#flashback to birthday festivities

[stephloverrrr]

[nezoid]

Happiest birthday Jenna Ortega! 🥳🎂🎉♥️

Have an amazing day! ☺️

More video from Miller’s Girl Q&A at Palm Springs International Film Festival here:

[brunchable]

Winter King, Chapter 8: Bad Blood

Pairings: King AU Bucky Barnes x Queen!Reader Themes: Royaltycore AU, love and power, arranged Marriage, georgian/regency era misogyny, profanity. Warning: Talks of assasination. Summary: Tensions rise as everything begins to unravel. A/N: It's here. It might feel a bit boring since this is focusing on the more serious stuff. I didn't want to go into detail though, because everything seem to be straight forward about who the bad guys are and their intensions. The first few part is a flashback and will be in 3rd person since I find it weird to be in a pov of a six y/o. Uhhh i might've miss people who wanted to be tagged. Sorry? I really need to post a form lol. Also not thoroughly reviewed, so all mistakes/inconsistencies are all on me.

The sun bathed the Zienna palace gardens in a warm, golden glow, casting long shadows across the lush greenery. It was Y/N’s sixth birthday, and the celebration was as grand as it was beautiful. The scent of jasmine filled the air, mingling with the laughter of children and the murmur of noble guests who had gathered from across the realm to honor the princess.

Amid the festivities, Y/N stood in her lavender gown, twirling absentmindedly as she waited for her mother, Queen Seraphina, to finish speaking with one of the advisors. Her father, King Marc, was nearby, engaged in conversation with a pair of visitors—two regal figures, their posture straight, exuding an air of quiet authority.

“Y/N, come here, darling,” her mother called softly, her graceful hand motioning for her to approach. Y/N immediately perked up and hurried over, her small steps light as she reached her parents.

Standing beside the queen and king were two young boys, about eleven years old, each dressed in fine clothing that marked them as nobility from a distant kingdom. They stood tall, though their expressions were contrasting—one with a warm, open smile, and the other with a reserved, watchful gaze.

“Y/N, we have some special guests,” her mother said gently, her eyes filled with love as she introduced the boys. “This is James, and his twin brother, Isaac. They have traveled a long way to join us for your birthday.”

King Marc placed a reassuring hand on Y/N’s shoulder, his voice rich and silky. “Their father is an old friend of mine, from the northern kingdom. It is an honor to have them here.”

Y/N looked up at the two boys, her eyes wide with curiosity. James, with his bright smile and calm demeanor, immediately put her at ease. He stepped forward, giving a slight bow, his manners polished beyond his years. “Happy birthday, Your Highness. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Y/N blushed slightly at the formality, offering a shy smile in return. “Thank you.”

Isaac, standing just behind his brother, offered a curt nod, his sharp blue eyes briefly meeting hers. Though he remained silent, there was an intensity in his gaze that Y/N found both intriguing and intimidating.

“Why don’t you three go play?” Queen Seraphina suggested kindly, glancing toward the gardens. “The other children are by the fountain, and there are plenty of games.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, glancing up at her father. King Marc gave her a reassuring nod. “Go on, darling. Have fun.”

James offered his hand to Y/N, his smile widening as he led the way toward the garden. Isaac followed closely behind, his steps measured and composed, though his eyes never stopped scanning their surroundings.

As they walked deeper into the garden, Y/N’s initial shyness began to melt away. The gentle rustling of leaves and the bubbling sound of the fountain made the space feel like their own secret world, separate from the grandeur of the palace behind them.

Birds sang in the trees, their melodies adding to the soft laughter of children playing near the fountain. Y/N, her lavender gown fluttering as she walked, led James and Isaac through the garden paths.

As they wandered away from the main celebration, Isaac finally broke the silence, his voice casual but carrying that sharp edge of curiosity. 

“James is going to be king one day, you know,” he said, glancing at his brother with a slight smirk.

Y/N looked up at Isaac, her brow furrowing in confusion. “King? What do you mean?”

Isaac’s smirk widened, and he nudged James with his elbow. “I overheard them talking about it. They said James will be king, and…” He paused, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “That you’re going to marry him.”

James’ face reddened slightly, and he shook his head quickly. “Isaac, stop. You shouldn’t listen to everything people say.”

But Isaac was undeterred. “I heard it clear as day. One of the advisors said that when James is king, he’ll need a queen, and who better than the Princess of Zienna?”

Y/N blinked, her mouth slightly agape at the idea. 

“Me? No, thank you,” she said firmly, shaking her head. “I want to stay here in Zienna, with my brother.”

Isaac chuckled, clearly amused by her reaction. “You don’t want to be queen?”

Y/N crossed her arms, her voice resolute. “No. My brother Marc is here. I’ll stay with him. I don’t want to leave Zienna, even for a crown.”

James, being polite, gave Y/N a gentle smile, though his cheeks were still tinged with pink. “You don’t have to marry me, Princess. You should do whatever makes you happy.”

Isaac raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. “But what if they try to make you?”

Y/N scrunched her nose, looking quite determined for a six-year-old. “Then I’ll say no. I’ll tell them I’m going to stay here forever with my brother, and no one can make me leave.”

James chuckled softly, but Isaac’s mischievous grin remained. “Well, you’ve got a lot of time to decide, I suppose.”

Y/N gave a confident nod, her resolve unshaken. “Exactly.”

As the three children continued to wander through the vibrant garden, young Y/N’s eyes sparkled as she admired the clusters of flowers swaying in the breeze. Her small fingers brushed over the soft petals of a nearby bloom, curiosity lighting her face.

James, standing a little ways behind, noticed the way she lingered on a patch of delicate white daisies. With the shy determination only an eleven-year-old could muster, he glanced toward Isaac, who was busy exploring the garden himself. Quietly, James crouched down and carefully picked one of the daisies, holding it gently in his hand.

With a quiet step, he approached Y/N. 

“Here,” he said, his voice a little hesitant but filled with sincerity. Before she could take the flower, James hesitated for a moment, then stepped closer, his movements careful and uncertain.

He held the daisy up, and with a boyish smile, he brushed back a loose strand of her hair. Gently, he tucked the flower behind her ear, his fingers barely touching her skin. 

“Now it looks perfect,” he whispered, his eyes darting between the flower and her face, as though making sure it was just right.

Y/N blinked up at him, her small hand reaching to feel the flower now tucked into her hair. Her cheeks warmed with surprise, and a smile tugged at her lips. “Thank you, James,” she whispered, her voice filled with the kind of simple, heartfelt gratitude that children often expressed.

James shrugged a little, trying to act casual, though his face flushed a deeper shade of pink. He scratched the back of his neck and looked down, suddenly feeling awkward. “It’s… nothing. I just thought it’d look nice,” he mumbled, kicking at the dirt with his shoe.

Y/N smiled brightly at him, her happiness infectious. “It does,” she said softly. “It’s really pretty.”

James looked at her again, his heart beating a little faster in his chest, but he nodded, his boyish confidence returning. “Good,” he said simply, but the warmth in his voice revealed more than the words did.

Isaac, having noticed the interaction from a few feet away, grinned to himself. He didn’t tease, though—something about the quiet sweetness between James and Y/N made him pause. He simply watched for a moment before turning back to his own wandering.

James glanced once more at Y/N, stealing a look at her with the flower in her hair. He felt proud, like he’d done something important, even if it was small. And as Y/N beamed up at him, that small, simple act felt like the most special thing in the world.

× × × × 

The soft notes of Queen Seraphina’s lullaby floated through the air, wrapping around the room like a warm blanket. Y/N’s eyelids grew heavy, lulled by the gentle melody her mother had always sung to her. As the last few notes faded into the evening, Queen Seraphina brushed a strand of hair away from Y/N’s forehead, smiling down at her daughter.

“Is that better, my darling?” Seraphina asked in a soft, tender voice.

Y/N nodded, her small fingers clutching the edges of her blanket. But there was a thoughtful look in her young eyes, something more than just sleepiness lingering behind them. After a moment of quiet, Y/N spoke up.

“Mama… what’s it like to be queen?” Her voice was curious, but there was an innocence to her question—a child’s simple wonder about the world.

Seraphina blinked, slightly taken aback by the question, but her smile never wavered. She gently stroked Y/N’s hair, her eyes thoughtful as she considered how to answer. 

“Well,” she began softly, “being queen is many things, my love. It’s a great honor, and with it comes much responsibility.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, listening intently.

“It means always thinking of others,” Seraphina continued softly. “Of the kingdom, of the people. You must be strong when others need you, even when you’re tired. You must be kind, but firm, and always fair, even when it’s difficult.” She paused, her gaze softening as she looked into her daughter’s wide eyes. “And sometimes, it means showing mercy to those who have wronged you.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed slightly, the concept of mercy still foreign to her young mind. “But… why would you be kind to someone who hurt you?”

Seraphina smiled gently, her hand brushing through Y/N’s hair in soothing strokes. “Because mercy is a strength, my darling. To punish is easy. But to offer mercy, even when your heart aches from the wrong done to you, takes great courage. It shows that you are not ruled by anger or vengeance, but by wisdom and compassion.”

She sighed softly, her eyes distant for a moment as if recalling her own struggles. “There will be times when people hurt you, betray you, or make you feel small. But as queen, it’s your duty to rise above that hurt and show grace where others would only see opportunity for retribution.”

Y/N’s eyes were wide with curiosity. “But won’t they do it again?”

“Perhaps,” Seraphina admitted. “But mercy doesn’t mean allowing someone to hurt you over and over. It means giving them a chance to change, to be better. And if they fail, you act as needed, but without letting cruelty taint your decisions. To be a queen is to understand that your strength lies not in how harshly you punish, but in how wisely you show compassion.”

She looked down at Y/N, her gaze softening. “But mercy, my love, is also a sacrifice. It requires you to set aside your pride and your pain for the greater good. And that,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “is what makes a true queen.”

Y/N nodded slowly, though the weight of her mother’s words still swirled in her young mind. She thought of Isaac’s earlier comment about marrying James, her confusion slowly giving way to a new understanding of the responsibilities that came with such titles.

Y/N’s eyes shone with wonder, but a flicker of concern crossed her small face. 

“Why do you ask, little one?” Seraphina asked gently, tilting her head with a knowing smile. “You seem very curious tonight.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then shyly glanced up at her mother. “Prince Isaac said… he said I’m supposed to marry James. He said I have to.”

Seraphina’s eyes widened in surprise, and then, much to Y/N’s confusion, she let out a soft, musical laugh. Her laughter was gentle, filled with love, as she shook her head slightly. 

“Oh, did he now?”

Y/N nodded earnestly. “Yes, Mama. He said that because James will be king, I’ll have to marry him.”

“Well, my darling, sometimes little princes have big ideas. But don’t you worry yourself about that just yet.” Seraphina chuckled again, her eyes twinkling with amusement. She leaned down and kissed Y/N’s forehead softly.

Y/N’s eyes, still wide with curiosity, searched her mother’s face. “But… do I have to, Mama?”

Seraphina smiled warmly, brushing her fingers through Y/N’s hair. “You’re still so young, my sweet one. Right now, all you need to do is enjoy being you. Who you marry, what path you take—that is for the future to decide.”

Y/N’s lips curved into a small, thoughtful smile. She shifted slightly under the blanket, her hand brushing against something tucked beneath her pillow—a small, delicate daisy that James had given her earlier in the day. She had held onto it all afternoon, not sure what to do with it, but when night had fallen, she had placed it under her pillow for safekeeping. Now, as her fingers brushed against the soft petals, she felt a warmth bloom in her chest. 

“I like staying here with you and Papa. I don’t want to leave.” Y/N murmured, her fingers gently closing around the flower.

Seraphina’s heart swelled with love for her daughter. She kissed Y/N’s forehead again, pulling the blanket up around her shoulders. “Then that’s all that matters right now,” she whispered. “You’ll always be our little girl, no matter where life takes you.”

Y/N’s eyes grew heavy again, the soothing sound of her mother’s voice lulling her toward sleep. Queen Seraphina stayed by her side, stroking her hair gently until Y/N’s breathing evened out and she drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

With a soft smile, Seraphina whispered one last time, “Sleep well, my love. You have plenty of time to decide who you’ll become.”

× × × × 

You sat on the balcony of your chambers, the soft evening breeze tugging at the edges of your robe as you slowly brushed your hair. The view of the gardens below, where your mother had once walked, usually brought you peace. Tonight, however, the air felt stifling. Your brother’s words still hung in the air, their weight pressing down on your shoulders like an unwelcome burden.

Marc stood in the doorway, watching you with that same stern expression he had worn since he became king. He had been pacing, delivering his decision like a royal decree, but you hadn’t been listening—not fully, anyway.

“You’ll leave for Monte Lune in a fortnight,” Marc repeated, his tone firm, as if trying to break through your defiance. “You are to marry James Barnes, the King of Monte Lune.”

You huffed, dragging the brush through your hair with a little more force than necessary. 

“Are you serious?” You shot him a look over your shoulder, your eyes flashing with irritation. “I haven’t even met the man.”

Marc’s expression didn’t waver. “Yes, you have. You met him on your sixtg birthday.”

You laughed, the sound sharp and mocking. “Oh, that day. I barely remember it, Marc. His face is a blur. That was years ago.” You set the brush down, turning fully to face him, leaning back on the chair with your arms crossed. “And now I’m supposed to marry him?”

“Yes,” Marc said, his voice calm but unwavering. “You cannot refuse. The arrangements are already in place. The council has approved it, and I’ve given my blessing.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, your frustration bubbling over. “So, that’s it? You and the council decide my future, and I’m just supposed to smile and play along? What if I don’t want to leave? What if I want to stay here?”

Marc sighed, his patience clearly thinning. “Y/N, this is bigger than you. It’s about the kingdom, about securing our alliances.”

You stood abruptly, your frustration giving way to defiance. “And what if I don’t care about alliances? What if I’d rather stay here and—what was it you called it once?—become a spinster?”

Marc’s brow furrowed, but you could see the hint of exasperation in his eyes. “You’re not going to be a spinster, little sister. Stop being ridiculous.”

You smirked, stepping toward him, arms crossed. “Why not? Sounds like the only way I’ll get any freedom around here. Or maybe I’ll join a convent of nuns. Wouldn’t that be lovely? Peace, quiet, and no royal decrees dictating my every move.”

Marc’s face tightened, his voice growing more stern. “This isn’t a game. You can’t just—”

“Oh, I know it’s not a game,” you cut him off, your voice sharp. “It’s my life, Marc. I’m not just some piece on a chessboard that you can move around as you please. I love it here. I love this place, being surrounded by the memories of Mother and Father. And now you want to ship me off to some foreign kingdom to marry a man I don’t even know?”

Marc stepped closer, his voice softening, though his resolve remained firm. “I know you love it here. But you have a duty, Y/N. We all do. You’re my sister, and I love you, but this is what’s best for the kingdom.”

You shook your head, turning back toward the balcony, your fingers gripping the edge of the railing as you looked out over the gardens. “What’s best for the kingdom,” you muttered bitterly. “Always what’s best for the kingdom.”

Marc placed a hand on your shoulder, his voice gentler now. “I wouldn’t ask this of you if it wasn’t important. You know that.”

You didn’t respond, your gaze fixed on the distant horizon, the weight of his words sinking in, though the fire of your defiance still smoldered inside you.

× × × ×

“To be a queen is to understand that your strength lies not in how harshly you punish, but in how wisely you show compassion.” 

Your late mother’s voice echoed in your head. But compassion felt like a distant concept now. How could you offer mercy when the very people you trusted had sought to control you, to weaken you, to strip you of the future you had hoped for?

The revelation of the poisoned tea still churned in your stomach, the betrayal sharp and unforgiving. They hadn’t just denied you the chance to conceive an heir—they had poisoned your very body, seeding destruction where there should have been life.

You clenched your hands at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you stood next to the Queen Dowager, your posture rigid. Everything around you felt distant, as though you were watching from outside your body, the events unfolding without your true presence. A trance had settled over you since the announcement at the Queen Dowager's birthday—since Bucky had declared Wanda as his consort.

The murmurs of the nobles like distant echoes. Your eyes were on the center of the hall, not really fixed on a certain space. Wanda, in a simple yet elegant gown, approached Bucky with the grace and poise she had always carried. She moved with confidence, but you could see the guilt of this moment in your friend's eyes. There was no joy here—only duty.

Bucky’s gaze flicked briefly toward you, you caught his gaze but you quickly looked away, and for a heartbeat, you thought you saw brokeness flash in his eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the mask of a king fulfilling his obligations.

Wanda reached the center of the room, bowing deeply to Bucky. He acknowledged her with a nod, his eyes dark and unreadable.

The court official stepped forward, holding a scroll in one hand. His voice, clear and commanding, filled the hall. 

"Lady Wanda Maximoff, you have been chosen to stand as consort to His Majesty, King James Barnes. Do you, of your own will, accept this role and pledge your loyalty to the crown and the king?"

"I accept." Wanda lifted her head, her voice steady though soft. 

Bucky’s eyes didn’t leave her face as she spoke. You could barely breathe, your heart heavy in your chest. You knew this was coming. You knew what had to be done. But it still felt like a slow, torturous unravelling.

The official continued, "Please state your vow, Lady Maximoff."

Wanda straightened, her voice clear yet solemn. "I, Wanda Maximoff, pledge myself to the service of the crown and the king. I vow to stand beside you in loyalty and devotion, offering my counsel when sought, my presence in moments of celebration, and my discretion in matters of state. I do not seek the crown, but I offer my heart and my service to the good of the realm."

Bucky remained still as the official turned to him. "Your Majesty, do you accept Lady Wanda Maximoff as your consort, to stand beside you in loyalty and support, as a companion in duty?"

Bucky’s voice was firm, though there was a slight tremor that only those closest to him could detect. "I…accept."

Just as Bucky's voice finished echoing through the Great Hall, a loud crash reverberated from the entrance, the heavy wooden doors slamming open. All eyes turned as Prince Isaac strode in, dragging Sharon Carter behind him. Her dishevelled appearance and the shock on her face made the council members murmur in confusion. 

Isaac's expression was one of cold fury, and his steps were unrelenting as he shoved Sharon forward into the center of the room, where the officiating ceremony had been taking place. 

The Queen Dowager sat straighter, her sharp eyes narrowing as she assessed the situation. Bucky’s gaze immediately hardened, his entire posture stiffening as he watched his brother’s entrance with a dark suspicion.

Lord Carter, standing just to the side of the council members, blanched but quickly masked his shock. His face returned to a composed, unreadable expression, though his knuckles whitened as he gripped the edges of his coat. The flicker of recognition in his eyes did not go unnoticed by Isaac, who let out a humourless chuckle, his grip tightening on Sharon's arm as he forced her to her knees.

Steve, near the entrance, straightened, his arms dropping to his sides as he glanced between Isaac, Sharon, and Bucky, ready to intervene if necessary.

Isaac’s voice was cold, cutting through the murmurs like a blade. "Forgive the interruption, Your Majesty, but I thought you might want to know exactly what kind of games have been played behind your back."

