 ⟡⋆⟡ wips ⟡⋆⟡ updates ⟡⋆⟡ shadow realm ⟡˙⋆

“You can’t be serious!” you burst out laughing, sharing a dumbfounded look with your best friend. You’re at his apartment and he just finished telling you the most ridiculous thing ever. You chuckle again while you continue to look for a movie to watch. “You are such a liar.”

“I’m dead serious, don’t laugh,” Vernon huffs, “You have no idea what it’s like having to pretend with the guys like I know what I’m talking about.”

“Oh please, I know you’ve watched porn before and I still don’t believe that you’ve never at least gotten a blowjob before.” He can’t be a virgin. And you seriously doubt he’s made it to twenty-five without ever having his knob slobbered on.

“Well, it’s true! So just let it go,” he barks. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

You look over to see if he’s just playing with you, he has to be. But you’re surprisingly shocked to see that he genuinely looks upset.

Realizing you hit a nerve, you apologize. “I’m sorry, I guess I just can’t believe it.” You click on a random movie to ease the awkwardness and decide to text your friends.

♡y/n♡: okie serious question, who wants to blow vern [7:50 pm]

♡cee♡: askjlasjdflkj !! [7:50 pm]

♡mal♡: giiiirl what are you on [7:50 pm]

♡y/n♡: he’s feeling down, someone’s gotta take one for the team [7:50 pm]

♡anna♡:: 👀 …. [7:51 pm]

♡anna♡: KIDDING [7:51 pm]

♡anna♡: but on a real note, why can’t you?? [7:51 pm]

♡y/n♡: ur joking right [7:51 pm]

♡cee♡: yeah you do it, i’m busy rn [7:51 pm]

♡cee♡: plus we all know he wants none of us [7:52 pm]

♡mal♡: lmao truuu [7:52pm]

♡y/n♡: what’s that supposed to mean?? [7:52 pm]

♡mal♡: idk why don’t u suck on ur boyfriend [7:52 pm]

♡mal♡: sorry i mean boy FRIEND [7:52 pm]

♡mal♡: major emphasis on the friend [7:52 pm]

♡y/n♡: i hate you guys [7:52 pm]

♡anna♡: no u don’t, now grow a pair of balls and play with his [7:52 pm]

♡y/n♡: OMG [7:53 pm]

♡cee♡: ur with him, aren’t you? sounds like the perfect time to do it [7:53 pm]

♡anna♡: and let us know after how it was 😏 and size, we’re all curious [7:53 pm]

You set your phone down intentionally upside down so Vernon can’t see the messages. At one point, you did have feelings for him but you pushed them aside in fear of ruining your friendship. How pathetic is that? Peeking over at him, you wonder if those feelings ever actually went away, or if you’ve been pretending this whole time.

He’s very attractive, that’s obvious. The last time you thought about your feelings for Vernon was about a year ago when he started dating this horrible girl. She was awful, but he was trapped under her spell and it drove you two apart. Back then, you thought that it was for the best since you wouldn’t have had the courage to tell him to break up with her and date you instead.

They dated for almost 6 months, and when they broke up Vernon was devastated. It didn’t take long for your friendship to go back to normal after their time apart, so that’s why you didn’t want to take any chances now.

Those 6 months without him were miserable and you didn’t want to live without Vernon in your life again. He was too special to you to let something as silly as old feelings come between your friendship. You don’t want to mess it up.

But on the other hand, you’ve heard friendships often create the best relationships. Would yours?

Vernon cares for you, that’s a given. But how far does it go? Sure, you two pretty much act like you’re in a relationship, but you haven’t kissed. Other than that one time when you brought drunk Vernon home… but that didn’t count because he was trashed at the time and didn’t remember it, or so you told yourself.

If you are ever going to make a move, now is the time. Do you really want to lose another chance that the universe is obviously lining you up for? Why else would he bring up the fact that he’s never had a blowjob unless he secretly wants you to give him one? Does he want more than a blowjob? Does he want you to…take his virginity?

You force yourself to quit overthinking and muster up enough courage to ask, “Vern?”

“Hmm?” he responds. He’s so caught up in the movie you’re watching that he doesn’t seem to notice you sit up and scoot closer to him. Your hands are shaking but you aren’t going to let that stop you.

‘God, what am I doing? This is so embarrassing…’

“Can I…” You mumble nervously, not being able to finish the sentence.

“Can you what?” He asks back, still not really registering what you are about to say.

