#saying farewell to roger the horse

[exhaustedpirate]

parent for hire

here is the fourth chapter! enjoy! (also some bad news: I am going on holidays for two weeks so, I won't be posting during that period - the fifth chapter will be up on the 25th of September! I'm sorry!) If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know! As always, @kmomof4 is my saviour and I am starting a religion in her name, join me!

Chapter Four - Arendelle

word count: 13,205 words 

rating: Teen and Up

tag list: @cocohook38 ; @bluewildcatfanatic ; @piraterefrigerator ; @sotangledupinit ; @booksteaandtoomuchtv

read on AO3 | prologue | one | two | three

"You failed, Huntsman."

The Queen's mostly elegant demeanor seemed to crack before his eyes. His heart in her hand was held in a tight grip, the pain constant even as he kept standing.

"I aimed towards the man, I didn't see the other until it was too late," he tried to explain.

"But, you're in luck," she interrupted. The drastic change in tone, as well as her wide grin, startled him. "Your mistake might just be my fortune."

"What?" 

"You better hope she dies, or you'll take her place," Regina sneered.

Still confused, he watched as Regina turned back to the mirror who replayed the figure being hit by the poisoned arrow time and time again. 

---

About a year after meeting Nemo, the Captain had let him sail the Caspartine alone. Killian had been flying supervised for a few months by then, observing for much longer, and the older man had felt confident that he was ready.

It had gone successfully, Killian focused on the helm and the winds, while trying to ignore his Captain's orders towards the other crew members. He was determined to do it right.

Killian remembered how his fingers had gone numb around the helm, his jaw clenched to prevent his teeth from chattering. He remembered the warmth he felt when Nemo had placed a heavy jacket over his shoulders - a heat that warmed his chilled body but also his heart. He remembered the care when Nemo urged a pair of gloves on his freezing hands.

But most of all, he remembered the hand on his shoulder that banished the cold.

Killian had witnessed first hand just how frigid the northern air could be when sailing up in the sky, but down here, trekking up the mountain, he could feel none of it. His blood burned hot with fear.

His coat was wrapped around Emma as her body slumped more and more over Henry's body on top of Roger. She spent more time unconscious than conscious now. Her mask had come off mere hours after she’d been shot, claiming shortness of breath. Once she could breathe a little bit easier, she made a mocking comment about the Lost Ones' sense of style, but promptly passed out before either of them could ask what she meant.

With her mask gone, Killian found himself often distracted. To be able to see her eyes, to witness the emotions she thought she was hiding reflected in their fetching green depths, had already been enticing enough. But now, to be able to see how her lips glistened as she ran her tongue over them, to be able to see how they wrapped around her words, was perhaps too much. And then there was the sharpness of her jaw, the soft skin of her cheeks, the way the cold made them redden and the way her nose matched. He tried to keep it to himself - now was most definitely not the time - besides the fact that she hadn't shown any interest toward him. 

It was easier to focus on the problem at hand when, without the cover of her mask, he was able to see the amber lines of the poison running up her jaw. When he could see how her eyes dulled. When he could hear the shortness of her breath.

Henry tried to use his magic to generate warmth for the two of them, successfully, but they were still tired, hungry. They had made only one stop since the beginning of their journey since Killian and Henry had agreed that they wanted to reach their destination as quickly as possible. Their rations had depleted earlier that day. 

Their one stop was two nights ago. Killian's feet were freezing in his boots and their last blanket was wrapped around his shoulders, his hand blue around Roger's reins.

Thankfully, Roger was accustomed to harsh weather and long journeys and provided a somewhat comfortable place of rest for his companions. He also seemed to be in touch with Killian’s concern. 

"How long until we get there, Killian?" Henry's voice was a mumble from under the weight of the blankets.

He took another glance towards the white landscape and, for a moment, he feared he was hallucinating due to lack of sleep. But no, the round boulders scattered over the valley were still there on his third blink.

"I think we're here."

Henry's head emerged from the mountain of blankets, his eyes shining with hope as he saw the valley. Carefully, Killian helped Henry dismount, intending to keep a slumbering Emma comfortably on top of the horse.

"Where are they?" Henry asked, looking around.

Killian took a moment to tuck a blanket around Emma, getting distracted over the small uptick of her lips. His fingers ghosted over her cheek.

"It's the Truest Believer!"

A voice echoing in the valley broke through his thoughts of the softness of Emma's skin. Killian moved quickly to stand in front of Henry, sword drawn.

The boulders began to stand - legs, feet, arms, faces appearing on all of them. As surprised as he was, Killian sighed, wondering how he would fight a dozen rocks with one sword and two days without sleeping.

Scattered exclamations filled the air before the rock closest to them, which was also the largest, urged them all to be quiet.

"My apologies, friends,” he said, addressing Killian and Henry, “My family is quite excited to see the prophecy come to life. I'm Grand Pabbie,” he said with a small bow, “Welcome to our valley."

"Rock trolls," Henry exclaimed in a whisper, now standing next to Killian.

"Please excuse our suspicions, many people have tried to harm the boy," Killian explained, grip still firm on his sword.

"Yes, yes, we understand." The patriarch stilled his approaching family. "You are safe here."

Killian looked towards Henry with an expectant look, having learned to trust the boy’s instincts by this point. Henry looked back at him with a smile and a nod. He was relieved, to be truthful, he wasn't in much of a shape to fight against boulders. Well, to fight at all.

He watched, still wary, as Henry took Grand Pabbie's extended hand, to the cheers of the others throughout the valley. Killian put away his sword.

A groan caught his attention and he moved quickly towards Roger to check on Emma.

"Grand Pabbie, you need to help us," Henry pleaded. "Our friend has been poisoned."

"Yes, of course. Could you bring your friend to me?"

"Killian-" Henry began, turning toward him. Killian nodded.

She was still unconscious, her skin hot despite the cold, dark orange lines reaching her eyes. His hand trembled, but no longer with fear, as he carefully pulled away the blankets surrounding her body. Killian eased her into his arms, holding her close. He slowly crouched on the ground, taking care to lay her down gently at the leader's feet. He didn't stand, wanting to keep close to Emma, barely feeling Henry's hand on his shoulder.

Grand Pabbie spared her the briefest glance before a grim expression took over his face. Killian's heart pounded in his chest.

"Yes, this poison is vicious,” he said. “Fortunately, it didn't hit her heart. Unfortunately, our magic is not strong enough to remove it. We-"

It was like jumping into the cold waters of the ocean, his heart stopping in his chest. "What?!" Killian's shout echoed through the valley. "Are you saying you can't help her?!" He stood quickly, ignoring his body's protests as he did.

"Killian…" Henry called in a quiet voice, his hand grabbing onto his arm. There was a taste of defeat in Killian's mouth, of despair.

"My friend,” Grand Pabbie interjected calmly, “that is not what I said. I said our magic is not enough to heal her, but with the Truest Believer's help, we will save your companion. You mustn’t lose hope." 

Later, Killian would feel guilty over his outburst. Later, Killian would apologize. Now, all he felt was the prickling of tears in his eyes. 

Aware of Killian's emotions, Henry tightened his hand on his arm, hoping to reassure him.

"I can help?" Henry asked as he took a step forward.

Grand Pabbie turned his attention to the boy, a wide smile on his face, leaving Killian to take deep calming breaths.

"Of course you can, my child. Come." 

Killian stood, eyes focused on Emma. He watched as Henry and the elder troll approached Emma's unconscious body. 

"This poison was created by nature. We must return it to whence it came, to create balance," he explained. He took Henry's hand and placed it over Emma's chest, while the other he placed on the ground. "Feel it, listen to it, and guide it." 

Henry nodded, determination glinting in his eyes before he closed them in concentration.

Killian took a step back, his hand clenched to his side. Hope and despair battled for dominance within him, threatening to drown him. He wanted to believe that Henry, under Grand Pabbie’s guidance, could heal Emma, but the despair in his heart over the threat of losing her too soon wasn’t so easily vanquished. Roger's breath tickled his face from over his shoulder. There were times the horse felt more human being than animal, and this was one of those times. His hand stroked Roger’s head, willing his breathing to regulate.

A glow surrounded Emma's body and Killian watched as the yellow liquid drained from her until there was none left. The dark orange lines that had covered her face disappeared with it and Killian could breathe again.

"Very good, my child," Grand Pabbie complimented, the other trolls cheering in response.

"Thank you," Henry breathed, sounding tired but happy. Moments later, his frown made an appearance on his face. "Why isn't she waking up?" he asked, echoing Killian's concerned thoughts.

The elder troll quickly placed his hand on the boy's arm. "The poison was very powerful, it took a lot from her. She needs to rest." 

Henry nodded before he looked up at Killian, who nodded in response.

"As do all of you," Grand Pabbie added, after taking a better look at the travelers. "Come, I know the perfect place." 

Killian cleared his throat. "All we need is a safe place to set up camp."

"Nonsense. You've traveled this far, you deserve comfort."

Killian wanted to reject the offer. He wanted to keep them safe, but not with strangers. But one look at Henry's posture, at Emma's still unconscious body, and Roger's clearly tired posture, prompted him to put his pride aside.

"Lead the way," he said as he took Emma back into his arms. He placed her upon Roger's back, silently pleading with the animal for just another few minutes of effort.

Killian led Roger by the reins once more through a path created by happy rock trolls on either side, as he followed Henry and Grand Pabbie.

He wasn’t sure how long they walked until they were standing in front of a cottage surrounded by snow. He’d spent the time focused on Henry's back, on Henry's voice as he introduced them to Grand Pabbie and explained what had happened to them, keeping his troubled thoughts at bay.

With a surprisingly gentle touch, the elder troll knocked on the door. A moment later, a redhead opened the door, a sharp sword in her hand. Killian quickly grabbed the hilt of his own, but he stopped himself when the young woman let out an excited exclamation once she saw Grand Pabbie.

The young woman and Grand Pabbie exchanged delighted hugs and proclamations of excitement as Killian took a deep breath, releasing his sword. The exhaustion pulled at him, but his mind stayed alert with his worry over Emma and Henry.

Before the redhead's excitement died down, a tall, white blonde haired woman entered the room. It was obvious she was also happy over Grand Pabbie's presence, but she expressed it much more reservedly than the other woman.

"Elsa, Anna,” Grand Pabbie said, pointing to each of them in turn, “these are Henry, Killian and Emma. They have traveled far and need a place to rest." 

"Of course, we'd be happy to help." The one called Anna smiled widely, with an especially friendly smile towards Henry, who smiled back in turn. "Right, Elsa?"

The white haired woman, however, kept her eyes on Killian. She seemed to be searching for something - trying to understand something, perhaps - he wasn’t sure, before she turned back towards Grand Pabbie. The elder troll smiled gently.

"These travelers wish you no harm," he assured her. “You have my word.”

Elsa nodded at his words. "Anna, can you take their horse to the stable?"

"Yes, yes!" She quickly placed a hood over her shoulders and stood in front of the horse. "Don't worry, friend,” she said, patting him on the nose, “you won't have to share beds with anyone." Anna chuckled at her own joke, Henry joining her. "What's his name?"

"Anna…" Elsa began.

"What? He must have a name," Anna justified herself before she turned towards Killian. "Right?"

A warmth filled his chest as he exchanged a look with Henry, both of them remembering the same thing.

"His name is Roger," Killian answered.

"A great name! Hi, Roger." Anna continued stroking the horse's head, who seemed to enjoy the attention. It seemed they were fast friends.

Killian patted the horse's neck, before easing Emma off of him. He looked towards Henry and the boy rushed to collect their things off the horse.

"What happened?" Elsa asked, her eyes focused on Emma.

"Our friend Emma was poisoned." Grand Pabbie answered her question directly but with tact. "You understand their need for rest."

"Yes, of course. Come in, please." Elsa urged them inside after a nod at Anna, who took Roger's reins and led him towards the stables.

"Thank you, my dear." Killian heard Grand Pabbie behind him as he moved toward the door. "I'll see you later." The sound of rolling reached him and he turned just in time to see a large boulder rolling down the hill.

He turned to Henry, who watched as well, an amused smile on his face. Killian tried to match it, but he wasn’t sure he was successful.

Elsa quickly closed the door behind them, urging them to follow her towards a room with a fireplace and a very comfortable looking bed. Although, to be honest, any bed would look comfortable to Killian at this point.

"You can let your friend rest here, while yo-"

"We're staying together," Killian interrupted her. "Please,” he said a bit more gently, “you must understand." 

"Yes, yes, of course." Elsa nodded. "I would want the same if it was my sister. We must keep the ones we love close."

Killian wanted to correct her, explain to her the nature of their relationship, but what would be the point? It wouldn't change anything about the fact that Killian wanted to protect them, needed to protect them. He wanted nothing more than to keep them close to him. Exactly as Elsa had just said.

"Do you have food?" Henry's question brought his wandering thoughts and his steps toward the bed to a sudden halt.

"Henry…" Killian chastised.

"It's alright,” Elsa assured them, “You must be hungry as well as tired." Elsa smiled, keeping her eyes on the boy. "I'll bring you some food. Please, make yourselves comfortable."

With a satisfied expression, Henry turned to Killian who could only shake his head with an amused smile. Regardless of his lighter mood, Henry still followed him closely as he placed Emma on the bed, quickly making sure she was comfortable. They fixed the hood around her head, unsure of how she would feel if she knew they had removed it without her permission. Still, Killian caught a glimpse of her blonde hair and couldn’t help the thoughts that filled his brain.

Thankfully, Elsa returned soon after, distracting them with the food in her hands. Now that they were safe and the adrenaline that had been sustaining him for two days was fading, Killian felt exhaustion pull at him. He sat on the bed while Henry rushed towards Elsa's offering. His back leaned against the wall as he eased Emma's head onto his lap, needing to keep her close. His eyelids drooped. It was impossible to keep them open.

"You must eat." Elsa’s gentle admonishment startled him awake and his eyes focused on the bread she held. He smiled and nodded in thanks, forcing himself to eat. She watched him for a moment before she nodded, satisfied with his progress and returned to the table where Henry sat.

It didn’t take him long to finish and he could stay awake no longer.

He had no idea how long he slept, but the sun was rising when he finally woke up. He had flashes of remembrance from the night and day before - something soft being placed behind him, a particularly loud laugh - but overall, he’d slept soundly since arriving. There was a weight on his side and he turned to see a sleeping Henry laying against his chest on the opposite side from where Emma's head was placed. His hooked arm was around the boy while his hand was settled on Emma's chest, over her heart.

He looked down to see her still resting, the steady beat of her heart under his palm reassuring. Looking across the room, he found it empty. The fire in the fireplace was slowly dying and he could see a cloth covered plate on the table.

Something metallic and cold on his thumb caught his attention. He wasn’t sure how he didn't notice it last time. His exhausted mind must have clouded his senses. It was his ring, nestled against her chest on its chain. He wondered when Henry gave it to her. 

Memories of strong winds and waves tossing him around in the midst of the wreck invaded his mind. Memories of being rescued by a kind hand mixed with the feeling of freezing cold and dimming green eyes were replaced by the warmth he felt now with his hand on her heart. He couldn’t help but believe that the ring, and thus he as well, had a hand in saving her.

He watched as her eyes fluttered open, his heart beating faster in sync with her own. Green and frightened eyes skipped around the cottage, trying to make sense of her surroundings before they landed on his. There was only a moment before recognition filled them and her lips parted on a sigh. Their hearts calmed as one.

"Thank you." He smiled, a small, tired smile but nevertheless, sincere.

"For what?" Her voice was raspy from disuse.

"You saved me…" She looked away from him for an instant, he saw her remember the attack. "You saved me," he repeated, wanting to make sure she felt his gratitude.

Her smile was demure as her hand slowly found his. Her mouth opened and closed multiple times and Killian felt his heartbeat pick up once more in expectation. A million thoughts that he couldn’t quite understand swirled in her eyes, probably much more than she wished.

Belatedly, he sensed Henry beginning to move by his side. A shout of surprise filled the quiet room when the boy realized Emma was awake. The bed quickly became a tangle of limbs as Henry excitedly climbed towards her. 

Their hands separated at some point and he immediately felt the loss. Loss that quickly turned to affection as he watched Henry grip Emma tightly, her eyes closed as her nose buried itself in his dark hair, a relieved and happy smile on both their faces.

"I'm so happy you're okay, Emma!" The boy's voice was muffled from where he huddled against Emma's body.

---

An earth-shaking scream echoed through the room as all of the non-magical mirrors shattered around Regina. 

"Huntsman!"

She needed not to yell for him as he had not left the room. But that's not what he was focused on - his eyes stayed on his beating heart in her hand even as she gestured towards the very much alive hooded woman in the mirror.

"She lives…" Regina's low tone was perhaps more deadly than her screams.

The Huntsman’s shoulders untensed. For so long, he had been at the Queen’s hand, he had hoped her evil hadn’t corrupted him. He was at peace, a life was spared in the woman’s quest for revenge.

Regina took no time squeezing his heart in her grasp, the pain bringing him to his knees. He tried to silence his pain, not wanting to give her the satisfaction.

Unexpectedly, a growl echoed through the room. The pain in his chest stopped altogether and his eyes opened. A familiar large wolf jumped toward the Queen, his heart falling from her grasp. It was only out of instinct that Graham caught the glowing red heart before it hit the floor. He rose to his feet and followed the wolf out of the castle before the Queen was able to return to her senses.

The evil queen’s enraged screeches echoed from the castle as they reached the forest.

---

Henry’s initial shout of joy brought Elsa and Anna into the room. Elsa was already ready for the day, while her sister drug her feet behind her, her face barely visible around the mountain of blankets she carried.

"She's awake, Elsa, she's awake!" Henry tumbled out of the bed, full of energy and grabbed the woman's hand.

"I can see that." Elsa smiled patiently as she followed him to the bed.

Killian stood from the bed, holding out his hands to help Emma. He couldn’t help but worry that she was still too weak. Her smile was thankful as she took his hand. He could swear his fingers felt electric under her touch.

"Emma, this is Elsa and her sister, Anna." 

Emma's hand left his and he clenched and unclenched his fist, hoping to hold on to the feel of hers for a bit longer. She smiled uncomfortably towards the two strangers.

"I'm glad to know you're feeling better," Elsa said with a smile.

"Yeah, you were sleeping forever!" Henry teased as he came to Emma's side holding her hand.

"Oh, I'm sorry…" Emma's eyes widened as she turned towards Elsa.

"No need to apologize,” the woman assured her. “It was our pleasure to help you." 

"Yeah, we don't really have any visitors," Anna grumbled, standing close to her sister.

"Oh…" Emma turned to Killian in search of an explanation, but he merely shrugged.

"Killian slept a lot as well," Henry informed Emma with an overly loud fake whisper. She turned worried eyes towards him as he scratched behind his ear.

It was obvious she wanted to say something. She probably wanted to chastise him for pushing himself to utter exhaustion. But it wasn’t as if he would have allowed her to suffer longer, simply so he could rest. But before she could, Elsa interrupted, clearly trying to appease the situation.

"You must be hungry."

"Yes!" Anna nearly shouted impatiently, prompting a laugh out of Elsa.

"I meant our guests."

"Oh, yeah… well… them, too."

Henry and Killian both joined in before Killian turned towards Emma. He was just in time to see her shoulders relax, her whole posture calming as he watched. The sisters, as isolated as they seem to be, were wonderful hostesses and made them feel quite comfortable in this new and strange environment. They shared a small feast with the newcomers. 

Henry quickly stretched over the table for a slice of a wonderful-looking cake. His excited lunge almost tipped over a glass bottle of water. Emma's fast reflexes managed to stop the wobbling bottle.

"Henry!" she scolded, her apprehensively tight lips visible due to the removal of her mask.

"Apologies, he's young," Killian directed towards the two siblings before turning a stern look at the boy.

"Yeah, sorry," Henry slowly sat back on his chair with a frown. "It just all looks so good." 

"Thank you for apologizing, Henry." Elsa gave him a soft smile. "But as you see, no harm done." 

"Here," Anna said, extending a big slice of cake on a plate. "You get the biggest piece." 

"Thank you so much!" Henry excitedly shot a wide smile towards the young redhead before diving into the slice in front of him.

"Thank you," Killian directed towards the sisters.

"No need to worry," Elsa smiled. "Your son has much better manners than my sister." Her smile turned teasing as she glanced at her sister.

"Hey!" Anna complained half-heartedly.

"Oh, he's not our son."

"They are not my parents."

"We're not related." 

Everyone spoke at the same time before silence settled over the table. Elsa looked between them, surprised, while Anna stopped with a fork in her mouth, glancing between them. Henry looked between Killian and Emma as the two of them tried to avoid everyone's gaze.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to assume," Elsa broke the silence with a calm expression. "I just thought…"

"We are on a quest," Henry began, ignoring the looks from the silent couple. "They are…” Henry trailed away, his brow furrowed, and looked at them, a question in his eyes. “Uh… sorta… my parents? Except, not really?" 

Henry's confusion broke the tension as Killian chuckled and Emma followed. Elsa and Anna followed their lead, relaxing as well.

"What he means to say," Killian said, ruffling Henry's hair who pushed away his hand even with a smile on his face. "is that we are on our way to take him to another realm."

"So I guess you could say, we are escorting him," Emma added with an amused smile at Henry.

Killian laughed, turning his head to Emma. While before he had considered her distracting with an uncovered mouth, he had no words now that he saw her smile. All he could think of was how he could make her smile again, how he could make her laugh.

"Grand Pabbie told us," Elsa began, her tone more nervous as she held everyone's attention, "that someone would appear at our door. Someone we would have to help and that would help us in return."

"Yeah, he told us of the Heart of the Truest Believer," Anna interjected with a mouth full of bread. 

There was a tense silence at the table. Despite Killian's trust of the Rock Trolls, they didn't know the sisters' intentions. He could see Emma hold on tighter to the knife.

"Grand Pabbie helped us heal Emma," Henry reminded him as well as actually informing Emma. "He knew about me."

Killian observed the two women in front of him at Henry's confession of possessing the Heart of the Truest Believer. He could see the confirmation of her suspicions in Elsa's face while Anna seemed to let her sister take control of the conversation, content to focus on her food.

"We assumed so," Elsa nodded, smiling reassuringly at them. "No one comes to our door besides the rock trolls." 

"What are your intentions with the Heart of the Truest Believer?" Emma asked, her tone formal even as he noticed her fist clench even tighter on the knife.

"We just want your help."

"With what?"

"Our kingdom," Anna answered, before looking at Elsa for permission. "We were run out of Arendelle by that stupid Hans." 

"Anna," Elsa said calmly, her hand over her sister's. "A neighboring prince with an inflated sense of his own importance used a power he didn’t understand to take our kingdom. And he succeeded."

There was anger and frustration in her voice by the end and he could swear the temperature in the small cottage dropped twenty degrees, chilling his blood and raising the hairs on his arms. Anna's hand clenched over her sisters and the room warmed instantly.

"You have magic," Henry interrupted the moment, leaning forward on the table. 

Elsa turned a look towards Anna who smiled reassuringly. The blonde then turned back towards them, both her hands turned up while her eyes closed. It wasn't long before small snowflakes began pouring from the ceiling. He heard Emma's sharp intake of breath and Henry's excited squeal. He was torn - he felt like he should be more worried over encountering another magic user, but the fact was, he was nothing but impressed at the show of magic.

"That is amazing!" Henry exclaimed.

Elsa grinned as her eyes opened. She closed her hands effectively ending the falling snow. 

"If you have magic, how did you lose your kingdom?" Emma asked with a frown.

"Have you ever heard of the tale of the Snow Queen?" Elsa asked.

The three of them shook their heads.

"Oh, can I tell it?" Anna asked excitedly, not waiting for her sister's answer. "She was an Arendellian Queen that had ice powers and used it to vanquish all her enemies, but she couldn’t control her powers and she hurt her loved ones driving her to madness. She was trapped in a magical urn to protect the kingdom." 

Killian and Emma couldn't help but look at Elsa, the similarities not lost on them. 

"She was said to have ruled before we were born," Elsa explained. "My powers caused a lot of apprehension at first from our people. But, I have control of them… my powers, I mean, and after I protected our kingdom from an enemy attack, they accepted me as their queen."

"How does this Snow Queen fit into all this?" Emma asked.

"The prince we mentioned, Hans, released the Snow Queen from her prison and took control of Arendelle with her by his side," Anna answered.

"Her power was too strong," Elsa continued. "We had no choice but to run."

"If you guys joined us, I'm sure we'd be able to defeat her," Anna concluded, looking at their visitors.

"Yes, we'll help you!" Henry interjected with a wide expectant smile towards Killian and Emma.

Magic. After a decade keeping as far away from it as possible, he had been thrown right in the middle of it. Not only was he traveling with magic users but he was also being thrown into a battle to save someone's kingdom from another magical being. What had his life become?

Henry took their silence as a negative response. "We have to help them!" His eyes were pleading as they looked between his two companions.

"It's alright if you don't want to take the risk, it isn't your responsibility," Elsa acknowledged.

"We'll help you." Emma took control, locking eyes with him. "They helped us, now we help them." Her tone was confident, her eyes matching the conviction in her words.

Killian nodded after a moment. "Cygnus directed us this way." 

Henry's whoop of celebration broke the tension of the moment as Anna joined him. Elsa shot them a thankful look and nodded her acceptance. He was sure this was the right thing to do, he just hoped he would live long enough to witness their victory.

---

After the meal, Elsa took Emma towards a separate room to bathe - both Killian and Henry agreed that she should go first. While she was gone, they took the opportunity to see Roger as they stored their things in the satchels. 

"Lad, I- I want to apologize for how I behaved during the journey. I-"

"I understand, Killian. You care for her, too." Henry looked at him with a smile as he stroked the horse's head.

Killian was speechless, but he couldn’t deny it. He thought he’d been more circumspect about his attraction to Emma, but he obviously hadn’t been if Henry could see it.

"I care for you, too, you know," Killian said instead, a subtle apology for his behavior at the table.

"I know that, too." Henry grinned, making Killian laugh.

"Go inside and bathe," Killian instructed, hoping for a few moments with his thoughts. 

Henry nodded, taking a step towards the exit of the stable before he halted. Without warning, Henry's body collided with Killian's in a tight hug.

"Thank you for taking care of us, Killian." Henry’s words were muffled against his chest as his arms wrapped around the boy.

"You're quite welcome, my boy," he replied, his voice quiet, full of emotion.

Henry turned a bright smile towards the older man before he rushed towards the cottage.

Maybe his situation wasn't as bad as he thought, even with the constant battles he was being volunteered for. Maybe seeing Henry's smile was enough. Maybe fighting alongside Emma was enough. Maybe he should admit that he cared for them. Maybe.

Roger's head bumped into his back, interrupting his thoughts. He turned to the animal with a smile.

"Guess it's time to play the hero," Killian smiled, patting the horse's head. "What do you think?" 

Roger knickered in agreement and Killian chuckled. Maybe it would all be alright.

---

Arriving back at the cottage, Killian found Anna and Henry in excited conversation, talking of their adventures and telling stories. Elsa and Emma were in much quieter conversation as they prepared provisions for the journey. They really were wonderful hosts.

Killian left them to their preparations and made use of the metal tub of warm water in the back of the cottage. After such a cold environment, the warm bath was incredibly comforting. After scrubbing himself down he donned his clothes and looked around the room. An assortment of scattered papers on a nearby table caught his eye. He shouldn't, he knew he shouldn’t… it wasn't his room and he definitely shouldn't look over personal items, but something drew him in, something he couldn’t explain.

Drawings. Some abstract, blue cold lines overtaken by red. Others clearly depicted a castle, a cold room, a summer garden with beautiful flowers. 

And then he saw them. Familiar blue eyes. Eyes set in a cold blue canvas, in warm red lines. There were so many of them, in different styles, in different colours. And then he saw his face. Clear lines on an old canvas. He could see every curl in his hair, the warmth in his blue eyes, the caring smile on his lips. After a decade without him, he was finally face to face with his brother - his brother as a young man, when they were still indentured, but perfectly recognizable.

Killian startled as the door opened, but he was much too slow turning his eyes towards the blonde woman. There wasn’t time to pretend he hadn't just been looking through her drawings. He didn’t really want to.