Sharon tried to stand, her face pale, but Isaac’s grip held her down firmly. She winced, but her expression was one of defiance mixed with fear. The nobles around the room watched with baited breath, their eyes shifting nervously between the royal brothers.

Bucky’s eyes, now dark with rage, flicked to Sharon and then to his brother. 

"Isaac," he began, his voice dangerously low, "what is this about?”

“Go on, Lady Carter,” Isaac's voice was calm, almost too calm, as he spoke again. “Why don't you enlighten everyone?” 

He jerked her arm slightly, forcing her to kneel lower as she flinched. Her breath hitched, panic clear in her eyes. Sharon's gaze flickered once more toward Lord Carter, silently pleading for some kind of guidance, but her father stood unmoving, his face cold and composed. It was clear she was on her own. 

Isaac's patience snapped.

With a quick, ruthless pull, he tightened his grip on Sharon's arm, his face darkening with an ominous threat. He leaned down, his lips dangerously close to her ear. 

“If you don't start talking in the next five seconds, Sharon,” his voice dropped to a deadly whisper, "I'll make sure every secret you've ever tried to bury comes spilling out right here.”

Sharon’s chest rose and fell rapidly as the pressure built around her, Isaac’s grip relentless and his whispered threat still hanging in the air. She swallowed hard, her eyes darting from Isaac to her father. Panic twisted in her gut, and finally, the words tumbled from her lips, desperate and frantic.

“I—I was following orders,” she stammered, her voice cracking. “I didn’t have a choice! My father—Lord Carter—he told me to lace the queen’s tea with contraceptives—I never knew it was mixed with poison!”

The room fell into a stunned silence. Every pair of eyes turned to Lord Carter, the weight of accusation crashing down on him. For a moment, the room seemed frozen in time, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating.

Lord Carter blinked, his expression quickly shifting from surprise to calm composure. He stepped forward, his posture straight and regal, addressing the room with a voice that dripped with sincerity. 

“My lords and ladies, this is a grave accusation,” he began, shaking his head slowly, as if the very notion were absurd. “Why would I, a loyal servant of the crown, seek to undermine my king and queen in such a way? This… this is madness.”

He turned to Sharon, his face twisted in disappointment, his voice now filled with a fatherly reprimand. 

“Daughter, I understand the pressure of the court can be overwhelming, but to lie—to attempt to place blame on your own blood to save yourself? That is truly unbecoming.”

The murmur of the court grew louder as Lord Carter’s calm demeanor and measured words began to sway the room. His voice was smooth, convincing, and there was a flicker of doubt creeping into the faces of the nobles.

Sharon’s eyes widened, her jaw tightening as she realized what was happening. Her father was throwing her to the wolves, sacrificing her to save his own skin. Rage boiled beneath her trembling exterior, her hands balling into fists.

“Liar!” she spat, her voice trembling with fury. She struggled against Isaac’s grip, her eyes locked on her father. “You told me to do it! You wanted me to—”

Lord Carter shook his head again, cutting her off with a wave of his hand. 

“Enough, Sharon. You’ve already done enough damage with your wild accusations.” His voice remained calm, but there was a coldness beneath his words that made Sharon’s blood run cold.

The nobles exchanged uneasy glances, the room divided between the seemingly composed Lord Carter and his increasingly frantic daughter. Sharon’s breathing grew heavier, her heart pounding in her chest as the realization set in—she was being betrayed by her own father, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

As the room descended into chaos, the murmurs of the court growing louder with every passing second, a storm brewed inside you. The revelations of the past few days—the poisoned tea, the betrayal by those closest to you, the endless charade—had all built up like a tidal wave, threatening to crash over everything you held dear.

Sharon’s panicked pleas filled the room, her accusations piercing through the tense air, but it was Lord Carter’s cold, manipulative calm that sent a surge of fury through your veins. His smooth, convincing words aimed to bury the truth, to cast doubt over his daughter’s confessions, but you could see through him—his lies, his deceit.

The storm inside you was blinding. Your vision blurred, and all you could see was red as you charged forward, your gown billowing behind you like a cloak of fury. The rush of adrenaline coursed through your veins, every fiber of your being fueled by the injustice, the betrayal, and the lies that had suffocated you for too long.

Before anyone could react, you reached Lord Carter, your fist flying through the air with a force that surprised even you. The sharp, resounding smack echoed through the Great Hall as your knuckles connected with his face.

The court gasped in unison, shock rippling through the nobles as Lord Carter staggered back, a red mark blossoming on his cheek where your hand had struck him. His composed mask cracked, rage flaring in his eyes as he stared at you, dumbfounded.

“How dare you!” he sputtered, voice tight with humiliation as he raised a hand to his cheek. But you didn’t flinch.

The anger in your chest blazed into an uncontrollable fire. With a sharp intake of breath, you lunged forward, seizing a fistful of his hair. Your grip was ironclad, your fingers digging into his scalp as you yanked him closer, his composure entirely shattered. His startled shout echoed through the hall, his limbs flailing as he tried to pry himself free from your hold.

“You disgusting, spineless coward!” you spat, each word drenched in venom. “You poisoned me! You tried to control my body, my future—you think you can get away with that? You think you can deceive everyone here, twist the truth to suit your treachery?”

Around you, nobles shifted uneasily, a few trying to step forward to intervene, but you were a whirlwind of fury, your grip unyielding. “You’re nothing but a coward! A filthy traitor!”

Lord Carter clawed desperately at your hands, but you only yanked his head back harder, a fierce satisfaction in seeing him squirm under your grasp. He tried to speak, tried to muster some words of protest, but you gave him no chance, your words a relentless assault.

The hall erupted in chaos. Gasps, hurried whispers, and scattered pleas for calm filled the air, but you barely heard them. In the back of your mind, you registered approaching footsteps, felt a hand brush your shoulder. Yet you didn’t relent, leaning in closer to hiss through gritted teeth, “I won’t let you worm your way out of this!”

Suddenly, a firm arm looped around your waist, pulling you back with a surprising strength. You fought the hold, thrashing against it, but another arm wrapped around you, lifting you off the ground.

“Let go of me!” you shouted, thrashing against the unyielding grip, your fists still reaching out toward Lord Carter as he stumbled back, visibly shaken. “I’m not finished with him! That vile—"

“Enough,” a familiar voice murmured in your ear, gentle but firm. Bucky’s grip was unbreakable as he pulled you away, carrying you from the scene with your feet barely brushing the floor.

“Put me down!” you protested, your fury still burning hot as you twisted in his hold, casting a final, scathing glare at Lord Carter. “He doesn’t deserve to stand in this court! He’s a fraud—a poison!”

But Bucky’s hold didn’t loosen. He murmured your name softly, a quiet plea for calm as he tightened his arms around your waist. Despite your anger, the heat of his embrace began to seep into you, grounding you even as your chest heaved with fury.

You stilled, the last shouts of rage fading into breathless silence as he held you close, his presence the only thing keeping you from breaking free again.

Lord Carter’s face paled, the full weight of your words settling over the room. The tension was palpable, and for a brief moment, no one dared to speak. Even Isaac, who had been holding Sharon in place, watched you with a newfound intensity.

“Enough.” Bucky’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. 

All eyes turned to him. His eyes darkened, a flash of the Winter Soldier rising to the surface for just a moment.

But he couldn’t lose control. Not now. Not in front of everyone.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky stepped forward, his movement demanding immediate attention. The hall fell into a heavy silence as the tension grew thicker. His eyes locked on Lord Carter, and though his voice was calm, the barely contained fury was evident beneath every word.

“Lord Carter,” Bucky began, his voice cold, dangerous. “These accusations—whether true or false—are not something to be brushed aside with mere words.” His gaze flickered briefly to Sharon, who remained trembling under Isaac’s grip, before returning to her father. 

“If you think you can use your daughter as a shield to deflect responsibility, you’re gravely mistaken.”

Bucky’s fists clenched at his sides, the desire to lash out clear in his stiff posture, but he forced himself to remain steady. 

“There will be an inquiry, a full investigation,” he continued, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And if any trace of treason is found—whether it leads to your daughter or yourself—you will both answer for it. Personally.”

The last word was a low growl, a promise rather than a threat. Bucky’s icy blue eyes never left Lord Carter’s, the weight of his authority and rage palpable. He was no longer just James Barnes—he was the king, and he wasn’t going to let this treachery slide.

Turning his attention briefly to Isaac, Bucky gave a curt nod. “Take them both to the dungeons. We’ll get to the truth soon enough.”

As Isaac moved to drag Sharon out of the hall, Bucky’s gaze flickered to you. There was a brief, almost imperceptible moment where the cold mask he wore cracked, and a hint of the man beneath—the one who hated seeing you caught in this mess—shone through. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the king who had a court to manage and a betrayal to uncover.

He turned back to Lord Carter, who stood frozen, his calm demeanor now visibly strained. 

“You,” Bucky commanded, his voice slicing through the air like a blade. “You will remain here until this is sorted out. Any attempt to flee will be seen as an admission of guilt.”

Before Lord Carter could so much as draw a breath, Steve stepped forward from his post near the entrance, his face set in stone. His voice was firm, carrying the weight of an order. “Guards, seize Lord Carter.”

Lord Carter’s composure cracked as the guards moved in, their hands firm on his arms as they began to escort him away. His face flushed with indignation, and he jerked his arm free from one of the guards, standing tall as if reclaiming his dignity.

"This is absurd!" he barked, his voice ringing through the hall. "You dare to lay hands on me? I am a loyal servant of the crown, and this is nothing but slander from a panicked girl trying to save herself!"

He turned sharply, his eyes darting between Bucky and Steve, his expression a mix of outrage and desperation. "There is no proof of these claims! No evidence! I will not be treated like a common criminal based on the hysterical accusations of my own daughter!"

Despite his protests, the guards tightened their grip, their movements unwavering as they led him toward the exit. Lord Carter struggled slightly, attempting to shake them off, his voice rising in anger. "You’ll regret this—mark my words! You’re making a grave mistake, Your Majesty!"

But Bucky remained unmoved, his cold gaze fixed on the scene, his jaw clenched as Lord Carter’s protests echoed behind him. The court watched in tense silence, the weight of Lord Carter’s protests doing little to sway the inevitable.

× × × ×

The hall fell into an eerie silence, the echoes of Lord Carter's protests fading as the heavy doors shut behind him. The tension hung thick in the air, the nobles exchanging uneasy glances as they tried to comprehend the spectacle they had just witnessed.

Pietro, standing close to Wanda, broke the silence with a tentative voice, his usual confidence faltering. 

"What happens now?" He glanced at Bucky and then at the official standing awkwardly with the scroll in hand. "What happens with the ceremony?"

The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for someone to speak, to bring clarity to the chaos that had disrupted what should have been a momentous occasion.

From the side of the room, the unmistakable voice of Nick Fury cut through the quiet like a knife. His arms were crossed, his one good eye sharp as it flicked between Bucky and the council. 

"Well, that’s up to you, Your Majesty," he said, his tone carrying the weight of the decision. "You want to finish this ceremony, or does this little… interruption change things?"

All eyes turned to Bucky, the unspoken weight of his decision settling over the hall.

Bucky's eyes flicked toward you, his queen, the only steady thing in the storm that had just erupted in the hall. For a moment, his gaze softened, the weight of the decision pressing down on him as he searched your face for reassurance, for guidance. You met his gaze with unwavering calm, silently offering the support he needed.

Drawing a deep breath, Bucky squared his shoulders, and when he spoke, it was with the strength of both a king and a man who had made his choice.

“This ceremony was meant to be about loyalty, about securing the future of this kingdom,” he began, his voice steady yet carrying the unmistakable edge of conviction. His gaze moved from you, then to Wanda, lingering just long enough to acknowledge the turmoil she was feeling. “But it’s become something else entirely—a spectacle tainted by deceit.”

Wanda, standing beside Pietro, visibly tensed, her breaths shallow as if she had been holding onto the pressure of the moment. Bucky’s next words cut through the room like a blade.

“The ceremony is canceled,” Bucky declared, his voice firm, allowing no room for challenge. “I will not tie this kingdom’s future to a decision clouded by lies and manipulation. Wanda, you deserve better than this mess, and until the truth is fully revealed, we won’t move forward.”

Wanda’s shoulders sagged in visible relief, her lips parting as she let out a breath she didn’t even realize she had been holding. Pietro cast a glance at his sister, his own tension easing slightly as the room shifted uneasily.

Bucky's attention swept back to you, his eyes filled with gratitude and a silent promise, before turning back to the hall. 

“Let this be clear,” he continued, addressing everyone now. “We will uncover the truth, and only then will decisions about this kingdom’s future be made. This ceremony is over.”

The room remained in stunned silence, the finality of his words echoing in the grand hall. Bucky had made his decision, and no one dared challenge the authority behind it. Wanda’s relief was palpable, and though the weight of unresolved matters still hung in the air, it was clear that Bucky had chosen the path that honored not only his kingdom but the trust he placed in you as his queen.

× × × ×

Bucky stood in the war room, leaning heavily against the grand oak table, his hands braced on its surface as he spoke in a low, determined voice. Isaac sat across from him, his arms crossed, watching his brother carefully. The Queen Dowager, Winnifred Barnes, was seated at the head of the table, her regal presence commanding the room, her sharp eyes flicking between her two sons.

“The Queen needs time away from this chaos,” Bucky began, his words laden with concern. “Everything that’s happening—Lord Carter, Sharon, the consort—it’s taken a toll on her. She wants to go to Zienna to recover, and I think it’s the right desicion. She deserves some peace.”

Winnifred’s gaze softened at the mention of Zienna. 

“It’s a place of healing,” she murmured thoughtfully. “Yes, it would do her well. But Bucky, with matters still unresolved here, can you afford to leave just yet?”

“No, not yet. I’ll stay and see this through, for her sake and for the kingdom. But once this is handled, I’m going to Zienna to be with her. She shouldn’t have to endure all of this alone.” Bucky shook his head, a firm resolve settling in his expression.

Isaac’s brows knit together as he listened, then he leaned forward, his voice cautious. “You’re certain you can resolve things here in time? Lord Carter and Pierce won’t go down easily, and the court is still on edge.”

The Queen Dowager arched a brow, her tone matter-of-fact as she asked, “And then, who will run the kingdom in your absence? Even a week away is a long time during a crisis like this. You can’t simply leave without a strong hand at the helm.”

Isaac shifted in his chair, his sharp eyes narrowing as he caught the slight pause in Bucky’s words. He could already sense where this conversation was heading, and his expression hardened slightly.

Bucky straightened, his gaze drifting toward Isaac for just a moment. It wasn’t long, but it was enough to make Isaac’s shoulders tense. His younger brother narrowed his eyes, already understanding the weight of what Bucky was about to ask.

“Isaac,” Bucky started, his tone careful, but firm. “You’ve always had my back, always supported the crown when I needed you. And right now, I need you more than ever.”

Isaac’s jaw clenched as he sat up straighter, the realization hitting him fully. “You’re asking me to become Prince Regent, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Just for a short time, when I’m away. The kingdom needs stability, someone they can trust to lead in my place.”

Isaac’s eyes darkened as he leaned back in his chair, considering Bucky’s words. “You’re putting a lot on my shoulders, brother. Not just running the kingdom, but stepping into your role, even temporarily.”

“I trust you, Isaac,” Bucky replied, his voice unwavering. “And the people trust you. You’ve proven yourself time and time again. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t believe you were the best choice.”

Winnifred, who had been watching the exchange silently, finally spoke, her voice measured. 

“This is no small request, Isaac. Becoming Prince Regent means carrying the weight of the crown, and everything that comes with it.”

Isaac’s gaze flicked between his mother and his brother, the gravity of the situation settling heavily on him. He was a soldier, a warrior, but this—ruling in Bucky’s stead, even for a brief period—was different.

“You’re sure about this?” Isaac asked, his voice low but steady, his eyes locked on Bucky’s.

Bucky nodded, his expression sincere. “I am. There’s no one else I trust more.”

Isaac exhaled slowly, his fingers drumming lightly on the table as he mulled it over. He knew the responsibility, the risk. But he also knew he wouldn’t let his brother down.

“Alright,” Isaac finally said, his voice firm. “I’ll do it. I’ll be your Regent in your absence. But you better make sure Y/N gets the peace she needs. And don’t take too long.”

Bucky’s expression softened, gratitude evident in his eyes. “Thank you, Isaac. You don’t know what this means to me.”

Isaac gave a brief nod, though there was a flicker of reluctance in his gaze as he glanced at his mother. Winnifred’s eyes were sharp, watching her sons with a sense of pride, though there was also a hint of concern.

The Queen Dowager spoke once more, her tone gentler now. “You both know what’s at stake. The kingdom will need to see unity in this time of uncertainty. Isaac, you must be prepared for whatever may come. And Bucky…” Her eyes softened as she looked at her eldest son. “Take care of Y/N. But don’t forget—you are still king, and your people will need you to return.”.

“I’ll keep the throne warm for you, brother. Just don’t make a habit of this Regent business.”

“I won’t.” Bucky chuckled softly, the tension in the room easing just slightly. 

After Winnifred left the room, a heavy silence settled between Bucky and Isaac. Their conversation lingered in the air, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Isaac sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned back in his chair.

“So, that’s one down,” Isaac muttered, referring to the traitors, his tone low and tired. His sharp eyes were still clouded with thoughts about the looming investigation, but there was also a simmering reluctance buried deep inside him.

Then, as if trying to shake off the seriousness, he shifted, raising an eyebrow and glancing at Bucky. 

“Sooo… Prince Regent?” Isaac asked, his tone light but the underlying tension unmistakable.

Bucky could feel his brother’s reluctance, the hesitation in his words. Isaac had always preferred to be on the battlefield, not tied to the throne. Bucky chuckled softly under his breath, leaning against the table as if to ease the seriousness of the situation.

"If I’m not successful in securing an heir, eventually, I’ll have to name you the heir," Bucky said, a smirk playing on his lips, though his voice carried a hint of truth beneath the jest.

Isaac froze for a moment, his expression darkening at the joke. His eyes flicked to Bucky, clearly not amused. 

“Don’t joke about that.”

“I’m not joking, Isaac.” Bucky raised an eyebrow, his tone shifting to something more serious.

Isaac stiffened, the idea clearly unsettling him. "You are the king. You have the duty to secure the throne’s future, not me. I’m no heir. I never wanted to be."

“I know you didn’t. But if something happens, if I’m gone, the people will need someone they can trust. That’s you.” Bucky’s expression softened, but he didn’t back down. 

"You’re not going anywhere, Bucky. And you will secure an heir. That’s not my responsibility." Isaac shook his head slightly, frustration evident in the lines of his face.

Bucky met Isaac’s gaze head-on, his voice calm but unyielding. "You’re my brother. If anything happens, I trust you to take care of things. Even if it means stepping into a role you never wanted."

Isaac’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He hated the thought, the very idea of being king. It went against every instinct he had. But the way Bucky looked at him—earnest, unwavering—made it clear this wasn’t just a hypothetical conversation.

“I won’t let it come to that,” Isaac muttered, though his words lacked conviction.

Bucky gave a small, knowing smile. 

“Neither will I.” 

But the unspoken truth hung in the air between them—neither of them could control everything, and the future was always uncertain.

