#thank you so much for the ask and your kind words!!! welcome to homelander hell

[blindmagdalena]

Hi! I’ve recently fallen into a homelander rabbit hole and your blog has quickly become one of my favorites so if you’re asking for prompts, I’ll deliver! What about ❛ you’ve got an awfully kissable mouth. ❜ or ❛ his dark eyes took me in, and i wondered what they would look like if he fell in love. ❜

Keep up the awesome writing!!

For months, you're proud to say that you've been a particularly prickly thorn in Homelander's side. With the rise of what Vought has patent-pending branded as "super villains," you prefer to think of yourself as a "medium villain." When you escaped from Sage Grove Center, you didn't have any spectacular plans for world domination. In fact, you couldn't give less of a fuck about this world. You've been experimented on, tortured, ridiculed, and now... You're free, and you have power. Unfortunately, you're also a loose end that Vought, and by extension, the Homelander, needs tied off.

AO3 Link.

[padfootagain]

Such A Silly Game

Here we go with a second fic for Ben's week!! Today’s writing prompt was ‘a moment’. Join us on @benbarnesbirthdayparty​ to follow the event. This is a modern AU for Caspian! I am very proud of this little piece, I hope you like it.

Just so you know, it was meant to be a drabble. Then it became a regular one-shot, and turns out, it became a 7k-long fic... Ooops...

Anyway, enjoy!

WARNING for mentions of injuries, explosions and violence.

Tell me if you like my little fic :)

Word Count: 7365

"Lionheart is on the move."

"Copy that. Everything's clear all the way to the hotel."

"Have you checked the hotel itself."

"Of course. We're all good."

"We'll soon be there."

You ended the phone call, putting the device back in the pocket of your vest, and you nodded to your colleagues waiting for your signal a few metres down the street. The two of them climbed in the black car parked in front of the one you would be using tonight. You turned to your three other colleagues who stood by your side in front of the Narnian embassy.

"Get ready to leave," you ordered to two of them. "Marco and I will take care of the King's car. Stay close to us."

You patted the shoulder of one of your colleagues, who was younger than all of you. It was her first day as an official bodyguard serving the King of Narnia, and she was nervous as hell. After a long and difficult training, she was finally ready.

"Don't worry too much. It's Manhattan. The threat level is not that high," you reassured the young Denise. "Besides, you're paired with Reep! He's the best mentor you can have...  after me, of course."

"Ha... but Y/N here is too busy running the whole show, being the head of his Majesty's security to take care of the new recruits," your friend Reepicheep laughed at you. "Come on, let's get ready. The King will soon walk out of the embassy. And tonight, I pay for the beers!"

"Why the merry mood?" you asked, raising a playful eyebrow in surprise.

"Well, you've just said that I was a father now!" he replied, gesturing at Denise and making all of you laugh.

"Hey! I've been working with all of you for six months already!" Denise protested.

"Only as a trainee. Now, you're an official bodyguard!" Marco replied, nudging your new recruit.

"Congrats, by the way," you gave Denise an encouraging smile. "Now, go to work!"

"Yes, Ma'am!" your three colleagues chimed, and Reep and Denise walked over to the car behind yours.

One car on the front, one behind, along with three motorcycles came to complete the guard of King Caspian X. His diplomatic mission at the U.N. was about to end, only a few days left before you would find the quiet of your homeland again. Not that you complained about the charm of this city, but the threats were much greater in number on foreign soil for the King, which meant more work and more stress for you.

You had been working as his personal bodyguard for six years and been his head of security for two more. Eight years by his side, spending your days and nights thinking about his safety. You had protected him on every continent and in dozens of nations. And if it wasn't exactly recommended for you to admit it, you had formed a strong friendship with the King.

Or well, perhaps it was a little more than a friendship the two of you shared, but you were both painfully aware that you shouldn't act on it. Not in an easy way, at the very least. The King entering a romantic relationship with his bodyguard would bring the media on fire. It would eclipse every other project he might want to work on. And both of you would have to face hell. None of you were ready to take that step, or at least, you both assumed that the other wouldn't want to go through this. There were moments though when you would think like your feelings were shared, that he did see you in this tender light too. There had been a handful of moments, even, when you had thought that he might kiss you. It had never happened though. You reckoned that it never would. Besides, you knew the King well enough by now to be sure that he wouldn't risk putting both of you through all this mess if he weren't certain that his feelings for you were strong enough to resist the chaos.

You guessed that it meant that he didn't see this in you, after all.

The front door of the embassy opened, revealing the King confidently walking out. He was accompanied by two bodyguards who never left his side, no matter where he went. They would join the teams in the front car. You and Marco greeted the sovereign with a bow, and he nodded at the two of you, thanking Marco when he opened the door for him.

He settled in the back of the car while you sat in the passenger's seat and Marco would drive you through Manhattan.

"Is His Majesty ready to return to the hotel?" you asked, and he nodded once more.

You gave the signal to the other cars, and within seconds, you were on the road.

"Miss Y/L/N, you wouldn't happen to have a..."

But Caspian fell silent when you handed him a bottle of water and a box of aspirin before he could probably ask for it. He chuckled, accepting the medicine.

"Thank you. I guess I'm that predictable, huh?"

"You were to meet several other leaders today, I reckon anyone would end that kind of day with a migraine."

"How was your day? Not too much, I hope."

"Everything is ready for you at the hotel, Your Majesty."

He chuckled, before swallowing the drug and rubbing circles on his temples in an attempt to shush the pain that pierced his skull.

"That is not what I was asking, but I'm glad to know that too. Although, knowing both of you and your team, I had no doubt my room would be secured long before I would arrive there."

You couldn't refrain a proud smile.

"Thank you for your trust, Your Majesty."

"You still haven't answered my question."

"Our day was pretty uneventful," you finally answered, your smile widening by the minute.

"Have you celebrated Miss Amos's first day as an official member of staff yet?" he asked, and you felt your heart swell with affection towards him.

He always remembered everything. You wondered how he did it. How, despite all of his duties, he still thought about every single person who worked for him.

"We were thinking about celebrating tonight," Marco joined in.

"Get a bottle of champagne on my account," Caspian instructed with an excited smile. "It's always a good feeling to welcome someone in our little world."

"It is, indeed."

"I have a few files to go through before we arrive. So..."

He handed you his phone.

"If someone calls, I am either dying or peeing."

You couldn't refrain a laugh, shaking your head.

"You shouldn't joke about dying, your Majesty. And especially not with your security team."

"I guess not," he answered, struggling to refrain his smile.

He picked up a couple of files, and started working again.

He was lost in laws and treaties and numbers and statistics. He rubbed his tired eyes, but focused on the documents on his laps despite his headache. You guessed that he would remain silent for the rest of the ride, so you turned to look at the shining lights of Manhattan at night instead. It was a beautiful sight indeed, of lights stretched with speed and reflections upon the Hudson River. The loud noise of the busy city still managed to sip inside the vehicle, honking cries and shouts and the humming of motorbikes speeding up across the large lanes. It was a rhythm that didn't really suit you: loud, busy, never-ending. You much preferred the slower pace of Narnian lives.

Despite your wandering thoughts, you remained focused on what was going on outside your car. You reckoned that as the King's head of security, you never truly relaxed. You were always monitoring whatever was happening in his vicinity, always attentive to details in every scene that played before you. A habit that was hard to lose once off-duty, but you didn't really mind. Maybe it was because of how you felt for the king, you reckoned that it was no bother to you to always be thinking of him.

You were outstandingly good at your job, and Caspian was well aware that he owed you his life, and did so on many occasions. How many plots had you brought down before they would come to fruition as an attempt on his life? He didn't know the exact number, but he was pretty certain that he wouldn't be able to count them on only his two hands. You didn't tell him about these things though, except when you were worried that a threat might still be out there. Otherwise, he would learn about your work through Reep, most of the time. He reckoned that it was just how you were: too humble to bring your good work to the light it deserved. Actually, you simply reckoned that the King had more important things to do than to listen to threats that were not relevant anymore. You did tell everything to the Prime Minister though, she had asked for the reports of all your operations. But if you could take at least one worry off of your sovereign's shoulders, then you would happily do so.

It was because you were so competent that you had quickly been promoted to a higher position in the King's security team. All your colleagues liked to praise you in saying that if you hadn't been in the team, the King would most likely not be in such a good health today.

So, it really wasn't because of your incompetence, or because of the incompetence of anyone in your team, that the quiet ride to Caspian's hotel turned into such a dangerous situation.

Because there was no emails to be found between the perpetuators of the attack upon the King that night, nor were there any strange online activity to be monitored, nor any suspicious discussions over the phone to be listened to. Every step was planned face to face between their instigators, and there was no way you could have guessed that an attack was planned for tonight.

How did they know how to find the King tonight, you never really found out. There were many mysteries about this particular moment that would take years to be revealed. And many important things would unfold in the very short time during which the attack took place. Their consequences though would linger on for many, many years.

You were always surprised by how the followers of Caspian's uncle kept his fight alive, despite the fact that his attempted coup resulted in their leader's death. You guessed that loyalty, even when misplaced, had no end. And with a bit of thinking, you understood the feeling. You reckoned that nothing could ever break your loyalty towards Caspian.

If you were supposed to hold your loyalty to the throne, you were well-aware that you had shifted your allegiance to Caspian himself long ago. Ever since he had shared his biscuits with you on that sunny afternoon in the royal gardens of Cair Paravel. You had talked like two friends, basked in the warm sun and the distant whisper of the sea. That was the first time that he was fully Caspian with you instead of the King. That was when you had fallen for him. You remembered every second of it...

But the scent of roses was long gone and at the moment at stake, you were about to face the greatest risks you had ever taken.

It was so sudden, like a flash. Everything was normal in the busy street, and the next second the car before you was bursting into flames.

Marco hit the breaks just as your foot made the same movement against the floor of the car, as a reflex. All three of you were projected forward with the strength of the deceleration, before hitting back your seats.

"What's going on?" Caspian asked behind you, a little out of breath. "Is anyone hurt?"

But you weren't given an occasion to speak, as loud gunshots rang through the night, the bullets crashing against the bulletproof windows interrupting you.

"Get down, Your Majesty!" you ordered, and for once, Caspian was the one to obey an order without a complain.

You unclasped your seatbelt and moved to check on Marco, who was holding his head.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, just banged my head against the wheel."

A new sequence of gunshots came in an outburst, but the glass was holding on for now. You looked around, trying to calm your breathing and your pounding heartbeat. No matter how panicked you were and scary the situation was, you needed to analyze what you had to be done. Assess the situation and act.

Assess and act.

"Your Majesty, are you hurt?" you asked, trying to control the shakiness in your voice as you scanned the street.

"No, I'm fine. Are you both okay?"

"We're fine."

Chaos was raging outside. People were running away to find shelter out of the street, abandoning their cars in the middle of the road in their panicked state. Which meant that the roads ahead were all blocked or would soon be. Anyway, ahead, the first car was burning in bright and tall red flames, completely forbidding any way out. The gunshots were coming from the right side of the street, you guessed from one of the buildings.

You reached for your radio.

"Does anyone copy?"

"Hear you loud and clear," Reep's voice came a little distorted through the radio. "Lionheart?"

"We're all fine. What's your status?"

"Unharmed. A bit bruised, but nothing to worry about."

"Is the road behind you clear?"

"No, blocked by a bus that was left there in the panic."

You checked your watch. Only a minute or so must have passed since the beginning of the attack.

"Stay put," you ordered.

No one answered from the first car, and you had to push your grief and worry for you colleagues aside for now. All that mattered at this precise moment was to get the King to safety.

"Your Majesty, there's a bulletproof vest under the driver's seat, put it on."

"Already done," Caspian replied. "What do we do? The streets are blocked?"

You nodded, and couldn't help but be impressed by how calm Caspian was despite the circumstances.

"I'm working on that," you replied, looking around the street again.

"We stay here and wait for help?" Marco asked.

"No, we need to get out of here, the windows won't hold forever."

"I agree with Miss Y/L/N on that one," Caspian nodded.

You spotted the entrance of a subway station a few dozens of meters away. You would have to cross the road, a piece of grass and another road that seemed completely blocked by a set of abandoned cars.

What if they had chosen this spot because they wanted to trap all of you in the subway?

But the next set of bullets made cracks run across the windows, and you reckoned that you didn't really have a choice.

"We're gonna aim for the subway, on the left."

"It's too far away," Marco shook his head.

"Reep," you called over the radio. "We're gonna make a run for the subway station on the left."

"Copy that."

"Get as close as you can with the car," you instructed to your colleague. "Your Majesty, stay down, and be ready to get out of the car quickly."

Caspian merely nodded, bracing himself against your seat.

Your colleague obeyed, starting the car again and driving as fast as he could towards the subway. But there was no way the car could pass between the oak trees that bordered the second road you had to cross. You had to get out of the car while still on the grass.

Reep and Denise stopped their car next to yours, turning the car to create a large protection for your team.

"What about the front car?" Denise asked as she and Reep joined your group.

But you shook your head.

"No response. And the priority is to get the King to safety."

Your young colleague nodded.

"Everyone in formation around the King," you ordered. "You all know what to do."

And indeed, there was no need for more words. You surrounded Caspian, using your own bodies to shield his. It was a quick run to the subway. Just one road to cross. But you would be in plain sight then.

"Your Majesty, are you ready?"

He studied the way your eyes were filled with fear. It was an expression that was easy to read on your features then. He spotted the sweat across your forehead, and the way your chest rose and fell more than usual. But there was determination as well as panic to be read in the frown that creased your brow.

He knew that this moment might be the last you shared. There was no reason to deny the truth. You were all risking your lives now, and he was painfully aware that it was his fault if you were in harm's way. Still, he reckoned that you wouldn't change a thing if you could. You would still choose to stand beside him.

There were many things he longed to admit, and many confessions he ought to make before dying, but now was not the time. Despite the urgency of this moment, despite the danger, he couldn't simply blurt out the fact that he loved you with all his heart, and had done so for years.

After all this, then, he decided. It would be the reason why you'd both have to survive this, so he could tell you at last.

"I'm ready, Miss Y/L/N."

You took a deep breath, giving him a short nod, before turning your gaze towards your goal.

You could make a stop behind a car, before finishing to cross the street.

"We aim for the cab over there," you instructed. "On three. One."

The four bodyguards gathered around their King, much to his dislike. It was their job though, to protect him at all cost, and he understood it. He understood that he was the King, and despite his country being a constitutional monarchy, his role was still key in the government and the health of his country's economy. He understood it, and he hated it.

You were right behind him, your arm reaching across his back. You would be shielding him on his right, and he was well aware that it might be the most dangerous position to be in at that moment.

Still, he remained silent, and let Reep position himself by your side, and your colleagues before them.

"Two."

Your heart was beating so fast, faster, you reckoned, that it had ever beaten. You were struggling to breathe, and yet, you were painfully aware of Caspian's scent of cinnamon and orange blossom.

You closed your eyes to focus, to gather your strengths. There was no mistakes allowed, any would most likely cost you your life, or worse, Caspian's.

When you opened your eyes again, you stared at the cab you were about to run to, only a few meters away. Despite your fear, your expression on your face was determined rather than afraid.

"Three!"

You all stood up as one man, running as fast as you could, although you remained bent over the King, making sure he was safe, four human shields covering your sovereign's body.

You counted how long you spent unprotected.

One, two, three, four, five...

The gunshots started, and a couple of bullets hit the pavement right next to your feet.

Six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven.

You crumbled against the cab, your legs shaky with the adrenaline running through your veins while the gunshots went on, digging holes in the cab behind you.

"Everyone alright?" you asked.

You were met with four nods.

"The shooter is in the big building on the other side of the lane. I'd say third or fourth floor," Reepicheep said.

"I've spotted him on the third window of the fourth floor," you agreed. "But there's no chance we can aim at him from here. Better make a run for the subway."

"And if he wants us there?"

"Then we'll shoot whoever is inside. Keep your weapons at the ready."

Your gun was already in your hand, the safety long gone and your forefinger ready to pull the trigger while you held the weapon so tightly your hand hurt.

You had been trained for this. You didn't doubt your abilities. You only doubted your luck, it was the one thing you couldn't control after all.

"Alright, one more time. On three," you instructed once more. "One."

Bullets hit the car you were hiding behind again, and you shielded Caspian as well as you could. When the shooting stopped, he sat straighter again, his dark eyes fully black in the weak light of the street, with no way of telling where his irises started and his pupils ended. You stared at each other for a few seconds, both of you a little out of breath.

He rested his hand on your forearm, his touch delicate.

"Are you hurt, Miss Y/L/N?" Caspian asked in a concerned whisper.

But you shook your head.

"We need to move," was your answer, and the King merely nodded in response. He knew you were right. You needed to hurry.

"Two," you resumed your countdown, and your colleagues and you took back your protective positions around the King.

One final sprint and you would be in the clear, for now, at least.

"Three!"

The shots resumed the second you started towards the subway.

You counted the seconds again while bullets ricocheted against the pavements and the cars surrounding you. Glasses shattered on your right, the high-pitched noise added to the detonations.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine...

You would have needed a couple more seconds, that was all. Just two more seconds, maybe three, and you would have reached the entrance and been able to take cover.

But you collapsed before that, just as the number nine rang in your head.

Caspian felt it. He felt that your hand slipped from his back, and your presence across his back and by his side disappeared too. He turned to check on you, and the scene he found was the one he dreaded most.

You hit the ground just as he turned to you.

His eyes grew round, and he made a movement towards you, but he was dragged away by the rest of his bodyguards.

"No..." he breathed, but it might just had been a shout for the pain that tore the word apart. It was simply too broken to come out louder.

Then he was pushed against a wall, and you were out of sight.

You were shot. You were hurt and it was all because of him. He had to go back and carry you to safety. He had to protect you just like you had protected him so many times before, just like you protected him just now.

"Unhand me," he ordered between grinding teeth. "All of you, unhand me."

If Marco and Denise obeyed, Reep stared back at his king with a stubborn look on his face that Caspian hated.

"Your Majesty, you can't..."

"That's an order."

"I'm afraid I can't obey this order, Your Majesty. You can't go out there for her."

The two men stared at each other, reading each other's anger and resolve in their eyes. Caspian's fear and panicked state was slowly turning into anger at the idea that he couldn't help you. And under other circumstances, he would have understood. He was the King. You had sacrificed yourself for him, and you risking your life would be useless if he walked back out there and got shot too.

But it was you. It was you, and he didn't care about anything else at that moment. Not about his country, or his duties, and certainly not his safety. You were lying on the cold pavement, just a few meters away from him, at best wounded and at worst dead. He would not leave you behind. He had things to confess, after all.

And on top of his fear for you and his panic rising through his body at the thought of losing you were added his regrets. So many of those, so many moments he had stopped himself from talking to you, from admitting how he truly felt, from holding you close, from kissing you.

It seemed simpler then, it seemed wiser too. He figured he had all the time in the world to tell you the truth. And now he was angry at himself, more than at Reepicheep, for letting so many of these moments slip through his fingers over the past years. And maybe he had let you down just as much as he had let himself by staying silent when he was so certain that he loved you. If he had let you down in the past, he was determined to never do so again, and certainly not now.

"Unhand me. Now."

"Your Majesty, if you get hurt, her sacrifice will have been in vain."

"I can't leave her there..."

"Your Majesty..."

"Get out of my way."

Reep heaved a sigh, knowing his King too well to keep on protesting. Instead, he did as ordered.

"I'll go with you then," Reep decided, and Caspian didn't complain.

Before he could add another word, Caspian was running to you, closely followed by his bodyguard.

He grabbed you by the shoulders and started to drag you towards shelter. With Reepicheep's help, he carried you to safety in just a few seconds, but he remained unprotected long enough for him to feel the stinging burn of a cut across his right arm. He merely winced though, and didn't let out a sound before all three of you were protected again.

Meanwhile, Denise and Marco had wandered further into the deserted subway and found no threat.

"Your Majesty... your arm..." Denise whispered, her eyes wide in concern.

"It's merely a scratch," Caspian brushed her remark away.

She looked for something to wrap around his wound to slow down the bleeding, but the King wasn't paying attention to her at all anymore.

"Miss Y/L/N? Can you hear me?"

His call was met by nothing but silence. Your eyes were closed, and a cut crossed your cheekbone, probably caused by your fall. He checked your pulse, but you were still breathing although your heartbeat was a little slow.

Caspian looked for your wound, but couldn't see any blood.

"Help me turn her to her side, she must have been hit on her back," he ordered, and Reep and Marco helped him to manoeuvre you so he could take a look at your back.

Sirenes echoed through the street then. The police and ambulances were arriving. But for now, you were still on your own.

After a careful examination, Caspian spotted a hole in the fabric of your suit, right under your right shoulder, and when he brushed his fingers across it, they were slightly covered with blood. He took his phone out of your pocket to shed some light on the spot, and he realised that your bulletproof vest had slowed the bullet enough for it to be still visible as it got buried in your skin and the first layers of muscles on the edge of your shoulder blade.

He heaved a relieved sigh. He was no doctor, but he reckoned that the wound in itself was not too severe. The strength of the impact must have been the worst part, he reckoned.

He gently put you on your back again, and resumed his efforts to wake you up.

"Y/N! Y/N please, open your eyes."

He ran his hand across your forehead and your cheek before cupping your face, his fingertips lost in your hair.

"Y/N... please... please, you need to wake up now. Y/N..."

Finally, your eyelids fluttered and opened, barely revealing the shade of your irises that Caspian dreamt about. And he reckoned he had never been happier to see your eyes.

"Ouch..." you let out with a wince.

He gave you a bright grin, tears shining in his eyes.

"Y/N... how are you feeling?"

"Been better," you admitted. "Where are we?"

"We've reached the subway. The police is here. Help is on its way."

"Have you... checked the perimeter?" You asked Reep.

"We're safe for now," Marco nodded.

"Happy to see that you are still the same," Caspian chuckled, his voice hoarse and a little weak.

"Are you hurt?" You asked, noticing the blood on his sleeve.

"It's just a scratch. I'm fine. We're all fine."

You made a movement to sit up, bit Caspian gently pushed you back down.

"No, lay down. Help is on its way. You need to rest."

"Your arm..."

"I'm alright, it barely brushed me. Stay down. You'll be fine."

He reached for your hand, for once not caring about the people around the two of you who witnessed the scene. It was so rare that he would let himself slip so far as to touch you in any way, and you felt overwhelmed by the chaste but loving hold.

But you were exhausted, and struggled to keep your eyes open by now.

You gathered your strengths to look at him, staring at his dishevelled hair falling before his dark eyes, and the beard covering his cheek, a little bit of sweat pearling across his forehead...

God, you loved him so much, it was almost embarrassing...

"Y/N, I need you to stay awake, okay?" Caspian's voice was low and deep and it sounded fragile now, begging. It was such a strange tone to hear coming from your King, you reckoned that you had never heard him beg for anything before.

"I'm so tired," you replied, although you were blinking in an attempt to open your eyes for good.

"I know."

"It's hard to breathe."

"You were shot. The vest stopped the bullet, but I reckon that the force of the impact was enough to knock you down. You could be more severely wounded than what we can assess now. So don't move, and stay awake while we wait for help."

"Take care of your arm first."

He exhaled loudly, a tender smile settling on his lips while his eyes filled with tears again.

Outside, the sirens rang closer again, and some gunshots could be heard from the distance. It was loud and chaotic and scary. Caspian didn't look away from your eyes though.

"You really have to always be this stubborn, don't you?" he asked, his voice too gentle for his remark, and as you thought about an adjective to describe his tone, there was no word that you could think of that suited more than 'loving'. And this tone of his made your heart melt.

Police officers finally reached your shelter a few minutes later, along with a team of paramedics. Reep guided them to you, and explained the situation, while you tightened your hold on Caspian's hand.

"As we've almost died, and it's a very short moment that'll soon end..." you whispered, so only Caspian would hear. "I think I can admit that... I really wish you could stay with me now."

But you were surprised when Caspian shook his head, giving you the most tender smile you had seen adorning his lips.

"I'm not leaving your side this time. As you said, we've almost died. Call it cliché, but it changes things."

You wanted to ask him what he meant, but the paramedics finally reached you, and you had to give them your attention instead.

"Take care of the King first," you ordered them, making Caspian chuckle.

You really would never change...

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

 You hated hospitals. They were white and cold and filled with pain. The blankets and sheets were scratchy and the mattress uncomfortable. And there was no need to get you started on the food.

You were in one of these hospital beds now though, and had no choice about the matter. If the bullet had not made too much damage in itself, the impact had hit you with enough strength to break one of your ribs. You would stay in the hospital for a couple of days, and after being patched up, you had fallen asleep alone in your room.

Only, you weren't alone anymore when you opened your eyes again.

Caspian was asleep, sitting on a tiny chair with dark circles under his eyes that showed that he had barely gotten any sleep during the night. You guessed that he had passed out because of exhaustion rather than peacefully resting. His neck was twisted to a strange angle, and you could foresee the wince he would make as he would wake up with painful muscle.

You guessed that moments of peril did change things after all.

You could already think of the headlines if the fact that the King had spent the night in the hospital to stay with his bodyguard was to come out. Caspian didn't seem to care though, clearly, as he was curled in his uncomfortable chair by your side.

His arm was pressed against his chest in a tight bandage. He looked properly exhausted, yet, your selfish side was happy he was in this chair instead of the comfort of a bed. He was by your side, after all, how could you not enjoy the sight?

The sun was rising outside, still pale and golden above the skyscrapers while the city that never sleeps came a little bit more to life. You studied the way a few stranded photons got caught on Caspian's eyelashes and in his long dark hair. You measured the distance between your hand and his. Maybe a metre, at most, you would say.