"I came to see if you were alright." Elsa's voice was quiet, her eyes stuck on the drawing in his hand, her hand still on the doorknob.

"Did you draw these?" His voice matched hers, unwilling to break such a delicate moment with accusations.

She took a few steps closer to the table, the door left a few inches open. Her eyes never left the drawing in his hand even as she stood on the opposite side of the table. She nodded.

He carefully put it down as if it would disappear at any moment.

"Who was he?" Killian asked her in a whisper, even if he already knew the answer.

"I didn’t know his name," Elsa answered. "That was my first drawing of him."

"Who was he?" he repeated, his voice more sure, more desperate.

"A long time ago, when I was much younger, I used to escape from the castle with Anna," she began, her eyes on the many drawings on the table. "We used to play by the shore. During the summer, I would freeze the water so we could skate on it. Anna loved it.” Elsa’s eyes were far away, lost in the memory. "One of those days of summer, my powers failed me. Anna was moving too fast and I couldn't keep up. She fell in the water. I screamed for someone to help, anyone. We couldn't swim, I couldn't help her. And then I heard someone jump in the water. I saw him reach my sister, bringing her to me. I pulled her into my arms, but she was having trouble breathing. I needed to take her back to the castle. I thanked him and he smiled. But before I could say anything else, someone shouted for him and he was gone.”

"Seeing the danger I posed to my sister threw me into a difficult time. My powers were out of control. The only thing that helped was to draw. I drew him, I drew all of this,” she said, motioning around the table. “That, along with Anna's help, brought back my control. I wish I could have thanked him."

Killian's heart was about to pound out of his chest. He remembered that day.

"He was my brother," Killian said after a moment of silence. He heard Elsa's sharp breath and felt her eyes on him but he couldn't take his eyes off the drawing, off his brother's eyes. "I saw him jump off of the ship. I was so confused, I couldn't understand why he would do that when he knew we would get in trouble.

"The Captain heard the splash and thought Liam was trying to escape… which was ridiculous… he wouldn't have gone without me," he continued, taking a deep breath. "I can still feel the dagger the Captain held at my throat. That was why he left so fast, he wanted to protect me. It didn't really work, though, we both got some thorough lashes that day."

"I don't understand."

"We were indentured servants all throughout our childhood and teen years," Killian explained. "The Captain owned us and he thought Liam was trying to escape."

"I-I'm so sorry." Elsa laid her hand on his in comfort.

"It's in the past, lass," Killian smiled a small, reassuring smile. "I never thought I'd see his face again."

They both took a moment to look at the drawing, letting the silence comfort them. Killian freed his hand to run it carefully through the lines.

"What was his name?" Elsa whispered. 

"Liam." 

"Liam." Elsa smiled. "That's a beautiful name."

Killian smiled back with a nod. He saw Elsa lick her lips in a nervous gesture and he anticipated her next question.

"What happened to him?"

Killian cleared his throat, hoping to control his emotions. "There was a storm. I was the only survivor."

He felt more than saw Elsa move around the table. Despite his efforts, there were tears in his eyes and he finally let them spill as he felt Elsa's arms around him.

"He would be proud of you, I'm sure," she whispered.

He couldn’t help the watery chuckle. "I hope so." 

An understanding smile passed between them as they backed away from each other.

"We're ready!" Henry's excited call from the door broke the moment. Killian caught a glimpse of dark green from behind Henry. "Is everything okay?"

"Of course, my boy." Killian smiled reassuringly. "Time for an adventure, right?"

"Yeah!"

The child was full of excitement as he returned to the other two women.

"You should have this." In Elsa's hand was the drawing of his brother. "And you can't refuse, I'm the queen."

Her eyes were full of the emotion from their conversation but a teasing smile lifted the corner of her lips.

Killian chuckled. "Of course. Who am I to defy royalty?"

She joined him with her laughter. He carefully took the treasure from her hand, looking at it for a moment before following the creases of the paper to fold it before placing it in the inside pocket of his coat.

"Thank you, Elsa." His voice was quiet but there was no mistaking the emotion behind his words.

She nodded in response. With a deep breath, she took a step towards the door. "They should be waiting for us."

"Yes, let's go." 

Leaving the room, he found the other women all ready for the journey. Anna’s sword was by her side, and as opposed to her sister, seemed to be a lot more prepared for the cold weather. He was saddened to note that Emma had put her mask back over her mouth, despite the fact that with the cold and possible battle before them, it would probably be much more effective there.

---

With their things already on Roger's back, they started walking back down to the Rock Troll valley. Apparently the news of their allyship with the Arendellian royalty had already reached their stone ears since their path was now lined with cheering trolls. Henry obviously enjoyed it despite the discomfort of the others.

Standing at the end of the valley, Grand Pabbie brought them to a halt before ushering Anna away from the group. Turning towards Elsa, she shared their confused expression. Those same expressions only became more pronounced when Anna returned without any sort of explanation.

"Let's go kick some princely ass!" she cried in response to their confused looks, as if the only thing the group needed was some motivation. 

Having no choice but to trust Anna and Grand Pabbie, they put the puzzling conference behind them and continued on their way. They could still hear the crowd of trolls cheering them on for a few miles after exiting the valley.

It wasn’t long after that they could see figures in the distance, the dark of their armor contrasting with the snowy landscape. The army made no move toward their small party, allowing them to approach. They’d obviously been expected. It only took a few minutes for them to arrange themselves at the edge of the improvised battlefield.

"I'm so happy you finally showed up!" A strong voice sounded from the group ahead of them. It came from the only figure on top of a horse, their red hair clashing against the gaudy crown he wore upon his head. Killian had to assume that it was the self-proclaimed king- former prince- that took the throne from the two women beside him.

Beside him, there was a woman dressed in a white dress, not suitable for such weather. It was obviously the Snow Queen and that she shared not only Elsa's ice powers, but her comfort with the cold weather, as well. 

Behind them, two rows of five foot soldiers stood with weapons at the ready. It was safe to say that Hans didn’t think much of the threat the displaced royals posed, not with the Snow Queen by his side, anyway. But Killian was confident, they had succeeded so far.

"We thought we'd give you time to look your best, Hans," Anna jeered from his side. "Looks like we should have taken a little longer… well, maybe a lot longer."

Henry tried to disguise his laughter with a cough even if he wasn't fooling anyone. Killian didn't have experience in military battles, but he was quite sure it did not involve throwing mocking remarks between armies.

"You think you're funny, but I am the one with the crown," Hans grinned as he sat up straighter on his horse. "And you aren’t getting it back."

"That crown looks stupid on your stupid head!" Anna shouted back with a satisfied grin, making even Elsa hide a laugh.

"You're at a disadvantage!" Hans' face twisted in anger. He probably expected to be seen as intimidating and was failing miserably. "You're going to lose!"

"Enough talking!" Elsa interrupted, taking a step forward. "We're taking back what's ours."

Killian obviously couldn’t see the faces of the soldiers through their helmets, but he had learned years ago how to read a person's body language. It had saved him many times over. The army behind Hans was uncomfortable, unwilling - they were being forced to stand against their true sovereigns.

"Close your eyes and feel the ground," Henry's quiet words towards Emma just reached Killian’s ears. "Feel where their feet stand on the ground and focus."

From the corner of his eye, he could see Henry reach for Emma's hand. Before he could figure out what was happening, a bright wave of magic passed harmlessly through their party. Once it reached the open field, it began to stir the snow on the ground, startling the enemy army. 

"Stand your ground!" Hans shouted over the rumbling sound the wave made as it approached them. 

Killian watched as the soldiers raised their swords in front of them and he saw the Snow Queen raise both arms in front of her. The wave of magic created by Emma and Henry passed by Hans and the Snow Queen harmlessly before hitting the soldiers. They all fell to the ground - completely immobile. Even if he didn't already trust Emma, he would know that it wasn't a deadly attack.

"I see you wanted to make the fight more fair," Hans grinned, kicking his heel into the horse’s side for it to begin moving slowly before turning back to the woman next to him. "Go on, show them what we can do!"

Killian's grip on his sword tightened as he watched the Snow Queen raise her arms once more. The tension rose in his allies as they prepared a defense. But no one could have predicted that from a tornado-like flurry of snow, a behemoth of a snow monster would stomp out, letting out a bellow that shook the ground.

"Why do they always have to bring out these mountain-sized monsters?" Killian bemoaned as he unsheathed his sword. He and Henry shared an amused look, even if the concern in their eyes tamed their merriment.

The monster was still for a moment, apparently awaiting instructions. Hans' face could only be described as victorious. He raised his arms up, triumphantly. 

Killian heard Anna gasp from behind him. Turning to her, he saw her wide eyes focused on Hans. Before he could ask her about it, Elsa turned to their group.

"Emma, Henry, keep the monster away from us. I will deal with the Snow Queen. Ann-"

"I will help Killian with Hans," Anna quickly interrupted, standing closer to Killian.

"I thought we were done talking!" Hans called with a grin towards the opposing group. He nodded towards the Snow Queen, and as she raised her arms, the monster began stomping towards them.

With a nod of acknowledgement towards the true queen, Henry and Emma began rushing towards the monster, white energy in their hands. At the same time, a beam of light blue magic exploded from Elsa’s hands directed towards the Snow Queen. It looked powerful and Killian felt their small circle tremble with the force of her magic. It should have been strong enough to overpower just about anyone, but unfortunately the Snow Queen was not just anyone. Her responding beam of white magic clashed against Elsa's, the trembling aftershock making all of them stumble.

Trusting Elsa to hold her own against the other magic user, Killian looked towards Hans. The wannabe king's face was almost purple with anger - clearly he had expected to win this battle with barely any effort. Killian suspected that his successful overthrow of Arendelle had gone to his head. 

"Killian," Anna approached him. "I need to get close to Hans, can you knock him off his horse?"

Killian smirked. "It would be my pleasure."

He gave a sharp whistle towards Roger. As he approached, Killian swung into the saddle with a practiced move. Hans, noticing his approach, turned his horse towards Killian. They both unsheathed their weapons as they neared each other.

The three-part battle roared in the clearing. Killian heard the growls of the giant snow monster to his left, and felt the ground rumble with the monster's every step. The air around them sparked with energy making the hair on Killian’s neck stand at attention, and the temperature dropped as the icy beams of magic clashed against each other. But he couldn’t worry about any of that now, he had to focus on his own part of the battle - Hans and the sword he wielded. 

Killian met Hans' attacks strike for strike, desperate to protect his companions. He had grown to care for the child and the hooded warrior, as well as for the young Arendelle royalty.

Suddenly, a snowball hit his adversary in the face, a shout of victory sounding from behind Killian. Surprise and then outrage replaced the frustration in Hans' face. Killian grinned, knowing Anna threw the snowball. Wasting no time, Killian kicked his opponent right off of the horse. 

Anna ran towards them as fast as she could as Killian dropped down from Roger. Acting fast before Hans gained his feet, he disarmed the usurper just as Anna reached them, her momentum when she slammed against Hans, sending him face-first to the ground once more. 

"Hold him down!" Anna cried and Killian moved quickly to do as he was told.

"Let go of me, how dare you?!" Hans' demands were ignored as Killian dropped a knee onto the man's back and held his wrists behind his back.

Killian looked towards the battlefield and was glad to see both Emma and Henry alive and well and their enemy reduced to half its size. Killian watched curiously as Anna reached for the false king’s wrist, ignoring his yells of outrage.

"Aha!" Anna exclaimed as she grabbed hold of Hans' right wrist. Killian watched as she unknotted a pale yellow ribbon.

"What are you doing?! St-" Han's shouts were interrupted as Killian pushed his head into the snow. Not for long, unfortunately, but enough to silence him for the moment.

In the silence, their attention was captured by Elsa and the Snow Queen. Their beams of magic had stopped, the older woman's eyes focused on Anna's hands - or more specifically, on the ribbon in her hands.

There was silence in the clearing as Anna slowly approached their enemy, her eyes on the Snow Queen's, whose focus was on the ribbon.

"I was told this was yours." Anna spoke in a soft voice. Killian noticed Elsa slowly following her sister, most likely hoping to protect the young princess.

Despite Anna’s non-threatening posture, a flurry of snow formed around the two women. He heard Elsa call for her sister. He wanted to go and help but he had to keep Hans in place. The defeated prince's mocking laughter was interrupted yet again by another face full of snow. He watched as Emma held on to Henry's shoulders keeping him protected from the growing tornado of snow.

Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Anna stood, alive and well, her hands holding onto the Snow Queen's, who held Anna’s just as tightly, a soft smile on her face. 

Anna turned to them, her own smile wide. "I told you Hans would lose!" she announced victoriously, the Snow Queen trying and failing to smother a chuckle at Anna's comment.

His relief was like a weight off his shoulders as he watched Elsa embrace Anna, once her younger sister stepped back from the Snow Queen. But that distraction was all Hans needed to throw Killian off him and charge against the sisters, dagger in hand.

Magic flew but none hit their intended target, until finally a bright white ball of magic hit his arm, making him drop his weapon. The Snow Queen's hand was raised.

"I am the rightful king of Aren-" Hans screamed in fury.

Before any of them could do anything, Anna's fist connected with the angry prince, shocking him to silence.

"Knock it off, Hans." Anna grinned, shaking her hand from the contact. "You lost."

"May I?" The Snow Queen's voice was calm, even as she stared daggers into her former ally. 

Elsa looked concerned but there was nothing but confidence in Anna's expression when she nodded. They all watched as their former enemy raised her hand to Hans and froze him in place.

"Not to worry," the Snow Queen assured them, the tone of her voice regal and polished, "He will thaw in a few days." 

Anna visibly relaxed with the woman's explanation, and the rest of their company followed her lead. Emma even removed her mask.

"Then we should take him to the dungeons and warn his brothers of his prison sentence," Elsa said, a question within her crystal blue eyes.

"Oh!" Anna seemed to suddenly remember that there was information that needed to be shared with the rest of her group. "This is Ingrid, she's our aunt!"

There was stunned silence among them. The Snow Queen's smile was sheepish but emotional as she looked at the two princesses. Killian looked towards Emma and Henry, who seemed to be as shocked as him. 

Killian cleared his throat. "I'll just prepare our new snowman for the journey." 

"We'll help!" Emma quickly added, grabbing Henry's hand to bring him towards Roger. They all wanted to give the Arendelle women some space, even as they were insanely curious about the story behind Ingrid.

While Emma helped Killian drag the frozen Hans towards Roger, Henry moved toward the women instead, unable to contain his curiosity and listening to their conversation.

"Are you hurt?" Killian asked as he handed a rope to Emma.

"No." Emma looked at him, her eyes locking with his for a second before she returned her attention to their task. "Just tired. Using magic is exhausting." He couldn't help but chuckle. 

"Hopefully, we'll be able to rest after this," Killian said, holding up Hans' legs for Emma to pass the rope under. She smiled and his heart skipped a beat as he smiled back.

They made quick work wrapping the ropes around the block of ice. Henry, apparently having heard enough of the royal’s conversation, joined them jumping up and down in excitement, obviously not nearly as tired as Emma. Killian expected the boy to crash once the adrenaline was gone.

"Ingrid is their aunt!" Henry excitedly recounted. "Hans made a deal with a dark wizard to get control of Arendelle and they gave him control of Ingrid! Apparently, Elsa and Anna's mother thought her sister had died but now they are reunited! The ribbon was what was controlling her and Anna released her!"

"Breathe, my boy." Killian smiled.

The child finally took a break to breathe under the amused looks of Emma and Killian. They both moved to tie the ropes to Roger's saddle, the boy following behind, still too thrilled with their circumstances to calm down.

"But isn't it great?! A happy ending!" Henry continued, approaching Roger to pet him and feed him. "What about you guys? What are your happy endings?"

Killian's hands stilled at the same time Emma's shoulders tensed.

"My happy ending," Killian answered, his attention on Roger making sure all of their provisions were safe, "will be to finally get revenge on the monster who took my hand."

"Oh." Henry looked down for a second, a frown on his face. A weight descended on Killian's chest at having put the frown on his face, but he deserved the truth. "What about you, Emma?"

Killian watched as Henry looked at Emma, frown still in place but unmistakable hope in his eyes. He looked at Emma who kept her eyes on her already tightly-knotted rope, as she pulled her mask back over her mouth.

"I don't believe in happy endings." 

Killian watched Henry's frown deepen. Their words had made it clear that the adults' lives hadn't been idyllic and for them to have the same sort of hope Henry was able to foster effortlessly was difficult, if not impossible, but it didn't stop Killian from feeling guilt over crushing the boy's heart.

"Will you be accompanying us back to the castle?" Elsa's voice broke the silent moment, the concerned frown on her face showed she was aware of the tension. "It should be a day's journey."

Killian managed a small reassuring smile towards the blonde woman. "Aye, we would be honored."

"Are you sure you can trust her?" Emma's voice was firm, her eyes on their new companion.

"We can." Elsa's voice matched Emma's, tamed by the soft smile on her lips. "She's family." Emma nodded.

"Shall we go?" Killian asked, placing his hand on Henry's shoulder.

The child looked up at him and Killian attempted his best reassuring smile. He could feel the boy's shoulders gain some firmness and he nodded. It wasn't solved, he didn't expect it to be, but it would be okay. He lifted the boy onto the horse, taking his place next to Roger's head, leading him by the reins.

Killian watched, through the corner of his eyes, as Emma handed Henry a treat from their satchel - an olive branch of sorts, he expected - before joining him on the other side of Roger.

---

They walked through the afternoon. There wasn't a quiet moment during the journey with the high emotions and reunited family and adventures to retell. The sun was setting when they decided to camp for the night.  

They had found a nearby river to fill their canteens and shelter from the cold weather. The stars were high in the sky when they finally settled around the fire Emma lit.

Despite the earlier tension, Henry settled comfortably between Killian and Emma. They had huddled in front of a tree for warmth, justifying their close proximity as protection from the cold. Thankfully, Elsa and Ingrid really didn't seem to be bothered by the cold and there were more than enough blankets for everyone. 

"What is that?" Henry asked quietly.

Killian looked down to where Henry was pointing. His coat gaped open and the edge of the sheet Elsa had given him peeked out of the inside pocket. There was a smile on his face as he removed it. His eyes found Elsa's on the other side of the fire before the blonde returned to her conversation with her family. 

"This," Killian began, opening the paper carefully, "was my brother."

"The one that gave you the ring?"

Killian noticed Emma’s eyes on him as he handed the drawing to Henry, pleased to see him be as gentle as Killian had been, clearly understanding the drawing's importance. Emma subtly raised her hand to her chest, to the place he suspected the ring laid.

"Aye, his name was Liam."

"Wow," Henry breathed. "You have the same eyes."

Killian smiled. The drawing was as close to a perfect rendition of his brother as could be. They shared their mother's eyes even though Killian's face shape was closer to his father's.

"What happened?" Emma's voice surprised him, so soft he almost thought he imagined it.

But she was looking at him with understanding, like she already knew the story wasn't a happy one. Also like she was surprised she had actually asked the question.

Killian took a deep breath. It still hurt to remember and as much as he didn't want to retell it, he felt like Emma should know. He wanted Emma to know.

"We were aboard a ship during a storm," Killian began and his heart filled to the brim when he felt Henry inch closer to him. "Our Captain was a fool and forced us to keep on course. He believed the rumors about a jewel that you would find at the eye of the storm. All it did was kill everyone on board, I was the only survivor."

"You told me." Henry's voice was quiet, to match their quiet setting. "You said that Liam gave you the ring and that it was the only thing you had of your family."

He should have expected a question like that. Henry had been kind enough to not ask before when they spoke of the ring, but now, he wanted to share it. 

"Aye," Killian sighed. "My mother passed when I was very young. I remember very little of her, mostly her smile and her eyes and the lullaby she would sing us at night. And the ring on her finger."

"And your father?" Henry frowned, apparently expecting something equally as sad. Emma's eyes were downcast, obviously thinking the same.

"He sold us when Liam was around your age. I was a few years younger." Killian's tone was resigned, accustomed to the anger he felt towards his father. "That's why we were on that ship."

"But- But why would he sell you?" There was a clear tone of outrage and hopelessness in Henry's voice. That hurt more than remembering the people he lost.

"I stopped asking myself that a long time ago, lad."

"But he was your father." Killian's heart broke when he saw the shine in Henry's eyes.

The same expression, the same tone of voice, the same words - watching Henry now was like looking at himself as a child. How many times had Killian asked himself the very same questions?

"I know, my boy." Killian wrapped his arm tighter around the boy, trying to provide the comfort he had wanted back then. "My brother used to say that a man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets. I choose to believe that my father's selfish ways got him exactly what he deserved. That's how I make my peace with it."

There was silence in their little huddle. He felt Emma's warmth closer than before; she had moved closer to them. Despite the heavy moment, he felt lighter with that knowledge.

"I never knew my parents." Emma's quiet voice broke the moment and Killian felt Henry's shoulders tense up again. "I was abandoned and ended up in Neverland."

"What's Neverland?" Henry whispered.

"They say Neverland is a paradise, a place where lost ones can have anything they can imagine." Emma's voice was bitter. "In reality, it's a jungle you can never escape from, ruled by a power-hungry demon."

"How did you escape?" Killian asked.

"No one ages in Neverland," she began, her eyes on the fire but leagues away. "That's what Pan tells you. But I started to notice how, when the other children began growing, they would disappear. So, when I came of age, I knew I had to leave."

"What happened to the others?"

Emma turned to the boy at his question at the same time Killian did, her mouth open in hesitation. They shared a quick look, Killian reading the truth in her eyes. He knew she was wary of telling the boy the truth and he didn’t blame her one bit.

"I don't know," Emma muttered in a half-lie. "They simply disappeared from the island."

"Is that when you met Tinkerbell?"

Emma sighed, glad that Henry dropped the subject. "Yeah, she helped me get out of Neverland and told me about you."

"So," Killian started, hoping to relieve the tension. "Is Neverland responsible for that fetching outfit of yours?"

Emma let out a surprised laugh while Henry frowned in confusion at the strange word. Her mask was off again, her hood loose on her head leaving hints of her blonde hair in view. 

"Actually, yes." Her hands ran down her sleeve. "We didn't have names in Neverland, we all looked the same. Pan kept us covered to keep us the same. He only wanted to see our eyes, we were to never let anyone see our faces."

In the subsequent silence, Killian thought about the times she had allowed them to see her face. The trust inherent in the action filled his heart. How did these two strangers become so important to him?

"How did you know your name was Emma, then?"

Emma smiled at the boy's question. She opened the satchel by her side, removing something small and soft and weathered. "Because of this."

She opened the torn piece of a blanket on her lap, her thumb caressing the embroidery of her name in purple yarn. "I have had this with me since I was a baby, the only thing my parents gave me. Tinkerbell saved it for me. We had to cut it so I could travel with it.

"All the other children had names of animals. Pan called me a Duckling when I finally joined the Lost Ones and when I grew up, I chose to be a Swan."

"And you became our Swan," Henry added, leaving Killian's side to stretch his arms around her.

Killian smiled, his hand caressing the boy's hair in pride. He watched as Emma's smile reached her watery eyes. Her arms went around Henry tightly.

"Thank you, Henry," she whispered, dropping her cheek to his head for an instant.

Their arms loosened around each other, neither ready to let the other one go. Killian watched as Henry licked his lip and kept his eyes on the piece of blanket on Emma's lap.

"I don't remember my parents," Henry said quietly. "I think I remember their voices, I think they loved me but I don't remember them. The fairies told me that they were gone but they never told me how or why. They just kept telling me that everything was as it should be and to have hope."

Killian frowned, Emma matching him. All this mystery behind Henry was catching up to the boy. He deserved answers. Answers neither of them were able to give him.

"I know that it isn't easy to have hope." Henry spoke in a low voice, his face hidden from them while his fingers gently caressed the tattered blanket. "Growing up with the fairies was easy and safe. I didn't have friends or much to worry about. These past days have really been a change.”

"I know you two had very different lives from me. I understand now why happy endings aren't the same for everyone, but," he continued, finally sitting up straight between them, his hands on each adult's arm. "I choose to believe that they are possible and that we will all live happily ever after. Even if you don't, I'll believe it for you."

Henry's eyes were full of determination and hope, the very definition of a Believer. There wasn't much either of them could say and he watched as Emma's eyes shone with the fire's light. Killian moved his arm so that he could hold the boy's hand in a tight grip and he watched as Emma did the same.

Aware that their emotional moment had an audience, Killian looked over at their companions. He should have known not to worry about their judgment of their scene because, as he did, he saw Anna had turned into a pile of blankets sleeping soundly between her sister and aunt. Ingrid and Elsa’s focus was on each other as they talked.

“I think that’s a new one, don’t you think, kid?” Emma’s voice brought his gaze back to her.

Emma had her gaze on the sky and was pointing with her free hand to a specific cluster of stars. Henry’s dark head followed her hand with his eyes, inhaling a surprised breath. Killian caught Emma’s eyes and she grinned at him, mischief shining in her green eyes.

“Can you tell me about those, Killian? Please?” Henry looked back at him with pleading eyes and the beginnings of a pout.

“Who am I to deny such a request?” Killian grinned, his fake put upon tone failing to hit the mark.

Killian sat back against the tree and his smile grew as he felt Henry settle at his side with his eyes back on the sky. Emma mimicked Killian’s position, no longer hiding her interest in the stories he told about the stars.

He looked at the constellation Emma had indicated, trying to remember exactly what he had been told about that one. The stars formed two figures turned to each other. Its position in the Northern sky and the fact that they were upside down told him that the constellation belonged to the Enchanted Forest - the clear skies above allowing them to see them.

“Those stars tell the most famous love story of the Enchanted Forest,” Killian began, his arm on Henry’s head, running his hand through his hair. “It is said that decades ago, a princess ran away from her kingdom after her evil stepmother tried to kill her. She became a bandit who stole from the rich and helped her people. And her people helped her back - she gave them her love and provided for them and they gave her their loyalty and protection in return.”

“And then there was a shepherd who became a prince,” he continued. “After a deal made with a wizard, he took his late twin brother’s place as prince and was arranged to marry a princess from a neighboring kingdom.”

Killian made sure to keep his voice low, hoping to help the boy fall asleep. With his arm, he pulled Henry closer, so the boy could use him as a cushion. He felt the weight of Emma’s body on his arm as she had been leaning against the boy as well.

“They met when the bandit tried to steal from the prince’s carriage. It is said that she punched him on the jaw when he finally caught her.” He heard a breathy laugh from Emma and caught her eye with a smirk. “Did they live happily ever after?” Henry’s mumble from where his head rested made them smile.

“They went through a lot of adventures, fought villains and won, and when the bandit was cursed with eternal sleep, it was the prince’s kiss that woke her. Together, they defeated the bandit’s evil stepmother and became king and queen, ruling side by side.”

Henry’s hum was muffled by Killian’s chest and he turned to Emma, who was still looking at the stars.

“Is he asleep?” Killian whispered to her.

She turned to him with a smile before leaning forward to check Henry’s face.

“Like a rock.” She chuckled, Killian joining her. “You know how to tell a story.”

The corner of his lips rose as he looked up at the stars. “My brother used to tell me stories when we were young. He had to whisper them to me so the other sailors wouldn’t listen.” He continued running his fingers through Henry’s hair. “They helped me sleep so I hoped they would do the same for Henry.”

Killian turned to Emma to find her looking curiously at him. 

“I know I’m not part of some prophecy nor do I have magic,” he confessed, locking eyes with his companion. “But I care for the boy and I will protect him with all I have.”

She smiled. And that smile was new. It was a simple upturn of her lips that made his heart beat so fast he was worried she might hear it.

“I feel the same way,” she whispered, looking down. “He is a special boy and not just because of any prophecy.”

Killian nodded. When her gaze met his again, she appeared rattled, her eyes filled with trepidation and wariness.

“I should check our course,” Killian noted, looking away. He heard her sigh and decided that there had been enough heavy conversation for a night. “Do you mind?” He gestured towards Henry.

“Oh.” Emma reached over to lay a hand on Henry’s head, her hand brushing on his exposed chest and he was certain that the temperature had risen around them about ten degrees.

