#it's mostly the anticipatory nervousness

[aplaceforyourhearttorest]

Follow My Lead ⭒ Cliff Burton

You wince as the front door is loudly slammed to a close behind you, eyes wide as you glance over at James and Lars sprawled out on a rickety couch only a few feet away, almost already fully inebriated and looking high out of their minds. They loudly greet you with slowly raising arms and maniac waving hands, and you send them a panicked grin before gesturing at them to lower their voices. The guitar case in your arms and pressed against your upper half weighs you down as you try to shuffle as carefully as you can through the ever-growing crowd, purposefully keeping your head down to hide your face from your boyfriend, his melodic laughter audible and near enough to make you attempt to move at an even faster pace.

You let out a sigh of relief once you get halfway through the packed living and dining room and see the familiar hallway in your line of sight, only to jolt in fright as a hand encircles itself around your arm from behind and gently turns you around.

"Thought it was you! Walking around like Samara from The Ring," Kirk greets and teases, his grin turning into a wide smile as he registers what you're trying to hide. "Holy shit, is that what I think it is?" You smile despite your worry of being seen, your best friend's energy contagious and enough to help you partially calm down. You nod and let out a laugh as he shakes his head in disbelief, immediately following behind you as you continue your way to Cliff's bedroom.

Kirk discards his half empty beer bottle on the nearest flat surface and uses his newly freed hand to grasp onto and lift the upper half of the case, nodding off the grateful look you send his way. "Think he'll lose his shit once he sees it?" You ask, hiding your nervousness behind a halfhearted, mirthful upturn of lips. Kirk lets out a scoff and helps you place the present on the carpeted floor safely in front of your boyfriend's door, stepping aside as you lean forward to test the handle. You temporarily close your eyes in relief as it slides open, the musky and heady scent of his strains and cologne greeting you and welcoming you in warmly as you take a step inside.

"Think if he doesn't cry or pass out on the spot, I'll take it as a gift instead," you let out a bout of laughter as you flick the nearest light switch upward and glance down the hallway once more, before bending down to carefully maneuver the guitar case into a standing position. "He brings this specific guitar up every time we go shopping for new equipment, he's going to spaz. No doubt. Where'd you even find this? It's damn near a one of a kind."

You smile to yourself and lightly graze a fingertip over the newly engraved name in the case, sending your best friend a cheeky look once he crouches down beside you to get a better look. "Called in during a radio questionnaire, won, and got a good percentage off from the state store for the personal engraving," you admit, steadying yourself as Kirk curses out loud and tries to call you out for bullshit. "I'm being serious! Maybe you should listen to the radio more often."

"And be stuck listening to bullshit repeats, and commercials about hemorrhoid cream? I'm good," you bite back a laugh at his absurdity and jab your elbow against his, letting out a huff as he shoves you back with just as much force and nearly sends you off kilter. "Let's get this inside before his birthday party is over, and he's too smacked off his tits to realize how much of a big deal this is."

You nod along to his words and take a deep breath, smiling to yourself as you two pick up and place the present on Cliff's unruly and unmade bed. Kirk sends you a half tipsy thumbs up and tosses an arm over your shoulders once you two make it back outside and into the hallway.

"Don't worry about it, he'll love it. And if he doesn't, you can give it to me. I accept second-hand things."

"Kirk!" "I'm kidding! Mostly."

⭒

All of the nervousness and anticipatory anxiety thrumming through you, vanishes as soon as Cliff's laughter and joyous cadence is back in earshot. Kirk squeezes your arm and wishes you good luck, before sliding over to a rowdy and drunken group and tunneling down the contents handed to him in a solo cup. Arms encircle themselves around you as you watch him finish it in one go, the familiar scent of natural musk and smoke invading your senses and engulfing itself around you like a flame, as you cheer him on.

Brown, curly hair tickles the side of your neck as Cliff places a delicate kiss to your shoulder blade and guides you around to fully face him. Green and blown wide eyes beam down at you with a smile to match, and you can't help but wrap your arms around him and bring him even closer. Denim blue bell bottom jeans brush against your bare ankles as you rest your chin upon his chest and look up at him with love-filled eyes.

"There's my girl," he announces, the loud tone in his voice now gone and replaced with something much softer, private. Callous laden fingers and knuckles glide their way across and down your hips and back, and you have to force your eyes to stay open as your boyfriend speaks up again. "Where'd you go? You got all of this prepared for me, and you almost missed out on us cutting the cake."

You hum dismissively, temporarily removing yourself to look down and hold back a delighted and luminescent smile and laugh. "Brought something from outside in for you, is all. No big deal." Cliff purses his lips and nods resolutely, before shaking his head and lifting you off of your feet and the floor beneath you.

"Sounds like bullshit to me. You've always been such a terrible liar," he laughs brightly as you scramble to grab ahold of his jacket and let out a sound of shock. "You aren't as subliminal as I think you wish to be and think you are, baby," a loud smack of an amused kiss is pressed to your pouting lips once you're raised high enough to be near the same height as him, your own pair immediately latching onto his and bringing him into a legitimate kiss before he can pull away. Cliff exhales blissfully after you two disconnect, his once large eyes now hooded and his arms securely pressing the entirety of you to his front. "Want to tell me what you were carrying in, or should I start guessing?" Your heart flutters at the content and at peace tone in his voice.

You border your arms around his neck and let out a faux sigh of defeat. "Follow me to the bedroom and I'll show you." A red hue makes its way to your cheeks as you take in your own words, sending Cliff a playful look of warning as his expression perks up with newfound interest. Your boyfriend reaches down to lightly pat you on your ass, before muttering out, "You will never have to repeat that sentence to me twice, ever."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." You retort back, unserious, your feet making contact with his shins as he walks you two through the crowd, before you raise your legs to encase them around his waist. Large and calloused palms rest on the precipice of the back of your upper thighs, and you squeal as a pinch is placed right underneath your backside. Cliff presses his smile against the top of your head and pulls you in even closer.

"Right."

⭒

"Close your eyes!" You insist once you two make it back to his bedroom door, reaching up to try and place a hand in his line of sight much more of a struggle for you at your natural height. Cliff grins widely down at you and interlaces his fingers with yours instead, backing you up against the door and brushing your hair away from your eyes with his free hand.

"I don't see what the big deal is, you've already thrown me a party. But whatever it is, I'll love it, because it's coming from you." You rest the back of your head on the wooden door behind you as a kiss is placed on your forehead, to try and placate you.

"It's the guitar we saw and found on our first date," you start, watching with satisfaction as he pauses his ministrations and realization dawns on him. Baby hairs fall back into their previous placement and tickle at your temples, as your boyfriend takes a step back to look at you in shock. "The white one, electric. The one you said felt perfect in your hands? The one that was auctioned off and sold a week later, the one you said you'll always save up and try to find, because it meant something to you. Meant something to the both of us."

"The one I said I'd play a song for you on if I could ever afford it," Cliff whispers, his eyes glassy as he looks down at you in amazement, his hands unfreezing at his sides to come up and cup your chin. You grin in his grip and hold onto his wrists as he shakes his head. "There's no way you found it, at least the exact same one. Babe, that was years ago, and the buyer said he lived out of state."

You place a hand on his chest to gently maneuver him backwards a few steps, before twisting your arm behind your back to push his bedroom door open. Stepping aside, you nod your head to the left and gently tug him forward. "Take a look for yourself." Cliff's eyes widen as a familiar and long, slightly battered guitar case comes into view, it's russet brown and black finish starkly standing out against and on top of his lightly colored linen. His footsteps are heavy and nearly dragged as he makes his way over to the bed, his eyes enlarged with wonder and awe.

Cliff turns to look at you in disbelief, before leaning forward to peer at the engraving now permanently etched in the case. 'Clifford Lee Burton, for you and for us' Tears sting his eyes as he rereads it fervently, none of this night feeling real to him. "How the hell were you able to pull this off?"

You shrug and walk over to him, resting your head on his shoulder as he carefully opens up the case. You both gape as if it was the first time seeing it, the strings looking brand new and refurbished and its white paint and coating looking as it if had never once been touched. "I won a questionnaire on the radio, and here we are."

"The hemorrhoid one?" Cliff asks you, laughter bubbling up in his tone and pouring out as you look at him exasperatedly. "Yes, babe. The hemorrhoid one." You can't help but laugh with him as well, your body feeling light and you feeling at home and at ease with your partner.

You glance up as he readjusts the electric guitar back into its casing and turns to look at you, his expression unreadable. "So, you called into a radio station and took time out of your day, because the guitar they were speaking about sounded familiar and like the one we saw on our first date, over two years ago?" at your nod of confirmation, he continues, his tone turning incredulous. "And you went out of you way to go and get it, got its case engraved, and then surprised me with a birthday party?"

You look at him in confusion, before nodding again. "Yeah, I did. What's the big deal? We always surprise each other on our birthday's." Cliff shakes his head and looks away momentarily, before crossing over to the other side of his room and grabbing ahold of a guitar strap. You watch as he carefully picks up the new piece of equipment and attaches the strap to the back of it, your confusion turning into endearment as he tunes the guitar like it's second nature.

"I don't know how good acoustic is going to sound on an electric guitar, but we can figure it out," Cliff voices out distractedly, somehow still being able to reach out and guide you towards his bed to sit comfortably as he gets everything set up and together. "Our song might sound like shit, but the sentiment is still there."

Your eyes begin to tear up once the first string is strung, moving over to make space as your boyfriend sits down next to you and gently raises your hand to place it on top of his. "Just follow my lead." He instructs, not knowing his words would kickstart you back to an even older memory, before your very own first date.

"I need you to hold onto my hand and kick forward." Cliff says to you in a gentle tone, looking over his shoulder to send a glare to the rest of your guys' mutual friends as someone lets out a laugh.

You stare up at him with wide eyes, a stray tear making its way down your cheek as your legs unsteadily shake underneath you and on top of the skateboard. "I don't think I can do this, maybe this was a bad idea."

Your best friend shakes his head at you adamantly, before reaching forward to place his hands on top of yours and squeezes them reassuringly, his steady grip enough to stabilize you and give you enough courage to keep pushing forward and to try again. "Just follow my lead," he promises. "I won't let you fall."

You nod and squeeze your eyes shut, your heart incessantly pounding erratically in your chest as you feel the wheels begin to move forward again. Warm and larger palms keep you steady and safe the entire time, and once you open your eyes again, your friends are no longer laughing, and you officially made it to the end of the landing.

"You did it!" Your best friend exclaims, putting his foot in between yours so it would be safe enough for you to step off and jump onto the even and unmoving concrete. You shake your head and keep one of his hands on top of yours as you two make your way back over. "No, we did it." Cliff smiles down at you as you hold your head up triumphantly and hold onto his hand even prouder. "Yeah," he murmurs to himself. "We did."

You close your eyes as each string vibrates and bends back into place beneath your guys' fingertips, the song still as beautiful on an electric as it would be on an acoustic. Your boyfriend's steady and warm breath heats up the side of your neck as he strums with you, and a delicate smile lifts your lips as his chin goes to rest on your relaxed shoulder. Once the song is done, you turn your head to the side and give him a passionate kiss, holding in a petal of laughter as Cliff lets out a soft sound of surprise against your upturned lips.

"What was that for?" He asks, resting the guitar on his middle and lap and encapsulating you in his arms. You move over until your side is clad with his, and simply say, "Because I love you." "I love you too."

Cliff smiles, his waterline set anew as he looks down at you and places his hands on top of yours. You rest your head on the middle of his bicep and reach down to pinch at his thigh, a cheeky grin on your face as he lets out a resounding yelp.

"For the pinch by my ass earlier," you chortle out before he can even open his mouth. "Next year, I'm getting you the hemorrhoid cream." Cliff bellows out a hysterical laugh and leans back on the bed, letting out a sarcastic oof as your upper half lands on his lap from his spontaneous movement.

"Want to go cut the cake?" He asks you, a grin nearly splitting his face in half at your next words. You move from his lap to stand up from the bed and offer him a hand, once the guitar is placed safely back onto the bed and the strap is removed.

"Just follow my lead."

#metallica #cliff burton #cliff burton imagines #cliff burton x reader #kirk hammett #james hetfield #lars ulrich #metallica imagines #metallica x reader #metallica smut #metallica fluff #metallica fanfiction

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

A Dark Invitation

https://www.patreon.com/empyreaniris?fan_landing=true

https://starr-fall-knight-rise.tumblr.com/post/182501791735/master-post

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jzEIdDAB4omdO2JcQVMObfrhLJ5kX4ONmSsLypM1ks0/edit?usp=sharing.\

It was red who had intercepted the letter, sealed in a small envelope black as deep space, and penned in red ink like ruby droplets. The letter had been tucked away inside another smuggled shipment of individual void vials bathed gently in the hellish orange light which seeped up from the crate.

It had been several weeks since their arcadia delegate had intercepted a similar void vial found concealed in the desk of a government official, and also several weeks since their secret extra GA summit at Hathor. All around the galaxy tips were committing in from the different colonies, and their private sources about void vials cropping up in strange places: concealed in the shipment of goods, toothpaste, unrefined metal, semiconductors, and even concealed inside the spines of books. 

Whispers and hints of the void’s existence were cropping up everywhere, in all corners of the galaxy, and even though they had managed to stop the spread on a mass industrial scale, trying to stamp out the void entirely was like trying to clear a cockroach infestation, when the roaches clearly have concealed nests inside the walls.

Other than fumigating the entire galaxy, there wasn’t much they could hope to do.

The letter had been their first actionable piece of intel in some weeks, and by that time Adam had finally healed sufficiently from his surgery, for Krill to clear him, reluctantly, for duty.

It was a good thing too because inside the envelope was an invitation.

He could feel it even now  pressing against the fabric of his breast pocket as they strolled up the marble pathway and towards the temple of the Oracle in new Athens. All around them people in similar stages of dress were doing the same. The atmosphere around them was lively and excited, torches burned at the side of the pathway, and overhead a distant gas giant lit the night sky with a burning red hue circled by one or two distant moons.

With the gas giant as bright as it was, the torches probably wouldn’t have been necessary, but they did add a sense of exotic excitement for a crowd that came, primarily from off world, where the use of torches, and marble architecture was a thing of the history books.

No one paid them any attention

But still, Adam could feel a cool rivulet of sweat dripping down his back, reaching up, nervously, to adjust his mask.

At his side, he could feel maverick shift, through the point where their arms interlocked.

All around them humans and aliens of all different shapes and sizes crowded up the pathway, moving with the slow, and steady drip of ooze through a pipe. Waiters dressed in the traditional clothing of ancient Greece plied the party goers with strong drink  and trays of exotic food. The air around them practically buzzed with anticipatory excitement.

All Adam felt was dread.

Inside his breast pocket, the stolen invitation seemed to burn there, ready to seer a hole in his costume and mark him as an outsider, and he had to keep reminding himself that the only way to blend in was to act natural. If he felt guilty then he would act guilty.

The letter, now in his possession, had been an invitation to members members of something calling itself ‘True Darkness’ The nature of the group was, as of yet, mostly unknown, but there were several theories being bandied about by the analysts down at the Arcadia Intelligence Offices those of which included: cult, religion, break of political party, or upcoming terrorist organization.

The letter had given no real clues as it wasn’t any sort of urgent strategic communication, but an invitation to a masquerade ball at the temple of the oracle in new Athens. The letter had said nothing else, other than its existence was a requirement to attend the party. If it weren’t for the fact that the letter had literally been found in a box full of void joice, Adam would already have been suspicious.

New Athens was nest from which men and women,who fancied themselves philosophers, did most of their unoriginal thinking. Instead of philosophy, what came out of New Athens usually amounted to  contrarian politics and hedonism wrapped in philosophical superiority.

The only right way was the way that made you feel good.

A “philosophy” that Adam found personally insulting, and downright stupid.

Sometimes you had to do things that hurt for what was right. If Adam had a personal philosophy at all it was that the right thing was often the thing that was hardest. This wasn’t always the case of curse, because to pin very decision on such a simple statement was to ignore the true nature of life.

If Adam had done what was right, and what felt good at the time, he never would have joined the UNSC, become a pilot, met aliens, married Sunny or had a son. None of those things were easy, all of them required a lot of sacrifice and heartache, but he'd be damned if he would have given either of them up.

This easy way philosophy was the perfect breeding ground for people who were, lazy, rude, entititled, and stupid, though he didn’t see anyone here asking his opinion. In fact, he wasn’t really able to glean anyone’s opinions about anything. Adam’s ability to read minds was a fledgling ability, and crowds were almost impossible for him to read. If he wasn't careful, opening his mind was like opening the floodgates on a damn, too much information all at once spilling through a crack that was too small.

Overwhelming him

They would have to do this the old fashioned way.

And so they had come in disguise, he and Maverick, much to Sunny’s frustration, but she was still on doctor’s orders to take it easy. After their previous run in with the void, Sunny had experienced a pregnancy scare, which amounted to distress in the unborn twins, and a possibility of spontaneous misscarage or premature labor.

Adam would have taken fighting on his own against an army of a thousand to losing a baby, an opinion which she shared but hated the entire time. Instead he had chosen Maverick for this mission, with her connection to the void. Celex was here somewhere as well, but without an invitation, it was hard to tell how he planned on getting in.

They had come by way of a pirate shuttle, concealing their identities the whole way. Both of them wore matching silver masks in the shape of wolves. Maverick had tried on a cocktail dress and some heels for the occasion, but maverick was about as elegant as a flaming brick flying through a windowpane, and the awkwardness would have been noticeable from a mile away.

Martha, who was dressing them for the occasion, had switched her to a suit that matched Adam’s, and the awkwardness had abated. 

And now, here they were, arm and arm they strolled through the crowd, passing through a collage of colorful clothing and glittering jeweled masks. Full face maks were common, but not nearly as common as the simple half masquerade masks done in silk and feathers and fake gems. A few people wore only one quarter masks, leaving the rest of their faces exposed. Even the aliens had joined in on the strange human tradition, rundi, tesraki, Drev, Iotins, Gromm, and so on. Adam was shocked to find an entire delegation of Tricar, noticeable by their bushy white tails sticking up over their heads.

Whatever this was, it was far reaching.

They were ushered up the pathway and onto the Temple steps, following the slow river of bodies into the gardens surrounding the palace.

Wine flowed like water poured in generous drafts from clay decanters held by waiters, only partially dressed and specifically designed to be dangerously provocative. The men were bare chested, and the women were well on their way to becoming so. They wore feathers and their bodies glittered with oil and a light dusting of metallic glitter. While humans were the majority of the wait staff, there were others as well, Tesraki, and Drev and so on, all of them dressed or picked to entice.

Adam was sure that at least some of it was an illusion under cosmetics. But never had he seen so many rare colors on Drev in his life, pearl white, silver, gold, pink pearl, and even a shade not dissimilar to Sunny’s lightning blue. All of them were tall and painted with ceremonial Drev war paint. 

The Tesraki decorated themselves in jewelry, and other signs of wealth, moving and twisting to whatever effect would be best to show off their perceived riches, using their shiny baubles to attract others.

The crowd diffused its way through the gardens, sitting themselves on cushions  and clustering into small groups for smalltalk.  A lot of them seemed familiar with each other, but there were also plenty of introductions.

Just ahead, security was stopping each partygoer and asking for his or her letter.

Adam shifted uncomfortably.

As they made their way to the front of the crowd, Maverick accepted a drink from a smiling young man with dark eyes and golden body paint, while Adam held up the letter for the security guard to see. He ddn’t bother to speak, and the guard didn’t pester him further as he walked up the steps with Maverick in tow.

Voices drifted up towards the dark sky filling the air with the humm of white noise, indistinct both inside his head and outside.

Adam scanned the crowd.

“Recognize anyone.:” Maverick asked keeping her voice conversational.

Whispering was likely to draw attention, and in a crowd this rowdy, their voices were basically drowned out anyway, and concerns about being overheard were almost nil unless someone were to walk right in the middle of the two of them. 

Adam shook his head, “Not with the masks on, and even the quarter masks aren’t helping.”

“I suppose that was the point,” She said dumping her drink surreptitiously into a nearby, potted plant.

The last thing they needed right now was to be tipsy.

“What do we do? You don’t think this is just some paty.”

Adam shook his head, “No, no this is just buttering everyone up before the main event, probably a speaker, or hell, maybe even Kazna.”

“Wouldn’t that be just perfect.” maverick said, the sneer muffled, but still audible behind her mask, Adam knew the feeling, probably felt it even more poignantly than maverick. If there was any person in the world Adam hated it was his estranged mother-in-law.

“What do we do now.” Maverick asked, watching as a group of men walked by already laughing too loudly to be sober 

“Mingle I suppose, before we look stupid.” 

Maverick snorted, “Too late for that, you always look stupid” 

“Thanks for that.”

“Anytime.”

Together, the two of them made their way forward, nodding to the people they met, and slowly making their way towards a refrhesmentstation, where Adam was able to integrate them into a small group,, all of whom were listening to the words of a man at the far end, holding a champagne glass, and wearing a mask in strange purple leather, and sharp silver frills.

It took Adam a few minutes to recognize it as made from the skin of a Jeffery sake.

“I have looked extensively into the subject, and my research has led me to one simple truth, and that is the innate desire for nothingness and death. This truth has been evident for thousands of years, which we see in early Freudian psychology with the idea of Thanatos, or the ‘death instinct’ aggression, and anger leading us down a road of self destruction, which is an innate desire for all sentient species on a subconscious level. You should read my book, it really is an enlightening read about the true nature of the universe and our desire to return to the natural state of nothingness.” He sighed deeply as if imagining the face of his lover.

Adam was glad he was wearing a mask. Never in his life had he heard such a load of bullshit, and he had three brothers and one sister who had been excellent at producing bullshit at a moment’s notice.

Somewhere in the distance a bell rang, calling the attention of all the party goers, who began to move in a slow moving mass towards the temple doors.

What sat beyond remained to be seen. 

[just-another-blog-of-fluff]

An Unfortunate Predicament - Part 2

I was overwhelmed by the sheer number of likes on my last post, and so I was inspired to continue yesterday's fic and write a part 2... The ideas flow while I'm writing the lead-in portion, and then I get to the tickling part and my brain goes ----does not compute---- and short circuits, so... hopefully this turned out ok!

Part one is here

Word count: 2300

* * *

You weren’t sure if he actually expected that you would willingly come down to greet the Avengers when they arrived home that evening, just so that you could keep your end of the deal. Regardless, you weren’t dumb enough to come out of your room when you finally heard the commotion that was your teammates entering the tower (mostly because Thor’s boisterous voice echoed in every corner of the building.) Just to be on the safe side, you remained in your room for the rest of the evening, scrolling through your phone and watching some TV to keep yourself entertained.

The following morning, you awoke to your stomach growling so loudly you thought Wanda could probably hear it through the wall in her room next door. Having hidden away for the entire evening, you realized you hadn’t eaten an actual meal last night, having only munched on some chips you had stashed away in your desk for when you got hungry while you worked. Reluctantly, you knew you would have to actually exit your room if you wanted to get some breakfast.

Besides – he must have forgotten by now, right?

… Of course not, you remembered. Loki doesn’t forget when someone crossed him, and he certainly didn’t forgive either.

Despite your knowing it was probably a very bad idea, you slipped on your softest pair of socks in hopes they would help muffle your footsteps before pressing your ear to the door, trying to hear whether there was anyone talking or shuffling about outside. Satisfied when you were met only with silence, you gradually cracked the door open and peeking cautiously out into the hallway.

Empty. Perfect.

As quickly as you could while still ensuring your every step was soundless, you tiptoed your way to the kitchen down the hall, pausing at the doorway to listen for any signs of movement. Nothing. Perfect. You leaned forward and peeked around the door frame, your weight shifted to the balls of your feet in case you needed to make a quick exit. Your eyes scanned the room from corner to corner, even glancing under the table and at the cabinet doors to assess for anything that might indicate someone was hiding in there.

Ok, so maybe you were a little paranoid.

Seeing nothing out of place, no cabinet doors cracked ajar or anything, you let out a breath and stepped into the room. You reached the fridge and opened the door slowly so as not to allow it to make that suction noise it always did. Someone had stolen the last yogurt cup apparently. Slightly annoyed, you scanned the fridge trying to decide what you wanted instead. You settled on a bowl of cereal, grabbing the bottle of milk and turning around to get the cereal box out of the cabinet.

“Eep!”