After a moment, Bucky pushed away from the table and clapped Isaac on the shoulder, the brief moment of tension passing. “But for now, just take care of the kingdom when I go. That’s all I’m asking.”

Isaac huffed, shaking his head but relenting. “Fine. But don’t get too comfortable when you follow her to Zienna. I’m not planning to wear a crown anytime soon.”

Bucky laughed softly, the tension easing as he gave his brother a lighthearted grin. “I’ll be back before you can get used to the title, Your Highness.”

Isaac groaned, rolling his eyes. “Don’t push it.”

× × × ×

The morning air was crisp, a cool breeze sweeping through the courtyard as Bucky stood near the stables, watching you prepare for the journey. Dressed in riding clothes, you held yourself firm, though the weight of recent events settled heavily on your shoulders. Nearby, a carriage stood loaded with supplies, but it remained untouched—you’d insisted on riding, preferring the speed and maneuverability of a horse in case of an ambush. Around you, the best warriors waited in silent readiness, forming a protective entourage. Scott, a trusted friend, adjusted the reins of his horse beside yours, prepared to accompany you to Zienna.

Bucky’s gaze lingered on you, taking in the determination in your eyes and the tension you couldn’t fully hide. As you approached him, he stepped forward, his presence grounding and warm.

“My love,” he murmured, reaching for your hand, his fingers gentle but firm as he held your gaze. “I know things haven’t been easy. But I need you to know—I’ll join you in Zienna as soon as everything is settled here.”

You nodded, looking down for a moment, your fingers tightening around his. 

“I understand,” you replied softly, voice tinged with the exhaustion you’d been holding back. “But why do I feel like we’re always meant to be seperated. . . I don’t have a good feeling about this, James.”

His hand rose to your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “Everything will be fine, then when I’m finished here, I’ll be there. I promise.”

You managed a small, wavering smile, meeting his gaze with a quiet resolve. “I’ll be waiting for you, Bucky.”

He smiled gently, leaning forward to press his forehead against yours, letting your breaths mingle in a shared, comforting silence. 

“I wish you Godspeed,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Scott and the others will keep you safe, but still… take care of yourself.”

Blinking back the emotions that threatened to surface, you nodded. “And you. Don’t let them wear you down. Remember, I’m waiting for you.”

His hand tightened around yours, a silent reassurance. “I won’t let anything stop me from coming to you,” he vowed, the weight of his promise heavy between you.

For a moment, you stood there, suspended in quiet intimacy, until Scott cleared his throat gently. “Your Majesty, we should get moving if we want to reach the first checkpoint before nightfall.”

You nodded, your gaze lingering on Bucky’s as you reluctantly let go of his hand. With one last look, you turned and mounted your horse, steadying yourself as Scott and the warriors took their places around you.

As you rode through the gates, you glanced back, catching Bucky’s gaze one final time. He lifted a hand in farewell, his expression both resolute and tender—a silent reminder of his promise.

× × × ×

In the war room, Bucky stood at the head of the long, ancient table, his gaze hardened and his hands clenched at his sides. The air was thick with tension, the weight of recent revelations pressing down on everyone in attendance. Prime Minister Fury, Lord Stark, Lord Thor, and Lord Pietro surrounded him, their expressions equally grave. Isaac, who had been coordinating the efforts on the ground, stood beside Bucky, arms crossed, a look of fierce resolve in his eyes.

Lord Carter’s arrest had been a momentary victory, but it had sent Pierce scurrying into hiding, an alarming development that left Bucky with more answers. Sharon’s confession had revealed Haynesworth’s involvement—a coward now willing to cooperate under pressure. Yet despite this, the scale of Pierce’s plan remained daunting.

Isaac broke the silence, his voice a steady cadence of grim pragmatism. “My men and I have been able to weaken Pierce’s forces. The mercenaries we’ve detained have given us some insight into his network, but it’s clear we’re still facing a significant threat. Pierce has more men, well-funded and positioned, not just mercenaries, but soldiers loyal to him and his cause.”

Lord Thor frowned, the muscles in his jaw tightening. 

“A coup,” he murmured, barely containing the disgust in his voice. “He’s not simply out for power; he’s mobilising the people, stirring resentment. He’s been playing on their fears for longer than we realized.”

“Indeed,” Fury added, leaning forward. “The arrests, the reduced supplies to outlying towns, the instability—he’s planted seeds that we’re only now starting to see bear fruit. He’s crafted his campaign to draw as many as he can to his side, creating the appearance that the crown is to blame for their struggles.”

Bucky’s gaze darkened, his jaw clenching as he processed their words. His kingdom was under attack from within, and the loyalty of his people was being manipulated by a man willing to incite chaos for his own gain. 

“We can’t let Pierce continue to spread his poison,” Bucky said, his voice low but resonant. “If he manages to incite a full-scale rebellion, we risk losing not just the throne, but the very unity of this kingdom. . . Luckily Lord Starks provision of food and supplies weakened his campaign?”

Isaac nodded in agreement, his expression cold and focused. “I’ve had my men infiltrate some of Pierce’s hideouts, and we’re intercepting his communications where we can, but it’s not enough to turn the tide. If we’re to shut him down, we’ll need to identify his main camps and disrupt his resources—especially his connections to sympathetic lords who may still be in hiding.”

Lord Stark, ever the strategist, leaned back thoughtfully. “Pierce’s resources are formidable, but he can’t stay on the run without outside help. There’s a network feeding him, sheltering him, financing his troops. We’ll need to isolate and dismantle that network, one link at a time.”

Isaac’s voice took on an edge. “It’s not only Pierce’s direct allies we need to worry about. He’s stirred unrest among the common folk. They believe his lies about the crown, and that loyalty to him could grant them relief from the hardships they’ve suffered. That’s why he’s growing stronger.”

Fury added, “The situation’s delicate. If we move too brashly, we could reinforce Pierce’s narrative that the crown’s oppressing the people. But if we delay, he gains more ground. We’re working against time—and perception.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, frustration simmering just below the surface. He knew they had to strike with precision, neutralizing Pierce without alienating the kingdom they sought to protect. His gaze flicked toward Isaac, the only one who fully understood the precarious balance between strength and subtlety that Bucky faced.

“Isaac,” Bucky began, his voice resolute, “you’ve already done a damn good job of weakening their numbers. But we need more. I want a detailed strategy. Find their supply lines, their contacts in every town on the kingdom’s edge. Cut them off, quietly. And Haynesworth—press him until he reveals every name, every hideout, every ally Pierce has.”

Isaac gave a grim nod, the hint of a smirk touching his lips. “Consider it done. Pierce’s men may think they’re loyal, but everyone has a breaking point. We’ll use it to our advantage.”

Bucky’s gaze shifted to Stark and Fury. 

“And we’ll need to address the people’s concerns. Show them that the crown isn’t neglecting their needs. Send more food and relief to the outer regions. Make it clear that Pierce’s attempts to block supplies were part of his campaign to weaken the kingdom.”

Fury’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “A good move. If we can reach the people directly, we can begin to counter Pierce’s influence. But it’ll take more than supplies. They need to see a strong, united crown—one that stands in defiance of Pierce’s lies.”

Bucky clenched his fists, determination etched into every line of his face. He wouldn’t let his kingdom fall to traitors, nor would he allow Pierce’s influence to taint the loyalty of his people. With Isaac, Fury, Stark, and the others, he would strike hard and fast.

× × × ×

Lord Alexander Pierce sat in the dimly lit chamber of his hideout, his face a mask of restrained fury as he processed the recent setbacks. His usually composed demeanor was fractured, his jaw clenched tightly as he seethed over the news of Lord Carter’s imprisonment and Haynesworth’s cowardice. He had carefully woven his network of allies over the years, a web of loyalists and useful puppets, yet one by one, they were beginning to unravel.

“Imbeciles,” he muttered, his gaze cold and distant as he paced the room. He knew that with Carter locked away and Haynesworth under palace protection, his own position was more vulnerable than ever.

Pierce’s attention was drawn to a shadowed figure near the doorway. One of his most trusted operatives, a man whose services were as lethal as they were discreet, waited silently, prepared for any orders. Pierce’s gaze settled on him, the weight of his decision already clear.

“Haynesworth has betrayed us,” Pierce said, his voice low, barely above a whisper. “He has exposed us to the crown, and he knows too much. We can’t allow him to hide under palace protection and think he’s safe.” He took a step closer, his eyes glinting with dark intent. “See to it that he and his family are eliminated.”

The operative nodded, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. “It will be done, my lord.”

Pierce waved him away with a flick of his wrist, his mind already spinning with plans to stabilize the crumbling foundation of his revolt. But his contemplation was interrupted by the entrance of another figure—the leader of the mercenaries he had enlisted, a hulking, scarred brute with wild eyes and a snarl that twisted his face into something menacing.

The mercenary leader stomped forward with heavy, brutal steps, his broad, muscled arms crossed over his chest. His gaze fixed Pierce with an unyielding stare, the barely concealed rage in his eyes making it clear he was not a man of patience.

“We had a deal,” he growled, his voice like the scrape of iron on stone. “My men and I have risked much for you, but the royal vaults remain untouched. My men are getting restless. They want blood and gold, not empty promises.”

Pierce clenched his teeth, forcing himself to keep his composure. “And you shall have it,” he replied smoothly. “But we must act with precision. Rushing into the palace is not an option yet.”

The mercenary leader let out a guttural laugh, baring his teeth in a fierce grin that was anything but friendly. “We’ve been patient enough. Your plan’s unraveling, and my men won’t sit around much longer. If we don’t strike soon, they’ll get their gold elsewhere—even if it’s from the crown’s own coffers.”

Pierce’s eyes narrowed, his mind racing. He knew he had to maintain control over these mercenaries—they were his strongest line of offense. But he couldn’t afford an all-out assault on the palace until the right moment.

“You will have your prize,” Pierce said, his tone icy and firm. “But we do this on my terms. You’ve seen the chaos I’ve sewn within the court; the crown is weakened, and soon their defenses will be as well. An attack on the palace will come—but it must be swift and decisive.”

The mercenary leader leaned in close, his breath reeking of ale, his voice a low, savage rumble. “I’ve lost good men holding back for you, Pierce. We want our share, and if you won’t give it, we’ll take it ourselves. We’re done sitting on our asses.”

Pierce held his gaze, unflinching, though inside, he felt his grip on the situation slipping. He couldn’t allow a reckless assault that might undo all of his careful planning. But he couldn’t lose control of the mercenaries, either.

With a deep breath, he straightened, his gaze hardening. “Very well,” Pierce conceded, though his mind was already working through contingencies. “Begin preparations for an infiltration. We will test the palace’s defenses, probe for weaknesses. If we find a vulnerability, we will exploit it.” His lips curved into a thin smile. “But remember—do not underestimate the crown. This kingdom will fall by our hand, but only if we strike with precision.”

The mercenary leader’s barbaric grin returned, revealing broken, jagged teeth as he gave a curt nod. Without another word, he turned and stomped out of the chamber, leaving Pierce alone in the dark, the weight of the plan settling heavily on his shoulders.

Pierce clenched his fists, his mind sharp and focused as he considered the stakes. The royal vaults, the crown, the kingdom itself—they would all be his. But first, he would have to make every piece on the board move exactly as he commanded.

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[kithtaehyung]

back to december (teaser) (m) | ksj

title: back to december (teaser) pairing: brother's best friend!seokjin x reader(f) rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, wedding au, second chance au summary: ever since you left town to pursue your dreams, life has fast forwarded into one big blur. so when you hit pause to attend your brother’s wedding exactly three years later, your brain instinctively resets and rewinds. because you have to spend it with the very person that had been there at the start. the one person you regret leaving behind. note: this originally started as a one-shot for @raplinesmoon for the maui relief fundraiser, but turned into something more. since it also fit into the mold of this holiday collab, here we are! note 2: this is part of the jingle all the way collaboration with @kpopfanfictrash, @leahsfavefics, @cybrsan, @yoonia, and @sugaurora! all the holiday collab fics have the phrase “the holidays aren’t so bad with you around.” warnings: [explicit warnings to be posted on drop day!] language, alcohol, angst lol, time switches/flashbacks, seokjin being the sweetest until he’s not >:)), reader being damn cool, overthinking, bbf!jin needs his own warning i am warning y’all now, horribly great jokes, winter themes, relationship failures, stress/anxiety, jin being jin, did i say angst?, falling into cold water, a lot of gd yearning mood: back to december - taylor swift, halley's comet - billie eilish, universe/snowing in la - thuy teaser word count: 1.2k | est. word count: uhhh 20k+ lol wanna be on the taglist? add yourself here! est. drop date: january 2024

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It all started with an accident in winter. 

Ever the gracious hosts, your family decided to throw a cookout for your brother’s birthday, inviting everyone in the neighborhood and its outskirts to join in celebration. While your brother was initially opposed to being outside in the frost, word got around that his crush of three years running would be present, which suddenly warmed him right up to the whole idea.

Typical.

You were also initially opposed—having to sit through the festivities while your older sibling hogged all the attention—until you discovered your own downfall was attending, too. 

Because of course he would.

And if he was coming, you were set on making your naive self presentable and noticeable, and you still consider the day of the party to be the best you’ve ever carried yourself. You were confident, you were radiant.

Until you got bumped into the backyard pool.

You don’t even recall who knocked you in. All you remember was water rushing into your vision, and paddling through outright shame and embarrassment when you shakily swam your freezing bones to the ledge. Everyone saw you: your friends, your family, your brother’s older circle and acquaintances. In your adolescence, it was the literal worst thing to have happened to anyone in the history of ever.

But someone’s outstretched hand greeted you when you got to the pool’s edge. 

And when you looked up, you questioned if you hit the bottom on the way in because the face you were seeing was a shock. Were you deceased? Did you somehow swim to heaven’s beach?

No. It was really him, the very person you got all dressed up for. 

Seokjin. Handsome, reserved, off-limits friend of your brother Seokjin. 

Years later, you still question why he was the one helping you out. But it didn’t matter at the time because all you wanted was to get thawed out as soon as possible. 

“Come on,” he had urged. “You’ll get sick.”

Trembling because of the cold and nothing else, you took his hand and let him haul you into the house, wondering what the hell was going on the entire time. Why was he the one helping you? Where the hell was your brother? 

Because not only did he lead you inside, but the boy also accompanied you to your bathroom, grabbing a towel off its rack and wrapping it around your knocking shoulder blades. 

“Grab some clothes, okay?” 

“Huh?” 

“Go get clothes,” Seokjin ordered, moving towards your shower. “And change out of those as soon as you can.” 

“Oh.” Blinking, you couldn’t decide if your shivers were from the fall or his comments. But either way, you were shaking horrendously. “Yeah, okay.” 

After that, you remember being so cold you couldn’t even move your legs. Which meant that Seokjin had to lead you to your room and wait at the entrance while you hastily grabbed whatever you could find. 

There was no way he was gonna catch the cutesy patterns of your underwear. No way. 

When you were done, Seokjin brought you back into the restroom, the spray of water echoing through the festively decorated space. “It should be warm enough now,” he urged. “Don’t wait.” 

“Thank you,” you finally huffed, hating how your shakes stifled your gratitude. “You can, uhm. Go back out there now.” 

“Mm.” In the doorway, his eyes reflected the bright lights so perfectly. To this day, you still remember the way you compared them to stars. “Well. Umm. Good luck.” 

And you will never forget the way you felt heat before you even touched the run of the shower. 

“Yes, it’s all set. We are still on for Monday.” 

“Good. This is the meeting we absolutely cannot miss.” 

“Umm, yes—I mean—Understood.” 

“Is everything okay over there?” 

Rushing to close the door of your rental, you bite back a curse as your suit jacket catches in the edge. Because of course it does after the frantic day you’ve already had. “Yes! Everything’s”—you smush your top against your side while shutting the door again—“Fine! But I do have to go.” 

“Sure, sure. Oh, one more thing—”

Right. Rummaging through your purse, you locate the keys at the very bottom while trying to ingest the four things being tossed into your ear, locking the car in a fast walk to the massive mountainside property ahead of you. 

“ —then we’ll finalize the merger. Got that?” 

Holy shit, your brother must be doing even better than you or his fiance is loaded. 

“Hello?” 

“Oh, shit, sorry. Yes, Mr. Hamada, we can do that.” 

“Mm. What did we say about language.” 

“Apologies.” Damn your filthy mouth for running even faster in cold weather. Because it is the goddamn arctic out here. “I will say I have been getting better, though.” 

“Improvement won’t matter if you fuck up during the meeting.” 

“Alright, buddy.” Your superior’s laugh grates your ear as you haul ass into the warm estate, worry suddenly gripping you when you realize that no one is walking around. 

Shit, are you that late? Did you miss everything? 

Skittering right to the main doors, you start to panic. Are these the main doors? They look like them. Fancy. Very fancy. Shit, shit, shit, is the wedding over—

A full body bumps into your side as you round a table bursting with flowers. Having a sound enough mind to cover your receiver, you react in a shout, “Hey, watch it—” 

“Sorry!” 

Wait. You know that voice. 

Even though it’s one that you haven’t heard in years. 

“…Jin?” 

Everything slowly stops as the man turns and, if you weren’t so in shock, you would’ve noticed the way his eyes traveled from your heels to your perfectly trimmed brows. 

You expect both something and nothing. Because when it comes to the person standing in front of you, there’s no telling what he’ll destroy you with next. 

But what comes out is merely a tiny, chest-constricting, 

“Hello.” 

You stare, and stare, and stare some more. Even your boss cannot bring you back to the present with his incessant poking. 

Because Jin looks so fucking handsome in his suit that’s not quite dressed yet, with hair that’s swept just enough to throw you off planet earth. Even the way his tie lounges around his neck gives you pause, because it showcases how broad his shoulders have become. 

How can he look the same and yet so heartbreakingly different?

“I—” 

“Later, tuna fish.” 

Your heart lurches. 

“They’re waiting for me.” 

To your dismay, Seokjin presses a soft hand on your shoulder while passing through the ornate entrance, his lingering burn searing through as you watch him button his suit on the run. 

Well. At least you didn’t miss the wedding. 

You hear your sibling’s hearty shout echo throughout the hall, but you have to physically tear yourself from your spot to finally answer your boss. 

And to not fixate on the one person you thought you were safe from today. 

But of course he’s here. Why wouldn’t he be? Him and your brother have been inseparable since the beginning, and you should’ve known even being on different planets wouldn’t keep them apart too long. 

Speaking of… 

Traveling to another galaxy might solve the numbing ache in your chest. Maybe you should consider that gigantic leap yourself. 

Because seeing Jin again brings you back to December. 

And the frost you feel in your bones overshadows any weather brewing outside. 

-

-

tbc.

-

wheee! we have a teaser! | join the taglist!

a/n: isi i hope you know what monster you're about to unleash lmao. here's to another holiday seokjin! gosh, he will keep haunting me and i love him for it. second chance with isi's initial brother's best friend!jin request? gotta love it. the one-two-three punch, i reckon. anyways, hope y'all enjoyed the teaser and i am so so nervous about the main drop but hope you like that, as well :'))

links: jingle all the way collab ; masterlist

[yuurei20]

(Continuation of a request for Twst-world happenings and weather)

Twst Holidays

Interestingly, we have an example of a real-world Japan holiday being referenced by name in Twst! During the Wish Upon a Star event the prefect comments that the school’s Starsending activities sound strikingly similar to Tanabata, though none of the characters react.  