Taking a steadying breath, Killian focused on his satchel as soon as Henry was lying comfortably on Emma’s chest, his mouth open in sleep. Looking up at the sky, it was easy to identify Cygnus in the middle of the other stars.

He was glad for having the distraction of reading the star and on charting their course so he wouldn’t feel Emma’s gaze on him or on his hand.

“It’s pointing Southwest now, to Misthaven,” he announced with a frown. “It’s taking us back down the map.”

“Why is that so strange?”

“We’ve been to the Enchanted Forest before, that’s where our trip began.” He folded the map to put it back on his satchel. “I told Henry that Cygnus would take anyone to where they were meant to be. I can’t help but see the truth of that.” He nodded towards where Ingrid and Elsa still sat talking quietly.

“Do you think there is something that we need to do in Misthaven then?” Killian noticed how Emma’s arm reflexively held Henry closer.

“I think,” he answered with a reassuring smile, “that we have been victorious so far. If there is one thing I believe in, it’s us.”

“I was tasked to protect him,” Emma reminded him.

“And you will.” His tone was confident, sure.

“You think so?” Her voice turned softer. He heard the surprise and doubt in it and it pained him.

“I’ve yet to see you fail.”

Her eyes searched his. He saw the moment she realized there was no lie in them. His eyes landed on her mouth as she licked her lips, unsure, afraid.

“We should get some rest,” Killian said, hoping to relieve the tension of the moment. He watched as her shoulders deflated. “It’s been a long day.”

Emma nodded. They were silent as they both found more comfortable positions. Henry hummed in displeasure at the disturbance but relaxed soon after. With a nod towards the still awake Arendellians, they fell asleep.

---

In the morning, they were awakened by the sun shining on the snow around them. Killian found his arm around Henry and his hand on Emma’s side. She awoke with Henry comfortably nuzzled against her chest. There was barely any distance between the three of them.

Their eyes met over Henry’s head and he could see panic in her eyes. As quickly and subtly as he could, Killian moved away from them.

“It was a cold night,” he justified, hoping she would know he didn’t think anything of it. Even if the fast beating of his heart reminded him of how he couldn’t lie to himself.

“Yeah,” Emma whispered in reply.

They resolved to let Henry sleep a bit longer. As he stood, he caught Elsa’s eyes as she woke and looked between him and Emma. He tried to remain calm.

“I’m going to fill our canteens,” Killian said, clearing his throat when his voice betrayed his feelings.

“I’ll go with you.” 

Killian thinned his lips in consternation when he heard Elsa’s voice.

They were silent until they reached the river. Killian crouched to fill his group’s canteens before reaching for Elsa’s.

“I assume that,” Elsa began, “just as I was wrong about your relationship to Henry, that there is more than meets the eye about your relationship with Emma?” Her tone was non-judgemental and Killian focused even harder on the water, not meeting her gaze.

“We are simply allies. We want to protect Henry.” Killian’s tone was final but that didn’t seem to impress the Queen.

“That doesn’t mean that you don’t have feelings for her.”

Killian stood up with a sigh. “It doesn’t matter, we have to focus on protecting Henry.”

“Closing your heart isn’t the solution.” Elsa’s voice betrayed that her advice came from her own experience and his shoulders relaxed with that realization.

“We only met a few days ago and I don’t want to frighten her.”

“But you care for her.”

“I- We understand each other,” Killian confessed. He seemed to be doing that a lot. “She’s afraid and, honestly, so am I. As much as I care for her, I don’t want to pressure her.”

Elsa nodded. She understood, he could see it in her expression.

“We aren’t far from the castle. If we leave soon, we should arrive by lunch time.”

He nodded, glad she had changed the subject even as he regretted having to leave them.

“Our course has changed, we won’t be able to accompany you there.”

“Oh?”

“We are headed Southwest, to Misthaven to be more precise.”

Elsa nodded once more. “There is a port not far from here if you keep heading West.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” He bowed his head with a thankful smile. 

“Take care, Killian, I expect to see you and the others again.” He could only nod with a small smile while Elsa took hold of the bottles for her group. “Come, let’s tell the others.”

---

Henry wasn’t shy about sharing his displeasure. Their trio didn’t want to separate from the sisters. 

“But, we were going to Arendelle,” Henry pouted.

“Yes, lad, but we need to follow Cygnus, remember?” Killian’s hand on his head didn’t assuage his grouchiness.

“Yeah, I guess.” 

Emma and Elsa smiled at the boy’s dramatics.

“I trust you will be safe?” Emma asked, glancing briefly towards Ingrid, who’d moved away slightly to give them space, but then looking towards Elsa for confirmation.

“Yes,” Elsa answered emphatically. “We are getting our kingdom back.” 

“I want you to take Roger,” Killian interjected, even if his voice wasn’t completely sure.

“What?” All eyes turned to him in shock.

“Well,” he explained, scratching the back of his ear. “There is the matter of the prisoner,” he said, gesturing toward the still completely frozen prince, “and second, we’d have to come back for him.” 

Elsa smiled and Anna opened her mouth, as if she was going to start saying something before being stopped by her sister. “You three are always welcome in our kingdom.”

He bowed his head towards her. “Thank you.”

“We’re really leaving Roger, too?” Henry looked up at him, his pout even stronger.

“We’ll take great care of him, Henry,” Anna assured him, with a smile.

“Okay.” Henry still didn’t seem happy but he stepped forward to hug Anna, his arms tight around her waist.

Leaving Emma and Henry to say their goodbyes, Killian appreciated the space to say an important goodbye himself.

Reaching the horse, Killian patted his head, his forehead on the horse’s. “Be a good lad for them, alright? I will come back for you, I promise.” 

Roger nodded his head when Killian stepped back. His smile widened when the horse took a step forward to put his head over his owner’s shoulders. Killian’s arms went around the neck of the horse in a hug. “Thank you,” he whispered.

He felt a tug on his trousers. Looking down, Killian saw Henry look up at him. “Can I give him a hug, too?” 

“Of course, lad.” 

It was with a full heart that he watched as Roger did the same to Henry. “Thank you, Roger. I’ll miss you.” 

Henry’s whispers urged him to look away. He found Emma looking at him, her hand on the horse’s back. She smiled, an understanding smile that earned another in return.

They worked together to relieve Roger of the satchels, sharing the load between the two adults even as Henry insisted he could carry something. They ended up entrusting him with the water canteens.

With final hugs and goodbyes, they parted ways with the Arendelle royalty, hoping that they would see each other again soon.

“Where are we going now?” Henry asked from where he walked between the two adults.

“We’re going to Misthaven.”

---

"We are headed Southwest, to Misthaven to be more precise." Killian Jones' voice sounded from the mirror, even as all that was shown was the rippling blue sky overhead.  

"It looks like we have guests to prepare for, mirror…" 

Her grin was wide and dangerous, her hands curled over the balcony’s iron frame as she looked over her deserted kingdom, thoughts of revenge swirling in her head.

#cssns23 #parent for hire #carolina writes #killian jones #captain hook #emma swan #henry mills #captain swan #captainswan #once upon a time #ouat #ouat ff #cs ff #queen elsa #anna #hans #ingrid #all the arendelle folks #saying farewell to roger the horse #really sorry for the hiatus guys

[whatilistenedtoatwork]

From October 16th to October 18th, 2023

16-10-23

GRIZZLY BEAR “Horn Of Plenty”; THE WEDDING PRESENT “Tommy”; GENE VINCENT & THE BLUE CAPS “Gene Vincent & The Blue Caps”; CLIFF RICHARD & THE SHADOWS “The Young Ones”; B.B. KING “Blues In My Heart”; L.L. COOL J “Mama Said Knock You Out”; SONIC YOUTH “Sister”; KRAFTWERK “Tour De France Soundtrack”; GOODIE MOB “Still Standing”; STEVE EARLE & THE DUKES “The Hard Way”; BO DIDDLEY “Bo Diddley”; NEW ORDER “Republic”; SABU “Palo Congo”; CHUCK BERRY “One Dozen Berrys”; NEIL YOUNG & CRAZY HORSE “Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere”; REUBEN WILSON “Set Us Free”

17-10-23

COURTNEY BARNETT “Sometimes I Sit And Think, And Sometimes I Just Sit”; TENGGER CAVALRY “Blood Sacrifice Shaman”; RAY CHARLES “What’d I Say”; SLEATER-KINNEY “One Beat”; SPARKS “Indiscreet”; BATTLEFIELD BAND “Farewell To Nova Scotia”; KRAFTWERK “Computer World”; ROBERT CRAY “I Was Warned”; CHUCK BERRY “Chuck Berry In London”; SUEDE “Suede”; PET SHOP BOYS “Please”; STAN ROGERS “Fogarty’s Cove”; THE VENTURES “Ventures In Space”; THE SHADOWS “The Shadows”; CAMP COPE “Running With The Hurricane”; BUTTHOLE SURFERS “piouhgd”

18-10-23

TAYLOR SWIFT “Reputation”; DIZZY GILLESPIE “Dizzy And Strings”; THE WATERSONS “The Watersons”; TELEVISION PERSONALITIES “They Could Have Been Bigger Than The Beatles”; PINK FLOYD “Meddle”; ROBERT CRAY “Midnight Stroll”; STREETLIGHT MANIFESTO “Everything Goes Numb”; ANGRA “Temple Of Shadows”

[write-r-die]

Prisoner - Part 13

February, 1067

Henry Cavill is a respected Norman baron who has been tasked with finding Lady Thomasin, an ill-tempered Saxon noblewoman, and returning her to London so the king can marry her off to a cruel Norman invader. The two grow close during the long journey, and Henry puts his own life in danger (more than once) to protect the woman he loves.

Masterlist

Thomasin was horribly ill in the morning due to the combination of her courses, sleeplessness, and anxiety. Etheldreda summoned Elaine without needing to be asked. 

“Are you often like this in the early days of your time?” Etheldreda asked when she was sure Thomasin was, for the moment, finished vomiting in a bucket.

“Not often, thank God,” Thomasin croaked. 

There was a knock at the door. A moment later, a very small Elaine came rushing in. 

“Mercia is with me,” Elaine said, following after her miniature. “I hope you don’t mind.”

The little girl looked very much like her mother. Her curly blonde hair was light but still a shade or two darker than Elaine’s straight, pale tresses.

Thomasin did mind but she wasn’t in a place to object.

Elaine removed her satchel and unpacked its contents: around a dozen small jars filled with herbs and flowers. She set a small cauldron of water over the hearth to heat while she muddled peppermint, ginger, and herbs Thomasin did not recognize into a goblet.

The child parked herself beside Thomasin’s bed. “This my doll,” the child said proudly. “Her name Batty.”

“She’s very pretty,” Thomasin said. “Did your mother make her for you?”

“No. It’s present.”

“A gesture of good will from the queen,” Elaine said from the hearth. “It used to belong to one of her daughters.”

“I make her dress. See?” She shoved the poppet straight into Thomasin’s face so she could get a good look at its wrapping. 

“Very pretty,” Thomasin said, carefully pushing it away. It had an odd smell to it. Lavender, Thomasin thought, and perhaps milfoil.

Elaine finished ladling hot water into the goblet of herbs and brought it to Thomasin. “You must wait a little before drinking this.”

“How long?”

“Until the water turns brown.”

Thomasin frowned. “Lovely.”

“You sick?” The child climbed onto the bed beside Thomasin. Thank God Etheldreda had already changed the bedding.

“A little.”

Mercia leaned forward like she was sharing a secret. “Is it lady sickness?”

“Mercia,” Elaine called. “Stop bothering Lady Thomasin. She has to drink her potion and prepare for the day.” She gestured at Thomasin to start drinking. 

The hot, murky water smelled and tasted considerably better than Thomasin had anticipated, but she would never admit that. She made a face as she drained the cup.

Mercia took the liberty of scooching closer to Thomasin and crossed her little legs. “You got castle?” Mercia asked.

Thomasin looked to Elaine, silently willing the woman to shut her daughter up, but she was back to meddling with her herbs by the fire. “Not anymore.”

“I not have castle,” Mercia said comfortingly. “You have horses?”

“My family had some, yes.” She was without a horse of her own since her mare’s death the year before.

“Not anymore?”

“Not anymore,” Thomasin confirmed.

“I not have horse. You got –”

“Etheldreda, I think perhaps I might bathe. Could you send for a tub? The hot water unknots my muscles.” Thomasin was planning a veritable monologue – as long as she was talking, the child was not – but Mercia had already lost interest in Thomasin.

She crouched beside her mother by the fireplace and plucked dried leaves and flowers from Elaine’s many jars which she then ate.

“A note, milady,” Etheldreda said. She handed the paper over to Thomasin. Thomasin tore it open, expecting something from Henry. It was not. “Are you still ill, Lady Thomasin?” Etheldreda asked.

“It’s from Lawrence,” Thomasin said. All three women fell silent; Mercia tugged at her mother’s hand in a soundless demand for protection and an explanation. “Perhaps I am still unwell.” Thomasin settled back into the pillows.

“What does it say?” Elaine asked.

“He would like to walk with me in the gardens.”

“In Heaven’s name, why?” asked Etheldreda.

“I’m supposed to marry him.”

Mercia wasn’t totally sure what was happening, but the toddler knew how to distract everyone from their problems. Something she heard from Henry and Simon when she caught them by surprise once.

 “Goddamn it!”

*

Thomasin shouldn’t be surprised that Lawrence expected to spend time with her, since they were, after all, engaged.

She supposed she should be pleased in some way. Or that she would be pleased if she were really going to marry him. He was handsome – or would be, if he weren’t directly compared to Henry. He was long-limbed and slim, a combination which made him look foxlike and sly. He was about Henry’s age, which put him somewhere in his early thirties, at least ten years older than Thomasin if not more.

It was a small age gap by most standards; most women wed by sixteen to men at least twice their age, often far more. Justina’s husband was nineteen or twenty years her senior.

As for Lawrence’s personality . . . 

Thomasin originally imagined Lawrence to be the sort of man who took joy in chaos and death. Instead, he was reportedly the sort not to find joy in anything at all. According to Elaine, he wasn’t the angry type either. Indeed, he seemed rather disinterested in general. 

The snow had started to melt, so Lawrence suggested a walk through the garden. They had no chaperone, but there were at least a dozen others walking along the paths. Etheldreda had altered Thomasin’s borrowed clothes so thankfully she didn’t get mud on the hem of her skirts.

The conversation was bland, to say the least, until Thomasin grew tired of being polite.

“I’ve heard the stories about you,” Thomasin finally said. “How you killed that baron’s wife and daughters. How you let your men rape the servants.”

Lawrence took a deep breath and shut his eyes, summoning his every ounce of patience. “My lady, that is what soldiers do in war. The reason most of these men came from Normandy in the first place was to enjoy the spoils of war. More often than not, those spoils are women.” He took another deep breath and went on walking. “I tell you truthfully, I’ve never had a girl against her will. That’s more than I can say for most of these other barons.”

“Indeed,” Thomasin said again.

“Does it surprise you to hear that most of the men here at court have raped defeated women?”

“No.” Thomasin wasn’t a fool, but she didn’t like thinking about that sort of thing. “But not all of them. Henry and his brothers haven’t. Roger hasn’t.”

Lawrence snorted. “Roger’s perversion sways him from women to men, and the Cavills are an anomaly.” 

Thomasin had no idea what the first part meant but she agreed with the second. 

“Henry cares for you deeply,” he said after a moment, tone perfectly conversational. “Tis a pity, that. His family are the most honorable men in Normandy if not the world, but I fear he’s a fool.”

“Why are we speaking of Henry?”

Lawrence stopped walking and raised an eyebrow at her. “Don’t insult my intelligence.”

Thomasin straightened up. “All right. What’s your point, then?”

“I’m sure the two of you will cook up some plot to overthrow me so that Henry can take my place as your intended. Frankly, I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

Thomasin made a face which she couldn’t hide. “Then why not just release me and let me marry him?” Her words dripped with judgment at his stupidity

“The king gave you to me, not him. He would be insulted if I gave you up for no reason. Besides, you are the sort that I want.”

“The sort,” she repeated. 

“You are beautiful, self-possessed, intelligent, strong. And you speak your mind, which i think saves a great deal of time.” He shrugged. “It’s a sound match.”

Had he just complimented her? The words were kind but his tone was so detached it felt more like an insult. 

Thomasin had the thought that maybe she should hold her tongue. Maybe she shouldn’t say what she wanted to. But she did “How sound was your last match?”

His ears went so red that Thomasin thought they might burst.

“There you are!” Elaine said, feigning relief. She conveniently appeared from a bend in the garden path. “I was looking for you.” She folded Thomasin’s arm into her own. “We must get you back to bed or I fear your promenade will be spoiled with sick. Do you mind terribly, Baron, if I take Lady Thomasin back to her chambers for some much-needed rest?”

“By all means,” he said - in a similarly sarcastic tone to the one Thomasin often used. “I’m due to visit your Saxon brethren in their dungeon anyway. I’ll be sure to give them your best.” He smiled and bowed. “Ladies.”

The women curtseyed and muttered farewells.

“Did you hear him?” Thomasin hissed when he was out of earshot. “He mentioned the Saxons.”

“I heard him,” Elaine said tersely. 

“Shouldn’t they have been executed by now?” asked Thomasin.

“One of the men told me that William is reluctant. They’re fine warriors, supposedly. The king would rather have their loyalty than their heads.”

Thomasin sighed. “Little chance of that.”

**

Henry was among the best warriors under William’s command. He was without a doubt a finer warrior than Lawrence, but he was still vulnerable because he adhered to a code of honor that Lawrence did not. Lawrence’s ruthlessness and detachment made him highly effective, though, and Henry would not make the mistake of underestimating him. 

There was a large stone courtyard between the castle itself and the wall William was building around it to make it into another bailey. Henry joined Roger, Charlie, and most of their men to train. Knights were expected to keep their skills sharp and were therefore expected to practice their skills, so it wasn’t strange for him to be there. No one suspected he was training for a duel, or if they did, they were quiet about it. 

Henry was barely out of the castle before a little voice called his name,

“Henry!” 

He turned around just in time to see Mercia, Elaine’s daughter, crash into his solid legs. He barely had time to maneuver so that she wouldn’t run smack into his scabbard.

“Ah, Mercia!” he said brightly, hoisting the girl into his arms. “You must be careful running. You could’ve gone straight into my sword and be chopped in half!”

“I careful,” she said. “I not cut in half. See?” She opened her arms as if to show him she was whole.

“And what about Batty?” Henry asked, nodding to the doll in her hand. “Is she as careful as you are?”

“Batty not a person, Henry. She not need be careful.”

“Ah, of course! That’s why she won’t talk to me!”

In fact, Batty didn’t interact with Henry because of an unfortunate incident in which Kal thought the poppet belonged to him and nearly tore it to shreds. Mercia had yet to forgive the dog. Her mother repaired the doll as best as she could, though it still bore the marks of its ordeal. Elaine was clever enough to replace some of the lost stuffing with the same herbs she used to treat people with similar wounds. It was Simon’s idea to add lavender to it to help the child relax.

“Where Simon?” Mercia asked.

Simon was Mercia’s dearest companion and she was his. He often referred to the girl as his own small angel, and sometimes asked her where her wings had gone.

Henry would’ve gladly been her playmate, ready for a footrace or a game at a moment’s notice, if his older brother had not asserted himself in that role. Simon’s special relationship with her daughter kindled Elaine’s affections for him until they mirrored his own admiration and tenderness for the healer. 

Simon, like Henry, longed for the joy and companionship of a wife and family, though his desire was even greater than his brother’s.

Charlie, too, wanted a family of his own, but he would not admit such a thing aloud. He could be prickly and cold to those he disliked while charming, funny, and kind to those he did. He often made up his mind about people quite quickly, and once his opinion was formed it was difficult to change. Such was the case with Thomasin.

“Simon is still in the north, at the castle I told you about,” Henry said to the little girl. “I know he would rather be here playing with you.”

“He coming back?” 

“Soon.”

She frowned. “I miss him. He my friend.”

“Am I not your friend, too?” Henry said with false sadness.

“Yeah, you my friend but you not best friend like Simon.”

Henry sighed theatrically. “I suppose I understand.” He looked around but there was no sign of Elaine, only a handful of serving women pinning wet clothes on a line. “Where’s your mother?”

“She with Lady Thomasin.”

Henry broke into a smile at the sound of her name. He always did. “You’ve met Tom?”

The child frowned again. “Who Tom?”

“It’s a name I call Thomasin.”

“Tom is name for boys. Thomasin not a boy,” she explained patiently.

“Of course, of course. Please forgive me.”

“I forgive,” she said, patting his shoulder.

Henry chuckled. “Is your mother friends with Tom? Thomasin,” he corrected.

“Yeah but they not play today. Thomasin not feel good.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

Mercia motioned for Henry to bring his ear closer so she could whisper to him. “Lady sickness.” She pulled away. “Mama say not to talk about it cause it a secret. Cannot tell!”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Henry promised. He was quietly relieved to hear it was nothing serious, but he frowned over it. Was she really sick, he wondered, or had her engagement to Lawrence prompted her to withdraw from court life?

“Thomasin pretty,” Mercia said.

“Very pretty,” Henry agreed.

“I like her hair.” The little girl started wiggling, a silent signal for Henry to set her down. “She sad though cause she gotta marry Lawrence. Lawrence really scary. And it a bad thing so I say, ‘Goddamn it!’” She shouted the curse; a female servant nearby looked shocked and horrified at the sound.

“Shh!” Henry said, putting his finger to his lips. “Who said that in front of you? Where did you hear it?”

“You say it. When Kal sneaked up on you and barked. You jump and you say, ‘Goddamn it!’”

“Shh!” Henry said again. “You mustn’t say that.”

“Cause why?”

Henry didn’t have a good reason handy. “Ask Simon when he gets back.”

“Why you not tell me?” she asked, sticking out her lower lip in a pout.

“Because I’m not your best friend.”

Henry went for two rounds with Roger, winning both. He then sparred with his squire, since it was his responsibility to train the boy, but he lacked the patience for it today. “Practice your footwork before next time, Jamie. It’s too easy to knock you on your arse.”

“We have an audience,” Roger murmured, nodding to a small, barred window at the base of the castle that looked in on the dungeon. A red-bearded face was just visible through the iron grate. One of the Saxon prisoners, no doubt.

“Can I be of service, sir?” Roger called out. He was courteous by nature, but he became excessively so when speaking to a handsome man – even if that man was in chains.

“Are you preparing for a fight?” the man asked. 

Henry opened his mouth to tell the Saxon that it was none of his business, but Roger answered instead. “Aye.”

“What are you fighting over?”

“What do you care?” Henry said. The Saxon shrugged. “A woman,” Henry finally said.

The Saxon didn’t approve. “One woman is just as good as another. It is no great tragedy to lose one to another man. Certainly not worth dying over.”

Henry though the Saxon must not have known many women in his life if he thought they were all interchangeable. But fair number of men, Saxon and Norman alike, shared his sentiment: So long as she ran the household and gave birth to sons, a woman was a woman, and her personality was of little consequence.

“I disagree,” said Henry. 

“Then she must be the kindest, most loving woman in all of Christendom if you’re willing to die for her,” the Saxon remarked.

Roger smirked. He spoke low enough that only Henry could hear when he said, “She most certainly is not.” Henry shot him a look which he pretended not to say. “What’s your name, Saxon?”

The Saxon sucked his teeth and narrowed his eyes in thought but did not reply.

“I’m Baron Roger,” Roger said. “This is Henry, my brother-by-law. And you are?” he prompted when the Saxon didn’t respond.

The Saxon replied, “Cerdic.”

**

One of the squires came around with a note from Henry when Thomasin was readying for dinner. It told Thomasin to come to the servant’s corridor at once. She hurried to finish preparing and went straight to the meeting spot.

“Henry?” she whispered, tiptoeing through the silent hall.

“No.”

Thomasin’s hand flew to her chest in surprise; her fist closed around Henry’s ring. “Charlie,” she gasped. She took a deep breath. “You nearly frightened the life out of me.”

Charlie did not look even the least bit contrite. In fact, he looked murderous. “You can’t let Henry get himself killed for you.”

Straight into arguing, then, Thomasin thought. A gentleman of Charlie’s pedigree ought to feign civility before starting trouble, at least in the beginning of the conversation.

“Do you think I want that? That I’m happy to have Henry risk his life?” Thomasin snapped. “Do you think I haven’t tried to reason with him?”

“You must try harder.”

“I must do nothing of the sort.” Thomasin agreed with his sentiment, but the way he spoke to her made her see red. “You try to reason with him! You’re his brother.”

“I have tried,” he growled, each word as sharp as a razor. “He’s determined to kill himself for you.”

Thomasin was ready to murder Charlie. It was a long time coming. “It’s not my fault that Henry fell in love with me,” she snapped. And that was true, wasn’t it? She hadn’t encouraged his affection, at least not at first. Had she? “I can’t control what he does. Go on hating me if you like, but it won’t change anything for anyone.”

“There’s another way.” Charlie swallowed his discomfort. “If you invite him to share your–”

Thomasin shook her head. “I’ve tried that,” she said, blushing all the way to her hairline. “He won’t. He’s too damn honorable for it.”

“Well you don’t need him to now if it’s already been done,” said Charlie.

“I don’t follow.”

Charlie fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I know about that night at the pond, just before you were injured.”

She shouldn’t be surprised to hear that he knew; they hadn’t exactly been subtle. But Charlie assumed too much. 

Thomasin took a deep breath and ignored the feeling of blood rushing into her cheeks. “Henry and I didn’t . . .”

Charlie shut his eyes and tried to be delicate. “Madam, you were unclothed –”

“He didn’t bed me,” Thomasin said strongly. A moment later, she added, “Not quite.”

“It doesn’t matter. Just tell the king you are not virtuous; you’ll be released from your betrothal without getting my brother slaughtered.”

Thomasin exhaled through her nose. “I’ve considered this course of action,” she confessed. “But it seems unwise to lie to the king, especially for a Saxon. Besides, Lawrence might demand proof. They’ll know I’m lying if they examine me.”

Charlie believed his brother was too fine a man to take advantage of Thomasin, but he was a bit surprised that she was a virgin – or claimed to be, at least. She didn’t possess many virtues that he was aware of, and he hadn’t expected chastity to be one of them.

“It won’t come to that. Some of the men will attest to what they saw that night in the camp.”

Some of the men? Good Lord, how many of them had seen her and Henry together? The fact that any man had seen them meant the whole group knew what happened; gossip spread through camps like wildfire through a dry forest.

Good. Wonderful. Now she was a shrew and a whore.

Charlie was calmer now but his gaze stayed sharp. “My brother loves you. He says it and shows it all the time.”

Thomasin’s throat tightened. “I know.” There was never a doubt in her mind about it. She had the love of a good man. Not many women could say that.

“Yet I’ve never heard you say you love him. I’ve never seen you show it,” he continued. “I won’t let him die for a woman who doesn’t love him back.”

He was right.

She didn’t love him. She couldn’t.

It would betray the promise she made the night her father died never to forgive the invaders that stole her life away. That promise and the anger and pain beneath it were all Thomasin had left of her old self. She doubted she’d ever see any of her siblings again, or her home. That promise was her quiet rebellion against a change she could not fight.

She was allowed to feel tenderness for him, even affection, but she could not love him.

“You don’t know a damned thing about what I feel,” she snarled. She could hardly contain her fury; her whole body shook with the urge to lash out at Charlie and the difficulty of controlling it.

“Perhaps I don’t,” Charlie said. “But don’t allow a good man get killed for nothing.”

Thomasin’s throat was suddenly dry and tight and sore. “I won’t.”

#henry cavill #the cavillry #I capture the castle #whatever works #stardust #hellraiser #hellworld #mike #the tudors #Charles Brandon #duke of suffolk #medieval #au #alternate universe #enola holmes #Sherlock Holmes #netflix #Nomis #night hunter #Walter Marshall #the witcher #geralt of rivia #the white wolf #mission impossible #fallout #john lark #august walker #Tristan and Isolde #melot #english

[band--psycho]

Bucky Barnes x Reader-The Lost King(Royal AU)

A/n: This is my second entry for @girl-next-door-writes bingo writing challenge (this is probably one of the longest fics I’ve written) I hope you all enjoy it!!