Heart leaping into your throat, you let out a sound that was somewhere between a scream and a squeak when you found yourself face to face with none other than the god of mischief himself, his face mere inches away from yours. In your shock, your fingers slipped from around the handle of the milk bottle. It would have exploded all over the floor had Loki not reached out and caught it with his cat-like reflexes before it hit the ground. He leaned toward you to place the milk bottle on the counter directly behind you, boxing you in with your back against the countertop.

“You didn’t show up to the common room last night.” He had a deep, menacing edge to his tone as he made this simple observation, his narrowed eyes and wide smirk only reinforcing the fact that you were in deep trouble.

Fight or flight instinct took over, and you rapidly ducked under his arm and started to sprint away from the trickster. Unfortunately, he had predicted this move, his hand latching onto your upper arm before you could even take two steps.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Ahah… well, you see, I have a really important assignment I have to get done, and I just came down here to grab some breakfast to take back to my room while I work, and…”

“Do you really expect me to believe that?” he chuckled.

“… yes?” you replied, your voice increasing an octave with nervousness. Loki shook his head, giving you a pitying look.

“Darling, I am the god of lies and mischief. I know a lie when I hear one.” You tried to jerk your arm abruptly out of his grasp in hopes it would catch him off guard, but he merely tightened his grip on your bicep. “I do believe we have some unfinished business, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Really? Because I thought we were done with that, actually…” you stammered, frantically scanning the room for some way to escape. Your eyes darted back to Loki, catching his gaze as he realized what you were doing.

“Sorry, but there’s no way out of this,” he declared. In one fluid motion, Loki had scooped you up off the floor into his arms, holding fast despite your kicking and squirming. You hadn’t realized you could become any more flustered around the god, but he had proven you wrong just now, your face burning hot. He started to make his way out of the kitchen, careful not to slam your head into the doorframe as he carried you out into the hallway.

“Loki! Put me down this instant!” you demanded, kicking your legs to try to throw him off balance.

“Hmm… no, actually, I don’t think I will,” he teased, tossing you up just the slightest bit so he could gain a better grip on you.

“Where are you taking me, then?” you growled. You could hear faintly the voices of the other Avengers in the common area, growing slightly louder as Loki continued to stroll along with you still captive in his grasp. “Really? You’re still going to make me announce that you’re ‘the superior prankster’ to the team? Don’t you think that’s sort of lame?”

“No, darling. I have more effective methods of humiliating you.” His eyes flitted down to glance at your face, his smirk expanding across his.

Was it possible to die from blushing so hard?

When Loki had finally reached the opening to the common room, the rest of the team glanced up at the two of you with immediate expressions of confusion.

“Good morning, lady Y/N! Why is my brother carrying you? Are you injured?” Thor asked, genuinely concerned.

“No! He’s holding me prisoner! Help!” you cried, starting to squirm again to try to get him to put you down. Tired of having to keep hiking you up to keep from dropping you, Loki finally lowered your legs so you could plant your feet on the floor. He wrapped an arm around you tightly, pinning you to his side so you couldn’t run off.

“Is that true, Loki?” Thor inquired, squinting at him.

“I just thought you’d like her to be here when I inform you all that I found her on the ropes course yesterday,” Loki announced. To your confusion, the entire team let out groans of frustration.

“What the hell?! We’ve been trying to decide who was going to make you try it with all of us! You never wanted to join in!” Peter complained. You raised your eyebrows in shock.

“Wait, what? Why are we changing the subject, here?? Do none of you care that he is holding me captive??” you protested.

“Sorry, Y/N, but this is unforgivable,” Tony sighed with mock disappointment, shooting you a mischievous wink. “The ropes course is a team-building activity. There’s no ‘I’ in team.”

“But… what… ugh. You guys are unbelievable,” you groaned, shaking your head.

“Don’t worry – that’s not all I learned about our devious little mortal yesterday,” Loki began. You immediately tensed up, heart pounding impossibly faster, although you weren’t sure if it was because of what you knew was coming next or because you were mortified to find you actually liked the unusual pet name he just used to refer to you.

“Oh really? Do tell,” Bucky urged, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees in anticipation.

“You see…” Loki reached over and grasped your wrists, yanking your arms behind your back so he could hold both wrists with just one hand. You looked up at him and bit your lip, shaking your head rapidly in desperate, silent protest. He merely grinned, wiggling the fingers of his free hand in the air at you to taunt you even further. You had to fight to keep yourself from allowing anticipatory giggles to slip out. “… our little friend, here, is devastatingly ticklish.”

Without further ado, Loki’s hand darted down to your side, squeezing rapidly as laughter immediately began pouring from your mouth. You twisted your upper body in hopes you could break his hold, but you quickly realized there was no escaping the vice grip he had on your wrists. Defeated, and weakened from laughter, your knees buckled, and you slowly sank to the floor. Loki only followed you down, finally letting go of your wrists in favor of freeing his other hand up to torment you. He moved his hands to your belly, scratching at it in the most maddeningly light and rapid way, eliciting a shriek from you.

“Oh, no way! She really is ticklish!” Peter exclaimed over your laughter.

“Damn. She’s worse than this kid,” Tony observed, patting Peter on the shoulder as he blushed and glared at his mentor.

“WHY AREN’T YOU HELPING MEHEHE!” you shouted, throwing your friends a betrayed look.

“Sorry, Y/N, but you’re just too damn adorable to make him stop,” Bucky apologized, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Meanwhile, Loki had pressed one of his shins down on both your legs, leaning on you to hold you down as his fingers traveled up to your sides. He drilled his thumbs into the front of your lowermost ribs, digging his fingers into the sides of your ribcage simultaneously. You supposed you should have known that someone with his mischievous title would be good at tickling, but the way his fingertips sought out every single one of your weak spots was causing you to slowly slip into madness.

“Why don’t you try her knees?” Wanda suggested with a smirk.

“Wanda!! Why are you helping hiHIHIHIM!” your voice pitched up an octave as Loki began to pinch the soft skin just above your kneecap, sending ticklish shocks up your leg.

“Thank you for the suggestion,” Loki said casually, removing his shin from your legs so he could reach around and flutter his fingers against the backs of your knees. Without his weight on you, you were free to kick your legs and squirm to try to escape. If you accidentally kicked Loki in the process, well, that was just an added bonus. At least, you thought so, until he wrapped his fingers around one of your ankles and dragged a finger down the sole of your socked foot to test your reaction.

“NOHOHO LOKI STAHAHAP!” you pleaded, jerking your leg wildly without success. Loki shot you a positively evil smile before lightly scratching five fingers up and down the bottom of your foot. You covered your face with your hands to hide the fact that you had never felt shyer and more embarrassed in your life, muffling your laughter behind your palms.

“Aww, lady Y/N, there’s no need to hide!” Thor insisted, kneeling down beside you and pulling your hands off your face.

“Ah, brother! Why don’t you help me hold her down? She is making this increasingly difficult,” Loki suggested, moving back up to torment your ribs again.

“Certainly, brother!” Thor obliged, tightening his grip on your wrists, and pinning them above your head. You shot him the biggest glare you could possibly muster in your frazzled state.

“THOR! That’s BETRAYAL!” you exclaimed. “What the h-“ Loki started to scribble his fingers into the soft skin under your arms and the remainder of your sentence died in your mouth, your body shaking in silent laughter. At long last, Loki finally took this as his cue to let up, tracing feather-light fingers along your sides to keep you giggling.

“What an unfortunate weakness you have. So easy to exploit,” he teased. Your blush spread down to your neck and up to the tips of your ears. Luckily, Thor let go of your wrists so you could cover your face again, doing anything in your power not to see the arrogant look of victory on Loki’s face.

“Whyhyhy Loki?” you groaned as he finally stopped torturing you. You immediately rolled onto your side and curled up in a ball, rubbing the residual ticklish tingles off your sides.

“Well, darling, I had to make a statement… Don’t mess with the god of mischief,” he warned, referring back to the prank you’d pulled when you hid his books.

“U-understood,” you acknowledged firmly, your breathing finally returning to normal.

“Well – that was the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. My day is made,” Tony teased, reaching down to pat you on the shoulder and causing you to flinch away involuntarily. “Relax, kid! You clearly need a break, I’m not that mean!”

“Sorry… reflex,” you mumbled. Loki stood and offered you a hand to help you up off the floor, which you took after a moment’s hesitation. “You… better not do that again, or I’ll… I’ll… punch you.”

“Really, darling? That was the weakest threat you’ve ever made,” he snickered. "Clearly you're losing your touch." Throwing your hands up in frustration, you turned around to walk back to your room, suddenly realizing you were still in your pajamas. “And I can’t make any guarantees,” he called after you, “so you’d better behave yourself!” You turned around and stuck your tongue out at him, eliciting a laugh, before you turned down the hallway and made your way to your bedroom door.

Note to self, you thought – Loki doesn’t do mercy.

#loki tickle #loki x reader #marvel tickle #ticklish!reader #tickle fic #tickle fluff #part 2! #I'm so happy so many of you enjoyed reading part one! #also I have an idea for another fic #might write it later this week…

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Long Con Part One

Prologue | Masterlist | Next Part Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader Rating: T Notes: Oh hey there! Welcome to Dany Has Been Googling Art Stuff For Like Two Months The Series. Warnings: Cursing (meant to mention that before WHOOPSADOODLE sorry) Summary: You’d never seen Agent Pike look anything less than collected, even in the thick of a case. 

“The Raft of the Medusa, huh?”

You didn‘t bother to look away from your laptop where you were stationed at your lectern.

“Géricault did good work,” You answered as you finished answering the email that you were working on. You knew that this couldn’t be a terribly timely or pressing matter, because the FBI agent that had shown up had bothered to sit through the second half of your lecture that morning. 

“How long have you guys been up to romanticism?” He asked.

“Oh, just this week. Géricault’s got a good range...Landscapes, horses, portraits… horses... current events… horses…”

“Lots of horses.”

“Yeah, he was kind of a horse girl.” 

You finally sent the email off and turned to look at Agent Marcus Pike. The man was, mercifully, still looking at the recreation of the Géricault painting. 

“This one of your old ones?” He asked. You laughed a little, leaning against the lectern. 

“No. I’ve got a friend in Atlanta that specializes in recreations of Delacroix and Géricault.” 

“He’s talented. I’ve seen the original, this is… Incredible.” 

“Mm, I know. The corpses almost look happy in this version.”

Pike’s brow rose and he gave you a look out of the corner of his eye.

“So?” You asked, “How can I aid the bureau today, Agent Pike?” 

He gave a small smile, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck as he turned to face you more fully.

“I’m actually not here on bureau business,” he told you, peering at you nervously. Your brows rose. You’d never seen Agent Pike look anything less than collected, even in the thick of a case. 

“You’ve got my attention,” You reassured him. 

--

You were trying so hard not to laugh, if not for the earnest look on Pike’s face. You watched him as you ran your finger along the handle of your coffee mug. The two of you had taken up residence at your favorite coffee shop and bakery, There Ain’t Muffin To It. It was a little out of the way of the college’s campus, but you preferred that - you hardly ever ran into your students that way.

Pike had insisted on paying for your coffee, and then he’d explained his… Situation. 

His fucking hilarious situation that you were really, really trying not to laugh at. 

“So…Just-- To make sure I’m on the level here,” You said, “Your sister Marnie is getting married in two weeks, and she was probably going to set you up with some cute hometown girl, and instead…” You had to pause, biting your lip to tamp down a laugh before going on, “Instead, you told her that you’re bringing… Me.” 

“That is the long and short of it.”

“And can I ask what possessed you to blurt out the name of an ex-fencer-turned-art-professor?” 

“I panicked and I was looking at the Coleman file.”

“Ah,” You nodded. You’d assisted Pike’s team on that case. A man named Augustus Coleman had recently come forward, claiming to have found Oudry’s White Duck. The work had, in fact, been a fake (though it was a very, very convincing one). You’d spent time with Agent Pike, looking over the painting itself and helping his team track down Coleman’s forger. It had been a lot of long nights, a lot of hard work, but Pike had given you implicit trust, and you’d gotten the job done. 

And now, apparently, he was trusting you with this, too. 

“I don’t… Lie well,” Marcus added, and you couldn’t help but laugh then. 

“I can see that.”

Marcus smiled, “I know this is an inconvenience. I wouldn’t ask you to fly down for the week I’m gonna be there--”

“But you’d want to?” 

Marcus winced, “My sister’s already passed your name on to my mom and I’m getting questions. You could just come in for the weekend. I’d pay for your airfare,” He tacked on. 

“Wow, you are desperate.” 

“What you said, about my sister setting me up with some-- hometown girl? It’s accurate, I’m pretty sure I know exactly who she would’ve tried to set me up with.”

“Bad?”

“No, she’s nice, but we don’t suit and Marnie hasn’t quite gotten that message.” 

Your brow furrowed, considered something. 

“Tell me something,” You leaned forward on your forearms, watching Marcus.

“Sure.”

“You could've found someone else to bring along, asked them to use my name and fake it to your family for two days. You’re actually asking me instead. Why?” 

Marcus’ eyes searched your face.

“Couple of reasons. Remember a minute ago when I said I was bad about lying?” 

You chuckled, “Uh-huh. The other reason?” 

“I need to go down there with someone that I trust. Someone that I know will have my back.”

“And someone that can lie?” 

“Exactly. See what you just said, about asking someone else to use your name? Didn’t even occur to me.”

You were quiet for a moment, considering Pike. The week that he’d named for the wedding was spring break-- you didn’t have any plans set in stone, just papers to grade. 

“...Can I think about it?” You asked. Marcus’ smile brightened at that. 

“Of course,” He nodded, “I appreciate it.” 

You believed that-- the man couldn’t lie for shit. 

-- 

That evening found you in your apartment, grading quizzes for your Intro to Greek and Roman Art course. Most of the students had a good handle on the subject, so the grading and corrections didn’t take you long. Once you’d finished, you poured yourself a glass of wine and settled down on your couch to find something to watch for the evening. 

Once you’d chosen a show, though, you really couldn’t focus on it. You had, after all, told Marcus that you’d consider his proposal. You were...Fond of Agent Pike. The agents that you’d worked with prior to his transfer to the D.C. office had all treated you with varying degrees of contempt when asking for your help on a given case; they’d kept your interactions to the barest of bare minimums, held you at arm’s length in regards to the cases that you were being asked to assist on, and hardly ever updated you on case outcomes - not that they were required to do so, but you had often wondered. Marcus Pike was so different from his predecessors. When he’d come to the D.C. office and had first needed your help on a case, he’d gone out of his way to introduce himself, the particulars of the case, and to say that, “any assistance that you could provide would be greatly appreciated.” And it hadn’t felt glib, either. You’d felt like the man actually wanted your help, wasn’t that he was just reaching out to you to cover his bases. You’d assumed that after that first case, the niceties would fall away, but Marcus had never been anything less than kind to you - even when he was stressed. He treated you with respect, understood that your time was your own, that you’d put your criminal past behind you. You were now using what you’d learned in that world to help the Bureau, and to teach.

The time you’d spent with him on the Coleman case had been the biggest eye-opener. He’d come to understand more about how you used to operate - the way you’d sold forgeries to money-grubbing, self-involved wealthy elites that cared more about owning a one-of-a-kind artwork, uncaring of where it had come from or why you had it; they hadn’t cared about the questionable and fake provenance, had only looked so close when examining the work itself. Your grandmother had been a painter, and a masterful forger - she had been the one to paint most of the forgeries that you’d helped to fence. She had taught you her tricks, connected you with the network that she operated within - she had gotten you arrested, and had been furious when you hadn’t taken the fall for her. You and Marcus had spent a lot of time together during the Coleman case - mostly working, but you’d had some downtime. There were times when he insisted that you sat down and ate, else the food would get cold. Others, when he had a question, he’d come to your office at the college, but he’d bring coffee with him, or some kind of snack - a little way of showing thanks before he even asked his question, even if you didn’t have an answer for him. Marcus was a good man. It was no wonder he needed help lying, especially to his family. Something he’d said to you that afternoon had stuck with you, though, something that was floating above the rest: “I need to go down there with someone that I trust. Someone that I know will have my back.” Marcus Pike trusted you. He was comfortable with you having his back - he was comfortable with you being around his family for a week. 

You picked up your phone, scrolling through your contacts to find Marcus’. You hit the ‘call’ button before raising it to your ear. He picked up on the first ring. “Hello?” He asked, and you smiled at the anticipatory tone. “Think they’ve still got any seats left on your flight?” You asked. Tag list: @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​​ ; @spideysimpossiblegirl​​ ; @blueeyesatnight​​ ; @elen-aranel​​ ; @yespolkadotkitty​​ ; @artsymaddie​​ ; @phoenixhalliwell​​ ; @lunaserenade​​ ; @winniedaboo ; @empress-palpat1ne​​ ; @randomness501​ ; @nutmeg-20 ; @leonieb​

#The Long Con #Marcus Pike x Reader #Marcus Pike x You #Marcus Pike/Reader #Marcus Pike/You #Marcus Pike Fic #Marcus Pike imagine

[loupettes]

Some Ten/Rose domestic fluff for the DoctorRose Fic Marathon, mostly to soothe my mental health but who doesn’t need more Ten/Rose in their lives?

T W E N T Y   O N E

SUMMARY: Ten/Rose. It's Rose's twenty-first birthday, and she's invited the Doctor along to a party thrown by her mum. A night of pub celebrations, boisterous friends and family gatherings, quizzes, a little bit of jealousy and some hard truths ahead, the Doctor must grit and bear the domesticity for his best friend — well, the love of his life. If only there was something to make it worthwhile..

TAGS: fluff, domestic, romance, jealousy, pub quizzes, everyone loves Rose Tyler (the Doctor being top of that list), mutual pining, longing, etc etc

Read on AO3: twenty one

***

“See you’ve found a way to pass the time,” she muttered once Laura was out of earshot, slipping her arm out from his and grabbing the napkin from the bar. She looked at it distacefully for a moment, before she passed the napkin to him.

“Enduring terrible flirting and being come on to is just one of the many things I’m voluntarily subjecting myself to to be here with you tonight.”

“How hard that must be for you.”

He couldn’t put his finger on why, exactly, she seemed irritated, and when Laura put the drink in front of her and begrudgingly took the tenner from the Doctor, Rose seemed to only sadden as she swirled her straw around in her drink.

“Just didn’t think you were interested in this sort of stuff, s’all,” she shrugged.

He frowned; he assumed she must have meant flirting. “I’m not.”

Rose looked at her drink for a moment, a pinch in her brow that he couldn’t translate. It wasn’t indifference, it wasn’t even the irritation she was projecting on her voice, but he wasn’t fond of it, he knew that much.

“Only got eyes for you, promise.”

***

It was one of those days, the ones he hadn’t really ever had to subject himself to in his many years of life, and he calls them ‘obligatory domestics’. The kinds of days where he needs to drop Rose off so she can do a bit of ‘life admin’: check in on her grandparents, nip to primark to get some basics, cash her birthday cheques, all that sort of stuff.

And then, of course, there were the days he needed to attend parties.

Now, he wasn’t a party person. Awkward small talk, terrible music — depending on the decade, of course — dreadful finger food, that annoying needless obligation to stay and ‘enjoy yourself’ when all you really wanted to do was leave. This was one of those days where Rose had a party to attend, and had asked him to just drop her off back at home for the night and they could get back to travelling the next day.

The problem was, it was her birthday party.

Now, if it were his birthday — if he even had a birthday — then he wouldn’t exactly call it a mark for celebration. Not even at the turn of a new century, and he most certainly wouldn’t call turning a thousand a celebration, which he was sure was coming up soon. And the funny thing was, Rose didn’t feel the need to celebrate birthdays, either. Well, unless they were somebody else’s; she would go out of her way to make that day astronomically special for them. So when she had turned to him last week, when they were out enjoying a milkshake in a diner on Panvorix, and told him, regrettably, that her mum wanted to throw her a birthday party with her friends and family for her twenty-first, which he was sure meant something to humans, he wondered whether he really needed to be there.

But, and this is where he finds it difficult: he somehow knew she wanted him there. She hadn’t explicitly said so, she had just sort of shrugged and said ‘you can come, too, although I doubt you’ll want to’. But other than that, she had talked about it as though she was going to go, not they. And if he only paid attention to her words and what she was saying, like he thought most humans — and, well, every other species in existence — did, then he would have felt no obligation whatsoever to join her. But these humans, and especially the British, have this odd sort of way of communicating where they would say one thing with words but also without them, and usually, the things they weren’t saying was quite different to the things that they were. And it seemed as though this was the case with Rose. Her lack of eye contact, the slight reddening in her neck, the indifference that he just knew wasn’t as indifferent as she would have liked it to be. She’d slurped her milkshake and changed the subject and that was that — no need to dwell. But once she had gone to bed that night, he wondered. He tinkered away in the control room and tried to interpret all those little things and he just couldn’t, so he gave up and decided to take her for her word. So he told himself, if she brings it up again, if she asks-but-doesn’t-ask him to come, then he’ll go with her. Otherwise, he’ll leave her with her mum for the night and come back for her the next day as she asked.

That was until Jackie called.

“You’re coming,” she had said flatly, and she had said it in such a frighteningly threatening way that he only nodded and agreed.

Rose had seemed most happy when he had said they were getting to her mum’s for midday on Saturday. She had quickly tried to hide it, and once more he got the impression that she was only acting nonchalant. But he wasn't quite sure, so he double checked just to be safe.

“You sure you want me there?”

She had frowned, and again shrugged without looking at him. “Course, you’re my best mate.”

And so here he was. Waiting in the control room for her, in a blue suit this time, while she packed her things in an overnight bag.

Today was her actual birthday. Her mum had called her all excited, wishing her a happy birthday — even though she was about to see her in a couple of hours. The Doctor had made her a cup of tea and said happy birthday, too, but Rose’s cheeks had flushed pink and he took that to mean that was enough making-a-fuss over her birthday for the day. Other than that, he hadn’t seen her all morning, and so when she entered the control room freshly showered and now in her jeans and a hoodie, her backpack slung over her shoulders, she grinned quite sheepishly and said,

“Hello.”

“Hello,” he echoed, a little less nervously. “All packed and ready, then?”

“I am indeed,” she nodded, and skipped over to him with a bit more gusto. “You mentally prepared?”

‘Oh, absolutely not.”

“Me neither,” she chuckled, and tugged on his arm. “You didn’t see mum on my eighteenth — she gets several octaves higher, just to warn you.”

He shuddered. “Well, lucky for you— and me, I suppose— my capacity to detect high pitches gets less and less with each passing century.”

“That’s good to know.”

   After they had gone to Nando’s for lunch, Jackie had asked the Doctor to join her and help set up at the pub while Rose got ready back at the flat with a couple of her mates. He hadn’t been in love with the idea — a few hours alone with Jackie filling him in on the gossip of somebody called ‘Bev’ while various 90s pop songs echoed through the room, that was — and she certainly did like to talk when she was excited. They had pinned a few ‘Happy 21st Birthday!’ banners around the room, chucked a lot of small plastic ‘21’s across the floor and the bar, and, by the time Rose called to say she was on her way, the room had filled with quite a lot of people indeed. Some family members he was sure he had met before, little kids of cousins he definitely hadn’t, and a few of Rose’s friends who seemed to know her family quite well. It was the first time that day he had sort of warmed, seeing that Rose had grown up with such a loving group of friends and extended family, and he even loosened just a little as he chatted to a few while they waited for Rose to turn up.

“Everybody, she’s at the bottom of the road!” Jackie called out loudly, when she received a text from Shareen. At that, people picked up nearby birthday poppers and whistles, getting to their feet with excited and anticipatory smiles — the Doctor even had a confetti cannon himself ready to go for when she walked in.

But of course, when she did walk in, he couldn’t do anything at all except look at her.

As people called out excited ‘happy birthday!'s and set off their poppers, the Doctor found himself completely anchored to the spot while the room only burst with colour and into life. He had always found her quite beautiful, especially when she was giggling away or saying something particularly clever, and he had even found himself breathless once or twice to watch her. But tonight, goodness — he wasn’t convinced he had two bloody hearts because neither one was beating and certainly neither of them were supplying oxygen to the rest of his body.

It was her smile, without a doubt. It was different somehow, like an old smile he was sure she must have used before she met him, to see all these familiar faces of her loved ones. That, and her cheeks were dusted a delightful pink, a little shy he knew she must have been to have so many people around her for her. Her hair was wavy for once, and she wore a black dress that the Doctor was momentarily ashamed to find himself looking at; the way it sculpted her curves and defined the most enchanting silhouette, cut mid-thigh and exposing her legs — and he was especially ashamed for his gaze to linger on those, but she was simply so exquisite, everywhere, that he soon felt instead the same overwhelming awe he gets when he studies a painting, ones in which the colours tell a compelling story and the shapes express feelings that words could not completely.