You kept on staring at him for a while. A couple of minutes or an hour, it was hard to tell, you reckoned that you could have spent your whole life just looking at him. Despite the rush and danger of the previous night, and where you were now, there was something unbelievably soothing about watching Caspian sleep by your side.

When he finally stirred, blinking his eyes open and rubbing the sleep away from them, his gaze instantly settled upon your frame. He offered you a warm smile once he noticed that you were awake.

"Good morning, Miss Y/L/N," he greeted you, his voice hoarse in the young morning as he rubbed his painful neck.

"Good morning, Your Majesty," you answered with the same smile.

He scooted his chair closer to your bed and leaned towards you.

"How are you feeling?"

"Numb. I guess they must have given me painkillers."

"You got some morphine during the night."

"Explains a lot."

He chuckled, nodding.

"I guess it must."

"How is your arm?"

"It was a mere scratch, but I am royalty, so... I reckon the doctors are being zealous."

"How did you get hurt? Is it because I fell?"

He stared right into your eyes to answer, knowing you wouldn't like what he was about to say, but he didn't really care.

"No, I went back for you. I carried you back to the subway, with a little help of your colleagues, of course."

"You did what?!" you exclaimed, trying to sit up but falling back into the bed as soon as a jolt of pain crossed your back and chest.

Caspian was on his feet in the blink of an eye, gently pressing his palm against your shoulder.

"You have to lie down. You have a broken rib. Apparently, it's going to hurt like hell."

"That... might be a good idea... Don't think it's making me forget what you've just said though. What on Earth were you thinking?!"

"Is that really how you're supposed to talk to your King?" he asked, quirking a playful eyebrow.

"When you act so recklessly? Yes."

"So what was I supposed to do? Leave you there, alone on the pavement?"

"Yes!"

"That will never happen."

"Your Majesty..."

But just as you were about to protest, he reached for your hand, and made you fall quiet, the words stuck in your throat as his soft skin met yours. Your heart sped up, and you watched him setting his eyes upon your two hands. He slowly sat on the edge of your bed while you struggled to find back your voice.

"This has been going on for too long, don't you think?" he asked in a whisper. "Such a silly game we've been playing..."

"This?"

"Well, I could be wrong, and then I apologize for what I'm about to say. But I thought... I think you might feel like this too."

"Your Majesty..."

His lips curled into a sad smile.

"Do you think you could call me a different name one day?"

You struggled to swallow.

"I'm not supposed to."

"As if I've ever cared about your origins and mine..."

"People do care though."

"Yes... I guess they do."

"So... you can stay for a little longer, and then the moment will end as you pass this door, and we'll be back to a King and his head of security."

He looked up to stare at your eyes once more, trapping your soul in them, it would seem.

"Is that what you want? After all these years? Don't you think we have lost enough time already, worrying about what people might say about us?"

"Nothing's changed. You're still the king, and I'm still your protector."

"Things have changed though."

"Really?"

"I almost lost you. I saw you lying there on this pavement, thinking that you might be dead. I've always pushed back this moment because I thought we would have time, that 'later' would come, eventually. But the reminder that our time on this Earth is a precious thing was only too violent for me to ignore last night. We've lost years already, I don't want to lose more time."

"But..."

"Just... hear me out. Let me tell you..."

"We shouldn't."

"When you were shot yesterday... I thought... I thought back on these moments when I almost didn't stop myself. When I almost told you how I feel, and when I almost kissed you and... and there is nothing in my life that I regret more than to have let all these precious instants pass."

He heaved a sigh, shaking his head.

"I'm... I know it won't be easy. But I'm tired of not being honest."

"Your Majesty..."

"No need to bring that distance between us again now."

"But..."

"But I love you."

You fell silent. You thought that he did love you. You hoped so. You wished that he would. But hearing the three words pass his lips was something else entirely. It felt... overwhelming.

"I've loved you for a while," he went on, his cheeks turning crimson, and his gaze dropping back to your hands, unable to hold your stare. "I... there will never be anyone else."

"You should marry a princess or... someone... like that..."

He chuckled again.

"Even you don't know what that means. We're in the 21st century, don't you think that I could have a choice to marry who I love. As long as the woman my heart has chosen loves me too, of course..."

His voice trailed off, waiting for reassurance, for your answer. But you remained silent.

"I want to do this," Caspian went on, staring at you once more while he gently stroked your knuckles with this thumb. "I'm ready to face it. Life is too short, Y/N. Yesterday was the last strike for me. I can't... I can't go on like this. I can't go on seeing you everyday and yet not being free to kiss you, and to ask you about your day, and to talk to you for hours just because I want to know everything about you and I want to hear your voice all the time. I can't go on being jealous of every man you speak to, imagining that maybe you could fall for them instead of me. I can't go on wasting my life like this, Y/N. I've wasted years already. You know that I would do anything for our people, I would die without a second thought if it meant protecting our country. But you becoming queen would be a good thing for Narnia too, I know you would be perfect in that role. And I just... I need you. And I want you in that role, by my side. I want you as more than the head of security. Critics will be made, and journalists will invent scandals, but we can beat this. We can, and if you give us a chance, we will."

He grew silent again, waiting for your answer. Before you would speak though, you gave him a smile.

"You're jealous of the men I talk to at work?" you asked, making him laugh.

"Of all that I've said, is that everything you've chosen to acknowledge?"

"We'll pass to the declaration of your unconditional love for me in a minute," you answered, both of you chuckling despite the tears glimmering in your eyes.

"Yes, I am jealous of them," he admitted. "Yes, I love you. And I don't want to be with anyone else. So... what do you think?"

You could have answered that it would be difficult, yet, you wanted to try it too. You were ready to embrace the storm that was sure to strike you, if it meant finally being with him. You wanted to tell him that you were jealous of all these noble women he talked to at galas as well. You wanted to tell him that you regretted these moments you had let slip through your fingers just like he did.

But instead, fewer, more important words passed your lips.

"I think that I love you too, Caspian."

He seemed a little stunned, but then, the grin he gave you was the brightest you had ever seen graze his features.

He didn't find any words to answer to that statement, so instead, he did what he had stopped himself from doing dozens of times before. Instead of speaking, he leaned down to press his lips to yours.

And Gosh, you had been wishing and dreaming and waiting for this kiss for years, but was it worth the wait...

His lips tasted of bitter hospital coffee, and they were soft and warm against yours. His scent was overwhelming, making your head spin. His hold on your hand tightened, but it remained tender all the same. When he turned his head a little more, his lips brushing yours instead of connecting with them fully, you reckoned that your entire body was set on fire by the way your two breaths mingled against each other's mouth, and how warm the air leaving his lungs felt across your skin. Finally, you were there, holding on each other, kissing, breathing the same air.

For how long did you keep on kissing? A few minutes, or a few hours, you wouldn't have been able to tell. All that you were aware of was Caspian's kiss and the way it made your body tremble, and how he was out of breath as well. Your fingers were lost in his soft, dishevelled locks like they were made to belong there.

When you finally broke apart, both of you out of breath, he rested his forehead against yours.

"So... what happens now?" you asked after a long silence.

"Now... I'm catching my breath, and then I think I might kiss you again."

You laughed, shaking your head.

"No, I meant... about... everything else."

But it was his turn to shake his head.

"It can wait until tomorrow. Or later, at least. Now... let's just enjoy this moment, okay?"

"It's nice," you agreed.

"Then let's just enjoy it while it lasts. Let's make this moment as long as we can."

"For how long do you think we can make it last?"

"Well... I reckon that a lifetime would do."

 *************************************

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[the-passenger-if]

heya! sorry if this has been asked before, but i couldn't find it thanks to crappy tumblr... but do you have any fave WIP's? i'm currently looking for new stuff to play. kinda broaden my horizon XD and since i love your game, maybe you have a similar taste as me?? thanx!

Hey there :3

Yeah of course, there are a lot of really good ones, but my top ones are heavily character driven and most of them have awesome ROs

List of WIPs in no particular order.

SUPERHEROES/SUPERHERO-ADJACENT:

Freak: Amidst the Neon Lights. TW: a scientist is creepily gross towards MC.

From the author’s fingers: A fish out of water tale.

A young isolated MC without a ‘voice’ grows up in a lab poked prodded and tested for eighteen years finds themselves thrown into the chaotic world of powers and abilities beyond human kine. They will have an adventure that will define who they are and make an impact in a world they never knew existed.

RO after my own heart: Mh. No one really, but  the MC and Silic are awesome.

WIP state: On hiatus

------

Model Citizens: Unmasked

From the author's fingers: It’s a story about a world full of heroes with odd and amazing powers! But… you’re not one of them. You don’t have powers, and you don’t plan to go and fight crime. No, you’re just a model, everyday citizen. A reporter, in fact, tied into the events of heroes but never really a part of them

Except for one (well, two, but thats already said and done), little exception.

You work for The Nickelport Rust, a controversial paper known for one reason and one reason only.

Unmasking heroes.

RO after my own heart: V. and Ricky (with a special mention to Lucy)

WIP state: On hiatus

------

Fallen Hero: Retribution

Enough said--also, Malin didn't write a summary for this one n_n"

RO after my own heart: Ortega. I would romance Steel and Argent too.

WIP state: Malin is running a closed alpha

SUPERNATURAL:

SoS: The Mortal Coil. This one and The ORPHEUS Ruse were big inspirations for The Passenger as discussed here.

From the author's fingers: Archangels were designated to serve the whims of their God. As Gabriel, you wield power and influence in Heaven. Yet your God, silent for centuries, has given you an order, one unlike any other you have received. You are to raise a satanspawn on earth, living in secret as a mortal. play as the archangel, Gabriel. Your cover is that of a junior detective with the Major Crimes division of JCPD. It’s supposed to be a straightforward protection detail.

But things rarely go according to plan.

Will you stay loyal to Heaven and their rules or will you play it fast and loose? Will you try to seize the throne or find your place on Earth? Will the satanspawn prove to be beyond saving or will you raise him to be a beacon of hope?

Work with the various supernatural factions in one of the few cities that is neutral in the war between Heaven and Hell. Fall in love, solve a few cases, and discover if your past will define your future.

RO after my own heart: Michael. That fucking brat.

WIP state: On hiatus

ADVENTURE:

Diaspora. You guys... Diaspora. If you're into Dragon Age, Diaspora is a must.

From the authors' fingers: it’s about a clan of people forced to flee their homeland and establish themselves elsewhere in the world. The Cine, of which the PC is a part, are traditionally a raiding culture, accustomed to theft and piracy as a way of life, meaning that few will welcome them as neighbors. Throughout the story, the PC will have opportunities to shape the perception of their clan, as well as the direction their people will take with their new settlement. Will you stick to traditional values at the steep diplomatic cost that may entail? Or, against the advice of your clan’s leadership and some of your close friends, will you try to change the very fate of the Cine, their role in the world around them?

RO after my own heart: Pan. There's no words to describe how much I love this magnificent bastard. They are my favorite RO ever too and a big inspiration for some of Roach's mannerisms.

WIP state: Kiku and August work on it whenever they have time but I would say it's pretty active for a WIP this big.

------

Relics of the Lost Age. TW: for people being bigots; it has nazis, it has the kkk, you can punch them in the face tho :3

From the author's fingers: The game is basically a fun (I hope), swashbuckling Indiana Jones-em-up, in which you play as a 1930s archaeologist trying to locate a number of occult artifacts before various nasty types can get their hands on them. There will be high adventure in far-flung corners of the world, wacky stunts, Nazi-punching, the possibility of romance (4 possible ROs in total, although you don’t meet them all in Chapter 1), loss, betrayal and all kinds of good stuff along those lines. Give it a go; you never know, you might like it!

I've never watched an Indiana Jones film in my entire life, but this game kicks ass and its author is a very intelligent person and also a sweetheart. Go say hello!

RO after my own heart: Not a RO but I'm crossing my fingers for Maria Garcia Perez. Yes, mama, call me a dumbass and kick me in the face.

WIP state: Active. The Prof is a word-spurting beast :O

ANYTHING BY THOMB, REALLY:

But the WIP i'm following at the moment is the third book in the Evertree Saga, Lux: City of Secrets

From the author’s fingers: continuing the story that began with Evertree Inn and Sordwin. In this fantasy adventure, you return once again as an investigator of magical mysteries, this time exploring the many twisting tales of a city full of secrets. Can you balance all the commitments of your new life in the big city and rise above, or will you become just another nameless face in the crowd?

Also, Thom is truly a sweetheart.

RO after my own heart: Dandy. Dandy Dandy Dandy. (this one is a gender-flip and his female counterpart is Daisy)

WIP state: Active. Thom has 3 titles under their belt, they know what they're doing.

SLASHER HORROR:

Monsters. So so cool, also so so full of triggers--a character is super homophobic and a racist, other dude may hit a female MC in the face if he doesn't like what she's saying, so bear that in mind. I don't feel like the author was trying to be edgy, tho, he's just playing with old horror tropes and these people aren't supposed to be likeable anyways. If you like horror that's kind of Texas-Chainsaw-Massacry, this is a good one.

From the author's fingers: First off: This game contains ADULT CONTENT!!! It is a psychological survival horror, and intentionally contains content which some readers may find offensive. There’s a proper disclaimer in-game. But the warning is there. I’m choosing not to describe the content of the game because, honestly, I want it to be a surprise to anyone who has not read it but is intrigued. I want you to not know what to expect. wink

RO after my own heart: Nobody, but they are interesting to chat to.

WIP state: On hiatus.

OTHERS I ENJOYED A LOT:

Wilhelmina

The Wayhaven Chronicles: Book Two

Through Broken Lenses. TW: so much abuse. Tread with care.

The Seven Heirs of Ophaesia: Part One

Fox of Sunholt

Supernatural in New York

Good Intentions. TW: I think this one may be triggering too, but I don't quite remember the specifics, sorry.

What a Brilliant Existence!

Spellbound: A Ghost Story

Seven days in purgatory

Burwick Destination: Book One

A Cage of Mist and Shadow

Please remember to pay attention to the last time WIPs were updated, you don’t want to necrobump a thread.

[twisted-nox-sidus]

Hello, I hope your well. I really love Strix and the headcannons you write. Now that we know that the dorm leaders have Overblotted. Can you do a headcannon where the headmaster has them on prohibition and has Strix supervises them while they recovered. Thank you and stay safe.

Anon continued: I almost forgot, during my last post, only Riddle and Leona was shown to have gone to their Overblot mode. Since Azul’s Overblot is coming this late April while the others are coming soon. If you have the time, can you please do a headcannon where like I’ve asked, the headmaster has them on prohibition places them on the Ramshackle Dorm under Strix’s care & supervision. Thank you, stay safe and have a good day or night.

I’m taking this as an advantage to slip in some romantic hints (cuz the boys fell for her in one way or another, especially after she snap them out through a therapist session), so this is a little self-indulgent lol. 

Post-Overblot Prohibition Club

Riddle Rosehearts

As a supervisor, Strix should have expected to be tasked with this job Crowley assigned her. Being the therapist of a school of egotistical boys is not what she had signed up for.

Riddle felt guilty for degrading her status as a non-magic user. He had said it pretty cruelly with a smile, he admits as he looked away ashamed.

That’s what’s keeping him down? She was surprised he even remembered that.

Strix placed a hand atop his head and stared. Her eyes bored him mysteriously. “Yeah.”

A wide blush instantly colored his cheeks the same color as his hair. “What was that?! Why did you just say ‘yeah’?!”

“Hm. I wonder.”

She likes to tease Riddle a lot, but her touch is gentle. Her impression on Riddle became better once she understood why he became this way.

“I know this is cruel to say, but it was better for you to Overblot than suppressing it. Now that you released everything out, you can start over from zero.” Strix told him. The same would apply to future Overblots she had a feeling she’ll come across, not just from Riddle.

Riddle avoids making eye contact with her serene blue gaze. She didn’t have to remind him how he bursted into tears like a toddler...

He notices her still staring at him. “...What? If you have something else to say then say it.”

She propped an elbow atop the knee of her crossed legs and held her cheek as she stared with a mirthful shimmer in her eyes. “You’re cute.”

Riddle choked and almost fell off the bed. How did she say that with a straight face? Does she enjoy teasing the hell out of him?

“Yes I do.” “How-?!” “Your face speaks louder than words, little ladybug~” “Don’t call me that!”

Leona Kingscholar

Strix couldn’t believe she had to do this the second time. The term hadn’t even passed half way and there’s been two Overblot incidents already. NRC is on a roll.

Leona gets bored easily in the rundown dorm. That’s why most of their time together is spent playing chess.

Leona learns Strix has one hell of a poker face. He couldn’t tell if that was natural or if she really was putting on a mask. Sometimes it may fall between the two. Perhaps even the girl herself doesn’t even know.

He wants to test the waters. How flustered can this blank-faced owl really be. Boredom drives the feline’s curiosity.

“Oi, supervisor. Fix my bedding. It’s uncomfortable.” A roll of her eyes. “As you wish, ‘your highness’...”

After she fluffed the pillow and smoothed the wrinkles, she was about to leave when a long tail wraps around her wrist.

“...Do you need something else?”

He plops back on the bed and turns to his side, facing her. His tail still wrapped snugly on her small wrist, he pulls her hand to his lips, teeth lightly grazing the soft flesh base of her thumb. Striking green eyes look up beneath his lashes. “Your undivided attention.”

Strix jolted. Shivers crawled down her spine. What. The. Hell. Damn that was smooth, but she’ll die before admitting it to him.

Strix pursed her quivering lips. She then released a sigh; a delicious blush was evident on her porcelain white cheeks, contrasting her vivid eyes that remind him of the clear sunny blue skies of his homeland.

Her stiff hand slowly relaxed on his skin. Long slim fingers brush his hair and massage his scalp. “I didn’t think you’re so needy for affection...” She mumbled, avoiding his gaze. He really is a cat in and out.

Leona closed his eyes and smirked in triumphant content, ears twitching twice. He could say the same for her.

Azul Ashengrotto

Strix simply sipped her tea as she relives this scene for the third time. “Welcome to the Post-Overblot Prohibition club. Be glad you fixed the dorm after the first two. You’d be eating dust first thing in the morning.”

“Is this how you treat your guests? With that kind of hospitality?” “Try being in my shoes. I get underpaid dealing with everyone’s nonsense, including you I’ll have you know.”

After Azul Overblotted, he suddenly became more intrigued with Strix, as if he wasn’t already due to her appearance of a beautiful mermaid. Even the fish mistook her for one when she was admiring the underwater view from behind the glass.

“You would fit in swimmingly with the merfolk if you were a mermaid yourself, Strix.” He’d say with smooth buttery sweetness that fell to nothing on her ears as Strix fixed his bedding.

“I’m good walking with my feet, thank you.” She had already attracted the merfolk visiting the museum, who mistook her for a mermaid in the disguise of a human. Everyone there, man and woman, old and child, thought she was very beautiful as a human. Imagine her being a mermaid.

“I can make it happen, you know. The underwater sea seems to treat you much kindly than the earth.” Azul was testing her. Where does her soul truly desire? She can’t deny her heart.

Strix was quiet, not once sparing a glance his way. “...Maybe so. The merpeople seem nice, but I bet that was because of my looks. Regardless, I want to remain on land. The people I love are not from the sea. Otherwise, I’d gladly take your offer. Putting that aside...”

Strix grips Azul’s jaw, holding a spoonful of steamy warm porridge made by yours truly.

“Eat your damn porridge, you junk-foodie octopus!”

Azul can’t wait to finally get out of this hell hole.

[juminsmysticmc]

How would the RFA+ minor trio react to a Romanian s/o?

RFA + Minor Trio with a Romanian Mc

So, I hope I have everything right, I love to write these kind of things because you can learn a lot of things from other cultures, although I‘m often unsure since the internet often also gives wrong information...so please forgive me and if anything isn’t correct, tell me please

Jumin

When the guard let you in, he couldn’t believe that such a beautiful woman actually existed.

You were tall, but not as tall as the black haired CEO-in-line himself. 

You were slim, but still had a beautiful body and were fair skinned.

Your eyes were as blue as the summer sky and Jumin thought that looking at you would be like looking at the sky.

Your long blonde hair was just as shiny as if it was made of gold.

,,Beautiful…“ he mumbled, which made you chuckle, which was also very beautiful to hear.

It wasn’t a fake chuckle like every woman did who wanted to be one of his favourites.

The two of you got to know each other better and he quickly found out that you weren’t Korean, but Romanian.

,,I wanted to get to know something new. Just when I was about to go back to my homeland, Unknown contacted me and I actually fell in love with you…“ you told him.

And finally, it was far more serious than either of you imagined.

You guys got married and Jumin got to know your family. 

You weren’t just sociable, your whole family was!

,,Taking me to your home here in Moldova was an amazing idea… the nature, the green landscape… I think we should buy a house to spend our vacation here in the future!“ Jumin told you and was quite amazed by the surroundings.

You guys found out that pancakes with melon marmalade was actually your favorite dish from then on.

Zen

Hand in hand, you and your beautiful boyfriend walked down the street.

Suddenly, you noticed that Zen kept looking at you.

,,What is it?’’ you said to him in Korean. 

From your accent he could hear that you weren’t Korean, but hell, your voice and the Korean sounds sounded way more correct than other’s words.

Zen held your hand tighter as he suddenly felt his heart throb. 

He never thought he could fall in love so deeply with a person.

He never thought that this beautiful feeling could hurt him just as much.

The young man wanted to know more about you.

With the free hand he had, he stroked your pale cheek and lightly touched your skin.

As if he was in trance, he put back your long dark blonde hair.

He then looked up to you, into your green eyes.

They were just as green as the shiniest emeralds.

,,Where... where are you from? You’re such a beauty. Are you sure that you’re not an angel?’’he asked you, unsure as he kept looking at you.

You chuckled ,,Yeah, I’m pretty sure, my prince. I’m the work of two human beings who lived their whole life in Bukovina, won’t you go and see it for yourself someday?’’ you asked him.

You perfectly could kiss him on his lips since you were almost just as tall as he was.

Zen couldn’t believe it but a few days later you proudly showed him two tickets for your homeland in romania and a few days later the both of you found yourself in a stranger’s bed.

He chuckled as he tucked you below the warm and cozy sheets.

,,Are you sure that they won’t kill us?’’ he asked you.

Your cold hands searched his warm skin and rested on his hot spots.

,,Yeah. Here, everyone is welcome. We Romanians take in everyone and even if they kill us, we can die together!’’ you laughed and made him smile again.

Zen believed in you.

And indeed, two days later, after sleeping at random people’s houses, you two arrived at your parents’ house.

Yoosung

A bright light appeared behind you as the young blond man looked at you.

Your dark hair rested on your shoulders as you approached him, just to make him realize how much taller he was when you stood in front of him.

Nonetheless, he felt as if he had to reach out for you.

It was as if you’re so far away from him and as if it would take him years until he could touch your skin.

,,MC!’’ the young man suddenly jumped up straight in his bed with wide eyes that had to adjust to the dark room.

Suddenly, someone turned on the light.

You rubbed your beautiful eyes and looked at him with your brown innocent eyes.

Your dark cheeks seemed kind of red tonight.

You put back your brown hair and looked at him.

,,Ce este?’’ you asked him in Romanian as you kept rubbing your eyes.

,,Don’t, it’s bad,’’ he mumbled half asleep as he took your hands in his own, away from your beautiful eyes.

For a moment, you stared at his face before you glared at him.

,,Seriously? Yoosung, you called my name! I was dreaming!’’ you whined and made him chuckle quite a bit.

But then you pushed him back into his pillow with all the strength you had. 

Your body was on his and the sheets were on the floor.

Yoosung had to blink three times before he could fall into your beautiful brown eyes.

,,Know what I was dreaming about?’’ you asked him, your voice quite hot.

He chuckled and stayed silent so that you would keep talking.

,,I had a wet dream and…’’ you began to move your hips.

,,When you called my name…’’ you went on, kissing slowly on his neck.

,,I thought you did the same…’’ you laughed.

,,What did you dream this time?’’ you whispered as you looked at his face.

He suddenly embraced you and nuzzled his head into you as he mumbled that he felt as if you would go further away.

,,No way. The only place I would go to is Muntenia, but of course I would take you along,’’ you tried to joke.

,,I’m here… forever,’’ you promised him.

Jaehee

The young, long haired, woman entered her shop just to see you quarrelling with Yoosung once again.

Jaehee had to chuckle for some reason. 

It was impossible to change your nature after all.

,,Yoosung,’’ Jaehee called, seeing that Yoosung’s eyes were teary.

,,What did you do to my Oltenia girlfriend?’’ Jaehee asked with a smile on her face.

,,I wonder too!’’ the boy whined as he watched Jaehee so he wouldn’t have to look into your big green eyes.

Jaehee laughed as she kissed you.

,,Are you all so quarrelsome?’’ she asked you and laughed.

You turned your head and suddenly blushed a deep red.

,,No… I mean, yeah...?’’ you confessed and kept making some Savarine.

Jaehee loved to see you make desserts from your homeland.

They were much sweeter than the Asian desserts and it was something that she loved.

But you couldn’t just do desserts pretty well, but also normal dishes like Ciorbă de burtă, which somehow became one of her favourite soups.

You and Jaehee actually already visited Oltenia for the fifth time.

And Jaehee had to be honest. 

She was so thankful and happy that she finally found you and that you freed her from Jumin’s prison. 

You made her see something more from the world and feel totally different feelings.

,,What are you looking at me, huh?’’ you asked her, blushing again.

,,Actually,’’ Jaehee laughed ,,I’m unsure if you're an Oltenia woman or if you’re just a Yandere!’’ Jaehee teased you.

Saeyoung

,,Ahh! I‘m gonna kill her! Vacă stupidă!“ you hissed, making your boyfriend and his twin brother look at you.

,,Saeran, hide yourself! She‘s going to become a vampire!“ he whispered, making you glare at him.