Streams of sunlight began to flood into the room, the brightness of the light causing Y/n to stir in her sleep as her eyes fluttered open. Normally, she’d marvel at what a beautiful morning it was but today was different. Today, she couldn’t help but feel the dull ache in her heart as she turned to see Bucky sleeping peacefully beside her. Lightly she caressed his face, careful not to disturb what was bound to be the last peaceful sleep he’d have for a while. She tried to push the fear and worry that filled her head but in truth she was terrified, the war between their country and King Schmidts had grown fiercer and bloodier over the past few days. Bucky, wanted to show  a display of hope and strength to our people and was going to ride out to the battle with a large number of soldiers in just a small number of hours. Of course Y/n supported his decision, she knew it would give their people hope, hope which so desperately needed to be shown in these dark times but she knew what Kinf Schmidt and his men were like from the reports she’d read and the gossip that swam round the castle; these people were cut throat,ruthless and bloodthirtsy. She knew Bucky was a talented fighter, there was no denying that but still the fear that he may not return from this battle seemed to be permanently ingrained in her mind.   

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Bucky whispered drowsily, dragging Y/n from her thoughts. 

“Morning,” Y/n whispered before lightly pressing her lips to his. The kiss was soft but yet it seemed to convey all the emotions Y/n didn’t trust herself to say, maybe it was because Bucky knew her so well or maybe it was because he felt a familiar feeling of dread himself. He knew what he was doing was risky but it needed to be done. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know” Bucky cooed once they pulled away from the kiss, instantly seeing the sadness in her eyes. He knew that there were no words that would ease the worry from her mind so he did the only thing that he could do. He held her. He pulled her into his embrace, his hands lightly roaming over her body, not in a sexual way but in a soothing one. The pair of them stayed like that, wrapped up in each other's arms, silently comforting each other, right up until there was a dull knock at the door. Both of them wanted nothing more than to just stay in that moment but they couldn’t. It was time and they both knew it. 

“Promise me you’ll come back to me,” the pain in Y/n's voice was enough to make his heartbreak.

“I’ll always come back to you, my love,” he soothed, holding her even closer than before. 

 “Always,” he repeated like a mantra, placing a final kiss on her lips.

“I love you” 

“I love you too,” she replied back with tears in her eyes, coldness washing over her body as he pulled away from the embrace, vanishing behind the door to make his way down to the armoury.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n stood leaning against the stone railing of balcony, her gaze locked onto the horizon which she had watched the love of her life disappear into. It had been six months since she said her final farewell to the man she loved and she had been out here everyday since, no matter the weather.She remembered watching him the day he left, she had stood in this very spot, fear and anxiety plaguing her thoughts. She recalled the way the sun had glinted of his pristine armour, of the way he spoke and inspired his men, lifting their spirits from the back of his noble steed as the animal trotted along the lines.He had stopped in front, looking over the men following him as his horse pawed restlessly at the ground. His short hair was neat, every strand styled in place the way he liked, and despite the distance she remembered the spark in his eyes and the familiar smirk upon his face as the battalion of men cheered for him, ready and willing to follow their king into battle. 

He had waved to her, blew a kiss in her direction before setting off. She had stood in place for what felt like hours, watching his figure grow smaller and smaller until he vanished out of sight altogether. 

His goal and wish was for his actions to reignite hope amongst their people, and for a time it had. But it only lasted so long, they say no news is good news, but for most the disappearance of their king and his gallant men had only increased their desperation  and despair, one in particular.

“Your Majesty,” as though on que the recent bane of her existence made himself known. Sighing, Y/N turns her head towards the voice she and come to loath.

“Lord Stark, can I help you with something?” She inquired with a curt tone, already knowing what he was here to discuss with her. She had been avoiding him for this very reason, and it seems he had clicked onto her intentions. She was in no mood for this.  

She hears him sigh in response, as he, her royal advisor comes to stand a few feet behind her, “You know why I’m here your majesty. We didn’t get the chance to finish our discussion.”

“On the contrary  Lord Stark, I believe we have, on multiple occasions now. What you mean to say is that you’re unsatisfied with my answer and wish for me to reconsider my decision.” she corrected sternly, trying her hardest to maintain her composure

“I meant no disrespect my lady, I’m just saying it would be wise to-“

“To what? To marry again?”Y/N cuts him off before he can finish

“We’ve been over this Your Majesty, marrying again would protect you and it may even form a new alliance,” His words and tone felt like a dagger in her heart, how many times had they discussed this. Y/N curses herself at the feeling of tears building up, fighting to keep them in as she looks to the sky and takes a deep breath, calming herself. He was out there still, he had to be, why was it so hard for others to have faith in him.

“You’re talking as if he’s dead,”

“I cannot even begin to understand how hard this is for you-“

Pity, his tone reeked of it, if she turned to him now she knew she’d see it plain as day upon his face. He spoke to her as though she were a child, one that needed coddling and protecting. She knew the kingdom needed a king, they needed security and an heir and she had been doing her best. For him above all else. He had done so much for her, he had given her his life and his heart and in turn she had done the same and she refused to give up on him now. 

“He’s not dead, he’s out there somewhere.” Lord Stark merely sighed in response to her again, though this time there was an irritated tone to it. She could tell her stubbornness was annoying him, but she couldn’t bring herself to care, he had pushed her past that months ago.

“I understand your need for hope.” 

She couldn’t help but let a humourless laugh slip past her lips as she turned to look at her advisor. Head high and shoulders back, she knew he would see the redness in her eyes, but above all else she wanted him to see her determination and strength. Approaching him, she mutters, “Hope which you should share for your king.” Not giving him a chance to say anything else, Y/N walks towards the doors to the balcony, hope lost was as good as admitting defeat, in accepting that that which you have faith in no longer invokes to inspire you. Bucky deserves more than that.,”

~~~~~~~~

Lord Rogers, much like Y/n refused to believe that the king was dead.. Regret and guilt tended to fill his mind when he would search him, he hated that he didn’t go with him to the battle. Ever since they were boys, the two of them would always be there for each other, protecting each other from foes. As a young boy, Steve didn’t have the best life, but Bucky was always there to defend him and no one would dare harm a prince, those that dared to try normally ended up flat on their arse. When Bucky inherited the throne he gave Steve a title, land and with that came some long overdue respect. But inheriting the throne led to Bucky having to face harsher foes than just the local bullies and of course through every battle Steve was there, protecting his friend the same way Bucky had protected him for all those years before. This time it was different though, Bucky insisted that Steve stayed at the castle to keep an eye on Y/n, to protect her if anything happened to him in the battle. It worried him but he also understood Buckys reasoning so didn’t try to fight him on the matter.Steve spent days at a time searching the surrounding forests and mountains for any sign of the king's survival, only returning to the castle to check on the Queen, knowing she, like him, was struggling. But hers was for a different reason, he knew she was being pressured by her royal advisor, Lord Stark to re-marry and it pained Steve to admit it but Lord Stark had a point, their country was vulnerable without a king, Y/n was an excellent queen, there was no denying that but men from other lands failed to show her the respect she deserved without a king next to her. Steve knew Bucky was alive, he knew in his heart that he was alive,they were like brothers and he Steve was determined to find him.

Steve was riding through the woods on the border of the land, it was an area he hadn’t been to since the king first went missing. In the distance Steve saw another man on horseback, instantly his guard was up, prepared for the possibility of an attack. A few seconds passed and the figure started to become clearer but the man fell off his horse before Steve could make out any detail or features of the man. Steve dismounted his horse almost instantly and made his way over cautiously toward the man. As he got closer to the figure he noticed the all time familiar features of his best friend; his hair looked long and matter, his clothes were torn and he was covered in blood. Worry flooded over Steve’s face as he knelt down next to Bucky, letting out a small sigh of relief when he realised the blood wasn’t Buckys. Carefully he picked up the king's unconscious body and placed it on his own horse before bolting back to the castle.

~~~~~~~

A frustrated sigh left Y/ns lips as she entered her bedroom. She’d spent most of the day trying to calm the Lords who were getting more agitated by the day as well as dealing with the constant hints Lord Stark was making about finding a new suitor. She hated this. She hated being like this, passed around like she was a piece of meat to any king that would help the country. She knew in both her head and her heart that she would never remarry, if Bucky wasn’t found then she would rule the country alone like she had been doing with the hope that sooner or later the Lords would respect her the way they did Bucky. She all but collapsed on the bed she once shared with Bucky, her eyes slowly drifted shut as she got lost in the memories of her and Bucky. 

Y/n nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard someone burst through the door, to her relief though it was only Steve. However his boldness was something that caught her attention, normally Steve was such a gentleman and would always wait to be summoned into the room. 

“Steve? Are you okay?” She asked, confusion racing through her brain as her eyes scanned over Steve, searching for answers. 

“I found him,” those words were enough to have Y/n darting out of her bed and grabbing her robe before following Steve to the infirmary, a mixture of anxiety and relief filling her her thoughts. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When she first saw him in his bloodstained clothes, she instantly thought the worst. She thought he was dead. But when she saw his chest slowly rising and falling she felt relief wash over her. He was alive. All of those months of waiting for him and he was here. He was really here, back with her. Hours passed and Y/n was still sat by Bucky's side, not wanting to leave his side ever again, she never wanted to let him go ever again. A few more hours passed before Bucky's blue eyes slowly fluttered open. Shock and terror filled his eyes when he first opened them, until he saw Y/n's face, as soon as he saw her face he felt all of the pain and terror fade away. He slowly raised his hand to her face, trying to work out if he’d wandered into a dream, but this felt more real than any dream he’d had in the months that’d passed. 

“You’re safe, you’re home,” Y/n cooed, stroking some of the stray strands of hair away from his face. Her voice was  soft and sweet just like he remembered it and at her touch he felt like he was being brought back to life, like all the terrors of the past six months hadn’t happened. 

“You came back to me,” she soothed, caressing his face as she lightly placed her forehead against his. 

“Of course I did,” Bucky whispered, moving his head slightly to press a kiss onto her palm, “I had a promise to keep.”

(Credit to the gif owners)

Tag List: 

@sarcasticallywitty15 @abadamn @wiccanmetallicrose @little-diable @xacatapelsyx @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ @amythedvdhoarder @chrissquares​

#Girl Next Door’s Make Me Feel Bingo #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes royal au #king bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader #marvel imagine #bucky imagine #Bucky Barnes

[shirtlesssammy]

2x09: Croatoan

Then:

Sam Winchester, Supernatural’s resident Clyde Bruckman

Now:

Sam has a vision of Dean in a room with a bunch of strangers. One man is tied to a chair and Dean has his gun trained on him. The man pleads that it’s not in him. He begs the doctor to tell Dean that. She can’t tell. Dean has to do his job --and we see him shoot. 

In reality, Dean’s just getting back from a Slim Jim and beer run. 

The brothers head out to the town that Sam saw in his vision. Once there, Sam notices a man that was in his vision. They approach him and pose as Federal Marshals. They ask about the other man in Sam’s vision. Dean sees a tattoo on the man’s arm and appeals to the fact that he was in the Marines. He tells the brothers where Duane lives. 

On their walk to Duane’s, Sam notices the word CROATOAN carved into a telephone pole. 

Then the history nerd Sam decides it’s his right to lecture Dean on not knowing what this word is. Dean was too busy saving the world to pay attention in history class, Sam. Get off your high horse. Also, SAM, they weren’t wiped out “overnight”, and in fact probably just integrated into local native communities. Okay, I’ll get off my own high horse now, lol. 

They decide to contact Bobby or Ellen for help, but their phones don’t get a signal and the conveniently placed pay phone doesn’t work. 

They head to Duane’s house. His brother greets them at the door and tells them he’s on a fishing trip. His dad then shows up at the door and lets them know he doesn't know when Duane will be back. They ask about the mother, but she’s out getting groceries. It’s clear then that the family is lying. 

It turns out, the mom is tied up in the kitchen. 

Sam and Dean bust in just as the son is dripping blood onto the mother. The dad charges them and Dean takes him out. The son busts through the kitchen window and runs away before Sam gets a clear shot. 

They head back to town with the mom and take her to the local clinic. Dean brings in the father, lol. The doctor patches up the mother, Beverly, while she tells her story. “One minute they were my husband and son, and the next they had the devil in them.” 

Dean and Sam wonder if it’s a mass possession. The doctor comes in and wants to know what happened --they just killed her next door neighbor. Since the phones are down, Dean decides to head to the next town for help. 

On the road, he finds a stalled car with a bullet hole in the windshield. The car is abandoned --with an empty baby seat, blood everywhere, and a knife outside the driver’s door. 

At the clinic, the doctor determines that the dead guy was fighting off a viral infection. She also notes a weird red residue like sulfur. 

Dean keeps driving and comes across a roadblock of people with guns. Totally COOL. A man surprised Dean at his door and asks him to step outside. Dean hits the gas pedal in reverse. Guns start firing. Dean drags the dude and does a 180 --getting out of there in time. 

The doctor tells Beverly about the virus and asks if she had contact with their blood. (I mean, just that LITTLE blood ritual they were doing before Sam and Dean popped in.) The doctor asks to take a blood sample. Beverly seems to acquiesce, and then goes full roid rage. 

Sam knocks her out with a gas canister. 

As Dean pulls back into town, the man they talked to earlier jumps out with a gun. Dean and him have a small standoff --each wondering if the other one is “one of ‘em?” The town is going crazy though. Dean suggests heading over the the clinic since there’s no way out of town. The man doesn't believe Dean but then decides to get in the car. Dean drives to the clinic with them both pointing their gun at the other. 

At the clinic, Pam, the nurse, wants to leave to check on her boyfriend. Sam convinces her that it’s safer in the clinic. It’s then that Dean and the Sarge show up. Dean and Sam discuss the virus --demonic virus. Sam read in their dad’s journal that John thought that Croatoan was a name of a demon. They have to warn people. 

They learn that Beverly is infected and, to Doctor Lee’s and Pam’s horror, Dean and the Sarge immediately announce their intention to kill her. But before they go to that drastic step, Sam interrogates Doctor Lee and asks her if she has a cure yet. The doctor gives Sam a PLEASE SHUT UP look because no, she DOESN’T have a cure for a brand new virus that she’s just discovered with her - checks notes - standard wellness clinic equipment. Long story short, the mom dies bloody.

Later, shadowy figures lurk outside the clinic. Inside, the Winchesters merrily prepare for war as Pam gets twitchy and drops infected blood samples. They decide to fight their way out of town, past the blockades. Sam “Don’t Look at my Browser History” Winchester’s eyes light on some chemicals in the office. It’s time to make some bombs.

Suddenly, someone pounds on the clinic door begging for help. It’s Duane, otherwise known as the man from Sam’s vision! He tells them he just got back from the fishing trip from hell, and he’d sure like to know where his parents are. UH....one of them is dead in the closet next to you? The doctor examines him and finds a wound on him. They tie him up while Doctor Lee drops a virus update. It takes three hours for the virus to incubate before sulfur starts cropping up in the bloodstream. She can’t test for the virus until it’s too late...and he goes full rage zombie on everyone.

Sam pulls Dean aside and begs him to wait to kill Duane. Dean’s against this plan, and Sam accuses him of acting out of character. LORD SAM if I had a nickel for every time that happened on this show! Dean immediately takes umbrage with...everything...and flees the conversation.  He also locks Sam in a room so he can pull off his execution uninterrupted. Dean BBY no.

Duane tearfully begs for his life while Dean confronts the monster within himself - and aims the gun.

“I got no choice,” Dean says while Duane weeps, and I weep for different reasons. Dean’s hand shakes. His lip trembles. Dean drops the gun with a curse.

Later, he unwinds while making bombs with Sam. The doctor announces that over four hours have passed, and Duane’s blood is still unsulfured. They decide to untie him. Sam asks why Dean decided to spare his life. Dean deflects because...of course, and Sam heads off for more supplies.

Pam locks Sam in a room with her and almost immediately shrieks and attacks him. She cuts Sam and slices her own palm, pressing into Sam’s wound. Right after that, Dean breaks the door down and shoots her. They wrap their heads around the fact that Pam bled on Sam.

While the extremely harried Doctor examines Sam, the others hold an intense standoff in front of Sam. Dean will kill anyone and everyone to PROTECT his brother, but the others advocate for immediate action. Sam tells Dean to hand a gun over to him and he’ll take himself out! And he doesn’t mean take himself out to a nice dinner and movie! GUH. Winchesters. 

Dean throws his car keys - BABY’S CAR KEYS - to the others and tells them to get the hell out of town. He plans to stay behind and watch over his brother for it is his SOLEMN SWORN DUTY.

Sam begs Dean to hand him a gun and get to safety. And that’s sad, sure. That’s tragic. But when Sam urges Dean to “keep going” Dean looks away. “Who says I want to?” he gets out.  Excuse me, I’m just going to fling myself off a cliff. 

“I’m tired, Sam. I’m tired of this job. This life. This weight on my shoulders.” Dean confesses that it’s not all about their dad’s death either… He was feeling this before their dad died. But JUST BEFORE we get to the core of Dean Winchester, the doctor knocks and tells them to head outside.

The town is utterly silent, everyone gone. The camera super-zooms in on the carved “CROATOAN” on the light pole. Dun dun DUN, etcetera. Why yes, Robert Singer DID direct this episode!

More time passes, and the doctor examines Sam’s blood sample again. His blood is still clean hours later. Sam’s baffled because he for really real knows he got Pam’s blood in his wound. SAM, YER A WIZARD! The doctor looks at the other contaminated samples for comparison and discovers that they’re entirely clean. 

In the morning, the doctor bids everyone farewell. She gives Sam a clean bill of health. Sam is predictably still puppy-dog-eyed baffled over it, but he and Dean head out regardless. Duane and Sarge blow town together. 

For Pretty Car Science:

Later, Duane asks to pull over. “I gotta make a call,” he says before rapidly slicing Sarge’s throat and filling a chalice with blood. He tells the cup that the testing is over. The “Winchester boy is definitely immune, as expected.” His eyes turn demon-black.

Elsewhere, Sam and Dean take in a nature stroll as delicate music plays. 

For Winchesters Enjoying Nature Science:

They moodily swig beer. Sam asks Dean to explain his woeful feelings from earlier. “We oughtta...go to the Grand Canyon,” Dean proposes, COMPLETELY failing to be honest about his feelings. He’d like a break from hunting. When Sam digs further, Dean finally spills. Before their dad died, he told Dean something about Sam. John Winchester, father of the year, told Dean he might have to………..

And we cut to black. I’m sure it was something nice, though, like buy Sam an ice cream cake!

Quotatoan:

That's not school, that's Schoolhouse Rock

Well, you are a handsome devil, but I don't swing that way >.>

You've got a neighbor named Mr. Rogers?

Night of the Living Dead didn't exactly end pretty

We're supposed to struggle with this. That's the whole point

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

#spn recap #dean winchester #sam winchester #spn 2x09 #croatoan #supernatural season 2

[rocksbackpages]

New on RBP

It's a Manchester special this week – with a bit of Krautrock and Celtic tradition added for good measure. To celebrate the imminent publication of his epic Tony Wilson biography From Manchester With Love, we've made Paul Morley writer of the week and made three of his classic NME pieces free on the home page. All touch on the triumph and tragedy of Joy Division... and the endurance of New Order, whose Bernard Sumner & Stephen Morris are (from 1986) the week's featured audio interviewees.

The act featured in the Free On RBP section is the radical German kollectiv that was early '70s Faust. Interviews by Ian MacDonald (1973) and Andy Gill (1997) tell the wild and crazy story of Uwe Nettelbeck and friends, while Krautrock chronicler David Stubbs describes his teenage Faustian pact. We're saying goodbye to chief Chieftain and beloved Irish rover Paddy Moloney via interviews from 1998 and 2010, plus we've also lost three of RBP's veteran specialists on rhythm 'n' blues and soul: Bob Fisher, Pete Grendysa & Roger St. Pierre, pieces by all of whom we're spotlighting on the home page. RBP subscribers can enjoy almost 60 new additions to the library, including:

Dusty Springfield getting personal with Penny Valentine in 1967;

Rob Partridge visiting Atlantic's London offices in 1974;

Bill Holdship bidding farewell to Del Shannon after the latter's 1990 suicide;

Andrew Smith talking to techno magus the Aphex Twin in 1992;

Former MC5 manager John Sinclair taking The Wire's invisible jukebox test;

Kandia Crazy Horse questioning the New Afrophilia of Vampire Weekend et al.;

and Nick Cave bearing his soul to GQ's Chris Heath in 2017.

If you could just see the beauty, These things I could never describe, These pleasures a wayward distraction, This is my one lucky prize...

#music journalism #manchester music #Joy Division #ian curtis #factory records #tony wilson #anthony h. wilson #paul morley #NME #faust #krautrock #New Order #audio interviews #paddy moloney #the chieftains

[wafflesetc]

Marching On-S5 finale/ABOSAA Missing Momen

A/N:his was originally started months back during my ABOSSA  re-read. We didn’t get much of Jamie’s POV in the books leading up to when he finds Claire. I have always been interested in that, so I started writing it. Somewhere along the line, I dropped it. I found it lying in my GoogleDocs and finished it. I hope you enjoy.

He remembered the night in the Big House. Brianna had attempted to make something she called a pizza from their time. 

The entire evening he had spent in his chair, spectacles on, pretending to be reading something in Greek. He had started off as reading the book, but slowly as his family came into the house at the end of the day, they gathered in the kitchen. 

Marsali had brought the children up to say goodnight. Germain had mud on his knees and elbows and Felicite was wailing in her mother’s arms.  

“We only came to say our farewell for the evening,” Marsali had switched the unhappy infant from one hip to the other while her toddler pulled on her dress, “Germain got into the mud, again... ‘Tis a bath night for us.” 

“You sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?” Claire had taken Felicite into her arms, soothing her in an instant. 

“Ye’d think after three bairns I’d ken what I was doing, but she seems tae like her Grannie.” Marsali smiled at Claire and shook her head no. 

“Grannie’s touch is all it takes sometimes.” She handed the bairn back to her mother and they were on their way.

He had then turned his attention to Roger Mac who was writing something intently at the table. 

He flipped a page, pretending the book was keeping his attention.

His daughter was sitting on the floor in front of the fire, his grandson right next to Bree.  

“Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars and Jupiter.” Brianna was giving Jem a small astronomy lesson. “And what comes next?” 

“Swaturn!” His grandson bellowed with pride. 

“That’s right! You’re a smart boy.” Bree rose to her knees, “Play with your toys while Mama checks on dinner and then I’ll tell you about the stars!” She kissed his forehead and turned her  attention to the doughy concoction.  

Pizza she had called it- a dough with mashed tomatoes, some vegetables from Claire’s garden, and goat’s cheese they had made. It surely sounded like nothing he’d ever had before, but  when he saw the look on his wife’s face with Brianna had suggested the idea, he knew it was something he had to try. He watched as Claire sat down to play with Jem, and Bree joined Roger at the table. That night had been all he’d ever wanted in life, and somehow by some miracle, Claire had given it to him. 

He often tried to avoid thinking of Claire and her time. She never spoke of missing other times, but he knew it was not far from her mind at certain points. He figured that those things she might yearn for were the conveniences of that time-  electricity, anesthesia, and flushing toilets (the few that he could remember)were similar to the small things he missed about Scotland when he stopped to think about it: The cool crisp mountain air of the Highlands, Mrs. Crook’s porridge on a Saturday morning, sleeping in the Laird’s room. Yet he knew, as did Claire, all of those were the fleeting things that life that didn’t matter.

She was all that mattered. 

Claire.

Mo nighean donn. 

Mo chridhe. 

Sorcha. 

All the names he had for her, yet nothing ever truly encapsulated just how much she meant to him.  

Being the proficient horse rider that he was, he picked up the reins and moved the horse from a trot to steady gallop.

She was out there. Somewhere in the universe. In the hands of men who would harm her, defile her… Kill— 

No, he couldn’t let himself think of that.

It wouldn’t come to that. 

He had taken a picture of the pizza night in his head, just as Claire had told him to- “Remember the pictures I brought you of Bree when I came back? Take one of those and remember tonight, Jamie.” She smiled and sat on his lap, closing the book he had been reading. “It’s all the things we dreamed about when we were first married.”

He remembered the way the kitchen had smelled, the groans from everyone’s mouths as they had taken the first bite. He remembered how somehow his heart had grown larger and somehow he had loved Claire more than he had merely a moment before. 

She was the axis on which his world revolved around. Every breathing person in his life had become important to him because of her. 

And now, the axis of his word had been turned upside down. His entire universe-hanging on a thread that could be cut in an instant. 

The moon illuminated the forest and he could hear the trot of Roger and Ian behind him. Fergus was just to his right. The sons of house, blood and name coming alongside him to find the one thing that mattered most to him.

She was out there, somewhere, and he would find her. 

He had to-there was simply no other option.

#Outlander #Jamie x Claire #Outlander fanfic #myfic! #OL: Missing Moment #OL: Season 5 #OL: ABOSSA

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Ready now; Queen x reader

*Author’s note*

To the anon who requested this from way back when, I first wanna thank you for being SUPER PATIENT with me.  I was going through a lot at the time you sent the request but I am slowly but surely getting through them. Eventually once I get the chance, I may open requests back up again.

Now there’s not really any serious warnings other than swearing, fluff, and angst.  I hope you all enjoy this fic and until next time stay safe, stay healthy, stay positive.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@platawnic

@queensdivas

@geek-and-proud

@queendeakyy

@kairosfreddie

____________________________________________________________

*Oklahoma city, Oklahoma, 1976*

It was like every other Wednesday night at COWBOY’S.  The live dancing, bull riding, and of course the famed karaoke night.  I’ve been coming to this club for as long as I can remember, in fact I think I was a kid when I first came here.  It was to see my mama sing for karaoke night and of course my dad is known around here as the world champion bull rider.

He kept that title from the time he was 16 up till just before I was born.  And because of his reputation, I (and I hate to admit it) but I get special treatment every time I go to Cowboy’s.  In fact the current owner, he was my dad’s longtime friend and fellow bull riding competitor.

As I walked inside I could already see the place was packed with people.  Line dancing and really lighting up the dancefloor making this club a real Hoedown. I first went up to the bar and there running it was the owner’s son, Jensen.  He and I go way back, even though he’s like seven years older than me, he treats me like his little sis.  Always keeping the boys away.

“Well, well, well, well, well. Look who walked in. It’s the singing sensation (Y/n) (L/n). Can I just say I am a huge fan of yours!” He teased me at the end.

“Oh Jensen stop it. You know I’m not famous yet.”

“Not yet, but you will be soon.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“Okay hang on, let me get your usual and then you spill your guts.” He walked away and got my usual beer and filled it almost up to the rim.  He slid it towards me and he said as he leaned up against the bar, “Alright now talk.” I took a sip of my beer before saying.

“What if no one likes my song?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Jens you know as well as I do that no one really sings original pieces here. It’s always covers of famous songs, and the last time someone did do an original he was booed off the stage.”

“First off, his song sucked and he kept screwing up on the guitar. So of course he was thrown off the stage. But you—you’ve got a serious talent in song writing. And your voice—baby girl the only other female singer I can compare you to here was your mom.”

“You really think so?”

“Coming from a Texas man forced to move here when we first met, you’re bout the only good thing in this one horse town. Hell you’re way better than just sticking right here. Especially since—well you know.”

“I know. It’s……it’s been rough. Ever since the car crash mama’s been—well not herself lately. Music is bout the only thing I can do to make her happy.”

“So you get up on that stage and knock these cow-folks right off their boots. Now go relax on the dance floor and I’ll let my old man know you’re here.”

“Thanks Jensen.” I pulled out my wallet to pay for the beer but he stopped me.

“No need, this one’s on my tab tonight. But expect to pay me back once you hit the big time.” I smiled at him and pocketed my wallet back into my jeans.

“Thanks Jensen, you’re like the brother I never had.”

“Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you yah silly little day dreamer.” He teased as he placed his cowboy hat on top of my head, teasingly rocking my head from side to side till I stuck my tongue at him and took another swig of my beer.

I then headed off to the dance floor to cool off (dancing always helped me calm down, especially when it’s with a group of people) and I danced with some of my old friends from high school, just letting my hair down as I danced the first hour of the night away before they would call up the performers for karaoke night.

*3rd Person POV*

Unbeknownst to (Y/n), it was also on that night that the most famous rock and roll band would also be there on that night to see her perform.  Freddie Mercury, Brian May, Roger Taylor, and John Deacon, otherwise known as the band Queen, had just arrived in Oklahoma city to do their two night concert they had scheduled for their “A day at the Races” tour.

To let down some steam and relax after a few days on the road, Freddie had heard about this club from a friend of his and convinced the other three to come along and check it out.  All four of them wearing cowboy hats, so that they wouldn’t stick out like sore thumbs, they entered inside and saw the whole place buzzing.

“Wow, this is even more filled than the Disco club Veronica and I met at.” Said John.

“Well Tony said this was the one place in America where you would get a traditional Southern treatment.” Said Freddie. “And I like it. It’s reputation proceeds itself.” He continued with a smile as he adjusted his hat.

“Remind me again why we had to wear these though?” Roger said.

“Don’t be such a party pooper blondie. Besides you see every man in here. Tony said that everyone in Oklahoma wears cowboy hats. Anyone who doesn’t is automatically labeled a stranger. And I don’t want no Wanted poster of me across the state for refusal to wear a cowboy hat.” Freddie said as he playfully shoved Roger.

“It’s not so bad.” Brian said as he fiddled with the string of his hat.

“You’re just saying that cause you can’t feel it on your head.” Quipped John.

“Alright, alright Deacy darling you’ve had your shot at Bri. Now I don’t want any more brawls tonight. I wanna enjoy this night, you three know how much I love to party. So don’t fuck this up for me.”

“If you wanted that Fred then you should’ve left Roger on the bus.” Brian said.

“You know what yah curly haired space poodle……”

“Gentlemen.” The four of them turned to see an old man around his mid-50’s walk up towards them.  He wore a traditional brown colored cowboy hat, his grey goatee reflected off the lights, and the spurs off his boots jingled with each step. “Now I get it we all need to let off some steam, but if you’re gonna cause any trouble I’m gonna ask you all to leave.”

“No worries my good sir. You must forgive my friend here, he didn’t quite have him fixed yet so his testosterone can run him ragged like one of your bulls.” Freddie sweet-talked the man.

“Watch it Fred!” Roger sneered as he took out a cigarette and lit it up.

“Alright. I’m trusting you to keep an eye on your friend there. I get enough drunks brawling every night here, I don’t need another damage fee added to my billing. Bobby Singer, owner of Cowboy’s.”

“Pleasure to meet you Bobby dear. I heard about this place from a friend of mine and this place does not disappoint.” Freddie praised as he and Bobby shook hands with each other.

“Thank you son. Built this place myself with my own two hands before moving the wife and son up here.”

“How long has this place been here?” asked Brian.

“Well came up here around 51, bought this property at around 53-54 and the doors finally opened by the start of the 60’s so…..about 16 years this club has been around. And she’s still going strong.”

“Impressive.” Freddie praised.

“What kind of drinks do you serve here?” asked Roger.

“Well if you mosey on down to the bar, my son Jensen will lay down everything we got. We mostly do beer but if you can take something stronger, we got that as well. Enjoy yourselves boys.” As Bobby walked away, the boys bid him farewell.

“He seemed nice.” John said.

“A friendly old man, kinda reminds me of Miami. Firm, strict, knows when you’re starting trouble Rog.”

“Watch it Fred.”

“Alright come on, I think we can all do with a drink right now.”

“Yes.”

“Or ten.” the band members walked over to the bar to see Jensen cleaning out a mug.

“Excuse me darling!” Freddie cried out to Jensen.

“Yes can I he—he-ha-ha……oh shit! You’re….you guys are Queen!”

“Yes. I take it you’re a fan of ours?” asked Brian.

“Y-Yeah.” Jensen squeaked.  He then cleared his throat before continuing, “I mean yes. When I first heard Bohemian Rhapsody for the first time, it changed my life on how I look at music. Not even some of my favorite bands can do what you guys do.”

“Well thank you darling. Bohemian Rhapsody was a masterpiece.” Freddie said.

“But a complete nightmare to make.” Roger added in.

“So what can I get for you guys?” asked Jensen.

“What all do you got?” asked John.

“Well you guys actually came on a good day. Wednesday nights are our special’s night. Every drink at half price. We’ve basically got every beer imaginable, but we also do vodka, gin and juice, margaritas. And of course we have the basic water and soda for those sensitive to the strong stuff.”

“Well then my darling, we’ll go ahead and take three of your finest beer and a vodka shot please.” Freddie said.

“Coming right up.” Jensen walked off to prep the drinks for the four young band members.

“He seems like a nice chap.” Brian said.

“He does indeed.” Agreed John.  Before another word could be said, Bobby soon came up on stage and said.

“And that was Carol Anne with ‘Sweet home Alabama’.” The crowd then cheered. “And now ladies and gents, it’s time to be graced by our very own special songbird. Please welcome our very own Southern Belle. (Y/n) (L/n)!” the crowd cheered and it was then the four English rockers soon saw a young woman coming up on stage.

She looked to be about John’s age, maybe a couple years younger.  In her hand was a 12 string acoustic, she got onto the stool and adjusted the mic.

*My POV*

God my nerves were really starting to get the best of me.  What if no one liked the song? Oh god I wish daddy could be here, he always knew just how to calm me down.  I adjusted the mic and plugged in my guitar.

“Hello everyone. I uhh—” I cleared my throat. “Tonight I’m gonna do something a little different than my last few performances. This is an original piece I’ve been working hard on. Hope you all like it.” I turned towards the ensemble band and nodded to them.  They nodded back and as I began playing the opening on my mama’s guitar, Aaron came in with the violin and Jack soon came in with the bass.  

By the chorus, Daniel came in with a soft drum beat and as I passionately sung out the chorus, I could already hear some people cheering or whistling at me.

She was driving last Friday on

Her way to Cincinnati on a

Snow white Christmas Eve Going home to see her mama and her daddy

With the baby in the backseat Fifty miles to go, and she was running low

On faith and gasoline It'd been a long hard year She had a lot on her mind,

And she didn't pay attention She was going way too fast Before she knew it she was spinning on a

Thin black sheet of glass She saw both their lives flash before her eyes She didn't even have time to cry She was so scared She threw her hands up in the air

Jesus, take the wheel Take it from my hands 'Cause I can't do this on my own I'm letting go So give me one more chance And save me from this road I'm on Jesus, take the wheel

*3rd Person POV*

Everyone was involved in hearing (y/n) sing.  Like her mama before her, the adults all whistled and cheered for the young girl for she truly did sound like her mama whenever she sang, maybe even better than her.  But the one most intrigued by her was the leading frontman of Queen.

“Just who is that talented young lady?” Freddie spoke out as (Y/n) played a small instrumental break in the first chorus.

“That there is (Y/n) (L/n). Her parents were known in this club. Her mama for her singing and her dad, God rest his soul, he was the world champion bull rider. She’s got a gift with that voice of hers.” Jensen said as he cleaned out a mug.

“She does indeed.” Freddie muttered in awe as he continued to watch (Y/n) sing the next part of the song.

There was one point of the song where she held out a note so long, it felt like she was running on endless air.  The crowd all hooted and hollered as she held that note before finishing the song.  Everyone soon cheered as loudly as they could while (Y/n) smiled under the spotlight and stood up from the stool and took a bow.

“Wow she was amazing.” Brian praised.

“I’ll say, she held that note for like 10 beats. Not even I can do that.” Roger said.

“Excuse me, Jensen.” Freddie called out.  Jensen who had just gotten done serving another round of drinks for a bachelor party, came back over and said.

“What’s up?”

“Where can we meet that talented young lady?” he asked him.  The other three band members looked at Freddie confused.

“She’ll be out back. That’s where she usually goes when things get too hectic here.”

“Thank you so much darling.” He dowsed the last of his vodka and stood up and walked out of the club with the other three members behind him.

*My POV*

After the performance I went outside to cool off. I stared up at the starry sky and whispered.

“I wish you could’ve seen it daddy. It seems I really wowed everyone tonight.”

“You did more than just that dear.” I froze and slowly turned around and—pinch me I must be dreaming.  Cause right there in front of me stood my all time favorite rock and roll band Queen.  I closed my eyes and shook my head trying to wake myself up from this dream and found that I wasn’t dreaming.

Freddie Mercury, Brian May, John Deacon and Roger Taylor were really right in front of me.

“You—you’re……”

“Yes darling we know who we are. But what I’m more interested in is who you are. How long have you had that lovely voice for?” Freddie said as he came up to me and actually wrapped an arm around me.

“Well I uhh—for a while I guess.”

“And that was an original song you sang back there?” Brian asked.

“Yeah just…..a little something I came up with. Was it bad?”

“Au contraire darling, it was unlike anything we have ever heard. And that’s saying something.” Freddie said.

“Really?”

“Absolutely. The way you managed to have utter control of your voice as you belted out certain words of the song. Only one other person has been able to do that and that’s me.” Freddie bragged.

“Umm hello what about me?” Roger piped in.

“Oh yes you and your dog whistle range. That takes skill too.” I softly chuckled.  Man this was definitely not how I pictured this night would go (well except in my dreams). “Now then (Y/n). How would you like to be an opening number for our concert?” wait what?

“What?” I asked.

“What?” I heard the other three echo back.

“You’ve got the voice, the talent, you are too good for just singing at the clubs. What better way than to finally dive in and take this opportunity.”

“Uhh Fred can we talk to you for a second?” John soon spoke up.

“Just stay tight for a moment (Y/n) dear.” Freddie said as he bopped my nose before walking back towards his bandmates.  Okay what the hell just happened?

*3rd Person POV*

Freddie and the boys walked a few feet away from (Y/n) so that she couldn’t hear them.

“Fred are you crazy right now?” Roger hissed softly.

“What?”

“We can’t just go picking up random singers off the streets and ask them to open up for us!”

“I agree with Roger. No offense, but I don’t think Reid or even our tour manager Bill will go along with this.” Brian added.

“You don’t believe she’s worth giving a shot too?” Freddie asked.

“No, no it’s not about that. She is talented, beyond talented. We just—can’t do something like this. Picking up a random teenager and ask her to leave everything behind for the rest of our tour.”

“They do have a point Freddie. Plus how do we know she even wants this? I mean maybe she just sings for fun. To be honest I never thought we were that serious till our first album went on the shelf.” Deacy said.

“Okay first off that hurts Deacy dear. How dare you think that. And number 2, I have a feeling she does want it. She may not physically show it but there’s something in her eyes that show that she wants a chance at the real spotlight. And who am I to crush a fellow singer’s dream? Especially one as beautiful and adorable as her, just look at her!” they all turned towards her. “Who knows, maybe we’ll get an additional family member in our rag-tag band.”

“Whoa wait hold on now you’re saying we need another person involved with Queen?” Roger snapped.

“I’m thinking broadly Roger dear. Don’t be so dramatic about it darling. Now then, are you three with me?” Brian, Roger and John looked at each other and Deacy was the first to speak up.

“You’ll never let it go either way. I’ll say yes.” Fred smiled before turning to Brian.

“I mean—” he sighed heavily. “Okay fine, she can come with us. But only if her parents say it’s okay.”

“Well blondie?” Fred questioned as he turned to Roger.  Roger sighed heavily and said.

“I’m already ruled-out even if I say no.” Freddie cheered and hugged his bandmates before heading back over to (Y/n) to discuss his brilliant idea.

*My POV. 1 year later*

If you had told me that on the night I would perform my first original piece live before the people at Cowboys and then told me I would soon be standing before Queen, who not only saw me sing but also offered me the chance to perform alongside them, I would’ve called you crazy and laughed in your face.

But it happened.  With Jensen’s and uncle Bobby’s approval I was able to tour the rest of the North American tour with Queen.  I’ll admit it was frightening to perform in front of my first crowd of over 12,000 people, but once I got on that stage and just sang it felt good.

We had just gotten done doing a concert at the Hammersmith Odeon.  As par-celebration we all headed to a nearby pub the guys had rented out for the night and anyone who was involved with the concert was invited to come.

By 1am everyone was either completely drunk and were passed out on the floor, or they were having sex in the bathrooms. Wanting to perk myself up, I went to the restrooms to splash some cold water on my face but before I could walk around the corner toward the sinks I heard some girls talking.

“I mean don’t get me wrong Roger is amazing especially in the sack but why would he allow someone like her on stage?”

“Yeah all those songs she sings are soooooo boring!” I peeked around to see that the girls who were talking were some of Roger’s groupies.

“Queen is just being dragged by that little bitch who can’t sing for shit.”

“All her songs about Jesus or God or whatever. She doesn’t fit with them. I think they just pitied her so she could go on stage and sing her little country songs.” It was a stab to the heart.

I raced out of the bathroom and tried to contain my tears.  But it only got worse from there.  Walking pass the men’s bathroom were a few of the roadies who were talking about me.

“She brings to band down don’t you think? I mean her songs just aren’t up to par with where Queen is at. In fact I’ve seen sales going down at our concerts because of her.”

“Dorothy should’ve just stayed in Kansas singing for pubs. She’s nowhere near concert stadium material.” At that point a few tears ran down my face.

Was I? Was I really that bad? Did the guys really pity me? Was this all a big joke to them? I ran out the back way and just ran down through the streets of London.  

Not caring where I was going, or where I’d end up. I just figured the father I ran, the farther I would be away from those people and their cruel comments.

The next morning I was at my apartment (technically it was Freddie’s old apartment that he and his ex-girlfriend Mary had) lying on the couch holding the couch pillow close to me.  The things that the groupies and even some of the roadies said last night still rang through my head like a church bell.

Maybe I should give it up. I mean after all like they said, no one really listens to me perform.  So I decided to pack up my stuff and go back to America, back to Oklahoma, maybe try to get a job at Cowboy’s or something.  As I was packing up my last bag, the door suddenly opened and I heard Roger’s voice call out.

“Oi (n/n) you here?” shit why did Freddie have to give out spare copies of the keys?

“(Y/n) you in here?” I then heard Deacy’s voice speak up.  Oh great, not one but two of the Queens are here.

“Is everything okay poppet?” Brian’s voice echoed out. Great could this day get any worse?

“Everything’s fine.” I called out to them.  I quickly came out of my room and shut the door before walking towards the living room. “Hey guys what’s up?”

“Well you disappeared from the party last night darling so we came to see just why that was?” Freddie said.

“You didn’t sneak off with anyone last night did yah?” Roger teased.

“No! I—I felt kinda tired after last night’s concert so I just took a cab home.” I gave them a white lie.

“Why didn’t you tell one of us you were leaving? You know how dangerous the streets can be at night.” Roger said as he plopped himself on the couch.

“I’m not some fragile flower Rog. I can handle myself.”

“I know you can. I just can’t help it sometimes, you’ve become like another sister to me, plus Jensen made me promise to keep an eye on you less he shoot me in the arse.” I rolled my eyes as I chuckled.

“(Y/n) dear~” Freddie sang out as he peeked from the hallway. “If you don’t have anyone here, then why is your door shut?” oh shit.  I quickly turned towards him and he just grinned as he raced towards my room.

“Fred no! Don’t!”

“Oh so there is a handsome beast you’re trying to hide from us!” I ran behind him trying to stop him from getting in my room. “Oh-ho-ho this must be serious then, he not dressed or something?”

“No Freddie there’s no guy now please don’t go in my room!”

“Technically it was my room first so I get first—” he opened the door and that’s when he saw the suitcases.  “What’s all this?”

“I didn’t want you guys to see that.”

“So what were you planning on leaving without saying goodbye!?” By now I’ve seen Fred literally explode on some major temper tantrums but this—this wasn’t anger.  This was disappointment, and when Fred lowers his voice, looks you straight in the eye almost to the point where it’s like his eyes are piercing your soul, that really tears you up.

And you never want to make Freddie Mercury disappointed in you.  Cause let me tell you, it is the worst.

“Fred—”

“No, no, no. Please I would like to know as well.” Roger’s voice soon rung out.  I groaned internally as I turned to see the remaining three band members standing right outside my door.

Roger’s eyes glaring right at me with his arms crossed over his chest.  Brian’s eyes in shock at seeing the suitcases, and Deacy—he looked like he was about to cry.

“Well!” Roger snapped impatiently.

“Hey Rog lay off on her will yah?”

“Brian are you not as upset as we are about this?!” Fred asked.  At this point the three hotheads began screaming at each other.  God this was a nightmare!  I was hoping to just leave without any drama and now I’ve done and caused it!  I held my hands to my ears and shut my eyes trying to drown out their shouting and screaming.

Next thing I know I feel a hand on my shoulder. I opened my eyes and there stands Deacy. His eyes soft, not looking at me in anger or disappointment.  He gestured with his head to follow him and the two of us snuck out of my room.

We both sat down on the couch, him sitting close to me as his arm wrapped around me.

“Do you want some tea?” he asked me.  I shook my head no.

“Umm…..I don’t know if I’ve totally ruined this but—could I get a hug?” a soft smile spread across his face and immediately his arms wrapped around me.

“You know you will always get a hug out of me sis.”

Since Deacy and I were the youngest members of the band, we kinda clicked more than the rest.  Guess our shy natures also kinda mixed in together so we kinda had our own special psychic bond with each other.  We always knew what the other was thinking or needed, we would pull the other aside when things got too chaotic (just like now cause I never liked getting or hearing fights).

His fingers stroked through my hair as I adjusted my head so that it rested over his heart.  We sat there in comfortable silence (well besides the still arguing hotheads in my bedroom).

“I’m not good enough for you guys.” I finally confessed.

“What?”

“I—I heard some of Roger’s groupies and even some of your roadies literally talk about how I don’t fit with you guys. That I’m not even that good. Or that you guys just pitied me in order to help me get on stage.”

“I knew those tramps would be trouble.” I heard him mutter.

“But they’re right.”

“No they’re not.”

“Open your eyes Deacy!” I removed myself from his embrace. “My music and Queen’s music they just—don’t mix. I don’t do hard rock songs like you guys do. No rock fans are gonna wanna hear me sing just plain country or folk songs for 20 minutes. They’ll just be going out to get beer or go shag till you guys come up. I’m boring!”

“You’re not boring. Those arseholes are boring. If they can’t withstand a 20minute first act then they shouldn’t even be at one of ours. Because we most certainly perform longer than that.”

“Well you guys give a performance, not just a show. For me; it’s just me and my guitar. I mean yeah there’s people that may like a song or two from mine. Hell you guys allowed me to have a song on A Day at the Races and News of the World. But—in person I’m plain.”

“You’re raw.” I looked up at him confused. “I don’t mean raw in the sense of bad or disgusting. I mean you’re vulnerable. You don’t do the flashy lights, the loud hard rock of drums, or extremely, overbearing, long ass guitar solos.” I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “It’s just you up on that stage. Just you and your guitar.”

“And people should see you as that.” We looked up and finally ceasing their arguments, Freddie, Roger, and Brian now stood there.  Freddie came up behind me, Brian knelt down in front of me, and Roger sat to my right.

“But they don’t.” Freddie began to massage my shoulders.

“Darling when I first heard you sing back in the states, It was like anything I’ve ever heard in a female singer. You have this rawness that can make anything a song. You could write a song about taking the piss and it’d be a hit.” I rolled my eyes.

“More like a flush down the sewers.”

“Oi you need to stop with the negative thinking!” Roger playfully growled as he took my head between his hands and playfully shook it, almost as if he were trying to shake out the negative thoughts out of my head.  I couldn’t help but laugh at his antics as I tried to free myself.

“Cut it our Rog!” I laughed.  He stopped then said as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Forget about what those rotter’s said. Never, ever doubt your talent. Because you have got something that not even Queen could ever have.”

“And just what is that?” I asked doubtfully.

“Rawness. Like John said, it’s just you up on stage. Most of the rockstars like us come up glammed out to the max, prance about the stage and do the headbanging hits. You—you connect with the audience just as yourself. And if people can’t see that, then they’re fools.”

“So you guys didn’t pity me when you asked me to join you guys?”

“Absolutely not! Whoever says that you just tell me and they’ll be dropped like yesterday’s rotten tomatoes.”

“Thanks you guys. I—I really needed that.”

“Hey, you’re part of this family now. We look out for each other.” Brian said as he gently took my hands in his, his thumbs gently stroking the back of them.

“There’s just one last thing that needs to be taken care of to ensure you’re feeling your normal happy self again.” Freddie said.

Oh no. Please not that!  At this point all four of them had the look of evil on their faces.

“No. Guys don’t you dare!”

“Too late lovie, we gotta make sure you’re back to your full-fledged happy self again. And we’ve got Jensen to thank for sharing with us your deep, dark secret.” I tried to make a run for it but it was too late, Brian trapped me in his long arms and soon I was gang tickled by Queen.

A couple weeks after that, we had just gotten done playing an arena in Houston, Texas.  Wiping the sweat off of my forehead (after not only doing a few of my own songs, but also joining alongside Queen playing guitar or piano) I accidentally bumped into someone.

“Oh sorry I—wasn’t paying attention.”

“That’s quite alright. Say you’re the young woman who just performed alongside Queen correct?” this man had a strong Tennessee accent.  From underneath his cowboy hat I could see sandy blonde hair and he had the most striking blue eyes.  He looked to be about his mid-40’s.

“Yes.” I said wearily.

“Oh sorry I know this must seem a bit creepy, please allow me to introduce myself. Stan Singer.” Wait what? Oh my god!

“Wait, Stan Singer? The Stan Singer, manager of Glen Campbell?”

“The very same, you a fan of his?”

“Yeah. My—my daddy first introduced me to him when I was just 5 years old.”

“Man has good taste.” We both laughed. “How long have you been performing with Queen?”

“A year.”

“A year? Now that I don’t believe.”

“Well truthfully I’ve been performing on stage back home in Oklahoma for a few years at a bar a family friend of mine owns. Cowboy’s.”

“No kidding. I was just there last month.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Quite a shindig that place.”

“Oh yeah, it gets crazy some days. But it’s the best place to go to.”

“Listen (Y/n), While I have enjoyed managing Glen and don’t get me wrong he’s a great guy and a great singer. I’m also looking out to see if there’s a next big thing I could help mold. And seeing you up on stage, you’ve got that special little niche in the realm of country singers. How about joining me for lunch so we can discuss a contract.”

“Me? You—you want to sign me up for a record deal?” I asked ecstatically.

“You’ve got something I’ve never heard from any male artist. Here’s my card, just give me a call whenever you’re ready to talk.” He handed me a business card and said his goodbyes as he tipped his hat at me.

Wow I—I can’t believe it.  I’m actually gonna get a real shot with my own manager.  And Glen Campbell’s manager, nonetheless.  I can’t believe this is actually happening to me.

Wait….what about the guys? What would they say? Would they be mad if I took this deal? Left them when we’ve already grown so close with each other?

During our bus ride to the next city of New Orleans, I was looking at Stan’s card debating whether I should call him or not.

“What’s that?” Roger spoke up.  He soon plopped down beside me with his arm over me. “Ooh a name and phone number! Already got yourself a groupie huh?” he teased as he nudged my shoulder.

“No Roger it’s nothing like that.” I nudged him back.

“Hey did I just hear (Y/n) got someone’s name and phone number?” Deacy soon piped in peeking his head from the curtains of his bunkbed.

“(Y/n) you sly little minx.” Freddie teased.  Oh man was I really not gonna miss this.

“Alright you guys lay off of her will yah. Now just who was it that gave you their phone number (Y/n)? Will there need to be any—talks we need to do with this boy?” Brian said.

“I already told Roger Bri, it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it? I mean normally a guy wouldn’t give you his number unless he wants a date or something else.” Roger spoke. Deacy came up and slapped Roger over the head. “Ow! What was that for?”

“For being an idiot.”

“It’s a business card guys! For Stan Singer. Glen Campbell’s manager.”

“Wait I’ve heard of that guy. Yeah he’s like one of the best country singers out there.” Roger said.

“Yeah. Well Stan actually saw the show tonight and well he—he offered to be my manager. He wants to sign up a contract with me.”

“Oh my god darling yes!” Freddie cheered as he came up and embraced me tightly.

“Congratulations (Y/n).” praised Brian.

“But—” I started off.  Fred separated from me and he said.

“But what dear? You’re finally on your way! This should be a celebration!”

“But what about us? You guys? What if—what if this is the last time we’ll ever see each other?” at that point the guys grew quiet. They looked at each other and that’s when Deacy spoke up.

“The future is uncertain. Maybe someday we will meet again. But (Y/n), if you don’t take this shot now you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

“It’s like Deacy’s song says. Time to spread your wings and fly away.” Brian said as he placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. I looked between the four of them and they all had the same look.

Acceptance and love.

I felt my eyes watering up and I choked out.

“I’ll miss you guys.” They immediately hugged me and told me they would miss me too.  We remained in that group hug for the rest of the night till we arrived in New Orleans later the next day.

As soon as we got to the hotel, the guys sat with me as I called Stan up and told him that I would like to have lunch with him to discuss the contract.  Stan agreed to fly down to New Orleans and once that date was made, the guys brought me in one last final group hug telling me how proud they were of me, that they loved me and knew that I would become big in my own way.

On June 27th, 1977 I preformed my last concert with Queen as their opening act and the following day, I met with my new manager Stan Singer and together we went over the rules of my contract.

By the end of the 1970’s into the 1980’s my name had flown to the top of the charts in country artists.  So far in the 3 years of my growing career I had toured America twice for my 2 albums I had released under Sony records.

As I expected I was mostly popular in the southern states where country music reigned supreme on the radio.  But I did have some fans in the northern, Mid-west and western countries but I mostly toured around the South.

I was now performing back in my home state of Oklahoma to an arena of 20,000 people.  I had just gotten done preforming my biggest hit “Jesus take the wheel” and everyone went crazy for it.

“Thank you!” I turned and saw one of my roadies hand me a stool and I thanked him before setting it down right at the edge of the stage.  I adjusted the mic stand as I sat down. “This is a new song that I wanted to do especially for you my home sweet home. So you guys will be the first to hear this song coming up on my next album.” The crowd cheered. “But this song is also dedicated to four special men in my life. Without them—I wouldn’t even be up on this stage before all of you. It’s called Ready now.”

Then with just me on the guitar I began to sing my newly finished song “Ready now”.  As I sang the song, during the long instrumental breaks, I thought back to the guys.

All the fun memories I had with them while on the road with them.  Being there with them during their recordings, getting to do a song on their albums, or hanging out at the bars together after the shows.

Play video

You saw through me All this time I'd forgotten People are kind

I was hurting And you knew So you showed me What to do

You said, "I will listen Tell it all When you're finished We'll talk more"

But I didn't know how So we took it in turns And to my surprise We found my words

Feet firm on the ground We stood hand in hand The world seemed to tell me That I have a plan

Together we sang I'm ready now

Something new Something strange Ten feet taller I had changed

I believe you I'm not wrong Oh it suits me To feel strong

You said, "I will listen Tell me it all You don't like the ending Then we'll find on that's yours"

Oh, how did you know That's all we need A promise of hope Is enough to feel free

Feet firm on the ground We stood hand in hand And I told the world That I have a plan

Together we sang I'm ready now

By the end of the song, I heard the crowd cheer and as I looked up at the ceiling I did a silent thank you to the boys.  Even though we would never see each other in our career’s again, I would always keep their memories alive in my heart and mind.

Without them, I would never have been ready to even get to this point.  And I will always be grateful to Queen.

#bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody movie #bohemian rhapsody imagines #bohemian rhapsody fanfiction #bohemian rhapsody imagine #bohemian rhapsody x reader #queen #queen band #queen imagine #queen imagines #queen x reader #queen x reader platonic #queen fluff #queen fanfic #queen fanfiction #brian may #roger taylor #john deacon #freddie mercury #freddie mercury x reader #john deacon x reader #brian may x reader #roger taylor x reader

[likesomekindofcheese]

We are all fools in love (Queen One-shot for LOC event)

Pairing: Roger Taylor x fem! Reader

Word Count: 2115

Summary: Roger Taylor’s your best friend...but looks like the band may need to give you a little push and you both need to admit the truth. Some good ol’ Friends to Lovers.