He still hadn’t managed to find his breath by the time she caught his eye, and he found himself desperately trying to cling to coherent thoughts when she nervously made her way over to him.

“Hello,” she said again when she got to him, pausing for a moment before she reached up on her toes to give him a hug. He had just enough semblance of normality to return the gesture, albeit weakly — still trying to process his thoughts as he was.

Tell her!

“Happy birthday,” he whispered instead, and he heard her giggle by his ear before she released him, and there was a moment where he could have told her just how breathtaking she looked, but of course, he didn’t.

Instead, she scratched her arm and looked around the room. “Thanks for helping mum set all this up.”

“Oh, right—” he cleared his throat “— sure, no probs.”

“You’ll have to fill me in on all the gossip later.”

“Don’t worry, I took notes.”

She chuckled, and her eyes softened as she looked at him, taking him in, and they seemed to even darken somehow, which sent an odd sort of sense of affirmation through him — he was right not to shave today, then.

“Listen, er—” she began, her brow creasing in awkwardness, and she started scratching her arm again. He watched her curiously, wondering what she was about to say and feeling strangely nervous, all of a sudden. “Please don’t — I mean, thank you for coming, it— I just wanted to say please don’t stay, if you don’t want to— if you’re feeling awkward or anything just feel free to, you know—”

“Rose, it’s alright,” he grinned, putting his hands in his pockets. “I’ll be alright.”

“I know, I just didn’t want the last of the Time Lords to perish here in this pub in Southwark out of boredom.”

“Yeah, would be a dreadful end to their race I must admit.”

“Not one for the textbooks,” she giggled. “Nor one I’d particularly like on my conscience, either.”

“Blimey, you’re right — lot riding on the entertainment this evening, then.”

“Well in that case, I should remind you that mum planned this party.”

“Oh,” he groaned, and sighed defeatedly while she only continued to chuckle. “It’s just a couple of hours. I can do it.”

   He sort of regretted saying that. Well, no, he definitely regretted saying that.

He’d spent the first hour or so meeting Rose’s family, and then after that getting to know five or six of Rose’s friends, sat around in a booth. They were all friendly enough, inviting him in as one of their own and of course, he thought, Rose’s friends would be charming, since they were Rose’s friends after all.

And then there was Callum, he thinks his name was, and at first the Doctor was able to maintain a calm composure despite his irritability when the lad put his arm around Rose, but after twenty minutes or so and he still hadn’t moved, the Doctor started to sincerely regret his decision to come here tonight and wondered whether he could quietly slip away and narrowly avoid some other, less painful end. But then Rose would give him that look, that smile that just seemed to settle him if only for the fact that it was hers. And so he stayed, listening to stories of their school days and joining in with their laughter until it became just a little too much, when Callum started whispering things to Rose when nobody else was paying attention. Rose didn’t seem particularly bothered by him, nor was she giving off any signs that she was uncomfortable, but he certainly seemed to have more of an agenda than she, and just enough that it pissed the Doctor off enough for him to excuse himself to get a drink instead.

“Just a Coke, thanks,” he said as he reached the bar, but the bartender looked back at him apologetically.

“Pepsi alright?” she said.

His shoulders slumped in disappointment because why would he want a Pepsi if he was ordering a Coke—

“Just kidding,” she grinned, reaching down for a glass and picking up a glass bottle of Coke. “Wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Oh,” he only half smiled, and loosened his tie just a little to finally just be able to breathe. “Well, that’s a relief.”

“You look like you could use something stronger, though.”

“Do I?” he frowned, somewhat surprised but not entirely that he must look exhausted to others. It was exhausting, realising that he was far too in love for his own good. But the bartender didn’t look like she thought that, not at all, as she grinned over to him.

“Parties don’t really seem like your sort of thing.”

He shook his head, resting his elbows on the bar. “No, not really.”

“So what is your thing, then?”

Earth wasn’t quite ready for the question to be answered with ‘time travel, mostly’, so he flustered a little in search of an answer more reasonable for the time period. “I tried soap carving, once. That was fun.”

She looked back at him completely confused for a moment, and he only added the admission to the long list of things he was regretting about this evening, before she gave him a friendly smile.

“Not something I would have expected you to say.”

When the Doctor only shook his head in hopeless exasperation, she grinned,

“I’m Laura, by the way.”

“John,” he retorted, as she placed the Coke in front of him.

“Nice to meet you John — this one’s on me.”

It took him a second to realise she had just bought him a drink — of Coke — but a common gesture nonetheless he was sure indicated flirting. “Oh— er, thanks.”

She nodded, but didn’t turn to serve any of the other guests, not that it was all that busy up at the bar, anyway. “So, John. Did you, er, come here with anyone tonight?”

As dreadful to admit as it was, he couldn’t say that he had. And it seemed so odd to him to think about, because he went everywhere with Rose, but he had never been anywhere with her. It wasn’t really something he had ever considered, whether he would like to start going places with Rose as his and he as hers, but now, as he thought about Rose with that slimy little git behind him, he rather wished that he didn’t have to fret. Not about the dreadful moment she tells him tonight that she’s going back to Callum's, and not about any other time in the future she would admit to having fallen in love with somebody else. It wasn’t a possessive thing, he didn’t want for nobody else to want her because she was his, but he wanted to just love her and be free to; no more of this pining and hiding and instead just be able to say that he was so terribly in love with her and that wasn’t going to change, no matter how much he wanted it to. Except he highly doubted she would want that, this nine-bloody-hundred-year-old alien who had murdered and cowered to be hopelessly devoted to her when she didn’t exactly ask for it. So, he swallowed, feeling his hearts sink in defeat as he did.

“No. Just me.”

Laura’s lips curled in triumph, and she leant in a little bit closer. “In that case, what are you doing tonight?”

If he was just that little bit less in love, he might have been tempted, he had to admit. But he was far beyond the point now of needing a distraction to this dreadful torment, he was much too in love with Rose to even be able to be distracted in the first place. Yet, he couldn’t quite find his voice to decline, so he only started to fluster as he broke eye contact, and took a sip of his drink in the meantime.

“Tell you what,” she smirked, taking a napkin from the bar and began to scribble something on it. “I finish at eleven-thirty. Here’s my number, just in case.”

As he helplessly watched her, he felt somebody put their arm through his as they approached the bar from behind, and was somewhat mortified to find Rose appear beside him. She looked quite peculiar indeed, an expression he had seen a couple of times aimed directly at the woman in front of her, and he glanced down in confusion when she placed her other hand on his arm.

“Malibu and Coke, please.”

Laura looked over to her, then down to her arm, then back up with a look that only seemed to mirror Rose’s. “Got any ID?”

Rose scoffed. “This is my party, you know.”

“Can’t serve you unless you’ve got ID.”

“Tell you what—” the Doctor interrupted, reaching into his pocket for the psychic paper as he heard Rose about to counter “—this one’s on me. Can’t have the birthday girl paying for her own drinks.”

Laura only looked back at him in disillusionment, her eyes flickered back to Rose. “Okay, but it was just you I was buying the drink for.”

Rose scoffed incredulously, and wrapped her arms around the Doctor’s only tighter as the two women seemed to be engaging in a fight without actually fighting. Or from what he could tell, anyway.

“See you’ve found a way to pass the time,” she muttered once Laura was out of earshot, slipping her arm out from his and grabbing the napkin from the bar. She looked at it distacefully for a moment, before she passed the napkin to him.

“Enduring terrible flirting and being come on to is just one of the many things I’m voluntarily subjecting myself to to be here with you tonight.”

“How hard that must be for you.”

He couldn’t put his finger on why, exactly, she seemed irritated, and when Laura put the drink in front of her and begrudgingly took the tenner from the Doctor, Rose seemed to only sadden as she swirled her straw around in her drink.

“Just didn’t think you were interested in this sort of stuff, s’all,” she shrugged.

He frowned; he assumed she must have meant flirting. “I’m not.”

Rose looked at her drink for a moment, a pinch in her brow that he couldn’t translate. It wasn’t indifference, it wasn’t even the irritation she was projecting on her voice, but he wasn’t fond of it, he knew that much.

“Only got eyes for you, promise.”

She seemed to only laugh in spite of herself at his words, and seemed to receive his joke — although he couldn’t be certain he had meant it to be one. She looked up at him through those devilishly long eyelashes of hers and he tried desperately to think of just about anything to say to change the subject.

“Having a nice night?”

Rose pulled up a bar stool and hoisted herself up, wiggling about to get comfortable. “S’been nice, yeah. So many mates I haven't seen in forever — not since we all went to get our GCSEs.”

He gazed to the side of her in thought. “Five years ago, that must be now?”

She raised her eyebrow, but didn’t smile. “Yeah. Can’t believe it.”

She started poking at the ice in her drink now, but not consciously. She was distracted, seemingly saddened by the thoughts running through her mind. He watched her hand, her nails recently painted, wearing the ring her mum had got her for her birthday.

“I’m twenty-one,” she almost whimpered.

“Wait till you get to nine-hundred.”

He was relieved to hear her laugh, a real one, and she glanced at him with kind eyes, her eyes, not those strangely woeful ones she looked at her glass with. “Yeah. If ever I’m feeling old, I’ll just think about you instead.”

“There are some benefits to being ancient, then.”

She giggled, and it only seemed to tickle her more until he saw her completely, Rose as he knew her returned back to him. It relieved him, and he realised he had stiffened to see her so glum. She glanced once more down at the napkin and he sighed, unsure exactly what she was thinking, before something told him to lift up her glass and place it underneath instead. She turned to him with a shy smile, her lips thin as she tried to hide whatever emotion was surfacing, and she was unable to hold his gaze for long when she leaned against him to nudge his arm with hers. An apology, he guessed, and he himself tittered in response. She was less saddened certainly, but her silence was not quite unburdened, so he sought,

“What’s on your mind?”

“Hmm?”

“You,” he said softly. “I know you don’t like your birthday, but something’s up.”

She once more gave him one of those thin smiles, a smile he recognised was one she was trying to put on for him but unsuccessfully — he knew her, afterall. She sighed, and shook her head.

“Everyone’s… it’s just so strange. Being back, after having been away. Things have just… happened. Like Charlie’s had a baby, can’t believe it. She’s younger than me.”

So that was it. He felt an odd sense of guilt in the centre of his chest that only sank lower, and he realised she had only been confronted with how much she had missed since travelling with him. How much she was missing out on, and how much he had taken from her while he only wanted to keep her for himself. But he didn’t suppose she needed his self-loathing tonight, so instead, he frowned as he thought.

“Charlie’s your…” he began, trying to remember as he scanned the room.

“Cousin.”

“Right,” he nodded. He was surprised to find her watching him with a gentle smile when he looked back at her. “What?”

“Nothing,” she grinned, sheepishly, looking down briefly as her smile only grew less so and slightly more endeared, might he say, instead. “Just you, trying to learn all my family and friends.”

“Trying being the keyword there — there’s a lot of them.”

“I know, but it’s funny,” she teased, that tongue sticking out of her teeth that he had to quickly avert his gaze from, “You can remember something complex and yet still get lost remembering the names of my family.”

“My mind sadly is not a TARDIS,” he jibed, and she chortled delightfully into her glasses as she took a sip. “Everytime I have to remember one of your cousin’s names, I have to forget about something else. I’ve forgotten Einstein’s special relativity equation to remember you have an Aunt called Jeanette.”

“Well, that's a bummer for relativity, because my Aunt’s called June.”

He frowned at her, momentarily fooled, before he rolled his eyes. “No she’s not.”

Rose scoffed with her mouth agape in shock. “Yes she is!”

As she giggled away, he vaguely recalled meeting a month, before his eyes widened and he blinked in defeat.

“Blimey, right then.”

Rose put her drink back down on the bar and struggled to contain her giggles and, goodness, he simply couldn’t look away. Her eyes scrunched shut, her nose wrinkled and smile so bright, she was impossibly beautiful when she was like this, her laughter sounding so pure and so wonderfully joyous. He wasn’t convinced she was laughing solely at his complete inability to remember anything remotely related to something so important as her family, because he only imagined it to be quite disappointing, but he wasn’t about to step in and stop her, especially not when he felt his own smile begin to grow at seeing her this way. She shook her head and opened her eyes as her giggles subsided but smile remained and she looked at him in the most breathtaking way and he could feel himself falling, needing to physically stop himself from leaning in closer to her.

There was a moment, one terribly long agonising moment, where he thought he might just falter. Despite everything inside him begging him not to, he found himself unable to hear himself when her eyes locked with his in such a way, in fact, the only thing that was able to prevent him from kissing her was knowing how terribly awkward it would be when she pulls back, wondering what on Earth he was thinking to presume she would want him to kiss her. So he swallowed, and looked away, back down at his drink and he took another sip.

Thankfully, before he had a chance to make a fool of himself and try to string a sentence together, he was interrupted by a voice sounding from a microphone behind them. They both turned, and, over at the corner of the pub stood two of Rose’s girlfriends, both of whom he remembered were with them at the table earlier, standing with a few pieces of card in their hands.

“Ahem — can we have everyone’s attention, please?” one of them — he was sure her name was Grace — announced, a smug anticipatory smile donned her slightly flushed face, and the room went quiet a moment before the music turned down, too. “Hi! Good evening, everyone! So, in case you aren’t all aware yet, today is our very own Rosie Tyler’s twenty-first birthday!”

The room broke into applause, a few cheers and the odd wolf whistle as many turned to look at Rose beside him.

He teased quietly only to her, “Rosie?”

“Shut up,” she muttered as she elbowed him, but couldn’t stop grinning despite herself. “Little gits know I hate being called Rosie.”

“So before we get started, a very happy birthday to you!” the other girl — Cara, was it? There goes Euler’s equation, he surrendered — said into the microphone. “We hope you’re having a great night, and we love you—”

“Even if she did nick my GHDs.”

Rose snorted when Grace stuck her tongue out at her. “I did not! I just forgot to give them back to you!”

“Hmm, how convenient— anyway,” Grace stressed, and the room was chuckling to their playful teasing. “We thought we might play a little game, before we start the, er, slideshow in a bit—”

“Oh, god,” Rose muttered under her breath, and the Doctor sniggered quietly.

“— just a quick ‘How well do you know Rose Tyler’ quiz. No teams, no competition, strictly for embarrassment purposes alone.”

“Get me out of here,” Rose whispered to him, but he stayed firmly put.

“Oh, absolutely not. I’m staying for this.”

“Then I’m going to fly your ship myself and leave you here stranded.”

“Fine by me, I want to see all those pictures you’ve been so adamant remain hidden away in a box every time we go round to your mum’s.”

She groaned, and hid her face in her palms.

“So, without further ado: question one.” Grace paused for dramatic effect, reading the words on her paper with a teasing smile. “What was the name of Rose’s first boyfriend?”

“Oh my god, my mum’s here—”

“Jimmy!” one of her friends shouted, and the Doctor felt Rose bury her face against his arm.

“No,” she whispered, about the same time Grace called out,

“Incorrect!”

“Craig David!” a male voice shouted, and Rose groaned loudly as the room went quiet.

“That is correct!”

The Doctor scoffed next to her as the rest of the room erupted into laughter. “Oh, come on.”

“Rose absolutely believed she and Craig David were meant to be back in year six, and told everyone they were boyfriend and girlfriend,” Cara giggled, and the Doctor only chuckled to hear Rose repeatedly whispering ‘Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god’ into his arm.

“Had to get her a poster!” Jackie called with a squeal of delight.

“Get me— you’re a Time Lord for god’s sake, go back in time and stop this from all happening!” Rose urged.

“Not a chance.”

“Question two!” And once more, the room went quiet in anticipation. “And a little less embarrassing, maybe—”

“Thank God,” Rose mumbled. At that point, he couldn’t really stop himself from giving her arm a gentle stroke.

“— Which film was Rose obsessed with at the beginning of secondary school?”

“Easy! Back to the Future!” another one of her friends called out.

The Doctor scoffed, “You’re kidding?”

Rose pulled away, then, unashamed. “Marty Mcfly, hottest fictional character in the world, I stand by it.”

“If I dress up in that puffer vest and the TARDIS gets her act together to disguise as a DeLorean, are we just playing out your secondary school fantasy?”

“Why do you think you had me so hooked with ‘did I mention it also travels in time’?”

“And that is correct!” Grace called, and just on queue, The Power of Love began to play through the speakers. Rose shook her head, and broke into a timid but unabashed smile.

“How many gigawatts to travel in time, Rose?” Grace called.

“One point twenty-one!” she volleyed, unashamed.

“Is that all? I’ll remember that for next time,” the Doctor whispered, and she elbowed him with a smirk.

“Question three — and sorry, Jackie — but why did Rose get two weeks of detention in year eleven?”

“Oh my god no!”

“Two weeks!” The Doctor kept his exclamation hushed, and once more Rose turned back around to face the other side of the bar, but he tugged on her arm to bring her back around, leaving her unable to hide her embarrassment and red hot cheeks.

“For skipping maths to snog Jimmy in the art room!”

“Rose!” Jackie gasped loudly as the room cheered.

“This is the worst thing that has ever happened in my life ever,” she groaned to the Doctor, and he only found her that much more gorgeous as she looked so delightfully mortified.

“That is correct!”

Rose whimpered quietly to the Doctor as the rest of the room erupted into laughter, “Please do that thing again where you make me forget all of my memories.”

“The snog wasn’t that great, then?”

She shuddered. “Far too much tongue.”

“How delightful,” he chuckled, feeling a peculiar sense of victory.

“Question four!” Grace called, and waited for the room to settle. “Which medal did Rose win in the county gymnastics?”

“The bronze!” the Doctor called, surprised but unashamed for calling out himself, and the room roared in cheer and a thunderous applause broke out.

“And quite right!” Cara hailed into the microphone, and Rose bumped arms with the Doctor.

“Was only the bronze,” she mumbled.

“Hey!” he denounced, “The bronze is bloody excellent!”

Her smile was thin and bashful and begged to be attended to; he responded without thinking by pulling her into his side and she wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Okay, okay, our last and final question—” somebody at one of the nearby tables began to perform a drum roll as Grace paused to read the card “— What did Rose do on her eighteenth birthday?”

“Get absolutely hammered?” someone suggested, and by the way Rose only hid herself further into his chest and shook her head, he imagined they were right.

“More detail needed!” Grace called.

“My whole family’s here,” she whimpered quietly.

“How PG are we keeping it?” one of the boys from the table they were all sitting at earlier shouted, and they giggled amongst themselves.

“Oh god, was it that bad?” he whispered to her, but she just kept shaking her head.

“More PG than your eighteenth, Liam,” Cara pointed out, to which Liam held his hands up in his surrender.

“Didn’t you throw up at Tottenham Court Road bus stop?”

“That was not me!” Rose called out, releasing her hold on the Doctor. He folded his arms, now very aware that the rest of the room was looking at them. “That was Shareen!”

Shareen gasped somewhere in the crowd. “You little grass!” She slammed her hand down on the table and stood up. “And for that, I’m breaking my silence — on Rose’s eighteenth birthday, she got drunk and performed ‘Steps, Tragedy’ up on a table on Carnaby Street in front of the entire street with accompanying dance moves — and she fell down at the end.”

“And we have the video to play to you all later!” Cara beamed, just as the room erupted into an excited cheer.

Rose shrieked in protest, her cheeks burning red and the Doctor only cackled at the image of Rose drunkenly bearing her heart and soul out to what he knew was her favourite girl band of the 90s, so he could only imagine how animated that performance must have been. People had got to their feet, cheering and clapping as Rose hid her face in her palms and Tragedy began to blare through the speakers. Some chanted along, some were too lost in their own giggling and retelling of old anecdotes, and some flocked to Rose to give her gleeful hugs and cheer her on. But something about it saddened him all of a sudden, watching as Rose was swallowed up by the love of her friends so fierce and unashamed, a dull and remorseful ache somewhere in his chest that he couldn’t quite place but certainly didn’t like.

He turned back around and spotted Laura, now leaning against the back bar, and he caught her eye.

“I’ll take that stronger drink, now.”

She glanced over at Rose, now completely lost to the crowd, then back at him, and nodded.

He didn’t drink often, not at all, so he insisted only on a single, handing Laura a fiver and telling her to keep the change. He got to his feet, grabbed his jacket, and slipped quietly outside and into the pub garden.

The night was pleasant, the stars for once visible over London, but he imagined most might not catch them so clearly amidst the surrounding light pollution. There were strings of warm fairy lights hanging from the brick wall that surrounded the quite large garden, a few pub benches dotted around with even less people quietly chatting amongst themselves over a beer and the odd cigarette. What encouraged him the most was the quiet, the peacefulness that greeted him as he stepped out of the pub, sitting down on one of the vacant tables just under a tree with yet more fairy lights hanging from it.

He sighed deeply, but he found he wasn’t quite fully able to breathe in all the way, like something caged his chest and prevented it from fully expanding. He took a sip of the — what he discovered was — whiskey and shuddered to feel its heat trickle down his throat, settling something that had been rising in his body all night. He looked down at his hands, quivering now although he was not cold, and swallowed thickly.

He was in love, he had known that for a long time. But tonight he had realised how terribly irrevocable it was, how awfully trapped he had made himself in his dreadful and unavoidable addiction to her, how he had known this was going to be devastating and he was going to regret it but yet hadn’t cared. And now here he sat, alone as he always was and always would be, wondering just how he might survive this in the end.

It wasn’t that he worried about the day she would no longer be with him, although that wasn’t a thought he liked to entertain. It was this horrible ache, a dullness in his bones, a contradiction to the life she inspired within him. It was twisted, it was confusing, and it was devastating.

He looked up at the stars, a universe above him that he knew and yet didn’t. Taking another sip of his whiskey, and following another subsequent involuntary shudder, he closed his eyes to the return of that hollowness in his chest. The vacuum above felt infinitely small in comparison, and he knew there was no fighting it’s torture except to grit and bear it for as long as she stayed with him, and even longer than that.

He didn’t shudder when he took a third sip of his drink.

He had been so lost in his thoughts for so long that he only realised the environment had altered when a figure sat beside him. There were less people now he realised, only one or two at a table a few away from his, but none of that seemed to matter when he saw it was Rose who had sat down next to him.

“You alright?” she asked.

“Hmm?”

She shivered, and looked down at his drink. “Bit too much back in there, yeah?”

He couldn't reply at first, but his lie found his tongue at the time that he swallowed. “Na, it’s been alright. Just needed five outside in the quiet.”

Rose grinned, a warm smile he knew well, and shivered once more. The goosebumps began to line her skin, soft hairs rising on her arms, and he glanced down at her things to see the same pattern emerging there. He unbuttoned his jacket and slipped it off, attentively hanging it over her shoulders and she looked down with a smile, pulling it tighter around her.

“Thanks,” she whispered, a soft sound that settled on the air and he closed his eyes to it, trying to still what it did to his hearts. Once more, he breathed deeply, now that he could as she sat close to him, and when he opened his eyes on his exhale he saw her looking down at the table, mulling over something in her mind.

“Are you alright?” he murmured, and she closed her eyes to that.

“Mmm. Just needed to step out — don’t like havin’ all the attention on me, you know that.”

Funny, he thought, if she knew just how much she claimed all of his attention, his thoughts and dreams, his hopes and longings, even down to his physiology and heartbeat, she would flee.

Her legs had started to bounce — anxiously or because they were cold, he didn’t know — but he found himself looking at a mole on her thigh, one he of course had never seen before. He closed his eyes once more in a desperate plea to try and stop the thoughts from drowning him, of how much he wanted to see every piece of her, to know all her moles and the feel of her skin under his fingers, to learn her and know her in a way nobody else did or ever could possibly again.

“Y’know, I remember the first time you met all my family, when we were huddled in my mum’s living room watching the telly,” she grinned, and her voice encouraged him to avert his gaze, and, thankfully, his thoughts. “Said you didn’t do domestics and all that.”

“I still don’t,” he pointed out, and she sniggered. “I have no idea how I keep finding myself in these situations so often.”

“I think you like them, really.”

“I like you, there’s a difference.”

She chuckled, “So if I’m understanding you correctly, the last of the Time Lords bends to nobody’s will except mine?”

“You understood that correctly, yes.”