I do not believe that we have heard of anything concerning Falena and Cheka’s birthdays, though in Leona’s flashback we hear about an unnamed ceremony where Falena presented Cheka to the kingdom as their future king.

(This scene is sometimes referenced as proof that Falena is already king of Sunset Savanna, but he is not! He is still first prince. This is a not-insignificant part of Leona's turmoil, as it is technically not too late for him to be chosen in favor of his brother and he is grappling with resigning to the inevitable and his fear of giving up (re:novel))

Malleus’ birthday has been confirmed to be a national holiday in Briar Valley!

We have also heard about many of the festivals held throughout the various countries:

-> The Queendom of Rose’s White Rabbit Fes is a recent tradition, started 16 years ago.

-> Craneport’s Port fest is an annual festival held to commemorate the construction of the port and has been held for decades, though waning in popularity.

-> Harveston’s Mount Moln Sledathon is an annual festival.

-> The Yasamina River Fireworks Fest is a festival organized by the Scalding Sands’ most prominent families.

-> The Fairy Gala is a festival that fairies hold to usher in spring, but it is “no mere celebration of fairy fashion,” and an interruption of the festival can result in the entire world being caught in eternal winter.

-> Beanfest is “a traditional Twist Wonderland event,” not just a school activity.

-> Halloween is “one of the biggest events in Twisted Wonderland.”

Concerning weather: it seems that each dorm exists in an independent dimension, and it might be possible that these dimensions are maybe kept weather-controlled? :> Kalim says that “Scarabia’s usually warm year-round!”

Curious things happen to the temperatures during Fairy Gala, which might be hinting at how hot and/or cold those dorms usually are? Octavinelle becomes “unbearably hot,” so it is possible that it is usually cold (as would make sense for a dorm under the water).

Scarabia usually gets chilly at night, according to Kalim, but during Fairy Gala the dorm is buried in snow in contrast to its usual desert temperatures.

Ignihyde becomes extremely warm, so maybe it is usually kept at a cool temperature? (Which would also make sense, considering all their electronics).

Heartslabyul also becomes very warm, so it is possible that the dorm’s usual temperature is cooler? While Epel complains that Pomefiore has become extremely dry, so maybe that dimension usually has high humidity.

Lilia says that Diasomnia stays cool because there is little sunlight and that it might not be hospitable for someone like Kalim, who is used to warmer climates.

Crowley’s office becomes freezing cold during the gala, possibly insinuating that it is usually kept warm? Ramshackle Dorm is the opposite, becoming “hot as a desert.”

While dorm-dimensions may be weather controlled, it would seem the weather on the main campus is not! As you say there is the rain at Ramshackle during the prologue (also emphasized in the novel), and it rains again on campus in Book 7, but as that is Malleus-rain I am not sure it counts?

There is also forecasted “thunderstorms and torrential rain” being a plot point in the Wish Upon a Star event, and snow can be seen around Ramshackle and the Main Street of campus during Book 4.

And that is what I was able to find! :> Hope this helps!

[fianch]

dear dbda fandom, the plot of s1 takes place during march 08 ~ april 02 of 2024 (found based on the flashback with crystal and david taking place dec 08 2023, pt kite festival, and the devlin house)

montys "birthday" (spell day) is technically march 21st, 22nd, or 23rd (ep2 being before ep3) if we follow the pattern of it being 8~17 days instead of offscreen time

so, in 5 months, happy birthday to me and monty (probably)

[pjsk-headcanons]

HI ITS GLOBE ANON...SHINONOMES AHHHH (apologies for dying lol kind of wanted to get more art sided stuff done (i didnt))

shinonomes: distant

-basically, it was around middle school ena time when akito had that little line between "real" and "fake" start to blur

-ena knew he hated soccer but couldn't bring herself to say it to him. felt really guilty about it because after a while, she couldn't even look him in the eyes

-mental state was already pretty bad because of this, and then she got "the talk" from her teacher and then her dad confronted her too. she ended up throwing her art supplies out

-akito found out why she was having such a hard time, but he was already so deep into the spiral that the only thing he could do was avoid her

-they ended up just falling apart. they're so distant that they don't see each other at all. no phone numbers, just occasional notes on a counter. no birthday gifts

-can you tell they are my favourites (they are the ones on my display profile....hhhh)

summer festival, rekindled flames - post 1st anni

character boost: ena (focus), haruka, airi, akito, stage miku

-SUMMER FESTIVAL HAHAHA. pretty sure ena is not gonna have a good time. fashion and all

- ena didn't call akito to get her more comfortable shoes this time, who knew if she did what would happen next

-stage miku canonically likes food, like alot, so she is looking around with ena and admiring food

-airi and haruka meet in this one :D airi is preforming a small stand-up play, haruka is preforming a solo show

-akito simply admires the shows. ena sees him once and freaks out

-some enairi (platonic??) bonding maybe. a little bit of shinonome sibling backstory reveal

animal care? kamiyama clubfest! - post 2nd anni

character boost: rui (focus), akito, ena, nene, theater len

-literally what it sounds like i mean. reads i. mean text. i mean looks like i mea

-kamiyama is having a lil festival where clubs hold a lil stand for people to try out something related to the club so people join!!!

-since this is pre-3rd anni, the list goes like this

akito "helps out at various sports clubs"

ena doesn't have one. you gotta be kidding me

nene has film

rui has greening (for anyone who doesn't know, its like making more environmentally friendly stuff)

-rui gets kicked out of hosting the stand (everyone fears he will do something funny) and decides to look around

-animal care happens. seperate timing but this is probably where we learn akito's cynophobia

-meets ena (wanted to look around), akito, and nene seperately. theater len almost gets caught in open looking at a short film but nene gets him to hide right before akito pops up

-silly event, with some sibling mentions

blurry snapshots from that yesteryear - pre 4th anni

character boost: akito (focus), ena, an, minori, city MEIKO

-i love the word yesteryear. it doesn't even make sense (according to the oxford dictionary) in this occasion but i had to use it at some point ok

-akito goes to weekend garage and meets minori and an. minori mentions there being a live concert for stage○•showtime (yapping about how cool shizuku is)

-thinks huh. maybe i should go watch

-thinks for a bit too long in front of the two. an knows its normal behaviour and minori freaks out, talks to city MEIKO

-MEIKO says to keep an eye on him. if its that worrying

-day of preformance. minori fangirling and akito *DROPS FULL SHINONOMES FLASHBACK*

-ena spots him. oh no!!! gotta scram

-event story ends with ena coming home and her spotting a lil gift on the counter. she smiles a bit at it

sibling trust ranks are next + the asks in that one ask from a long time ago (sorry again. school sucks but there is a break soon so more content hopefully)

AAÀAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA have a great day mod!

🌐 anon

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Give Me Everything You Have

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Please support Cybird by buying their stories. Expect grammatical errors.

My beloved fiancé’s birthday was almost here.

Emma: “.........”

Silvio: “What happened to you earlier?”

Emma: “What are you talking about?”

Silvio: “You have this intense gaze, like you’re about to pounce on me.”

Emma: “Don’t worry about it.”

Silvio: “Don’t be ridiculous.”

(Probably just a few more minutes left.)

As his birthday drew closer, the tension built up because as the clock struck midnight, a competition was about to begin.

(I won’t lose, no matter what.)

------------Flashback------------

Rio: “You better be careful on his birthday.”

A few days ago, Rio told me this while I was gathering information for Silvio’s upcoming birthday.

Rio: “He’s the wealthiest businessman on the continent, so his birthday is no joke.”

Rio: “On that day, merchants and prominent figures from various countries gather to celebrate him.”

Emma: “Is it that grand?”

Rio: “Oh, it’s beyond grand. His birthday has such a huge economic impact that it’s no laughing matter.”

Rio: “All the accommodations near the castle are fully booked, and the guest rooms in the castle are occupied by VIPs.”

Rio: “The gifts alone surpass the average person’s lifetime income.”

Rio: “Everyone wants to celebrate him, so the entire city turns into a festive frenzy.”

Emma: “That’s incredible, as expected of him.”

Emma: “But that means it's going to be difficult to celebrate with him on his birthday.”

Emma: “Maybe it’d be better if I celebrated it with him the day before his birthday.”

Rio: “No way. Why should you, his fiancée, have to compromise?”

Rio: “If that flashy guy puts other people before you, I’m going to riot.”

Emma: “Hehe, knowing you, you might actually do it.”

Emma: “But wouldn’t it annoy him if I asked for his time on his birthday?”

Rio: “Not at all! I assure you.”

Rio: “He’s freaking crazy about you, so there’s no way he wouldn’t be happy.”

Rio: “You shouldn’t yield to that flashy guy or other people.”

Rio: “You can say this to him if you want: As my fiancée, you need to obey me and give me your time!”

Emma: “Okay. Thank you, Rio. I’ll do my best!”

---------Flashback Ends---------

(Even if he’s busy on his birthday, it should be fine the moment the date changes.)

By the way, Silvio didn’t know I knew about his birthday.

I wanted it to be a surprise, so I prepared the cake and presents meticulously and made sure he wouldn’t notice.

As I gathered my determination, he playfully stroked my head, unaware of everything.

Silvio: “By the way, it’s not good for you to stay up so late. It’ll affect your health.”

Emma: “I’m an adult. I’ll be fine.”

Silvio: “That’s not an excuse. Should I put you to bed like an adult, then?”

Emma: “No, thank you!”

(Just a little more.)

Amidst the sound of waves outside the window, the ringing of a bell echoed, indicating that the time had changed, and it was now his birthday.

(Alright!)

Emma: "Prince Silvio, happy birthda一"

Before I could finish my sentence, a knocking sound reverberated through the room, interrupting me.

(Who could it be this late at night?)

Without much surprise, he stood up and lazily opened the door.

Gathered people: "Happy birthday, Prince Silvio!"

(!?)

I rushed to his side and peeked into the hallway, only to see a long line of people.

The line stretched so far that the end was no longer visible.

Emma: "This is..."

Silvio: "It's always like this on my birthday."

Silvio: "Everyone tries to get my attention, resulting in fierce competition."

(.........)

(I was naive!)

The line that formed at midnight to congratulate Silvio on his birthday never stopped.

Since many of them were noble guests and influential merchants from other countries, he couldn’t simply ignore them.

It didn’t take long for the lively, bustling night to turn into the morning.

(Nn...)

Lured by the soothing sound of waves, I opened my eyes and abruptly sat up on the sheets, soaked in a gorgeous scent.

(Crap, I fell asleep.)

I recalled him telling me to go to sleep and pushing me to bed in between chats last night.

(Where's Silvio...?)

I could hear his voice outside in the hallway.

It seemed like the line was still ongoing.

(No way, right? So that means he didn't sleep at all?)

I hurriedly got up and changed into the dress I had left in his room.

I tidied myself up a bit and gently opened the door.

Silvio: "You woke up at just the right time."

He had already changed without me noticing and turned towards me.

(Oh wow, there are still so many people in line.)

Silvio: "Let's go have breakfast."

Emma: "Are you okay?"

Silvio: "*Sigh* You're worrying about me way too soon."

Emma: "But you didn't get any sleep, did you?"

Silvio: "It's always like this on my birthday."

(It's always like this!?)

(He seems fine at first glance, but can't he at least rest during breakfast?)

(That's what I thought, but again, I was naive.)

While we usually have breakfast in his room or the dining room, today, however, it was in the courtyard.

The guests didn't forget to approach Silvio and speak to him as they enjoyed the seafood dishes.

(He doesn't even have time to rest.)

(It seems like he hasn't had much to eat either.)

While keeping a respectful distance, I stood nearby and waited for a brief pause in their chat before quickly speaking up.

Emma: "Would you like me to get you something?"

Silvio: "I don't need it. Just make sure you eat your fill."

Emma: "Don't you have an appetite?"

Silvio: "It's not like that. I just want to hold back a bit to prepare for today's main event."

(Main event?)

Before delving further into the conversation, a guest took Silvio away.

(What should I do? Is it going to be like this all day?)

(But if this continues, he won't get any rest.)

(I want to celebrate with him, but I also need to look after his health!)

After the buffet party, we next went to the city.

As soon as we passed through the city gate, people who had been waiting surged forward all at once.

The escort knights managed to hold them back to some extent, but it looked like the line at the court was just the beginning.

(I'm going to get squished and separated!)

I desperately clung to him, and he overreacted.

Silvio: "You...!"

Emma: "If I don't do this, we'll get separated!"

Silvio: "Don't do such things in public."

Emma: "I was just holding onto your arm!"

Silvio: "That's exactly the problem. *mumbles*"

(Did he say something just now?)

Emma: "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you!"

Silvio: "Ah, is that so? Then I won't say it again!"

(What!?)

He turned away and started chatting with everyone again.

(I feel like I missed out on something important.)

Despite feeling disappointed, I desperately clung to his cape, not wanting to be separated from him.

After what seemed like an eternity, I finally got my chance.

Perhaps tired from it all, he conspired with a knight and took a break in a secluded alley we escaped into.

Silvio: "Those guys should tone it down a bit."

(We finally have a moment alone.)

(At first, I thought I just wanted to have time to celebrate, but seeing how difficult it is, I can't afford to be selfish.)

(If only I could say happy birthday already.)

Emma: “Prince Silvio...”

Before I could even say it, he forcefully grabbed my chin and silenced me with a kiss.

(!?)

Emma: “What are you...”

A voiceless scream escaped me as his lips curled into a mischievous smile.

Silvio: “You just made a face like you’ve had enough.”

Emma: “Huh?”

Silvio: “You should come at me more seriously.”

Emma: “What do you mean...?”

Silvio: “*Sigh* You wanted to greet me, right?”

(He noticed.)

Silvio: “Then don’t give up until you give me everything you got.”

(He seems to see through my attempts to greet him.)

He messed up my hair and stepped out into the bustling city.

It didn’t take long before the people surrounded him again and disappeared.

I was stunned by the sudden kiss, but I quickly regained my composure.

(He’s gone. He must have known I wanted to celebrate.)

(Wait, could it be...?)

(Is he running away from me!?)

Part 2 ╎ His POV

[noacfapologyst]

birthday surprise — matty healy

(the birthday party: day two)

summary: even surrounded by people he loves and people he doesn't know at his birthday party, matty feels alone. by chance or by consequence, he finds a piece of his past that it stirs absolutely everything in the depths of his soul.

warnings: mention of alcohol, approach to loneliness, flashbacks of the past. cry on your birthday (guilty). open ending (maybe?)

wordcounter: 4,8k

Birthdays are one of the things Matty has enjoyed most since he was a kid. It's not just the fact of seeing all the people he wants in one place or the gifts he receives, although obviously that's also a plus for the basis, but the most important reason boils down to another: Matty has learned to celebrate being alive, to have a day, or a year more to live.

Maybe for the same reason, one of the environments Matty is best known for could be at parties. He always gathers endless crowds inside the walls of his house, always ends up being crazy between the amount of mess he has to clean up afterwards and the mess he has to take care of while they dance drunk on the tables and sing without being able to stop.

He has never considered himself a person of few friends, but he doesn't think he has a huge amount either because he's had to leave a lot of people behind. He has the necessary ones to be good with himself and with them, his presence does not suffocate them and they know how to understand him even when he cannot control himself and impulsivity controls him. But he's calm, he always is.

Of course, he now finds himself in a situation where many people entering his house are unknown to him because they are companions of his friends, or acquaintances of them. And God, Charli gathered a crowd in here. He recognizes them because he believes he went to high school with one or two, the few years he attended before deciding to miss an exam to go to a music festival.

Entities mix because he fails to recognize among low-profile, famous or just known people who have found out. In a way, it feels a bit like a party I'd throw if I was 18 and walked out of a Santbury's with several bottles in my hand and on my head. But it is not, because he is 35 and is in the middle of going through his thirties crisis.

Although now he deduces that none of it matters to him. He's much better than fine. He has gone from having the weight of a feather to getting stronger and seeing its fruits after many months without stopping at the gym. It has healed in all senses: broken heart, mental frailty, bad habits and addictions. Or at least in most of them, because he still smokes and still drinks alcohol, but at least now he equates it with something else and knows he can control it better. It's not entirely perfect, it could never be because that's metaphorically what the human being represents: a canvas that looks beautiful, beautiful and honest until you see the poorly made brushstrokes, over and over again until a result bulges.

"Hey, come to the kitchen." George awakens him from his thought with a touch. Matty leaves the beer can half-open on a shelf in the living hallway.

Then they arrive in the kitchen amidst a tumult of people that opens up in their path. The open backyard door is a plus because it's a good place to get some cold air and realize that he's lost a lot of stability and composure after several beers and a few more shots.

Ross is leaning on the recently acquired white marble countertop, as he opens a bottle of Don Perignon and the foam splashes over the top of the bottle. With quick movements, he pulls seven glasses from the shelf, and fills them to distribute later.

"Let's toast in honor of Matty, because it's his birthday and we love him. And we are incredibly proud of him." Ross cheers, while everyone raises their glasses. Charli applauds with the palms of his hands, and everyone knows that he has lost his mind. Matty smiles as much for that last act as for what his friend has just said, it's really an honest smile and full of feeling though he may not be able to prove it now.

Everyone toast, and then Carly pulls out of her purse a digital camera to capture the moment in eternity. They take a selfie together: George, Matty, Ross, Adam, Carly, Charli, and Chloe. Then there are some spontaneous ones between the four guys, the girls and one of each of them with Matty.

"Oh, my boys. I love all of you so much. You are the best on my life, really." It's finally Matty drinking the champagne out of his glass. Feel the golden bubbling liquid falling down your throat. "Thanks for everything you've done for me throught this years, forever."

When the conversation becomes that emotional tone that always happens on birthdays, it is also the moment when the bubble of intimacy breaks and everyone leaves that state.

"Hey I'm sorry, but there's not more ice." A woman's voice sounds from the frame of the kitchen, but Matty can't recognize her even when he looks at her with a frown.

"Oh! Now I'll bring more, thank you darling." Matty answers almost automatically as if he had given up control of his head. Actually the words are leaking out of her mouth but it's nothing too worrying yet, and she hopes it stays that way. "Some of you know who is?" He receives negative responses after the restlessness and sighs sillylyly laughing. "Thanks for all, friends."

A song by the Backstreets Boys begins to ring through the speaker in the living room and resonates between all the divisions of the house. Taking advantage of the commotion and celebration about it all he leaves the kitchen and disperses. Matty searches for a bag of ice from the fridge, breaks the wrapper with scissors and takes it to the main table where he places it in the fountain designed to keep the cold.

When he crosses the center of the dance floor, many people greet him and flatter him, giving him little shouts of love or complete sobriety, and more than one even asks him to dance for a few moments.

For a moment he manages to put away the idea of how he is the only one in his group of friends who has no one, which becomes more raw when he sees too many couples kissing on his couch, also generates a bit of disgust but he doesn't want to feel like a snob. He did the same thing and doesn't know when he stopped doing it but he understands the adrenaline generated by kissing someone when you're drunk and hot in public spaces, even if it's a pretty adolescebte attitude.