A/N: Hello @39-ers​! Here I am- your Secret Santa revealed!!Here is my gift to you for @dtfrogertaylor​ Level of Concern Event! It was fun to write and it was wonderful to get to know you- I hope you enjoy it!!! Also shout out to my beta @spicyspideyme​! for your quick eye and generous input!!

cw: swearing, smoking, bits and hints about sex (but no actual smut), and mentions of fictional violence. Freddie being the matchmaker like he always is in my fics. Matchmake me plz Freddie

“We’re gonna hold hands, but we aren’t together together!” Roger insisted as you walked through the park.

“How come?” you asked.

The autumn breeze chilled you a bit. A couple leaves fell right before your feet. Stepping on them, there was a satisfying crunch that made you smile. A few park workers were taking away the pumpkins for Halloween festivities and replacing them with banners promoting bonfires for November.

“Because I just don’t want you to get lost! This is a bloody huge city! And the crowds are big!” Roger explained, he waved his arms around the place.

The band and you had hit the dry hours. Other than a few workers, you barely saw a soul.

“I think you forgot…I live in this city. Same as you!” you retorted.

Roger shrugged, scratching the back of his head.

“I just want you to be safe!” he cried.

“Well if it makes you feel like I will be safe, I’ll do it” you said.

Pouting slightly, you accepted his large, smooth hand and continued your walk. 

Though the other three just keep laughing in the back at you two making little fusses just like that, eyeing each other at the odd comment and mouths tight shut to keep themselves from laughing.

“It’s like they’re married already,” Brian observed, tightening his red scarf.

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but…something has got to got to happen…” John commented.

Freddie waited until you and Roger were far enough away and then turned to the others.

“I’m sick of it! And they are sick of it too! You see it- of all of the sweet glances when the other one isn’t looking! And I’m so fucking sick of hearing Roger keep talking until the cows come home about “how bloody lovely y/n is,” or “y/n did this and it’s amazing! No one’s as smart as y/n!’” he added, lifting his voice up a few pitches to mimic Roger’s.

“Are you lost or what!?” you called behind, looking at the three.

Without another word, Fred led the way quietly for the rest of the walk. But his mind was restless.

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Roger insisted on visiting the vintage shop with you by his side the next day. Not that much had changed in a day, you said. He refused to hear of it.

Opening the door, you were greeted by a retail worker who pointed you to the rack of sale items. There was the smell of old leather and furs already deep in your nose as you noticed a coat from at least the forties. 

This is Perfect.

You perused prices, ranging from the extreme to the frugal. 

But Fred, knowing you both visited regularly, came in. He stayed away, half hiding behind some blue dresses at least a decade old. 

“Doing anything Sunday, Rog?” you asked.

“I’ve got nothing on Sunday, Sundays are always boring!” he complained.

He stared in shocked awe at a garish orange blouse with ruffles on it before moving to the next item.

“Rog, I think Sundays are nice! They’re quiet, peaceful…”

“Ha! You think! It’s too bloody quiet and only the church is open,” he interjected.

Turning your head, you folded your arms crossly.

“Sunday’s are nice, Rog!” 

One certain outfit caught your eye when you noticed the mannequin, but checking the price tag you shook your head and let out a small sigh.

“Wanna bet!?” Roger said, offering a hand to you with a smile.

Fred stifled a laughter following the ridiculous little bout. He even bent his legs to hide deeper behind the fifties dresses with starched, crinoline skirts.

“No, no need to bet. There are horror movies that come on Sunday night, I’ll show you! You know how much I love horror movies!” you begged.

Roger’s eyes lit up and he blinked. Then his smile returned rather than his immature pout.

“Really, what channel?”

“Rog, you really have to know. Do you really just go to bars and clubs on Sundays? Just get drunk?”

‘Well, at least they aren’t boring, Y/N!” he argued.

Rolling your eyes, you walked over to where there were pants for women. But you couldn’t help but smile. Roger was an intelligent man. He was just an intelligent man with the instincts of a child sometimes. Secretly it always charmed you.

“Whatever just come over. And don’t get drunk. Not yet,” you said.

Freddie had a deep smile on his lips. He stayed hiding in the shop until you both left. He looked right at the outfit you were eyeing.

This is perfect he thought.

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

On Sunday afternoon, there is a red blouse and the nicest pair of pants you had ever seen on your bed, laid out, fresh from the vintage shop. 

Your jaw dropped and you held back a small scream at the sight. The shirt you found was a blouse: smooth as silk. The pants fitted you perfectly: lighter colored with a subtle pattern.Walking in front of the mirror, you looked nicer than you ever had before.

Next to where your clothes had been was on a small piece of paper with typewriting on it:

“Thought you’d like it! Please wear tonight! MY gift! XXXX- Rog” 

“Well…it’s not too girly and it’s not racy at all…but I better put on a jacket to make it safe.”

Biting your lip, you looked at it in the mirror, examining every inch.

But no. Roger could not have meant it. Not for you at least. You knew there had to be some girl. He would buying lingerie for her. There were always crowds of women after him at parties. He was always calling women up and talking to them. 

“There’s just some chick he’s crazy about and he isn’t telling me because he doesn’t want to make it weird…or maybe he’s really into Fred or John or something.”

The thought always made you sad.

“Still, wouldn’t hurt to doll up though, especially if he asked for it…” you thought, feeling that brief glimmer of hope in your belly.

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

As Roger sat in his home, reading while smoking his cigarette like a meditation, there was a sudden knock on the door.

“I’m back already!” Fred announced, slightly muffled from the door blocking the way.

When he walked over, Roger could barely breathe a hello when Fred leaned over closely, taking in a large whiff.

“Oh! You’re smoking! I’m dying for one myself- let’s go out!” he announced, his ringer hand grabbing Roger’s arm.

“It’s fine in here, why?” 

Freddie flashed his full smile and waved away the apartment entrance. Though at the force Roger was being pulled out it was as if he didn’t have a choice

“Well, darling, you don’t need the landlord on your neck for any reason: and it’s lovely tonight! Moon and stars and all that!” he declared.

They wandered out, talking about everything in between blowing out grey smoke. Though Freddie was changing subjects fast and talking a mile a minute, even for Roger’s standards. But he kept up. 

Until he heard her. Y/N’s footsteps and their certain rhythm.

You saw your friends on the side of the block, right outside the flat complex. Finally, you walked up in a light coat, a little odd from the feeling of the outfit. 

Oh God, I’ve known both of them for years…why am I suddenly feeling so odd? I look…I must look like a groupie to them, not myself.

“Oh, Y/N! How are you, dear?” Freddie greeted, waving his arms up.

Waving back, you gave him a small hug. Right as you greeted Roger, you heard Freddie ring out from behind you.

“Have to head out! I’ve got to meet someone for a drink- a sudden date, you would say! Farewell, loves! I’ll return later, Rog!”

He was practically waltzing away from the two of you. There was a pause. The breeze picked up and you held your coat tighter for warmth.

“S’bloody cold, Y/N, let’s go in,” Roger offered. 

He walked into the complex to where his door was. As he took out his key to the door, you began to talk, albeit shyer than usual.

“By the way, thank you for the gift.”

Roger turned to you, head tilted and squinting.

“Huh? What gift?” he asked.

As his key went in, he noticed it was already unlocked. Barely shrugging it off, he opened the door.

It was filled with candles and roses. 

You both gasped, a little shocked and smiling. Though your insides felt like butter. There was distant patter of footsteps a few feet away, like a small stampede of horses. But when you glanced out to the other doors there was no one.

“Roger, it…it looks beautiful!” you praised.

“Why it…it does, but Y/N…I didn’t do it,” he confessed.

He looked down and scratched his head. His cheeks were the color of the rose petals.

“What, really?” you asked.

As you took off your jacket casually to hang it up in the coat closet, Roger kept staring at your outfit. Now his whole face matched the roses.

“That’s…pretty weird. But…nice of them. The boys, I mean.”

“I just got this outfit with a card saying it was from you,” you recalled.

Roger huffed and scuttled over to the chairs and turned the knob on his tv set. He continually checked his watch to be safe for the time.

“Anyway, uh, films on, let’s…let’s watch it!” he blubbered.

 And the mysterious gifts and their origin were left ignored. 

Roger folded his arms and tried his best to stare at the movie best he could, biting back almost a laugh or even a smile.

But as the killer in the movie was revealed, stabbing his screaming victims, you felt Roger’s eyes continually wander to you. First in flutters. Then in glances. Then in staring. You knew because everything you looked up briefly at him, his yellow head turned away.

Both of you sat still. Neither one asked the other for a drink or a snack or anything as the movie went on.

“You do look, really…really nice Y/N,” he complimented.

Your head flipped over. The breath in you stopped and you felt it suddenly flush back in, going a little dizzy.

“I mean, you’ve always looked nice and I swear, I never really…you just look especially nice tonight!” he clarified.

Smiling, you mumbled a thank you, while looking down at your lap.

As the movie went on, you both relaxed a little more. Your shoulders dipped down. A natural grin let up your face. You saw one on Roger as well.

Roger’s hand moved closer. Inch by inch. Then you felt it over yours.

Sweating, you accepted it. Although now the sudden threat of a masked serial killer that lurked in the night was nothing compared to your reality.

You scooted closer to Roger. He scooted closer in kind.He looked into your eyes. You looked in his. 

“Roger…I…just…I just…” you blubbered, words running out before you could stop them.

“What is it?” he asked.

Now they dashed out as quick as the breaking of a dam.

“I’ve always liked you but…liked liked you- oh god, I must sound like a kid.”

“You don’t, you…you actually make perfect sense!” Roger answered, he began to chew his lower lip.

“What d’you mean?”

“I…I’ve loved you! It sounds ridiculous coming out of me- I am not a sap! I swear! I hate sappy things! But, but-but I’ve always wanted to just scream it from the top of some hill- I love you!” he confessed.

He put a hand against your face, gently caressing it. You leaned in closer to it, almost shivering from the sensation. Softly, Roger leaned forward too.

“Oh, for god’s sake,” he cursed right before tilting his head and kissed you.

It was wet and you could taste the chicken he ate and the strong tobacco from the smoking. He was so close, and so warm, with the smell of sweat and shampoo. You felt your hands go over his arm, pulling him closer. 

You pulled away, and then you went in for another kiss, to make sure it was all real. His hands went to your back and pressed you against him closer. You were one mind and flesh for only a few seconds. Both of you pulled away briefly. There were a few soft chuckles released with a puff of released breath. He then pressed a forehead to yours. Your eyes closed for a second, feeling it, taking it all in. The two of you were breathing in unison, feeling that space between you that was desperate to be filled back again, to finally disappear.

Meanwhile outside, Freddie only leaned against a stoplight, barely looking at the window of the place. Brian and John stood by him, with their hands in their pockets. Seeing the light go out in Roger’s place, they all knew their job was done and they left to celebrate.

Taglist: @queenlover05​ @stardust-killer-queen​

#loc event #level of concern event #roger taylor #carrie writes #friends to lovers #idiots in love #dtfrogertaylor #39-ers #roger taylor x fem! reader #roger taylor oneshot #roger taylor friends to lovers #roger taylor x fem! y/n #roger taylorx reader #roger taylor x y/n #roger taylor x you #roger taylor angst #roger taylor fluff #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor fanfiction #queen fanfic #queen fanfiction #freddie mercury #john deacon #brian may

[papermoonloveslucy]

TIGHT SHOES

April 12, 1942

The Gulf Screen Guild Theater present Damon Runyon’s comedy Tight Shoes, which was a 1941 Universal Pictures success. 

Directed and Hosted by: Roger Pryor

Music by: Oscar Bradley

Written by: Damon Runyon

The Screen Guild Theater (aka The Screen Guild Players), was one of the most popular drama anthology series during the Golden Age of Radio. At this point it is being sponsored by Gulf Oil. From its first broadcast in 1939, up to its farewell in 1952, it showcased radio adaptations of popular Hollywood films. Many Hollywood names became part of the show, including Bette Davis, Bing Crosby, Clark Gable, Judy Garland, Frank Sinatra, and many more. The actors’ fees were all donated to the Motion Picture Relief Fund, an organization that provides aid to retired actors. Screen Guild Theater was heard on different radio networks, beginning with CBS from 1939 to 1948, NBC from 1948 to 1950, ABC from 1950 to 1951, and back to CBS until its last episode on June 29, 1952. Throughout its run, a total of 527 episodes were produced.

Tight Shoes was a 1941 comedy film directed by Albert S. Rogell based on the 1936 story of the same name by Damon Runyon. The film was produced by Universal Pictures. It was re-released in November 1947. 

The Daily Variety review called the film "...the closest interpretation of the Damon Runyon humor that has yet been brought to the screen." 

The story was again broadcast on radio as part of “The Damon Runyon Theater” on October 30, 1949. The cast included Alan Reed, Gerald Mohr, Frank Lovejoy, Herb Vigran, Sheldon Leonard, William Conrad, Jeff Chandler, Lionel Stander, Sidney Miller, Olive Deering, and Joe De Santis.

RADIO CAST

Lucille Ball (Sybil Anderson) plays the role originated in the film by Binnie Barnes. She had just released her film Valley of the Sun, which was her 54th film since coming to Hollywood in 1933. 

Sylvia Ash is the self-described “Biggest Star on Broadway”. In the film version, Sybil’s last name is Ash. 

Red Skelton (Swifty Miller) plays the role originated in the film by Broderick Crawford. He also starred with Lucille Ball in the films Having Wonderful Time (1938), Thousands Cheer (1943),  Du Barry Was A Lady (1943), Ziegfeld Follies (1946), and The Fuller Brush Girl (1950).  On TV he appeared on “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour” in “Lucy Goes To Alaska” (1958). Ball and Skelton appeared in numerous TV specials together.

In the film version, the character is known as Speedy. 

George Tobias (Blooch) plays the role originated in the film by Edward Gargan. He later appeared with Lucille Ball in the film The Magic Carpet (1951). 

SYNOPSIS

Shoe store owner Amalfi is forced by crook Swifty Miller to allow the business to be a front for illegal gambling. Jimmy Rupert is a clerk in the store and sells a pair of shoes to Miller that are too small and hurt his feet. Distracted by his pinched feet in the tight shoes, Swifty places a losing bet on the horse named Feet First. A fight ensues with his girlfriend Sybil and she leaves him. He blames his loss on Rupert and gets him fired from the shoe store. In response, Rupert complains about crooked politicians who allow crime to flourish, and successfully runs for office. He is opposed by the newspaper, but supported by Miller's ex-girlfriend Sybil. On the day he wins the election, Rupert and Sybil are engaged to be married. 

“TIGHT” TRIVIA

This is not Lucille Ball’s only time appearing in a script by Damon Runyon. She often said her favorite performance of hers was in The Big Street (1946), based on the Runyon story “Little Pinks”.  Lucille Ball did another Damon Runyon story, Sorrowful Jones in 1949, based on his 1932 story “Little Miss Marker,” which had previously been filmed in 1934. Damon Runyon also created the source material for the hit Broadway musical Guys and Dolls (1950), which starred Robert Alda, who went on to make several appearances on “The Lucy Show.” When the film version was made by MGM in 1955, Lucy and Desi were also under contract to the studio. A brief clip of the film was inserted into the middle of an episode of “I Love Lucy” called “Lucy and the Dummy” (S5;E3), although the clip was removed after its initial airing.

Because it was wartime, the Gulf commercials stressed using high-grade gas and motor oil to reduce waste and conserve. 

The story is told in flashback, starting with Swifty Miller in the Army, giving advice to a soldier who wants to burn his shoes because they are hurting his feet. 

“He bet fifty thousand dollars on a nag called Feet First to come in head first, but it was dead first, and carried out feet first.” ~ Sybil  

Like most characters in Runyon stories, Swifty and Sybil are gamblers, and like going to the racetrack.  Lucy and Desi also were fond of horse racing, and frequently attended racing at Del Mar in California. Several episodes of Lucy sitcoms were modeled around racing and racehorses. 

Mr. Amalfi wonders if the government still prints $10,000 bills. He is correct! The bill was last printed in 1934. Even in 1942 there were not many in circulation. Today they are very rare, and the highest value US bill to be accepted for a transaction. 

Swifty says he has bought a new victory suit. Sybil wonders if the victory was at Bull Run? The Battle of Bull Run was the first major battle of the American Civil War. The battle was fought on July 21, 1861. Sylvia is intimating that his suit is woefully out of style. 

Swifty says he’d do anything for Sylvia, even tear up his autographed picture of Roger Pryor. Pryor was a leading man of Broadway and Hollywood, doing 50 films between 1930 and 1945. He was married to Lucille Ball’s friend and co-star Ann Sothern, but the couple divorced the same year this radio show aired. 

“I’m off my onion for ya, sweet pea. Or maybe it’s just gas pushin’ up under my heart.” ~ Swifty

When Sybil entertains at the political rally, the orchestra plays “My Heart Belongs To Daddy” written by Cole Porter for  the 1938 Broadway musical Leave It to Me. Marilyn Monroe would sing it in the 1960 film Let’s Make Love. Lucille Ball sings it on “The Lucy Show” in “Lucy the Gun Moll” (TLS S4;E25) on March 14, 1966. In this radio show, Lucille Ball does not sing, we merely hear the orchestra playing. 

A radio reporter talks about the local election using fictional names, but when mentioning the national election, he says “Roosevelt is leading Wilkie.”  This places the date of the action on November 5, 1940, when incumbent Franklin D. Roosevelt handily defeated Republican challenger Wendell L. Wilkie for President of the United States. Swifty talks back to the radio and says “Yeah, we know that.”  Due to the war, Roosevelt sought an unprecedented third term, and very few expected him to be defeated in light of his popularity. 

When Jimmy objects to Swifty’s tone around Sybil, Swifty calls him “Emily.”  This is a reference to well known authority on etiquette, Emily Post (1872-1960).  She was an author, whose newspaper columns and radio broadcasts were very popular in the 1940s. 

The show ends with a promotion for next week’s show “A Woman’s Face” starring Bette Davis, Osa Massen, and Conrad Veidt. The 1941 film originally starred Joan Crawford in the role taken by Davis. Massen and Veidt reprise their roles from the MGM film directed by George Cukor. 

The announcer says that Lucille Ball will soon be seen on screen in Little Pinks, which was the working title for The Big Street, also by Damon Runyon.  

#Lucille Ball #Red Skelton #Damon Runyon #Tight Shoes #George Tobias #Gulf Oil #Screen Guild Theatre #radio #A Woman's Face #Emily Post #My Heart Belongs To Daddy #Wendell Wilkie #Franklin Roosevelt #Roger Pryor #Bull Run

[ladywynneoutlander]

Heart’s Abundance

More sweet times on the Ridge as William finds his place.

Part 2 Hearthside

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 , Part 6

After our harvest meal the afternoon passes in pleasant repletion. The adults scatter to various corners to doze and chat. Jem, Germain, and Fanny disappear outside. I can hear them laughing as I lay a quilt over a sleeping Mandy. She took to John Quincey immediately, and is now curled up beside him on the settle.  

This state of peaceful repose lasts approximately an hour. Then Jamie stands and stretches himself, back popping. He looks at William, “Will ye walk wi’ me? I can reacquaint you with the place.”

William stands as well, nodding, “Yes, of course.” He remains a bit formal, and I wish I knew more about their last meeting.

I watch them from the kitchen door as they go, boots crunching the fallen leaves with each step, so alike in gait and height that no one could fail to see them for what they are, a father and his son.

When I turn around Ian is there with his baby in his arms. He stares thoughtfully at the door for a moment before sitting down at the table. He says nothing and I wait patiently, taking the baby and feeling his warm heavy weight. Finally, Young Ian turns to me, “Ye know Auntie, I don’t know why yon man has come, but I think maybe it’s to do with you as well as Uncle Jamie.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so Ian. Whatever would William want with me?”

Ian gives a small smile, “Maybe he needs ye.”

I gently rock the baby, not looking up as I say, “No. What use could I possibly be?”

Ian touches my arm to draw my attention. His brown eyes are soft. “Ye can be kind. Ye can be a comfort.”  

His voice becomes more matter-of-fact. “The Mohawk do say women are great healers of body and spirit. They provide strength and consistency to all.” He smiles at me, “Maybe William needs to find his strength just now.”

I nod, but I’m not convinced. “Maybe.”

We sit a moment longer, enjoying the peace. I smooth the baby’s soft downy hair, then give him my finger, watching in fascination as the tiny hand closes around it even in sleep.  

Finally, Ian moves to go. “Just think on it, Auntie, aye?” He takes the little one and leaves to find Rachel.  

I stay by myself for a time, and it comes to me how much William has been through. The loss of two mothers (three if you count me) and Jane. Consistency indeed. Also, the loss of his very identity. He had been loved, that much I knew, but must feel very alone and confused just now. I remember how difficult the same situation was for Brianna. She felt heartbroken and torn, betrayed. Compassion wells in me, and as the sun sinks behind the trees I feel a tear slide warm down my cheek.

                                                            -o0OOO0o-

That evening, lying close and warm next to Jamie, I hear how their meeting went.  

Jamie took the boy to the White Spring, that place of truth. William was quiet on the trail, turned inward. When they arrived, Jamie broke the thin scrim of ice and took a cold mouthful. William did the same, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.  

Jamie settled himself on a boulder and smiled at the boy.  “So, if ye’ll forgive my asking, what brings ye to the Ridge?”

William didn’t answer immediately. He sat as well and drew in a deep breath before speaking. “First, I should like to thank you for your assistance in the matter of Jane, and also for the care you’ve given her sister.”

Jamie waves his hand in dismissal, “’Twas nothing lad. Any decent man would have done the same.”

William gave a mild snort, “I take leave to doubt that. Still, not any man did. You did, and with barely a thought. I knew M--,” he hesitated, then went on, “Mother Claire, both she and my father say you are an honorable man. Apparently, they are right.”

They sat with this for a moment, admiring the slant of golden sunlight through the yellow of chestnut and birch. When William didn’t say more Jamie ventured, “The thought had occurred to me that ye may be in some trouble?” He made the last into a question.

William shrugged irritably. “No. Not trouble exactly. I have someone to find, my cousin Ben, but I cannot continue in that search until spring. That’s not why I’m here.” He stood up suddenly, and paced a bit before taking a deep breath and facing Jamie squarely. “I have come to ask if I might stay for a time. Here,” he adds, as if there were doubt, “on Fraser’s Ridge.”

Jamie was surprised, but quickly brought his face back to neutrality. He still thought William likely needed help in some way, but maybe it isn’t the kind he needed before. He stood and extended a hand, grasping the lad’s shoulder. “Aye, of course, ye’re always welcome.”

Wiliam takes a step backward, away from him, but not in a harsh way. “Thank you. I don’t require anything. I can sleep in the barn or wherever is convenient.”

Jamie smiled at him, “Aye, that’s good, but we can likely find ye a bed.”  

They made their way home in the last light of the day. Jamie felt as though a new path had opened before him, unknown and steep, but one that led to a bonny place.  

                                                             -o0OOO0o-

The next day we bid farewell to John Quincey, off to overwinter with the Cherokee. William stays. He gradually fits into the routine of the Ridge; hunting, doing farm chores, and joining Roger or Bree whenever they venture out. He is beloved instantly by the children, playing with the boys, talking with Fanny, and carrying Mandy perched high on his shoulder. Still, he is mostly quiet, listening and observing.

I can tell Brianna is pleased, eager to embrace this new brother. William seems equally in awe of her, and they seem to find joy in each other. More than once I catch Jamie watching them, a look of quiet happiness on his face.  

One day I come into the study to find Jamie looking out the window. Outside Brianna and William are exercising the horses, walking them in circles and brushing their shaggy winter coats. He doesn’t turn, but he must have sensed me, because he holds his hand out toward me, inviting. I take it and he draws me against him. I circle my arms around his waist, and feel his arms come around me in turn, the warmth of him a comfort and a blessing.

Jamie is still engaged in the scene outside, “I never thought to see such a grand thing, Sassenach.”

I give him a squeeze of acknowledgement and laugh. “Neither did I! I nearly fell off the porch when I saw William.”

Jamie smiles as well, “Aye, and ye weren’t the only one.”

He holds me for a while longer. I look up at Jamie’s face, happy now, but with tiny lines framing his striking blue eyes. I can feel the scars on his back beneath his shirt, and it comes to me how many hardships he faced to bring us to this moment. I am moved with love for him, and lay a hand over his heart. “Jamie, I want you to know. I’m glad he’s here. We all are.”  

Jamie takes my hand and turns to face me fully, “I know ye are. You are a wonder, truly. He isna yours, and it isna right that he should be here to torment you. Thank ye Claire, for welcoming the lad.”

“Posh,” I say gently. “He’s yours, Jamie, for that alone I would love him. But also…” I pause, looking outside while I gather my thoughts. “Also, I love him for himself. He’s a fine boy and he was very kind when I spent time with him in Boston.” I know Jamie doesn’t like to recall my marriage to John Grey, but it matters here. “I think- maybe, I can be there for him, maybe be a sort of mother to him.”

Jamie doesn’t answer and I glance up. I am surprised to see unshed tears glimmer in his eyes. “He couldna have a finer one,” he says huskily. He pulls me close then, bends his head, and kisses me. His mouth is soft and his arms are strong, and all is warmth and hope between us.

                                                            -o0OOO0o-

The evenings are long in winter. It is the time for songs, and fires, hearth and home. When the family gathers late in the evening, the children tucked in bed, we often tell stories. We hear Highland tales of kelpies and fairies, farmers and lairds. We hear personal stories about family and friends, also C.S. Lewis, E.B. White, Louisa May Alcott, the lives of Saints, romantic poetry, and Greek heroes. And in each telling, regardless of the subject, we reveal a bit more of ourselves to one another.

It is nearly a fortnight before William tells a story of his own, venturing forth with a story about Sergeant Cutter that has laughter ringing from the rafters, fit to wake the entire Ridge. He speaks more often after that, sometimes tales of adventure, and rarely, of his boyhood. Once he even mentions a groom named MacKenzie.  

Tonight we are up particularly late, and the room has grown quiet. The air is heavy, and I know we will wake on the morrow under a blanket of white. Into this expectancy William speaks. Quietly, his elbows on his knees as he watches the hearthfire, he begins a story of Isobel.  

“Mother Isobel loved Christmas. She festooned every railing and mantel with greenery. The whole house smelled grand. Even if it were only the two of us, as it often was after we lost grandfather, we sang carols, and had pudding and candies. She made it special every year… magical. To a boy.” He pauses and we wait, listening to the gentle crackle and pop of dried pine wood.  

“One year there was a terrible storm. I remember the wind howling down the chimneys and causing the yule log to flare up and wave about. I was frightened and began to cry and whinge. I was a little devil truly. I was really crying from loneliness though, and from being left behind. Mother Isobel somehow knew the truth of it. She took me onto her lap and stroked my hair. ‘Willie, my darling, sometimes those we love cannot be with us. We may wish it fervently, but circumstances cannot be changed. Absence doesn’t mean they love us less, or we them. Indeed, it is often their care for us that keeps them away. They must do what is necessary. But remember love, they are never gone from our hearts.’”  

William looks at Jamie. “I thought those words ridiculous then. I felt abandoned, and I let my grief turn to anger at those who left me.” He takes a deep breath, “Now though, I think I understand, and I find Mother Isobel was wise indeed.”

“Aye, that she was,” Jamie says kindly.

We sigh collectively. Roger pulls a guitar into his lap, strumming a chord. “Let’s have a tune. A song to love’s sacrifices,” he says in his rough voice. He turns to Brianna and smiles. “They are always worth it.”

As Roger plays my mind wanders. First to William and his story. Yes, maybe healing of a kind is needed, hopefully has begun already. I will do all I can to help, and the peace of the Ridge will be a balm if William lets it. There is no outside world, no war here. Not yet. Not in winter.