,,JUST BECAUSE TRANSYLVANIA IS MY HOME, DOESN‘T MEAN THAT I‘M A VAMPIRE!“ you loudly yelled at him.

Your pale cheeks slowly turned red because of the anger.

Saeyoung kept laughing and got up, stroking your blonde hair.

He looked at your beautiful blue eyes until he finally asked you why you were so angry.

Usually you were the most opportunistic in the house who could change a single detail and turn it into something valuable for you and your family.

But even though you were like that, you were pretty short tempered.

,,Someone who’s supposed to be my friend stabbed me in the back,’’ you explained and closed your phone.

,,You know,’’ you went on ,,I live with the M-o-facut mama Oltean song: Cin’ se ia cu mine bine, íí dau haina de pe mine, cin’ se ia cu mine, rau, sa-l fereasca Dumnezeu, ca sunt sarpe de Dudau, de-l galben ce musca rau,’’ you told him.

Saeyoung nodded, understanding every word while Saeran looked at the both of you in disbelief before he got up, shaking his head while walking out.

,,So, can I be good and bad to you? I want you to get me your clothes, but I also want the yellow bush snake in you to bite me ferociously,’’ Saeyoung laughed.

Saeran

With your bright smile and good mood you took Saeran by his hand and led him through the Festival Ouălelor Încondeiate, which takes place every year in Romania.

Both of you were currently enjoying some vacation since staying in Korea was too much for both of you to handle right now.

,,Ciocanesti is the village of the Painted Eggs Museum,’’ you began. 

Looking at all the beautiful colors made your blue eyes shine even brighter.

,,It’s amazing because national and international artists can display their talent,’’ you told him, looking at the market with your red haired boyfriend.

But you weren’t the only one who was amazed by the whole colorful pictures. 

By the good mood around you and the music which made the atmosphere even better, he too couldn't stop grinning as he looked at all the people competing against each other and still having a lot of fun.

Suddenly, you pulled him to you and began to move your head to the rhythm of the song which the priester sang.

,,This is our music!’’ you said happily.

Saeran suddenly realized that you guys were pretty religious.

And quickly he realized that this atmosphere was totally different from where he lived all his life and that now that he knew you, he wanted to see something new about you.

Jihyun

You and your boyfriend walked up the street, you with your colorful bandana which covered your head.

Your dark hair was put together since the weather was kind of warm and sticky.

But still, Jihyun couldn’t stop taking pictures of you.

He took pictures of your smiling face, your shining eyes as you looked at the landscape around you, and the wonderful expressions you made whenever you saw something new.

You and Jihyun were currently in Timișoara since you wanted to show him the Piața Unirii and the surrounding area.

,,You know,’’ you began as your eyes stayed on the building.

,,The idea of doing this church was from 1732. Can you imagine how long this has been here already?’’ you asked him, amazed by the building.

Finally, Jihyun looked at the building instead of you and suddenly he could feel the amazing feeling he had towards the Romanians.

Both of you walked a lot that day as you looked at the ,,Casa cu lei’’ which was the house of the leons and even entered the church.

The beauty of the inside made you gasp.

Jihyun looked at you. 

This was the moment after three years where he realized that he was going to marry you, who would get amazed by such simple things.

Vanderwood

,,It’s too hot to go sightseeing…’’ Vanderwood complained as you pulled him into the Peles Castle.

It was a wonderful summer castle which was constructed in 1874.

But as soon as he entered the beauty of your homeland, he had to gasp at its beauty.

This wasn’t your first time in the castle, but you still knew how he must have felt.

So much beauty and the past in one single building.

,,Vanderwood, our hotel is just 10 minutes away from the castle!’’ you laughed when he grumbled about how long it would take.

Vanderwood wanted to visit your homeland once and as soon as he told you his wish, you booked a room in your aunt's hotel and made sure that your boyfriend got to know your family and your environment.

,,I have to say that I really enjoy the time here…’’ he whispered as you sat next to him around a rivulet in the woods.

It was just the way Vanderwood liked it: Neat and calm.

Just the both of you and your love.

,,Tomorrow we can go to Sinaia. It’s the city which is just 800 Meters away from here,’’ you told him, looking up at him.

He nodded and suddenly kissed you while he stroked your pale face.

,,Mc...’’ he mumbled as he put your blonde hair behind your ear.

,,Mhhh...?’’ you asked him, nervous about what he would say.

,,I want to come here again with you someday so… let’s take things easy with the sightseeing,’’ he chuckled, making you roll your eyes, but also kiss him back.

I went on booking.com and googled the place, the Hotel I found looked so good (even though I’m not the kind of person who likes the nature) that suddenly I wanna go there...lol

MASTERLIST 1

MASTERLIST 2

MASTERLIST 3

19.03.2020// 00:17 MEST

[warofshadowstheorder]

Chapter 05

Bledsoe never enjoyed flying.  Growing up on a Cattle Ranch in Rory, Wyoming she was much more comfortable in a saddle than an aisle seat.  She’d never been on an airplane until she left for college.  It was a new experience, and as soon as she got back on the ground she knew that she wanted to avoid air travel whenever possible.

This particular trip was made worse by the fact that she was with Taylor the entire time.  The two of them were civil to each other on the commercial flight to Miami, primarily because Bledsoe spent most of the flight on the earbuds she brought with her.  They were at each other’s throats for most of the private flight to Guantanamo.

For every time Taylor reiterated his theory of Bledsoe being an informant to the assassin, Bledsoe gave a very well-placed and calculated verbal jab at Taylor’s ego or bandaged nose.  After Taylor used a crude term to describe her, Bledsoe let loose with a barrage of several words she had heard her cattle-rancher dad use out in the pasture.

“Real nice language for an Ivy League graduate,” Taylor replied, “did you ever go to class or did you just give your professors inside information in exchange for passing grades?”

“First off,” Bledsoe said, “I was a cattleman’s daughter long before I ever set foot on Yale.  And secondly, I learned early that one should communicate at the level of one’s audience, which forces conversation with you to the level of non-fertilizer grade manure.  Or, in words you can understand…bullshit.”

Taylor was visibly shaken by this and getting ready to offer a fierce retort when the pilot’s voice came over the intercom.

“You’ll want to fasten your seatbelts back there, we’re making our final descent.”

Taylor muttered something under his breath and buckled his seatbelt while Bledsoe sat down and did the same.  The descent went by without event.  As the plane coasted on the runway, Bledsoe looked out her window and saw a military jeep waiting on the tarmac.

Two Marines stepped out of the jeep when the plane stopped moving and stood by the entrance ramp.  Taylor and Bledsoe each put on their sunglasses, picked up their respective carryon bags, and moved to the door.

The contrast in temperatures was evident when they were met by a blast of tropical climate, an oppressive combination of heat and humidity unknown to D.C. residents, the moment they crossed the threshold between the plane and the outside.  The sun was beginning to set and twilight was upon them, but the air outside still felt like walking on the bottom of a heated swimming pool.  Inwardly, Bledsoe wondered why anyone wanted to retire to the tropics.

“Welcome to Guantanamo sir, ma’am” the first Marine said as Taylor and then Bledsoe came down, “Gunnery Sergeant Andrews and Lance Corporal Jacobi.  My dad said that you’d be coming.”

Gunnery Sergeant Michael Andrews had grown up in the Secret Service lifestyle and had nothing but respect and admiration for his father.  His father had served in the military prior to joining the Service and encouraged his son to do the same when he initially expressed interest in following in his footsteps.

He took his father’s advice and enlisted in the Marines immediately after graduating from High School.  He’d initially planned on sweating out a tour and getting some college courses completed before finishing up his Degree and joining the Secret Service.  That plan fell through when he discovered that he loved the Corps too much to leave it behind.

Consequently, several years, promotions, and deployments later he found himself at his current assignment.  His only concerns in life were accomplishing his present objective before moving on to the next ones.

“Nice to meet you,” Taylor said standing so that Bledsoe was completely blocked from view and shaking Andrews’ hand, “I imagine that you know why I’m here.”

“Affirmative Agent Taylor,” Andrews answered, “and if you would take a vest from Lance Corporal Jacobi here,” he gestured to his fellow Marine who was holding two bulletproof vests, “we’ll get moving.”

Taylor walked up to Jacobi, took a vest from him and strapped it on before climbing into the front seat of the jeep.

“You must be Agent Bledsoe,” Andrews said shaking her hand.  “My dad wanted to let you know that there will be a plane here tomorrow to take you back to the homeland.”

“Thank you Gunnery Sergeant,” Bledsoe answered earning a smile from the Gunnery Sergeant before taking the vest from Jacobi and sitting next to him in the back of the jeep.  Bledsoe was extremely upset about not being able to stay for the entire interrogation.  But, she remembered what Assistant Director Andrews had said before she and Taylor left and knew that she was fortunate to be getting to do as much as she was.  Gunnery Sergeant Andrews started up the jeep and the four of them drove off.

“What can you tell us about him?” Taylor asked after a few moments.

“Nothing,” Andrews answered, “we took his biometrics and a DNA sample when we processed him.  But he doesn’t show up anywhere on the grid.  We’ve even run his info through INTERPOL, and we still come up empty.  It’s like he doesn’t exist.”

“Have you questioned him,” Taylor asked, “please tell me that you’ve got something we can build on.”

“Some of the MPs have questioned him,” Andrews replied, “HUMINT will work on him later.  All he’s said so far is…” he paused trying to remember, “Lance Corporal Jacobi, what did he say?”

Corporal Jacobi took out a piece of paper and read the writing on it.  “He said, ‘war is declared and battle come down.’  Then later when we asked what he meant by that he responded ‘The ice age is coming with a meltdown expected, but I have no fear.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Taylor asked, “Is this guy part of some terrorist organization?  Maybe eco-terrorism?”

Bledsoe, who had been mouthing what was said after “…the ice age is coming,” laughed from the backseat.  Taylor and Jacobi both turned to look at her.

“What the hell is so funny?!” blurted Taylor rudely, “is that some kind of code that you and all your assassin cohorts use?!”

Andrews and Jacobi shot confused sideways glances at the sound of Taylor’s voice.

“When you question him later,” Bledsoe answered slightly annoyed but with a hint of her earlier laugh, “ask him if he lives by the river?.”  There was a pause while all three of the men in the jeep got confused looks on their faces.  “Don’t you guys ever listen to The Clash?!”  She asked the last part in a voice that suggested a simultaneous disbelief and disgust, “That’s paraphrased from London Calling.”

“Huh,” Jacobi said, “thank you ma’am.  We’ve been trying to figure that out for hours.”

The rest of the drive passed by in silence, the embarrassment of Bledsoe’s comment and his own outburst festered within Taylor’s mind the entire way.  Taylor and Bledsoe got their visitor’s passes as they entered through the Northeast gate.  They drove near the facility and then got out of the jeep, leaving their bags inside.

“Sir, ma’am, I recommend you be quick,” Andrews said as he led them to an interrogation room after they checked their weapons, “because his lawyer is on his way down and you know once he gets here we’ll be very limited in what information we can get.”

Taylor and Bledsoe were silent as they made their way down the hallway.  Both of them were thinking of what they were going to do next, and relishing the feel of the air-conditioned building.  All the anger and frustration that Taylor was feeling since the assassination was threatening to come out, but he was keeping things in check by reminding himself that he had a job to do and needed to be focused.

Bledsoe replayed every aspect of the night Saunders was shot inside her head, completely aware that her assigned mission at the detention facility was to identify the suspect.  Having not seen either man’s entire face that night, and not having had any time to watch the news or read the papers since the assassination, all she had to go on was a pair of Prussian blue eyes, and she knew that it would be almost impossible to postively identify him based on that feature alone.

The only other traits she had to go on were views of both of them from behind dressed in black.  She had grappled up close and personal with the one they had in custody, but didn’t think that the guards would be keen with her fighting him again as a means to identify him based on his technique.

“Well,” Andrews said breaking them out of their respective trances, “there he is.”

The two agents looked through the one-way glass at the man who didn’t exist.  He wore an orange jumpsuit and was shackled by handcuffs and leg irons.  He sat calmly with his hands folded.  The people observing him didn’t know what to make of his appearance.  He didn’t have a look that suggested he was uncomfortable, or confident, or even crazy.  He just sat complacently and occasionally twiddled his thumbs or drummed his fingers.

“You can do whatever you want with him,” Andrews said, “we’ve turned off the camera and Lance Corporal Jacobi and I will be going out to the front to wait for the lawyer.”

“Is there anything else we should know about before we go in there?” Taylor asked.

“Only that we turned off the air-conditioner,” Andrews answered, “but I don’t think it’s having any effect on him.”

“I know,” Jacobi interjected in disbelief, “it’s crazy.  One time the A/C went out in our office building and we thought we’d die.  He’s been in there for more than two hours and hasn’t even shown any sign of discomfort.  Seriously, I’ve seen locals here break down under conditions like what this guy’s been through.”

“In any case,” Andrews continued, “until the lawyer gets here, he’s all yours.”

The Marines then walked back down the corridor.  Taylor and Bledsoe both looked at Odin for a few more moments before Taylor faced Bledsoe.

“You stay here.  I don’t need you interfering with my interrogation and telling your friend how to escape.”

Taylor entered the interrogation room and closed the door behind him before Bledsoe could reply.  She settled for looking through the glass at the events transpiring inside the room.

Taylor walked in and stood on the other side of the table from where the prisoner sat.  It was obvious that the man’s captors hadn’t made anything easy on him.  He was unshaven and filthy, and it didn’t take a Bloodhound to notice that he hadn’t bathed in quite some time.  The backs of his eyes were red with bags under them, and yet the expression on his face was one of confidence.  It was clear that the prisoner was in control, if only in his own mind.

Taylor paused for a moment, waiting for the prisoner to make the first move.  The bare walls in the room and the empty atmosphere were a stark contrast to the unexpressed tension in the air between Taylor and the man sitting down in front of him.

“Hey,” the prisoner said snapping his fingers and speaking in a confident voice devoid of any accent, “I recognize you from the pavilion.  Although, I have to admit it’s a little difficult with that thing over your nose.”

“Who the hell are you?” Taylor said as calmly as he could manage, “tell me that much and this little interview will go a lot better for you.”

“Okay,” the prisoner said in a hoarse whisper, “you caught me, so I guess that it’s time to fess up to everything.”

Taylor sat down and leaned forward, interested to know just who the man across from him was.

“My name is Clark Kent, and when I’m not undermining the reputation of law enforcement agencies, I’m a mild-mannered reporter for the Daily Planet.”  Raising his voice to normal levels, the prisoner quipped.  “Does that work for you?”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”  Taylor answered trying to suppress the anger welling up inside him.  “If you don’t want to tell us who you are then that will become your problem soon enough.  However,” he paused briefly to ensure that he had Odin’s attention, “I would like to know how you were able to pull that off.”

“Could you be a bit more specific?” Odin asked.

“How were you…” Taylor said, pausing to regain his composure, “…able to infiltrate security, bring in what I can only imagine was a sniper rifle, literally dodge bullets, one of my colleagues tells me you and another man literally disappeared in front of her, and then there’s the matter of you fighting off around two dozen well-trained men.”

“Well,” the prisoner answered acting like he was thinking hard, “I suppose it all started back when I was fifteen and I began wondering why that cartoon bird keeps eating Cocoa Puffs when they clearly make him mentally unstable…”

“Shut up,” Taylor said with a calm but annoyed tone, “if you aren’t going to give me a straight answer then just say so.”

“I can deal with that.  But seriously, do you think that you’re going to get any real information from me?”

“It would be in your best interest,” Taylor answered.  “It would help your case and prevent your jailers from using any unpleasant means to obtain information that you’re withholding.”

The shackled prisoner started laughing after Taylor’s last statement.  Taylor stared at him with a mixture of frustration and curiosity.

“You know what’s funny?” drawled the man in the orange jumpsuit.  “You actually think that I’m stuck here, that you’ve got me locked up.”

“I actually like to break it to you,” Taylor said, “but look around.  You can’t get any more stuck than you are.”

“I actually like to break it to you,” came the confident reply, “I’m only here as long as I want to be.  I can leave anytime I want.  And there is nothing you, or anyone else, can do to prevent that.”

Bledsoe had been watching and listening to all the proceedings.  She found herself being amused by the man who was trying Taylor’s patience more than anyone she’d ever seen.  She was also paying close attention to everything she could observe about him now that he wasn’t in his tactical clothes.  As she continued to take in everything she could, she tried to remember as much as possible from the incident two nights ago.

Staring intently at Odin, but mindful of her surroundings, she could hear a few people approaching where she was standing, but kept her gaze fixed on the shackled man.

“Agent Bledsoe,” Andrews called out as he approached.  Bledsoe turned to see him and Jacobi escorting a short man with a receding hairline and a constant twitch on the left side of his face.

“How’s it going in there with your partner?” Andrews asked.

“I don’t think he’s making any real progress,” she replied honestly.  “And who are you?” she politely asked the short man.

“I’m the counsel for the accused,” he answered in a nasally voice, “and from the looks of things you’ve had enough private time with my client.”  Moving to the door, he entered the room and pulled up a chair next to his client.  Bledsoe watched him share some words with Taylor, who then left the room, leaving the accused to confer with his counsel.

As he closed the interrogation room door, Taylor vented his frustration.  “Okay Bledsoe, can you give us anything on that degenerate?”

“I can’t say whether he was the one who pulled the trigger,” she said, “but I can tell you for sure that he was the one I fought with and not the one who jumped me.”

“And how the hell can you tell that?” Taylor asked still in his frustrated tone.

“I got the feeling that the guy who jumped me was a lot quieter than he is.  And besides,” she took another good look at Odin, “his eyes aren’t the same.”

“You never mentioned that you’d seen his eyes,” Taylor said still frustrated.

“I didn’t think it was relevant at the time,” Bledsoe answered, “but the man who jumped me had Prussian blue eyes.  In any case, this isn’t him.”

“Who’s going to be prosecuting him?” Taylor asked Andrews.

“We’re still trying to figure out whose jurisdiction he falls under,” Andrews answered, “I already told you that he doesn’t show up at all on the grid.  We can’t even place where he’s from.  Our hands are tied until we can figure out some kind of jurisdiction.  We can only get away with keeping him here for so long.”

“Well,” Taylor said with his back to Bledsoe, standing between her and Andrews, “we should try to pressure him into giving us his accomplice.  At the very least we can take the death penalty off the table.”

Realizing that her part was done, Bledsoe started off down the hallway.

“Excuse me ma’am,” Corporal Jacobi called out as she walked past him while Taylor and Andrews continued their conversation, “but if you would like to rest before you head back, we can provide you with a temporary hooch.”

“That would be very nice,” Bledsoe answered.  She had been so caught up in everything that was going on and her arguments with Taylor throughout the trip down that she hadn’t noticed how exhausted she was.  She could never sleep on a plane.

“This way then ma’am,” Jacobi replied before leading Bledsoe down the corridor and outside.

The sun had set, the moon and stars now decorating the evening sky.  Jacobi took Bledsoe to the jeep and drove her to an area near the barracks.  He led her to a room near the front where a cot had been set up with a pillow and a blanket.

“I’m sorry that we can’t offer you more, ma’am,” Jacobi said, “I’m afraid this is the best we can do on short notice.”

“This is fine,” Bledsoe said as she sat down on the cot and placed her bag on the floor, “thank you.”  Jacobi nodded and excused himself, leaving Bledsoe to her new accommodations.

Bledsoe took off her shoulder holster and placed it on the floor next to her bag.  She stretched out on the cot and stared at the ceiling.  She couldn’t help thinking of the man that she could only refer to as Clark Kent and the fact that his accomplice was still out there somewhere.  It tore her apart inside to remember that she was going to have to sit it out while others searched for the accomplice and eventually prosecuted Clark Kent.  Within minutes, her exhaustion took over and she drifted into a deep sleep.

She was dreaming almost immediately after falling asleep.  She was on another assignment and patrolling her designated area. As she pacing around, she turned and saw the same eyes of the man who had jumped her from the shadows in the pavilion.  She stood facing him, not knowing what to do.

Her assailant just stood and faced her.  She stared into his eyes, the image that had been indelibly burned into her psyche since the brief moment when she had seen them.  After what seemed like an eternity, Bledsoe spoke.

“Who are you?” she asked, the dream mists blocking all sounds from her earpiece, masking all else from her surroundings.

The figure just stood where he was, immobile.  Bledsoe stared straight ahead at him, transfixed, searching to take in anything new.  Knowing his height from seeing the back of him, she endeavored to fill in the rest.

She remembered the G.I. Joe comic books her older brother Hunter collected and used the character named Snake-Eyes to construct a form for the bane of her existence.  She waited in anticipation, and then held her breath when he reached his hand forward in a motion that suggested he was about to remove whatever kind of mask he was wearing and reveal his face.

At that moment, the blaring sound of a siren piercing the night sky jarred her awake.

[mikauzoran]

LuXY/Lukadrien/Lukadrienette: Welcome to La-La Land: Chapter Four

@luxyweek

Welcome to La-La Land: Chapter Four: Kwami “Swap”

“Dude. I can’t believe you’ve never had nacho cheese,” XY snorted, sounding personally insulted at this failure on Luka’s part.

Luka winced. “I’m sorry?”

“Don’t worry. I’m coming over there to fix this,” XY assured. “Where are you? The Liberty? Your place?”

“My apartment, but—”

“—No buts,” XY cut him off. “Six-Strings, this is an emergency. I’ll be right there.”

XY rang off, and all Luka could do was wait. He’d learned over the past two months of hanging out with Xavier-Yves Roth that once XY got an idea in his head, he was going to act upon it, and no one could stop him.

Luka got up off of his couch and went to change into something more flattering than the laundry he’d been lounging around the flat in.

 “What kind of cheese is this?” Luka frowned at the golden liquid drowning the tortilla chips.

XY shrugged and replied with a full mouth, “Velveeta, I think.”

Luka blinked, pulled out his phone, and opened up a Google search.

“…Velveeta is not a cheese,” he hissed a minute later once he’d read the Wikipedia article.

XY frowned. “Sure it is. America is known for this stuff. It’s even more popular than American cheese.”

Luka pinched the bridge of his nose, imagining how Plagg would shriek if he found out. “I have a friend who would be personally offended if he heard you call this cheese. Like, he’d go on the rant.”

XY waved away Luka’s protestations. “Try it already. It’s delicious.”

With a sigh, Luka picked up a chip laden with the cheese-adjacent substance and brought it to his lips. It definitely wasn’t as bad as he’d been expecting, but the suspect origin of the product kind of unsettled him. He preferred his food fresh and from an identifiable source. Maybe he’d been spoiled on getting his food from street markets and local cheese mongers and butchers, but this super-processed, plastic-looking not-cheese kind of weirded him out.

“It’s okay,” he allowed, taking another bite and trying to get over himself. “Thank you for sharing.”

“‘Okay’?” XY snorted indignantly. “Dude, this is a delicacy from my homeland. It’s more than just okay. Your taste buds are whack.”

Luka paused with another chip halfway to his mouth, and a glob of the “cheese” dribbled off the side, landing with a splat on the kitchen table. “Wait. Your homeland? But…you’re French.”

XY’s eyebrow shot straight up into his hairline. “Dude. I’m American.”

Luka blinked. “No, you’re not. Xavier-Yves, your name is French. You speak French. You’ve lived here your whole life.”

“Uh, noooo.” He sang the word on an upswing. “Six-Strings, what’s my dad’s name?”

Luka frowned. “…Bob Roth?”

It suddenly occurred to him that that wasn’t a typical French name.

“Right.” XY nodded. “My mom’s French, but my dad is American. He had to take French in high school, and when his class went on a trip to Paris, he fell in love with the place, so he was back and forth a lot after that. That’s how he met my mom.”

“Oh,” Luka remarked, suddenly feeling rather dumb for never having known this about a guy he’d been periodically making out with for two whole months.

“I was born in the Bronx and didn’t move to France until I was ten. Why do you think my French sounds so funky?” XY laughed at himself. “My mom spoke to me in French a little when I was a kid, but my parents divorced when I was really young, and she moved back to France, so I didn’t start learning French for real until I was ten. I know I speak it all the time now because I’ve pretty much lived here the past twenty years, but it’s not my first language. I didn’t learn it at home, so it’s not, you know, natural like it probably was for you.”

“Oh,” Luka repeated, seeing XY’s occasionally odd speech patterns in a new light.

Luka knew from his experiences learning Russian and English that no matter how good you got at a second or third language, it was never quite the same as speaking your mother tongue.

A thought occurred to Luka: “But…wasn’t it hard, transitioning from school in the US to school in France, if you didn’t speak French?”

XY gave a mirthless snort. “Hell yeah, it was. I had to go to special classes the first few years, and by the time I was ready to join the French school system, kids my age were way ahead of me, so I got put with a class of younger kids.”

Luka winced, trying to imagine how ostracizing that must have been to be dumped in a country where he didn’t speak the language, didn’t have any friends his age, didn’t have a supportive parent.

“I’m sorry. I bet that was awful,” he mumbled hollowly, not sure what else to say.

He felt bad for sometimes thinking that XY was kind of dumb. Luka had thought that maybe XY wasn’t inclined to academia and that his father hadn’t helped matters, but from the situation that XY described, it sounded like things had been stacked against him from the start. No wonder XY hadn’t thrived in that situation.

XY nodded, scooping up more yellow gloop onto a chip. “I hated it. I quit school as soon as I could when I was sixteen, and then I started focusing on my music for real—well…that wasn’t really until I was eighteen, after the incident with you, but…sixteen was when I started putting out tracks and made my debut and everything.”

“I don’t blame you for quitting,” Luka hummed, picking up a tortilla chip and tapping it against the plate to get some of the excess goo off. “I probably would have quit as soon as possible too…. Do you ever think about going back to the US?”