He takes his beer from where he left off and goes on. They have all built long-lasting relationships or are in the process, which makes sense for the age that passes.

He's okay with that, too. Yeah, logically, he´d like to have someone to dance together right now and then sneak out to enjoy a moment alone. Intertwining his hands with someone and having someone fixed to wake up with every morning while the smell of coffee runs through the room. He wants it the same way people who don't have it do, but he thinks he needs a break now.

Her last love attempts have gone overboard, and further down. They have simply come out disastrously and reject the idea that he wants to have for love: it all ends in silly discussions about mundane and monotonous everyday things that make up a ball that explodes, then everything weakens and the routine too tiresome. He wanted to live in the madness with which he used to live love in his 20s, where there was no fear of the future and only the expectation of living in the present.

Remember that frenzy of love when he was a teenager, when it is the purest love you contemplate inside you, when the barrier of who is going to judge you and the responsibilities are inhibited and you just go drunk with love walking down the streets arriving at the door with different flowers every day. He wants to love and get it right this time, obviously, but he doesn't want the person he leaves his legacy with abruptly taking away the magic of love Matty once had.

By the same token, he takes care of letting it flow. He's not waiting for anyone and he's hoping that things will just get better. She doesn't know if her future is to love someone and make it work, but she doesn't give up hope.

"I'm going to smoke, just in case." He says, when he sees Carly near him. He knows she's the one he can trust most because she's the most sober and the least alcoholic.

"Stay safe, Matty. Hope I won't have to look for you." She approaches him and kisses him on the cheek in an act of love, something like a motherly love. Even though she's only a little older than him, since she's with Adam she considers Matty to be completely special to her, and she loves him as much as she literally loves her children.

He says goodbye to her and walks to find the back door sneaking around. He looks the place and he see that there are really not so many people huddled together in the same place as they are scattered. The courtyard is huge, after the cement floor the grass extends along perhaps half a kilometer, where in the middle there is a swimming pool, and in the width there are some palm trees that accompany it. In the background there is a gate that leads to a construction connected to the house, but for which Matty is not responsible.

He looks for a place under the palm tree, the breeze that the leaves cause as they move embraces him at dawn. It's funny to him, he sneaks away just like he did all his life at these kinds of events, punctually on his birthday. He loves people and loves being with them, but at some point he needs to isolate himself from that same environment and have air to himself.

He fiddles with the lighter between his fingers passing it from hand to hand until he decides to pull a mentholed cigarette out of the pocket of his black leather bomber.

"Matty?" A whisper of the wind reaches his ears, although he does not know where it comes from, he acknowledges that there are not so many people who call themselves that.

He hears footsteps on freshly cut grass and hears crackling under his shoes. The only light out there comes from a curtain of lights hooked to the grill, so it's pretty dark.

But then a female presence appears in front of him. He really does nothing but admire her and for once his eyes run out of the cylinder he is about to light.

The two look into each other's eyes, Matty feels his whole life is passing before his eyes and is afraid he's having a concussion, or he's having a stroke. It doesn't make sense for her to be here in front of him after all these years.

"y/n?" He dares to ask. He doesn't have anyone around to confirm his presence there so he hopes he's not too drunk to hallucinate and hopes he's really on the physical plane. "I'm sorry, it's just…wow." Her tongue catches the words as her head runs a thousand miles after seeing her nod to get out of her trance.

"Isn't it?" With every word the past moves down the earth for both him and her. Too many, too many layers of memories that were left behind many years ago now threaten to float as if they could seep through the holes in the green ground.

There is a prolonged silence for a few seconds. Actually, nobody knows what to say because everything seems like a fantasy about to be pricked with a pin and nobody wants to go beyond that.

Matty's looking at her. She has always had that carefree but wrinkled profile and he recognizes her under the black dress sleeveless dress glued to her body and the hair cut on her shoulder, with the last minute scissors marks and something uneven. She complements it with high-cane boots, something like the ones she defined as her favorites too long ago. She still has that sparkle she had when she was a teenager, she's still incredibly beautiful without asking. He looks at her surprised that she's here, grateful to see her once more. He can't stop thinking about it, but she's really radiant.

She looks at him. He has changed a lot from the superficial, his hair is now almost shaved, only with hints of hair growing on his entrances. She doen't need to inquire to know that his fitness owes it to the gym, even under his jacket she can see how well marked are his muscles compared to the little skinny teenager she met a long time ago. The expression on his face did not change, if he looks into his eyes he still finds the frightened child because he does not know if things will turn out well, but also the child waiting for his mother after school to give her a hug. She has a white T-shirt that's stuck to her body and her tattoos are transparent. She looks at him impressed.

"Hey." He breaks the silence by speaking softly but with total softness. She smiles at him without showing her teeth and Matty feels something rising up her body. "What are you doing here?"

He is lying against a palm tree, she is standing nearby but neither wants to move into the position of the other, there is some barrier that prevents it and possibly it is discomfort.

"I'm the babysitter of my sister and her friends, they are your brother's friends." She anwers by returning the tone of calm. "In fact, I found out today."

"Wait, really?" He answers, and for a moment the atmosphere seems to disappear only because he is seeing everything through it. "But Louis is not there." He shrubs his shoulders.

"Yes, I noticed that. I guess he told the others in some nonsense conversation." She analyzes how he hasn't lit a cigarette since he arrived. "Are you going to turn it on or?"

Matty feels like a fool. "Do you continue smoking?" Ask without a second thought. He just wants to know what's in her life now. "Sorry, what about my maners, do you want one?

"No, but I'll share one just for the old times." She smiles at him again, and he mentally keeps the memory of how the burgundy color highlights the cheekbones of the white skin of the woman in front of him.

"Do you want to sit?"

"I'm alloweed to?" Matty is restless under such a formal tone and considers that the passage of the years now takes its points.

"Of course." Now he's the one smiling at her. "Are you still in the same job?

She laughs slowly, refuses with her head a bit apart. "God, no. I work in a notary's office now, but I'm more comfortable." She answers, he opens his lips in surprise, a whistle escapes from her lips. "May I suggest why are you here and not inside dancing with the others?" She asks with some shyness as she approaches to sit down, without doing so facing or beside him, as at an angle of seventy-five.

"Maybe you know the answer. It hasn't changed." He answerd and when he feels that he is drowning in too much of the past, he lights the cigarette. He pauses and takes a drag.

"You still get loneliness sometimes." She reasons, he nods with a look of pity and gave her the cigarette. "I really didntt know this was your house."

"It's quite different from the old porch, it doesn't have a loft with a balcony or red tiles either, but i like it." He sighs embracing the melancholy that escapes from his bone structure. "How did you get here?

"My friend was dizzy from so many people and then I lost her because of a child." She laughs wryly. "I started walking and then I reached the palm tree, and maybe I understood the host of the party."

"¿Yes?"

"How many people do you know whose birthday is April 8th, Matty?" She stares at him with direct intent. He flies in the nebula. She remembers her birthday.

"You still remember it." He has a smile that runs through his face from end to end, he feels satisfied with the interaction, whatever it takes. She leaves the cigar in her hand and the touch makes him shake.

Matty's head is about to fall apart. He himself sees how his vision becomes twofold, one leaving him in reality under the palm tree, and the other teleporting him 22 years ago to a rather similar place.

It's autumn, the leaves of the trees turn yellow and fall to the ground. There's a breeze but it's not cool or threatening, it's friendly. Matty's eighteen now, he's of age.

On the other side of the race to see who gets to the pile of leaves first, there's her. She's dressed as simple as if she'd just gotten up, the blue skinny jeans and a black shirt with a print of some band scratched by the number of times she's washed. They're both older, but running down the alleys of New Castle looks like they're 12 still.

The muddy shoes, their coats that shelter them both, her bracelet tied to his hand, the kiss on the cheek when greeting each other, the butterflies every time they look at each other. The celebration of walking, the adrenaline of winning the race to the leaves and rolling in them.

Matty abandons everything else, leaving behind the nightmares, his parents' parties and sleepless nights when he has her. He's happy with her, he feels protected and nothing can hurt him. He loves her, with all his heart. He's eighteen, newly grown, wears glasses that slip on the tip of his nose but make him look smart. It has some protruding pimples between the cheek and forehead, but in sunlight it still looks like a baby's skin, fragile to the touch.

He doesn't know when he fell so in love with her, he doesn't know when he found the connection and when it began to appear in his innermost dreams. He couldn't stop thinking about her and all her dreams, the dress she wore on her birthday, the hug after the holidays. Every touch gives Matty years to live, and although he's been a sad kid for most of his life, he'll always be grateful that she changed that.

"You are eighteen, you can run fast." She says in a competitive tone, without slowing down.

"I will win, idiot." He's self-proclaimed.

"And if you do, what will you get? A painful coronation as king of the leaves." She jokes and throws herself headfirst on the leaves of the ground. "I told you."

But Matty was willing to win.

"I already decided my prize." Vitorea approaching the leaves, diving into them.

"You didn't wi-"

Matty doesn't think about what's going on, he just lets the impulse take him further and control him. It may be his only chance, and it may ruin it, but he have to try before he let any more time pass.

She is in shock on the leaves when she feels the lips of Matty on top of hers. She doesn't understand what's happening, or if it's really happening. The only thing she remembers afterwards is feeling Matty's hand squeezing her cheek with soft caresses. He kisses as much as he can, and after a while she gets used to the movement.

They go on like this, without saying a word for many minutes. Their sequence and their need is to kiss until the lack of breath wakes them up, smile with their noses stuck and merge again. Maty tastes like mint and chocolate, so it's the flavor she'll love the most for the next two years. Teenagers at the height of their purest love.

"Didn't I tell you? I would win." Matty comments when both feel they have shared too much saliva, but he does not take his hand off her cheek.

The wind is blowing in both heads. They have never known love this way, and they will remember it so well for the years that this love lasts, and for a few more.

Actually, and though Matty doesn't know it yet, she, sitting in Matty's house, is thinking about the same fall of memories. She feels like she's about to die and the best years and moments of her life go by, they've always had that facility of telepathic connection without having to try. Also because, for a long time, it was the memory they most enjoyed in years.

Matty then sees, in his memories, everything he's longed for for so many years. Midnight getaways, intense kissing at nightclubs, family meals, she dressed in him on Sundays, family trips, snow wars with her kisses sunk in the snow. He sees fireworks now that he remembers her, how he was first in everything for her and how she has marked him even more than he can say.

After that comes the band, and even before and after the previous names. But he focuses on when the band is already confirmed as Drive Like i Do and then like 1975, he sees her sitting at the table listening to them rehearsing, he sees heer at the clubs drinking beer and screaming crazy when he comes out in his most misaligned ensemble.

Matty may never have said it like that, but the girl he fell in love with is part of the band just like them. Almost the entire first album has its muse, in each of the stanzas and in each of the notes of the compass. She has followed him for all these years, it has been his greatest point of inspiration and of genuine and re-created love. She has given him the best years when he was twenty, he has written the songs he enjoys most thanks to her.

But equally, to say that he hasn't forgotten her or that he's remembered her like that for fifteen years without seeing her since she left in her twenties, would be lying. He remembered her for years, but then he was no longer present in her mind.

She can't judge him. Maybe she waited longer, but she had to move on anyway.

But it's okay, they existed at the time they had what. They learned enough from each other to remember each other fondly.

"You think about that autumn too, didn't? "During all this trance, the connection has become stronger. The discomfort is ignored, and she ends up sitting next to him.

"You are inside my mind, literally." He laughs with his eyes full of glass. He just had a recession that knocked him down. "Yes, I thought about it."

"That autumn was the best of my life. The fucking golden time." She confesses, with the moon now fully reflecting her. He looks at her with a longing smile, he also misses feeling so complete. "I have loved you for so many years and I think I could do it for more."

She complains hugging herself. Matty leaves the previous state and now the alcohol seems to have lost its effect. He extends his hand to put it behind the brunette girl's back and draw her in. The woman's head rests on his chest.

"I have loved you too, you know? The first album is about you." He kisses her hair, but she can't help but cry. They are breaking up with each other next to them and that's why they prefer not to be seen. It's too strong for both. "I'm sorry."

"What do you mean?" She looks up. The brown eyes meet the eyes of the british man.

"I-I screwed up that June afternoon, and I carried the blame for many years. I've never really been able to apologize, and I know the last thing you got from me was a horrible argument. I'm sorry, it won't fix something so many years later, but it's sincere." He manages to loosen a gear that has been weighing on him for a long time. He finds serenity in the brightness of the moon, and though he knows he can't go back in time, when she intertwines his hands he thinks he hasn't gone too far.

"Thank you for that. I know it's your party, but you don't have to cry to the end." She kisses his cheek and wipes his tears with her fingernails painted dark red, then returns to his neck. She repents and prefers to sit in front of him. "But it was true, wasn't it? Did you fuck everybody in this town?" She asks, without any resentment or sense of judgment.

"You compromised me, honey." He nods nervously accompanied by a laugh. In fact, he's still crying, but he's feeling much better. More airy, more connected and more peaceful. "I missed the car and the argument."

The two laugh at each other, it's an atmosphere that has now become more comfortable than ever. She has got her makeup destroyed by tears and he is s getting water marks through the seams of his shirt.

"The end of that hallway was fateful." She ironizes it with a recharged energy that dances inside. It feels as if she is now the final part of a song that breaks the melody and raises the instruments to a higher level to close it in the greatest ecstasy. "Even so, maybe you were right a few years ago. You needed more than me." She points to itself and then points to the atmosphere.

"Sorry, I don't get it." He feels bewitched by her words, but is so deep inside that he can't even think about what she's saying.

He just knows she comes, again. He sees her crawling and crawling up to his lap. He's afraid that this will still be a bad trick in his head and that tomorrow she'll never have been here. She'll be in another country, with someone else, and without him. His heart pumps like it has seldom done.

He knows they're soul mates, or he used to know, and now he's reconfirming it. Now there's only one thing that separates them and one thing that could bring them together.

"You needed a cigarette, alcohol and a sad conversation." She finally answers, as she settles down to her mercy on his lap. Matty feels like he has a fever when he feels the back of her palm on his face. It's been floating for over 15 minutes. "As i do."

After this, it just happens.

After 15 years, they're kissing in Matty's backyard. The two cry in between, because they haven't recovered from the emotional delirium they just had, but the fireworks they once had at eighteen come back the second their lips touch.

He hasn't changed, Matty still smells like chocolate and mint. She neither, she tastes the same as always does, she still tastes well enough to satiate Matty. They remain exactly the same for each other and what they still need.

The kiss does not have a taste to be described by or a unique feeling. It is the taste of remembrance and reunion, of melancholy, of adolescence, it is pure nostalgia in its splendor. It tastes like sadness, the tears of the last time they argued, and in turn it tastes as the ice cream they ate holding hands in the park, the chocolate they always gave each other as a gift. It tastes as Christmas food and the summer breeze. It's all together in one, and that's why they don't bother to feel sorry for how the waterfalls in the eyes accumulate coming down later.

A kiss, that's all. Matty doesn't want to think, but he inevitably does and finds only two options.

Tomorrow you will both remember this and you will both retire by lowering your guard and remember it as a secret. There is no one around to prove the presence and existence of the woman he has there, no one has seen her and the easiest excuse is to say that he simply confused everything with someone else because of the amount of beer. Or they could tempt fate and stay there, they could heal the wound and they could try again to have the best they ever had.

But now, does it matter?

"Hey." She puts pressure on his hair. He opens his eyes feeling fuller and more human than ever. "Happy birthday, Matty. The birthday boy always needs a gift."

let me know what you think about it. my taglist is always open. 🤍

[mitamicah]

Gig Report: Ruisrock Festival July 7 2024

Sunday July 7 2024:

Here follows my experiences with Käärijä and Joker Out at Ruisrock Festival, Roussalo Turku on July 7 2024.

To make a long story short me and @jaarijani had decided to camp at Rossallo camping (the officially camping site of the festival) which gave us a lot of grievances so we'd only put our tents up a bit after midnight the day before. None of us had good quality tents and it was said to rain early morning sunday.

I had had a few drops of rain pierce the tent when it began raining at 5 am while poor Cass had had her tent soaked! Safe to say we were not happy campers when security and police went around asking us to put our tents down or fasten it closer to the ground since the weather had warned against strong winds.

We went searching for a charger and I saw a helicopter take off at one point (that I later learned very possibly was the very same helicopter that had Käärijä, Häärijä and Joost in it!!!).

We went to the festival grounds with one of the earliest busses at 12 to meet up with @teal-skull, our saviour, that had brought us breakfast (not the last time they’d save our behinds). When entering the festival grounds, we quickly went to queue for Käärijä that’ll be the second act on the mainstage after Blind Channel (flashback to my birthday concert!). We got to meet whole new sets of people that I haven’t seen in ages (hi @i-wasnt-ready-for-this! Hi @korre!) or never interacted with in public before such as my fellow Bojere QPR shipper @flananjan and – I am still sort of awestruck about this one – @lemon-h4!! I had not made stickers today, so I drew quick doodles for everybody on post it notes. @carpblu had made me Häärijä-Hojan-Hoost bracelets and @formulalakana a Denmark Guy one (for context I recommend checking out my gig repport for Backas) and I honestly treasure these so much!!!

I was pleasantly (with capital P) surprised and relieved with how well the queueing went for Käärijä – the security respected our number system and let us into the limbo space first. Here we watched Jesse while screaming along to HHH and Rouska played from a little speaker. Then the security would follow us using tape (so nobody could run) to the barricade in groups of 40-50 people at a time. Having number 34 I managed to get barricade at one of Finland’s biggest festivals(pictured) next to Skull, Aniina, Cass, Caro and Bendo.

Käärijä made another homerun show especially lifted by having Erika Vikman join for Rouska and later Joost join for the first ever performance of Trafik! (me and Bendo had been wondering why Häärijä wear a blue suit out loud and only conclude that maybe we’d see Joost a second before the backtrack began playing). I filmed the whole chaos yet given I was just behind the photographer I didn’t get all the best angles but it was still so much fun!! (Only soured by an entitled teenager ripping the setlist out of the hands of the person that had actually been handing the setlist and then the teenager’s mother shouting at Caro for calling her daughter out).

After that amazing experience we went to join the already assembling Joker Out crowd in the tent and unfortunately that meant being present at this horrible DJ set (I tried to make a joke at one point asking if this was the music straight people were into) the insulted my insights. After that and because I may not have eaten enough during the day I hit the wall and my blood sugar drained drastically, so I had to sit down. Cass went to ask for some water by who ended up being Vita (Cass didn’t realise not even when she was interviewed about ŠBJ which made them way calmer than they’d been otherwise). I tried my best to drink the water (it was sparkling, and I hate sparkling water with a passion) and got some glucose from Cass yet I still feared I may pass out. But as soon Joker Out went on, I felt instantly better (probably the dopamine) and enjoyed the rest of the concert just fine.