’Well,’ you think to yourself, ’It’s now or never.’

You move off the couch to kneel in front of him and rest a hand on his thigh, commanding his attention away from the TV screen.

“Please, let me.”

It takes Vernon less than a second to understand exactly what you’re asking and he has no idea how to respond.

If he’s being honest, he’s always had a thing for you. Though he’s never had the guts to make a move or even admit it to you.

He swallows nervously as his length inevitably twitches in his pants. “You’re joking right?” ‘She can’t be serious. There’s no way. This had to be some kind of sick joke. But you don’t look like you were joking. In fact, you look like you’re pleading. Holy shit…’

“Not at all. I mean, we’re friends, right? Friends help each other,” you say while sliding your hands up to the button of his jeans. His eyes follow your movements as you unzip his pants and reach a hand in.

“You really don’t have to. Mingyu’s having a party and I’ll find someone and get laid this week-” his words are lost in his mouth as you wrap your small hand around his rather growing member.

“Why would you want a stranger to do it when you could have me? That’s what friends are for, silly.” You’re trying your damn hardest to make it sound like you’re doing him a favor as a friend and not doing this out of your own desire, your own need to touch him - to taste him. It’s your safety net in case he says no. In case this ends badly. However, you aren’t so sure that’s the message you’re sending since you’re quickly pulling his pants down his thighs.

You look up at him and run a finger over his tip before bringing him into your mouth for a taste. “Before I continue, I need to hear you say that you’re alright with it. Tell me that you want my mouth on your cock,” you demand playfully while your hands stroke his length.

Vernon is at war with himself. Should he give in to his desire of wanting you? Or should he pull back, laugh this off, and forget about this? How the hell is he supposed to forget about this? To forget the look of you on your knees asking to suck him off? There’s no way. It’s impossible.

“Fuck,” Vernon rubs a hand over his face and you freeze in fear of what he’s going to say. “Babe, you can do whatever you want to me. Fuck.”

Without hesitating a second longer, you lean down to take him in between your lips. His girth stretches your mouth in the most wonderful way, and you’re unable to control the moan that escapes from your parted lips. God, you aren’t even embarrassed. You lift your eyes up to watch him, his mouth ever so slightly opens and his tongue drifts out to lick his lips.

Vernon is lost. Is he supposed to hold your hair? Is he just supposed to sit here and watch? Should he be praising you right now? He has absolutely no idea. All he knows is that what you’re doing with your mouth is driving him crazy. “Oh my god, this is what I’ve been missing out on? This whole time?” Vernon leans his head back in pleasure. “Fuck,” he gasps, “I have a lot to catch up on.”

Hearing his words gives you more courage, and you relentlessly bob your head on his length, making sure to have just enough suction while doing so.

You pull back for air and let your hands tug on him while you kiss his tip, listening happily to his husky groans. Honestly, this is the best part of giving a blowjob. Knowing that you can make a guy, let alone Vernon, feel this good. You feel him twitch in your mouth and moan in pleasure. Drool is running onto your hands at this point, proof of how much you like his taste.

Vernon smirks, “I don’t know who’s enjoying this more. You,” he quickly inhales as you shove your mouth further down onto his length, “Or me.”

You slowly pull your mouth off of him, watching his face twist as you tease the underside of his tip with your tongue. “I don’t know, the look on your face tells me that you’re enjoying this a lot,” you taunt.

His legs quiver as his length once again finds the back of your throat, your hands massaging his balls. It’s too much. He has to cum, he can’t wait.

Wanting to help him out, you hum and instantly feel the sticky liquid running down your throat. Your hunger grows listening to Vernon call out your name, his hand pulling at the hair by your neck.

He watches in wonder while you swallow him, licking some of his seed off his length when you release him from your mouth. You lift a finger to rub the remaining cum around his tip, “You came.” Vernon shudders while you tease his sensitive member.

“Shit, Y/N,” he whimpers, “I couldn’t hold it any longer; not when you were doing that last thing.”

“I hope you’re not tired because I am so not done with you yet,” you whisper. You had a taste of him, and now you want more. You want all of him, and you don’t want to wait another second.

The lingering salty aftertaste in your mouth is washed away by Vernon's kiss as he pulls you up onto his lap. He lifts your shirt up and off of you, barely breaking contact with your lips in the process, before he takes off his own in the same manner.