XY shrugged. “As much as I miss America, Paris is kind of my home now. I go back to visit every year, and I’ve toured there before for stretches, but I think I’m happy in Paris.”

He gave Luka a look that felt almost soft as he added, “My life is here.”

“Yeah,” Luka agreed. “I could visit other places, but I couldn’t stay away too long. My family is here…and all the people I care about.”

XY nodded. “…Speaking of your fam, they’ve never had nacho cheese either, have they?”

“Prune, I’m sorry to slight your cultural heritage, but you’re not feeding my family this stuff. Juleka will hate you,” Luka warned, trying to cut things off before it got to that point.

“Hate me more,” XY corrected. “Rose and your ma would probably get a kick out of it, though.”

Luka hummed as he picked up another chip and tapped off some of the cheese-impersonator. “Maman is part Scottish on her mother’s side, so she grew up eating gross things like sheep offal wrapped in stomach. She probably wouldn’t have a problem with this…uh…Velveeta…substance. Rose, however, being a Frenchwoman, might be offended that this product is masquerading as cheese.”

XY shrugged. “I’ll make nachos for Anarka to try, and the rest of us can have Taco Tuesday. Rose is a little carnivore. She’ll love it.”

“Taco Tuesday?” Luka repeated, tipping his head to the side.

“Yeah. It’s like a religious holiday in America for people who don’t have a religion. Every Tuesday we have Mexican food,” XY explained.

Luka frowned, mentally questioning the authenticity of the “Mexican” food but afraid to challenge XY again. “Everyone in the US does this?”

XY nodded. “It’s a big deal. They make t-shirts.”

Somehow Luka had missed this aspect of US culture.

“Oh! I almost forgot,” XY exclaimed suddenly. “After we clean up, remind me that I have a surprise for you.”

The surprise turned out to be leather pants.

XY hijacked Luka’s bathroom and came out wearing leather pants with a cyan, teal, and dark green pattern.

It was a pattern Luka knew well, and not only because he was romantically involved with the designer.

“They’re based on Viperion’s suit!” XY informed needlessly, doing a little turn to show off the backside.

XY had a magnificent backside, and the leather pants only flaunted this fact.

“You know. The snake hero?” XY pressed, and Luka realized that he was waiting for a response.

“Yeah. I remember him,” Luka assured, admiring the way the material clung to XY’s thighs.

It was an aesthetically pleasing sight.

“You really rock those, by the way,” Luka added, knowing the praise would be appreciated.

As expected, XY puffed out his chest and strutted with a little more confidence and attitude.

“Yeah, I do look pretty dope, don’t I?” He crowed.

“Very dope,” Luka affirmed, checking out XY’s calves.

In all honesty, Luka found that a person’s butt was the physical feature that most attracted him after he’d fallen for someone emotionally. Marinette did this butt wiggle that made Luka lose his mind, and Adrien in skinny jeans was akin to a religious experience.

XY definitely had a nice butt.

“That dude was always my favourite,” XY remarked, pulling Luka from his thoughts. “I always thought Viperion+ was super cool.”

“Y-You did?” Luka could feel his face starting to color.

“Mmhm.” XY turned again and started on another lap of Luka’s living room. “I was really excited when Jagged mentioned that his niece made these Viperion-inspired pants. I got a pair for you too.”

All the warm fuzzies immediately fled from Luka’s system.

Maybe XY would-n’t make him put them on now.

“I want to see you in them,” XY quickly squashed that hope, going over to his bag and pulling out a pair for Luka. “Go change,” he instructed, tossing the pants so that Luka had no choice but to catch them.

“Thanks,” Luka replied, attempting to sound excited. “That’s really thoughtful of you.”

Luka headed to the bathroom to change, hoping that XY wouldn’t recognize him just from the lower half.

“Niiiiiiice!” XY cheered, giving Luka a wolf whistle as he came back into the front room. “Give us a turn. I want to see that tush.”

“Oh my gosh,” Luka groaned, covering his face with his hands as he turned around as asked.

XY stiffened, staring dumbly at Luka’s butt. He bit out a guttural curse.

Luka dropped his hands and turned to look at XY in concern. “What? What happened?”

It took XY a minute to form coherent sentences. “Just… Could you…? Could you turn around again and walk away?”

Luka slowly turned and strode away from XY.

XY clapped a hand over his mouth and cursed again.

“What’s wrong?” Luka demanded, beginning to panic as he went over to XY on the couch.

XY’s face was so red that he looked like he was going to spring a nosebleed at any second.

He shook his head. “Just…I’ve spent a lot of time looking at pictures of Viperion’s butt.”

Luka’s hand paused en route to XY’s cheek. He blinked slowly.

XY gulped, keeping his hand clamped firmly over his mouth. “You can go ahead and deny it, if you want, but…you were Viperion, weren’t you?”

Luka opened his mouth but then closed it. “…I’m willing to bet that that’s the first time anyone’s ever had their secret identity outted by their behind. Obviously, you can’t tell anyone.”

XY cursed again. Internally, he was jumping up and down because the hero he’d had a massive crush on for the longest time was none other than his boyfriend. He was dating a superhero!!!

“Xavier-Yves,” Luka called, redirecting his attention. “I’m totally serious. You have to promise not to tell.”

XY nodded vehemently.

Luka sighed, sinking down on the couch next to XY and running a hand through his hair.

A thought occurred to XY: “It’s not weird that I’ve stared at pictures of your butt, is it?”

Luka contemplated this briefly but decided that he wasn’t one to judge, considering the amount of time he himself had spent ogling Adrien and Marinette.

He shrugged. “No. I mean, that would be kind of unfair of me, especially since I was just staring at your butt as you paraded around in those pants.”

XY burst out in a fit of giggles. “No way! Seriously?”

“Yep,” Luka came clean, admitting to his attraction. “You have a nice butt.”

XY squealed in delight, making Luka chuckle.

“…Can I…” XY bit his lip. He was feeling deliriously happy, and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin it, but… “Can I stay the night?”

Luka gave a slight start. He opened his mouth to reply, but XY cut him off.

“—Sorry! I know you don’t sleep with people you’re not in love with, and that’s fine. That’s not what I’m asking,” he rushed to explain. “I’m asking…do you maybe want to have movie night and then make out and snuggle?”

Luka took a deep breath and considered for all of five seconds before he nodded. “All right.”

It sounded like exactly the kind of evening that Luka wanted to have.

[eyesfixedonthesun22]

First Impressions

Summary: With the multiverse now in play, we visit an alternate universe where Steve Rogers is America’s first bisexual contestant on the ever popular and never lacking dating show, The Bachelor. Nick Fury is your illustrious host through the shocking announcement, contestant biographies, and the first night in the mansion. Only one question remains; who will get the first impression rose on what is promised to be the most dramatic season ever!? Pairing: Steve x Avengers Warning(s): Language. Kissing. A hell of a lot of cringe and bachelor/bachelorette tropes. Word Count: 3,238 Beta: The darling sweetheart @supersoldiersruined-me Notes: This is my entry to @revengingbarnes 10K writing challenge. My prompt was a Bachelor AU. Thank you so much for hosting this, Fatima! This prompt was honestly a challenge for me. I wasn’t sure which point of view and formatting I wanted. It’s certainly unlike anything I’ve ever written. Please no one hate me if I made your fav annoying. I just wanted to fit in as many bachelor personality tropes. The fic isn’t an actual representation of my thoughts on each character. 

Live Studio Audience: Intro

“Good evening and welcome to this exciting season of The Bachelor. I’m Nick Fury, your host for tonight.” The studio audience erupts into choreographed uproar. “Looks like Bachelor Nation is out in full force tonight. Are you all ready for what I promise is our most dramatic season ever?”

Nick commands the stage with a casual grace that only comes from years of hosting. “Last season you all watched as the beautiful bombshell Peggy Carter embarked on her quest for love; which she found with her now fiance. While we wish her the best of luck with her engagement, we couldn’t help be as heartbroken as you all were when a particular fan favorite was booted just before hometown dates. Let’s take a look at this season’s Bachelor!”

Broadcast: Steve’s Bio

“My name is Steve Rogers. I’m twenty-six years old. Born and raised in Brooklyn. You may know me from Peggy Carter’s season of The Bachelorette.”

The audience is treated with a montage of Steve at home in Brooklyn. He walks down the street to a corner bodega on a spring day; smiling and greeting the owner at the counter like they’re old friends. The old tabby cat sat on the counter near the register curls into his hand as he scratches behind her ears.

“A little known fact about me is that I really love cooking.” The next shot is him cooking a large family style meal in a stunning modern kitchen. The black hexagon tiles frame the close up of the saute pan as he flips the food; clearly practiced. The camera zooms in once more for a close up shot of Steve’s large calloused hands making deft work of chiffonading the basal to top his culinary masterpiece. As far as lusting goes, the depiction of Steve as the bachelor is a lot less macho and hits more boy-next-door.

“Things didn’t quite work out with Peggy and I. While we’re kindred souls, I think it just wasn’t the right time.” Steve’s no longer shown at home in his cozy apartment but in a carefully crafted video confessional booth.

The audience hears the producer’s voice off screen, “Do you think you’re over her? Are you ready for love?”

“Definitely. I learned a lot from Peggy. I learned who I am and what I need from a relationship. I’m ready for the whole damn thing. I want a partner, I want kids. I like pretty pedestrian, domestic things.” He looks down at his lap, almost as if he’s embarrassed. “I like ceremony. I wanna carve pumpkins and do the tree at christmas; all that.”

“Anything else you’d like to add to your intro?” The producers prompt. Steve’s broad shoulders straighten and take up much of the booth; his body tense with nervous energy which he masks with a radiant smile. He takes a deep breath before looking the camera dead in the eye.

“I’m Steve Rogers… and I’m the first bisexual Bachelor.”

Live Studio Audience:

The audience goes wild; homemade signs wave, men and women alike scream their delight. Nick Fury stands in the small center stage waiting for the crowds applause to dissipate.

“So needless to say, this season will be unlike anything you’ve ever seen before.” He smirks at the camera knowingly. “Before we jump back into tonight’s episode, would you guys like to hear from America’s sweetheart himself?” More incoherent cheering. “Let’s bring him on out!”

Steve appears from behind the crimson velvet curtain waving sheepishly. They’ve slicked back his locks doing nothing to detract from the classic bachelor look. He unbuttons the slim navy suit jacket as Fury gestures for him to sit on the small interview couch.

“Welcome, Steve. How ya feeling tonight?”

“Not gonna lie, Nick. I feel super nervous.” He fidgets in the seat a bit; rubbing the flats of his palms on the tops of his thighs. “Being the bachelor is one thing. Being the first bisexual bachelor is another.”

“Well I’m not sure about you guys, but I thought it was about time!” Nick’s enthusiasm draws more cheering from the crowd. “We got to know you on Peggy’s season and America just fell in love with you. You’re such a great guy; so genuine and compassionate.”

“Thank you, really, thank you. I honestly was terrified to be the first bisexual man on the show. Being the bachelor has always traditionally been typecast as a very specific type of man; one that I didn’t really see myself fitting into. So to be given this opportunity to find love and to have the support that I’ve gotten since the announcement has been beyond my wildest dreams.”

“You ready to jump into your season?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“While Steve may be our first bisexual bachelor, you can expect not much to change on the show. Each week contestants will be eliminated at a traditional rose ceremony. We’ll still have the first impression rose, hometown dates, and the always anticipated fantasy suits!”

Fury eyes Steve hoping to make him squirm a bit. Steve manages to make his sinful blush look composed while he chuckles.

“Without further ado let’s meet the delightful men and women vying for a spot in Steve’s heart.”

Broadcast: Contestant Bios

“My name? Tony Stark. Don’t worry about having your little design guys whip me a tagline; I’m certain no one needs it. Household name n’ all.” A smirking brunette stares directly into the camera and winks. He’s wearing rose tinted sunglasses despite the dimmed lighting of the interview space. “So what do you wanna know?”

The producers sigh before proceeding. “Tell us a bit about yourself.”

The camera stays in the testimonial booth but now a blonde women occupies the seat. Unlike the previous occupant she isn’t slouching but sits with excellent posture and poise.

“My name is Sharon McCarter. I’m an agent for the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. I need someone who’s ready for a fast paced lifestyle. My job keeps me on my toes.”

“What did you think when Steve was announced as the bachelor? What did you think of him being bisexual?”

“Honestly?” Sharon pauses a bit buffudled. “He seems a bit more clean cut then the guys I usually go for.” She looks at the camera with a hesitant smile.

“What would you say your passion is?”

“Fitness. Fitness and health, for sure.” The booth is now overwhelmed with an exceptionally huge man. His long blonde hair falls to his shoulders with delicate braids mixed into his locks. “I’m Thor Odinson. I own and operate Odinsons Gym with my brother Loki.”

“How would you describe yourself as a partner. What could Steve expect?”

Thor continues in his deep voice. It carries subtle hint of an accent not from the states, “Steve could expect the rough sexiness of a pirate mixed with the pure innocence of an angel; the perfect boyfriend if you ask me.”

“What kind of partner do you hope to be for Steve?”

“An attentive one. I’m a scientist by profession.” The tagline on the screen says that the brunette with the tossed curls currently answering his interview questions is Bruce Banner. “A good part of my job is being detail oriented and focused. I’d like to think I bring that same level of attentiveness and sensitivity to my partner.”

Live Studio Audience:

“Welcome back, Bachelor Nation! It looks like Steve has a great batch of men and women who couldn’t be more excited to get their journey started. Let’s see how Steve get’s along navigating his first night in Bachelor Mansion.

Show Footage:

The camera pans across a gorgeous california night sky and comes to land on Steve standing in front of Bachelor Mansion. They have him perfectly centered between two backlit trees with the ornate floral fountain babbling as a soundtrack. He fidgets with his plain black tie waiting for the first limo to pull up. He stares into the camera and mouths a very endearing “What do I do with my hands!”

From that moment on, it’s a parade of individuals dressed to the nines. The women stun in their gleaming and silky ball gowns. The men glow in their crisp suits. Each give their cheesy one liners to Steve before heading into the mansion.

A man named Phil, who insists that Steve call him Coulson, gives him a red, white, and blue sash emblazoned with the words America’s Sweetheart on it while wearing his own sash reading Mr. America. A women named Wanda introduces herself in a thick, sultry accent.

“Where are you from, Wanda?”

“Sakovia. I’m so excited to meet you. I look forward to teaching you about my culture and getting to know you better.”

After Wanda, the next person out of the limo is Clint. He makes a qippy one liner before sauntering into the mansion. A woman named Carol strolls confidently out of the limo nearly glowing in her crimson and gold gown. Next comes a bird. It’s not actually a bird; but rather a man in an oversized mascot type costume.

“Did you know that eagles mate for life?”

Steve stares at the camera for half a second as if questioning if the producers are serious. “I didn’t know that. Any chance I can see the eagle’s face? Or at least know his name?”

“We’ll save the pretty face for later, but the name is Sam.”

Steve takes a moment to compose himself after the bird’s introduction. The final woman exits the limo. She’s in a simple black dress that hugs her body dangerously. Her flame red hair cascades down one shoulder. Her introduction is clipped and to the point. Steve places a hand on her shoulder.

“Sorry I didn’t catch your name.”

Her face softens then. “It’s Natasha, but you can call me Nat.”

After the train of individuals Steve is looking more relaxed. He seems to have settled into his role with less nerves than when the show began. The final contestant steps out of the limo.

“Good evening, Steve. My name is James Barnes. You look so handsome tonight.”

Steve takes in the man across from him. He’s got equally broad shoulders as Steve; they’re nearly matched in height. He wears his silky brown locks at shoulder length with a dainty waterfall braid on one side. The baby blue of his pocket square matches his eyes.

“I can’t wait to get to know you, James.”

**************************************************************************************************

“Alright ladies and gentlemen, settle down. You all know who I am already,” Nick Fury is addressing all the contestants as they make themselves comfortable in the front living room at the mansion. “Steve! Why don’t you come on in here and get this cocktail party started?”

Steve enters the room gracefully. “I just want to thank you all for being here. I know that putting yourself out there in a new relationship is never easy; let alone in a situation like this one. It’s incredibly important to me that you all are your genuine selves. I wanna get to know the real you. Here’s to the start of something amazing!”

He raises his glass to a chorus of agreeing voices. There’s a half second of adjustment before Tony clasps Steve’s hand and tugs him away from the group.

“I’m gonna steal you first.”

Despite his depiction as an arrogant ass in his interview, Tony actually has a pleasant conversation with Steve. The audience is left wondering if Tony is the likeable wild card or this seasons possible obnoxious villain. Before Tony saunters off, he presses a deep kiss onto Steve’s lips.

“Had to get you first, handsome.” He winks and heads to the bar to refresh his drink.

Steve stares into the camera and states, “I guess we’re starting things off with a bang?”

**************************************************************************************************

Clint, being the critical observer, saunters over to the bar to find that Coulson is already posted up on one of the bar stools. It’s by sheer force of will that Coulson is upright as the lack of armrests and amount of alcohol he’s clearly consumed are working against him. Clint quickly surveys the situation and makes eye contact with the camera.

“How ya doin’ there Phil? Save some for us, huh?” Beneath the joke there is a hint of concern in his voice. It would appear the concern is warranted as Phil tips dangerously towards the edge of his seat before righting himself. The first stumble is corrected but the second lands him on the floor. “Whoa big guy. Can I get some help here? Producers? I think first night nerves may have lead Phil to throw back one too many.”

“No pro-hicc-ducers. I’m fine. I’m fiiiine,” Phil slurs. Despite Clint’s efforts to keep him upright he’s laying on the floor, cheek pressed firmly to the cold tile. “I just love Steve-hicc-so much. Ya know?”

“Sure you do buddy...sure you do?”

**************************************************************************************************

Steve speaks to Wanda, Bruce, and Thor in a series of rapid fire exchanges over the next couple of hours. After a warm conversation, Carol leaves Steve lounging on the plush chaise; promising that one day they’ll go stargazing together.

“No one told me these cocktail parties were so exhausting.” The camera crew chuckle. It’s endearing how much Steve utilizes them to break the tension. His unfiltered emotions only make him that much more of an approachable sweetheart. The makeup staff powder his face as Nick Fury approaches.

“We have about a half hour before the rose ceremony. Just a heads up. Any conversations you wanna have, have them now.”

Steve meanders through the expansive grounds. He’s clearly looking for something. He brushes off Thor asking for a second conversation with a polite excuse before take another turn in the winding paths.  He turns his head over his shoulder to ask the camera men which way back inside when he collides with something. Someone.

“It’s probably ill advised to get the attention of the man of your affections by knocking him on his ass, huh?” Bucky jokes. “I actually was coming to grab you for a conversation. I haven’t had a chance to talk to you all night.”

The two men are sat side by side, dress pants rolled up to their knees, while their legs swing gentle waves into the surface of the pool. Dusk has gone and night has come. They’ve been talking for some time now. They’ve both discarded their suit jackets but it’s done nothing to prevent the evening humidity from clinging their shirts to their muscles.

“I have to ask. I feel like I know you from somewhere.”

“Is that you cheesily telling me you feel like you’ve known me for one hundred years?” Steve asks in a singsong mocking tone.

“No! Punk! I’m serious though.” Bucky thinks for a moment before exclaiming, “Do you go to that bodega on the corner of Clark and Henry with Mr. O’Sullivan and his cat Maevie?”

“See I was having a great time chatting with you but now I have to send you home cause clearly you’re a stalker.”

“I knew it! You look...different?”

Steve chuckles gently. “I bulked up a bit for the show. Had to fit the ‘look’ ya know?”

“I feel like such an idiot for not talking to you sooner but I hadn’t seen you there in a long time. I usually go super late though.” Bucky looks down at his hands; there’s more to the statement than he’s letting on.

“Chatting with Mr. O’Sullivan is always a good way to pass the time when insomnia strikes.” Bucky looks up at Steve in shock. He’s ready to explain himself but Steve jumps up abruptly out of the pool. “I’ll be right back. Don’t leave.”

In Steve’s haste to stand, he’s soaked most of his dress pants all the way through. He follows the twists and turns of the gardens and seating areas. Natasha sees him approaching the bench she’s sat at with Wanda. She raises her hand to grab his attention but before she can even get his name out of her mouth his jogged past.

“He’s disappeared for nearly an hour, no one could find him, and then he’s just not gonna talk to the rest of us?” Disappointment clouds her features as she sits back down next to Wanda with a plop.

“I’m so excited to talk to him. He’s just got great energy-” Sam’s discussion with Bruce is cut off by Steve skidding into the living room; wet bare feet nearly have him knocked on his ass for the second time tonight. “There’s the man of the hour himself. Can I steal you?”

Sam stands confidently looking rather hopeful; bird costume now discarded. Steve does a double take eyeing him top to bottom. He rests both his hands on the top of Sam’s shoulders before speaking.

“I would love to have a conversation with you. There’s just one thing I have to do first.” With that Steve takes off once more. He sprints to the small side table in the entryway. On the table sits a delicate gold tray holding a single rose. He quickly snatches it before dashing back out to the pool.

“Hey now. You may be more beefed up but I’m certain your probably still capable of cracking your head open. Careful now.” Bucky tuts laughing at the breakneck pace. His laughter is quickly stifled when he sees what’s in Steve's open palm.

“James-”

“It’s Bucky. Everyone close to me calls me Bucky.”

“Bucky… coming into tonight I was terrified. I know that sounds like the typical monologue speech I have to give but I was near ready to toss my cookies out front when the limo first opened. I had no idea what to expect and had convinced myself I’d made a huge mistake putting myself out here.”

Bucky takes a single foot out of the water and tucks it beneath his body to better face Steve. The hand that isn’t holding the rose is fidgeting with a fold of fabric from his pants. Bucky reaches out and plants his palm on top of the blondes ceasing the movement. His thumb strokes small circles onto the back of Steve’s hand; it seems to allow Steve to continue with what he has to say.

“My anxiety was at an all time high and then out you came. Speaking to you tonight has been the first time since agreeing to be the bachelor that I feel like I’m doing something right. I want to thank you for putting me at ease and being your true self.”

“You’re welcome, punk.” The joking nickname sounds more affectionate than insult.

“Bucky, will you accept this rose?”

“I’d be honored.”

Steve untwines his hand to pin the crimson rose to Bucky’s lapel. His hands hesitate once the rose is in place as if debating their next action. There’s a half second pause before Steve gently tugs on Bucky’s tie drawing the brunette into a kiss.

Bucky can’t contain the wide smile despite Steve’s lips still being against his. He breaks the kiss and places a final peck on Steve’s forehead.

“I know this isn’t going to be easy for you. But anytime during this experience you never need to doubt who I am with you. I’m here to get to know you, support you, and hopefully fall in love with you. I’m with you ‘til the end of the line.”

[ofsinnersandsaints]

nothing warmer than ‘i love you’

rating: M word count: 2424 one shot

AO3

Frank tells Karen he loves her for the first time

Karen came out of the shower with her hair still wet, wearing a black shirt which barely hit her mid-thigh.

Frank smiled when he saw it, remembered when she’d first brought it home and she’d been nearly giddy with laughter. She’d been walking home when she’d seen the vendor selling the black shirts with white skulls on them: Punisher merchandise.

Naturally, he couldn’t wear it, but Karen got to wearing it around the house and the first time he’d seen his mark on her chest he’d fucked her on the living room floor until the neighbors complained about the noise. He wasn’t overcome with lust just now, but it always made him smile to see her wear it.

“You’re cooking?”

“I figured it was better than letting you near the stove,” he teased. “For someone who worked at a diner for years, I’d think you’d be better be at it.”

“There was a reason I took orders,” she quipped back, pulling herself up on the counter. “I never forgot a face or an order. Foggy wants to know if you’re coming this weekend.”

Frank paused, knowing Karen had intentionally made the last comment sound casual to avoid pressuring him, but he also knew how much his answer meant to her. “Do I have to go?”

Her expression didn’t change at all but he thought he saw her eyes dim a little as she picked up one the peppers intended for the stir fry. “Of course not, I just… He’s trying, Frank, and that means a lot to me.”

Foggy was getting married and his engagement party was going to be a bash held at Josie’s-which proved just how much his fiancée love him. Karen was the best man and Foggy had told her she was more than welcome to bring her boyfriend.

When Karen had asked if he wanted to come Frank had been evasive; Foggy was hardly Frank’s biggest fan, even if he’d often been Frank’s biggest advocates. Franklin Nelson might have kicked ass as his attorney, but Frank knew the lawyer had to be dragged to the case kicking and screaming.

But that had been his reputation on the line, and now it was his friendship with Karen, which Frank knew was probably more important to Foggy than his job.

And Karen was more important to him than anything. He couldn’t very well tell her no, could he? “I’ll come.”

Her smile was bright and warm as she leaned forward to kiss him. “Thank you.”

He’d do just about anything to keep that smile on her face. “Is he going to remember to call me Pete?”

“Absolutely not,” Karen laughed, taking two more peppers and eating them like popcorn. “He’ll probably introduce you as ‘Karen’s guy’ to everyone he meets to avoid saying the wrong name.”

Frank laughed, “I’ve been called worse.”

“Cute.”

He took the pepper out of her hand, the fourth one she was trying to eat from the cutting board. “If you eat all the veggies there’s not going to be any left for dinner. Are going to head back to work tonight?”

Going back to the office after six pm wasn’t anything new because she tended to work herself to exhaustion and he didn’t try to stop her, she was a big kid and could make her own decisions, he just made sure she was fed and slept at least six hours.

Which was why he was cooking veggies and meat and not ordering take out for the third time this week.

“No, Ellison said if I came back to the office this weekend he’d fire me.” She leaned forward to try and steal a piece of steak but he swatted her hand away. “God, this smells good.”

“I thought he threatened to fire you yesterday.”