I had surprisingly a lot of voice left, and I am 80% sure I caught Bojan’s eyes at a few points. What I otherwise remember the best was the poor bird flying terrified around in the tent like a moth to a window and Bojan talking to the bird with a heartbreakingly tender voice (before jokingly saying he just pretended to talk to the bird to catch his breath). The setlist was great although in retrospect I missed Novi Val and of course Bluza, my beloved. I later learned that had I been more center or placed on the right side of the stage I could’ve witnessed Bojan hugging Jere at one point (all I saw was Häärijä’s yellow hoodie walking across backstage just before SSOL).

 I will say with both Joker Out and Käärijä I enjoyed their festival performances but missed the connection that you find at the smaller shows, so I am not sure I will go to many more festival gigs with them in the future.

Just before Joker Out had begun their set, I’d incidentally become keeper of @pianist-chan ’s book of memories so I’d had it in my back during the show. I didn’t realize at first why my bag was so light all of a sudden until it struck me, I’d missed the book (still feel horrible about that). This would turn out not to be the only bit of unluck we had this evening since Cass and I was ditched by the busses again, almost scammed by scammy taxies, had to walk down to the truck area to even find a yellow vest to ask for help before going to the camp site, packing our stuff and throwing out our tents in rage. Luckily for us we were able to find a solution making it so we didnt have to sleeping at the camp another night.

Trinkets from Ruisrock v

Camping bracelet

Baby Boo bracelet (not sure who gave me this so please let me know if it was you or you know who it was <3)

Demoni Scream bracelet from @glossykris

Bluza and Slaypose bracelets from @formulalakana

Häärijä-Hojan-Hoost bracelets from @carpblu

Denmark Guy and Are You bracelets (also) from @formulalakana

Clown Bojan and Clown Jere stickers from @i-wasnt-ready-for-this

Bojan drawing from @jaarijani

Jere drawing from @lemon-h4

Bojan drawing from @arachn11da

Khäärijä sticker and Bojere drawing from @flananjan

Bojan (in Malmö :3) card from Elmi (not sure if you are on tumblr)

Joker Out Ruisrock sticker from @korre

[misshoneyimhome]

So here’s my post for @callsign-denmark's Birthday Bingo 🤗 Naturally, I had to choose my beloved Frederik Andersen ❤️

I know this is also part of my 500 FOLLOWERS FESTIVAL, but I thought, why not combine the two celebrations ✨🥂 I really hope you like it, love! And, of course, HAPPY BIRTHDAY for the 13th 🥳🥳

[In short, this is basically 'just' a series of events that I imagine it could be like dating Freddie - but I still hope it's an enjoyable read]

➼｡ﾟ

Summary: The journey of Frederik and Olive wasn’t as straightforward as Olive had hoped—however, on her wedding day, reflecting on it all, she can’t help but smile as she tells their story 🤍

Bingo; Wedding, “Please stay”, comfort, learning to skate, Free space: heartache

Tropes & warnings; strangers to lovers, soulmates, heartache, fluff, angsty romance, happy ending; some smut 18+ (mildly described), penetrative sex (p in v)

Word count; 8K

➼｡ﾟ

“I am done. I'm done waiting for you." I Freddie Andersen

Present 2025 - The Wedding

Olive rose from her seat, her heart fluttering like a trapped bird in her chest. The soft, elegant fabric of her wedding dress whispered around her ankles as she glanced nervously at the sea of expectant faces before her. This was her moment, her wedding day, yet the spotlight felt uncomfortably bright.

In her hand, the delicate crystal glass held a few sips of champagne, a lifeline amidst her nerves; and beside her, a neatly handwritten speech, its words a testament to the journey she and her new husband had travelled together.

Just as she was about to speak, a reassuring warmth enveloped her; Frederik's hand, familiar and steady, rested gently on her lower back. His touch sent a wave of calm through her, grounding her in the present moment.

"You've got this, min skat," his voice, a soft murmur meant only for her ears, whispered encouragement.

Drawing strength from his presence, Olive closed her eyes briefly, allowing herself a moment to collect her thoughts. Then, with a deep breath, she opened her eyes again, her gaze steady and determined.

“Most of you here have probably already heard the story - or versions of the story - of how Freddie and I met," she began, her voice clear and steady, carrying across the room. "But what many of you don’t know is that, though it was definitely love at first sight, the journey of our love wasn’t exactly a straight path.”

_

Flashback to September 2021

Frederik Andersen had just settled into Raleigh, North Carolina, having joined the Carolina Hurricanes for the upcoming season. The city, with its Southern charm and vibrant hockey culture, presented a new adventure waiting to unfold. And while adjusting to a new place and team was both exciting and daunting, he relished the challenge ahead on the ice. The welcoming nature of the Hurricanes' fans and the supportive atmosphere of the organisation made the transition smoother, yet there was still an underlying pressure to prove himself.

Frederik was a formidable goaltender, and he knew it. With several years in the NHL on his CV, he had earned a reputation for his sharp reflexes, keen game sense, and unwavering composure under pressure. He occasionally allowed himself a pat on the back, reminding himself of his achievements, which included crucial saves in high-stakes games, accolades from his peers, and the respect of coaches and teammates across the league.

However, Frederik was also aware of his veteran status in the sport. At 32 years old, he was no longer among the young talents but counted among the experienced players. The whispers of time's relentless march were growing louder, and he often reflected on his journey: the countless hours of training, the injuries overcome, the sacrifices made. Each scar and accolade told the story of his perseverance and passion for the game.

The physical demands of hockey were always present. Frederik maintained a rigorous training regime, balancing on-ice drills with off-ice conditioning to keep his body in peak form. He worked closely with the team's trainers to ensure he could withstand the gruelling schedule of an NHL season. Despite the toll on his body, his love for the game remained undiminished.

And mentally, Frederik embraced his role as a leader and mentor to younger players. He took pride in guiding rookies, sharing insights from his years of experience, and helping them navigate the challenges of professional hockey. His wisdom and steady presence in the locker room were invaluable, fostering a sense of camaraderie and mutual respect among the team.

Yet, Frederik also found himself contemplating life beyond hockey, recognising the importance of a balanced life.

_

One evening, during a team dinner at one of Raleigh's top restaurants, Frederik found himself momentarily drawn to the bar. The atmosphere buzzed with the chatter of teammates and the clinking of glasses. The restaurant boasted an upscale ambiance and exquisite cuisine, with subdued lighting and elegant decor creating an intimate setting for conversations and laughter.

Approaching the bar, Frederik caught sight of a young woman who immediately captivated him. She moved gracefully, her dark hair flowing over her shoulders as she expertly mixed drinks. There was something mesmerising about her—a quiet confidence that caught his attention.

So, leaning casually against the bar counter, the goaltender offered a soft smile and requested, "A Whiskey Sour, please," speaking gently while subtly admiring the bartender's skilled movements. She responded with a professional smile and nodded, focusing on preparing his drink with practised ease.

And as she worked, Frederik couldn’t help but watch her every move. What started as simply observing a skilled bartender at work felt like watching an entertaining ballet performance, captivated by her beauty.

"Here you go, sir," she said in her gentle, sweet voice, interrupting Freddie’s train of thought as she slid the drink across the bar with a warm smile. "Please, enjoy."

"Thank you," Frederik replied simply, returning her smile before taking a sip of his drink. It was perfect, the balance of flavours just right. He savoured the taste, appreciating the craftsmanship, and allowed himself another moment to enjoy the woman’s captivating grace before returning to his table.

And throughout the evening, the usually composed hockey veteran couldn’t help himself, occasionally stealing glances at the bartender. He was so intrigued by her poise and how effortlessly she handled the bustling crowd. She exuded a calm demeanour, much like himself, as she attended to customers with a friendly manner.

Later that night, as Frederik made his way through the bustling restaurant towards the men's room, he overheard fragments of conversations—a blend of laughter, casual banter, and occasional complaints about the noise. And near the end of the bar, he noticed a waitress and the beautiful bartender fully engaged in a quiet discussion, their voices carrying over the background clamour.

"Ugh, I can't wait until this shift is over. These hockey jerks are so loud," sighed the waitress, deftly balancing a stack of empty glasses, her frustration evident.

The bartender chuckled softly, her voice tinged with amusement despite sharing the waitress's sentiment. "Yeah, seriously. They act like they own the place."

Frederik couldn't help but smile to himself at their candid remarks. It was refreshing to hear such honest commentary amidst the usual polite chatter and flattery he encountered; their authenticity was a stark contrast to the sometimes superficial interactions that came with his status as a professional athlete.

After inadvertently eavesdropping, Frederik continued on his way, the conversation between the waitress and bartender lingering in his mind. Then rejoining his teammates, he engaged in their lively discussions and good-natured teasing throughout the evening.

Yet, as the night progressed and the players prepared to leave, Frederik found himself unable to shake the thoughts of the bartender. Her directness, grace, and quiet confidence had made a profound impact on him. Despite not even knowing her name, he felt an inexplicable urge to discover more about her.

As he was about to leave the restaurant, though, he realised with disappointment that she had already left her post. And as he made his way home, he felt a twinge of regret for not taking action sooner.

_

Flashback continued

About a week later, Frederik found himself at an ice skating rink with some of his new teammates and their family members for an open event before the hockey season started. The rink resounded with laughter, the sharp cuts of skates on ice, and the occasional thud of someone falling. Children wobbled around with their parents' careful guidance, while teenagers zipped across, showing off their skating prowess. The atmosphere was vibrant with infectious joy.

And gliding gracefully across the ice, enjoying the freedom and the cool breeze against his face, Frederik then spotted the bartender again. This time, though, she seemed a bit unsure on the ice, cautiously navigating with a few friends. They held onto each other for support, their faces lit up with both delight and mild apprehension as they tried to maintain balance.

Frederik couldn’t help but feel his heart skip a beat as he recognised her. He watched her for a moment, admiring the sparkle in her eyes and the clarity of her laughter amidst the rink's commotion. He could see her determination as she concentrated on staying upright, a mix of focus and joy that only enhanced her charm.

However, interrupted by Jarvy, Frederik shook his head and refocused on his teammates and friends. But a little while later, after signing several autographs, his mind was elsewhere as he made a few more rounds. Suddenly, he gently collided with someone, his larger frame absorbing most of the impact. Quickly reaching out to steady the person, Frederik's hands were firm yet gentle on their arms.

"I'm so sorry," he apologised reflexively, genuine concern evident in his eyes as he looked down, only to notice it was none other than the bartender he’d been so keen on watching earlier that day.

The bartender smiled sheepishly, her cheeks flushed from the unexpected encounter. "No, it's my fault. I'm just not that great at skating," she admitted, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.

Gracefully helping her steady herself, Frederik reminded himself not to let the moment pass. "I'm Freddie, by the way," he quickly introduced himself with a warm smile—perhaps a little too rushed, but he hoped to ease any awkwardness.

The bartender let out a soft laugh. "Yeah, I know," she replied with a hint of playfulness in her voice. "You’re the goaltender for the Carolina Hurricanes."

"Right," Frederik sighed softly, slightly disappointed that this was the only reason she recognised him. Yet, just as he was about to say something else, she spoke again with a smile.

"And you were at the restaurant last week. I remember serving you a drink."

That made Frederik let out a soft chuckle. "Yeah, with the rest of the hockey jerks," he said, recalling her remark, teasing gently and causing her to blush slightly.

"Oh right - gosh, I’m so sorry about that… It's not that we don't like you guys... it’s just… We were just really tired during that shift," she explained, feeling a bit embarrassed as she looked up at him, her eyes sincere.

But Frederik just shook his head. "No need to apologise. I get it," he reassured her, his smile comforting as he admired her honesty and the way she didn't shy away from the truth.

"Anyway, I won’t take up more of your time, Freddie. You’re busy with your hockey stuff—but I am sorry about the collision—and the comment last week," she offered him a smile.

But as she then began to carefully skate away, Frederik couldn't resist calling out, "Wait, what's your name?"

Turning her head, she replied with a smile, "Olive, but my friends call me Liv.”

He watched her rejoin her friends, her laughter and presence still standing out in the crowd. And from that moment on, Frederik found himself thinking about Olive's smile, her easy laughter, and the genuine warmth he felt in her presence.

Similarly, Olive couldn't shake off the impression Frederik had left on her. She had expected him to be like the rest—cocky and self-assured—but instead, she found him surprisingly humble and kind. His gentle demeanour and the way he had treated her with respect and kindness had caught her off guard in the best possible way.

And surprisingly, the universe seemed to conspire to bring them together, causing their paths to casually cross over the next few weeks.

Olive attended her first Hurricanes home game with her hockey enthusiast friends, who had also managed to arrange a meet-and-greet with some of the players for an autograph session before the match. The excitement of the crowd was palpable, and Olive quickly found herself swept up in the fans’ energy.

And naturally, among the players, Frederik was there, who immediately spotted Olive in the crowd. His heart raced as he instinctively made his way over to her, nerves bubbling up unexpectedly as he focused solely on her, ignoring everyone else around him.

"Hey, Olive," he greeted, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

"Oh hi, Freddie," she replied, her eyes sparkling with recognition.

The noise of the crowd softly faded into the background as they connected in a gaze. And completely captivated by Olive's charm, Frederik momentarily forgot his surroundings. She had a way of making him feel at ease, her laughter contagious and her insights thoughtful.

But then her friends approached, their jaws almost dropping as they realised Olive was actually on a first-name - well, nickname - basis with Frederik Andersen.

And Frederik couldn’t help but chuckle at their reaction. Yet, ever the professional, he quickly offered them autographs, followed by Olive taking photos of them. 

“Hey, what about you, Liv?” one of her friends suggested.

“Oh no, that’s okay,” she timidly replied.

Frederik offered her a soft smile, trying his best to hide any hints of disappointment. However, her other friend pressed on and encouraged Olive to stand close to Frederik, prompting him to gently wrap his arm around her. “Come on, Liv! You know you want to.”

Olive felt slightly awkward standing next to the towering goaltender, yet she couldn’t deny how comfortable his presence felt. His body was warm against hers, his hand gently resting on her waist as they both smiled at the camera.

But their moment was fleeting as Frederik was then quickly called away to continue his obligations. Yet, just before parting ways, he gathered his courage and asked Olive out for coffee.

And naturally, she quickly accepted with a smile that lit up the room. They exchanged numbers, and as Frederik then walked away, he felt a sense of excitement he hadn't felt in a long time. The anticipation of their upcoming coffee date filled him with a warmth that stayed with him long after he had left the arena.

_

Flashback to October 2021

Frederik and Olive's first coffee date was nothing short of blissful. They sat across from each other in a cosy café, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the warmth of their conversation. The café itself was charming, with exposed brick walls adorned with local artwork and soft jazz music playing in the background. And from the moment they started talking, time seemed to slip away unnoticed.

Frederik was genuinely fascinated by Olive's travels and her passion for writing. He listened intently as she animatedly described her favourite destinations and the stories she hoped to tell through her works. Olive's eyes lit up as she recounted her adventures in Paris, her quiet retreat in a small village in Tuscany, and the bustling markets of Marrakech. She shared stories of the characters she had met along the way, the inspiration they provided for her writing, and her dream of publishing a novel one day.

In return, Olive found herself captivated by Frederik's hockey experiences, his dedication to his craft, and the unwavering support of his family in his success. He shared tales from his childhood in Denmark, where his father first introduced him to the sport, and the journey that led him from local rinks to the NHL. Frederik spoke passionately about the thrill of his first professional game, the camaraderie among his teammates, and the sacrifices he had made to pursue his passion.

And as the evening drew to a close, neither of them wanted the night to end. They lingered outside the café, reluctant to part ways, with the city lights casting a soft glow around them, creating a magical atmosphere. Then with a shy smile, Frederik asked Olive if she would like to meet again.

"Definitely," she replied quickly, her heart fluttering with excitement.

And about a week later, they met for dinner at a quaint restaurant tucked away in a quiet corner of Raleigh. The atmosphere was intimate, with flickering candlelight casting a soft glow over their faces as they continued to talk and laugh effortlessly.

The restaurant's rustic charm, featuring wooden beams and vintage décor, added to the sense of intimacy as they discovered common interests and a shared sense of humour that strengthened their connection. They laughed over their mutual love for different cuisines, shared their favourite books and music, and debated quirky action films.

“No way,” Olive insisted. “Die Hard is NOT a Christmas movie.”

Frederik chuckled. “Well, it does take place during a Christmas party, and it’s listed under the category of Christmas classics on Disney+, so… that settles it.”

Olive shook her head. “Well, they seriously need to do some proper research then.”

From the moment they met, Frederik was charmed by Olive's wit and intelligence, while Olive admired Frederik's humility and genuine kindness. Their connection was undeniable, and neither felt any awkwardness or doubt as they spent hour after hour together.

However, as weeks turned into months, the demands of Frederik's hockey season took precedence. His schedule was filled with training sessions, games, and team commitments, leaving little time for leisurely dates and quiet moments with Olive. Days became a whirlwind of practices, strategy meetings, and travel for away games, and Frederik found himself constantly on the move, with little opportunity to catch his breath.

Despite his best intentions, maintaining regular contact with Olive became a challenge. Text messages went unanswered for hours, and plans for meet-ups were often postponed. Frederik knew he was letting her slip through his fingers, but the relentless pace of the season left him torn between his passion for hockey and his growing feelings for her.

Meanwhile, Olive began to feel uncertainty creeping in. While she cherished the moments they had shared and the connection they had formed, she couldn't shake the feeling of being sidelined as the hockey season intensified. She tried to understand Frederik's commitments, but deep down, she couldn't help feeling neglected and unimportant.

Many evenings were spent alone, reminiscing about their time together, and Olive found herself drafting texts to him, only to delete them out of fear of appearing needy and clingy. The growing silence between them became deafening, amplifying her doubts and insecurities.

So, as weeks turned into months, Olive reluctantly started to distance herself emotionally. She convinced herself that their relationship was merely a fleeting romance—a beautiful chapter in her life, but not meant to last. She buried her feelings, telling herself that perhaps Frederik had never felt as strongly for her as she had hoped. Then turning to her writing, Olive used her emotions as fuel for her stories, seeking solace in her creative expression.

Their once vibrant connection began to fade, replaced by a bittersweet ache of what could have been. Despite sensing the shift in Olive's demeanour, Frederik felt powerless to bridge the growing gap between them amidst the demands of his career and the pressures of the season. He missed her laughter, her stories, and the way she grounded him, but changing the situation seemed beyond his control.

And as the hockey season reached its peak, Frederik and Olive found themselves drifting further apart, their love story seemingly slipping away into memories and what-ifs. The initial spark that had brought them together dimmed under the weight of unspoken words and missed opportunities, leaving both with a lingering sense of loss.

_

Flashback to December 2021

As Frederik had finally settled into his role within the team and achieved a better balance between his career and personal life, thoughts of Olive quickly returned to occupy his mind. It had been two months since their paths had diverged, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he had let something special slip away. Determined to make amends, he gathered his courage and reached out to her, hoping for an opportunity to reconnect.

To his surprise and relief, Olive agreed to meet him again. She approached this reunion cautiously, wary of opening herself up to potential hurt once more. Despite her reservations, she found herself unable to resist Frederik's gentle persistence and the lingering memories of their time together.