Your hands rub along his chest, feeling his muscles tighten and relax as your touch moves along his silky skin. His head dips down to catch one of your breasts in his mouth. You roll your head back as his tongue plays with your hardening nub, a gasp leaving you when his teeth graze your nipple.

Your head snaps up when he pulls away from you.

He chuckles, “Relax, it’s time for me to return the favor.” He leaves a wet kiss on your other breast and moves down to nibble on the inner part of your thighs. After what feels like years, his hands reach for the waistband of your shorts and pull them and your panties off of you.

His tongue protrudes out and licks your center before moving closer to your clit, which he circles and sucks on gently at first. His mouth on your heat pulls moan after moan out of you, and you involuntarily take a fistful of his blonde locks when his tongue enters you repeatedly.

Vernon pulls back all out of breath and his cheeks glistening. God, it’s such a turn on to see him like that, his face damp with your cum. He reaches for you at the same time you grab for him. His lips crash against yours, your tongues twisting with each other.

Vernon slides a hand back down between your naked bodies and rubs your sensitive clit, making your back arch in pleasure. You moan into his mouth which he gladly swallows before sliding two fingers into your dripping heat, bringing you right back to where you just were. Only this time, your juices cover his long fingers instead of his face.

Just as you finish riding out your amazing orgasm, Vernon starts to sit up. Although, your hands are wrapped around his neck so he doesn’t make it that far. You pull him back down onto you, which he isn’t ready for. His knee falls next to yours, his other foot landing on the floor, causing his length to rub right up against your wet heat.

You both gasp at the contact, but it isn’t enough for you. Your hand moves to grip his member and bring him further between your lower lips, your hips moving along with his - until he hesitates, his eyes full of worry…

Vernon bites his bottom lip as you ask, “What is it?”

“I don’t know if we should go any further. I don’t have protection,” he explains.

“Oh Vernon, I don’t care. I need to feel you.” You kiss him again. “I’m on birth control anyway. I need you inside me,” you finish before gripping his hair to pull him closer to you. “Fuck me, Vernon. Fuck me hard, please,” you beg, “It’s all I’ve dreamt about. I need your thick cock stretching me out. Please, Vernon,”

Vernon almost dies hearing you say that. Shit, he’s dreamt about this moment too, and watching you beg him to fuck you like that made his length twitch with excitement. There is no way in hell he’s going to say no to you after hearing that. He leans in to kiss you hard before dipping his tip into your dewy folds. He’s being too gentle for your liking, typical Vernon behavior, so you push him to sit up and lean against the back of the couch, yourself following, and slide the rest of the way down onto him.

It takes you a moment to collect yourself before rolling your hips into his. Once you’re ready, you anchor yourself by holding onto his shoulders and he lifts his hips up to meet your delicious pace.

Your arousal soaks his member as he slides deep inside you. It’s a perfect fit, he hit all the right places and has you squirming in his arms.

“Oh my god, Vernon!” you whine, gyrating your hips to bring some relief to your aching bundle of nerves. Sweat covers both of your bodies as you fuck each other. The pleasure is almost unbearable; your insides scream for release.

As if he knows exactly what you want, Vernon flips you over and squeezes your ass cheeks before he enters you from behind. You push your face into the throw pillow below your head and grip the sofa’s arm for dear life.

“Oh god, don’t s-stop,” you drag out while he ferociously pounds into you. Vernon groans and hovers over top of you. His hand wraps around your neck and pulls your back against him.

This new angle has you shivering and Vernon can tell that you’re close again. His other hand wraps around your waist, pulling you down onto him harder. The sound of your arousal echoes through his living room, your breaths combining with the creaks of his couch.

You feel Vernon stiffen inside you, he’s close. “Cum in me. I want to feel you cum in me,” you sigh, begging for him to do so.

Vernon grits his teeth, there’s nothing he wants more than to fill you up with his cum right this second. Your legs clench as you tip over the edge. The climax hits you both instantaneously and sends you spiraling.

“Oh my god, oh god!” you cry out. Wave after wave of pleasure passes through your limp body. Thankfully Vernon is still holding onto you or you would have fallen off the couch. Resting against him, your breathing matches his.

His delicate touch leaves goosebumps along your body where his fingers trace. Everywhere tingles. You can’t remember the last time that you came this hard. It’s earth-shattering, exhausting, and yet you feel totally full of new energy at the same time.

Vernon’s cum starts leaking out of your folds, it’s a strange feeling. This is the first time you let someone cum in you and it felt oddly satisfying. Vernon reaches over to the coffee table and grabs a tissue to clean you up with before laying back down on the couch, bringing you on top of him.