“He threatens to fire me everyday,” she clarified. “Some days he means it and some days he doesn’t. I think this time he might have meant it so I’m yours for the rest of the weekend.”

Frank glanced at the clock above the stove. “All six hours of it?”

She smiled and shrugged. “Have you gotten any more information from Dinah about the trip?”

Dinah had done some masterwork of bureaucratic nonsense and gotten him a kind of freelance job with Homeland. On occasion she would call him up for help; Frank told Karen it was basically SWAT work, and it mostly the truth. Since the foundation of their relationship was built on the fact that he always told her the truth, he didn’t lie to her about what he was doing, but he did downplay the danger involved.

And he was pretty sure she knew that. “We leave on Tuesday morning, should be back within 24 hours.”

“You’ll call me?”

Frank stood in front of her, keeping his gaze level on hers so she would see he was being honest. “As often as possible.”

“Is it weird that I hate you being in danger far away more than when you’re close by?”

He hated it too, and the more time he spent with Karen at his side, the less he liked leaving it. Hell, it had been almost a month since he’d gotten himself in any kind of serious scrape. “Maybe it’s because I’m too far away to yell at.”

She loosely wrapped her arms around his neck, “It is more fun scolding you to your face.”

Frank leaned forward and kissed her, nothing rush or hurried, because they had all the time in the world. He enjoyed these quiet moments when the rest of the world was held at bay, and even the violence which had brought them together couldn’t touch them. “You remember Schoonover?”

Karen snorted, “I think I remember him, yeah. Why?”

“Well, I think we can both agree he’s an asshole.”

“Was an asshole,” she reminded him with a sharp look which was a fraction of the anger she’d had that night in the woods. “What about him?”

“He may have been a terrible person, but he did say something to me that stuck back in the day. That our job was stressful, and heavy, and that everyone needed a chair.”

“A chair?” she asked with a tilt of her head.

Frank nodded, “A place to sit down, to set down your worries and destress from the job. For some people it’s scotch, or a book, or the boxing ring. You know what I figured out when you came in here just now?”

“That I need matching Punisher sweats to go with my shirt?”

“No,” he answered, wondering at the calmness in his chest. Awed by it. “I figured out you’re my chair.”

Her smile was small, but warm and soft so it filled him from the inside out. “That might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“Give me a second, and I’ll do you one better,” he promised. “I’m in love with you, Karen Page. And I figured I should tell you at some point because it doesn’t look like it’s going anywhere anytime soon.”

Karen’s eyes went wide, her mouth falling open just a little at the confession and then her lips curved into the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She reached out and ran a thumb over his cheek, “I love you, too.”

Overwhelmed because he didn’t think he’d ever get a chance to have this again Frank kissed her, this time with more than just the moment in mind. He buried his hands in her hair, enjoyed the feeling of the damp silk threading through his fingers.

She kissed him back with a littler more desperation, a little more want, and clutched at his shoulders. “Take me to bed, Frank.”

He didn’t need to be asked twice, he tugged on her ankle and getting the hint, she hooked her legs around his waist and he carried her from the kitchen to the bedroom, to the place they’d slept and loved each other every night for the past few months.

Technically he still kept a place in another part of the Kitchen but it was more safe house than anything else at this point.

This was home.

With her.

He laid her down on the comforter and kept on kissing her because he had hours until either of them needed to be anywhere. She reached up and tugged off his shirt, her fingers tracing old scars and new tattoos. Frank had always felt like a brute, but she always managed to make him feel like something else, something he didn’t have a word for.

Maybe it was loved.

He reluctantly stripped of her shirt, and happily tossed her underwear to the side so he access to all the smooth skin beneath. When he kicked off his sweats settled on top on her, the feel of her skin against his was a familiar feeling but it still got him going every damn time.

He wanted to remember everything about this moment, how nothing was rushed or frantic between them. This was not the time for rough hands or dirty talk, instead it was all soft touches and easy sighs as they loved each other.

He kissed her on the mouth, the cheek, the lovely length of her neck and down her body to crest her over that first climax with lips and tongue. She said his name a benediction, her fists clenched in the pretty pastel comforter that always slid around on the bed while they slept.

Frank felt her peak and sigh, her body going liquid beneath his hands.

When one of their phones rang they both ignored the sound, preferring instead to stay wrapped in each other.

She guided him with soft sounds and sharp breaths and he followed the road map she created for him, enjoying every inch of the journey. When he was done tasting the heat of her he rose up above her, looking down at her. Her hair was going to dry in a mess and she was going to complain about it later, but loved how she looked just now in that moment.

“Say it again,” Frank asked as he settled between her thighs.

“I love you,” she whispered, her hands touching every inch of him she could reach. “I love you.”

“I never thought I’d get so lucky,” he confessed as worked through them both up towards a quiet and easy pleasure with hands and teeth and pressure.

“It’s not luck,” Karen assured him as she ran her hand down the back of his neck, pressing her lips to his jaw and throat. “We deserve this, Frank. We earned it.”

And he couldn’t argue with that.

They’d fought to be where they were; they’d both clawed their way out of darkness and despair, fighting against guilt and depression.

Falling in love hadn’t been luck, and it certainly hadn’t been easy.

In fact, Frank thought as Karen slid over that second climax, falling in love had been the hardest thing for either of them to do.

She dug her heels into the mattress as she arched against him, fingers digging into the muscles of his back and he wanted to give her as much as she’d given him. He wanted to kiss her for every scar she’d healed, for every reason he’d had to smile in the past few years.

For the rest of his life he wanted to make sure she was happy, protected, and loved.

Frank didn’t want there every to be a moment where Karen wondered if she was wanted, if she was needed, because she was everything to him.

Wild, reckless, curious, dangerous Karen Page.

His Karen Page.

Just as he was hers.

He could feel his own orgasm building at the base of his spine, could feel his own control slipping and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep himself in check.

“Hold on to me,” he whispered as he wrapped her close.

She did as he asked, wrapping her legs around his body, her arms around his neck, and when he spent himself inside it was a different kind of release than he’d ever experienced before.

Karen was pressing her lips to his as he came too, and spoke to him between kisses. “We forgot to turn the stove off. I think dinner’s ruined.”

“Fuck,” Frank answered, more out of a knee jerk response than any actual anger. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be angry again. “Guess you’re going to have to make dinner tonight.”

She grinned. “Then I’m definitely making Thai food.”

“I’ll get your phone.”

But she didn’t let him go so he could get up, instead she held on tighter. “It can wait, Frank. I want to hold onto this a little bit longer.”

He brushed a hand down her back. “It’s not going anywhere, Karen. I’m not going anywhere. And the smoke detector’s going to start screaming in a second.”

With a reluctant sigh she let him go and he got up to turn off the stove, then picked up their phones to see who had called-her phone didn’t show any missed calls but his did.

“That’s not a good look,” Karen commented as he came into the bedroom. “Who called?”

“Matt.”

Her brows furrowed. After coming back from the dead Matt had been distant at best, and Karen still hadn’t quite forgiven him all the way for lying to her again. And because he was on Karen’s side first and foremost, he hadn’t quite forgiven Red either. “Did he call me or you?”

“Me,” he pulled up the message and read the voicemail Matt had left. “He needs my help.”

“Tonight?”

“Now.”

She took a deep breath and reached for her shirt, pulling it on as she walked towards him. “Okay.”

Frank looked up at her, surprised. “That’s it?”

“What do you want me to say? If Matt called you for help, he needs help.”

“Okay.” He turned and went to the closet, pulling down his gear as Karen texted Matt back saying he was on his way. “I’ll call you as soon as I know more about what’s going on.”

“I love having the exclusive,” she teased as she handed him his phone back and it almost made him smile because they were now both wearing his signature white skull. “Be safe.”

“Of course.” He framed her face and kissed her. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And off to the darkness he went, carrying a piece of the light with him.

Karen loved him.

[prettywordsyouleft]

Identity

Summary: You had been an angel since your creation. When you fell in love with Jinyoung, a demon, you hadn’t thought it would be that hard to follow him wherever he went – even to the fiery depths of Hell. Becoming one of the Fallen was much different than you had expected, and finding who you were now was important.

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x reader

Genre: demon au / fluff(ish)

A/N: requested by anon. I found your request fitted in well with the happenings of my demon world I already had created, so this is a follow up to Sacrifice, Jinyoung’s story in the King of Demons series. Although this idea isn’t as dark as perhaps you were looking for anon, I hope you enjoy it all the same.

This story belongs in the King of Demons realm and you can find the stories in this series here

King of Demons series: Havoc // King of Demons // Unfathomable // Sacrifice // King of Demons: The Return // In The Night // Identity // Prophecy // Someone // The Devil Contained // The Monsters Witch

Word count: 1860

Your fall from piety had taken a lot more to get used to than you thought it would. It wasn’t just the difference in temperature, although the heat had definitely been a little burdensome in the beginning. You were an angel who had fallen in love with a demon. And even though Jinyoung had done everything in his power, even going as far to erase your memory of him, to keep you as the beautiful angel you had been, your heart belonged to him. You were prepared to give up everything for him, and when the time came for Jinyoung to return to his homeland, you hadn’t second-guessed the sacrifice you would need to give in order to follow him.

“I don’t want you to lose your wings like I did, it’s not easy, Y/N,” he warned you, yet he held you close in his arms, his body not wanting to let you go like his words were attempting to. “You have always been an angel; it was what you were created to be.”

“As were you.”

Jinyoung chuckled softly. “No darling, I was always suited to be a demon. I like the fires, the warmth of Hell. You have no idea what you’re stepping into if you follow me. You can’t take it back. The Heavens will brand you a traitor and you will be banished to Sheol for the rest of your existence.”

“I’m already a traitor for not giving the Gods the information on you, am I not?”

“Yes, but-”

“Jinyoung, I can’t lose you. Fallen angel or not, if I have you at my side, I can do anything.”

Your confidence waned when you actually became one of the Fallen. Jinyoung had been right, your identity was an Angel of Truth, and whilst you still felt the same person within, there was something inherently missing from you now. In Hell, you had no role, no place which was made for just you. Of course, you had been very welcomed. As the Prince of Sheol, Jinyoung had announced you as his bride and everyone accepted you as that. You knew some of the entities there already and you weren’t ever lonely. But you didn’t have an identity passed what Jinyoung had given you. You didn’t want to just spend your life following him around, smiling now and then and being a puppet bride. It wasn’t what you wanted for yourself. You craved something of your own.

“You know you can do anything right? I’ll support whatever you want to do,” Jinyoung told you one night, your unspoken worries easily reaching his mind. He knew you too well despite your love existing for only a mere year so far. “You are capable of so much, Y/N. Just say the word, and I’ll make it happen.”

“Can’t I earn my place instead?” you asked and Jinyoung blinked. “I know I’m your bride and since you’re the Prince of Sheol, I don’t really have to do anything, but I’d like to. I want to help make this place better and remain as fair as you envision it to be. This is my home now too.”

“Do you want me to help you find a position then?”

You shook your head adamantly. “Let me try for myself.”

The very next day, you approached Jackson at Purgatory, smiling brightly up at him. “Y/N! What do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“Can I work here today? I’m looking to find my place,” you told him and the demon frowned.

“In Purgatory… you want to work here?”

You nodded. “Of course! I want to learn all about Sheol and its jurisdictions.”

“It’s not an easy job, there’s a lot of suffering that happens here. We have to make sure every entity is trialled fairly. There are a lot of steps in where you decide to place someone. Sometimes they stay here, others will move onto Silence or Torment depending on their sins. Are you sure someone as sweet as you could handle this type of work?”

“At least let me try,” you pleaded and with a sigh, Jackson nodded.

Jackson had been right in his warning. Initially, you had taken on his advice, walking alongside him as he scanned the area slowly. There were so many people and they were all doing so many different things. You admired his ability to know what everyone was doing, yelling out in the middle of his explanations at specific people to get back in line. It was impressive and you aspired to match his tenacity.

But you just weren’t cut out for the work. “Y/N, you’re an Angel of Truth. Yet you didn’t pick up that man was lying through his teeth. He pulled at your heartstrings.”

“I was an angel,” you correctly softly, your mood plummeting. You had known the man wasn’t telling you everything, yet his tears had rendered you speechless. You wanted to help him out and that was why you almost passed him until Jackson grabbed him by the collar, smiled wickedly and said to an official to take him off to Silence. You didn’t have the heart to be firm when you were struggling in your current weakened state. Thanking Jackson for his time, you trudged back to your chambers where you slumped down into a chair heavily.

“What’s wrong?” Jinyoung asked, looking up from his papers he was reviewing. Jaebum and Jinyoung had just spent two days strategising for a new district in Sheol to help lessen some of the volume of inhabitants there were in other areas. You knew he was busy and tried to smile at him instead. He didn’t buy it, merely rearranged his glasses on his face. “Baby, I worked alongside you for months on end, I know that face well. Did you not have a good time in Purgatory?”

“I almost passed someone because they played on my good will.”

“You are too kind-hearted for that line of work,” he mentioned pointedly. His words held no comfort, but you knew Jinyoung to be logical when giving advice. “Have you thought about talking with Demi? She works in running messengers around Sheol. That could be fun for you.”

You perked up. “I’ll go talk to her tomorrow!”

Again, much like with Jackson, you had given it your best. But what Demi had in skill as a half-demon, you lacked now that you had lost your powers along with your wings. You weren’t fast enough and a goblin managed to pass on your message to your client before you could. You then tried with BamBam, Sheol’s gatekeeper, but you opened the wrong gate and let out a rampage of wild ogres that took two days to finally put back where they belonged. Youngjae had invited you to help him look after all the creatures of Sheol. As an animal lover, you had thought you finally found your calling. You didn’t want to be judgmental as you had been taught to find beauty in everything, yet you had been entirely frightened by a monster he named Smoosh, that had far too many eyes and leapt at you in a menacing way. You were too scared to close your eyes that night in case you had nightmares. Finally, you had broken one of Yugyeom’s trinkets in a vision that he had before you could even start working for him, and so Mal had to tell you to leave before Yugyeom had another rage about it. With Jaebum’s lover away on Earth, her role wasn’t even open to learn from, and Mark was Jaebum’s right-hand man. You were out of options, and your heart hurt.

“Baby, did you do this?” Jinyoung asked that evening, and you didn’t even look up from the chair you slouched upon, not wanting to be scolded for cleaning up his study when he was out. Glaring at the wall in front of you, you remained unmoving. Your husband stepped into your view and held up a file. “Did you organise this?”

“Scold me if you want to, I’m too tired to care.”

“Why would I scold you? This is excellent!”

You glanced up at him and sat straight in your chair. “…it is?”

“I didn’t realise how badly the organisation was of my files. This makes everything so clean and accessible. Thank you!”

“I did something right?” you wondered and Jinyoung nodded, soon smiling sheepishly. “What?”

“You wouldn’t hate doing the other files, would you?” You shook your head quickly, jumping out of your chair. Jinyoung chuckled and held out an arm to prevent you from leaving the room. “Tomorrow, there’s no rush.”

It started with reorganising his files in the cabinet, and then you moved onto the land surveys. After that was the ancient texts, and you had spent a lot of time reading as well as cleaning. Soon you were knowledgeable about the past and present of Hell. Jaebum had been impressed over dinner when you mentioned about a pocket of land free for use that you had seen on a map earlier in the day, and Jinyoung beamed at you proudly.

“Tomorrow, you don’t have to work in my study anymore,” he told you as you got ready for bed. You glanced up at Jinyoung, a pout forming on your lips. He smiled warmly, reaching over to pluck your pout away. “You have an official position now. My brother was really impressed tonight.”

“He was?”

Jinyoung nodded. “He wants you to work in my office. Do you think you can handle that? I know you wanted to find your own identity without my help, but I think you found your calling. As a strategist, I know you could benefit my plans greatly.”

“We used to work together up in Heaven,” you said slowly, thinking over what he said. “I never had a problem doing so either.”

“So why did you shun away from me when you got here?” he wondered and you let out a heavy breath. “Was I too much in the beginning?”

“You knew who you were. You had your place here set in stone, and everyone didn’t second-guess it. I was a newcomer and I had nothing to me but my name.”

Jinyoung stopped unbuttoning his shirt and cupped your face within his hands. “You have always had more than just your name. I’m sorry I needlessly worried you when I told you losing your wings would be hard. I didn’t fall in love with you because you were an angel though. Just like none of our friends here see you as incapable because you weren’t created for this realm. You had your abilities all along. Why do you think I loved working with you up in Heaven? Youngjae was absolutely useless most days, you kept us running efficiently. It’s something I love about you.”

“Okay, stop there or I’ll start crying,” you warned and you felt his chest vibrate with laughter as he pulled you into an embrace. “I needed to find myself again.”

“You did. And have you?”

“All thanks to you,” you told him and Jinyoung pulled back, shaking his head.

“It was all you.”

_________________

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[sian22redux]

Field of Dreams

Here we go!  No 2 in the fics I owe @nomadicpixel and @theycallmebecca.  Nomad asked for Steve and a relationship that is new and my brain said how about a little enemies to lovers everyone?  Not to worry it all works out in spectacularly happy fashion--but before that Y/N has a PR disaster to sort out and really, he’s a hard guy to forget, even if he is a little stubborn about Brooklyn. ^_^   

Part 1 of 2.  And obviously the tweets I’ve made and embedded here are not real, do not belong to any real account.  

---------

“Y/N have you seen this?”

Your harried Media VP, Stephanie, uncharacteristically dressed in a rumpled suit and no make-up, barges into your office, trailed by your harried looking PA.  It’s 7 am, mid-morning in LA, and you are jet-lagged; bleary eyed and something that passes for awake after two precious weeks at your New York research labs.  They were heaven, but now it’s back to routine, back to the long days that keep Fleur in Bloomberg’s list of Ones to Watch.

“What is it?” you ask, setting your latte down and rising to your feet just as the pair screech to a halt just before your desk.

From the look of things ‘routine’ will not be today’s best adjective.  Steph, a night-owl through and through, is never here this early.  Her face is flushed and her eyes red as she waves a piece of paper covered with a screen print in your direction.   “It’s a mess is what it is.  And how you should respond I have no idea.”      

No idea?

 Steph can finagle her way out of PR jams that reduce grown men to tears.  “Respond to what?”  With a sense of doom you take the paper from her outstretched hand and quickly scan the contents.  

‘Not shoot O’Malley twice?  What the ever-loving hell?!  

Steve Rogers—THE Steve Rogers—finally gets a twitter account and the first tweet he sends six months later trashes the Dodgers baseball team?!

Your Dodgers.  

“Why is he @CapRogers?” you ask, more than a little stunned as Steph looks on.

Her face is pale and her fingers shake.  No coffee yet this morning.  Mary, your brilliantly practical PA, settles on priorities and quickly hands her a steaming cup.  “Captain America was already taken.”

Of course.  It’s his first ever tweet and the one he’s pinned and everyone has already followed him.  No way any soul on Planet Earth has missed this missile. You scan a few of the 50,000 comments. They range from the politely encouraging <welcome Cap!> to the crassly supportive <F*ckin A!> to the downright militant <Get your own team pal>  

Oh god.  What a perfectly shitty time for this.  Fleur’s new board are well pleased that its initial public offering has gone viral but are still a little wary. Six months of thirty-six hour days and you are secure beyond your wildest dreams: number 25 on Forbes’s Top Thirty under Thirty; lauded in all the trade reports for your business acumen; working hard to turn your chemistry degree to more ground-breaking organic lines.  

It’s been tough but satisfying.  

Buying the Los Angeles Dodgers has been your one gift to yourself.  

It has not been without its bumps. A women in Major League Baseball’s old boys club has ruffled feathers amongst the owners and grey-haired stodgy boardrooms around the world.  You’ve heard it all.  The back-biting and the snide sideswipes.  The outright misogyny.  The threatened egos.  What does she think she’s doing?  What does she know about baseball?  Who does she think she is?

Oddly, the one group that hasn’t groused about the change has been the Dodger’s staff.  You’ve kept their pennant chasing front house crew.  Let the manager and coaching staff stay undisturbed.  Got to know the players and their families.  You love them.  And they are beginning to cautiously love you back. The team is your baby and while your instinct is to not let anyone give them stick, some battles aren’t worth taking on.  Especially from a national icon.

“We didn’t move them, perhaps we don’t need to be too direct,” you point out, hopefully passing the paper back.

“No way,” Steph shakes her auburn head.  “You are Fleur and Fleur is you.  It’s too critical a time.  Besides, if you don’t publically speak out the team might take it as a slight and the True Blue sure will.   He’s too visible a figure.  You’ll have to respond and support LA, show that you are in their corner.”

You groan.  She has a point.  TrueBlue are the diehard LA fans--a colourful and vocal lot—southern California through and through, and they are proud to have a woman owner.  You owe it to them.  

Well then.  You smooth your skirt and sit back down again, flip up your Macbook lid, hurriedly type a few pithy lines.  Steph comes around the back of your desk and scans them over your shoulder, bites her lip while reading.  “You sure it’s what you want, the pointed ref…?” but you nod firmly.  She said direct and this is that.

“Ok…”

There’s a satisfying whoosh as it flies out into the Twittersphere.

Two weeks and a lifetime in business later you pause to smooth down your red evening dress, set your shoulders back and stride forward into the barrage of cameras as you reach to shake the President’s outstretched hand.

It is her inaugural formal State Dinner.  Like the rest of your homeland you are pleased and proud she chose Justin Trudeau of Canada to be the first.  He is confident and always on point, a neighbour with an aligned agenda and you incline your head, almost as thrilled to meet him as her.  The handshake is brief. He jokingly asks in French if you will have the Canadien’s hockey game up on your phone as it isn’t even Spring Training yet (he has read his briefing book), and you laugh, saying that Los Angeles is your home now.  The Kings are King.

The resulting laughing group photos are snapped and Steph, you’re certain, will be wildly pleased.  

After half an hour of polite chat with several CEO’s you know, a quiet gong sounds and you, like the other luminaries, search for your seating card along the white expanse of silver and china-decked dinner table.  

Mme. Y/N Y/N is written in gold on elegant white card. Right next to a name that makes your stomach plummet through the floor.

Captain S. Rogers

Of course the White House has invited prominent expat Canadians.  Of course it has invited Americans Justin would like to meet.  

Oh god.  

You reach for your water glass just as the gold lattice chair pulls out.

“Miss Y/N.”  

A pair of inhumanely blue eyes wait for some acknowledgement and you nod, just a fraction, wondering how in the world you will navigate this.  Was it a joke by the President’s Chief of Staff?  Some kind of not so subtle message?  Or, more worrying, a comment that your pointed retort was not officially appreciated?

“Captain.”

The medal-garnished superhuman in a dress Army uniform takes off his cap and sits down.  Blushes faintly.  Runs a hand through perfectly trimmed blond hair and awkwardly clears his throat, making a blandly positive comment about the weather and décor.

The flowers?  Really? Who thought this was a good idea?

You do your best:  asking after the Avengers’ latest escapade, the health of Agent Hawkeye who is known to have been banged up, the adjustment of his friend.  You are CEO of a multinational beauty empire, formal events with strangers go with the turf, and so you are relieved to note the pleased surprise in Captain Rogers’ eyes.  Not everyone supports James Barnes’ parole.  You’d have thought that that will break the ice but as soon as the appetizer plates are whisked away he turns to his left and engages Canada’s Junior Minister for Defense in a discussion about NATO that lasts until dessert.  

What the?          

Beside you, the US Consel for Montreal looks suitably embarrassed, but there is nothing either of you can do. You pound back a few flutes of champagne and another quite good Whiskey Sour as the speeches arrive with coffee and dessert.  By the time the music starts up and the room applauds Justin’s smooth waltz with the President you are ready to make an escape, get something out of this mildly disastrous night by pigeonholing the head of Lauder for a little competitors chat, when a fresh-faced aide with Maple Leaf pin taps your silk-clad shoulder.

“Madame..”

“-oiselle,” you correct automatically.  

“Le Premier-Ministre serait honoré d'avoir une danse. »  

Of course you will.  You rise and follow the young man onto the dance floor, accept Justin’s outstretched hand and proceed spend a delightful ten minutes flirting with one of the handsomer and more chatty leaders in the world.  Thank heaven. As the cameras click you banter back and forth, relieved you took so much time on your wardrobe.  A sleek but stylish chignon. Marcasite studs. Louboutin heels and fall of red silk slashed to just above your knee.  You look good.  Tomorrow’s morning tweet of you both will likely get thousands of views you think, when a low voice comes off from your left.    

“May I cut in?”

“Of course, Captain.” Justin bows and drops your hand and you are swept up into the arms of the last person you thought would dance.

“Captain Rogers?”  My word his chest is broad. You take a deep breath and dare to look up into those eyes.  They look a little pained but hopeful. “Are you---?”

“Apologizing. Yes.” He quickly nods his head.  “Look, I’m new at this.  Never tried the social media thing before and I kinda..forgot..about the bigger repercussions.”

“Evidently.”  You take a breath, watching his brow furrow and quickly thinking of what to say.  “You are of course entitled to your opinion but blanket statements of where things belong are unfair to the players today. As their owner I have a duty to support them.”

“I know.  Look I didn’t mean to be hard on those guys.”  

The blue eyes droop.  He looks abashed and a little like a puppy taking an expected scolding and so you relent, search for something positive to say. “They’ll recover.  If LA is good at anything is it definitely bouncing back, Captain.“  

“Call me Steve.”

“Steve.”  He’s nodding, looking a little more confident. As he leads you (surprisingly smoothly for one so big) around the floor you start to relax a little. Chat about dancing as a lost art.  Admire the cut of his uniform and the straight line of his jaw.  He is, if anything, more handsome up close and personal, although there is just the faintest twinge of anxiety still in his face.  A Man of Out of Time.  Yes..and still adjusting to the world he’s landed in.     