Her gleeful hum in response was enough for him to let her believe he was exaggerating. After a minute or two, she spoke again.

“I used to come here all the time. Most Thursdays after work. Sometimes it’d be all of us — it was quite central for where we all worked — and sometimes it’d just be me and Mickey.”

He grimaced as she rubbed salt into the wound unknowingly. He was reluctant to admit to himself just how many hours he had spent thinking about them, of their dates in the park and stolen kisses in her lunch break, of nights spent together and mornings in love. He glanced back down at the mole on her leg and knew of course he wasn’t going to know her as nobody else did, he never could even if he did ever give in to his hearts.

“It’s like a different life,” she sighed. “I always thought this sort of stuff would hit you in your thirties, lookin’ back over your school days and realising how much had changed since then. But I’m twenty-one, and it feels like a completely different me and it was only two years ago!”

He was still while she spoke what was on her mind. He didn’t get the feeling that she regretted it so much, and he was a little relieved at that. But he thought perhaps it was more the speed of time passing that stunned her, her perspective of it all shifting and she wasn’t quite ready for it. As a Time Lord, he so wished he could slow it down for her, make it just that little bit more manageable because, truthfully, it terrified him sometimes, too.

“It’s only that you fill your life with so much that it feels that way,” he tried, and she sniffed in the cold. “It feels a bit like time passed you by because, well, it has. You didn’t even see it go, you were far too busy moving and adapting but it passed, at the same rate it always does. But you didn’t.”

She frowned, and gave him a lopsided smile. “I suppose you would give me some nonsensical explanation of time that oddly makes sense.”

“It’s what I’m here for.”

“Really?” She scrunched her nose. “I thought you were here to protect time.”

“Whoever told you that?”

She rolled her eyes with a more symmetrical smile now, her hands moving to cover her face as she attempted to hide just how funny she found his joke. “If it’s this bad at twenty-one, must be bloody awful for you.”

He inhaled sharply, making her giggle more. “The trick is not to think about it.”

“Take each day as it comes,” she reflected, and he hummed beside her in agreement. “They were right, all those adults. Everytime they said to live each day to the fullest.”

“That they were.”

And then she seemed to sadden again. After a moment, and with a quiver to her voice, she whispered,

“If only it didn’t make time pass faster that way.”

He nodded slowly in agreement, although he protested she be thinking such morose concepts on her twenty-first birthday. She began to pick at the skin around her nails, the nail polish on her thumb had chipped and he knew she must have been doing this all night, then.

“Why don’t you like your own birthdays?” he asked, realising that he never had.

She shrugged. “I used to love my birthdays. Birthday cakes, party bags, trips to the London Fields Lido and all that stuff.”

“Then what changed?”

She hesitated, and frowned. He waited while she thought, but he realised at some point she wasn’t searching for the answer, she was only debating whether to give it to him. Eventually, she swallowed, and spoke flatly,

“I met a Time Lord.”

And there it was. He felt his thoughts click into place, then, that strange sadness about her all day that he hadn’t quite been able to interpret finally making sense. It was, truthfully, his biggest regret, although he should have seen it coming, and he only gritted his teeth at his own negligence.

“Rose—”

“No, but think about it,” she insisted, and for once he found himself wanting to listen to her, to hear her worries about something he considered constantly. She seemed too intent on bearing herself to him here, in this garden, on this night, and he could only let her. “Every day I get older—”

“You’re twenty-one, that’s hardly you getting older—”

“But it is!” she retorted, a strange smile that wasn’t a smile by any means only holding back her tears now and he didn't know how they had got here, but his hearts ached to see her like this nonetheless. Her mouth hung open as if to say something else, but she seemed unable to and only let out a small croak instead.

“Hey,” he murmured, and he took the opportunity to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, curling his fingers as he dared himself to brush her cheek. “I do not want you to miss out on any of this because you’re afraid of getting older next to me.”

“M’not afraid of getting older,” she contended plainly. “I’m afraid of leaving you all alone.”

His breath was uneven as he exhaled, but he didn’t think she would have detected it. He dropped his hand back down to the table, and she sniffed wetly, seemingly annoyed by herself for some reason. She bit down on her bottom lip with her eyes closed before she opened them to find his, holding his gaze firm. He saw all of her, then, the things she didn’t want him to see in her eyes even in this light, and he knew she must be seeing all of him, too.

Because it consumed him to learn that this was how she felt. That she regretted each passing day because it was one less day — not that she got to spend with him, but that he had left to spend with somebody. The dreadful wringing of his chest at that, at knowing how much of her life and how many of her days she was spending in fear for his inevitable loneliness when that was only his worry, his concern. Rose wasn’t supposed to feel any of that, much less break her own heart every day, and he realised he must have been doing a terrible job at keeping those worries and concerns to himself. Rose only ever wanted everybody else to be okay, and now, on her twenty-first birthday, she was furious with her own mortality for getting in the way, stopping somebody she cared for so deeply from hurting.

So he had no alternative, really, when he leaned in to her this time. He just about had enough control to pause, give her the chance to pull away if she so wanted, and it seemed as though time completely stopped as he did. He could hear her breathing shallow, see the goosebumps line her neck and he took that moment, those few seconds, to learn her as he had wanted. His eyes found another mole on her collarbone, and upwards, the pulse in her neck at having him this close to her. A quiet and strained whimper on her lips, a plea, and then the feel of those lips against his.

He had always wondered how she would taste. The time he had kissed her on Satellite Five, he had only done so to take the time vortex from her, and for that his senses were mostly dulled. Now, as time slowly began to resume once more, he couldn’t taste a thing either; all he could do was feel. This overwhelming relief surging through him, his hearts beating as they should to feel this alive, and, for a moment, an assertion that nothing could tamper with his hope.

And then she gasped; her mouth opened and that’s when he could finally taste her. And he did, the tip of his tongue finally tasted home as it explored the texture of hers and everything he was learning about her he already knew. Because she was familiar, she was her, he knew her lips already and running his tongue along them told him nothing new about them but yet wanted more even still, to know how her bottom lip felt between his teeth, and he was a quick learner, picking up on the sensitive spots that would draw her moans and which of them would catch her breath in her throat.

His heightened senses had thus far only proven to be most valuable, until now, because she consumed all of him to a point where it was too much, and he had to break away, just to focus. But she didn’t hesitate to keep going, so keen was she on tasting him too, and she trailed her kisses across his cheek and along his jaw and this was new, feeling her learn him with her own senses, the moans she drew out herself at certain points on his skin.

“Rose,” he breathed, a plea and a promise in itself, and she brought their lips back together once more.

She began to shift without breaking their kiss and he felt her move one of her legs over him, soft chuckles she released onto his lips as she fumbled onto his lap on the most uncomfortable bench he could remember sitting on. But he quickly lost all conscious recognition of the world outside him, outside them, when he felt her hands move to cup his neck before her fingers slowly trailed up and through his hair. Her lips curled when he groaned and a second later so did she when she ran her nails back down. Their kiss was broken when her head rolled back to the feel of his hands on her thighs, sliding up to her waist where they held her hips close to his and in their respite, his lips found her neck and he sucked, just over her pulse, her breath catching in response. He felt her hands loosen as they became less conscious of their actions and more reflexive to her feelings and he felt her pulse drum fervently beneath his lips. With a final nip to her skin, he released her, the darkened bruise forming he could see even under this light, and pride raptured his veins to have finally claimed just a part of her as his. But then the trouble was he wanted to claim all of her as his, if she would let him, and by the way she rocked into his hold when he pulled away only confirmed that she would. As her lips began their descent once more down onto his skin, pressing sweet and messy kisses down the bridge of his nose and to his lips, he realised he couldn’t find the trouble in it at all.

He deftly slipped his jacket off her shoulders and shuddered at the speed in which her goosebumps prickled beneath his fingers, before he dragged them slowly across her shoulders and down her back, as far as her dress would allow. One hand stayed where it was, exploring the planes of her shoulder blades as they contracted with the movement of her hands, and the other travelled south and to the small of her back where he pressed, gently, until she arched into him. That move released another sound from her lips, much lower this time, much deeper and hungrier and his was only lustful in response. She tore her lips from his to bow her head to his shoulder, pausing only to catch her breath with the intent of resuming, so he peppered his kisses this time further down her neck, softening as they pressed across her shoulder until he felt her lips on his neck, her teeth grazing his skin as she matched the mark made on hers. He shivered to know she was doing the same, marking him, and he moaned into her skin as he allowed her to.

“I want you,” she breathed, he was sure she was trying to sound firm but her need strained her request. “But not here.”

He remained still as his surroundings began to settle into their rightful place and he remembered where they were. He was in no way ready to pull back, but he couldn't exactly keep going, so instead he kept his eyes closed as he followed the trail of his hands on her body, slowly tracing the curves and dips of her frame. She didn’t move either, but it seemed she too was focused only on his hands, as she had since stopped exploring him herself. To feel her in this way, to roam freely as he wished while she remained compliant and willing above him, prevented him from asking if she was sure she wanted him, and if was even a little bit more level-headed than he was at the moment, he would ask if she had really thought this through.

But all he could seem to focus on was her words, the sound of her telling him she wanted him. After that, nothing else mattered.

“Doctor,” she whispered again, and he opened his eyes to find that mole on her collarbone beneath him. He swallowed, and with considerable difficulty, and pressed his lips to it before he finally pulled away.

She cleared her throat and started to shift off of him and he spotted the other table glance over in their direction. Right, he thought, scratching the back of his neck and neatning his — he was sure — disheveled hair. Public decency, must remember that one.

Rose was grinning sheepishly by the time she settled down next to him, and for a moment, neither looked at the other. He swallowed, now that he was finally able to, and ran his palms over his trousers to neaten them down just a little. Rose tugged on the hem of her dress to bring it a bit further down her thighs and he swallowed again to see her legs bare, having only very recently felt them beneath his hands, and the tips of his fingers tingled at the memory.

Rose let out a breathy laugh, then, and he glanced over to her just at the time she looked up at him. She drank him in, her eyes flickering across his face, but he couldn’t quite do the same; he found himself transfixed only on her eyes.

“C’mere” she grinned, licking her thumb and rubbing it across his cheek. “You’ve got lipstick all over you.”

He nodded, before he gestured to her. “Funnily enough, so do you.”

She pressed her fingers to the side of her lips and giggled while he fumbled around in his suit pockets for some makeup wipes, and then she brought them down to her neck to press gently into the bruise beginning to form over her pulse.

“Bit more worried about everyone seeing that.”

He raised his eyebrow. “Didn’t hear any complaints from you when I was giving it to you.”

“Nope,” she affirmed smugly. She tugged at the wipes when he pulled them out, taking one and began cleaning up his face. “Think I’ve got some concealer in my bag, anyway.”

“Your bag’s inside.”

“Bugger,” she cursed, and he chuckled. “Reckon you could go and grab it for me before anyone sees?”

He pointed to his neck. “I think we just have to own this one, Rose.”

“It’s a lot easier to own it when everyone doesn’t know you.”

“It’s only you they know.”

“Right,” she beamed, “so you won’t have a problem going and getting my bag then, will you?”

“Bugger,” he cursed, and she chuckled.

He watched her, then, the golden lights shimmering in her eyes as she smiled, her lips still a little swollen and hair messier now. She wasn’t aware of him watching her, he didn’t think, so she was caught off guard when he began to smooth down the strands, running his fingers softly through her hair to bring back a bit of order. As he did, his gaze remained fixed on her, the shy way she kept herself still and allowed him to sort her out, to fix her back up as if she needed fixing in the first place.

“You are…” he tried, but the word was lost on his lips. He had no way of surmising her beauty at that moment, and he supposed that's why people looked to poetry or song in times where words weren’t adequate to suffice.

Perhaps she didn’t need any of that, because she seemed to understand exactly what he was trying to say, or at least the depth of it. She took his hand then, which had since frozen in his quest to articulate just how captivating she was, and brought it to her lips. She kissed each of his fingers deliberately, carefully, attentively, her eyes closed as she spoke the words caught in her throat on his skin and all he could do was listen.

God, she was divine. He felt the way his hearts completely responded to her alone, their slight quickening as her lips brushed his skin and the harder they beat for her when she released him. He was sure they had a song about them, her song, and he could have them converse with her for as long as he lived.

“What are you thinking?” she murmured, and he had been mostly — no, completely — unaware of her watching him. He wasn’t quite ready yet to translate his hearts’ intent, so instead he leaned back into her, touching his lips to the corner of hers to kiss her where he was hesitant to pull back, captured instead by a sweetness that lingered on her skin. When her lips curled beneath his, he finally did pull away; not too far though, just enough for her to hear the words he didn’t speak.

Neither said anything, for a while. Not through their searching for something to say, but simply because this was unlike them to be so close and they were familiarising themselves with it.

He was falling in love with it.

“You know,” she whispered with a smile, “I don’t think I’ve ever known you to say so little.”

“Would you prefer it if I were babbling away instead?”

“God, no,” she chuckled as he pulled away. “Think I can safely say that’s one of my preferred ways you’ve made use of your tongue.”

He raised his eyebrow and her cheeks flushed pink furiously.

“Oh my god, no! I didn’t mean— not that!”

He raised his other eyebrow and, after quickly searching his eyes, she raised hers.

“Wow, okay so maybe that, if you’re—”

He chuckled, and kissed her shoulder before climbing to his feet. “I’m going to go and get your bag.”

“Or—” she grabbed his hand to stop him “— how about we both go back to the TARDIS and pick up where we left off?”

He snorted. “No chance am I missing your drunken Steps performance.”

“Not even for a good shag?”

He stilled to hear her say it, and only then did it occur to him that that was where this was heading. It was sobering, but he couldn’t say in any way it was repellent — not at all — only completely unbelievable.

“Oh god—” she slapped her hands to her face “—you didn’t— that’s not what.. what you— oh my god you didn’t say that’s what you wanted—”

“Rose,” he stressed, although gently, pulling her hand away as he crouched down in front of her. He tried to look at her, peering up from underneath her, but she wouldn’t look back at him. “I don’t think we’d be fooling anybody if I said I didn’t want that, too.”

She nodded firmly, still unable to look him in the eye. He rubbed his thumb over her fingers as they rested firmly in his, still a little nervous was she while he was completely certain.

“But it’s not all I want.”

“Yeah?” she said as she chewed her bottom lip. He nodded, and she paused for a moment, hesitant, before she spoke. “But…”

And then it was lost on her, either the rest of that sentence or her confidence to say it. Her fingers began to fidget in his, and he loosened his hold but not entirely, simply only allowing her the freedom to dwell without letting her drift entirely.

“But what?” he probed.

She looked even further down now, her chin tucked to her chest. “Wither and die, and all that.”

Ah yes, he grimaced. That.

The truth was, of course that’s all he could think about. And he regretted saying that to her every day since he had, because it shouldn’t have been her problem and yet he had made it her problem. By only showing her how much it anguished him, she had taken it upon herself to fix it for him, only to realise that she couldn’t. Nobody could, and for that, she couldn’t simply rest and allow herself to be happy while he only awaited misery. He wondered, then, if that was why she was so hesitant — not because she didn’t want this with all her heart, but because he had given her reason to believe he was petrified for his own survival, for a future of solitude without her but it was specifically that last part that tortured him now.

Without her. How could she possibly begin to resolve her heartache when she worried tirelessly over something she couldn’t control? He had to unburden her, assure her that he wasn’t scared for him, when truthfully he felt sick by his awaited grief. So for that, he bent his head to kiss her knee, and swore to inherit all her anxieties himself and free her of them.

“I know you’re a whole twenty-one-years-old now, but I don’t see you withering anytime soon.”

She didn’t laugh, but he still smiled reassuringly, intent on fulfilling his promise.

“But I will, one day,” she countered, and he fought back a sigh. 

“Are you always this miserable on your birthday?”

“Doctor!” she pleaded, but she was beginning to smile despite herself. “This is serious!”

The worst part was that he had had this exact argument with himself, time and time again, only he was normally on her side himself. But it had all changed when he had heard her tell him she wanted him; up until then, those arguments with himself were a response to the very hypothetical situation she might want him, but now that she actually did, he found himself quite unable to see her side now.

“Alright, alright,” he held up his hands in defeat. “You’re right.”

She didn’t exactly bask in it, but he knew he wasn’t about to give up anytime soon. So he perched himself down next to her, the picnic bench groaning as he settled his weight. A silence extended between them and he watched as Rose played with her ring, fiddling about with it in the interlude as she tried to find her words. But as the silence passed and she remained quiet, he realised perhaps she had nothing to say unprompted, so he asked a question he was sure he never would in the hope that she might finally release herself.

“What do you want?” he whispered.

She hesitated even still, before her breath carried her answer in a sigh. “You.”

He could have her say it over and over again and never tire of it; perhaps that serenely restful truth caused the words to tumble from his lips so desperately. “You have me. Christ knows why you want me out of anyone else in the whole bloody universe, but whatever you want is yours.”

Perhaps it was the slight inflection on just the right word, or perhaps it was all of them together, but he felt her somewhat loosen beside him. Determined though he was, he was misplaced to hear himself say it, something he only ever imagined might terrify her now only somehow consoling her.

“This is… mad,” she shuddered with a smile. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?”

“I can take an educated guess.”

“And you really want this too?”

He shrugged. “Probably— I don’t know, haven’t really thought it through.”

She whacked his arm with a chuckle she couldn’t quite suppress. “Oh my god—“

“Rose,” he whispered, urged perhaps, and she all but stilled completely to hear him say her name in such a way. He turned to look at her but she had closed her eyes, so he took her hand, small and fragile and soft as it was, and started to settle the ache in his fingers by running them across her skin. So warm, even if she didn’t think so in the cool April chill, and the softness against his, coarse and tired, was sublime.

“Why me?”

“Why you, what?”

“You said I could have anyone in the whole universe, well what about you? You’re a Time Lord,” she breathed the name of his race with such wonderment while he only regretted it, but he kept still. “And you’re the last one! You have literally all of time and space to choose from, why would you choose somebody with such a short life span— somebody who you can’t exactly share the rest of your life with or even a substantial part of it. Sixty years, that’s all I have! That’s all we’ll have!”

“This is a bit like talking about breaking up before you’ve even gotten together,” he pointed out, and she grinned again despite herself at that, and it only seemed to frustrate her that he joked when she searched for an answer much more reassuring. But the fact was, it would seem she had thought about this, and perhaps had even used it to convince herself he didn’t want her in return, which was utterly absurd to him. Joking with her wasn’t seeming to do the trick, lightening the mood in the hopes of lightening her worry was proving to serve no end to her own perceived stalemate, and she wasn’t just taking him at his word and allowing herself this.

So he bent his head to kiss the ball of her shoulder and he lingered there, breathing her in, unable to stop himself from kissing the same spot again. He needed saving from this, he realised, because kissing her seemed entirely unpreventable since he had allowed himself to only minutes ago, and right now she needed his reassurance.

“I’ve seen it all, Rose. Nine hundred years of travelling, I’ve met some spectacular people. But you have something on me that I can’t describe, and I know for a fact it’s irreversibly binding. I know, because I feel it in the way you smile, the sound of your laugh, I know I don’t stand a chance when you say my name as you giggle and I’m a complete lost cause when you touch me in any way. What I’m trying to say is I’ve met so many people in this universe, from so many corners of it across so many ages and none of them have ever given me something so completely tangible to hold on to.” He frowned, realising how he must sound completely bonkers, and he wasn’t exactly the greatest romantic of his time, but he really was limited by his words in describing what she was to him, so he settled instead on one final, simple sentiment. “You’re everything.”

He sniffed, because it sounded so terribly feeble and uninspired, and pulled away. She had been watching him as he spoke his mind, perhaps thinking he was an absolute nutter, but her palm touched his cheek and she leant forwards, brushing her lips to his and only holding on to time, savouring each passing second in this point in time and he felt how overwhelming it was, even to him. All the seconds passed, all the ones following it were immeasurable, literally, and for only a few of them, just one or two, they kissed. When she pulled away, he found himself wondering how he could possibly not chase more of those seconds.

“And don’t even get me started on that,” he breathed, and she giggled delightfully.

“You know, when you told me you were coming tonight, I thought maybe I might be lucky enough to hear you tell me I look beautiful—“

“Which I still haven’t done,” he chastised.

“— I never imagined any of this might happen, not for a second.”

“You didn’t?” he retaliated. “I was spending my day hoping that I could just survive it — and I have to say, there was a moment when your mother was telling me about Bev’s one night stand where I really, honestly, thought I might not.”

“And yet, you stayed,” she grinned, somewhat smugly and a little sweetly. “And you hate domestics!”

“I could get used to them,” he shrugged, and she only looked back at him in surprise. “Well, okay, I could learn how to tolerate them.”

“For me?” she said, still a little in disbelief.

“I told you, anything in the universe, time and space, all of it, is yours,” he assured. “If that includes family gatherings and ‘life admin’ days, then so be it.”

“Christmas dinner?”

“I’m there.”

“Even Mum’s fiftieth birthday bash?”

“Even that.”

“Christenings, baby showers, all that stuff, too?”

“If Charlie pops out any more kids, you bet I’ll be meeting them all.”

Rose scoffed, “Who are you and what have you done to the Doctor!”

“S’what you’ve done to me,” he corrected.

“It’s what domestics have done to you.”

“No, no, it’s definitely you.”

The sound of these giggles in particular, the ones where she was endearingly timid as he all but worshiped her, were entrancing; a new world he had yet to explore lay in their sound and he was a traveller, after all. It was far too tempting, she was far too tempting, and her darkened eyes as she looked at him here and now held a map to a path unknown, a whole universe in itself and he was ready to be lost in this one.

Her eyes flickered to his lips and she licked hers almost straight after, before she met his gaze once more and they were somehow even darker now. He found himself falling before he had even let go; their noses touched and her hand on his thigh sparked, and this was ridiculous, it was completely without sense that it all should feel like this. How many times had he fallen in love, how many moments had passed like this one and yet none of them were like this one, nobody looked as she looked at him, nobody’s touch was as devilishly hypnotic and never before had his hearts drummed so mercilessly for a moment in time to pass and yet remain—

“Rose!”

They both tore away to the sound of her name being called from the door, and all at once it came back: the sounds of merriment inside, the rustle of the leaves above them, the very harsh reminder that they weren’t alone.

“We’ve been looking all over for you, your mum wants to do a speech.”

“Oh, god,” Rose groaned as Shareen trudged over to them. But her steps slowed as she got closer, until she stopped completely just before them, her mouth open as she realised what she had interrupted.

He wished, with everything he had really, to be anywhere else but here.

“Oh my god, are you two—“ she gasped, narrowing her eyes at them before she pointed at their necks. “What! is that a— have you two got hickeys?”

Rose fidgeted excessively, pulling her dress down as much as she could before slapping her hand to her neck. “Shareen— please can you go get my bag?”

She scoffed indignantly and folded her arms. “Concealer ain’t gonna cover that up— what did you do to her!” she teased at the Doctor, and he only hung his head low and desperately willed for this to be over.

“Shareen,” Rose groaned. “Please, c’mon— I got two bloody weeks of detention covering for you when it was both of us skipping science to snog our boyfriends!”

The Doctor scratched his neck and shuddered to realise he was now in a situation akin to snogging his high school girlfriend when he should be in science class. He’d always wanted the human experience but this was not so high up on his list.

“As your mate, it’s my duty to have you completely mortified on your twenty-first — but—“ she insisted, when Rose began to protest “— as your best mate, I’m going to do you this favour and help you cover up the fact that you were out here neckin’ with a bloke none of us have really met before.”

The Doctor leapt to his feet, finally deciding to remove himself from this dreadful situation, but Shareen put her hand on his chest to stop him instead.

“Nope— you stay here, you look even worse than she does,” she smirked, before turning back to Rose with a wicked grin. “Give me two mins, but if your mum finds you in the meantime then I can’t help you.”

“Nobody could,” the Doctor muttered, mostly to himself, but Shareen caught it and giggled in agreement, before she turned to head back into the pub.

“I take it back,” he insisted as Rose got to her feet, too. “None of it, you can have none of it.”

“Nope,” she grinned. She took his tie in her hand and began to fiddle with it, but the look in her eye told him she was doing this deliberately, the little minx, and, worse yet, she knew exactly what it was doing to him. But she released him from it, this torture of being in a very public place when he so very much wished that they weren’t, and stood on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down for a chaste kiss, smiling into his lips as she whispered, “No taking it back now, Time Lord.”