“Jesus,” He pants, still completely out of breath, “Where the fuck did that come from.”

“I don’t know but I’ll be needing more of that when I wake up,” you moan, your eyelids feeling awfully heavy. Vernon’s chest vibrates, laughing at your response. He puts an arm around your waist as he whispers, “Thank you, for… well you know. That.”

“Mmm, no problem.” You turn your head over to look up at him and smile devilishly, “That’s what friends are for, remember?”

⋆˙⟡ m.list ⟡⋆⟡ ao3 ⟡⋆⟡ wips ⟡⋆⟡ updates ⟡⋆⟡ shadow realm ⟡˙⋆

©shadowkoo 2023. All rights reserved.

[stealanity]

playlist one , the boyz ( lsg to kvm ) :

ꕤ lee sangyeon ,

someone

⠀

[ 7:02am ]

[ 5:12pm ]

[ 6:14am ]

⠀

ꕤ bae jacob ,

summer love

birthday cake

melatonin

co-lover

white lily

⠀

ꕤ kim younghoon ,

corny jokes

reassuring hands

kinda miss you

i didn't forget

⠀

[ 1:02am ]

[ 2:45am ]

⠀

ꕤ lee hyunjae ,

suffocating ( written serie , discontinued )

this special look

stay

waffle

loser, lover

crazy

too late

only for practice

⠀

[ 9:32am ]

[ 4:35pm ]

[ 10:37pm ]

⠀

ꕤ lee juyeon ,

his s/o waking up in the middle of the night

cute little intruder

bad day, but good boyfriend

daydream

terrible idea

the bet

cold hands

risky

sick of you

⠀

[ 5:34pm ]

[ 10:45pm ]

[ 7:52pm ]

[ 8:57pm ]

⠀

ꕤ moon kevin ,

bad words

the little prince

⠀

[ 3:37pm ]

[ 11:23am ]

⠀

. . . link to maknae line !

[crippled-peeper]

birds are so funny. I hear a cardinal on my patio eating peanuts. it’s 7:52pm and fully dark out

[violetfractal]

What I’m up to: I wanted to render blueprints for a 3D Menger sponge, but my 3D rendering method outputs pyramids instead. So, I came up with a 4D rendering method!

violet says: a pyramid is a 3D object with a square base. I want a 4D object (analogous to a pyramid) with a cube for a base.

Each row of slides is a successive state of the automaton. The 1st, 4th and final rows of the image give layer-by-layer blueprints for Menger sponges! The other rows are transitional forms.

violet says: you're looking at a 2D grid of 2D slices. you stack the slices along the z and w axes to make a 4D object.

Here’s the formula that makes the magic happen. Each cell chooses its value according to the sum mod 3 of the 20 elements in a wireframe cube surrounding its position in the previous iteration.

---------------------------------------

Original Date: July 1st, 2023 1:52pm

The sequel! Sponge iterations 13-26. I bumped the resolution up to 55x55 for each cross-section, so the entire spreadsheet is 1512x3024 cells, 27 megabytes, and takes north of 20 seconds for each refresh. Some absolutely gorgeous geometry on display here.

Iteration 14 layers 7-11

Iteration 17 layers 2-6

Iteration 17 layers 11-15

Iteration 23 layers 8-12

Iteration 25 layers 9-13

Iteration 26 Layers 6, 9, 12, 15 / 18, 21, 24, 27

[slimepuparibaba]

Chaos in Linkon Social Media AU [Rafayel's Birthday]

Part 2: Geoguessr

Two days left until Rafayel’s birthday aaaaaand… yeah, Raf might be losing it a bit.

NOTES:

This is all unofficial! Me and my friends made the script and I put this all together in Photoshop

This is an AU where the LIs know each other

Each LI also has a named MC so no one is left out or lonely!

Semi-OOC maybe probably

Originally posted on Twitter but the thread broke so WE DOING IT HERE NOW

Read each different part here!

Cast List and Part 1 | Part 2 (You're here!) | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | BONUS

Without further ado, leggo!!!

March 4th | 10:31AM (Linkon Time) | 3:31AM (Verona Time): Rafayel messaged Aria

March 4th | 2:44PM (Linkon Time) | 7:43 AM (Verona Time): Aria messaged Rafayel back!

March 4th | 3:01PM (Linkon Time) | 8:01 AM (Verona Time): Xavier made a post on his Moments!