The sacrifices of love. I remember Frank and dear Uncle Lamb. Then further, to Geillis, Dougal, Rupert, and Colum. They all loved, whether people or causes or places or things, and made their choices accordingly. And where were they now? I shudder and Jamie pulls me closer against him, a buttress against the past. I lean on him gratefully. We two know better than anyone the heavy sacrifice that true love can require, and times like this are all the more precious for the knowing. So I return to the present, put my head on Jamie’s chest, and simply listen.

Thanks for reading!  I promise family fun next week!

#outlander #heart's abundance

[elatedmarvel]

Exclusive: Life After the Shield

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summery: An inside exclusive with one Steven Rogers, years in the future.

Word Count: 1385

AN: Hello! Idk where this came from, but it was super fun to write. I hope you all enjoy. Thank you so much for reading. Feedback is always welcome. ~J

Warnings: none

The house is unremarkable, just another two story with a porch wrapped around it. The yard has bikes and mini cars thrown about and other outdoor toys strewn up the stairs to the front door. As this reporter knocks on the door, the sounds of paws clicking becomes more distinct, and a sharp bark is heard behind the heavy wood door. Someone comes to shush the pooch, and when the door opens there stands Captain Steve Rogers in all his glory.

He’s half kneeling, trying to get a good grip on the squirming dog but greets me anyways. “Sorry about him, he’s just excited, I promise he won’t bite.” he laughs as he welcomes me into his home.

It really is a home. 

Shoes, both little and big, line the entryway. Family portraits hang in the adjoining hallway, even shots of current and retired Avengers. A withered sepia colored one of a smaller Steve with a man who has Steve’s jawline, and a woman who has Steve’s eyes complete the set. “My parents, it just wouldn’t be right to have a picture wall without them” he says when he catches me taking a closer look. 

We walk further into the house and evidence of his children are everywhere. Toys that have yet to be put away in the hallways, their drawings hung on the fridge with pride, and a highchair at the dining room table. We can hear them yelling and laughing in the backyard as we settle into his office for the interview-- Steve having to remove the teddy bear and doll that was on his seat.

At first it’s obvious to just see him as Captain America . But here in the converted farmhouse, it’s easier to see him as a civilian. He’s not quite as angled and sharp as in his avenging days, something he attributes to his family's love of baking together. “My kids and I love to try new recipes,” he tells me later, “honestly I’m just glad I have the serum to keep me in shape.” 

His workout routine still impressive though. He tells me he tries to get up and run, and he still lifts weights on a regular basis. Going to the compound to spar with childhood best friend, Sergeant James Barnes on an almost daily basis-- who still kicks his ass like when they were younger.

“It’s getting easier with every kid though” he explains “with the first one I was so cocky that I bought a jogging stroller. Thought I’d be able to take Sarah with me on my runs and let my wife have some down time. I was so wrong, we were basically zombies that first few months. I never even put her in the damn thing.” 

Captain Rogers retired from active duty after his firstborn. Still in the Avengers reserve, he trains recruits and strategizes with the new team. “It was time to take a step back.” he reflects. “I’ve been fighting the good fight since the 1920s, I needed to live my own life now, be a present father and husband.” When asked about why he still affiliates with the Avengers he jokes that he couldn’t hand over responsibility completely, “I still have trouble with that, and I needed the money.” 

It’s abundantly clear how fond of his children the retired Avenger is. “They are the best things in my life. After I was frozen and came out in this century, I didn’t think I could have that family I always envisioned. I put my head down and did what I knew.” 

What changed all this? His wife. 

“She’s just everything to me. It’s like we met and everything just clicked into place.” he earnestly replies, “I’m not sure I would be where I am if it wasn’t her.” 

Mr. and Mrs. Rogers met in the Avengers Compound where she worked as a doctor. “She’s a spitfire, she never let me leave without examining me after a mission. She figured out I would hide some of my injuries, and she gave me crap for it.” he recounts. “She understood me the best. And she’s just this amazing person, you know she was in the army after med school and knew what it was like to be in combat. We could just talk for hours about anything, and that’s so special to me. The first time I told her I loved her was after she kicked my ass in a sparring session. She doesn’t take shit from anyone. Sorry, language!” he laughs. “Having kids really censored my foul language.” 

Turns out, their youngest Sammy, is just starting a phase where she repeats everything, “She gets me in trouble a lot with the wife. Set up a swear jar and everything, and if Sammy says the word then it’s $20 bucks.”

Their children’s cheerful smiles stare back at me from a picture on the desk. Three little cherubs; Sarah, James, and Samantha. “Sarah is definitely in charge” he smirks “she decides what they play and watch. But James is getting to the age where he’s starting to fight back some. He’s learning how much he can push back and get away with. It’s honestly so entertaining. Obviously Sammy is too young to know what’s really going on, but I have a feeling her and Sarah are going to gang up on James when they’re a little older.” 

Rogers seemed a little coy when asked about the possibility of adding a fourth child to the mix. “You know, it would be great to even the playing field, give James his own buddy. But Sammy’s still pretty young so we’ll see. We’ve talked about it for sure but no plans right now.” 

While there are no plans to add to the Rogers household human wise, they have added many fur babies to their fold since moving upstate. “I never thought I would leave the city, but Tony saw this listing and showed us. We fell in love instantly. It’s got plenty of room and like an acre of land or something crazy like that. It’s a good thing too because my wife keeps finding these animals to take in. You met Dodger earlier, he’s the newest addition.” 

Apparently, Dr. Rogers has a knack for finding animals that need a home. “I swear they seek her out and know she’s too soft to turn them away. We’ve got 4 cats, a dog, some chicks that are turning into chickens fast, and even some goats.” Steve swears the goats are just here until Bucky is able to find a suitable home for them, but it’s easy to tell he didn’t even believe himself. “I’ve just got to accept that we have a zoo. I’m sure in a few years we’ll add horses or something. Sarah’s been begging for one, and Uncle Tony doesn’t quite know how to tone down the gifting.” He chuckles.

As we sit and talk about future plans, Dr. Rogers comes knocking with a plate of cookies and a baby on her hip. She has to take the older two to music class and settles baby Sammy on her father’s lap. Instantly his eyes light up as he coos and talks to his youngest, Sammy herself giving us the biggest, gummy smile possible. She takes interest on a cookie and stuffs one in her mouth before anyone can stop her. “I guess there’s no harm in you just chewing on that, it’ll be our little secret baby” Rogers says to his daughter, pushing back some of her unruly hair and pressing kisses to her forehead. The rest of the interview goes by quickly, getting last moment clarifications and questions in-- Sammy chiming in more than once with her opinion. When Captain Rogers leads me to the doorway and bids me a farewell, Dodger tries to acquaint himself again.

With baby on hand and dog circling his feet, it’s easy to see just Steve Rogers. A caring husband, doting father, and overall happy man. One who has found purpose and life beyond the shield. A man right where he belongs.  

Edit: Since this interview six months ago, the Rogers’ have announced they have welcomed another little boy, Nathan. Here’s hoping they actually get to use that jogging stroller this time around. Congratulations to the happy family!

Tag:

@captainchrisfics

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fan fiction #steve rogers fan fic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #steve fanfiction #steve fic #steve fan fiction #steve fan fic #captain america fluff #captain america imagine #captain america fanfiction #captain america fan fiction #captain america fan fic #daddy!steve #daddy!steve rogers

[whatisthiswitchcraft]

books I read in 2019 (not including rereads, favorites are bolded!)

Come Close - Sappho

Shanghai Baby - Wei Hui

Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair - Pablo Neruda

Bad Feminist: Essays - Roxane Gay

The Mother of Black Hollywood: A Memoir - Jenifer Lewis

Sula - Toni Morrison

Reinventing the Enemy’s Language: Contemporary Native Women’s Writings of North America - ed. Joy Harjo and Gloria Bird

How to Write an Autobiographical Novel - Alexander Chee

Night Sky With Exit Wounds - Ocean Vuong

If They Come For Us - Fatimah Asghar

Heart Berries: A Memoir - Terese Marie Mailhot

Less - Andrew Sean Greer

The Astonishing Color of After - Emily X.R. Pan

Goodbye, Vitamin - Rachel Khong

Darius the Great is Not Okay - Adib Khorram

Exit West - Mohsin Hamid

Homegirls and Handgrenades - Sonia Sanchez

Heavy: An American Memoir - Keise Laymon

All You Can Ever Know - Nicole Chung

Unaccustomed Earth - Jhumpa Lahiri

The Wife Between Us - Greer Hendricks and Sarah Pekkanen

The Way You Make Me Feel - Maureen Goo

A Very Large Expanse of Sea - Tahereh Mafi

Water By the Spoonful - Quiara Alegría Hudes

I Can’t Date Jesus: Love, Sex, Family, Race, and Other Reasons I’ve Put My Faith in Beyoncé - Michael Arceneaux

Bury It - Sam Sax

White Dancing Elephants - Chaya Bhuvaneswar

Pulp - Robin Talley

Shit is Real - Aisha Franz

Silencer - Marcus Wicker

Forget Sorrow: An Ancestral Tale - Belle Yang

Bestiary: Poems - Donika Kelly

Monster Portraits - Sofia Samatar

No Matter the Wreckage - Sarah Kay

Violet Energy Ingots - Hoa Nguyen

Olio - Tyehimba Jess

The Kane Chronicles: The Serpent’s Shadow - Rick Riordan

There Are More Beautiful Things Than Beyoncé - Morgan Parker

Nylon Road: A Graphic Memoir of Coming of Age in Iran - Parsua Bashi

The Wedding Date - Jasmine Guillory

Fruit of the Drunken Tree - Ingrid Rojas Contreras

An American Marriage - Tayari Jones

Family Trust - Kathy Wang

Not That Bad: Dispatches from Rape Culture - ed. Roxane Gay

Little & Lion - Brandy Colbert

A Girl Like That - Tanaz Bhathena

Suicide Club: A Novel About Living - Rachel Heng

The Disturbed Girl’s Dictionary - NoNieqa Ramos

My Old Faithful: Stories - Yang Huang

Crazy Rich Asians - Kevin Kwan

Girls Burn Brighter - Shobha Rao

Moon of the Crusted Snow - Waubgeshig Rice

Kingdom Animalia - Aracelis Girmay

Happiness - Aminatta Forna

Devotions - Mary Oliver

The Proposal - Jasmine Guillory

The Kiss Quotient - Helen Hoang

When Katie Met Cassidy - Camille Perri

Heads of the Colored People - Nafissa Thompson-Spires

Friday Black: Stories - Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah

The Word is Murder - Anthony Horowitz

Miles from Nowhere - Nami Mun

The Lost Ones - Sheena Kamal

All the Names They Used for God - Anjali Sachdeva

Confessions of the Fox - Jordy Rosenberg

Love, Loss, and What We Ate: A Memoir - Padma Lakshmi

On the Come Up - Angie Thomas

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society - Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows

The Love & Lies of Rukhsana Ali - Sabina Khan

See What I Have Done - Sarah Schmitt

Convenience Store Woman - Sayaka Murata

I Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter - Erika Sánchez

For Today I Am A Boy - Kim Fu

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo - Taylor Jenkins Reid

Conflict Resolution for Holy Beings - Joy Harjo

They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us - Hanif Abdurraqib

Mongrels - Stephen Graham Jones

If Beale Street Could Talk - James Baldwin

Death of Innocence: The Story of the Hate Crime that Changed America - Mamie Till-Mobley and Christopher Benson

The Gilded Wolves - Roshani Chokshi

To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before - Jenny Han

The Perfect Nanny - Leila Slimani, translated by Sam Taylor

The Travelling Cat Chronicles - Hiro Arikawa, translated by Philip Gabriel

Things We Lost in the Fire - Mariana Enríquez, translated by Megan McDowell

Sunburn - Laura Lippman

The House of Impossible Beauties - Joseph Cassara

Freshwater - Akwaeke Emezi

A Private Life - Chen Ran, translated by John Howard-Gibbon

Invisible: The Forgotten Story of the Black Woman Lawyer Who Took Down America’s Most Powerful Mobster - Stephen L. Carter

Undead Girl Gang - Lily Anderson

They Both Die at the End - Adam Silvera

The Friend - Sigrid Nunez

Severance - Ling Ma

Tiny Crimes: Very Short Tales of Mystery & Murder - ed. Licoln Michel and Nadxieli Nieto

Mapping the Interior - Stephen Graham Jones

Give Me Some Truth - Eric Gansworth

How to Love a Jamaican - Alexia Arthurs

All of This is True - Lygia Day Peñaflor

Swimmer Among the Stars - Kanishk Tharoor

The Wicked + the Divine, Vol. 7: Mothering Invention - Kieron Gillen and Jamie McKelvie

This is Kind of an Epic Love Story - Kheryn Callender

Gingerbread - Helen Oyeyemi

Where the Dead Sit Talking - Brandon Hobson

The Ensemble - Aja Gabel

My Education - Susan Choi

More Happy than Not - Adam Silvera

Nobody Cares: Essays - Anne T. Donahue

Kiss and Tell: A Romantic Résumé, Ages 0 to 22 - Marinaomi

Oculus: Poems - Sally Wen Mao

Let’s Talk About Love - Claire Kann

History is All You Left Me - Adam Silvera

Opposite of Always - Justin A. Reynolds

The Crown Ain’t Worth Much - Hanif Abdurraqib

The Weight of Our Sky - Hanna Alkaf

If You See Me, Don’t Say Hi - Neel Patel

Girls of Paper and Fire - Natasha Ngan

What if It’s Us - Becky Albertalli and Adam Silvera

The Map of Salt and Stars - Jennifer Zeynab Joukhadar

October Mourning: A Song for Matthew Shepard - Lesléa Newman

The Big Smoke - Adrian Matejka

Dissolve - Sherwin Bitsui

The Woman Next Door - Yewande Omotoso

The Refugees - Viet Thanh Nguyen

White Tears - Hari Kunzru

Electric Arches - Eve Ewing

The Black Maria - Aracelis Girmay

Bloodchild and Other Stories - Octavia Butler

Soft Science - Franny Choi

The White Card - Claudia Rankine

Mad Honey Symposium - Sally Wen Mao

The Care and Feeding of Ravenously Hungry Girls - Anissa Gray

Next: New Poems - Lucille Clifton

The Marvelous Arithmetics of Distance: Poems 1987-1992 - Audre Lorde

Quilting the Black-Eyed Pea: Poems and Not Quite Poems - Nikki Giovanni

The Arab of the Future - Riad Sattouf

Ghosts in the Schoolyard: Racism and School Closings on Chicago’s South Side - Eve L. Ewing

Gruel - Bunkong Tuon

Marriage of a Thousand Lies - SJ Sindu

Parable of the Sower - Octavia Butler

Good Night, Willie Lee, I’ll See You in the Morning - Alice Walker

That Kind of Mother - Rumaan Alam

Erotic Stories for Punjabi Widows - Balli Kaur Jaswal

Hera Lindsay Bird - Hera Lindsay Bird

Queenie - Candice Carty-Williams

And Still I Rise - Maya Angelou

The Man Who Shot Out My Eye Is Dead - Chanelle Benz

Everyone Knows You Go Home - Natalia Sylvester

Naming Our Destiny: New and Selected Poems - June Jordan

The 100* Best African American Poems (*But I Cheated) - ed. Nikki Giovanni

The Haunting of Tram Car 015 - P. Djèlí Clark

Bury My Clothes - Roger Bonair-Agard

Selected Poems - Langston Hughes

Their Eyes Were Watching God - Zora Neale Hurston

Sonata Mulattica - Rita Dove

Winnie - Gwendolyn Brooks

Bicycles: Love Poems - Nikki Giovanni

The Black God’s Drums -  P. Djèlí Clark

Kid Gloves: Nine Months of Careful Chaos - Lucy Knisley

Annie Allen - Gwendolyn Brooks

Parable of the Talents  - Octavia Butler

After Disasters - Viet Dinh

Passing for Human: A Graphic Memoir - Liana Finck

Teeth - Aracelis Girmay

A Surprised Queenhood in the New Black Sun: The Life & Legacy of Gwendolyn Brooks - Angela Jackson

Peluda - Melissa Lozada-Oliva

A Map to the Next World - Joy Harjo

Magical Negro - Morgan Parker

Corpse Whale - dg nanouk okpik

Hawkeye: Volume 1 - Matt Fraction

Cenzontle - Marcelo Hernandez Castillo

Don’t Let Me Be Lonely: An American Lyric - Claudia Rankine

Selected Poems - Gwendolyn Brooks

She Had Some Horses - Joy Harjo

The BreakBeat Poets: New American Poetry in the Age of Hip-Hope - ed. Kevin Coval, Quraysh Ali Lansana, and Nate Marshall

Beyond Uhura: Star Trek and Other Memories - Nichelle Nichols

The Past and Other Things that Should Stay Buried - Shaun David Hutchinson

Difficult Women - Roxane Gay

The Woman Who Fell From the Sky - Joy Harjo

The Collected Schizophrenias: Essays - Esmé Weijun Wang

Go Ahead in the Rain: Notes to A Tribe Called Quest - Hanif Abdurraqib

The Frolic of the Beasts - Yukio Mishima

Hawkeye Omnibus - Matt Fraction

Good Talk: A Memoir in Conversations - Mira Jacob

Karamo: My Story of Embracing Purpose, Healing, and Hope - Karamo Brown

Tipping the Velvet - Sarah Waters

When My Brother Was an Aztec - Natalie Diaz

Toxic Flora: Poems - Kimiko Hahn

Virgin - Analicia Sotelo

Easy Prey - Catherine Lo

Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up With Me - Mariko Tamaki and Rosemary Valero-O’Connell

Saints and Misfits - S.K. Ali

Intercepted - Alexa Martin

Love from A to Z - S.K. Ali

Gemini - Sonya Mukherjee

The Atlas of Reds and Blues - Devi S. Laskar

My Brother’s Husband Vol. II - Gengoroh Tagame

Black Queer Hoe - Britteney Black Rose Kapri

Internment - Samira Ahmed

Dothead: Poems - Amit Majmudar

With the Fire On High - Elizabeth Acevedo

Sabrina & Corina: Stories - Kali Fajardo-Anstine

Milk and Filth - Carmen Giménez Smith

The Key to Happily Ever After - Tif Marcelo

If You’re Out There - Katy Loutzenhiser

Farewell to Manzanar - Jeanne Wakatsuki Houston

New Poets of Native Nations - ed. Heid E. Erdrich

Bodymap: Poems - Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha

Wolf by Wolf - Ryan Graudin

Tell Me How It Ends - Valeria Luiselli

Born a Crime: Stories from a South African Childhood - Trevor Noah

Down and Across - Arvin Ahmadi

The Tradition - Jericho Brown

About Betty’s Boob - Vero Cazot and Julie Rocheleau

Fake It Till You Break It - Jenn P. Nguyen

Storm of Locusts - Rebecca Roanhorse

Silver Sparrow - Tayari Jones

Pride, Prejudice, and Other Flavors - Sonali Dev

Mongrel: Essays, Diatribes, Pranks - Justin Chin

When I Grow Up I Want To Be a List of Further Possibilities - Chen Chen

The New Testament - Jericho Brown

Fumbled - Alexa Martin

If It Makes You Happy - Claire Kann

Brave Face - Shaun David Hutchinson

Words in Deep Blue - Cath Crowley

Lost Children Archive - Valeria Luiselli

Care Work: Dreaming Disability Justice - Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha

We Were Eight Years in Power: An American Tragedy - Ta-Nehisi Coates

Anger is a Gift - Mark Oshiro

The Bride Test - Helen Hoang

Not Your Backup - C.B. Lee

Prelude to Bruise - Saeed Jones

The Night Wanderer: A Graphic Novel - Drew Hayden Taylor and Michael Wyatt

Naturally Tan - Tan France

Bloom - Kevin Panetta and Savanna Ganucheau

Like a Love Story - Abdi Nazemian

I’m Afraid of Men - Vivek Shraya

Juliet Takes a Breath - Gabby Rivera

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous - Ocean Vuong

Let Me Hear a Rhyme - Tiffany D. Jackson

I Wanna Be Where You Are - Kristina Forest

Hurricane Season - Nicole Melleby

Split Tooth - Tanya Tagaq

Hungry Hearts: 13 Tales of Love and Food - ed. Elsie Chapman and Caroline Tung Richmond

The Night Tiger - Yangsze Choo

Long Live the Tribe of Fatherless Girls - T Kira Madden

Miracle Creek - Angie Kim

Ayesha at Last - Uzma Jalaluddin

Shout - Laurie Halse Anderson

The Breakbeat Poets Vol. 3: Halal if You Hear Me - ed. Fatimah Asghar and Safia Elhillo

The Tenth Muse - Catherine Chung

This Place: 150 Years Retold - various authors

Kings, Queens, and In-Betweens - Tanya Boteju

Midnight Chicken (& Other Recipes Worth Living For) - Ella Risbridger

Library of Small Catastrophes - Alison C. Rollins

Natalie Tan’s Book of Luck and Fortune - Roselle Lim

No Ashes in the Fire: Coming of Age Black and Free in America - Darnell L. Moore

The Book of Delights - Ross Gay

The 7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle - Stuart Turton

Speak No Evil - Uzodinma Iweala

How We Fight White Supremacy - Akiba Solomon and Kenrya Rankin

A Love Story Starring My Dead Best Friend - Emily Horner

Here and Now and Then - Mike Chen 

The Ghost Bride - Yangsze Choo

Red White and Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston

Becoming - Michelle Obama

The Wedding Party - Jasmine Guillory

Magic for Liars - Sarah Gailey

I’ll Be Gone in the Dark: One Woman’s Obsessive Search for the Golden State Killer - Michelle McNamara

Brain Fever - Kimiko Hahn

Life on Mars - Tracy K. Smith

Notebooks of a Chile Verde Smuggler - Juan Felipe Herrera

Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude - Ross Gay

Tentacle - Rita Indiana

Hapa Tales and Other Lies: A Memoir About the Mixed Race Hawai’i That I Never Knew - Sharon Chang

Loose Woman - Sandra Cisneros

Duende - Tracy K. Smith

Mostly Dead Things - Kristen Arnett

1919 - Eve L. Ewing

Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People About Race - Reni Eddo-Lodge

Negroland - Margo Jefferson

For Black Girls Like Me - Mariama J. Lockington

Super Extra Grande - Yoss

Home Remedies - Xuan Juliana Wang

You Can’t Touch My Hair: And Other Things I Still Have to Explain - Phoebe Robinson

An Anonymous Girl - Greer Hendricks and Sarah Pekkanen

The Abundance - Amit Majmudar

I Shall Not Be Moved - Maya Angelou

Helium - Rudy Francisco

Teaching My Mother to Give Birth - Warsan Shire

Tomie - Junji Ito

Everything’s Trash, But It’s Okay - Phoebe Robinson

This Time Will Be Different - Misa Sugiura

Junji Ito’s Cat Diary: Yon & Mu - Junji Ito

Stag’s Leap - Sharon Olds

Black Card - Chris L. Terry

It’s Not Like It’s A Secret - Misa Sugiura

Washington Black - Esi Edugyan

From Here To Eternity: Traveling the World to Find the Good Death - Caitlin Doughty

I’m Telling the Truth, But I’m Lying: Essays - Bassey Ikpi

A House of My Own: Stories from my Life - Sandra Cisneros

The Terrible - Yrsa Daley-Ward

The Black Tides of Heaven - JY Yang

The Red Threads of Fortune - JY Yang

Little Fish - Casey Plett

Trick Mirror: Reflections on Self-Delusion - Jia Tolentino

The Black Condition ft. Narcissus - Jayy Dodd

The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt

Dealing in Dreams - Lilliam Rivera

The Tiger Flu - Larissa Lai

The Island of Sea Women - Lisa See

America is Not the Heart - Elaine Castillo

Feel Free - Zadie Smith

Walking on the Ceiling - Aysegul Savas

My Time Among the Whites: Notes from an Unfinished Education - Jennine Capo Crucet

The Unpassing - Chia-Chia Lin

Maurice - E.M. Forster

Permanent Record - Mary H.K. Choi

The Downstairs Girl - Stacey Lee

Red Dust Road: An Autobiographical Journey - Jackie Kay

The Ungrateful Refugee: What Immigrants Never Tell You - Dina Nayeri

I Married My Best Friend to Shut My Parents Up - Naoko Kodama

Killers of the Flower Moon: The Osage Murders and the Birth of the FBI - David Grann

Ordinary Light - Tracy K. Smith

Cantoras - Carolina De Robertis

Brain on Fire: My Month of Madness - Susannah Cahalan

How to Be Remy Cameron - Julian Winters

The Marriage Clock - Zara Raheem

Moon: Letters, Maps, Poems - Jennifer S. Cheng

Where Reasons End - Yiyun Li

Pet - Akwaeke Emezi

Meddling Kids - Edgar Cantero

A Lucky Man - Jamel Brinkley

Maiden, Mother, Crone: Fantastical Trans Femmes - ed. Gwen Benaway

What is Obscenity? The Story of a Good for Nothing Artist and her Pussy - Rokudenashiko

The Umbrella Academy Vol. III: Hotel Oblivion - Gerard Way

Who Put This Song On? - Morgan Parker

The Souls of Yellow Folk: Essays - Wesley Yang

Wave - Sonali Deraniyagala

Love War Stories - Ivelisse Rodriguez

Baby Teeth - Zoje Stage

A Fortune for Your Disaster - Hanif Abdurraqib

Eyes Bottle Dark with a Mouthful of Flowers - Jake Skeets

Dear America: Notes of an Undocumented Citizen - Jose Antonio Vargas

The Marrow Thieves - Cherie Dimaline

Polite Society - Mahesh Rao

Patron Saints of Nothing - Randy Ribay

The Body Papers: A Memoir - Grace Talusan

A Woman is No Man - Etaf Rum

Travelers - Helon Habila

Trust Exercise - Susan Choi

The Silent Patient - Alex Michaelides

The Intuitionist - Colson Whitehead

A People’s History of Heaven - Mathangi Subramanian

The Buddha of Suburbia - Hanif Kureishi

This is Paradise: Stories - Kristiana Kahakauwila

Brood - Kimiko Hahn

Don’t Look Now - Daphne du Maurier

How We Fight for Our Lives - Saeed Jones

I Hope You Get This Message - Farah Naz Rishi

Unmarriageable - Soniah Kamal

Bad Endings - Carleigh Baker

The Water Dancer - Ta-Nehisi Coates

The Lady from the Black Lagoon: Hollywood Monsters and the Lost Legacy of Milicent Patrick - Mallory O’Meara

Shapes of Native Nonficton: Collected Essays by Contemporary Writers - ed. Elissa Washuta and Theresa Warburton

Harley Quinn: Breaking Glass - Mariko Tamaki

Even the Saints Audition - Rachel Jackson

Slay - Britney Morris

#NotYourPrincess: Voices of Native American Women - ed. Lisa Charleyboy and Mary Beth Leatherdale

The Starlet and the Spy - Ji-min Lee

North of Dawn - Nuruddin Farah

Daisy Jones & The Six - Taylor Jenkins Reid

The Drowning Boy’s Guide to Water - Cameron Barnett

They Called Us Enemy - George Takei

Dear Girls: Intimate Tales, Untold Secrets, and Advice for Living Your Best Life - Ali Wong

The Right Swipe - Alisha Rai

Full Disclosure - Camryn Garrett

Searching for Sylvie Lee - Jean Kwok

Gideon the Ninth - Tasmyn Muir

Stubborn Archivist - Yara Rodrigues Fowler

The Wicked + the Divine, Vol. 8: Old is the New New - Kieron Gillen and Jamie McKelvie

Never Grow Up - Jackie Chan

“All the Real Indians Died Off”: And 20 Other Myths About Native Americans - Roxanna Dunbar-Ortiz

In the Dream House - Carmen Maria Machado

Blame This on the Boogie - Rina Ayuyang

It - Stephen King

Sea Monsters - Chloe Aridjis

My Fate According to the Butterfly - Gail D. Villanueva

The Wicked + the Divine, Vol. 9: “Okay” - Kieron Gillen and Jamie McKelvie

The Deep - Rivers Solomon

I Hope We Choose Love: A Trans Girl’s Notes from the End of the World - Kai Cheng Thom

Mooncakes - Suzanne Walker

BTTM FDRS - Ezra Claytan Daniels and Ben Passmore

Hot Comb - Ebony Flowers

Notes from a Young Black Chef - Kwame Onwuachi

Bunny - Mona Awad

The Twisted Ones - T. Kingfisher

Shuri, Vol. 1: The Search for Black Panther - Nnedi Okorafor

I Was Their American Dream: A Graphic Memoir - Malaka Gharib

Thick: And Other Essays - Tressie McMillan Cottom

Royal Holiday - Jasmine Guillory

Boxers - Gene Luen Yang

Saints - Gene Luen Yang

Fox 8 - George Saunders

The Memory Police - Yoko Ogawa

Last Day - Domenica Ruta

Wakanda Forever - Nnedi Okorafor

The Revisioners - Margaret Wilkerson Sexton

The Future of Another Timeline - Annalee Newitz

We Have Always Been Here: A Queer Muslim Memoir - Samra Habib

Somewhere in the Middle: A Journey to the Phillipines in Search of Roots, Belonging, and Identity - Deborah Francisco Douglas

Crier’s War - Nina Varela

Something in Between - Melissa de la Cruz

The Secrets We Kept - Lara Prescott

The Tao of Raven: An Alaska Native Memoir - Ernestine Hayes

One of Us is Lying - Karen M. McManus

Piecing Me Together - Renee Watson

Binti - Nnedi Okorafor

The Nickel Boys - Colson Whitehead

Recursion - Blake Crouch

Supper Club - Lara Williams

#books #2019 #my lists #year in books

[katlyn1948]

An Unexpected Journey: Part 5

Arya meet with Ser Rednick at dawn. Even with the dim twilight, the harbor of King's Landing was alive with working people. It took a good while for Arya to actually get to Nymeria because of the gathering crowds. She had wanted to get to the ship before the workers started their day, but she had an unfinished conversion with her sister that she needed to address before she left.