And it was worth it, he thought, to see a smile he hadn’t seen before. Well, that and the way she had called him “Time Lord” in a way that sent shivers down his spine. But her smile now was one where she was so completely happy and at ease, and he was quite happy indeed to bear the weight of her concerns if it meant she could enjoy her time alive.

He supposed, then, for her twenty-first birthday, he might have given her time itself.

#ten x rose #tenth doctor #rose tyler #dw fic #loup.fic #doctor who #ficandchips #oh god these two

[hobidreams]

october 1865.

you never thought you would smile like this again, but here you are. and here he is, by your side.

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: fluffy fluff words: 5k 😳 contains: historical au, chuseok date!, eunuch kim!, so much cuteness, guest appearances hehe

moonlit throne index. this is drabble 13. start from the beginning?

“How do I look, mom?”

Standing before the mirror, you nervously smooth the delicate sash of the pink hanbok for the hundredth time, careful not to lean down too much and dislocate the floral ornament carefully pinned in your hair. There have been doves fluttering in your stomach the entire afternoon; you don’t know if you tied this correctly or if your hair is braided right, and you can’t ask any of your nearby neighbours for fear of discovery that your plans are different than theirs tonight. Mother would know exactly what to do and what to say to make you feel at ease. But want you want most is for her to see you all grown up like this. Finally able to properly wear the outfit you coveted for so long, and hold your head high in it too. You think she’d be proud.

You manage a smile as you run your fingertips along the edge of the ornament, a gift from mother on your twelfth birthday. It’s almost been a year since her passing, and you still miss her more than anything. But you also know now that the best way to honor her is to be happy, and to carry on her work, her legacy. So far, you’ve begrudgingly won a few scraps of respect from the male physicians, and it’s a start.

“I hope you’re doing well up there,” you say, letting your gaze drift out the window to the beaming Chuseok moon, hoping the wind might take your words and your love all the way to her.

“Hey. Are you ready?”

You are grateful that the door is closed because the way you snap to attention is frankly embarrassing.

"Yes, just a moment, seja-jeonha!" you say in a nervous half-whisper, half-exclamation as you allow yourself one last glimpse at the mirror. This is going to be fine. You're going to be relaxed and have a good time, even if you are sneaking out of the palace with arguably the second most important person in the country.

Putting on a smile that hopefully looks effortless, you pull open the door and practically gasp out loud at the sight of him.

It's perhaps the first time you've seen the prince out of the traditional royal robes. It's an excellent disguise -- the clothes of a young yangban lord, done in a deep-dyed scarlet that contrasts his usual navy. A cinched belt fastens the coat deftly, juxtaposed against the dragging, silky sleeves beside it, making him seem somehow more elegant in the way he holds himself. Completing the look is the gat that sits atop his head, its wide-brim tilted low so it covers enough of his face that he wouldn't be recognized, at least not to anyone who spared him a passing glance (not that they would know his face to begin with). The gat strap hangs low in front of his chest, the intricate beading betraying just how truly expensive this hat is. He is, in short, unfairly, unfathomably handsome.

You are forever grateful that you chose to dress up; if nothing else, at least you will look suitable standing next to him, at least for a night.

If Yoongi thinks anything of your outfit, he covers it with a slight cough, his cheeks faintly reddened from the cold. “Good. Come on. We have to be quick.”

You nod, following him out into the night air.

With swift steps and strategic maneuvering, it doesn't take you long to reach one side of the imposing wall that separates palace from town. There, you find a familiar face waiting for you.

"Good evening," Eunuch Kim says with a bow. He’s wearing a different, muted set of green robes and donned a gat as well. “As you instructed, the select guards have been informed to keep quiet, and all else has been taken care of. Let us go."

He likely insisted on coming, as one of the caveats for your illicit excursion. You don't mind, since this isn't the first time he's had to do such a thing, always so worried about his rebellious, stubborn charge. You watch as he lets Yoongi go past first, then gestures for you.

“You look lovely tonight, uinyeo-nim,” Eunuch Kim says, and you share a small, furtive smile that feels like he’s cheering you on. Then you step past the official gates, feeling so acutely the pattering of your pulse because this is truly happening.

For the first handful of minutes, you remain both terrified and anticipatory that you'll be snatched back by the royal guard and accused of kidnapping the prince or something equally ridiculous as being on an actual outing with him. Beside you, Yoongi doesn't seem to have these worries as he walks by your side (though still a respectful, proper distance apart), letting his arms slightly swing while he kicks up dust with his slippers.

Just as you're wondering if you're being an awful companion and not making conversation, he says, "haven't been outside the palace in ages."

“Me too. It's… a little strange, having all this freedom to roam and do what I want. Even if it’s just for a night.”

“I'll say.” Yoongi makes an exasperated noise. “There are too many rules in that place. Can't do anything without being watched.” He gives a minor tilt of his head towards your chaperone, though it's more a tease rather than actually spiteful. Eunuch Kim, for his own sake, pretends not to see or hear the jab.

You smile. “It's for your safety, seja-jeonha.”

“So they say. But they'll regret it when I die of boredom first.”

He rolls his eyes and you laugh, and the palpitations in your stomach ease just like that.

As you draw ever closer to the town, the harmony of string and wind instruments crescendo and build with the jubilant chatter of the townspeople. It's getting to you in the best of ways; you're becoming so elated at the prospect of the festivities that you start to speed up, soon practically rushing towards the town square at a pace that forces Yoongi and Eunuch Kim to run to follow.

"…Wow!"

At the base of the square, your entire face brightens with the wondrous sight unfolding before you. There are people everywhere. Some down celebratory alcohol, others munch on sweet treats, and more still singing along to the traditional folk tunes with robust vibrato, regardless of whether they’re on key or not. You can’t find a single frown amidst all this mirth, and that’s just the way you like it. It’s overwhelming: the sights, the sounds, and the mouthwatering smell of something delicious and fried.

Yoongi eventually jogs up to you, forced to inhale a few quick breaths to refill his lungs. “Are you that hungry?” He asks, the corner of his lips curling up.

Oh god, you just made the prince run.

"No...! Not at all! I’m deeply sorry, seja-jeonha. I got too excited, didn’t I?”

“Not at all. Shall we get something to eat first then?”

You avert your eyes, though you really haven’t had dinner tonight. “No, please. Let us do what you would like.”

Yoongi grins as if it is of no consequence. “What I want? Well, then, I want to go this way.”

As is his habit, he begins to walk in the direction he chooses without notice, though this time he has to weave through the people that crowd the area. His disguise is working well; he is largely ignored as he passes, leading your little group all the way to an open alleyway where stalls line each side, lit up with lamps and vividly colored banners.

A twinge of sadness squeezes your heart as you look at the spread. You faintly remember a decade ago that there used to be a full row of assorted delicacies and sweets for purchase; now it’s mostly merchants with tables of books and hairpins, food becoming too scarce for most to sell with the grain shortage, even if they need the funds. Still, everyone seems to be doing their best with what they’ve got.

Sudden shouts ring out right beside you, nearly blowing your ears out with how loud they are.

“Jeon! Freshly fried shrimp and fish jeon for sale!”

“Hot, hot, hot nokdujeon over here!”

“Gaah!” you exclaim, eyes wide. You wouldn’t be surprised if the monks up the mountain heard about this jeon! When you turn to see who the hell is making all this commotion, you’re met with the scowling faces of two men, glaring furiously at each other in-between tending to their sizzling pans in adjacent stalls. The bearded one looks about seconds away from giving the other younger man a good smack with the fishing rod leaning on the wall behind him.

Said younger man gives a snicker. “No wonder my sales are beating yours. Why would anyone want your shrimp when they could have my delicious mung beans?”

“Say that again, if you dare.”

“Why would anyone want your gross shrimp when—”

“Yah, you can take your beans and shove them right up your nasty sokgot—”

“Excuse me,” Yoongi cuts in between them with a smirk. “I’ll take two orders of each. Preferably not ones shoved anywhere.” He drops coins on both counters, more than enough to cover the food.

“Ahem.” They levy two very similar glares at each other before beginning to package the orders for consumption, switching to polite honorifics in the process. “Yes, sir!”

“Right away, sir!”

They work deftly, obviously very practiced in the art. Neither of them drop so much as a crumb, even though they seem to be racing.

"My lord, here is your order," Fish Jeon says, only to be roughly shoved aside by Mung Bean in a rush to hand over the goods first.

"Please enjoy, sir!"

Yoongi takes the round and crispy nokdujeon, all wrapped in parchment paper. His amused chuckling makes you feel a little warmer, a bit fonder than you should. Especially when he then promptly passes the package to you.

"Seja--" You cut yourself off before you make the mistake. "Um. My lord, this is for me?" You ask, even though you're practically drooling at the scent.

"Did I give it to someone else? Eat."

He turns, hands off one of the assorted jeon plates to Eunuch Kim behind him, who accepts gratefully with a bow.

You, and your stomach, don’t need to be told twice. After blowing on the golden batter, you take a generous bite, accidentally smearing a bit of it on your cheek in the process but god, it tastes incredible. Mung Bean may be loud, but he clearly doesn’t tell lies. You have to hold yourself back from inhaling the pancake whole, instead savoring each nibble on your tongue.

“Come on. Keep going before the crowd grows,” Yoongi says, urging you forward with a jerk of his chin before biting into his own pancake. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile this much before, and it’s with slight regret that you tear your eyes away to look where you’re going.

From behind you as you start to walk, you hear, "Jungkook, you brat, shouldn't you be more respectful to your elders?!"

"Whatever, hyungnim. Nokdujeon! Better-than-his-fish nokdujeon!"

There is a very distinctive thwap as you move into the merchant area.

The first booth you come to belongs to a woman that you recognize, selling the latest romance novel by a rising author, Taehyun. She recognizes you too, waving you over with enthusiasm. “Oh, hello! We just received this last week. A tale of forbidden love between a yangban lady and a fisherman! Full of tension and…” she lowers her voice conspiratorially, “more than a few kisses!”

“Do people actually read things like this?” Yoongi mutters, staring at the covers.

“Huh? No! Well, hah, I certainly don’t!” You hope your face looks plausibly innocent. “But thank you,” you turn to say to the woman before hurriedly walking on before she can expose your ruse. The prince doesn’t need to know about the precious books you keep in a secret stash in your room. A lady can’t only study all day, right?

(You make a mental note to come back to town and pick up a copy later.)

Down the row you go, reluctantly finishing off the pancake on the way. Yoongi hands you the entire second plate of jeon not long after. “I don’t want it,” he says, watching you brighten at the prospect of more food. He does end up stealing a piece of shrimp from within your grasp later, throwing it casually into his mouth before you can even react.

The next display to really catch your attention is one laden with delicately handcrafted ornaments, pins, bracelets, and perfumes. “Wow!” You gush, leaning over the table as you try to calculate how much money you brought with you because you want it all, even though you rarely have the occasion to dress up. Still, you want at least something as a keepsake, to hold your memories of this precious day. Yoongi stops and waits for you; you forget it should be the other way around.

“Oh my, Eun-a-ssi? Is that you?”

What? You look up, breath hitched.

“Oh, my apologies.” The woman behind the booth is elderly, her hair grey, eyes wrinkling warmly as she smiles. “My mistake. My eyesight isn’t what it was. You… look a lot like a woman I know. I haven’t seen her in a long time now.”

“Eun-a… Eun-a was my mother,” you murmur. “She passed away last year.”

The woman’s eyes widen as she clutches her hands to her chest. “She did? Oh… Oh no… I’m so sorry, child. Then you must be—” She thinks for a moment, then says your name. You nod, and a small smile slips back on her lips, though now tinged with sadness. You know the feeling. “My name is Hong Sook-ja. I used to live right here in town with Eun-a-ssi, until all those years ago when she moved into the palace and I moved to the countryside. Your mother used to bring you into town for Chuseok and we got to know each other then. These days, I just come back every once in a while to see my granddaughter and great-grandson, so I must have missed the news.”

“It’s alright, Sook-ja-ssi. Mom lived well,” you say, ignoring the twinge in your chest. Any glimpse into mother’s life before she had you fills you with a certain homesickness, alongside the joy. “She was happy. And I’m sure she’d be happy to know that you are living well too.”

“Good. Good. She deserved happiness.” Sook-ja sighs, letting the information sink in. Only after one last kind smile does she finally seem to notice Yoongi standing beside you, trying his best not to intrude. “Now, is this handsome lord your companion? Perhaps your betrothed?”

“N-No!” You immediately cry, not wanting Yoongi to misunderstand, to think that his rank could be dragged so low as to match yours. Sook-ja should know that these class lines, even between yangban and cheonmin, are not so easily crossed. But the mischief in her gaze seems to suggest she doesn’t care much about that. “No, we’re just out. Together.”

“Yes. Out. Together,” Yoongi echoes, just as the door behind Sook-ja starts to open with a noisy creak.

A young woman dressed in a pretty hanbok steps out of the house with a smile. “Grandma, are you interrogating the customers again… Oh, hey! Kim-nim!”

All three of you turn your heads to look at Eunuch Kim, who couldn’t look more surprised at the woman’s appearance if Yoongi started growing a tail. He flusters, stepping back as if that could protect him. “Ahh, Chun-ja-ssi…! You’re, um, here! And you look, wow—” He almost drops the last piece of jeon altogether. “I was not expecting you to be here— I mean, not that I was thinking of you being elsewhere— Uh, not that I think about you that often—”

“This is my granddaughter,” Sook-ja explains, saving the poor man. “Chun-ja. She and her son, Han-jae, are the best parts of my life. She’s so clever, she can even read and write, you know!”

Chun-ja flushes under the praise. “My grandmother likes to exaggerate. But it’s very nice to meet you both,” she says, bowing in greeting as Sook-ja excuses herself, exiting through the same door.

Yoongi is once again smirking. “So, how do you know Kim-nim?”

“Mm, it was about two years ago? I was helping one of the merchants bring grain into the palace. Kim-nim saw me struggling with a particularly heavy pot, and so he helped me carry it. Since then, we chat for a bit every time he’s in town on an errand, and exchange the occasional letter! When he remembers to write me back, that is. Though his letters are often so lovely that I don’t mind the wait.” Chun-ja offers Eunuch Kim a grin that he can’t quite return with ease.

Yoongi has to work hard to keep his face relatively straight as he says, “hmm. So that is why he’s always disappearing from the palace with those weak excuses? And using all that ink? He always said it was for something important.”

“Seja— My lord! Please!” Spare me, Eunuch Kim’s wilted expression pleads. You have to hide your amusement behind a hand, lest you burst out with inappropriate laughter.

Once again, Sook-ja comes to the rescue as she shuffles out of the house, holding two familiar objects that make your eyes light up. “You’re both in luck. I knew we had a few extra this year, even after that rascal great-grandson of mine ruined a few with his roughhousing. He’d still be causing trouble if he weren’t off with his friends right now.” Sook-ja sighs. “I wish my grandson were still around to scold him. But anyway, I’d be happy if you’d take them!”

“Wish lanterns!” You exclaim, taking the lightly orange cloth contraption with glee. “Oh, I haven’t seen these up close in years.” The palace celebrations don’t usually include them, leaving you to try and catch the sight of the tiny, almost imperceptible lights floating into the sky from so far away. You’ve always loved the thought of the lamps surging towards that boundless sky, endlessly drifting, free to follow the wind.

“Do you know how to start it?” Chun-ja asks. You shake your head. “Let me show you.”

As Chun-ja explains the mechanisms behind the lantern to you, Yoongi reaches for his coin pouch. “We must give you something in exchange.” Yoongi produces several mun coins that are at least five times the lanterns’ actual worth, and tries to give them to her.

Sook-ja pushes his hand away. “No, no, it’s a present!”

“I insist.” Yoongi tries again, only to be rejected, again. He wonders if she would be so obstinate if she knew who he really was. (Probably yes.) “Alright… What if I take another item from the table to make it a fair trade?”

“Stubborn, aren’t you?” Sook-ja bursts into laughter, her belly shaking beneath her skirt. “Fine. Take your pick!”

Yoongi barely scans the accessories; he snatches up the bracelet you were looking at before and tucks it into his jeogori with a secret smile. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Sook-ja says warmly, before her smile dips down conspiratorially. “It’ll look good on her. Anyway, have fun! Enjoy the night.”

“I’m sure we will.” Yoongi shifts his attention to you. “All done? Then let’s keep going.”

“Yes, my lord,” you say, happily clutching the lanterns. “Thank you so much, Sook-ja-ssi. Chun-ja-ssi.”

Chun-ja beams. “Our pleasure. I hope we see each other in town again soon. And Kim-nim, don’t forget your letters!”

“Yes, of course, I will. I mean, I won’t. Forget, that is. Uh, I’ll write. G-Goodbye.” Eunuch Kim bows twice in quick succession before hurrying after you two, trying his best not to look back for one last glimpse of what he’s left behind.

You continue your wandering through the rest of the festival, marveling at the sheer strength of the wrestlers and then the elegance of the dancers. Absently, you wish this atmosphere could stay in place forever, and that everything else could just vanish into the smoke and ash of the burning campfires, but you know too well that life is a balance. And right now, with the prince’s silky sleeve pressed almost right against yours as you walk past a chorus of singers, the scales have temporarily tipped in your favor.

Eventually, all your wandering takes you to almost the outskirts of town, to an area you visited before with your mother. It takes some squinting but you eventually recognize the obscure path among the bushes, and immediately gesture towards it. The prince has shown you so much tonight; you want to return the favor, especially since his steps are beginning to slow. “This way! Please come with me.”

“Are you sure this is safe?” Eunuch Kim calls. “We cannot let anything happen to our lord!”

You start down the road. “Completely!”

It’s been so long since you last took these steps, but it all comes back to you effortlessly as you take the lead. It takes a few minutes, just a few, to reach the clearing you seek. And it is exactly as you remember it — the nature growing with a wild, greedy virility, the oddly shaped rocks studded in the dirt, and the reflecting pond, its water rippling from the drag of the autumn wind across its surface. There is no one here, which is exactly how you expected it to be.

“Here it is, seja-jeonha.”

“It’s quiet,” he marvels, and steps further in. He stops at the edge of the pond, staring not down but out, at the reflection of the full moon in its depths.

“I thought that you could use a change of environment. You look a little tired.” At this point, you know him well enough to tell that the neutrality of his expression shows subtle signs of weariness.

“The noise. It can be overwhelming at times. I’m not used to so much of it, usually. But I like the songs.”

You nod. “I understand perfectly! That’s why mom took me here in the first place. It used to be her secret spot when she was growing up.”

His arms shift, sleeves brushing the sides of his jacket. “She was a kind woman.”

“Very much so.”

You feel the breeze swiftly pick up, weaving through the strands of hair that have come loose from your up-do. The curling leaves around you rustle with welcome relief, bathing in the atmosphere, the rare tranquility of such a beautiful evening.

“Shall we float the lanterns?” You suggest after a spell.

“Sure.” Yoongi indicates for Eunuch Kim to bring the lanterns over. “Matches?”

Eunuch Kim fumbles in his robes for a few seconds before he realizes with a start that they’re just not there. “My apologies!” He bows. “I must have left the matches back at the booth!”

Yoongi sighs. “Too distracted by Chun-ja-ssi, hm?” Eunuch Kim flushes. “Go get them then.”

“But to leave you alone—”

“I’m not alone.”

Eunuch Kim looks between the prince and you a few times in rapid succession, his thoughts evidently as wavering as his eyes. He finally lands back on the prince.

“…Understood. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

You both watch him go, the quick pace of his steps no doubt brought on by anticipation.

“I can’t believe he’s been involved with a woman without any of us knowing,” Yoongi says, his tone betraying his real fondness.

“It’s sweet.” You smile, wondering if Eunuch Kim will ever manage to stop the stuttering long enough to actually tell Chun-ja how much he appears to like her. He is a mature man with most aspects, but apparently you’ve happened upon his one sole weakness. “But… He’ll probably be gone for a while. We won’t be able to light the lanterns.”

“I thought as much when I told him to go.”

“Well, it’s nice to take a break.” You don’t mention that you’d probably go anywhere and do anything, even if it’s just sitting around waiting, if it was with him. Instead, you look down at the pond, the water stilling enough for there to be a slightly blurry reflection of yourself awaiting below. “Hm. The water’s gotten a bit murkier these years. It used to be clear enough to see perfectly in. But it’s not so bad! Come look!”

Yoongi does. His pale face, all dark eyes and that rough, obvious scar, appears beside yours.

You fully intended on saying something else but that thought falls clear out of your mind when you realize just how undone your hair has become in all the bustle of the celebrations. I look like a mess, you think in a panic, hurriedly feeling for the strands to tuck them back. You’ve only managed to get one side fixed when a rock comes flying out of nowhere, plunging into the water with a noisy thunk! It disturbs both your reflections and wrecks the temporary mirror as cold droplets splash back.

“Hey!” You cry, leaping back from the pond to Yoongi’s grin. “What was that for?”

He has the audacity to look innocent. “Nothing. Haven’t you ever skipped rocks?”

“That was more a throw than a skip,” you grumble, checking your skirt as you hope it didn’t take too much damage. Thankfully, only a few drops actually landed on the precious fabric. “But yes, I love skipping rocks. Properly.”

“Here then.” You open your palm at Yoongi’s behest and he drops a stone into it. “Show me how to do it properly.”

You accept the challenge and plant one foot behind you, staring down a point in the middle of the pond, angling your arm as you position the stone in your hand. You most definitely look the part of an expert as you let the thing go. It shoots towards the water at a rapid speed, whooshing right through the air like a tiny bullet as it hits the surface at the angle and then proceeds to instantly sink to the bottom like, well, a rock.

Yoongi’s raucous laugh is no less than a roar, his entire body wracked with the exertion as he practically doubles over. He only gets louder when he sees the embarrassment on your face, the absolute mortification.

“I never said I was good at it…” You mutter, deciding to try a second time. This rock plummets right down to the watery floor too, refusing to save you even a little bit of face.

Yoongi’s settled into an infuriatingly smug look. “So, you can’t actually skip a stone. But you still love doing it?”

“That’s right.”

“Why?” He effortlessly makes a single skip before his pebble capsizes.

“I have a theory.” His curiosity piques at that; a turn of his head. “That it’s not up to us if the rock skips or not. Even if we have all the technique in the world,” you pick up another stone, “if the wind just happens to blow a bit harder, or if a fish from beneath disturbs the rhythm, or even if the tides themselves decide to surge up… It’ll fail. Or only skip the once. But—” You clutch the rock tightly in your hand and feel the weight, the cold, steady shape. “But if we wish hard enough. If we just keep trying every time we have the opportunity again and again…” This time, your rock is truly flying as it smacks the rippling water and skips a miraculous four times before finally dropping into the deep. “The universe might just make it happen.”

“…Or you need more practice.”

You shrug. “I’d rather believe that there are some things in the world simply out of our control. But that we can still hope for those things to shift, to change for the better if we never give up.”

Yoongi falls silent, staring at the ground through his downcast, delicate eyelashes. Maybe you said too much, you think. You didn’t mean to ramble. It’s just something you’ve thought about often. For these past months, it’s been the only thing keeping you going on the hardest, loneliest days. But you’ve made it. You’re still here. And by some miracle, he’s right here with you.

(You think maybe this is happiness.)

“I like that.” His eyes flick up to meet yours with an intensity that says he’s listening. He’s contemplating your thoughts and taking you seriously. He rubs the back of his neck, scratching at an invisible mark. “It’s a good theory. I… I understand it.”

There’s a weight to those words that you feel in the pit of your heart. A pull that draws you to him like the reckless tides towards his moon – a gravitational longing to know what truth vibrates beneath. You wonder if he feels it too.

“Seja-jeonha, I’ve returned!”

Eunuch Kim comes rushing back into the clearing, wielding the packet of matches. You both turn to him, letting the moment be whisked away with the wind whipping past the emerald robes, though you keep it safe in your memories. The eunuch has brought ink and brushes too, for you to write your wishes on the fabric itself. Increases the chance of their coming true, or so the legend goes.

After a few swishes of the brush, it doesn’t take long to light the fires. Your darkly inked characters are lit up by the flame, flickering staunchly beneath the opening as you each clutch a lantern in your hands and look at each other.

“What are you wishing for?” Yoongi asks.

“For more jeon,” is your reply, followed by an easy laugh that he echoes.