March 4th | 3:12PM (Linkon Time) | 8:12 AM (Verona Time): Zayne made a post on his Moments!

March 4th | 3:18PM (Linkon Time) | 8:18 AM (Verona Time): Sylus made a post on his Moments!

March 4th | 3:24PM (Linkon Time) | 8:24 AM (Verona Time): Rafayel made a post on his Moments!

March 4th | 3:47PM (Linkon Time) | 8:47AM (Verona Time): Mei made a post on her Moments!

March 4th | 3:52PM (Linkon Time) | 8:52AM (Verona Time): Jasmine made a post on her Moments!

March 4th | 4:03PM (Linkon Time) | 9:03AM (Verona Time): Xavier made a post on his Moments!

March 4th | 4:07PM (Linkon Time) | 9:07AM (Verona Time): Xavier made another post on his Moments!

March 4th | 4:14PM (Linkon Time) | 9:14AM (Verona Time): Sylus made a post on his Moments!

March 4th | 4:45PM (Linkon Time) | 9:45AM (Verona Time): An exasperated Rafayel made a post on his Moments!

March 4th | 4:57PM (Linkon Time) | 9:57AM (Verona Time): Lilia made a post on her Moments

March 4th | 5:03PM (Linkon Time) | 10:03AM (Verona Time): Rafayel’s eating dinner alone…

<- BACK — END OF PART 2 — NEXT ->

[sunflawyer]

i miss interacting w my mutuals !! hi friends!!! (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡ how are youuuu!!!

what time is it there ...! its 7:52pm here right now.. uwaa... wawawa...

[73lesbiansinfandoms]

The amount of brain power that I had to use to do all the mental calculations of birthdays, and headcannons and how long Remus is pregnant for, was actual insane but I have a list of names.

Thank you to @read-reblog-repeat , @toburnawitch , @mexicanpadfoot , and @the-neptune-system for the name segestions. I've tried to include them as much as possible

Baby 1, Sirius look alike:

Name: Leo Sirius Bllu

Born: Male

Birthday: 31st of October 1980

Conceived on the day Harry was born

Baby 2, James look alike:

Name: Polaris Remus Bllu

Born: Male

Birthday: August 31st 1981

Conceived mid July

“A peg that holds the world together.”

Baby 3, Peter look alike:

Name: Ceres Hope Bllu

Born: Female

Birthday: May 3rd 1982

Conceived on Remus’ birthday

Trans ftm, figures it out at around 10-12

Baby 4, Barty look alike:

Name: Atlas Regulus Bllu

Born: Male

Birthday: April 15th 1985

Conceived early January

Baby 5, Lily look alike:

Name: Lucida Minerva Bllu

Born: Female

Birthday: December 11th 1985

Conceived early September

Baby 6, Lily look alike:

Name: Diana Poppy Bllu

Born: Female

Birthday: December 11th 1985

Conceived early September

Baby 7, Remus look alike:

Name: Ajax Peter Bllu

Born: Male

Birthday: September 22nd 1986

Time: 11:47pm

Conceived at the end of April

Baby 8, Remus look alike:

Name: Alphard Lilian Bllu

Born: Male

Birthday: September 22nd 1986

Time: 11:52pm

Conceived at the end of April

Baby 9, Remus look alike:

Name: Mars Roseo Bllu

Born: Male

Birthday: September 22nd 1986

Time: 11:56pm

Conceived at the end of April

Baby 10, Remus look alike:

Name: Hadar James Bllu

Born: Male

Birthday: September 23rd 1986

Time: 12:02am

Conceived at the end of April

(I'm still not entirely sure about Hadar's birthdate, so please give me your opinion on it.)

[remembertheplunge]

Embrace Your Death

The following is taken from one of my 2020 journals:

3/13/2020

“There seems to be much less suffering for those who live life in the wholeness that includes death." From the book “Who Dies?” Page 5 by Stephan and Ondrea Lavine

End of entry.

Following is my margin note to the above quote:

Preservation Coffee House employee friend of mine just said that people are acting oddly because they don’t know what to do. Nate S. orated details of Covid denial. Jeff H. And Jared B. simply say there’s nothing to worry about.

No one, media included, says “Embrace your death.” It’s all about survival. But, survival to what? Ultimate extinction. So, try living in the wholeness that includes death. I could die from Covid 19. So could you. Embrace the possibility.

The AIDs days inform and counsel this pandemic life. 