It was early, so Arya wasn't sure if Sansa would even be awake, but none the less, she knocked on her chamber doors. She heard a few shuffles and a grunt of what sound like someone hitting their foot on the bed post. After several minutes, Sansa opened the door. She was in her nightgown and a robe covering her round belly.

"Arya? What in seven hells? You are aware that the sun hasn't even broken the horizon. What are you doing up?" Her sister said with a sleepy voice.

"I wanted to bid you a farewell. I'm leaving in just few short hours and I wanted to apologize for my behavior as last night's supper." Arya said.

Sansa eased a bit and small smile grew on her face. "You do not have to apologize. I should not have pushed you. You are a woman grown and you do not have to explain yourself. Just promise you'll be back."

Arya quickly embraced her sister, "Of course I will be back. I cannot miss the birth of this babe."

Sansa gave her sister a tight squeeze. She normally didn't cry, but with the babe in her belly, it made every little thing emotional. "Be safe." She said to her sister before she shut the door behind her.

Arya made haste after her goodbye to her sister. She wanted to get on the sea and be at Storm's End before the the morrow drew to a close. She was anxious and ready to take the voyage south.

Ser Rednick was waiting at the dock where Nymeria was stationed when Arya arrived. He had the sails hoisted and the crew ready for sailing. Arya was truly greatful for the old navigator. He took the reigns when she could not. He had taught her the proper way to sail and run a ship. Without him she would have been truly lost.

"Ser Rednick, how was your stay?" she asked as she boarded the ship.

"Quite well, Lady Stark. I was able to send a raven to my son and let him know of my journey to Storm's End."

"So he is aware of our impending arrival?" Her eyes were quizzical.

He nodded, "Aye, he'll be joinin' us as we dock. He said the weathers ought to be good for an easy sailing." Ser Rednick looked up to the skys. "And I will have to agree with him."

Arya's eyes followed. The skys were clear with not a cloud in sight. The winds were steady and sails were eager.

"Well then, Ser Rednick, let us not waste anymore time. Lift the anchor and set sail for Storm's End."

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

It took two days for them to reach the port of Storm’s End. Two days on her ship did nothing to ease the nerves that she had been feeling ever since she docked at King’s Landing.

She hadn’t seen him in five years. Had not sent a raven to ask about his well-being nor even asked her siblings when she did write. She had absolutely no idea what he had been up to or if he was still the same man she left all those years ago.

Ser Rednick hardly talked about Storm’s End unless it was about his son and she had purposefully avoided talk about the damned place if it was ever brought in conversation.

But standing on the dock with the light drizzle that had ascended upon them she couldn’t be more ecstatic. Her nerves were high, but her excitement was higher and she could scarcely believe that she was finally here.

She has never been to Storm’s End, but she could remember her father’s stories of the seas side castle and how it over looked ocean. The impregnable keep and it’s ability to weather any storm. It truly was a glorious castle. She even dared to think that it was more beautiful than Winterfell.

Ser Rednick had mentioned of it’s magnificent beauty, but one could not truly understand until they looked upon it with their own eyes.

It was slightly shocking to Arya that she never took the time to visit this place. Perhaps if she did, she may have never left Westeros.

The harbor of Storm’s End was just as busy as the one in King’s Landing. The fisherman were reeling in their morning catch and vendors were out and about selling their oysters, clams, and cockles. It was like any other bustling town thriving with common folk and Arya couldn’t help but smile.

When she left Westeros, Storm’s End had been on the brink of mutiny. The locals and bannermen alike were starving and unorganized and she heard that if it wasn’t for the new Lord and his trusted advisor, there would be no more Storm’s End. Perhaps, she thought, he isn’t a stupid bull after all.

Arya’s thoughts were quickly disrupted by sounds of joyous laughter. To her left she could see Ser Rednick and young man that could pass as Ser Rednick’s former self, embrace in a bearly hug. No doubt it was his son that he could not stop talking about.

“Lady Arya,” Ser Rednick motioned her to come. “This is my son, Archibald Rednick III.”

Arya lifted her brow to the navigator. “The third? Your name is Archibald? I thought you said it was Roger.”

“Aye it is. My second name is Roger. I hate Archibald.”

Arya glanced at the young man the back at Ser Rednick. “Then why did you name him that?”

“I have asked him that same question everyday of my life since I could talk.” The young man spoke. He quickly bowed to Arya.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Arya. I’ve heard all I can about you from the few letters my father has sent.”

Arya retuned the bow, “Likewise, Lord Archibald. And please do just call me Arya.”

The young man smiled, “Of course, Arya. But I must also ask you to please call me Archie. I may be a Lord, but the title is new and I do hate all the formalities. However, I cannot say the same for my wife.”

“Ah yes! How is that daughter-in-law of mine doing?” Ser Rednick asked his son.

Archie grabbed a hold of his fathers shoulder and lead him towards the seaside town. Arya was in step with them both as they made their way through the people.

“She is always well, father. She taking quite nicely to being a Lady, although she does not wish to do typical lady things.”

This tickled Arya’s ear. “What do you mean, Archie?”

“Well...she cannot sew to save her life. She hates the way some of the other ladies speak about common folk and she’d much rather spend her times in the stables than to gossip around in a circle. Although, now a days, she is tending to our young children.” Archie spoke freely.

“The stables?” Asked Arya. She was becoming more curious about this Lady Rednick.

“Aye. Her father was the former stable master before he passed. Her brother took up the job, but she does most of the work. Teaches our daughter how to properly care for the horses. Our son is only 4 moons, so all he is interested in is his next meal.” Archie says with a chuckle.

“And you do not mind her working in the stables? With her being a Lady?”

Archie shook his head, “No, not at all. But I wouldn’t be able to stop her if I tried. She gut me like a fish, that one. Her uncle is the swords master and taught her how to properly defend herself if necessary.”

Arya shook her head. She would have to meet this Lady Rednick, for she believed they could be fast friends.

They talked more on their walk through the town. Archie has mentioned that the bannermen of Storm’s End had taken a liking to their new Lord and that he truly cared for his people. Ser Rednick would tell his son about the adventures of the sea and how they encountered more than just islands.

Arya enjoyed seeing the father and son talk. They were close, she could tell and she enjoyed seeing the familiarity between the two. They may been apart for five years, but they conversed as if they had seen each other the day before. It was a familiarity that Arya could not wait to experience. She can only hope that is how it would be once she sees Gendry again. Old friends, picking up where they left off.

They had finally reached the gates of Storm’s End after walking for what seemed like ages. It hadn’t been a difficult trek, but for someone who had been on a boat for the last five years, climbing the hills and rocky terrain had winded Arya. She as glad when they finally saw the guards because that meant they had reached the top.

“Halt! State your business.” One guard said.

“Aye! It is I, Lord Rednick, Of House Rednick. Newly appointed bannerman of House Baratheon.” Archie spoke clearly. “I am here with guests of House Baratheon that have arrived from a long journey.”

The guard nodded to his fellow guardsman and they let the trio pass.

Inside the grounds of Storm’s End was just as busy as the harbor. People were running around doing their daily tasks. The kennel master was training new pups, the swords master was teaching new guards the art of sword play, and the ringing of metal against metal echoed from the forge. It was an all to familiar sound for Arya and she was anxious to see if he’d be in the smithy. Her feet seemed to have a mind of their own as they were guiding her into the direction of the smithy. But is he in there? Would the Lord of Storm’s End be along side his fellow smiths? She thought. But it would not matter, for a familiar voice broke her thoughts.

“Is that Arya Stark of Winterfell?”

Arya turned to the voice and immediately recognized the old smuggler.

“Aye it is, Ser Davos.” She smiled as she approached him.

She welcomed his embrace, taking in another memory of home.

Her and Ser Davos had not been close, but she would be eternally grateful for the old man, for without him she believed her brother would be dead.

Ser Davos released her from the embrace and she was able to truly see his aging face. Being an advisor to a lord had taken its toll on the smuggler, but he seemed to remain his eager old self.

“How have ye been, my dear?” He asked her.

“Well. I’ve just returned from my travels west and was hoping to see an old friend. Where is our Lord Gendry?” She asked with sudden realization that this was the first time she said his name aloud since she’s gotten back to Westeros.

“He’s out collecting monthly rents. He should be back before supper.” The old smuggler answered. “In the mean time, I’ll have rooms drawn for you lot.”

“No need for us, Ser Davos. My father will be staying with me. As you know, my keep is just a few minutes ride outside of Storm’s End. We will be leaving right after supper.” Archie said.

Ser Davos nodded. “Very well. Please Lady Arya, if you follow me, I can show you to your temporary chambers. Where are your belongings?”

”They are back on my ship at the harbor. I can send for them on the morrow.” Arya hesitated. “And Ser Davos, if it is alright with you, I’d like to explore the castle grounds. Make myself aquatinted.”

”I don’t see why not. I’ll have on of the maids fetch you once supper is ready.” With that Ser Davos turned and headed off to the armory.

Arya smiled and turned to the father/son duo.

“I had no idea you knew the Lord.” Ser Rednick said.

“Yes, he’s an old friend.” She let the old man know.

“Old friend, you say? Is that why you so eagerly agreed to come with me?” He questioned with knowing eyes.

“Mayhaps.” A small smile had creeped onto Arya’s face.

Archie hadn’t acknowledged the interaction between his father and Arya, for he had an eagerness of his own.

“Come father, let us go meet your grandchildren.” And with that, Archie dragged his father in the opposite direction.

Arya was left standing there in the middle of the castle grounds. She didn’t know which direction to go in first. On one side there was the armory, along with the training grounds and stable. The other side looked like it had housed the smithy and the kennels, while straight a head were the kitchens. Everything seemed surreal to Arya. She was actually here and couldn’t quite believe it.

When she was a little girl and her father told her the stories about Storm’s End she always thought that she would hate it but standing here in the middle of the grounds surrounded by hard working, dedicated people that were loyal to their Lord, she came to realize that maybe it wasn’t such a bad place after all, even if it was wet all the time.

Arya decided to take a left and head towards the training groups. It had been a while since she has sparred with anyone of decent skills. Perhaps she could find someone in the stormlands that could take her on. As she made her way to the training grounds a young girl of maybe three namedays ran into her.

The little girl had land on the ground with a thud and tears began to well in her eyes. Arya knelt beside her to make sure she was alright.

“I’m sorry little one, I’ve must have not seen you. Are you alright?” Arya asked. It felt strange to her, to be kind. She hasn’t had much interaction with children, so she wasn’t sure if she was being kind enough. Although this would be good practice she thought.

The little girl hesitated when she looked up at Arya, but nodded.

Arya smiled at her and helped the little girl on her feet. “Well that’s good. What’s your name? Maybe we can find your mother?”

The little girl sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “I no have a mother.”

Arya’s heart squeezed with sadness. She, of all people, knew what it felt like not to have a mother.

“Do you have a father?” Arya asked.

The little girl’s eyes lit up in excitement. Her mop brown curls bobbed up and down.

“Really? Where is he then?” She asked. Arya was trying to maintain her patience with the young lass, but trying to get answers out of a child her age was next to impossible.

The child looked around the courtyard frantically, but couldn’t quite place her stare. Perhaps she is to small to see, thought Arya. With one quick movement she lifted the girl into her arms. She had nestled perfectly onto Arya’s hip and held on to her for dear life. Arya began walking around the courtyard for the little girl to see. For several minutes the girl was silent, that is until they made their way to the castle entrance.

“There is papa.” The girl said as she pointed towards the castle gates.

Arya turned and her breath had caught in her throat. Coming into the castle on a brown horse was a man with the most beautiful ocean eyes that she had ever seen. Ocean eyes that she never thought she would see again.

But that is impossible. The little girl she had in her arms looked nothing like him. Her hair was a muddied brown and her eyes were an undeniable hazel.

“What is your name?” She asked the little girl in her arms.

She looked up at Arya and smiled, “I am Lyra Baratheon. My papa calls me the little Lady of Storm’s End.”

Arya’s mind begins to get fuzzy. She was trying to put pieces of an impossible puzzle together. Had she really expected him to wait all this time for her? And what about the child’s mother? Why did she not look like him? How could she have been so stupid? Of corse he would move on. She gave him reasons to. But that didn’t mean that it still didn’t hurt.

Arya looked up one more time, this time those ocean blue eyes were staring right at her.

Only one thing could come to his mind, “Arya?”

#gendrya #arya stark #gendry waters #jonerys #got #gotspoilers #jon snow #daenerys targaryen #d&d #arya x gendry

[imagineclaireandjamie]

I know you just gave us an adopted daughters update but while 4x07 isn't going to be one of my favs I did love seeing Bree and Joannie bonding and I kinda thought it would be nice to see something similar in the adopted daughters story?

When Fergus and Marsali elope, they bring Joanie with them because Laoghaire has been arrested for shooting Jamie. Now she’s Jamie and Claire’s responsibility.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

Adopted Daughters - Part Six

Marsali rested in the back of the wagon with the baby, nestled among pillows and quilts between the carefully restrained crates. Joanie sat with Brianna at the front, helping her guide the horses as much as was necessary with Fergus and Jamie leading the way.

“What’s it like in Boston?” Joanie asked keeping her voice low so she wouldn’t disturb Marsali who was so thoroughly exhausted from tending Germain through the night she managed to sleep even as they wound their way over the uneven path through the woods.

“It’s bigger than Wilmington,” Brianna explained, reminding herself not to give too much away. “It’s more crowded too so it’s dirtier. Gets colder in the wintertime I think—I haven’t spent enough time in the mountains this far south and Boston’s near the ocean so that keeps it from getting too bad.”

“Was it a long journey then? Did ye come by ship or over land?”

“It was a very long journey,” Brianna chuckled. “I didn’t know my parents were in the colonies so I went looking for them in Scotland first. Can’t say I regret it though or I’d never have met Auntie Jenny and Uncle Ian.”

“I miss them,” Joanie lamented. “I ken I should be angry wi’ Auntie Jenny for what she did to Mam, but Uncle Ian was always sae kind to me. Were ye there over Hogmanay? They have the best dancin’ and feastin’ at Lallybroch for Hogmanay. It’s where Mam met Da. Marsali and I saw him standin’ alone and asked him to dance wi’ us. He and Mam were wed by the time spring planting started.” The smile that bloomed on Joanie’s face at the memory of that fateful celebration wilted suddenly. “He’d gone for Edinburgh by the end o’ that summer and didna come to stay at Balriggan when he visited at Hogmanay next. And we didna go to the Hogmanay festivities at Lallybroch—Mam didna want to see him wi’ other folks about. We visited after, before he went back to Edinburgh.”

“I’m sure his going had nothing to do with you and your sister,” Brianna said quietly. She remembered all too well the nights she lay in bed, her parents believing her asleep keeping their voices low as they fought downstairs but both smiling at her over breakfast the next morning as if it hadn’t happened.

“I ken that now,” Joanie admitted. “When he came wi’ Mother Claire… seein’ him wi’ her…”

“They’re happy together?” Brianna asked, eagerly. She remembered the change in her mother after they’d learned Jamie had survived Culloden. It was like a candle had been lit inside her, a vibrancy and life illuminating her from within.

“Aye. Happier than Da and my mam ever were. I kent I’d miss Da when they went to settle the Ridge… but I wasna expecting to miss Mother Claire so much. I wish she could have been wi’ us when Marsali’s time came. The midwife wasna so gentle about it as Mother Claire would ha’ been—even Fergus said so.”

“And do you like having a nephew?” Brianna tried not to laugh at the expression that flitted across Joanie’s face.

“He’s a sweet bairn when he’s in the mood to be. What about you? Ye dinna have bairns of yer own, do ye? Nor a husband neither?”

Brianna flushed. “Well… I’m not sure exactly, but I do have a young man I plan to marry. He said he’d come to find me at Fraser’s Ridge. He sailed from Scotland under a contract with the captain of the ship so he needs to finish that before he’s free to come along.”

“He didna sail with you then?”

“No. He heard I’d gone and came after me because he didn’t want me to be alone.” Brianna glanced up to the figure of Jamie riding ahead with Fergus. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him—didn’t know how to broach the subject when she was still figuring out how to be around him and how she felt towards him. It would be easier to tell her mother—oh, how she longed for her mother.

“Will ye stay wi’ him at the Ridge when he comes? Fergus said Da has a great deal of land for them as’ll take it and work it proper. If ye ask him, I’m sure he’ll give ye and yer man a bit to build yer home for when ye’re wed. Or will ye go back wi’ him to Boston?”

Brianna laughed with awkward uncertainty. “I don’t know. We… we haven’t talked about it yet.”

They hadn’t talked much about anything that night he’d found her in Wilmington and they were handfast. Not until that stupid fight. She still didn’t want to believe he had known about the obituary and had kept it from her. There hadn’t been many words to the apology he made but she had seen in his eyes the regret and sorrow, the fear her passing through the stones had shot through him. She’d gratefully returned to the warmth of his arms and had enjoyed the gentle pleasures of makeup sex, sleeping comfortably afterwards until the stablehand’s arrival had woken them and they hurriedly dressed and snuck away.

That was when they’d encountered Roger’s captain and the crew. She shivered at the memory of the captain’s gaze roaming over her and wished she had Roger there to ground her as she did then. She went with Roger to the docks as the Glorianna readied to depart and it had been there with him helping her inquire about the journey to Fraser’s Ridge that they’d heard about the family getting ready to leave that day. Their farewells had been brief with Roger promising to meet her as soon as he was able and then they were off in opposite directions. Had it really been less than a week since their handfasting?

“Well, I hope you and yer man decide to stay,” Joanie said with conviction.

“And why is that? You hardly know me,” Brianna pointed out.

“Tha’s part of why—to know ye better. If ye’re Da’s daughter then it make ye my sister, does it no? We’ve a deal of time to make up for.”

The girl’s sincerity was touching and made Brianna laugh.

So little of her journey through the stones to find her parents had turned out as she’d expected but perhaps what had surprised her most was how happy and welcoming everyone had been. It was… like coming home… like she’d been away and only realized upon returning how satisfying it was to be at home. What would it be like having her mother with her again? And when Roger joined her? It was impossible to brace herself or try to lower her expectations now. Brianna could only give herself over to the joy and possibilities rising within her.

She reached over and slipped an arm around Joanie’s shoulders, pulling the girl closer.

“I’d say we’ve made a decent start of it, wouldn’t you?”

Joanie smiled back at her and nodded.

#Anonymous #;mod lenny #adopted daughters au #in case it's not clear from the story itself Bree doesn't get raped in this AU #featuring: joanie #featuring: bree #canon divergence

[a7xlizardqueen]

Title: Your Knight in a Sweater Vest

Overall Rating: NC-17

Overall Warnings: Parental bullying, mentions of bulimia, nudity(?), drinking, partying, cursing, very slight mention of war and trauma, smut

Pairing: Reader x Steve Rogers

Summary: When you need help dealing with your rude and overbearing family, your best friend Steve Rogers comes to the rescue. Modern!AU - For @barnesrogersvstheworld Writing Challenge Shot Through the Heart #shotthroughtheheart3k

Chapter: 7/10

Word Count: 1,567 words

Chapter Warnings: More parental bullying, swearing

-X-X-X-

A piercing ringing noise invades your consciousness. You try to open your eyes but your mascara must have melted just enough overnight to glue your eyes together. Your throat feels like sandpaper and your tongue is in desperate need of water. Your head isn't even pounding, there's just a constant pain wrapping around and squeezing your brain. You can feel your pulse behind your eyes. You groan, slowly bringing your hand up and wiping at your eyes. You manage to get them open enough to tell that the sun is up, way too bright for your current condition.

"Fuck," you mutter, wondering whether you'd be able to raise yourself up without dying.

A low groan is muffled behind you. Your heart jumps in your chest and in a sudden moment of clarity, your eyes open wide and you flip over.

"Steve!"

You lift your hands to your mouth, in disbelief that your best friend ended up in your bed after a night of dancing and drinking, upper body naked. You gasp and run your hands through your hair when you remember hot, wet lips on yours and stumbling through the dark of your apartment.

"Shit," you whisper.

"We drank way too much last night," Steve grumbles, his face emerging from underneath the blankets.

You quickly peek underneath the covers and sigh in relief at the sight of clothes. You furrow your brows in confusion though when you see you’re wearing Steve's shirt. You hear a sudden cry of alarm from Steve. He sits up suddenly, eyes wide.

"Oh, my God, Y/N. I am so sorry. Please forgive me. I totally took advantage of you last night."

"Did we -?"

Steve searches through his memory. Your own can barely get past the elevator. Steve's mouth gapes open like a fish, he's shaking his head and shrugging.

"I don't know," he whispers. "I remember following you up, the elevator, through the door."

"My throat hurts," you groan, rubbing your neck.

Steve's face turns red. In desperate need of water you slowly get up and go into the bathroom. A sweet, putrid scent immediately catches your attention. There's a streak on the outside of the toilet. You grab your usual water glass, fill it, and go back to bed, relieved.

"We definitely did not have sex last night."

"Oh, thank God!" He sighs, throwing himself back down.

You feel a slight sting of rejection. Of course Steve wouldn't want to sleep with you. Who are you compared to him? You down the glass of water and clear your throat.

"Well, should we go get a good, greasy breakfast before we make an appearance at this fucking engagement party?"

Steve groans, "Ugh, I forgot about that. Guess we'll have to stop in at my place so I can change. What's the dress code?"

"You know my mother, she wants everyone to be dressed nicely. Definitely no jeans."

"What the fuck are you gonna wear then?"

"My mother sent me a dress."

"You gonna wear it?" Steve smirks and you reply with an evil smirk of your own.

-X-X-X-

To say your mother was unhappy with you two was an understatement. You showered, but that was all you'd done. In a show of defiance you showed up at the engagement party dressed in the same clothes that you'd gone to the club in, with new underwear of course. Actually, in Steve's case sans underwear since you do not keep a spare pair of boxers in your wardrobe for the odd chance that they'd be needed by your fake boyfriend.

You'd gone out for a massive, greasy breakfast, multiple Bloody Marys included of course and were on your way to a good buzz by the time you arrived thirty minutes late to the festivities.

You and Steve stumble in to the party, giggling over something ridiculous, to find Sam there with Ines, whom you hadn't even been aware was invited.

"I told you last night, but I'm not surprised you don't remember."

"How was your night, Y/N?" Sam asks suggestively, throwing his arm around you and bumping his hip against yours.

You roll your eyes and smirk, "We didn't have sex, if that's what you're implying."

"You sure, you two looked pretty damn cozy."

"I'm 100% sure, Samuel. Now, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Ines invited me. And you know I never say no to a beautiful woman."

The day turned out really well. Your mother was furious, but there were too many people around for her to make a scene. Justin and Jae's friends all welcomed the relaxed mood you brought. You drank, you ate, you danced, and you had a lot of fun, which is not something you ever thought you would say about one of your mother's parties. You think it's safe to say you stole the show. Percy and your sister stood on either side of your mother on the edges of the festivities, matching scowls on their faces.

Most of all, Steve was great. He was such a charmer he even got some of the typical bores on the dance floor. Steve, Sam, and you and Ines stayed until the end of the night, saying your farewells as everyone left. You had even begun to help with clean up when your mother's bubble burst. Her face looked like a burst tomato.

"I bet you're really happy with yourself, now, aren't you?" She spits out, jealousy and hatred dripping with each syllable. "You walk in here, looking like a tramp, making me look like a fool!"

Your throat closes up. You've always had a hard time standing up to her.

"You've always thought you were better than us."

"That's enough," Steve steps forward. He's using his army voice, the one that commands and demands respect. He stands tall and in comparison your mother appears frail and weak and you almost feel sorry for her. "You've been allowed to degrade and put down Y/N for far too long. Your party was a success, even though neither the bride nor the groom wanted it. We didn't have to come here today, in fact neither of us particularly wanted to. We came out of love and respect for your son and future daughter-in-law. We will have to see you again at the wedding, and if you so much as look at Y/N I will have something to say about it. You've made it perfectly clear that you don't love, accept, or support her. And you damn well don't respect us. So after this wedding is over, you can be certain you'll never see her again."

Steve turns and extends his hand to you. You blink back the tears that had formed and smile lightly, taking his hand. He nods his head at Sam, the command to follow. He and Ines follow you to the door but before you leave Steve turns back slightly.

"Have a good night, ma'am."

-X-X-X-

You shared a cab with Sam and Ines, sitting in awkward silence for the duration of it. Sam and Ines were dropped off first, then Steve made the cab drop you off before him, even though he lives closer to Sam. He insisted on walking you to the front door of the building, as well. You could feel his eyes on the back of your neck the entire time. You played with your keys when you got to the door, hesitating to unlock the door. Steve puts his hand on yours to stop the keys from jingling.

"I hope I didn't overstep."

You scoff and smile, "No, Steve that was perfect. You were perfect, like a knight in shining armor."

"Now all I need is a white horse," he smirks.

You stand there smiling and staring at each other for what feels like a second but was probably more like a few minutes. You heart pounds in your chest and you realize that you really want Steve to kiss you. You want him to come upstairs with you so that you can do what you’d intended on last night, before you'd gotten sick. But even more than that, you want him to be there when you wake up. You want to cuddle on the couch and watch TV. You think you actually want Steve Rogers to be you boyfriend.

Steve finally jostles himself and takes a deep breath, "Can I -"

"Hi Miss Brown!"

Peter and Ned are walking up the path, smiling and waving, completely oblivious to the turmoil going on inside your head. You and Steve jump, gasping in surprise. You clear your throat and try to force a smile.

"Hi Peter. Hi Ned. How are you?"

"Oh, really good, Miss Brown! I'm having a great time interning for Mr. Stark."

Steve rolls his eyes and you can't help but smile. He's never been a big fan of the man.

"That's great, Peter. I bet you're working on some really cool stuff."

"Oh, yeah!" His voice gets low, "I'm not really supposed to say anything, but we're working on some new prosthetic body parts, stuff that's like synced up with the brain so that it moves almost like a regular arm. It's amazing. It's just hard to find people who are willing to try it out, we haven't got any volunteers yet."

You and Steve both share a look before he smiles, "I think we just might know someone."

#shotthroughtheheart3k #steve rogers #fanfiction #modern!au