Then you let the lantern go as he does — two firebirds soaring side by side into the twinkling night.

a/n: *cue Can You Feel the Love Tonight playing softly in the background even though it hasn’t been invented yet*. hope you’re all enjoying sweet Yoon 🥺

#ficswithluv #bts fluff #bts imagines #yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #min yoongi #historical au #rain writes #moonlit throne #... this is still a drabble series i swear haha #can you spot the members? 🤭

[august-anon]

Professor Feathersword

Hey hey y’all, the long await sequel that was supposed to be done and come out like the week after the first one, and we’re here like 2-3 months later lol. Sorry about that! Hope y’all enjoy this one!

Sequel to Prince Feathersword

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ship(s): Romantic Logince

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Roman/Ler!Logan

Word Count: 2107 words

Summary:  Roman didn't expect revenge, but he wasn't necessarily complaining.

[ao3 link]

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

Roman looked on nervously as Logan slowly waved the feather sword teasingly above his head. He wouldn’t lie and say he hadn’t hoped for this outcome from someone, eventually, but now that it was here he couldn’t help the butterflies that fluttered around inside his stomach and chest. Really, he’d dug his own grave with all the tickling he had been dishing out recently.

But that didn’t mean he was going down without a fight.

“Please,” Roman sassed, trying to keep the almost-giggly wobble out of his voice and only mostly succeeding. “There’s only one of us here worthy of the Feathersword name, and I think we both know it’s me. I’ve got the drama, the flair. Plus, the sword isn’t even in your colors!”

Logan raised an eyebrow, expression unimpressed. “Really?” He asked. “That’s your argument?”

“... Yes?” Roman squeaked.

Logan smirked slightly, waving the sword with a flourish. The colors Roman had chosen melted away, the largest feather shifting into a medium blue, the medium feather into a dark navy, and the smallest feather into a lighter blue. Roman gulped as Logan started waving it teasingly once more.

“Better?” Logan teased.

Roman couldn’t find the words to speak. He could feel himself blushing, the wobbly, anticipatory smile spreading over his face. He squirmed under Logan’s weight, biting his lip.

“How about you, Roman, do you recall all the words to that silly little song of yours?”

Roman gasped. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Logan full-on grinned, making Roman’s heart flutter for a brief moment (it wasn’t fair, he couldn’t be teasing and pretty at the same time!), “Oh, but I would. You prance around the mind palace with this evilly ticklish weapon, tormenting everyone in your path. So often you make them sing that song for you, giving no mercy until they complete the whole thing. Perhaps it is your turn, yes?”

“No!”

“Who’s the Professor with a feather for a sword?” Logan sang.

Roman was caught off guard. Logan didn’t sing. He would rap, sure, but he usually made a direct effort not to sing. And Roman wasn’t sure why because his first was beautiful.

But then Logan wiggled the feather sword against his ear and interrupted his thoughts with a squeal.

“You have to sing the next line,” Logan teased. “Or maybe you want to sing the song in its entirety on your own? Is that it?”

“No! Professor fits even worse than Prince!”

“Don’t make me make this worse for you, Roman.”

Roman managed to reach up and push the feather away despite Logan trying to bat his hands away. “Professors don’t even have swords! What kind of professor has a sword?”

Logan shrugged. “The kind of professor that needs to teach a cocky prince a lesson or two.”

Logan started tickling his neck and ears again to weaken him and gathered up his wrists to pin Roman’s down above his head much like Roman had done to him. Roman struggled as much as he could, but all the strength went out of him when he was being tickled. And now he truly realized his mistake of wearing a muscle shirt that day to “show off his killer biceps.” Logan’s access to his spots was far too open, now.

“Oh no!” Roman giggled.

“Come, sing for me, Roman. You haven’t seemed to be able to stop the past few weeks, what’s come upon you now? Here, I’ll start you off again. Who’s the Professor with a feather for a sword?”

Roman giggled and tried to jerk away from the feathers fluttering at his ear and jawline, but he knew there was no way he was getting out of this without getting tortured, and no way he was getting out of here without being forced to sing that flustering song.

“Ooh, it’s Professor Feathersword,” Roman tried to sing through his giggles, feeling his face start blushing even more having to be on the other side of the tease he’d been using for weeks.

“Who’s the Professor with a feather in his cap?” Logan sang next, waving the hand with the feather briefly to conjure an Oxford cap on his head, a few sharp, navy feathers dangling from the string as opposed to a tassel.

Roman squeaked and closed his eyes so that he didn’t have to see those feathers dangling so teasingly close above him. “No!!”

“Sorry, what was that?” Logan asked, and Roman felt him move down, felt the feathers on his cap brush across his cheeks -- he didn’t even know his cheeks were ticklish! “That didn’t sound like the lyrics to me.”

Roman ground his teeth, feeling giddy embarrassment bubble up in his chest. “Ooh, it’s Professor Feathersword!”

The worst part was when Logan started to move down. He stroked the feather down Roman’s collarbones and his eyes shot wide open again, watching in horror for them to flutter into his armpits. Except they never did. They hovered over them, but never touched down, and Roman gasped and wiggled. Logan winked at him and Roman groaned.

Roman knew what that meant. He had used that tactic himself far too much. Logan was going to save his worst spot for the grand finale and it was going to kill him.

Logan stuck the feather up his shirt and wiggled it down his ribcage. Then back up his ribcage. Then back down his ribcage. “He tickles you,” Logan sang with a smirk.

Roman was barely holding in squeals, laughing heartily and squirming as much as his position allowed. “He t-tic--” 

He cut himself off with a loud squeal as Logan focused on a horribly ticklish little spot at the bottom of his ribs, toward the back.

“My apologies,” Logan said calmly. “I couldn’t understand you through all those noises you’re making. Could you try singing that line again for me?”

Roman internally cursed Logan. This so wasn’t fair. Who gave him the right to torment him like this? And Roman was also suddenly much more sympathetic for how flustered Virgil and Patton got over the past couple weeks whenever he made them sing this song to their own torment. He could barely even get out the words “tickle” or “feather,” which just made his predicament much harder.

Logan made them sing the entire song together, keeping him there as long as he wanted until he was satisfied with Roman’s performance. Roman stuttered over flustering words, and Logan made him repeat the line. Logan would somehow finess the large feather well enough to target a series of mini-hot-spots all over his torso right when Roman was in the middle of a line, just to make him mess up so Logan could make him repeat it.

Spots like his bellybutton, right under it, the highest rib, that one spot on the middle back of his ribs, right against his waistline on his sides.

Roman was properly deceased.

Then, Logan took a trip to his feet, fluttering the feather down his legs on the way, and if Roman hadn’t been secretly waiting for this for weeks, he would’ve called mercy by now. The fluffy little fronds beneath and in between his toes could’ve killed him all on their own.

And Logan’s voice was unfairly teasing. The way he sung his half of the lyrics, with a little lilt to his words and a smug smirk that, if Roman had been standing, would’ve made his knees weak. The little, “Oh, I’m terribly sorry, my prince, could you repeat that for me?” or “I didn’t quite catch that, my dear.” or especially “I know you know the song, my darling Feathersword, have the words to it evaded you now, after all these weeks? Or perhaps you’re trying to draw out this torment longer, because you crave these lovely giggles.”

Needless to say, it takes them a rather long time to get through that blasted song. Roman wasn’t even sure he would be able to use it against his fellow sides anymore without getting blushy and squirmy himself. Logan sat smugly atop his hips, once again having pinned Roman’s arms high above his head, both wrists in one of Logan’s hands. He sucked in air greedily, and after a few moments a horrifying thought occurred to him.

Logan never touched his armpits.

Roman sucked in a shuddering gasp and his eyes flew open to watch that cursed feathersword. Logan, seeing Roman had finally realized what was in store for him, broke out in an evil grin. He didn’t say anything, just watched as Roman worked himself up into a frenzy, twitching and gasping and squeaking at any miniscule move the “weapon” made. The anticipation building in his belly and clearly upping his sensitivity also made him feel enough like jello that he couldn’t even hope to free his arms to protect from the coming torment.

Occasionally, while he held Roman in wait, Logan would hum a few bars of the chorus under his breath. It made Roman’s stomach do flips and opened him up to butterflies that drove him insane. He couldn’t help the giggles that built up in his chest and tried to escape, but he pressed his lips together to hold them in.

“Holding out on me, dear prince?” Logan purred. “That’s just not fair, is it? Maybe I should do something about that, hm?”

Before Roman could even gasp or yelp or beg for mercy, Logan darted the feather forward, faster than he can follow. Roman slammed his eyes shut and shrieked, toppling into frantic giggles. And then he realized that the top of the sword was just resting against his armpit, not moving or wiggling or deliberately tickling in any way. Roman tried to lock all his joints tight and resist the urge to squirm so that his own wiggling wouldn’t tickle him.

Logan grinned down at him. “I think I’ll stay here,” he taunted, wiggling the feathersword for a brief moment to send Roman into a brief stint of desperate laughter before holding it still again. “Until you admit how much you loved this. How much you wanted it. How does that sound, is that agreeable to you, Prince Giggles?”

“No! No it’s not!” Roman cried out through his hysterical giggles.

Logan cocked his head to the side with a smirk. “Hm. Too bad.”

And with that, Logan began the last act of his playful torture. He used Roman’s own weapon against him in the most devious of ways, swapping between armpits and driving him insane with hysterical cackling.

The touch was so soft, so gentle, so torturous. Roman didn’t even know he was this feather sensitive! It wasn’t fair how desperate a gentle touch could make him. But Roman was stubborn (and, yes, maybe he did love this and he did crave this, but he still had his pride), so he held out as long as he could manage.

But between Logan’s teasing (“Oh, still not ready to give in? That’s okay, I’m pretty comfortable, I could stay here for a while yet.” “Wow, Prince Ticklish, you really do love this, you don’t want me to stop so much that you won’t even say the magic words!”) and Roman’s limited lung capacity, he eventually had to give in.

So he swallows his pride and gives up. “I wanted it!” Roman screamed through his laughter. “I wanted it so bad, I love it so much! Please!”

Logan pulled the feathersword away with a chuckle and set it aside. He released Roman’s wrists and climbed off him, pulling Roman up into a sitting position. He helped Roman calm down with soothing touches, just as Roman had done for him: fingers carding through his hair, a hand rubbing soothingly into his back. Roman leaned into Logan and just let himself be held as he caught his breath (and he almost thought he felt lips press fondly into his hair, but he dismissed it as him being tired).

“Y’know,” Roman murmured, “Maybe everyone should have one.”

“One, what, my prince?”

Roman hummed as Logan hit a stubborn knot in his back and began rubbing at it with more intention. “A feathersword. Make it all fair game.”

Logan doesn’t reply, and Roman doesn’t say anything more. Logan simply invites him fully into the room and they fall into Logan’s bed and cuddle close together for a well-needed rest. And they may talk a little when they wake about their relationship before splitting ways for dinner and bedtime to let the feelings between them settle.

But all the sides may or may not wake up the next morning with a feathersword waiting for them in their rooms, in their own signature colors.

#My writing #tickle fic #tickle tools #tickle tool: feathers #sanders sides tickling #lee!roman #ler!logan #ticklish!roman #sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #logince

[cptnsantiago]

take me home

10/?

~ i would give it all, i would sacrifice

read on ao3

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SPOILERS FOR 7x04

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It was the final ride.

Maybe it was dramatic to be narrating in his head like it was some huge life altering finale to something, but surely he was allowed to be dramatic about getting a new car. It wasn’t just a new car either — they were getting a family car. A car, purposefully bought for their growing family.

It was in part three of Amy’s family planning binders (of which there were three thick binders). Part one and two of the first binder were pretty simple, finding a good OB, researching preschools and getting onto said preschool waiting lists. This part was probably the most expensive part of their list, apart from actually having a baby and paying for everything that baby needs for the first eighteen years of their life. 

Trading in his old, crappy car to get a new, shiny, and hopefully, cool family safe car was a big deal. This was all a big deal — they were making a baby. Jake wishes he could take the DeLorean for a spin just to let young Jake know to get ready for the wild ride he would be in for once he joined the ninety-ninth precinct. 

Are DeLorean’s kid friendly? Probably not.

A quick google search proves his hunch to be correct, but god, that would have been awesome. He wishes he could say he’ll miss this car, but trading it in for a car with actual windows that weren’t shower curtains (because he was still too lazy to get it fixed) will be nice. They had done far too much research into a good car for Jake to be upset about something new and fresh.

Jake briefly wonders what it’ll be like when their kid is born — Boyle hadn’t failed to tell him something great about having kids everyday since he found out they were trying — so now Jake knew all about how good newborn babies smelt. It was weird, but he definitely wanted to compare the new car smell with the newborn baby smell when he could.

He was really turning into Boyle with how excited he was about it all. Amy hadn’t pointed it out since that day in the elevator, but now he could really hear how cringy saying mischief managed was after sex.

Jake wasn’t going to miss the window that wouldn’t roll up properly, or the weird smell coming from his trunk no matter how many times he cleaned it. There were many memories connected to this beaten down car, mostly tied to Amy — but just like proposing to Amy, and deciding to start their family together — there was no doubt in his mind that it was time to give up this car. 

If he still had his mustang, it would be a whole different story. Not that Jake wouldn’t give anything up for Amy and their family in a heartbeat; if he still had the mustang today, the goodbye would be way more bittersweet. Jake already had his cry about it when he sold it so he could payback Terry years earlier, but just remembering the car that changed his life brought a tear to his eye. 

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that his second day on the job, the day he pushed that perp against his car, had changed his life. Eleven blocks he ran after the guy, and he remembers the feeling of pride encasing him all while the guy called him a pig and told him to rot in hell. Jake doesn’t think he could pull off an eleven block chase today, as much as he hated to admit it, he was entering the older side of adulthood. It makes him shudder to think that he would soon be entering the middle aged man phase. 

It was definitely one of the best days of his life, despite it triggering his crushing debt for years to come which he had barely just recovered from. So yeah, that car changed his entire life — it was essentially where he fell in love with Amy. 

He was hardly speaking metaphorically. Their first date, even if it was only for a bet, was in that car. Jake had his first real conversations with Amy that night, and he had the time of his life. Nothing happened between them for a long time after that, and by the time he told Amy that he loved her for the first time, his mustang was long gone. But it still held that special place in his heart for the beginnings of his relationship with the woman who was now his wife and now the future mother of their children. 

This was a story he couldn’t wait to tell their kids about. Jake was really going to be that dad who told their children stories about their parents relationship just because he was so in love with Amy. He thought books were overrated compared to the stories he could tell about him and Amy — his stories would well and truly trump any story about a dumb turtle and bunny race. Alas, Amy was his amazing Amy, and had already started adding children’s books to their Amazon wish list because they would 100% be giant book nerds. 

The anticipatory anxiety intensifies as they pull up to the car dealership. Amy seems just as nervously excited as he is, but Jake suspects that she’s mostly thrilled to get rid of the piece of junk he calls a car. They aren’t getting much for the car, only a small fraction of the price would be cut off whatever new car they choose. Savings were savings, so they wouldn’t say no. 

He’s not particularly emotional when he does say goodbye to the car — most of his feelings in the moment were related to picking a new car for their family. Not to mention the swell of emotions that came every time he thought of them having a real baby.

Even if Jake could really go to the past to tell past-Jake all about his future, he knows his past self wouldn’t believe him. Being at a place in his life where he was confident to become a father, and with Amy of all people, is something he never thought he would achieve. Not long ago he had felt the same, that he was too damaged from his own experience with his unreliable father to be a good dad himself. Everyday since they had decided to start trying, Jake was doing everything in his ability to prove that he wasn’t going to be like his father, Jake would be better than that. He was still afraid now, at the idea of becoming a father. But with Amy by his side and his epic skills handling Pam and the bomb — it was now a fear he can tackle head on and know he’d be okay in the end. 

Amy made sure to not let go of his hand the entire time at the car dealership, pointing out every back seat to remind him that’s where their baby would sit. As if Jake could forget, he could imagine it clear as day. 

The medium sized champagne coloured sedan isn’t what he expected. They’d done their research on safety features and what-not, but he really hadn’t imagined what the car would look like. The test drive goes perfectly — even there, Amy’s hand is still present on his knee and squeezing whenever she felt overwhelmed by it all. Jake could definitely relate, but he had to stick to squeezing the car wheel. 

The colour and make of the car did make him feel a bit older than he really wanted to feel, but Amy was so set on it by the time they got back to the dealership so he knew it was a done deal. It had all their preferences when it came to safety features while still including heated car seats which, Amy had insisted to the saleswoman, was a necessity. The lady had been confused when Jake agreed with a hearty nod; there was probably no woman in the world more passionate about keeping her bottom warm during the winter than Amy Santiago. 

Jake would get used to the lameness the car radiated, because soon enough, the baby inside it would make it much cooler. Besides, the more he thought about it, it was really rebellious car being the colour of an alcohol. This car was cool. 

At least Amy definitely made it feel good when they left the dealership hand in hand, the keys to their new family car in her hand as she suggested the stop for some champagne of their own before continuing the sensuous journey to parenthood. 

#ok im honestly really proud of this #there was a lot of feelings put into this and i just love them #they're gonna be parents and im not ready ok #jake x amy #jake x amy fics #peraltiago fics #peraltiago fic #peraltiago fanfiction #b99 fics #amy santiago #jake peralta #my fics

[writtenbynath]

Energy play - a fantasy about a girl I can't touch right now

I'm not usually someone who enjoys playing in public or for an audience. But this girl is special. I've already forgotten about her Dom and her girlfriend, and whoever else may be watching us. She is delicious, alive, and so open…

To be honest, I didn't see it the first time I met her. She was shy and there were so many things going on. It took me a while before I noticed her energy, and the way she anticipates my every move. I can almost see her expectations hanging in the air, like an echo of the future. As if this whole scene is an elaborate deja-vu. Even though she's standing there, waiting nervously for what I might do. Her body and her bright eyes are practically begging me to be rough and seductive with her.

There is something delicious about invading her space like this, pressing my body up against hers, groping her, smelling her scent. Something awakens inside me, something predatory, something so much bigger than just me. She shudders and gasps as my claws roam the skin of her back, but I'm not just playing with my hands under her blouse, I'm looking for something…

With my breasts pressed against her slender body, and my arms wrapped around her, my eyes close. Or perhaps they just roll up, I can't tell. My hands are my senses now, and I'm holding a crackling body of energy, searching for the little spots where I can reach in and connect with her. She squirms in my arms, and it's getting me all worked up. I kiss her, but that doesn't seem to calm either of us.

My claws search her spine, usually there is a spot on the spine… My mind's eye is momentarily distracted by the lovely colours… The squirming turns into riding up against me, which means I've found something… That can't just be the groping and the kiss… She's so shy usually… But I can't seem to find the… Let's call it the nexus.

Freeing one hand from under her clothes, I grasp her hair at the back of her neck. I want her. I kiss her hungrily and she swoons in my embrace. My other hand is still searching, groping her crotch, and then up past her bellybutton. She shakes, and I wonder what I'm making her feel. It's mostly anticipation. I grin, still locked in that hungry kiss. Just you wait until I find it…

With soft fingers, I go up, stroking ribs, the skin over the solar plexus, her hard nipples, my hand lingers over the heart, wondering why it's not here. The energy is definitely getting brighter and I want it, where is it? I want… Oh fuck, girl… I end the kiss, jerk her head to the side with my fist in her hair, and bite down on the soft skin on the side of her neck. My mind momentarily fantasises about drinking her energy like this, about how powerful it would make me feel, and about her growing weak and limp in my arms. Reality and fantasy are hard to tell apart in a moment like this…

My hand tingles and grows warm, I've found her nexus of energy, like a hot spring bubbling up against my palm. Her energy is water except that she bends to my will. I can't help the victorious chuckle escaping my lips as I stand up straight to steady us both.

With my hand gently lying flat on the place where her neck and chest connect, just above the breasts, I sink my energetic claw into her nexus, grabbing hold of her at the source of her everything. Her whole body follows my hand and her head lols on top of her neck. If she was in a tense, anticipatory induction headspace a moment ago, she is in trance now. 

I finally open my eyes. I find the bed and push her towards it, trying not to let my hand on her nexus waver. Two shoving, shambling steps and her calves touch the bed sheets. I pause for a second to admire the slack, gone look on her face. Then, I let go of her, and she drops on the bed. She loves that, her girlfriend has shown me how she does that. She seems to be unconscious, lying there limply among the pillows. But when I climb on the bed and my desire in my hand finds her nexus again, her whole chest rises up off the bed to meet my touch, even though her face remains so blank and open.

I take a moment to settle on top of her, my hand resting on her chest, her body sinking back down on the bed, my legs straddling her thighs. My eyes close or roll up again, I don't need them for this. I can sense her perfectly, every shudder, every breath. With a deep, focusing breath, I open my own nexus, I summon my power to grow, to give my hunger shape. It glows and courses through me, and I let out a low snarl. My hands are hot with my power and the one on her chest is pushed up by the clash of our energies, hovering an inch above her skin now. She is wet and responsive, and I am raw with desire.

My other hand travels over her body to the root of her spine, to her sex, her cunt. And I pour my desire into her, making her squirm and squeal with pleasure. Amused by the breathy sounds she makes, I try to open my eyes, to see what is happening with our flesh in this room. But her nexus tickles my hand, bubbling up and connecting with me. When I move to pull my hand up and away, her chest rises off the bed to follow. With my eyes, I only see the way the energies rushing through us contort her body. She moans as if I'm making love to her, and who is to say that I'm not? 

I struggle to focus, grunting as both my hands tense, crackling with power. I want to focus, to change the flavour, because it's sexual desire now, and though she deserves all the orgasms, this moment is not about that. I focus inward, my chin slumping onto my chest, and I reach past my passion, into my nexus to find the pure light at its core. A shockwave of pleasure slams into us both, and I dig my claws into her as I ride the wave, dragging her with me into the pure light. It lifts us both off the bed, and I can feel my neck crane and my lips grin. The feeling is familiar to me, and I start to mutter soft, calming words as she continues to jerk and shudder under my hands.

"This is what I wanted to show you, sweetie." I whisper as my shoulders start to relax. "This is rapture. This is the source of my power. This is what you saw, what you called 'good'. Sometimes it seems endless, connected to everything. Just take it in."

Her breath is ragged with shuddering moans. I try to press down on her with the calm clarity that I feel when I stare into that pure light, to share that serenity with her. Her mouth opens and she babbles incoherently, in awe. 

I grab her shoulders, cuddling her, pressing my breasts in her face, petting her hair. "Thank you, lovely girl…" I say softy. "It's rare that I can show this to someone…"

[fandomsfeelsandfanfics]

The Very First/// Charlie Weasley x Reader

A/N: Merry/Happy Whatever-You-Celebrate! This is my first actually posted Charlie Weasley fanfic so I hope you guys like it. 

Other holiday fics:

Sirius Black   Draco Malfoy   Neville Longbottom   Newt Scamander   Harry Potter   James Potter   Remus Lupin

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   Charlie nervously played with your fingers as you walked up the drive of the Burrow. Your eyes looked around the yard in wonder. Charlie followed your gaze. 

    “I know it’s not much,” he said quickly. You stopped moving and looked up at him. 

   “I think it’s great.” He didn’t even look at you. He was still looking around nervously. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He finally looked down at you. 

   “I don’t know. I’ve just never done anything like this and I don’t know.” Before you could even think of a response you paused for a moment. Were you the first person he’d brought home?

   “Wait are you saying that I’m the only person you’ve ever brought home,” you asked. He broke eye contact and cleared his throat. 

   “Let’s go.” He began to walk just a bit faster and reached the door. You were about to bring up the topic again but within less than a second the door was opened. Two boys stood in front of the door, they were completely identical. The twins.

    “Wow,” they said in unison. One of them began to speak by himself. “We knew Charlie was bringing home someone but we thought it was gonna be a lizard or something and you’re...wow.” 

    “Alright outta the way arseholes.” Charlie shoved them out of the way and led you into the house. 

    “Charles Weasley! No cursing in my house!” A short plump woman with the same fiery red hair as everyone else in the room came around the corner into the living room with her hands on her hips. 

    “Mum!” He leaned down to hug him. When he stood back up he looked over at you. “Mum this is (Y/N). (Y/N) this is my mum.” Before you could even say hi she pulled you into a tight hug. You hugged her back quickly. 

   “It’s very nice to meet you darling, Charlie tells me so much about you. Both of you are looking so thin.” 

    “Mum,” Charlie mumbled. 