 May 7, 2020 Thursday 2:52pm.

[faunandfloraas]

You know shits been heccers when Seungmin hasn't even gotten to think about dinner until 7:52pm

[cricketnationrise]

For the ficlet fest (congrats on 500!):

7:52 pm

the weight room

Jack Zimmermann

Rating: M

(Doggernaut/rabbitrunnah)

oooooh this was really fun to write, thanks for the prompt! i hope you enjoy senior year jack thirsting over bitty as much as i do <3

want your own ficlet? my followers can submit their own prompts using these guidelines through Jan 31, 2024.

🏒🏒🏒🏒

7:52pm, weight room

Jack tries to catch his breath before his last set of leg presses. 

There’s something immensely satisfying about weight-lifting days. It’s straightforward; more weight, more reps, diversifying exercises—it all works together to translate to better performance on the ice: more power, more breakaway sprints, more goals. A simple A plus B equals C. Jack’s favorite kind of math.

Once, not that long ago, weight training days would have been solely about maintaining the perfect form, strict adherence to his own ridiculous goals, pushing his body to keep going, to be better, to go right up to the limit of what was possible—and then past it, regardless of all the warnings his coaches, his parents, his teammates, even his own mind were giving him.

But now Jack’s in a better place, he’s got more support, so he can just lose himself in the repetitive motion, the sensation of sweat down his back, the clean exertion of pushing his body in a healthy way.

Or, he could, if he wasn’t so distracted.

It isn’t Jack’s fault that the leg press machine faces the mirrors. It isn’t Jack’s fault that there’s a clear view of the hip adductor machine in said mirrors. And it certainly isn’t Jack’s fault that Bittle is ahead of him in the circuit, on said hip adductor machine, in said mirrors.

…But it might be Jack’s fault that he can’t stop watching.

Despite his size, Bittle’s always been strong. That much had been obvious from the way he could skate suicides for an hour, the way he could hurl his body so high into the air and spin, the way he could whip a meringue by hand without pausing, or switching hands. He’d been surprisingly dense when Jack had pushed him into the boards during checking practice last year, Jack’s attention caught by how Bittle’s muscles were highlighted as much as his haircut in the sunlight when he’d moved into the Haus this summer.

Bittle’s strength is glaringly obvious right now.

The mirror provides an optimal view for Jack as he rests before his last set. Bittle’s perched on the seat, hands on the grips behind him for balance. His brow is furrowed, and the collar of his shirt dark with sweat from the effort from today. For once, he’s not singing or humming or bouncing along to the music in his headphones; Bittle’s breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth carefully, measured, timing his exhales with every time he manages to bring his knees together. Jack’s whole being is focused on the way Bittle’s thighs flex as he pushes them from spread wide to knees touching and back again. Over and over. All of Bittle is glistening with sweat from the exertion under the fluorescent lights and Jack— 

Jack has a sudden, visceral, all-consuming urge to taste. To run his hands from Bittle’s delicate ankles, up his calves. To hold Bittle’s thighs open wide with his shoulders so he can get his hands on his hips, his waist, his ass. To take his time, sucking the sweat from Bittle’s thighs hard enough to leave a line of bruises in his wake, before moving higher. To lick the sweat from the crease where his thigh meets his hip. To chase the drops of Bittle’s precome with his tongue. To take Bittle’s cock with his mouth, all the way to the hilt, before pulling Bittle’s hand to his own hair, encourage him to move Jack exactly how he wants, to take—

The resounding clang of Bittle’s weight stack yanks Jack out of the fantasy.

Câlisse de tabarnak—he’s in the middle of a workout, he can’t be getting distracted by a teammate of all people, and especially not Bittle. Jack depends on their hard-won friendship too much to ever even entertain the possibility—

Jack stands, busies himself with adding more weight to his own machine for his last set, determined to keep his eyes off the mirror, off of Bittle as he bustles around the machine, gathering his water bottle, bending over to wipe the seat down, ass facing the mirror—

It’ll be fine. Bittle will finish cleaning the machine. He’ll move on to the next stop in the circuit, to the machine that’s directly behind the hip adductor. Completely obscured from Jack’s view, and Jack will be able to finish his leg presses without getting distracted.

Bittle catches his eye in the mirror and gives him a small smile and a salute before bouncing off to the next machine and Jack—

Jack better do two more sets, just to be safe.

[salem-the-puppet]

Going to bed

Good night

-Puppet out 7:52pm