Maybe you could be generous and try an olive branch.

“Brooklyn are still as famous today as they were then,” you say, squeezing the hand that holds onto yours.  The other at your waist is warm.  “The first team to break the colour barrier.  Nine World Series titles.  Cy Young pitchers and All Star MVPS.  You can be proud of all that they did. ”    

A sunshine smile warms his handsome face.  “I am! Of course I am.  Jeez, they were so much a part of our life Buck and I scrimped and saved every penny we could just to get into the nose-bleed seats.  75 cents was lunch for a week. If we couldn’t find it, we listened on the radio. Everyone did.  Young and old, rich and poor.  They played their games on Sundays so that working stiffs like me could go.  It was the only day we had off: a ticket and beer money was a treat.”

You’re seriously starting to enjoy yourself, listening to him reminisce.  This is a veritable soliloquay.  “Ebbet’s might have been shaped like a bandbox but it was a right-handed slugger’s dream.  McPhail was a genius.  Ladies’ Days for ten cents.  Half price if the temps’ got too high.  I miss it so. Hot wood slats and popcorn and warm beer.”

“The best.”  You grew up with baseball too.  The crazy cement white elephant that was The Big O where the Expos played.  Gary Carter and Bill "The Spaceman" Lee.  Hot, steamy summer nights near Montreal’s broad lazy river.  

But you’ve made the switch—LA are your boys now.  

“Dodger stadium is baseball’s beautiful showplace now,” you explain.  “We have tried to honour Brooklyn’s spirit—playing to win always and keeping the park accessible. There is even a pop-up museum to them.”

He stills and you fall just slightly behind the beat.  “A pop-up museum?”

“Yes.  It has old jerseys and ticket stubs and photos of the team.  It will run until the fall.”  

Steve looks far from impressed.  “That’s all? Nothing permanent? No one’s set up a display to stay?”

You stiffen a little in his big hands, beginning to be a little frustrated. “We do own the trademark. There are statues to Jackie Robinson and "P. W." Reese where the Brooklyn Cyclones play today.”

He snorts derisively.  “Heck that’s mnor league.  And Coney Island. Doesn’t count.  Ebbets Field and Flatbush were their heart and that’s all gone. They’re an ugly old apartment complex now.”        

A frustrated silence falls.  Some how you’ve fallen into it again and you can feel your ire rising.  He isn’t the only fan who’s had a team be traded.  Business is business. A team has to have support at the gate or it isn’t sustainable.  Some, like Brooklyn, move to greener pastures.  And some are forced to fold. 

You stop on the edge of the dance floor and pull back, looking him squarely in the face.  There’s a muscle jumping in his cheek and annoyance deepens the french flavour in your accent.  American icon or no, you’ve had enough with his pity party.   

“I miss the Expos just as much as you do Brooklyn.  My team was traded, too.   But I do try to be more balanced about reality.  I don’t go round trashing the Nats or complaining that Washington has no memorial for them.  At least your Dodgers kept their name!”

Steve blinks and a press camera clicks.  

You both drop hands when the music ends and retreat--him to the bar, and you to ladies room.  

Insufferable. Stubborn. (Gorgeous) Man.  

You try to put the experience behind you, get on with work and cheering on your team, but of course the world conspires to interfere.  

LA clinches their pennant run but the photo of you and Captain America looking daggers at each other tops the front page of every newspaper the next day.

[hannahindie]

We’re No Heroes: Chapter 10

Characters: Coulson, Reader, Sam, Dean, Bucky, Steve, Tony, the rest of the gang hanging out in the wings. Word Count: 2,177 Warnings: Language, little bit of angst, Dean being overly protective, Bucky dropping the mic, Coulson being a little bit naive, and the reader putting people in their place. A/N: Welcome to Chapter 10! Things are heating up at Avengers HQ and emotions are high. Crowley seems to have put a damper on things. This was a lot of fun to write, and even though we skipped a week, I hope the wait was worth it. I appreciate your patience, it has been crazy busy around here, and your girl is exhausted. But the story must go on!

Beta’d by @amanda-teaches, she has truly been the driving force behind this whole thing. Thanks, love! I appreciate it very much!

Aesthetic by @atc74, because she’s a sweet angel baby and is far too kind to me. Thanks, doll!

As always, tags are at the bottom. If you’d like to be added, please let me know!

“You just... let him go?”

Y/N looks up from where her hands are fiddling with an empty straw wrapper. “I didn't have much of a choice.”

“You don't know Mr. Hogan that well, if at all. Why did you choose his life over the fate of Earth?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re telling me that if you were about to see someone slit their own throat, you’d be able to just sit idly by and watch? I’m sorry, but in those moments, it’s not really the fate of the world that’s on my mind, okay? I don’t give a shit if you know someone or not. Unbelievable.” She crosses her arms and sits back in her chair, eyes narrowed as she stares at Coulson.

“That’s not necessarily what I meant. We all make spur of the moment decisions-”

“We make spur of the moment decisions every single day. Every case we take, every move we make, determines whether someone lives or dies. Sometimes that includes us. So, don’t try to make me feel better by saying you don’t know what decision you’d make in the moment, because I do. And, I have to live with that every damn day. Never mind what Sam and Dean have been through. I chose Happy’s life over the fate of the world, because, for once, I had the choice.”

“I didn’t mean to offend, I realize a hunter’s life isn’t as black and white as what ours might be.”

“I’d reevaluate what your life looks like, because no one’s life is black and white. You’re naive if you think otherwise. Maybe stupid, but we’ll go with naive since it sounds less harsh.”

“I’m not sure that that’s entirely fair-”

“It’s absolutely fair, Special Agent Coulson,” she spits out his name and he flinches at the harshness of it. “You have your super soldiers and your aliens, and your super secret government agencies, and you act like you can just wrap it all up nice and neat in a little bow. It’s bullshit. Sometimes, the good guys are bad, and the bad guys are forced into it. Sometimes, the people that are supposed to save the world are the ones destroying it, and, sometimes, you have to become a monster to defeat them. You have no idea the evil in this world, the things that have to be sacrificed to keep the world safe. You think you’ve seen monsters,” she leans forward, her palms on the table as she moves to her feet, “but you’ve seen nothing compared to what hunters see every day. So, before you get all high and mighty and judge me for putting the needs of one ahead of the needs of the many, you fucking think about how often I’ve done that before and how much I’ve lost because of it.”

Coulson stares at her for a moment, sitting as far back in his chair as he can without obviously moving. He gives a nearly imperceptible shake of his head when one of the agents standing near the door steps forward, as if to push Y/N back into her seat. After a moment, he gestures to her to sit down. “I apologize if it seems I don’t appreciate the gravity of what you do. I absolutely do, and I can imagine the horrors that you’ve seen. Judging by your family’s extensive involvement with local authorities and the FBI, state police, Homeland Security,” he picks up a folder and flips it open, “the U.S. Fish and Wildlife service, the DMV in multiple states, the Catholic church, the National Park Service, the Food Safety Inspection Service, the USDA… the list goes on, you have all lived a colorful and storied past.”

“You could say that.”

“None of which is or was legal.”

She shrugs, “Depends on who you talk to.”

He laughs, shaking his head, “The priest and nun impersonations are, at best, misdemeanors. Never mind the rest of it. I don't think it depends on who you talk to.”

“We saved your life, didn't we? How many members of law enforcement do you think we’ve saved, protected their towns? It matters who you talk to.”

“We’re jumping ahead. You let Crowley go, what happened next?”

She sighs, folds her arms, and sits down. “The same thing that always happens when a Winchester does something that drastic without consulting with each other.”

“I thought you said you had this, Y/N!”

“I did have it! I didn’t really have a choice, Dean!”

“You didn’t…” he looks to Sam and gestures wildly at her, “she didn’t have a choice! We had him. Normal circumstances, better luck next time, but he’s supposedly in cahoots with some alien whose entire life goal is destroy as much as he can, and you just let him go because he was going to have someone’s throat slit?”

“Dean-”

“No, Sam, don’t come at me for being too hard on her. These aren’t decisions we make on our own. Because, see, when we make a choice, people can die. We don’t choose one person over the world.”

“Oh, that’s a bunch of bullshit! How many times have you two chosen each other over the fate of everyone else, huh? How many times have you started an apocalypse because you didn’t have the heart to stop each other? Or is it because I’m not really one of you? I might be part Winchester, but I didn’t grow up on the road with a daddy that treated me like a soldier, so I’m soft? I was the lucky one, still am, because I still have my mom.”

“That’s not what this is about-”

“The hell it’s not. I’m so sick of you two babying me, or acting like I don’t know what I’m doing. I grew up in the life, just like the two of you. Saving Happy was more than just saving him. You know as well as I do that if I didn’t do what Crowley said, he would have killed Happy, then come after me, and then there would have been God knows how many demons roaming this building. Hell, who knows how many are here now, and you’re wanting to take the time to lecture me?” She turns to walk out, pausing to look over her shoulder, “Maybe I should go home. You obviously don’t think I’m useful here, and Mom could probably use my help. We’re going to have something more in common sooner rather than later.” She leaves, the room quietly watching her as she turns the corner and disappears.

“That could have gone more smoothly, I think.”

“Shut up, Tony.”

“What did she mean about having something else in common?” Dean asks Sam, who shrugs.

“I don’t know, man.”

“It’s her mom.” The quiet voice surprises them both, and they turn to see Bucky leaning against the wall, his arms crossed as he silently watches the scene.

“What are you talking about?”

“Her mom...she’s sick. Barely remembers her own name, most of the time. It’s getting worse.”

“How the hell do you know about any of that?”

“She told me.”

Dean’s fists clench at his sides and he takes a step towards Bucky, “Why would she tell you about any of that and not us?”

“I think this whole situation is a good example as to why. You need to listen more, not just assume she doesn’t know what she’s doing or that she always needs rescued.”

“You know what? Fuck you, RoboCop. You don’t know the first goddamn thing about our family or what we do.”

“That’s enough!” Both men turn to Sam, who’s shaking his head. “Dean, not that this is really the time, but I think he’s right.”

“Fine, I’ll go talk to her.” Dean turns to leave but Bucky stops him.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh, you don’t think it’s a good idea?” Dean chuckles, then looks back at Sam, “He doesn’t think it’s a good idea.” Before anyone can stop him, Dean punches Bucky in the face, catching the ex-assassin off guard and knocking him to the ground. Steve moves to go after Dean, but Tony puts his arm out and shakes his head. Bucky stands up with a groan, a hand to his jaw, but says nothing to the eldest Winchester.

“Dean, that’s enough. He’s right, it’s a bad idea. I’ll go talk to her, just...stay here. Try not to punch another super soldier, huh?”

“Whatever.” Sam gives his brother the look he reserves for the times he really means it, and Dean throws his hands up. “I promise, okay? We’ll try to come up with a way to stop our favorite leprechaun.”

Before Sam can walk away, Bucky stops him.

“Hey, this uh...this might help.” He reaches into his jacket for the poster he’d hidden there before and Sam looks at him, confused. “She’ll be able to explain it better than me.” Sam takes it and gives him a smile.

“Thanks...I think. I’ll be back, hopefully with Y/N.”

Bucky gives him a curt nod, then walks the opposite direction towards his room. Dean sits down and watches Sam disappear in the direction Y/N had gone, then looks at Tony.

“Well, Professor, you got any ideas?”

“Hey.”

Y/N looks over her shoulder to see Sam walking towards her, then looks back out the window, “Hey.”

“Listen, I'm sorry if we treat you like a kid.”

“Jumping straight to the point, are we?” Sam sighs but remains silent, and she turns to face him. “I'm sorry, I'm just frustrated.”

“I get it, Dean and I used to go in circles about the same kinds of things. God, the fights we used to get in.”

“Then why are you doing the same thing to me?”

Sam looks down at his hands before continuing, “Because I never knew how Dean felt before.” He looks back up, his brows furrowed, “I worry about Dean, always have, but, I never understood how he felt, being the older brother. It used to make me so angry, and then we met you...and I suddenly got it. Whatever I feel about Dean, double it for you. And multiply whatever I feel by five, and you've got Dean. We aren't doing it because we don't trust you, or think you don't know what you're doing. It's because we’re terrified of losing you.”

“There are better ways to show your love, you know, rather than make asses of yourselves.”

Sam chuckles, “Yea, but we wouldn't be Winchesters if we weren't being asses.” He holds out the rolled up poster, and Y/N gently takes it from him, “Bucky told me to give this to you, said you'd be able to explain it better than he could.”

She slips it out of the tube and carefully unfurls it, holding it out to Sam so he can see it.

“Is that...is that Dad and your mom?”

“Yea...Nadine had it. She gave it to me.”

Sam smiles down at the photo, “They look happy.”

“They do.” Y/N stares at the picture, and both of them are silent for a moment. “It wasn't Dad’s choice.”

“What?”

“Not staying with us. He wanted to. I heard them arguing one night, he wanted to bring you to live with us. My mom loved Dad, but she was just too nervous. Winchesters don't really have the best of luck, and she didn't want to put me in the crosshairs. He wanted us all together.”

“She probably had the right idea.” He hands the picture and tube back to her. “What's going on with your mom?”

“How did you know?”

“Bucky mentioned it.” She frowns and Sam holds up a hand. “Don't be mad at him. He's just worried about you.”

“She's got Alzheimer's. It's gotten worse, and she didn't want me to watch.” She sniffs, quickly wiping a tear away. “I feel like a terrible person...because I'm relieved she doesn't want me to see. I ran the first chance I got. And now this.”

“Listen, your mom knows it would be hard on you, and, honestly, it's hard on someone, knowing their loved one is watching them waste away. Despite the circumstances, I'm glad we’re all together.”

She hugs him. “Thanks, Sam. I'm glad, too.” She closes her eyes as his arms wrap around her, and, for a moment, she basks in what it must feel like to have a normal family. “Together…” she mumbles as she pulls away.

“Huh?”

“We’re trying to do this separately. Clearly, us working with Crowley isn't going to work. But, we have the Avengers, and we know where the gate is.”

“Yea…”

“We need to quit working against ourselves and with each other. We need to take the fight to them, so I say we’re going to need to go to plan B.”

“I didn't think we had a plan B.”

“We do now. Come on, we need to talk to everyone. We’re going to Central Park.”

Like what you see? Would you like to see more? Check out my master list HERE. 

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[baba-wolf]

Why ObiYuki > ZenYuki

First of all,this is just my opinion and this rambling will contain spoilers! So now that I have cleared this, let’s get to it cuz this is gonna be LONG

I don’t hate ZenYuki. It’s a decent pairing, they have cute moments and stuff and at first it was my main ship in AnS. But then came ObiYuki and at first I didn’t think any of it. But then chapters came out and as the manga goes forward I feel like there isn’t any contest between obiyuki and zenyuki for me.

I finished rereading the whole manga about a week ago. And my first point about zenyuki is going to be it’s start. That damn kiss. I hate it.

Zen kissed Shirayuki without permission, without confession without anything. Hell, Zen even says he did it without her consent! And if Shirayuki was so in love with Zen and stuff imo, she wouldn’t have reacted the way she did. She was startled, embarrassed, confused etc. And she seeks protection from Obi! 

On that day, she could have rode back with Kiki, Mitsuhide or even Zen if she asked. No, she chose Obi. He was neutral, she felt the safest with him out of all people. Which is huge! And then the almost hand touch. In this chapter so far Shirayuki is stressed cuz of the kiss, then we see she rode with Obi back, he tries to get info out of her what happened, Zen is on prince business and then Obi almost holds Shirayuki’s hand. After the kiss between the male characters Obi a side character gets a moment like this. And then Zen appears, Shirayuki hides behind Obi! She seeks comfort and protection from him. And he understands and helps her. After ZenYuki did that bad kiss we have moments like these with ObiYuki. So yeah, ObiYuki > ZenYuki for me

Little later we have the Tanbarun arc. Which is for me mainly ObiYuki. For me Zen being a prince is bad for ZenYuki. Say what you want but many times Shirayuki has faced prejudice for her connection with Zen, she has to deal with Izana’s mind games which make her uncomfortable, she has to “behave properly” like dance classes and stuff. It’s stress, getting into royal enviroment as just a normal person and living with these things. 

So Shirayuki is sent to Tanbarun and even if Zen wants to go with her he can’t. Obi senses the distress and has his own feelings growing too, so he and Zen have a duel. 

Obi has nothing holding him back. No royal title, nothing. This line does it for me and I don’t think it only stands for the coming arc. Obi will always protect Shirayuki in Zen’s place. If something were to come up like a royal arranged marriage or they were to break up Zen can always count on Obi being by Shirayuki’s side. This is a lifelong promise from Obi.

Then in chapter 20 we have Shirayuki thanking Obi for coming with her to Tanbarun, Mitsuhide picking up that maybe Obi has developed new feelings, Obi complimenting Shirayuki in her dress, her wearing the hair ornament that she got as a present, adjointing rooms scene. You know, lots of stuff for a non canon pairing in just one chapter.

And this arc is just full of important moments like the library scene, the balcony scene. Obi and Shirayuki are together in Tanbarun and the author is just throwing romantic moments at us. If I didn’t know about Zen then ObiYuki sure would look like the main couple. And there wasn’t a confession or a kiss.

Then Shirayuki gets kidnapped and Obi is nuts. He shows a dark side of him. He is really angry, dangerous and has a dark aura around him almost all of the remaining arc. Even when Zen and the others show up and he puts his mask back up you can still see he is tense. He is really affected by the kidnapping and not just cuz this was his duty. He made a promise and on the first chance where he is guarding Shirayuki this mess happens.

And at the end of the arc, we have Shirayuki and Obi talk after she is saved. Obi feels like a failure, he is sad, he won’t listen to her apologies. But Shirayuki still trusts Obi. She wants to go to Tanbarun, her special homeland, with him and this means so much to Obi. It throws him off that someone puts so much faith into him and shows so much kindness towards him after experiencing being kidnapped.

Obi never really got attached to people. In one of the coming chapters Torou who known him in the past mentions this too. Obi was always moving, never staying in one place long. I think that’s why he doesn’t really use names. If he did, it would make things more personal.

But here he is so overwhelmed with affection that he almost says her name. This moment means a lot, I think this is the hight of the whole arc. Throwing Shirayuki and Obi together, showing how they click in their time, how other characters pick up on it, how Obi starts to realize things after the balcony, how he fails and yet how Shirayuki still accepts him and doesn’t push him away. For me this arc was the birth of ObiYuki.

And of course there isn’t a better way to end this beautiful arc with a not so pretty ZenYuki kiss. After witnessing obiyuki sweetness, Zen kisses a sleeping, unconscious girl. Shirayuki may be strong but the events got to her. And here we have Zen, whose first kiss was without consent, again kissing a sleeping Shirayuki. Just no. If he kissed her on the forehead or something it would have worked but for me this way it just deals damage to the pairing.

After the Tanbarun arc comes the Lyrias arc. We get new characters, a new main place in the manga. Jumping a bit forward, a sickness breaks out. And when Obi and Zen appear, who gets to stay and help Shirayuki? No, not the main love interest, the prince charming. It’s Obi who also flirst with Shirayuki in front of Zen and Izana. Real smooth.

After Zen leaving because of his duty and Obi staying with Shirayuki this arc like the last one shows obiyuki together, how they solve the case. Zen is out of the picture, Obi is in the middle of it. The manga isn’t even trying to hide obiyuki. They spend time together, go through this hardship together, work together and understand each other more.

Here Shirayuki saw through Obi’s act. She is touched by his kindness. The way they look at each other is just precious. From Obi okay, but from Shirayuki who is already head over heels in love with Zen I think it means a lot.

After the Lyrias arc we get smaller moments but still important ones. The one in chapter 47 where Obi lightly touches Shirayuki’s hand to support her, Obi finding her after she fell asleep with a fever, waking Obi up, cooking together. Just small moments so we don’t forget that Shirayuki is together with Zen and she doesn’t have a growing other relationship...

Chapter 57-58 are killers. Till these chapters nothing was confirmed. We could, hardly but still, pass these things off as platonic things. Close friendship. But then Shirayuki is sent to Lyrias for 2 years and everyone is shaken a bit. Everyone gets a hug, we get an obiyuki hug and foreshadowing.

This is more important than the hug! Why? Cuz Shirayuki says smiling that she thinks Obi will follow her, that he will be there with her. Not Zen, but Obi who she has spent more time with. Obi is always there with her, watching her. Shirayuki feels that if she goes somewhere Obi will be beside her. This is really beautiful and Obi is surprised too. And luckily, they will meet up in Lyrias a few chapters later.

But not before this.

This is the point where I went to heaven. His smile, his confession are just so beautiful. He admits it to Zen that he likes the girl that his master loves. And that he didn’t want to go be with her for 2 years without Zen knowing his feelings. That’s what I call being fair and honest. Obi respects Zen and his relationship with Shirayuki, he doesn’t want bad feelings between him and Zen. Obi is just too good for this world.

The moment Shirayuki sees Obi her face lits up and she blushes. What she said came true and she feels happy to have Obi by her side.

And chapter 62 is just gold. They talk and Obi asks if it’s okay for him to stay with her. And he is nervous too you can see it. But Shirayuki just says of course and her expression surprises Obi. No wonder.

Try to convince me that this is just meant for a friend. If you say that Shirayuki doesn’t love Obi like she does Zen I can accept that. At this point. But her feelings are growing, her relatopnship developes with Obi. And nobody can deny that.

After chapter 62 it’s mostly adventure time. For me the next big moment is the silent goodbye that they have in chapter 80.

No words are said or needed. They have built a connection. Obi looks back at her and Shirayuki looks strong. She isn’t teary eyed or anything. She is worried sure but her eyes say she expects him to return to her. She from past experiences knows and feels that Obi will come back to her side.

Their reunion will come in chapter 88 which sadly I couldn’t find yet, just the spoilers. But in the spoilers Shirayuki has a warm smile and says welcome back and she meets him first before Zen.

The conclusion.

In my opinion ObiYuki has more development than ZenYuki. Obi and Shirayuki started as strangers then became friends and are growing stronger together while supporting each other. For me zenyuki is still the same charming princes common girl crush on each other. Many times Obi stands by Shirayuki’s side cuz Zen can’t because of his social status. And thinking about it, does Shirayuki want a royal life? If she marries Zen she will be expected a different behaviour, she will have to adjust to a whole different lifestyle. What she has now, working in Lyrias suits her much more than dancing and balls and such. We have seen she can’t dance, doesn’t know sometimes how to properly behave with other nobles and such. I think a royal lifestyle would burden her more than would help her.

I think Shirayuki’s first love is Zen, but that doesn’t mean she can’t fall deeper for someone else. Being liked by a prince as your first time experiencing love is unique and thrilling. But I think what she has is a crush. Despite wanting to be by Zen’s side she spends more time with Obi. I think she is more free with Obi. You see their development in the manga while I can’t really name a big change for Zenyuki. He loves her, she blushes they kiss that’s all. That’s first love. But not the one. Obiyuki feels more developed, natural, comfortable, relatable. The manga puts them together a lot maybe that’s why. But why if they are not the main couple? For bait or for something more? No matter the ending, ObiYuki will be always special for me, more than ZenYuki. Obi and Shirayuki built an amazing relationship no matter the outcame and I will always smile when I see these two dorks together.

[stopkingobama]

VIDEO: Trump gives epic speech in Poland, Fake News freak out

President Trump gave a full-throated defense of American values in a speech in Poland yesterday, and the Fake News media are wetting their pants.

See it for yourself!

MRS. TRUMP:  Hello, Poland!  Thank you very much.  My husband and I have enjoyed visiting your beautiful country.  I want to thank President and Mrs. Duda for the warm welcome and their generous hospitality.  I had the opportunity to visit the Copernicus Science Centre today, and found it not only informative but thoughtful, its mission, which is to inspire people to observe, experiment, ask questions, and seek answers.

I can think of no better purpose for such a wonderful science center.  Thank you to all who were involved in giving us the tour, especially the children who made it such a wonderful experience.

As many of you know, a main focus of my husband’s presidency is safety and security of the American people.  I think all of us can agree people should be able to live their lives without fear, no matter what country they live in.  That is my wish for all of us around the world.  (Applause.)

Thank you again for this wonderful welcome to your very special country.  Your kindness and gracious hospitality will not be forgotten.  (Applause.)

And now it is my honor to introduce to you my husband, the President of the United States, Donald J. Trump.  (Applause.)

PRESIDENT TRUMP:  Thank you very much.  That’s so nice.  The United States has many great diplomats, but there is truly no better ambassador for our country than our beautiful First Lady, Melania.  Thank you, Melania.  That was very nice.  (Applause.)

We’ve come to your nation to deliver a very important message:  America loves Poland, and America loves the Polish people.  (Applause.)  Thank you.

The Poles have not only greatly enriched this region, but Polish-Americans have also greatly enriched the United States, and I was truly proud to have their support in the 2016 election.  (Applause.)

It is a profound honor to stand in this city, by this monument to the Warsaw Uprising, and to address the Polish nation that so many generations have dreamed of:  a Poland that is safe, strong, and free.  (Applause.)

President Duda and your wonderful First Lady, Agata, have welcomed us with the tremendous warmth and kindness for which Poland is known around the world.  Thank you.  (Applause.)  My sincere — and I mean sincerely thank both of them.  And to Prime Minister Syzdlo, a very special thanks also.  (Applause.)

We are also pleased that former President Leck Walesa, so famous for leading the Solidarity Movement, has joined us today, also.  (Applause.)  Thank you.  Thank you.  Thank you.

On behalf of all Americans, let me also thank the entire Polish people for the generosity you have shown in welcoming our soldiers to your country.  These soldiers are not only brave defenders of freedom, but also symbols of America’s commitment to your security and your place in a strong and democratic Europe.