So, for their next outing, Frederik suggested ice skating, eager to make up for their awkward first encounter on the ice. Arriving at the rink with a mix of excitement and nerves, Olive felt a flutter of anticipation as she laced up her skates beside Frederik. He flashed her a reassuring smile, his warm honey-brown eyes filled with determination to make this experience memorable for both of them.

And sensing her slight struggles, Frederik then knelt before her, gently taking over to tie her skates properly. It felt almost like a Cinderella moment for Olive as she gazed down at Frederik, who effortlessly secured the laces. And she couldn't help but feel a rush of affectionate emotions within her.

"There you go," he interrupted her thoughts, looking up with a smile. "All sorted?"

Olive nodded eagerly, "Absolutely."

Then stepping onto the ice, Frederik took Olive's hand in his, his touch tender and supportive as he guided her patiently, explaining the basics of balance and movement. His voice became a comforting backdrop to the sounds of blades slicing through the ice.

Olive chuckled at her initial wobbles, finding reassurance in his encouraging words and steady grip. And as they glided across the rink together, Frederik led with the grace born of years spent on the ice, and Olive followed his lead, gaining confidence with each lap they completed. Their laughter mingled as they shared in the delight of their newfound rhythm, the awkwardness of their first attempt melting away in the warmth of their shared smiles.

After a few laps around the ice, they paused to catch their breath, leaning against the rink's railings. Frederik's eyes sparkled with admiration as he looked at Olive, proud of her progress and the passion she displayed for something he cherished deeply. They exchanged stories and laughter, savouring the simple pleasure of being together again in this moment of shared joy.

And by the end of their date, Olive felt a sense of achievement she hadn't anticipated. Not only had she improved her skating skills under Frederik's patient guidance, but she also felt closer to him than ever before. The spark of their connection had reignited amidst the playful banter and shared triumphs on the ice, leaving them both with a renewed sense of closeness and affection.

As they left the rink, hand in hand, she just couldn’t help but marvel at how Frederik had transformed what could have been a daunting experience into a cherished memory. Once again, she found herself drawn to his easy charm and genuine kindness. Yet, she guarded her heart, reminding herself that they were embarking on a fresh start—a new beginning without expectations of where it might lead.

Frederik felt a deep sense of contentment. The day had surpassed his expectations, not just in reigniting their connection but in reaffirming the bond they shared. So, as they strolled away from the rink, the night air crisp and filled with promise, he suddenly halted and spoke with confidence.

"Hey Liv."

"Yes, Freddie?"

But Frederik didn’t really need to say anything. Instead, with gallantry and genuine care, he simply stole a tender kiss from her—a gesture he had contemplated all day but hadn’t dared to attempt until he was sure she desired him as much as he desired her.

Needless to say, Olive eagerly returned the kiss with equal longing.

Fortunately, their next meeting came less than a week later, and this time it was at a Hurricanes home game in the PNC Arena. The atmosphere was tense as the team faced off against the New York Islanders, but despite their best efforts, the Canes suffered a disappointing loss. The crowd, which had been electric with anticipation all night, now buzzed with the sting of defeat as everyone gradually dispersed from their seats.

Frederik's emotions were raw after the game. He didn’t want Olive to witness his vulnerability so soon after reconnecting, to see him like that. But as she approached him in the corridor with a comforting smile, he couldn't resist the pull of her empathy and genuine care. So, instinctively, he pulled her into a tight hug, seeking comfort in her presence.

"Hey, you did amazing, Freddie," Olive said, looking up at him as he released his arms from around her smaller frame.

"I know," he sighed deeply. "But a loss is still a loss."

Olive tried her best to muster a smile in the face of disappointment. "Well, the good thing about hitting rock bottom is that at least it can't get any worse."

Frederik couldn’t help but let a smile appear on his lips, her words both comforting and amusing. And as they made their way out of the arena, Frederik insisted on driving Olive home, to which she happily accepted. However, neither of them wanted the night to end on a sombre note, so Olive invited him inside her apartment.

The small space was cosy and filled with personal touches—framed photos, shelves lined with books, and soft, ambient lighting that created an inviting atmosphere. And in the quiet intimacy of Olive's living room, they swiftly engaged in heartfelt conversations that ranged from hockey to their deepest aspirations and fears. 

Olive shared her recent writing submission to the local paper, expressing her dreams of building a career beyond bartending and the fears that sometimes held her back. Frederik, in turn, opened up about the pressures of his career, the constant demand to perform, and the uncertainty of what lay ahead after his time in the NHL. 

It was a tender evening marked by sensitive topics, and as their emotions lay bare, their connection only deepened, culminating in a tender kiss.

Surprising even herself, Olive let go of her reservations, allowing their kiss to deepen into something more passionate and consuming. In that moment, their physical desire mirrored the emotional intensity they had both been denying themselves for so long. Each touch and caress spoke volumes of their longing and the bond they shared.

Then with unspoken understanding and mutual consent, they moved to Olive's bedroom, where their bodies eagerly intertwined in an expression that transcended mere physical attraction. Frederik took his time undressing her, studying every curve of her body as his fingers gently explored her smooth skin, gradually exposing more of her.

Meanwhile, Olive found herself unable to suppress her desire for him. Each touch and caress ignited a deeper longing, and as she helped him discard his clothing as well, she savoured the feel of his muscles beneath her palms. 

No words were necessary as their eyes locked in a tender gaze, a profound connection as Frederik positioned himself above her on the mattress. Then without hesitation, he lined himself up with her entrance and eased himself into her, causing moans to escape them both as their bodies joined together. With every movement, every thrust and kiss, the heat between them intensified. Their lovemaking was tender yet passionate, a culmination of deep, raw lust and heartfelt emotions for one another.

As they moved together in sync, quickening the pace and getting closer to the brim of ecstacy, their moans grew deeper and louder, names slipping off their tongues. Then with a few more final pounds, they managed to reach an intense climax together, a rush filling their minds as they breathed heavily and allowed euphoria to take over. 

And in the serene aftermath, nestled in each other's embrace, Frederik and Olive found solace in the warmth of their connection, the steady rhythm of their breathing echoing softly in the room. As they drifted into sleep, intertwined and content, they realised they were no longer merely skirting around their emotions—they were diving headfirst into the depths of a love that had patiently been waiting.

_

Flashback to February 2022

Olive experienced every moment with Frederik Andersen as a whirlwind of emotions and passion. Their dates were filled with laughter, deep conversations, and an increasing sense of closeness that left her breathless. Day by day, she found herself falling deeper in love with him, his presence becoming both comforting and exhilarating in her life.

Their physical connection was undeniable, each touch igniting a fire within her unlike anything she had felt before, as Frederik's tender caresses and passionate embraces brought her to heights of pleasure she had only dreamed of. It was in those intimate moments, she felt a connection that went beyond the physical—a deep bond that whispered promises of forever.

Olive simply found herself completely in love and believed she had found her soulmate in Frederik. She cherished their time together, treasuring every stolen kiss and shared glance as precious moments. In his arms, she felt safe, cherished, and truly alive.

However, Frederik was struggling with his own internal battle. While he cared deeply for Olive, and possibly even loved her, he couldn't ignore the demands of his hockey career. And as their relationship grew, he felt torn between being a devoted boyfriend to her and giving his all to his training and team responsibilities.

So, after navigating this delicate balance for several months, which included sharing meaningful moments during the Christmas season, Frederik came to a painful realisation. He knew that continuing their relationship would mean sacrificing valuable time and focus on his career—a sacrifice he wasn't prepared to make.

And caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, Frederik wrestled with how to best handle the situation. Part of him considered reducing their time together, hoping Olive would understand his need to prioritise hockey. Yet, after agonising over the decision, he ultimately concluded that ending their relationship was the kindest option, sparing Olive from further heartache and disappointment.

With a heavy heart, Frederik then explained to her that he needed to focus on his career and couldn't give her the time and commitment she deserved. 

Olive was completely blindsided by his decision. She had believed their love was deep and meaningful, capable of overcoming ayn challenges including his demanding career. So, naturally, the sudden breakup left her reeling with a mix of anger, betrayal, and heartbreak.

She struggled to understand how their seemingly profound connection could be discarded so easily. In her anguish, she felt deceived and used, convinced that Frederik had viewed her as a temporary distraction—a fleeting amusement with no lasting significance.

Beneath her hurt, anger simmered not only towards Frederik but also towards herself for believing so blindly in a love that seemed one-sided. Rejection wounded her deeply, shaking her self-worth and trust in her own judgement.

Despite the ache in her heart, Olive sought solace in the memories they had created—the laughter, passion, and genuine moments of connection. So, as she navigated the aftermath of their breakup, she made a solemn vow to protect herself from further heartache. She resolved to focus on healing, rebuilding her confidence, and learning to trust again—knowing that with time, the pain would ease and she would emerge stronger.

For now, however, the wound remained raw, and the weight of lost love hung heavily on her soul.

_

Flashback to April 2022

Months passed, and Olive gradually began to mend her broken heart. She tried to distract herself with casual flings and meaningless encounters in an effort to fill the void left by Frederik's abrupt departure. Yet, no matter how hard she tried to move forward, reminders of him persisted in her life.

As the goaltender for the city's beloved hockey team, Frederik Andersen was omnipresent in the media and among her friends, many of whom were avid fans. Olive couldn't escape reminders of him—the sight of his face on billboards, mentions of his name in conversations, and the ache in her heart whenever she watched him play.

Her mornings started with glimpses of him on TV highlights, a reminder of their shared passion for life. During lunches with friends, his name inevitably came up, forcing her to mask her discomfort with forced smiles and polite nods. Evenings brought photos of him on social media, where friends shared moments of his public life that she felt painfully excluded from.

Olive had never fully confided in her friends about the depth of her heartbreak, brushing off their gentle inquiries with a simple explanation that their relationship had ended due to his demanding schedule—partially true. However, her friends could see through her façade, sensing the pain that flickered in her eyes whenever Frederik's name arose. And their supportive embraces and silent understanding provided some solace amid the tumultuous emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

One evening, her friends managed to convince her to join them for another Hurricanes home game. By then, Olive had grown somewhat numb to the sharp sting of seeing Frederik on the ice, resigned to the ache in her heart that seemed to have taken up permanent residence.

And as the game progressed, Frederik focused on his performance and the team's objectives. Yet, during a break, as he came to scan the crowd, his gaze suddenly locked onto Olive's familiar face in one of the  front rows. In that instant, the weight of remorse and regret crashed over him like a tidal wave.

When the final buzzer sounded, Frederik's resolve solidified. He knew he needed to speak to Olive, to apologise for the pain he had caused her. So, approaching her cautiously, his heart racing with nerves and determination, he messaged her asking if she could meet him in the locker room after the game.

But Olive couldn't face him so soon. The wounds were still fresh, the emotions raw. So, with a gentle yet firm refusal, she declined his invitation, unsure if she could maintain her composure in his presence.

Despite her reluctance, fate intervened yet again a few days later when Frederik found himself dining at the restaurant where Olive worked. And this time, their paths couldn't avoid crossing. Accompanied by friends, managers, and his agent, Frederik's presence made it impossible for Olive to avoid the unexpected - and perhaps awkward, encounter.

Hours passed as she watched him from the bar, her heart still aching. So ,seeking solace, Olive slipped out behind the restaurant for fresh air, but only to find Frederik following her.

"You shouldn’t be out here," she said firmly, crossing her arms as he approached gently.

"I needed to see you," he said softly, taking a small step forward. 

"Freddie, please, I can’t do this..."

Despite her protest, Frederik moved closer to her. His expression was earnest, his eyes filled with regret and longing. And before she could object further, he pulled her into his arms with force, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that reignited a fire she thought had died.

Passionate and fueled by desire, the kiss brought forth unresolved emotions. Olive struggled against conflicting feelings, torn between past hurt and their undeniable chemistry. Yet, instinctively, her arms found Frederik’s neck, deepening the kiss.

And as the night unfolded, they found themselves back at Olive's apartment, their bodies entwined in a frenzy of longing and need. Their lovemaking was intense, a physical manifestation of the longing and desire that had simmered beneath the surface for months. 

Just like many times before, it felt so effortlessly easy to allow their bodies to melt together. With Olive straddling Frederik, she moved with determination and deep breaths, their moans harmonising while approaching their climaxes. 

Yet, in need for more closeness, Frederik swiftly turned them over into missionary, where he held his face close to hers, thrusting with force and vigorous motions till they both reached the peak in a symphony. 

And in the aftermath of their passionate reunion, Olive found herself whispering those two words that held both vulnerability and hope: "Please, stay."

Frederik knew he shouldn't have stayed. He owed her honesty about where they stood. But in that moment, holding her close, feeling the warmth of her against him, he couldn't leave. She was the love he craved, the one person he couldn’t let go of.

So, they fell asleep together, wrapped in each other's arms, finding solace in shared intimacy.

However, when Olive woke the next morning, she found herself alone in bed. Frederik had left quietly, only leaving behind a simple message: "I'm sorry."

The words echoed in Olive's mind as she lay there, her heart aching with a familiar pain. She had allowed herself to hope for a second chance at love. Yet, Frederik's departure left her grappling once more with uncertainty and heartbreak, questioning if their love story was destined to be fleeting rather than enduring.

_

Flashback to May 2021

For seven turbulent months, Olive experienced the unpredictable highs and lows of love and heartbreak, all because of Frederik Andersen. She had tasted the bliss of their intense connection and endured the pain of his repeated departures. Despite the hurt he caused, she couldn't ignore the enduring love she still felt.

So, to heal her broken heart and move forward, Olive found solace in Colin—a dependable man who offered her security and the attention she craved. Their relationship blossomed, giving her the comfort and stability she had lacked during her tumultuous time with Frederik.

And immersed in this new relationship, Olive gradually regained her confidence and found moments of happiness. Colin was attentive, always ready to listen to her thoughts and dreams, in stark contrast to Frederik's unpredictable presence.

However, despite her growing affection for Colin, she couldn't completely erase Frederik from her heart. Memories of their passionate connection and emotional bond lingered, casting a shadow over her newfound stability. She wrestled with guilt, questioning the fairness of her lingering feelings for Frederik towards Colin.

So, navigating this emotional maze, Olive struggled with conflicting desires, torn between her past and present, unsure of where her true feelings lay.

But as always fate intervened one evening as Frederik unexpectedly saw Olive at a bar during a rare free night in Raleigh. Her laughter and smiles quickly caught his attention, stirring jealousy as he watched her with Colin, making him torn between bantering with his teammates and the painful realisation of what he had lost.

Every laugh, every touch between Olive and Colin felt like a dagger twisting in Frederik's chest, a reminder of the love he had let slip away. His heart ached with longing and regret, unable to bear seeing Olive move on without him.

And so, driven by desperation and needing to confront his feelings, Frederik sought a private moment with her. He found her in a quiet corner of the pub, softly lit by a nearby lamp, and reached out to gently grasp her wrist.

“Liv!” 

"Freddie, please don’t!" Olive exclaimed firmly, trying to pull away, but he held on.

"I’m sorry, but I just can't bear to see you with someone else, please talk to me,” his voice cracked with emotion.

Olive's heart wrenched at the sight of Frederik, vulnerable and exposed. Tears welled in her eyes as she struggled against the surge of desire threatening to engulf her once more. But she knew she had to be strong, to protect herself from the pain he had unintentionally caused.

"No, Freddie," she protested, her voice trembling as she withdrew her hand. "I can't do this anymore."

Her words echoed through the corridor, a painful declaration of finality amidst the noise of the crowded bar. With tears streaming down her face, Olive turned away from Frederik, but he grabbed her arm again, preventing her from leaving.

"Just listen to me..." he pleaded softly, filled with anguish.

Frederik's heart shattered at her rejection. He tried to explain, to beg for another chance, to convey the depth of his feelings and the turmoil within him. But Olive had reached her limit. She could no longer wait for Frederik to prioritise their relationship over his career and uncertainties.

"I'm done, Freddie. I'm done waiting for you," she declared, her voice a mix of grief and determination.

And as she walked away, leaving Frederik alone in the corridor, he was consumed by profound loss and regret. For the first time, he truly felt the weight of his actions—the pain he had caused her, the love he had lost.

In that moment of clarity, Frederik understood the enormity of Olive's love and the depth of his mistakes. He had sacrificed the one relationship that had made him feel alive, and haunted by her words and his own regrets, he vowed to learn from his mistakes. 

But for now, all he could do was stand there, grappling with the ache in his heart, knowing he had shattered the heart of the woman he loved the most.

_

Flashback Continued

The hockey season was reaching its peak, with the Carolina Hurricanes deeply entrenched in a pivotal playoff battle. Frederik Andersen, their dependable goalie, felt the pressure and nerves building as he prepared for the game that could define their postseason fate, as tonight wasn't just about a simple win or loss; it was about advancing to the next round or facing an early end to their season.

Frederik's mind buzzed with strategy and anticipation as he stepped onto the ice, the thunderous cheers of the home crowd echoing through the arena. Each save he made brought a rush of adrenaline, a mix of relief and determination to keep the Hurricanes competitive. Yet beneath his focused exterior, thoughts of Olive lingered—a poignant distraction that fuelled his drive to succeed while stirring up unresolved emotions.

Meanwhile, in the stands, Olive sat at the edge of her seat beside Colin, her gaze fixed on Frederik as he moved swiftly and decisively in goal. Her initial casual interest in hockey had evolved into genuine passion over the past many months, ignited by Frederik's skill and the intensity of playoff hockey. Despite her efforts to conceal it, Colin couldn't ignore the subtle changes in Olive's demeanour whenever the goalie made a crucial save or endured the disappointment of a goal against.

And as the game intensified and emotions ran high, Olive found herself torn between the thrill of the Hurricanes' offensive surges and the ache in her heart whenever Frederik faced relentless shots. She stole brief glances at Colin, aware of the unspoken tension between them—a delicate balance disrupted by Frederik's undeniable hold on her.

The Hurricanes fought fiercely, but midway through the third period, disaster struck as Frederik was substituted—a crushing blow for any goalie. His frustration was palpable as he slammed his stick on the rink railing on his way to the locker room, burdened by the weight of the team's playoff hopes.

And watching Frederik's despondent demeanour from the stands stirred a familiar ache in Olive's chest—a mix of empathy for his disappointment and a desire to comfort him. She felt torn, caught between her loyalty to Colin and the lingering emotions she still harboured for Frederik.

But then when the opposing team scored yet another goal, dashing any hope of a comeback, Olive's resolve wavered. Deciding on excusing herself from her seat, she made her way towards the locker room, driven by an irresistible urge to find Frederik amidst the playoff game chaos.

And navigating the familiar maze-like corridors of the arena, she finally reached the locker room area, where Frederik would be reflecting on his performance. The sound of subdued voices and equipment filled the air as she cautiously approached the doorway to the team's inner sanctum.

There he sat, alone in his stall, still clad in his gear, head bowed in contemplation. Yet, as he glanced up and saw Olive standing in the doorway, tears welling in her eyes, Frederik's heart skipped a beat.

"Liv," he murmured softly, his voice tinged with fragile hope.