   “Oh hush now,” she said to Charlie. Se turned towards you with the same warm smile. “You’ve made it just in time for dinner dear. Ginny just set the table, come right in.” She grabbed your hand and you followed her in the into the kitchen with Charlie close behind. You sat down at the end of the table and Charlie scooted into the seat next to you. 

    Another red head came into the kitchen and sat next to you. His hair was long and he had a piercing and was wearing all black. When he saw you his eyebrow went up. He sat down across from you and Charlie with a smirk playing at his lips.

    “So little brother, this is who you brought to Christmas.” His eyes trailed up and down your body before coming back up to your eyes. “Nice.” 

    “Hey, keep your eyes up here Bill,” Charlie shouted. Bill chuckled. He held out his hand and you shook it. 

    “You must be (Y/N).” You nodded. 

    “And you must be Bill.” 

    “So love, are you sure your here with the right Weasley?” You laughed and nodded. 

    “Bill,” Charlie hissed. Bill began to laugh again. 

    “Sorry sorry. I’m only kidding.” Mrs. Weasley called the other kids into the kitchen and they all came running in. The only girl in the group ran up to Charlie’s side. She was short, had hair down to just past her shoulder, and a huge smile. 

    “Ginny! I’ve got something for you.” He turned towards you, you reached in your pocket and handed Bill a small egg. He handed it to GInny. “Do not lose it, do not let mum see it alright.” She jumped up slightly, throwing her arms around his neck. 

    “Thank you!” She reached around him to hug you. At first you were surprised but then you were hugging back. When you let go she ran to the other end of the table. The twins put the food on the table along with their mum. It was all festive food, ham and various vegetables. Mrs. Weasley ran to the edge of the kitchen.

    “Ronald! Harry! Come on down!” You leaned closer to Charlie so that you could whisper in his ear. 

    “Do you think it’s the best idea to give your little sister a dragon?” He smiled down at you. 

    “It’s Ginny, she’ll be fine.” Two young boys walked into the kitchen. One looked like the others and the other was absolutely unmistakeable. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. The other one, Ron, smiled at you and Charlie and waved. Harry followed suit. 

     Everyone had sat down except for Molly and there were still two seats left. She looked at the table realizing she was missing someone. “Where’s your father?” 

     “Out in the garage.” Molly looked slightly annoyed as she stomped over to the back door. She threw it open and poked her head out. 

     “Arthur! Dinner!” 

      “Coming dear,” came a yell from the yard. Molly shut the door and sat down. 

    “Well, you can all dig in now. Especially you Harry.” Everyone began to reach out for various foods. The room began to fill with loud laughter and the sound of knives scraping on plates. Moments later the door opened and Mr. Weasley entered. Everyone greeted him as he took his seat next to you. Charlie got up to hug him. 

    “It feels like you’ve grown some more, how long has it been?” 

    “Too long but I haven’t grown, I think you’ve been shrinking, old man.” They both began to laugh. Arthur’s gaze moved over to you. 

    “You must be (Y/N). Charlie mentioned that you were a muggleborn, right?”

     “Yeah, that’s right.”

    “Wonderful. You must have led a rather interesting life. Can you tell me something? How do mobile telephones work?”

     The night had wound to an end and all of the food was off the table. The conversation were mostly over. You had spent the night happily answer Arthur’s questions and laughing at Bill’s jokes. Molly was using her wand to clear the table and move all of the dishes to the sink. You let out a yawn. 

    “Mum, this was all fantastic,” Charlie exclaimed. 

    “Yeah, it was delicious Mrs. Weasley,” you agreed. She thanked both of you before going back to the dishes. 

    “It’s pretty late and I think we’re pretty tired so we’re gonna call it a night,” Charlie said. You nodded in agreement and got up from the table. 

     “Sleep well and um....don’t stay up too late.” Mrs. Weasley paused awkwardly, not wanting to say what she was actually insinuating. “We’re opening presents early tomorrow.” Charlie’s face got slightly red as he hurried out of the room. 

     “Night everyone,” he mumbled before closing the door behind himself.

     You followed him up to his room. It was decorated with posters of all types of dragons or magizoologist. The book shelf was absolutely full, it had books ranging from ones that looked ancient to books that looked like they’d never been touched. You turned around to see him staring at you, waiting for some type of reaction. 

     You flashed him a smile. “This is great.” He looked just the slightest bit relieved. His hand ran through his hair bashfully. 

    “Well, it hasn’t changed much since I was a teenager so...” Your eyes darted back over to the bookshelf. 

     “Well,” you began, looking back over at him,” you were one nerdy teenager, Weasley.” He laughed, losing any of the nervousness he’d gained by bringing you in this room. 

     You got ready, put on your pajamas quickly, and waited for him in the bed. He came back in the room from the bathroom, wearing only his favourite pair of pajama pants. You smiled at him as he walked over to the bed. He crawled in next to you slowly. You put your hand on his chest and he put his on top of yours, playing with your fingers lazily. 

     “So what’d you think?” He began to bite his lip anxiously. 

     “I loved them. They’re great, your mum and dad are just so nice and your siblings are so sweet and funny.” He let out a quick breath. 

     “Well, that’s good.” 

     “What’d they think of me? That’s the real question.” He looked over at you quickly. 

     “I don’t know for sure but if they have any sense they love you. You’re perfect.” You leaned back slightly. Trying to relax yourself. You were silent for a minute but it wasn’t working. 

      “Then why were you so nervous? And why haven’t you ever brought anyone home? You’re family’s fantastic and you clearly love them so it couldn’t have been any of them so what is it?” He looked slightly more nervous than before. He was clearly trying to figure out how to answer.

      “Well....I don’t know why I was nervous, I guess just because  I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve never done anything like this because well....there’s never been anyone special enough I guess. I don’t know. I just want everything to be perfect and I suppose it was you’re the only girl I’ve had serious feelings about so you always make me nervous. I just want you to be happy and I want everything to be good for you and so sometimes I’m weird about it I guess.” The room filled with a sort of anticipatory silence as you tried to figure out what to say and do. You leaned forward and kissed him. He pulled you closer softly, his large hands wrapping around your waist. 

     You leaned back slightly to look into his bright blue eyes. “I love you, Charlie,” you mumbled. His gaze switched between your lips to your eyes trying to decide where to stay. 

    “I....I love you too,” he replied. 

#charlie #charlie fanfic #charlie fanfiction #charlie x reader #charlie fluff #charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfic #charlie weasley fanfiction #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley fluff #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #x reader fanfic #x reader fanfiction #x reader fluff #fluff #fluff fanfic #fluff fanfiction

[franklyshipping]

Vice Versa (Part 7) ~ A Markiplier Ego Fanfic

FIIIIRST CHRIIISTMASSSS FIIIIIIC! Based off a prompt sent in by @phantomtickles​ …….and I think we an all agree that in this series, this occurance has been LONG overdue…..LET’S DO IT!

Bim was nervous. He wasn’t sure whether there was any point....would Dark even want to? Allow me to update you. Bim and Dark’s relationship was blossoming, they trusted each other, made each other happy, and simply just completed one another. And I think we’re all familiar by now with a certain aspect of their relationship which honest to god is just so perfect for both of them. Bim was always the ah, recipient, so to speak. But recently he’d been thinking more and more about the possibility of……switching it up. He was apprehensive because he wasn’t sure about whether Dark would even find that appealing. However, as Bim had come to learn…..if you don’t ask, then you don’t get. They were lounging in Dark’s room, although it was slooowly becoming a shared room since a few succulents and interview scripts were set neatly on another new desk……which also had an abundance of christmas lights and festive ornaments. Bim lay on the bed, still pondering as Dark sat at his desk; totally doing important things and not ordering potted plants for Bim for christmas or anything. Anyway, Bim decided to sit up, and speak up.

’……hey babe?’

Dark closed his laptop slowly, and swivelled in his chair with a light smile.

‘Yes dear?’

Oh how could he word this…..hmm. Bim thought for a moment, but then smiled lightly. He shuffled so he was sat at the end of the bed, and fiddled with his hands as he looked to Dark.

‘I uhm, I had an idea of something I’d like for Christmas.’

Dark perked up, now he was certainly intruiged. He stood and padded over, perching next to Bim as he gazed at him curiously.

'Oh? Well please, do tell.’

Dammit how could Dark sound so sexy and sultry all the damn time?! Bim nibbled his lip nervously…..but internally, he could feel bubbles of hope and determination. So he spoke, whilst looking at him softly.

'Well, I-I was wondering……if you would, maybe, consider letting me…..’

Dark gazed at him patiently, trying to decipher and predict what his words were going to be; but nothing could have prepared him.

’…..tickle you?’

Dark was taken aback, mostly by the fact that Bim had managed to say the word that usually rendered him silent at the very thought of it. Dark had to admit……he had been considering the very same thing. Mainly because it had gotten to the point where he trusted Bim, unconditionally; and he rather liked the idea of Bim reducing him to…..ahem.

'O-oh…..w-well I….ahem….’

Bim’s heart was racing as he observed how Dark seemed to stutter, and even shrink back a little. But Bim stayed patient, fingers fidgeting as Dark slowly continued.

'A-actually I…..I quite like that idea…..’

Bim’s eyes lit up, and Dark felt his smile grow. He couldn’t help but look down with a hint of bashfulness, clearing his throat fractionally as Bim seemed to bubble and fizz with excitement.

'R-really? You really like it if I did that?!’

Bim’s gaze raked over Dark’s demeanour, and he could feel little waves of mischief building up as he saw the little cracks in Dark’s stoic resolve. Dark glanced up at him, keeping his posture straight to try and regain some form of…..reputation.

’……y-yes…..’

Dark muttered, and Bim felt himself grin gently. He shuffled a little closer to Dark so that their shoulders and legs brushed, there was a sparkle behind Bim’s eyes as he whispered.

'What’s with the stammer sweetheart? I don’t make you nervous do I?’

Bim’s light tone made Dark gulp gently, and the latter was a little shocked at how……mischievous, Bim was starting to be; oh god, what had he let himself in for? Dark looked to Bim, lips twitching with anticipation.

'N-no, I-I uhm…..I’m not nervous, not at all…..’

Bim couldn’t help but let out a gentle giggle at how quickly Dark had seemingly shrunk and crumbled; it was incredibly adorable. Bim reached forward slowly and wrapped his hand around Dark’s wrist, his thumb stroking over the top of Dark’s hand.

'Oh aren’t you? Hmm, you don’t sound so sure…..’

Dark nibbled his bottom lip at the new contact, his breath becoming more jittery as he averted his gaze from Bim’s teasingly joyful demeanour; he kept silent which only made Bim giggle again.

'This is too perfect……’

Bim purred before pausing, and smirking widely as he leant to whisper in Dark’s ear.

'Now then…..shoes and jacket, on the floor. And hurry up about it.’

Dark froze at the command, pink tinges appearing on his cheeks as Bim removed his hand and stood; his form was relaxed and observational. Dark ended up fumbling and shuffling as he kicked his shoes off, before standing and shrugging his jacket off…..letting it slide and crumple on the floor. Bim strode towards him, eyes shining as he let his hand trace down Dark’s shirt covered chest, which made Dark shiver reflexively.

'Lovely……now, on your back on the bed. If you don’t mind.’

Dark felt like his body wasn’t his own, all he could think about was how much he wanted this, how much he wanted Bim to…..be like this with him. Dark’s lips quirked into a nervous smile as he walked to the bed, and crawled onto it slowly; Bim watched with a light…..hunger. Bim had discarded his own shoes as Dark lay on his back, his fingers fiddling with the edge of his shirt as he watched Bim with uncertainty and excitement. Bim gazed at him, letting out a gentle sigh as he strode over to the bed and crawled onto it himself. Dark was transfixed. He couldn’t look away as Bim slowly moved until he was partially lying on top of him, his face positioned directly over Dark’s as he whispered delicately.

'Comfy sweetheart?’

Dark blinked a few times as he hurried to find his voice, and even though he did find it I think it was safe to say that any tone suggestive of resistance had curled up and hidden away.

“Y-y….I…y-yes…..yes I a-am…..’

Dark flicked his gaze away when Bim chuckled lightly. The latter paused for a few moments, just so he could drink it all in and cement it in his memory; Dark’s anticipatory nerves were so fucking beautiful.

'Good…..I wanna make sure you have lots of fun…..’

Dark’s flush continued to bloom, and he was about to try and reply when the feeling of lips on his halted that course of action. Bim was a good kisser, there was no debate; his lips were soft and his movements so passionate and meaningful. He put everything into every kiss, which Dark adored. Dark let out slightly mewling sigh as Bim drew back, with a powerful grin back in place. He reared up so now he was sitting comfortably on Dark’s thighs, letting his hands roam up Dark’s torso and chest until he reached the man’s collar; Dark tried to hold back his squirming, but the poor man couldn’t help it.

'Hmm…..you know, since we’re here like this….I’d like to make a little bet.’

Bim stated innocently as Dark perked up a little, glancing at him curiously….but it was hard to stay focused since Bim had started to work on removing his tie. Untying it, pulling it from him, tossing it to the floor, moving to the buttons on his shirt. Dark’s voice was a whisper.

'Wh-what…..kind of b-bet?’

Bim’s grin was unwavering as his fingers nimbly unbuttoned Dark’s shirt, and after a few moments he opened it up to reveal his bare…..sensitive torso. Dark shivered and knawed on his lip, watching Bim impatiently as he seemed to ponder his response; really he was just dragging it out so he could see Dark’s resolve melt.

'Well, I think this bedroom looks a little…..festively void….’

Dammit. Dark should have known. Bim had been pestering and trying to persuade him to let him decorate the whole bedroom, but he’d been adamantly against it. Well…..it seemed all his resisting was going to be for nothing now. Bim let out a light giggle as he saw the gentle change in Dark’s expression, and he relished in the man’s renewed squirming as he grabbed the shirt and began pulling it up so it could slide from Dark’s arms; conveniently, Dark raised his arms to make it easier for Bim…..Dark didn’t even care about whether he came across as eager by this point.

'Oh….w-well I-’

'Did I say you could speak?’

Dark’s eyes widened at Bim’s abrupt, commanding tone that was accompanied by a raised eyebrow of warning; Dark quickly gulped and went silent. Bim swiftly removed the shirt completely and tossed it to the floor, and Dark was in the process of lowering his arms when Bim suddenly reached forward so he could stop that from occurring; Dark’s wrists were held, pinned. Bim leant back over him.

'As I was saying…..since you’ve been so adamant and defiant, I suggest that if you manage to keep your arms up by yourself, then we can keep having it your way.’

Dark nibbled his lip, nervous bubbles already building…..he couldn’t do that. He knew he couldn’t do that, but that wouldn’t stop him from attempting. Bim smirked deviously.

'But, if those arms come crashing down…..then I get to decorate however I want. Agreed?’

Dark knew there was no point in disagreeing, so he simply nodded. Bim smiled with a sigh, looking down at Dark with eager eyes as his hands left his wrists and slowly began to drag down Dark's arms.

'I knew you'd see it my way......'

Dark was already knawing on his bottom lip as the corners of his lips twitched into a smile, Bim's light teasy touch was awakening his nervous system wonderfully.

'Oho......ohokayokayokay....'

Dark's breathing was quickly becoming more jittery as the first little yips escaped him, all the while Bim walked and trailed his fingertips under Dark's arms, teasing the sensitive skin.

'I was about to ask if you were okay, but you uh.....kinda answered me a bit early...'

Bim giggled as Dark tried to purse his lips in indignance, but due to his irreversible smile it meant he ended up pulling a rather.....pouty expression.

'Sh-shut uhup.....'

Dark's voice was strained as he fought back a stream of giggles, Bim could see that he really was trying hard; it seemed he would have to try harder. And Dark had given him the perfect opportunity.

'Such rude.....rude words....'

Dark's eyes widened when Bim suddenly dragged all of his fingertips.....right from his armpits, down and overs all his ribs, and down over his sides until his hands rested on Dark's hips. Dark's body shivered as his arms jerked, his back arching as so many spots were teased; his giggling also broke free.

'Gohoddahammit Bihihihim!'

Dark smiled wide as he squirmed, chills passing through him as Bim smirked and continued his light dragging; up and down up and down, with no hint of stopping of even lingering.

'You really have no manners do you? Honestly.....you really do deserve this.....'

When Bim's voice lowered into a purr, Dark could feel his cheeks heating up as he wriggled and clenched his fists; it had barely started dammit!

'Ihi dohon't Ihi dohohon't!'

Dark insisted as Bim's blunt nails began raking over his chest, stomach and sides; this also meant that Dark was flinching every five seconds like he'd been electrically shocked. Which Bim found incredibly amusing.

'Yes you do yes you dooooo!'

Bim cooed which only made Dark giggle harder, the mocking made embarrassment rise up inside him as he tried to half-hide his face in the crook of his elbow.

'Thahahat ihis nahat truhuhue dahammihit!'

Bim grinned and raised an eyebrow, chuckling a little when Dark gasped; his fingertips had paused on top of his tummy, which Dark had subconsciously started to suck in. Bim's eyes shone at Dark's reactions.....they were beautiful to witness.

'Oh but it iiiiis! Not only do you deserve aaaaall of this....'

Bim's fingers curled and uncurled over Dark's tummy, particularly scratching over the waistline which made Dark splutter and buck; Bim continued to speak deviously.

'.....but you adore it too.'

Dark was encased in light cackles as he gasped and yelped, the feeling of Bim's fingertips at his waistline also brought his flustered feelings to the surface.

'THAHAT'S AHA LIHIHIIIIE!! AHA BIHIG FAHAT LIHIHIE!!'

Dark wailed as crimson overcame his grey complexion, and his arms became unbelievably tense; they were nearly shaking with the effort to not come crashing down to grasp Bim's wrists. Said man meanwhile was smirking unabashedly, god why hadn't he asked to do this sooner? Dark was so damn precious.

'Awwww is someone in denial? I understand, I used to be like you, young, naïve.....'

Dark let out a squeal as one of Bim's hands reached to pinch at his left thigh whilst the other went to scratch in one of his hollows, the two contrasting areas reeeally toyed with Dark's senses. Bim's added teasing was just the cherry on top.

'PLEHEHEHEEEASE!! DOHOHON'T TEHEHEASE!!'

He couldn't keep the childish whine out of his mirth filled voice as his whole body thrashed, and Dark's arms were beginning to bend at the elbows; he was close....so close to breaking. Bim could see that, so he decided to tone it down; he didn't want it to end just yet. His hands moved so his palms rested on Dark's sides, as Bim cheekily formulated his response.

'But teasing is the best part! Not only do I get to tickle you, but I get to talk about it! I get to comment on how you get so weak and jittery at my touch......and how just thinking about it flusters you endlessly.'

Dark's lips trembled as he let out a tiny mewling noise, Bim's words swirled in his mind as they taunted him and he looked away from Bim hastily; he never thought teasing would have affected him so much, well....we live and learn.

'B-Bihihiiiiiim......'

Bim let out a fond snicker at Dark's whine, he was still in awe of the fact that he'd managed to reduce Dark to such an embarrassed mess; he leant over Dark with a wide grin.

'That's my name, don't wear it out sweetie.'

Dark let out a giggle as he hesitantly looked up into Bim's eyes, and his own eyes widened when Bim placed a chaste kiss on his lips; Dark couldn't help but giggle as Bim reared up and sent him a wink, grinning deftly as he hummed.

'Hmm, kissing you on the lips seems to get your lovely giggles out....I wonder what'll happen if I kiss other places?'

Dark gulped and squirmed nervously, his breath becoming jittery again as Bim shuffled slowly until his head was over Dark's torso; his eyes seemed to scan it eagerly as he developed a thoughtful expression.

'Goodness I'm spoilt for choice! Buuuut I think I'll start with this gorgeous tummy of yours, since you always give mine so much attention I think it's only fair that I return the favour.....'

Bim purred as he leant down, not hesitating to place little pecks and nuzzles over the soft area as he peeked up so he could gauge Dark's reaction; and what a response he got.

'F-Fuhuhuck ohooo m-my gohohod.....'

Dark had gasped and let his head fall back and an endless stream of giggles left his lips, but interlinking with those giggles were a plethora of hums and little sighs which signalled how Dark was very much enjoying this little technique.

'Awwww, does it feel good Darky?'

Dark's ability to focus had diminished, so at Bim's words he didn't hesitate to nod lazily. The feeling was so unique. Dark couldn't keep still either, his body wriggled and jerked restlessly as Dark melted at the sensations; he felt the urge to bury his hands in Bim's hair as he carried on with his loving work-wait. There was a flicker of focus left. Just a flicker. And that flicker was what kept Dark's arms rooted above his head, even though the rest of him had succumbed. Bim was surprised, but definitely not disappointed.

'God you're so strong, I definitely would have given in by now.....'

As Bim spoke into his belly it sent little, tickly vibrations through Dark's system which made him elicit a few gentle squeaks....and those increased in number as Bim moved his affections closer to his ribs, which caused a spark of nerves to awaken in Dark.

'Nononohoho n-nohot thehere!'

Dark's voice was high pitched and pleading as he giggled and tried to shuffle away from Bim's lips, but the latter simply held his hips and lay on top of him; he couldn't move away now as Bim glanced at him with a cheeky grin.

'Uh ohhhh, did I find a tickle spoooot?'

Dark frantically shook his head, giggling continuously as Bim got closer and closer to his ribs, bubbles of anticipation fizzled inside him as he knawed on his lip; he knew he wouldn't be able to take it.....oh no.

'NAHAHAHAHAHAT NAHAT THEHERE NAHAT THEHEHEHEEEERE!!!'

Dark shrieked as Bim growled and affixed his lips to his ribcage, kissing and nibbling in earnest as Dark writhed and squealed and laughed madly, it was so evil! Bim cackled lightly, smirking as he playfully dragged his teeth over the bones which made Dark yelp loudly.

'Tickle tickle tickle! Mmmm what sensitive ribs you have.....and tasty tooooo!'

Dark's flush was a deep wine colour by this point as Bim cooed at him, making ridiculous slurping and eating sounds as he rapidly nipped at both sides of his ribcage. Dark was unequivocally hysterical, his body was no longer his own and he could barely conceive a clear thought. All he could do was cry out and beg.

'NAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE!!!'

In his desperation, his arms came flying down from above his head so he could push at Bim's shoulders, all he could think about was trying to get him away.....even though he didn't exactly hate the sensations. Bim giggled lightly and complied, letting Dark push him away and breathe in deep gulps of air whilst blinking rapidly and giggling residually.

'It's okay baby, I'm done I'm done....'

Bim spoke in a reassuring tone as he took Dark's hands in his, smiling widely a Dark's giggles died down; his flush didn't though, which Bim was happy about.

'Jehehesuhus Chrihist Bihim.....'

Dark spoke breathlessly as he gazed at him, a wide incredulous smile on his face as he slowly began to sit up. Bim shuffled aside so Dark could straighten up and run a hand through his hair, which was mussed and haywire to the extreme and resulted in him looking significantly more rugged than usual; Bim thought it was a cute look.

'You weren't expecting me to go easy were you? You know how passionate I am about Christmas decorations!'

Dark spluttered and giggled as Bim giggled along with him, and the former let out an exaggerated sigh as he grinned, tendrils of hair sweeping over his forehead as he spoke.

'Ah, I should never have underestimated your ruthlessness my dear.'

Bim smirked, leaning forward to kiss Dark on the cheek before offering a sneaky wink, which Dark couldn't help but roll his eyes at.

'Damn right, but then again.....I learnt from the best.'

Dark felt his chest bubble and heat up at Bim's words, and he grinned before pulling Bim by his shirt and planting their lips together; despite Dark's breathlessness, it lasted for quite a while. It was warm, with a decent amount of passion, but not an overwhelming amount. When they did withdraw, Dark locked onto Bim's eyes as he muttered.

'Merry Christmas.....'

Bim felt his heart jump, and didn't hesitate to reply.

'Merry Christmas.'

Thus, their bedroom became a lot more festive. Light bounded round the room as character and emotion came to the forefront.....or was that just because of the room's inhabitants? Either way, it was pretty damn merry.