We are proudly joined on stage by American, Polish, British, and Romanian soldiers.  Thank you.  (Applause.)  Thank you.  Great job.

President Duda and I have just come from an incredibly successful meeting with the leaders participating in the Three Seas Initiative.  To the citizens of this great region, America is eager to expand our partnership with you.  We welcome stronger ties of trade and commerce as you grow your economies. And we are committed to securing your access to alternate sources of energy, so Poland and its neighbors are never again held hostage to a single supplier of energy.  (Applause.)

Mr. President, I congratulate you, along with the President of Croatia, on your leadership of this historic Three Seas Initiative.  Thank you.  (Applause.)

This is my first visit to Central Europe as President, and I am thrilled that it could be right here at this magnificent, beautiful piece of land.  It is beautiful.  (Applause.)  Poland is the geographic heart of Europe, but more importantly, in the Polish people, we see the soul of Europe.  Your nation is great because your spirit is great and your spirit is strong.  (Applause.)

For two centuries, Poland suffered constant and brutal attacks.  But while Poland could be invaded and occupied, and its borders even erased from the map, it could never be erased from history or from your hearts.  In those dark days, you have lost your land but you never lost your pride.  (Applause.)

So it is with true admiration that I can say today, that from the farms and villages of your countryside to the cathedrals and squares of your great cities, Poland lives, Poland prospers, and Poland prevails.  (Applause.)

Despite every effort to transform you, oppress you, or destroy you, you endured and overcame.  You are the proud nation of Copernicus — think of that — (applause) — Chopin, Saint John Paul II.  Poland is a land of great heroes.  (Applause.)  And you are a people who know the true value of what you defend.

The triumph of the Polish spirit over centuries of hardship gives us all hope for a future in which good conquers evil, and peace achieves victory over war.

For Americans, Poland has been a symbol of hope since the beginning of our nation.  Polish heroes and American patriots fought side by side in our War of Independence and in many wars that followed.  Our soldiers still serve together today in Afghanistan and Iraq, combatting the enemies of all civilization.

For America’s part, we have never given up on freedom and independence as the right and destiny of the Polish people, and we never, ever will.  (Applause.)

Our two countries share a special bond forged by unique histories and national characters.  It’s a fellowship that exists only among people who have fought and bled and died for freedom.  (Applause.)

The signs of this friendship stand in our nation’s capital.  Just steps from the White House, we’ve raised statues of men with names like Pułaski and Kościuszko.  (Applause.)  The same is true in Warsaw, where street signs carry the name of George Washington, and a monument stands to one of the world’s greatest heroes, Ronald Reagan.  (Applause.)

And so I am here today not just to visit an old ally, but to hold it up as an example for others who seek freedom and who wish to summon the courage and the will to defend our civilization.  (Applause.)  The story of Poland is the story of a people who have never lost hope, who have never been broken, and who have never, ever forgotten who they are.  (Applause)

AUDIENCE:  Donald Trump!  Donald Trump!  Donald Trump!

PRESIDENT TRUMP:  Thank you.  Thank you so much.  Thank you.  Thank you so much.  Such a great honor.  This is a nation more than one thousand years old.  Your borders were erased for more than a century and only restored just one century ago.

In 1920, in the Miracle of Vistula, Poland stopped the Soviet army bent on European conquest.  (Applause.)  Then, 19 years later in 1939, you were invaded yet again, this time by Nazi Germany from the west and the Soviet Union from the east.  That’s trouble.  That’s tough.

Under a double occupation the Polish people endured evils beyond description: the Katyn forest massacre, the occupations, the Holocaust, the Warsaw Ghetto and the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, the destruction of this beautiful capital city, and the deaths of nearly one in five Polish people.  A vibrant Jewish population — the largest in Europe — was reduced to almost nothing after the Nazis systematically murdered millions of Poland’s Jewish citizens, along with countless others, during that brutal occupation.

In the summer of 1944, the Nazi and Soviet armies were preparing for a terrible and bloody battle right here in Warsaw. Amid that hell on earth, the citizens of Poland rose up to defend their homeland.  I am deeply honored to be joined on stage today by veterans and heroes of the Warsaw Uprising.  (Applause.)

AUDIENCE:  (Chanting.)

PRESIDENT TRUMP:  What great spirit.  We salute your noble sacrifice and we pledge to always remember your fight for Poland and for freedom.  Thank you.  Thank you.  (Applause.)

This monument reminds us that more than 150,000 Poles died during that desperate struggle to overthrow oppression. From the other side of the river, the Soviet armed forces stopped and waited.  They watched as the Nazis ruthlessly destroyed the city, viciously murdering men, women, and children.  They tried to destroy this nation forever by shattering its will to survive.

But there is a courage and a strength deep in the Polish character that no one could destroy.  The Polish martyr, Bishop Michael Kozal, said it well:  “More horrifying than a defeat of arms is a collapse of the human spirit.”

Through four decades of communist rule, Poland and the other captive nations of Europe endured a brutal campaign to demolish freedom, your faith, your laws, your history, your identity — indeed the very essence of your culture and your humanity.  Yet, through it all, you never lost that spirit.  (Applause.)  Your oppressors tried to break you, but Poland could not be broken.  (Applause.)

And when the day came on June 2nd, 1979, and one million Poles gathered around Victory Square for their very first mass with their Polish Pope, that day, every communist in Warsaw must have known that their oppressive system would soon come crashing down.  (Applause.)  They must have known it at the exact moment during Pope John Paul II’s sermon when a million Polish men, women, and children suddenly raised their voices in a single prayer.  A million Polish people did not ask for wealth.  They did not ask for privilege.  Instead, one million Poles sang three simple words:  “We Want God.”  (Applause.)

In those words, the Polish people recalled the promise of a better future.  They found new courage to face down their oppressors, and they found the words to declare that Poland would be Poland once again.

As I stand here today before this incredible crowd, this faithful nation, we can still hear those voices that echo through history.  Their message is as true today as ever.  The people of Poland, the people of America, and the people of Europe still cry out “We want God.”  (Applause.)

Together, with Pope John Paul II, the Poles reasserted their identity as a nation devoted to God.  And with that powerful declaration of who you are, you came to understand what to do and how to live.  You stood in solidarity against oppression, against a lawless secret police, against a cruel and wicked system that impoverished your cities and your souls.  And you won.  Poland prevailed.  Poland will always prevail.  (Applause.)

AUDIENCE:  Donald Trump!  Donald Trump!  Donald Trump!

PRESIDENT TRUMP:  Thank you.  You were supported in that victory over communism by a strong alliance of free nations in the West that defied tyranny.  Now, among the most committed members of the NATO Alliance, Poland has resumed its place as a leading nation of a Europe that is strong, whole, and free.

A strong Poland is a blessing to the nations of Europe, and they know that.  A strong Europe is a blessing to the West and to the world.  (Applause.)  One hundred years after the entry of American forces into World War I, the transatlantic bond between the United States and Europe is as strong as ever and maybe, in many ways, even stronger.

This continent no longer confronts the specter of communism.  But today we’re in the West, and we have to say there are dire threats to our security and to our way of life.  You see what’s happening out there.  They are threats.  We will confront them.  We will win.  But they are threats.  (Applause.)

AUDIENCE:  Donald Trump!  Donald Trump!  Donald Trump!

PRESIDENT TRUMP:  We are confronted by another oppressive ideology — one that seeks to export terrorism and extremism all around the globe.  America and Europe have suffered one terror attack after another.  We’re going to get it to stop.  (Applause.)

During a historic gathering in Saudi Arabia, I called on the leaders of more than 50 Muslim nations to join together to drive out this menace which threatens all of humanity.  We must stand united against these shared enemies to strip them of their territory and their funding, and their networks, and any form of ideological support that they may have.  While we will always welcome new citizens who share our values and love our people, our borders will always be closed to terrorism and extremism of any kind.  (Applause.)

AUDIENCE:  Donald Trump!  Donald Trump!  Donald Trump!

PRESIDENT TRUMP:  We are fighting hard against radical Islamic terrorism, and we will prevail.  We cannot accept those who reject our values and who use hatred to justify violence against the innocent.

Today, the West is also confronted by the powers that seek to test our will, undermine our confidence, and challenge our interests.  To meet new forms of aggression, including propaganda, financial crimes, and cyberwarfare, we must adapt our alliance to compete effectively in new ways and on all new battlefields.

We urge Russia to cease its destabilizing activities in Ukraine and elsewhere, and its support for hostile regimes — including Syria and Iran — and to instead join the community of responsible nations in our fight against common enemies and in defense of civilization itself.  (Applause.)

Finally, on both sides of the Atlantic, our citizens are confronted by yet another danger — one firmly within our control.  This danger is invisible to some but familiar to the Poles:  the steady creep of government bureaucracy that drains the vitality and wealth of the people.  The West became great not because of paperwork and regulations but because people were allowed to chase their dreams and pursue their destinies.

Americans, Poles, and the nations of Europe value individual freedom and sovereignty.  We must work together to confront forces, whether they come from inside or out, from the South or the East, that threaten over time to undermine these values and to erase the bonds of culture, faith and tradition that make us who we are.  (Applause.)  If left unchecked, these forces will undermine our courage, sap our spirit, and weaken our will to defend ourselves and our societies.

But just as our adversaries and enemies of the past learned here in Poland, we know that these forces, too, are doomed to fail if we want them to fail.  And we do, indeed, want them to fail.  (Applause.)  They are doomed not only because our alliance is strong, our countries are resilient, and our power is unmatched.  Through all of that, you have to say everything is true.  Our adversaries, however, are doomed because we will never forget who we are.  And if we don’t forget who are, we just can’t be beaten.  Americans will never forget.  The nations of Europe will never forget.  We are the fastest and the greatest community.  There is nothing like our community of nations.  The world has never known anything like our community of nations.

We write symphonies.  We pursue innovation.  We celebrate our ancient heroes, embrace our timeless traditions and customs, and always seek to explore and discover brand-new frontiers.

We reward brilliance.  We strive for excellence, and cherish inspiring works of art that honor God.  We treasure the rule of law and protect the right to free speech and free expression.  (Applause.)

We empower women as pillars of our society and of our success.  We put faith and family, not government and bureaucracy, at the center of our lives.  And we debate everything.  We challenge everything.  We seek to know everything so that we can better know ourselves.  (Applause.)

And above all, we value the dignity of every human life, protect the rights of every person, and share the hope of every soul to live in freedom.  That is who we are.  Those are the priceless ties that bind us together as nations, as allies, and as a civilization.

What we have, what we inherited from our — and you know this better than anybody, and you see it today with this incredible group of people — what we’ve inherited from our ancestors has never existed to this extent before.  And if we fail to preserve it, it will never, ever exist again.  So we cannot fail.

This great community of nations has something else in common:  In every one of them, it is the people, not the powerful, who have always formed the foundation of freedom and the cornerstone of our defense.  The people have been that foundation here in Poland — as they were right here in Warsaw — and they were the foundation from the very, very beginning in America.

Our citizens did not win freedom together, did not survive horrors together, did not face down evil together, only to lose our freedom to a lack of pride and confidence in our values.  We did not and we will not.  We will never back down.  (Applause.)

AUDIENCE:  Donald Trump!  Donald Trump!  Donald Trump!

PRESIDENT TRUMP:  As long as we know our history, we will know how to build our future.  Americans know that a strong alliance of free, sovereign and independent nations is the best defense for our freedoms and for our interests.  That is why my administration has demanded that all members of NATO finally meet their full and fair financial obligation.

As a result of this insistence, billions of dollars more have begun to pour into NATO.  In fact, people are shocked.  But billions and billions of dollars more are coming in from countries that, in my opinion, would not have been paying so quickly.

To those who would criticize our tough stance, I would point out that the United States has demonstrated not merely with words but with its actions that we stand firmly behind Article 5, the mutual defense commitment.  (Applause.)

Words are easy, but actions are what matters.  And for its own protection — and you know this, everybody knows this, everybody has to know this — Europe must do more.  Europe must demonstrate that it believes in its future by investing its money to secure that future.

That is why we applaud Poland for its decision to move forward this week on acquiring from the United States the battle-tested Patriot air and missile defense system — the best anywhere in the world.  (Applause.)  That is also why we salute the Polish people for being one of the NATO countries that has actually achieved the benchmark for investment in our common defense.  Thank you.  Thank you, Poland.  I must tell you, the example you set is truly magnificent, and we applaud Poland.  Thank you.  (Applause.)

We have to remember that our defense is not just a commitment of money, it is a commitment of will.  Because as the Polish experience reminds us, the defense of the West ultimately rests not only on means but also on the will of its people to prevail and be successful and get what you have to have.  The fundamental question of our time is whether the West has the will to survive.  Do we have the confidence in our values to defend them at any cost?  Do we have enough respect for our citizens to protect our borders?  Do we have the desire and the courage to preserve our civilization in the face of those who would subvert and destroy it?  (Applause.)

We can have the largest economies and the most lethal weapons anywhere on Earth, but if we do not have strong families and strong values, then we will be weak and we will not survive.  (Applause.)  If anyone forgets the critical importance of these things, let them come to one country that never has.  Let them come to Poland.  (Applause.)  And let them come here, to Warsaw, and learn the story of the Warsaw Uprising.

When they do, they should learn about Jerusalem Avenue.  In August of 1944, Jerusalem Avenue was one of the main roads running east and west through this city, just as it is today. Control of that road was crucially important to both sides in the battle for Warsaw.  The German military wanted it as their most direct route to move troops and to form a very strong front.  And for the Polish Home Army, the ability to pass north and south across that street was critical to keep the center of the city, and the Uprising itself, from being split apart and destroyed.

Every night, the Poles put up sandbags amid machine gun fire — and it was horrendous fire — to protect a narrow passage across Jerusalem Avenue.  Every day, the enemy forces knocked them down again and again and again.  Then the Poles dug a trench.  Finally, they built a barricade.  And the brave Polish fighters began to flow across Jerusalem Avenue.  That narrow passageway, just a few feet wide, was the fragile link that kept the Uprising alive.

Between its walls, a constant stream of citizens and freedom fighters made their perilous, just perilous, sprints.  They ran across that street, they ran through that street, they ran under that street — all to defend this city.  “The far side was several yards away,” recalled one young Polish woman named Greta.  That mortality and that life was so important to her.  In fact, she said, “The mortally dangerous sector of the street was soaked in the blood.  It was the blood of messengers, liaison girls, and couriers.”

Nazi snipers shot at anybody who crossed.  Anybody who crossed, they were being shot at.  Their soldiers burned every building on the street, and they used the Poles as human shields for their tanks in their effort to capture Jerusalem Avenue.  The enemy never ceased its relentless assault on that small outpost of civilization.  And the Poles never ceased its defense.

The Jerusalem Avenue passage required constant protection, repair, and reinforcement, but the will of its defenders did not waver, even in the face of death.  And to the last days of the Uprising, the fragile crossing never, ever failed.  It was never, ever forgotten.  It was kept open by the Polish people.

The memories of those who perished in the Warsaw Uprising cry out across the decades, and few are clearer than the memories of those who died to build and defend the Jerusalem Avenue crossing.  Those heroes remind us that the West was saved with the blood of patriots; that each generation must rise up and play their part in its defense — (applause) — and that every foot of ground, and every last inch of civilization, is worth defending with your life.

Our own fight for the West does not begin on the battlefield — it begins with our minds, our wills, and our souls.  Today, the ties that unite our civilization are no less vital, and demand no less defense, than that bare shred of land on which the hope of Poland once totally rested.  Our freedom, our civilization, and our survival depend on these bonds of history, culture, and memory.

And today as ever, Poland is in our heart, and its people are in that fight.  (Applause.)  Just as Poland could not be broken, I declare today for the world to hear that the West will never, ever be broken.  Our values will prevail.  Our people will thrive.  And our civilization will triumph.  (Applause.)

AUDIENCE:  Donald Trump!  Donald Trump!  Donald Trump!

PRESIDENT TRUMP:  Thank you.  So, together, let us all fight like the Poles — for family, for freedom, for country, and for God.

Thank you.  God Bless You.  God bless the Polish people.  God bless our allies.  And God bless the United States of America.

Thank you.  God bless you.  Thank you very much.  (Applause.)

[unchivalrousnovel]

The Songbird and the Raven

A/N: What is this? Well, it’s a short story (approx. 4k words) I wrote for a fantasy setting my sister had created - so it’s not at all related to Unchivalrous, but it was nice to write some different characters while waiting for responses from my beta readers. It’s pretty standard fantasy, only the elves are different. They’re plant-people, basically. Enjoy. When I finish the next short story (2k words so far) that’s going up here too. 

Elves sing. They just can’t help it. They sing the way birds do: Simply because it is their nature. If one begins a song, others chime in with humming, chirping, whistling, trills, not even necessarily knowing why. Singing happens to them like a shower of rain happens to the rest of us, and the songs echo through the woods of Drakenheim.

Even the Vesselwood in which no elves lived.  

"Hum dum ha and a talla-li-la, down the road I go. Hum dum ha and a talla-li-lee, rain or shine or snow..."

Alone and far from her homeland, this particular elf sung to herself as her wagon jostled through the woods. She held the reins lightly, letting an enormous buck set the pace. This was no wild land: She drove on a well-trodden road past birches and berries, no ancient oaks – no matter. Each time she drew a deep breath at the end of a stanza, she seemed to delight in the fragrant spring air as if she could taste the sunlight. Her frizzy, strawberry-blonde curls framed a perfect oval face crowned with ostrya leaves. As all elves she was part flesh and part twining plants, melding into whatever sort of nature surrounded her. The young man crouching in the bushes a little further down the road was not looking at her, though. He was concerned with the boxes, crates and chests on her wagon and what they might contain. The pattern of runes along the edge of his tunic revealed him to be a mage, but the pouches hanging from his belt were empty, and he had neither staff nor wand. He just rubbed his hands, peered out through the red leaves and waited. Occasionally, he blew a strand of dark hair out of his face.

“Hum-dum-ha and a talla-li-la, and meet in mist and dust, Hum-dum-ha and a talli-li-lee, my old friend wanderlust…“

The elf paused her song. Her ears twitched. She smelled something on the breeze – human male rot herbs sweating earth wool – and at this moment, the mage broke out of his hiding place, cracking branches and trampling flowers underfoot. He held up his hands, one closed as if around a reagent, the other outstretched. She pulled the reins back, and the buck reared to a halt. A sign - Real Elven Potions & More! - clattered on the side of the wagon. “Nice song,” the mage said. His hand shook, but his voice was a practiced sort of steady. “A fireball sure would interrupt it.”

“I know many more melodies like this one,” the elf said. “Would you like to cease your threats and listen?” Her face held an expression of ease and simple peace that could be mistaken for naivete, were it not common knowledge that elves are rarely naïve, theirs being the laws of rabbits and foxes. The mage, knowing this, did not lower his outstretched hands. He gazed past the woman and to the crates she had stacked up on her wagon, some of which were outfitted with drawers or wrapped with brown paper. Class clinked in an open crate as the buck took a nervous step back. Potions. One of them began to levitate. “My wagon is full of medicine,” the elf said. “Just medicine. I am but a poor peddler.” “Then… Um… How much is your medicine worth? Your life? Let me go through those coffers, and you can pass on unharmed.” He sounded strained, like it was getting harder for him to speak up.   “Ach, we won’t need to do that.” She smiled, showing no teeth. Her lips were the color of ripe strawberries, her skin like unripe gooseberries, and the mage quite pale in comparison. “How about this - fireballs burn not only you, but the trees, too. You’re an elf. Are you gonna let that happen?” She wasn’t even meeting his eyes. She was looking at his feet, not tense at all, her hands open on her lap… “Well, dear – speaking of these woods, you’ve stepped in chokevine. Did it prick you?” She tilted her head. “If you feel any kind of burning sensation, it is already spreading to your throat. It’s a very unpleasant thing, I’ve heard.” The mage scratched at his throat. It was feeling rather tight… The levitating potion slowly lowered itself back into the crate, clinking against the others as if nervously trembling. “Then comes the breathing trouble,” the elf cheerfully continued. He coughed. “And then you start to choke until you black out and die.”

***

The elf talked to herself as the wagon bumbled on towards what she hoped would be shelter for the night. Talking to oneself is not a particularly elven trait – it was just something she did to dredge from her long memory the various names and cures she knew for chokevine. “Quail’s egg boiled in lavender water on a new moon, Ifatoxhysis juvenila mushrooms, a potion of newt’s eye and holyreed…” In the back of her wagon, the mage groaned in pain, washing up on the shore of an airless dark. He opened his eyes and stared into a stained rag that smelled of fish-guts. A rope had been tied around his hands. A pounding headache kept magic out of the question and words only barely within his grasp. “I didn’t ever really mean to fireball you,” he said. “You must’ve seen my hands were empty. No bat guano.” He scoffed. “Got nothing. All out of reagents. And, uh, juice in general. That’s why I thought you might have some… I don’t know. Leaves or something. Cobber string, guano, crushed flowers. Mana potions.” “You could have just asked me instead of trying to hold me up,” the elf replied, sounding rather too cheerful. ”I like to get gold. I like to make deals.” “I haven’t any gold,” the mage groaned. “Well, why in the name of the Gods are you on the road without the bare necessities?!” “That’s… none of your business.” “You’re on my wagon, which makes it my business. I am doing you a great favor by not dumping you on the wayside to die. It is really too much if I must say so myself.” “So now I owe you?” Rafn said. “Indeed you do. I’m headed to a little town by the sweet name of Eelshire to set up shop at their festival, and we should get there before evening if all goes well. I’ll give you the second dose of antidote there, so behave until then! If need be, there are guards there, too, so I can still turn you in to the authorities.” She said the last word with all the disgust she could muster. The prospect was not thrilling to the mage either. He lay still for a while, waiting. Then, with a sound like a soft sigh, the blindfold untied itself and fell from his face. Seeing the bright green of the trees and the blue sky above, he whispered a quick “Thank you.” One of the elf’s long ears twitched in his direction. “You’re welcome,” she said. “What’s your name, lad?” “Rafn.” He turned his head as much as he dared to catch a glimpse of her. She was leaning back as if she hadn’t a care in the world, holding the reins in one hand and smoking a long silver pipe with the other. She exhaled a cloud of fragrant smoke and said, “Good! Occupation?” Rafn’s throat still itched when he spoke. “Former apprentice. Just a vagrant now, I guess.” “Bad. Goal in life?” “I don’t know. Get by?” “Terrible!” She tapped her pipe against one of her crates. “I’m Esja Skjoldsvisning. You need ambition. Perhaps you deserve the local prison. Sit around for bit, figure out what you wish do with your life.” “I suppose you have it all figured out,” Rafn said, voice thick with sarcasm. “I am a simple woman. I’m on my way to earn a lot of money.” She exhaled again, and the smoke drifted away while Rafn considered his next words carefully. “That… doesn’t sound very elvish.” “My older brother’s a forestfather; one of those who have become almost a living tree, and he’s quite busy overseeing our northern woods. Maybe he got all the elfishness and I got – wait. Bones of the Stonegod, we’ve no time for backstories! How in all hells did you get your blindfold off?!” Esja turned around, and the wagon went into and out of every hole in the road, breaking branches under the wheels while she completely ignored her buck and everything in front of it. She blew smoke towards Rafn, who coughed and shifted uncomfortably with each bump. ”I thought you were out of reagents,” she said. “Something’s up. Something’s wrong. Heed my words, little raven – do not do anything you’ll regret!” “I…” Rafn rolled onto his side and stared at the road. He’d not eaten for hours and had gone sleepless for twice as long. Now, he was at least going in the right direction, further and further away from home. Part of him said that this wagon might have been godsent. He could wait it out and see, stay quiet and let his legs rest for the day.   “Or maybe it was not your doing?” Esja asked. She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I sense something with us in these woods…“ “I won’t do anything,” Rafn promised. He cleared his throat as best he could and stared up into the sky. ***