Solid tears streamed down Olive's cheeks as she struggled to compose herself. She had come intending to offer comfort, but now as she was so close to him once more, she was overwhelmed by a rush of emotions—the months of shared memories, the lingering warmth of their connection, and the ache of their tumultuous past.

Frederik then swiftly rose from the seat and cautiously approached her. And with no words spoken, Olive instinctively rushed to close the distance between them, drawn to the familiarity and solace Frederik offered in his embrace. He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up in a close, desperate union that spoke of longing, regret, and unspoken love.

Their lips met in a passionate kiss, her hands finding their way into Frederik's hair as she held him tightly, unwilling to let go.

Then breaking away from the heated kiss, they stood breathless. Olive knew she couldn't stay, couldn't betray Colin's trust, yet a part of her yearned to linger in Frederik's embrace forever.

"Please, stay..." Frederik pleaded, his voice filled with desperation and vulnerability. "Liv, I want you. I need you… I can’t be without you…"

Tears continued to stream down Olive's cheeks as she struggled with the torment of her conflicted emotions. "Freddie... I can't," she whispered hoarsely. "You'll just hurt me again..."

But Frederik held her tightly, his eyes pleading for her understanding. "No, not this time, Olive. I love you..."

"I love you too, Freddie," she simply confessed, her voice barely audible amidst the storm of emotions within her.

They sealed their renewed bond with another heartfelt kiss, but Olive knew she couldn't continue deceiving Colin. Despite the pain it would cause, she had to be honest with him about her feelings for Frederik. It wasn't fair to him, nor to herself, to deny the depth of her love for the man who had captured her heart months ago.

And as the Hurricanes faced an early playoff exit, Frederik and Olive sought solace in each other's arms that night, rekindling their passion amidst the echoes of disappointment.

Together, they embraced the uncertainty of their future, knowing that their love story was far from over—it was just beginning.

_

Present 2025 - The Wedding

Three years had passed swiftly, filled with love, challenges, and unwavering commitment.

As Olive concluded her heartfelt speech, basking in the applause from their friends and family, she couldn't suppress the radiant smile that spread across her face. While Frederik, her anchor and soulmate, sat beside her, his eyes filled with admiration and love.

The venue, adorned in soft hues of ivory and gold, resonated with the tender emotions of the occasion. And Olive's voice carried with a blend of sincerity and gratitude as she thanked their loved ones for their steadfast support and recounted cherished memories of their journey together. Her words were interspersed with laughter and tears, each moment affirming the depth of their bond.

Frederik knew he couldn't match Olive's speech with words alone. Despite help from loved ones in composing his own speech, he grappled with expressing the simplicity and sincerity that defined his feelings. So, rising from his seat, he briefly glanced at his notes, the inked words reflecting his devotion and the path they had walked together.

"I've never been one for lengthy speeches…" Frederik began, his voice steady with emotion. "And I'm sure many of you here know that. But that's okay, because..." He paused, taking a deep breath. "The only thing that truly matters, the only thing I need to say, is that... I love you, Liv. I have loved you from the moment I first saw you, even when I didn't trust myself to love." His gaze locked onto Olive's, their eyes meeting in a shared moment.

A reassuring smile spread across her face as she listened intently, her heart swelling with the weight of his words. Frederik’s voice grew stronger with each heartfelt sentence, resonating with the depth of their shared experiences. "I've never quite understood why you chose me," he continued, his tone filled with humility and adoration. "But I've stopped questioning it. What matters is that we chose each other. And I promise, with all my heart, to be the best husband I can be for you, for the rest of our lives."

Their love story wasn't a simple fairy tale romance devoid of challenges or imperfections. It was real, raw, and deeply meaningful—a journey marked by growth, forgiveness, and unwavering commitment. It was a testament to their resilience, having weathered every storm together, emerging stronger and more deeply in love each time.

The End

[missmaywemeetagain]

The Sound of Your Cry (A Scarf Exclusive!) is out now on Patreon!

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TW: Flashbacks/PTSD/panic attacks related to previous abuse, Jack is mentioned, Elvis being protective, sexxy times!!

Late January, 1970

While Elvis chatters away to Jerry, the elevator gets smaller and smaller the higher it climbs towards the penthouse. It’s a trip you’ve made many times, yet this time has you nervously twisting the diamond engagement ring on your finger and your heart slamming against your ribs. The air is stuffy and thin, and you can’t seem to get enough of it to properly breathe.

The door finally dings, sliding open, and the men spill out of the elevator unceremoniously, leaving you lingering in the back. As much as you want to get out of the tiny box, it seems worse to walk down the hallway. Worse to open the door to all the things you’d rather forget.

Your unease started all the way back in Tennessee, inching in slowly as the new year faded. The bustle of your engagement and the celebration of Elvis’ 35th birthday took up the beginning weeks of the year, but as the date of his new festival in Las Vegas inched closer, the more your stomach churned.

It is just nerves, you thought at first. Your debut performance as one of Elvis’ backup singers is a big deal, especially for someone like you with next to no experience on stage, much less with someone as famous as your fiancé. That had to be why the thought of getting on a plane to Las Vegas made you want to throw up.

But the moment you entered the International, you realized that wasn’t it at all...

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Taglist Pt 1

@eliseinmemphis@russian-soft-bitch@tattywood

@sassanoe@thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle@carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23

 @littlebitofgreen@paigevis@bugg06@xhannahbananax03@artlover8992

@18lkpeters@frozenhuntress67@girlblogger2002@kendralavon7@misspresley

@be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis @from-memphis-with-love

 @precious-lil-scoundrel @stylespresleyhearted @prompted-wordsmith @crash-and-cure @elvisgf @lookingforrainbows @fic-over-cannon @godlypresley @ab4eva @whatstruthgottodowithit @elvisabutler @amydarcimarie@idontwanttoputanything @callieselvisobsessed @captainamerica1235-blog  @xenaspace3-blog 

@simplyamberj@claire-elvisgirl@everythingelvispresley@louisejoy86@deniseinmn @madelynpresley

[cakexblankett]

Tag

Green

Words

817

~•~

You looked around, only then noticing the amount of couples there were. You were in the middle of the crowd, it was packed with people, holding hands or hugging eachother, and then there was you, alone. You looked up at the dark blue sky, stars shining bright above you. The moon was full and bright, lighting slightly the night.

You had a flashback of the year that passed. You cried, you laughed, you found love...

You remembered the day you met her. You had only started your first year of university, and your first subject of the day was about to start. You waited patiently for the professor to arrive, sitting at the last row. You chatted a bit with the girl beside you. She was nice but you hadn't too much in common so it was a bit hard communicating.

Then she arrived, in all her glory. The professor cleared her voice and scrutinized the crowd. You looked at her in awe. She had red curls, blue eyes and lips that seemed so kissable, you wanted to jump at her and see if that theory was true.

You then started attending her every lecture, discarding the others. You just wanted to see her, you didn't even pay that much attention to the lesson. You watched her every move; how she motioned her hands while she spoke, how she quirked her eyebrow when somebody said something idiotic, how her lips motioned upwards when somebody said something intelligent. Her voice was soft like summer rain, and sweet like peaches.

Everyday, you tried to find a reason to talk to her. At times, you consulted her because you didn't understand something- and that was true, since you only paid attention to how her lips moved but not to the words escaping them. When it was a festivity, you gifted her chocolates or flowers, ignoring the looks of the other students.

At first, she was cold and distant. She replied briefly, asking you to pay more attention during the lecture. But slowly, she started accepting your gifts.

She even let you call her by her first name: Zelda. You repeated her name like a mantra, when you woke up, when you were arriving to the lecture, when you left the class, when you were on the train, when you arrived back home, before saying goodnight. Her name sounded fantastic, and it was so her. She looked like a Zelda.

One day, you received an e-mail from her. You were ecstatic. You opened it immediately. She asked you to go see her in her office. You giggled, starstrucked. You prepared yourself in less than five minutes and literally ran to her. You talked about how was the studying going, diverting then to talking about anything and everything.

She made you feel at ease, feel secure. For her birthday, you surprised her with a birthday cake made from scratch by you. It didn't look that fancy, and it didn't taste that good, but she complimented you nonetheless. You blushed, smiling.

Then you confessed. You told her your feelings, and it all crumbled down. She explained to you that she was your professor, she couldn't be with you, even she liked to be.

And so she began acting colder and colder by day, she returned to replying to you with short sentences, she didn't accept any more gifts. You cried and cried, for months.

"... 10..."

You shook your head, making those memories go away. You took a sip of you champagne, looking at the crowd.

"... 9..."

Your heart ached. You tried to forget her, but you were unable to. She was ingrained in your memory.

"... 8..."

You just wished she was there, even if only as your professor. You wished to start the year with her.

"... 7..."

You finished your glass. A hand slithered around your stomach. You gasped, looking behind you.

"... 6..."

Your jaw dropped.

"Hello dear."

She smirked. You stared at her in disbelief, her hand now on your hip. The contact of her palm on your clothed skin made you shiver.

"... 5..."

You tried talking but you couldn't emanate a sound. Her eyes pierced into you.

"You don't have to say anything."

You closed you mouth, gulping.

"... 4..."

She came closer, you two were so close you could feel her perfume. She smelled like peaches. You loved that fruit.

"... 3..."

She looked at your lips, then back at your eyes.

"... 2..."

Her lips were so close, they barely touched yours. You closed your eyes.

"... 1..."

She whispered something but you couldn't hear it, since the cloud went feral, screaming at the top of their lungs.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

And then she kissed you. Her lips were soft, and she tasted like cherry. Your second favourite fruit. Then the kiss stopped. You opened your eyes.

"Happy new year, Y/N."

You smiled.

"Happy new year, Zelda."

[lucariogirl369]

So...I got a Striker related theory...

Every time I watch the HB s2 episode Oops, this Striker scene near the end has been and always will be burned in the back of my brain.

Just by looking at THIS screenshot in particular, you can tell one of two things going through this man's now unstable mind; knowing he screwed up big time and is about to die...or, the biggest theory of all that a lotta of us HB enthusiast and Striker simps have theorized SINCE the dawn of his introduction back in The Harvest Moon Festival...he's about to relive some trauma.

I do have a multitude of theories about everyone's favorite lil' cowboy from this side of the Wrath Ring, but this singular screenshot alone already speaks volumes. One of which is that he lost his family during sometime in his childhood and/or he was once a husband/father at one point in his life, and seeing how he despises royals (despite the fact he only worked for Stella to get to Stolas...probably to get to her next, but that's a theory for another time), he probably lost them during a fire a royal family set upon his homeland and now he's reliving the horrible memory all over again.

But for this post, I'm sticking with the one during his childhood. Again, seeing how he hates royals, bluebloods, anyone who's a part of the "rich life" or is a part of the royal families, etc. His family grew up with not much but managing to barely get by with what little they had.

Only managing to afford food, clothes, a home, etc. If his family were to have more money in the pockets, they'd save it for emergencies or celebrations like birthdays or other holidays. This would've made him a target for bullying by richer families add to the fact that he's also a hybrid. No, seriously, he's a hybrid. That aside...

I would also assume his family either worked for a royal family under contract or were put into slavery and he witnessed the treatment his parents and possible siblings received throughout his youth. Which would explain why he hates royal demons, overlords, and the like.

As for the fire...I theorized what happened was the following; his parents didn't have enough to buy for food or anything else, so, they made the riskiest decision by stealing from a royal family so they'd at least have enough for a meal, but ended up getting more so they could afford not just the necessities, but luxuries as well for their children.

That would end up being the biggest mistake of their lives. Once the royal family found out, they immediately attacked Striker's homeland, burning everything to the ground and destroying and harming the residents who lived there. Striker's parents and siblings getting the worst torment and torture of all. His parents told him to run and to not look back, but once he was far enough and he did look back...he was traumatized by seeing his family burning to death, no thanks to the noble demon taking his family away from him.

Maybe I'm looking too deep into this, but IT MAKES SO MUCH SENSE! His speech also signifies more from Western Energy!

"Not every ring is some fancy-ass city. With some fancy-ass mansion, that only FANCY-ASS royals get to live in! Some of us have hard lives to live! And some of us, have EVERYTHING we care about taken away by fuckers like you!"

From his speech about royal demons to Stolas, his "deal" to Blitz from Harvest Moon Festival, and the screenshot before the explosion says a LOT about what happened to Striker! Now, whether or not we see an official flashback from the Spindle Horse crew or at least get some kinda backstory for Striker, it would make a lotta sense as to why he is the way he is!

Ngl...I feel so bad for him! I wanna take 'em home, wrap 'em up in a fluffy blanket, feed 'em ice cream, and hug and snuggle him until he has a good cry and feels better! Our little cowboy has suffered enough and needs some loves and DESERVES some kind of redemption arc! 😭😭😭

[yuurei20]

So…what’s the deal with Jamil Viper’s parents, if you haven’t already talked about that

Hello hello!! Thank you for this question!

Jamil's parents are, I think, maybe still something of an enigma!

They appear in silhouette during Jamil's overblot monologue, where we see them strike Jamil in front of Kalim for refusing to play a game, calling him foolish to his face.

Jamil says that his very first memory as a child was seeing them bow to Kalim's parents, and "(he) couldn't stand the sight of it" even at that age.

In the flashback Jamil's parents then plead with child-Jamil to be understanding of their situation (after hitting him), and Jamil explains that this taught him, "Kalim's parents were far more important than mine. Therefore, Kalim was more important than me."

The situation seems very complex!

Jamil's parents are servants working under Kalim's family, and we get a little more information about what it is that they actually do in Jamil's third birthday vignette: Jamil explains that their duties include entertaining visitors (business contacts of Kalim's father? It is not specified).

When Silver comments on Jamil's admiration for his parents Jamil responds that it's not exactly admiration: he just wants to adopt useful skills, like their knowledge of foreign countries.

Jamil says he has not confided in them the reason why he overblotted in Book 4.

And Jamil's parents' responsibility of providing hospitality has been hinted at before! Jamil says in a ceremonial robes voice line that his parents "immersed (him) in this world since (he) was a child" and he can "breeze through any social occasion," while Jamil's father sends Najma out to find him during Firelit Sky with information about visitors' seating arrangements.

(Najma is forced to hunt down Jamil during the festival even after confirming the information with Jamil over text because their father "doesn't really get smartphones...or computers even," and despite how doing so ruined his daughter's own plans for the day.)

We learn a little more about Jamil's childhood interactions with his parents during the event, such as how he would have to pick up after Najma ("usually with Mom and Dad hounding me to do it") when she'd run away from messes, and a time when he tried to escape his "mom getting on him about something" by hiding inside a vase.

When he tells Najma to to stay out of trouble she reponds, "Ugh, you sound just like Dad!" Jamil responds, "...you've got a point."

And I believe that is all that we have seen/heard of Jamil's parents thus far! It will be interesting to see if they come up again the story, as they seem to have had a not-insignificant role in Jamil's overblot!

(Also, small trivia: Jamil's father in Book 4 is voiced by the same voice actor who did Floyd's deep Book-4 voice, after he trades his unique magic to Azul ^^)

[ecargmura]

A Terrified Teacher At Ghoul School Episode 5 Review - A Trip To Osaka

Guess who binged the entire manga of A Terrified Teacher At Ghoul School and its spinoff prequel Youkai Gakkou no Seito Hajimemashita after watching the previous episode? Me! This gag manga is super funny when it needs to be, but when it needs to be emotional, it can really tug at your heartstrings. Oh right, this is supposed to be a review for Episode 5 and not my thoughts on the manga. *ahem*

This entire episode is just Sano, Maizuka, Zashiki and Hijita going to Osaka to visit Haruaki for the weekend. Originally, they were going to sneak and surprise him, but only Sano knows about Haruaki’s family owning a shrine, so it was his job to keep them in line but Haruaki sort of pissed him off and decided to take them straight to his house and not avoid it. I don’t think their reason for visiting was explained other than wanting to visit out of curiosity.

Anyways, after Zashiki ran into two men hitting on her, she gets saved by Amaaki, Haruaki’s older twin brother. If you’re curious, Amaaki is older by a day (his birthday is 2/20 while Haru’s is 2/21) but he is a centimeter shorter (he is 187 cm while Haru is 188 cm). Despite being identical twins, they are completely different. For one, Ame doesn’t have a sailor uniform fetish and is more of a brocon. Second, Ame is more stylish, tougher and more protective while Haru is a lot frumpier, softer and sensitive. In terms of powers, Haru got all of the powers meaning Ame is just an ordinary person. Most of all, Ame hates youkai and cannot stand them out of fear. Also, it’s easier to differentiate them as Haruaki’s hair has a reddish undertone, while Amaaki has a blue undertone.

The twins’ parents also make their debut. Mama-aki and Papa-aki are super adorable. They both have sweet personalities and Haruaki seems to take after their personalities as Amaaki is the one holding all of their braincells. I feel bad for Papa-aki as he gets abused by his son and wife by denying his existence for the youkai students’ sake. He has to be degraded to a fairy that hangs out in the house. Poor guy. Though, I do feel like Haruaki’s penchant for misfortune comes from his dad as shown in the flashback where he accidentally released the sealed youkai by accidentally.

The main conflict of the episode is Amaaki’s overprotectiveness towards Haruaki. Because of his disdain for youkai, he wants Haruaki to quit teaching at youkai school, but Sano does see that it’s more out of distrust for Haruaki rather than disdain for youkai. Fortunately, he does tone it down after talking it out with Sano, but given that these sort of things don’t just go away, it’ll probably still be there once Amaaki makes another appearance.

I like some minor details regarding the other characters. I like how Maizuka sits on a high chair. I like how Hijita gets stuck being a drink in a bottle when they’re in Haruaki’s car. I also like the strange chronicle of one of the guys who had hit on Zashiki getting together with the old lady he forcibly hit on due to Amaaki’s meddling. You can see them together in the festival, much to Hijita, Zashiki and Maizuka’s horror and they are seen towards the end at the train station. I just think it’s hilarious that Amaaki sort of played matchmaker.

Speaking of which, the voice cast for Papa-aki and Mama-aki is pretty crazy. Papa is voiced by Kenichi Suzumura, who you may know as Murasakibara from Kuroko’s Basketball and Momotaro Mikoshiba from Free. Mama is voiced by Mamiko Noto who is known for voicing Sawako Kuronuma from Kimi ni Todoke and Ine from Grandpa And Grandma Turned Young Again. It’s crazy how they got big names to voice the parents. I think it suits them so well because they suit the comedic vibes. I think this is the first time I heard Suzumura voicing a dad. Amaaki’s voice actor is Gakuto Kajiwara who you might know as Allen from Paradox Live. I like that the twins are voiced by different voice actors to show off that they’re not the same person even if they are identical looking. It gives Ame some individuality.

Anyways, I know I binged the manga for the past few days, but I am not going to do a manga and anime comparison because that’ll take way too long. All I can say is that the anime really likes to combine some chapters together for one episode. This episode combines Chapters 8 and 9 into one. Because of the tendency to combine chapters, it’s unpredictable what’s going to happen next. What will Episode 6 be about? Also, this anime has 24 episodes and will continue on in Winter 2025. It makes me wonder just how much they will add in. What are your thoughts on this episode?