If it was up to Rafn’s, he would have stayed the night in any of the moss-covered little glades they passed by, but Esja had her heart set on the roast potatoes in The Blind Basilisk, the virtues of which she cheerfully extolled for half an hour. The inn appeared just as the sky was darkening and a flood of bloodhungry insects dove from the trees. Esja did not stop the wagon to lay an offering at stone marking the village boundary the way Rafn was used to. While she stabled the buck in a lantern-lit and quiet courtyard, he took it upon himself to walk a few steps away and in soft tones ask the goddess Arcaniss for her protection. She who kept watch over all mages might still care for him even now. A few moments later, when Esja was well out of earshot, he invoked the god of death three times and said the skilja-prayer for the deceased. In the streets, children were making the straw dolls they’d burn tomorrow. The ashes would be spread over the fields. New beginnings in endings. Less poetic were the coughs echoing between the gray stones that made up every building here, but the festival was also a place to pray for the end of illness, and it’d be good business for Esja. She was already smiling as she led Rafn into the inn. It was a shabby establishment, but deliberately so; the dwarven cook had been instructed to leave some peel on the potatoes and the barkeep took care not to get the glasses too clean. After the long time spent on the road, the music and fire and heat of it all was overwhelming. At least there were few other guests: A pair of gnomes chattered in the far corner, and at the bar, a tiefling licked the powdered sugar of a maameol cookie with his long, forked tongue. Esja strode through the room like she owned it, going straight to the innkeeper. A big, red-haired man he was, arms tattooed with geometric patterns. He greeted Esja with a cup of spicy tea and “I’ve got a bad feeling, miss.” “How so?” Esja asked. She sipped the tea and failed to suppress a grimace. Then she drank more anyway with the clear determination of someone not about to let free drinks go to waste. “Felt off since your wagon came in, if you don’t mind me saying. It’s setting off my amulets, see. Are you sure there’s nothin’ in it we oughta know about, nothing dark-magic-like? Say that man with you there – he seems kind of magic-y, don’t he? He cast anything?” “Don’t worry about it,” Esja said. “Perhaps your amulets are faulty? I happen to have excellent wards with me, and for only thirty gold pieces, you could – “ “No thank you, miss, I’ll do the selling here. Can I offer you some food or drink? A room?” “Yes. Some food for…” She looked down at Rafn and said, “Me and the lad here. We’ll take it in my room – just the one for now.” “Roasted potatoes and pork sausages?” asked the innkeeper, sounding more jovial as Esja started fishing gold coins from a leather pouch. Esja smiled with all canines showing. “Make it plucks and offal instead of sausage. How about you, Rafn?” Rafn rubbed his sore throat, hesitating. “I don’t eat meat.” “What?” Esja arched an eyebrow. “It is the natural way, and such a delight besides!” “It doesn’t sit well with me.” “Fine, fine, no meat for him. Make sure to knock a couple gold of the price for that, aye?” A few coins changed hands, and soon Esja received a key. She more or less ordered Rafn to help her haul her luggage from the wagon into a pile by the fireplace in her new room. It was decked out with worn wooden furniture and red wool blankets, smelled like cedar and sizzling fat. There were long black hairs on the straw-filled pillows. Esja ignored all of this, focusing on her wares. Rafn’s natural curiosity made it impossible not to look into every little drawer and chest she opened. Dried tobacco and tortoiseshell, powdered bones and potions of all sorts - none of them sorted. His fingers itched. A few bundles of herbs shifted on their own so that healing and poisonous flowers lay in different compartments. “So here’s why I need you,” Esja said, gesturing to the mess as it was laid out between them. “I need all my stock ready for the festival tomorrow. There’ll be lots of coin in it, but there is no way I can do it all by myself. But if you lend me a hand, we might manage to sort these herbs by potency and purpose – not to mention the potions I’ve got to brew…” “Mage-apprentices do nothing but sort their masters’ stocks,” Rafn scoffed. “And I can brew a health potion with my eyes closed.” “Excellent. I’ll sort through the knick-knacks while you get started on that.” She turned her back to him and couched by a chest of drawers. It was quick work for Rafn who quickly recalled how to crush poppy-seeds into paste and mix it with oils and liquids. While he stood with the mortar and pestle, the herbs continued to sort themselves into neat piles. Outside the children were called inside by their mothers, and the patrons downstairs talked louder and louder with each successive bump of a mug of beer hitting the bar desk. A sharp intake of breath drew Rafn’s wandering attention back to Esja. She held in her hand a faintly glowing amulet. Just feeling an enchantment at work nearby made Rafns blood hum in sympathy. “What’s that?” he asked. “Amulet. Tells me when there’s death-energy afoot. I thought I should check after the innkeeper so kindly mentioned it.” Furrowing her brows, Esja held the amulet out towards him. She looked down, then up at him, then down, then declared: “You are apparently extremely haunted, young Rafn.” “Well then.” He tried to appear worried about this development but forgot to stop mixing the potion he was working on. “You knew?” Esja asked. “Erh… Yes. It’s nothing to worry about, I swear - on Iothir’s molted feathers if you want.” “I believe you.” She stepped back, crossing her slender arms. A few leaves fell from her hair. “You look honest. So let me have a look at that strange, curious affliction you’ve got – “ “It’s not an affliction, it’s a person – “ A knock in the door interrupted the both of them. The innkeeper’s red face appeared along with two platters of steaming food. Silently, both Esja and Rafn agreed to postpone any conversation. ***

Esja sat across from Rafn, picking leaves from her shoulder to put on top of the pile of organ meat she’d been given. “I tried to make my body grow rosemary and sage,” she explained. “So far, no luck.” “That would’ve been practical.” Rafn emptied his cup. The mead warmed him inside-out. He’d drunk river-water for a couple of days and was not keen to repeat that experience anytime soon. “I have not stayed in one place for long enough to adapt. I just grow a bit of everything, but never for long.” Esja stuck her fork into a potato on Rafn’s plate and swallowed it in one gulp. “What do the elves look like where you’re from?” “They’re like… trees. Woodsy. Sometimes they are part fern or moss. I knew one who was definitely all ferns.” Rafn averted his eyes, looking into the mug. Her generosity continued to surprise him as much as her corresponding pragmatism. And now, she was trying to coax his story from him with a little bit of both. A piece of potato lifted itself from Esja’s plate and levitated to Rafn’s as a quiet revenge. Esja said, “That was mine. But I reckon that wasn’t you moving it, was it, Rafn?” She stood up, her chair screeching against the floorboards. “Ghost! If you’re here, I want to talk to you to, whatever you are. If you’re a nature spirit, consider this a bloody order from an elf.” She gesticulated with her fork, dropping a piece of meat onto Rafn’s lap. “Show yourself!” “They can’t. And please don’t try to banish them.” “Why not?” He bared his teeth, even as he knew they looked unimpressive to an elf with pointy canines. “For your own sake.” “How threatening,” Esja said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You dropped your piece of liver.” Rafn gently placed the lump back on the table. Esja prodded at it. “You can identify that?” “Yeah. You’ve got some chopped lungs there, too. That’s a heart. There’s the spleen. Not the right shape though. I think the hen was sick.” Rafn tried not to look beyond the edges of the plate, but behind him, the potion bottles shifted again. “Speaking of sick.” Esja reached into a pouch and retrieved a small bottle containing a clear blue liquid. She slid it over the table, saying, “Here. The other dose of antidote.” “Thank you.” Rafn down the bottle at once, coughed, and then felt relief as the scratchy feeling in his throat abated. The aftertaste was cloyingly sweet like wild honey. Esja’s eyes were hard. “Nothing in life is free,” she said, leaning forward. “Tell me. What did you do to deserve a ghost, Rafn?” The mage put the bottle down and found there was another kind of relief that Esja could give him. ***

“I’m from this small village a couple of hours from Three-River. We’re right at the edge of the woods, and there are some elves there who never liked how the humans go logging in the summer. Used to be we could see elves standing in the shadows, eyes glowing– I’m sorry, but you know how it is. Humans and elves don’t talk there. We’ve sat down laws about it. The elves are worse about it, though. They speak more to the animals than us. I heard them.” His face and tone both softened. “I watched them. I got too curious one day. Halfway through my apprenticeship there was this elf, Tué, with ferns for hair and the softest hands in the world. Apparently there are plants that don’t reproduce sexually, but with spores, which makes the dimorphism less – oh, what I’m trying to say is that Tué was scientifically interesting at first. “I didn’t think our woods were worth seeing. Ever since I first made a spark it was all books and libraries, and those are wonderful, but Tué took me out to the river – have you ever been out to a river or a mountain or someplace like that just to be there and look at it? Don’t say it’s boring. Not with the right people. We have wonderful cliffs with waterfalls by my village. Tué and I picked wild apples and strawberries, slept under the pines or the sky, depending on the weather. I hadn’t touched dirt for years until then. We shot arrows and I only almost hit hem once, and I got really good at illusion magic to make these lights for us when we stayed out late. “Fights started breaking out around the border around the feast for Kepesk. Smaller ones first. A scout who made a wrong turn. The usual, until it got worse. One day – that’s what the other hunters said anyway – Tué was out with a pack of other elves when a group of men with axes came in. They might have been there for firewood, not fighting, but uh… we’ll never know, will we? The elves ran from them. Tué ran the wrong way. Those neat cliffs with the waterfalls… “I’ll never look at them again as long as I live. Swear it on Iothar’s feathers. “So I hear that through a friend of a friend who heard it from a border guard. Nobody knew that me and Tué had this thing. I couldn’t believe they were dead until I’d seen it for myself, so I headed into the woods one last time. “I know Tué had told the elves what they wanted done with their body when they died, because we’d talked about it – one of those times where you compare customs, talk about what funerals are like for humans and elves, hoping to find you’re alike, you know? It was untraditional that Tué wanted to be buried somewhere outside the woods, but if they died first, they wanted me to be able to come visit. We didn’t think that’d ever happen. There was a hill where we’d been meeting, but those elves didn’t let that happen. They were taking Tué’s body into their temple, doing something that wasn’t Tué’s wishes. I hid myself, used all the webs and cloaks of illusions an apprentice can muster, and snuck in. “I don’t know if every temple to Caesin is like this one was, but it was too dark and I didn’t like hearing them sing the way they did. Trembling, echoes everywhere even after they’d all gone away. They’d laid Tué on a big table and surrounded them with flowers, but it wasn’t right, you know? There was nothing there meant for me. How was I supposed to mourn surrounded by elf-things and their – sorry, their weird forest-religion? And why should I mourn in the first place? Because other people had done stupid things? That’s what wizards do. We do the stupid things. We don’t stand back and take the consequences of other people’s stupid choices. That’s what I thought, standing there, and so… “I did a stupid thing. “Humans took Tué’s life from me and the elves took the legs, arms, chest, head, eyes, even the chance to visit his grave. But I hadn’t always studied illusion magic. Before then, I had another talent. They took everything else, but I…” Rafn touched his hand to his chest. The firelight lit his face from below, widening his smile. “I got Tué’s heart.”

***

Esja had devoured her meat and potatoes, determined not to waste her money, but she seemed to have barely tasted either. She had not taken her eyes off of Rafn when he reached the end of his tale. “Wait,” she said. “You don’t mean – “ “In here, yes.” An unmistakably proud smile appeared on Rafn’s face. “I slapped it right inside of me, spent all my mana stitching it up and fitting it in, and let it hurt like hell for hours until – well, it’s a part of me now. You can feel it if you don’t believe me.” She touched her light hand to the skin he readily bared and shuddered at the sensation. A red line marked a healed wound at the center of his chest. Blackened edges. Skin forced to fuse. She felt two heartbeats, right and left out of sync, one struggling and skipping beats, but there, there alright. A subtle wrongness radiated through his skin. “You know your way around organs,” she stated. “When it comes down to it, cutting Tué open wasn’t like surgery,” Rafn said, speaking fast as if relishing in finally being able to share what he’d seen. There was a sense of relief to it, a blister opened, words running out of a wound in his skin. “’Leastways not like dissecting frogs with my master. More like cutting wood. The skin cracked and the ribs I could just pull apart like dead branches. It smelled like dead grass and lavender inside. Maybe they stuffed the corpse with herbs, I don’t know. A bit of necromantic magic, a bit of this and that, and it melted into me.” His eyes shone. “That’s a blessing if I’ve ever heard of one.” “Ach, I don’t think the gods bless us much at all. I can’t say. But what of the humans – what did they say?” Esja said. “Yeah, no. They didn’t agree with me. Fact is, they ran me out of town, and I’d never been outside much except for the treks with Tué. I didn’t know what I was doing – I just survived. Got by. Got desperate enough to try to steal your stuff. Sorry about that.” He took a swig of spiced wine, swallowed too fast and coughed. “Hey, since you’re on the road too, not with a clan, I was thinking… Has something similar happened to you?” “I do not think anybody has had something similar happen, Rafn Rightheart,” the elf said. “I simply left for the sake of mammon. If you want my educated opinion, you’ve made a lot of trouble for your little self. Someday you’ll have to let that heart of yours go, or it will fester. I’ve seen a lot of wounds. I know what I’m talking about.” She pointed her fork at him. “It’ll rot you inside out. I know rotting. I know organs too. Remember – medicines, disease is my business.” “What I’ve done is not entirely right,” Rafn admitted, “but it’s not wrong either.” Esja did not need her amulet to feel the ghostly presence now. The bottles were sorted, so the invisible being moved on to separate flowers into bundles, tying delicate bows of twine around them. A sigh - Esja lowered her fork, finished her wine. “What am I to do about you…?” “Leave me be,” Rafn suggested. Behind him, the herbs hung suspended in midair. Some crumbled as if crushed. “Or rather, leave us be.” “Can you hear them say anything?” “No. I can’t see or hear more than you. But I can sometimes… feel things.” He touched his chest, closing his eyes. “You are an affront to nature,” Esja said. “But. You know how to work with potions, and most importantly…” “Yes?” Rafn waited nervously. His shirt began closing itself, and his hair moved as if a breeze ran through it. “I need help. You are two pairs of hands for the price of one. If I have to pay your room and board, that is a pretty good deal. I like to make deals.” She counted imaginary gold coins on her fingers. “Do you want a job other than failed bandit?” Rafn couldn’t suppress a nervous smile. He turned to the window where nightfall had made condensation appear on the glass, and an invisible finger traced letters spelling out YES. “Yes,” he said. “We’ll take it.”

***

Elves sing, and elves don’t need much sleep. These traits do not go well together in an inn. Esja’s voice was audible through the thin walls between her and Rafn’s rooms – she had bought them separate quarters “just this once, so that you and your soulmate can have your privacy” - and now Rafn lay listening to her while Tué spelled out words letter by letter on his open palm. He wondered if she had simply wanted to put some distance between them out of digust.

“Now light withers away And the long winter day Comes closer, closer now…”

Esja hummed the next stanzas, occasionally throwing in a word in elvish. Not one of the few that Rafn knew. He turned onto his side and realized that he’d lain down on the very edge of the bed as if he’d be sharing it with someone. Falling asleep was the only part of his new existence that troubled him; The heart beside his was full of gnarled roots and flowers that pushed against his skin. Some nights it suddenly lurched into a too-fast rhythm that woke him up and made him wonder what Tué was thinking about. Rafn’s own thoughts settled into the inn and its area, again growing used to being back among people. He was out of the woods. Past the worst of it, or at least in a place where he could dare to hope that was true. Tomorrow, at the festival pyre, he would say the skilja again. Then he would say one more prayer, another kind, whishing wealth for another unusual elf.

[anotherlifefic]

Chapter 38: Happy Days

We returned to our home in the city after the party. For the first time in what seemed like years. And after that, everything seemed to go back to the way it was. Link made a full recovery, I continued to attend my fighting lessons at Ashanti‘s school once a week, during which I would leave Gareth in either Link‘s or Sanna‘s care, and worked on Malon‘s wedding dress. Navi soon left us to return to the forest, promising to come back if we ever needed her. The chill of winter slowly faded into the gentle warmth of spring, which was then replaced by the heat of summer approaching. And when the first day of summer arrived, I spotted a familiar wagon while out shopping.

Link and I were walking side by side, talking about whatever trivial things came to our minds. Link was holding Gareth and I carried the basket. While I let my eyes wander over the stalls on the marketplace, I stopped and called out:„Jenna!“ Link must have heard the excitement in my voice, because he gave me a puzzled look. „Why are you so excited about her being here?“ Oh right. I hadn‘t told him. And he would have to wait for an explanation. I just grabbed his sleeve and tugged him towards Jenna‘s wagon. „Come, let‘s go say hello to her!“ Gareth, sensing my excitement, cooed and stretched his tiny hands out towards where we were headed. He was four months old now and much more aware of his sorroundings. Jenna poked her head out of the wagon when she heard my voice, and gave me an annoyed look, until she saw Link. She gave him her usual bright smile and waved him over. „Link!“ Link looked at me doubtfully. „What...“ „I‘ll explain it later“, I assured him and stepped in front of Jenna. „Hello, Jenna. Good to see you again. How have your travels been?“ Both Link and Jenna seemed equally baffled by my cheerful attitude. They looked at each other, then at me. „It‘s been… nice. Always good to see a lot of the world“, she sputtered, caught completely off guard. „That‘s good to hear. Hey, Link and I were planning to make baked salmon for supper. Why don‘t you join us, so you can tell us all about what you were up to?“ She looked at Link again. „Sure. I‘d love to.“ „Great! See you at six!“

„What was that?“, Link questioned as we moved on, occasionally stopping in front of stalls to browse their wares. „I met Jenna in the erased future“, I replied, and then explained what had happened. Link was quiet for a long time after I finished, just silently rocking Gareth in his arms. Then he finally asked:„So you think you can become friends with her now, based on what you experienced during your time-travel.“ „I know I can. Jenna has a good heart.“

That evening, just when I got the salmon out of the oven, there was a knock at our door. Link went to open, and a few seconds later Jenna stepped into our dining area. She wore an exquisite blue dress made of silk, with a low neckline and fine embroidery on the seams. Her hair was done up in a crownbraid. „Ah, just in time!“ I placed the food down on the dinnertable. „Make yourself comfortable!“ She sat down at the table, still looking at me suspiciously, before she turned to Link. „Oh, your house is beautiful, Link! It must be so nice to live here!“ „It is.“ „Though I kind of expected you to have a bigger home“, she continued. Before Link could answer, Gareth, who was sitting in a crib we had placed in the dining area so he could sit with us while we ate, started fussing. I took him into my arms and rocked him until he calmed down. Jenna slowly turned her head to look at him. „...Is this your child?“ „Yes“, Link replied, his chest positively swelling with pride. „That‘s my son.“ I could almost see Jenna‘s heart break. She looked at the toddler in my arms with her mouth slightly open as if to say something. I wanted to comfort her. To say, or do anything to make her feel better. So impulsively, I stretched out my arms. „Do you want to hold him?“ She swallowed, but took Gareth, holding him close to her chest. „So cute“, she mumbled. „I wonder what you would look like if I was your mother.“ I reached over, but only to stroke Gareth‘s cheek as he dozed in Jenna‘s arms. „I‘m sure you‘d have the prettiest babies, Jenna.“ She looked at me, bit her lip and looked away. „Well I guess we‘ll never know.“ With that, she carefully placed Gareth back in the crib and started eating. After a while of quietly enjoying our meal, I tried to get the conversation going again:„So where have you been, Jenna? You were gone for almost a year, so it must have been far away.“ „I went to a lot of different places“, she replied, pulling the fish apart with her fork. „I went back home for a while, and then travelled through the Faron region just east of Hyrule‘s border. Have you ever been there?“ I sighed wistfully. „Unfortunately not. The only time I ever left Hyrule was not too long ago, while I was… looking for someone.“ Link and I exchanged a quick look. „But even then, I was still fairly close to the border.“ „Oh, Faron is a beautiful region. Most of the trees there are palm trees, and you can find all kinds of exotic fruit and animals if you know where to look. But it‘s also fairly dangerous. There are thunderstorms every other day… the locals say it‘s because there‘s a dragon living in the region. I never saw it, though.“ Jenna‘s demeanor had brightened considerably. „And what about your homeland? What was it called? The Great Lebian Coast? Where is that?“, I asked further. „It‘s very far to the west. You see, north of the Haunted Wasteland lies a region covered in snow, called Hebra. Now if you go further west, you eventually cross the border to Labrynna, and right behind Labrynna is where the Great Lebian Coast is.“ In between two bites of potatoes, she continued:„I technically still own my parent‘s farm, but I was so lonely living there alone and I couldn‘t run it all by myself. That‘s why I became a merchant. I hoped that travelling around would help me… find a good husband. Someone to continue my family‘s legacy with.“ „I‘m sure you will find someone eventually“, Link said with a smile. „You are a sweet girl, Jenna. Someday, someone will see that.“

As the night went on, Jenna told us more about the many places she had visited. Countries I had never even heard about, with odd people and even odder costums. And the more I heard, the more I wished to travel myself. When it was finally time to say goodbye, Jenna was smiling at us. „Thank you for the invitation.“ „You‘re welcome. And feel free to visit us whenever you like while you‘re in the city.“

I didn‘t have much time to think about travelling after that. The days leading up to Malon‘s wedding were busy, to say the least. As the matron of honor, I was in charge of most of the preparations. I helped the bridesmaids decorate, I oversaw the preparation of the food, and I finished Malon‘s dress and veil just in time. She looked beautiful in it, like a princess. „Matthias will love this“, I told her as I finished some adjustments due to her advanced pregnancy. „I know I do“, she replied, a bit misty-eyed. „Thank you, Rebecca.“ I lightly booped her nose. „Anything for you.“

And then, finally, the day had come. I held back tears as I saw Malon walk down the aisle, holding onto the arm of her father, while Matthias beamed at her. I had made sure that LonLon Ranch was properly decorated. Flowers of all colours were wound around the arch, and the aisle was covered in petals. For this day, the ranch had been turned into a fairlytale bathed in flowers. Once Talon handed her over to Matthias, I took Malon‘s bouquet and listened to the words of the priest. It was the same kind of sermon he had giving during my wedding; the standard for most couples. Malon and Matthias were looking at each other the whole time, as if only they existed in their own little world. „I, Malon, take you, Matthias to be my lawfully wedded husband...“ „To love, to cherish… „...in sickness and in health...“ „...until death do us part.“ They exchanged the rings, and then kissed. The whole wedding party cheered, some were crying. Talon was probably the loudest, blowing his nose into his hankerchief.

The reception afterward quickly became a big party, with all of the guests drinking and dancing. I mostly stood by the side with Link, watching everyone have a good time. At this point, I was quite happy just watching. I was exhausted from the preparations, but it felt good to see everything come together in the end. Link took my hand. „Reminds me of our wedding. Our reception wasn‘t quite as lively, though.“ „Well… we kinda got married in a rush because of the approaching war.“ He nodded thoughtfully. „Do you think we should have another wedding? A proper one this time?“ „I mean, we could technically renew our vows at some point… but I think it‘s a bit early for that.“ „That‘s true. Maybe a few years down the road, then.“ Now that I was finally a bit calmer, I looked over to him. „Actually… there‘s something I wanted to talk about.“ He raised his eyebrow. „Oh?“ I was quiet for a moment, not quite able to find the right words. But then I just blurted out:„I want to go travelling!“ „Travelling? But what about our home? What about Gareth?“ „We can take him along. He can grow up seeing all kinds of different places.“ I held onto Link‘s hand, begging for him to understand. „I‘m not saying we should leave Hyrule forever. Just… see a bit more of the world. Without the threat of certain doom constantly on our minds.“ He took a deep breath. „I… I‘d be lying if I said that I haven‘t thought about this before. But are you sure?“ „Absolutely!“ I insisted. „All of the places Jenna mentioned… and much more! I want to see them all with my own two eyes!“ This was ridiculous. I felt like a child begging for candy. Link thought for a few more seconds. „...We‘ll have to wait until after the coronation and then ask Zelda what she thinks about it. It may be an unofficial title, but I‘m still the protector of Hyrule.“ That sure as hell didn‘t bother you when you left ten years ago, I though but didn‘t say it out loud. I didn‘t want to start a lover‘s spat at my best friend‘s wedding. Speaking of best friend, Malon walked up to us, a wide grin on her face. „Hey there! I hope you enjoy the party!“ „Sure we do, Malon“, I assured her. „What about you?“ „Oh it is everything I ever dreamed of.“ She hugged me and kissed my cheek. „Thank you, Rebecca.“

The coronation was not long after the wedding. Link and I were standing in the throne room, somewhat off to the side, while we watched Zelda walk down the red carpet up to the throne her father used to occupy. She now wore an elaborate gown of white and purple, with the emblem of the royal family stitched down the front of her skirt. It was noon, and the sun‘s rays that were falling through the window above the throne hit her hair and almost made it look like she had a halo around her head. The sages were gathered around the throne, as they would be her vassals during her reign. She bowed before them, and they reciprocated; a sign of mutual respect. Rauru stepped forth. „Zelda, once Princess of Hyrule, do you vow to protect Hyrule and its people?“ „I do“, she replied. „Do you vow to keep the peace, to rule justly and with mercy?“ „I do“, she replied again. Now Rauru turned around. „Will the representatives of the races lend our new Queen their power?“ „By lake and stream, sea and river, us, the Zora, will grant Her Majesty our loyalty“, Princess Ruto replied. „By mountain and hill, rock and stone, us, the Gorons, will grant Her Majesty our strength“, Darunia added, pounding his fist against his chest for emphasis. „By darkness and shadow, by secrets to be kept, us, the Sheikah, will grant Her Majesty our protection.“ Impa gave a small smile as she said that. „By forest and meadow, and all things green, us, the Kokiri, will grant Her Majesty our friendship.“ Saria beamed up at Zelda. It was good to see how much the once so reclusive Kokiri had become part of the kingdom. „By sand and spirit, blood and steel, us, the Gerudo, will grant Her Majesty our support.“ Rauru nodded, then turned to Zelda again. „And I, Rauru, grant Her Majesty the blessing of both her ancestors and the Goddesses they served. May Her reign be long and prosperous.“ He took the crown that had been resting on a small table next to him, and gently put it on Zelda‘s head. The gemstone on the middle of the piece flared up in the sunlight, and Zelda turned to the people. The hall erupted into cheering, its echo so deafening that I had to cover my ears. But I smiled. Zelda would be a wonderful Queen.

The coronation party lasted for hours, which Link and I spent dancing and talking to the sages. But once it all died down and people started to go home, we could finally catch Zelda alone. „There you are!“, she said. Then she looked around. „I hope you enjoyed the celebration.“ „It was grand, Your Majesty“, I replied, not sure if I could still call her Zelda now that she was Queen. „Rebecca“, she said gently, taking my hands. „It‘s still me. I‘m still your friend. Me being Queen doesn‘t change anything.“ Then she leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on my cheek. She smelled sweet. Of lilac and roses. „There‘s actually something we wanted to talk to you about“, Link said, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. „Rebecca and I have been thinking about going travelling for a while.“ It wasn‘t hard to see that this revelation hit her. „You want to leave? Now?“ „Not… now. There‘s still a lot to be prepared. But sometime within the next year.“ „What about your son? And your home? What about m-… “ She stopped, stuttered a bit. „What about Hyrule? Link, you are our most powerful warrior. What if something happens while you‘re gone?“ „We won‘t be gone for long“, Link promised. „We‘ll be back before you know it. With a lot of new stories to tell.“ Zelda faltered. „I can‘t stop you, can I? No. You were always a restless spirit, Link. Alright then. But do stay in touch.“ „We will“, I promised and kissed her hand. „We will always return to you. No matter how far away the wind takes us.“