 FIRST CHRISTMAS FIIIIIIIIC!! I HOPE YA LIKE IT AAAAAND MERRY CHRISTMAS, LUV YOOOUS XX

#markiplier #markiplier egos #dark #darkiplier #bim #bim trimmer #dark x bim #tickle fic #tickle fanfic #ego fic #ego fanfic #sfw #prompts #floof #romantic #christmas #tickle #tickles #tickling #ticklish #luv this series #luv ma bois

[wordsonpages1-blog]

betty and jug had a baby when they were 16 and are now 20, their boy was born with a type of autism and everyone felt 'bad' for them he had the type of autism where he wont look anyone in the eye and everything had to be done to a schedule but him and jug have a really good connection. all 3 go out to lunch and their son has a massive tantrum and jug has to settle him and betty feels helpless and has a breakdown, its okay if you dont know how to approach this it was just a thought i had :)

Okay first of all anon thankyou for this beautiful idea! I love it, very touching and I am honored you trusted me with such a concept. Secondly, sorry about the insane wait with this one I just had to take a while to determine how to best go about this.  Also this was supposed to be a little oneshot and turned into like 9 word document pages haah

as for the story I am a little unsure what you will all think as the subject matter was obviously a bit tricky. I am by no means an expert in this field but I did do a bit of research before writing so I hope I don’t offend anyone or invalidate anything. 

So basically I tried to make the symptoms of their child’s autism ingrained throughout the story without explicitly stating what they are but for reference I went mostly with communication difficulty [impaired, delayed speech, repetitive speech], difficulty with eye contact, obsession and slight aversion to touch. 

TO BE A FAMILY:

“Ready Jug?” Betty called from the living room eyes dartingaround as she mentally ran through the list of supplies she needed for theirouting. The blonde nodded her head in affirmation, satisfied that she hadmanaged to cram everything they could possibly need in the day bag.

The sound of two sets of footsteps padding down the hallwayof their small home pre-empted her answer before it was delivered from theaforementioned party.  

“Yeah babe.”

Grabbing the day bag off the coffee table and slinging it overher shoulder Betty turned toward Jughead’s voice. She couldn’t help the smilethat spread across her lips as she took in the sight of her long-term boyfriendleaning against the door frame, theiralmost four year old son standing close to his father’s legs- not quitetouching.

It was a vision that never failed to make her heart contractand warmth spread throughout her being.

Noticing her smile, Jughead’s lips twitched in retaliation.He raised a dark eyebrow at her teasingly.

“I think your mum’s checking me out bud,” Jughead quippedcasting a glance down at Ollie who was idly fiddling with his fingers andwatching the floor.

“Don’t flatter yourself Jones,” the young mother teasedback, rolling her eyes at him good naturedly, “Okay let’s get going or Kevin’sgoing to lecture us on the value of respect again.”

Jughead let out a laugh at that, nodding before pushinghimself off the door frame.

“Out,” Ollie mumbled glancing up at his father with wideeyes and scrunched brows that made the young man’s heart clench with affection.

“Yeah Ol, she won’t admit it though,” he kneeled down to hisson’s level, placing a sure hand on his arm and waiting a moment before pickinghim up and settling the toddler on his hip.

Jughead grabbed his keys from the bowl near the door beforeopening the front door.

“It’s not even his event,” he threw over his shoulder toBetty continuing on with their conversation as though there had been nointerruption; a norm after parenthood had dawned upon them.

The blonde merely shrugged, moving past him out the doorway.

“Yes, although I think Veronica would probably appreciateour punctuality as well, she’s only in town for a few more days and it is herbirthday,” Betty replied.

“Birthday,” Ollie mumbled as the pair manoeuvred him intothe car seat. Betty smiled at her son, finishing buckling his seat belt asJughead hopped in the driver’s seat and started the engine.

“That’s right, Aunt V’s birthday,” she affirmed, smoothingdown Ollie’s wild blonde curls.  Thetoddler squirmed away from her touch, his blue eyes flicking to the floor.  Betty removed her hand and sighed.

She tried her best not to take her son’s aversionpersonally. He wasn’t as severely adverse or hypersensitive to touch as otherchildren on the autism spectrum but it did still bother him. She and Jugheadhad learned resilience in showing affection to their son. He was mostly okaywhen the touch was heavy and anticipatory; it was the soft brushes of affectionthat they would sometimes slip up with through instinct that he would flinchaway from.

They had learned to understand and adapt to the quality intheir son, but it didn’t mean it made it any easier to have the little personyou loved so much recoil from you. Betty cherished the moments when Olliesought her out for physical affection or comfort and tried to remind herself ofthose moments during the moments when he shied away from her. She respected hisdiscomfort, but it didn’t make her heart ache any less.

“Betts?” Jughead’s voice broke Betty from her reverie. Sheblinked a few times before meeting his gaze in the rear view mirror.  His tone was soft and understanding and Bettyfelt herself falling a little further in love with him in that moment- exceptit wasn’t just that moment it was a million moments since they were 16 and hehad promised her that they would make this work.

She smiled back at him, a small curve of the lips tiltingmore toward the side of genuine than placatory, before closing the back cardoor and moving to climb in the passenger seat.

Her right hand immediately found the stereo, while Jughead’simmediately clasped her left, his other holding a firm grip on the wheel asthey set off on the relatively short drive to Greendale. Veronica had booked atable at the new bistro that had opened there and although both Jughead andBetty always enjoyed seeing their friends whom were only in town for a shortwhile longer the latter couldn’t deny that the unfamiliar venue caused anuncomfortable pressure to erupt in her chest.

Sensing her unease Jughead gave her hand a squeeze. Bettytook a deep breath and let her eyes card over his form, finding comfort in hisbeauty. His sharp jaw, striking blue eyes and dark hair [still partiallycovered by a beanie] were features that had only become more attractive as he maturedand she still found herself in awe of being able to call him hers after almostfive years together.

The windows were rolled down slightly and Betty let the warmsummer air calm her as it drifted across her skin. The sounds of the RollingStones filtered through the stereo of the truck and Betty couldn’t help butlaugh as Ollie bounced happily in the back to the sound. He loved all music,but classic rock was his favourite, something Jughead was exceptionally proudof.

The peaceful feeling didn’t last though. Twenty minuteslater they were pulling into the parking lot of the restaurant and Betty couldsee her friend’s various vehicles littered across the spaces. Her handsclenched nervously once Jughead had to pull his away to park the truck.

“Dad,” Ollie shouted from the back seat and Jughead turnedaround after shutting off the engine.

“Yeah bud?”

“Dad, music,” Jughead was spun around in his seat now,giving Ollie his full attention while Betty was busying herself grabbing theday bag and Veronica’s present from the back seat.

“We’ll listen to more later, but now we have to go inside,”the dark haired man tried to assure.

“Music!” Ollie’s hands were fidgeting and his eyebrows werescrunched, with a little pout to rival his mother’s best signalling hisimpending distress.

“Na bud, how about we talk about trains instead?” Heplacated, quickly unlocking his phone and pulling up some pictures he had savedof the freight vehicles to occupy his son’s attention.

It seemed to do the trick as Ollie grabbed the deviceeagerly and started babbling nonsensically a few delayed moments later aboutThomas the Tank engine and his favourite trains.

Moving out of the car, Jughead came up to the passenger sideand carefully extracted Ollie from his car seat, placing the little blonde boyon his chubby legs. Kneeling down Jughead held his hand out.

“Can I have my phone back please?” Ollie kept his blue eyesthat mirrored his fathers trained on the asphalt ground, shaking his head.

“Thomas… blue train and Percy-“

Jughead nodded, engaging his son’s conversation.

“Yeah that’s very true but dad needs his phone back now. Ipromise you can have it back once we’re inside,” he tried to reason with him,ducking his head a little to meet Ollie’s eyes. The toddler shuffled flickinghis eyes between his dad and the ground.

Betty bit her lip to hold back a small chuckle of amusementat the stubborn little boy; she knew he didn’t refuse in order to be stubbornbut it was still endearing to her to see his eye brows furrowed so much likehis father’s.

Moving gently down to kneel beside him, Betty ensured Ollieacknowledged her presence before placing her hands on his arms.

“Ollie if you don’t give Daddy back his phone then he’sgoing to have to carry you inside and no one will know what a big boy you arenow,” she stated in a firm but not threatening tone. Their little boy’s eyeswidened for a second, flicking to his mother. She couldn’t help but let out asmall laugh at the adorably conflicted look on his face.

“Okay, I guess mum’s right,” Jughead began, moving as thoughhe was going to pick Ollie up. The toddler’s hands quickly shot out, offeringthe phone back to his dad immediately. Jughead smirked as he and Betty shared abrief look with equal amusement shining in their gazes.

“Thanks little man,” Jughead said pocketing the phone, whileBetty smiled at her son in gratitude.

“Big boy,” he uttered offering his hand to his mother tohold as they began to walk towards the front door.

“That’s right,” the blonde agreed, handing the bag over toJughead.

Jughead paused before opening the door, turning to Betty.

“Did I tell you that you look gorgeous today Betty Cooper?”he asked in mock concern. Betty laughed, finding herself appreciating hisability to ease her nerves all over again.

“Shut up,” she murmured pecking his lips, before followinghim through the doors of the restaurant.

“Betty!” Veronica’s enthusiastic voice rang across the roombefore the young woman morphed into a blur of raven hair and purple fabric,practically throwing herself at her best friend. Betty laughed at her friend’santics, holding her ground firmly as not to jostle her son- who was stillholding her hand- too much.

“Happy Birthday V,” she said as they broke from theirembrace, holding out a small neatly wrapped package to the socialite. Veronicabeamed her eyes soft yet alight with the excitement of being around her friendsand the attention of her birthday.

“Happy Birthday Veronica,” Jughead offered with a smile,Veronica turned her attention to him then, leaning across to kiss his cheek.

“Thankyou Jughead. And how’s my favourite little man?”Veronica inquired offering Ollie a warm smile.

“Trains dad,” Ollie insisted completely ignoring thebirthday girl, who merely waved off Betty’s sheepish apology and led them tothe long table toward the side of the open room.

As they shuffled between chairs Betty cast a look behind hershoulder at her boyfriend who was currently juggling the day bag, the car keysand a very enthusiastic Ollie who he was managing to keep up a very engagedconversation about trains with. Jughead met her eyes with and offered her aboyish smile and nodded his head toward the table. Any guilt that Betty had ateffectively leaving him with all the responsibilities instantly vanished withhis reassuring glance.

“Ladies and gentlemen Riverdale’s very own Haley and NathanScott,” Veronica joked as they approached the long table filled with theirfriends.

“What?” Archie questioned face scrunched in confusion.

Veronica sighed dramatically in resignation of their lack ofpop culture education.

“Never mind.”

“Hey guys,” Betty greeted, accepting Archie’s hug as hestood up to greet her; Kevin who was situated on the other side of the tablemerely waved as standing would have created an awkward shuffling congregationof people in the somewhat crowded restaurant.

“You guys are on the end and I can get the waiter to bringover a highchair if you want?” Veronica offered, while Archie was helpingJughead sort out the things he was carrying.

“Thanks V but don’t worry he’s a bit old for the highchairnow,” Betty laughed, nudging the dark haired girl in jest. It was these momentswhen she was reminded of the distance in their small group as they all grew upand came into adults of their own. When she was reminded of how estranged herand Jughead had become from other people their age.

Veronica blushed slightly but laughed it off returning toher seat next to Archie’s.

“The tracks… ground and…” Ollie continued to orate in hisslightly delayed and impaired chatter while Jughead sat him in the chair nextto his own and Betty sat beside the birthday girl.

“Sorry we’re a little late,” Jughead apologised once theyhad settled.

“I’ll forgive it this time but only because the birthdayQueen forbade me from lecture giving today,” Kevin chimed in, his voice lightand his sassiness complete with an overzealous and obviously joking eye role.

“Well we do have a pretty good excuse most of the time,”Jughead quipped back in his usual sardonic manner, although clearly notoffended.

Laughter emerged across the table; however, the connotationof how different their lives were was not lost on the group.

And as the conversation continued Betty couldn’t help butreflect on exactly how differently their lives had shaped up to be. While theirfriends put forth conversational topics about college courses, part time jobs,dorm rooms and room-mates the young parents let them be privy to the smallwindow of pre-school and full time work for Fred Andrews, of speech pathologistand doctors’ appointments, of grocery stores and strict routines. The looks ontheir faces were always the same- shock and a hint of pity with a tinge ofpride and respect. The juxtaposition of the life she thought she would beliving at 20 years old and the one that she was living made Betty’s head spin.They were two completely different universes. Neither Jughead nor she wouldchange anything, Ollie and this family had become their world, but the driftbetween themselves and the group of college students they were surrounded bystill made them ache a little.

“Dad really loves having you guys around Jug,” Archiecommented after swallowing a mouth of food.

The red head waited a moment before pursuing the question.His beanie wearing brother’s unresponsiveness signalling he hadn’t heard.

“Jug?” he prodded, with a small chuckle.

The man in question was currently preoccupied with Ollie whowas scribbling with crayons pausing every now and then to roll them around inhis hands or accept a bite of food.

“Thomas… blue, dad. Favourite… Thomas,” the toddler drabbledwhile Jughead drew some random scribbles on the edge of the page.

“Mine too bud. Sorry arch?” He looked up at his red-headedbest friend.

But before Archie could respond to the question the door ofthe restaurant chimed, signalling an entrance. A large group of workmenshuffled through the threshold bustling and boisterous. And as if the universewas looking to throw a curve ball, one of the members of that large groupaccidentally ran into a waitress carrying a tray stacked with dishware whichwas sent crashing to the floor. Glass shattered everywhere with a distinctcrash, followed by shrill exclamations and raising voices.

Ollie’s face scrunched in discomfort as the noises grew. Hisfingers dropping the crayons and fiddling anxiously.

“Dad?” the little boy muttered. Jughead turned his eyes downhis features becoming concerned.

Ollie’s hands became more aggressive in their movements ashe began to shake his head.

“Dad!” he exclaimed.

Betty’s eyes met Jughead’s. They knew what was about tohappen.

Within seconds Ollie was screaming and writhing, tearsstreaming down his face as his hands beat down on the table. His little bodysquirmed as his shrill screams trumped all other noise in the crowdedrestaurant.

The background noise faded away and all of a sudden all eyeswere on their table.

Betty froze. Her friend’s eyes imploring them with panic aspatrons of the restaurant began to whisper and stare, judgement in their eyes.

Ollie’s screaming continued. Betty felt her heart breakingas she took in her son having a meltdown.

Jughead quickly moved into action carefully taking Ollie inhis arms and carrying him away from the table and briskly walking outside therestaurant away from the noise and the abrasive objects that could cause anyharm to him.  Once out the door he placedthe still screaming and fretting Ollie on his feet yet kept a hold of hishands, ensuring he was unable to hit himself. Their son was still profuselyshaking his head as if attempting to dispel all of the noise from his brain.Jughead waited, not speaking yet, as he didn’t want to add to the sensoryinvasion that had triggered the kid so severely.

Yet she couldn’t move. Betty’s body was frozen under theweight of gazes, paralysed by the comments of strangers judging her child,judging her. Her hands slowly curled into fists, nails digging into palms asher breathing became shallow.

“Betty?” Veronica asked, gently placing a hand on her arm.Betty’s eyes darted between her best friend and the window where Jughead wasattempting to console their child. Theguilt flooded her system immediately, only serving to exacerbate the anxietyshe was already feeling. Her chest was aching and she couldn’t seem to actuallyget any air into her lungs. The room was almost spinning.

“B! Betty, breathe,” Veronica exclaimed alarmed. Her owngaze alternating between Jughead and Betty. She looked lost.

“I-“ Betty’s own attempt at a sentence was cut off by herown gasping inhales.

“Did you see thatchild?”

“Young parents, godhelp us with this next generation”

The voices of obnoxious middle aged women penetrated hermind, making her hands clench tighter.

“I just need a minute,” she managed to splutter out beforegetting up and rushing into the bathroom.

Twenty minutes and a lot of self-loathing, guilt riddenthoughts and breathing exercises later Betty finally re-emerged from thebathroom. Hair tied back in a low bun and sun dress sufficiently wrinkled.

As she made her way across to the table three pairs of eyesimmediately landed on her, each with that same sympathetic, pitying gaze.

“Okay girl?” Veronica asked.

Betty nodded, feeling small and slightly embarrassed underthe eyes of her friends. She could clearly see that they felt bad for her, wereworrying about her. Meanwhile her boyfriend was outside still single handilycoping with their son’s meltdown. God she felt terrible. The darkness in herheart chipping away.

“Arch can you pass me that bag?” she asked tiredly with aforced smile. Her sense and mother mode finally kicking into gear.

“Yeah sure Betts,” he nodded, reaching under the table tograb the day bag she had expertly packed and passing it to her.

Squaring her shoulders, Betty attuned to her tunnel visionfocussing on the image on her boyfriend and son through the glass window andignoring the stares and whispers of the pretentious patrons who somehow thoughtthey had the right to comment on her family.

Betty’s heart clenched and her stomach dropped as she tookin the sight of Jughead sitting on the on the footpath, their son curled in hisarms now. It simultaneously broke her heart and filled her with so much forlove.

This was pretty common. After the initial stages of themeltdown surpassed and he began to calm Ollie would crawl into their arms,seeking out comfort. One of the first things they had learned about dealingwith his meltdowns was to let him seek comfort in them; don’t coddle. It washard, fighting their every instinct to wrap him up and protect him but itbecame a practiced skill. Remove him from the situation, ensure he is in a safespace, try and eliminate stimulus, do not exacerbate stimulus.

“And do you know what kind of train Thomas is?” she heardJughead murmur in their son’s ear, slowly extricating communication from him,as he began to calm in order to propel the diversion of his attention.

Ollie mumbled something into his chest and continued tostare down at his lap.

“Hey,” Betty greeted softly, the words travelling across thewarm air to her boyfriend’s ears.

Jughead’s eyes softened as he took in the sight of her,dishevelled and clearly down trodden.

Ollie was still thrashing though less erratically now andhis cries were more like strangled gasps than screams.

“Hi,” Jughead whispered, though his gaze let her in on theconcern he was feeling for her in that moment.

Sighing, Betty came to sit down next to him. She slowlyunzipped the bag and pulled out a set of headphones, plugging them into herphone and passing them to Jughead.

As he adjusted his grip on Ollie she hit play on theplaylist specifically created to calm him and divert his attention. Jugheadthen very gently told Ollie he was going to put the headphones on beforeplacing them atop his blonde curls and carefully over his ears.

They sat in silence for a while. They must have looked aninteresting sight, two twenty year olds sitting on the curb outside arestaurant with their distraught toddler.

Her eyes were downcast, while his gaze was out straightahead.

Betty lightly nudged the toe of his converse with her own,wanting more than anything to seek comfort in his touch at that moment. Her sonneeded it more though and she sure as hell would never deprive him.

The little retaliation of his shoe knocking against hers wasenough for now though. The feeling of his body sat next to hers only inchesaway was enough. He was their rock.

“You okay?” Jughead asked after a few more minutes ofdeteriorating silence. Ollie was mostly settled now, the music calming him morethan placatory words could.

Betty exhaled loudly, turning her eyes to meet his andoffering a deprecating smile.

“No.”

Honesty. That’s what the two of them did. Jughead nodded.

“I don’t know what happened Juggie. I just froze, it waslike my body wouldn’t move and there was so many people just judging us. Judging him like it was his fault. And then I couldn’t breathe andgod I am such a terrible mother-“

“Hey,” he interrupted her sharply, a hand reaching out togently entangle with her slender fingers.

“You Betty Cooper are the best mother this world has everseen. And screw everyone else. Our family is none of their business,” Jugheadspoke with a conviction that managed to untangle some of the knots in herstomach and send her soul locking itself further onto his.

She nodded in earnest, before letting their eyes flick to theirson again who was now almost asleep in Jughead’s arms- a forty minute episodecould do that to a kid.

“I don’t know what happened though Jug, it’s not like thisis the first time this has happened. Meltdowns aren’t knew, we cope with themall the time. I just felt so helpless and you… god you were so great-“ her words were flustered yet exhausted, comingout deprecating and thick with the emotion that was choking in her throat.

“Betty stop. You are allowed to have a panic attack. Thisisn’t easy and yes this is a part of parenthood for us that I know you are morethan capable of handling but here’s the thing. You have an anxiety disorder.You were stressed about being in a new place and already tense. You are goingto have your moments. You are human and you can’t control that any more than thisone can.”

Betty wondered how it was that Jughead always knew exactlywhat to say to her. Five years later and he was still there picking up herbroken pieces and reminding her to be careful with them but never asking her tofix them.

She was suddenly having a flashback to two sixteen year oldshuddled on a bathroom floor. One blonde girl sobbing like a frazzled emotionalmess, pregnancy test in hand while a flannel clad boy held her tight in hisarms and promised her they would make it. He promised her he would be her rock,hers forever. He told her she was hisfamily always and that he couldn’t wait to have a family with her.

And just like that sixteen year old girl, Betty foundherself thanking god all over again for blessing her with such an amazing manto call her love.

“But you didn’t freeze,” her mouth betrayed her mind and herinsecurities slipped out. Jughead’s hand tightened around hers.

“No but that’s the point of being a team right?” He asked sosincerely it almost hurt. Betty couldn’t help the smile that crept its way ontoher lips then.

“Jughead Jones you truly are something else,” she shook herhead in amazement.

Yeah they must have looked an odd little family, sitting onthe curb outside a restaurant with a sleeping child when they were barely morethan children themselves. But it was theirfamily and it was perfectly imperfect.

#bughead #bughead fanfiction #betty x jughead #riverdale fanfiction #betty cooper #jughead jones

[seanimal]

In reply to @pocketpikachus but also just a general post about anxiety and ocd

Okay! So as someone with both general anxiety going on, as well as severe OCD,(if you have ocd, you have anxiety too, since ocd is a severe version of an anxiety disorder) I’ll make this post a bout the similarities and differences (this’ll be a long post so I’ll try to break it up, mostly for my own adhd’s sake haha) ALSO FYI @ anyone reading: this is from my own experiences, there are different ways of experiencing being neurodivergent.

Similarities: 

constant fear/ worrying

anticipatory anxiety

looming sense of doing things wrong/badly

discomfort in new experiences that don’t have a solid plan around them

Anxiety is defined as “a feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease, typically about an imminent event or something with an uncertain outcome” and “desire to do something, typically accompanied by unease,” as well as “a nervous disorder characterized by a state of excessive uneasiness and apprehension, typically with compulsive behavior or panic attacks.”

OCD is more specific: there are routines that people follow that I’ve found relate a lot to superstitions. When someone with OCD has anxiety about something, they have specific rituals they follow in order to ease this anxiety, and to reassure them that they’re okay. Some may use rituals from actual superstitions (knocking on wood or throwing salt over your shoulder), some may use commonly-known rituals such as washing their hands or repetitively locking/unlocking something, and others have countless ones that may be too specific or personal to want to specify (I know I do)

As far as existential dread goes, I think that can apply to anyone with any sort of anxiety. Not knowing what the future has in store for you is a very scary yet very shared experience among people, and all we can do is try to plan for it, despite possibly having rituals they do along the way that provide solace. While people with ocd usually experience this dread/guilt of not knowing the future, it’s not specific to ocd-havers.

#pj parties #text #Ray please mesaage me if youre comfy with that bc I can provide a more personal view if you want! #I tried to be general here tho and speak for myself #I have an extremely severe case of ocd so I def feel for anyone with similar stuff #even if they dont have actual ocd. I'm still here for yall #add tags

[athingofvikings]

Chapter 7: A-Viking

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Chapter 7: A-Viking

Burh—Old English fortified settlement or fortification, as a response to the threat of Viking raids of the 8th to 11th centuries. Conceived of as a network of forts containing detachments of local defense militia and roads (known as herepaths) connecting them, they were intended to act as a place to shelter the populace against Viking attack, as well as allowing the English forces to concentrate quickly in the event of a raid or invasion.  Until the 1040s, and the domestication of dragons by the Norse, the burh and herepath system was notably effective in repulsing Viking raids.

—A History Of Old England, 1451, Oxford Press

 Snotlout gripped Hookfang's horns, his palms sweaty as his heart pounded with nervousness.  Several other dragons with their riders were flying in formation with him, heading south. The stars overhead glowed, the springtime constellations marching across the heavens from over the mainland to their left, the moon beginning to wane to its last quarter.

Back in Berk, he and several of his father's cronies had hatched this plan; they weren't going to raid cattle from other Viking tribes in the highlands.  Stoick had been right on that count—stealing from other Vikings using dragons was bad form, even by Snotlout's standards.  

But he hadn't said anything about raiding from the Christian Saxon lords to the south, and, besides, those lords were a better test of their Viking prowess and thus a better road to earning glory.  After all, Hiccup was now off doing a raid—sorta—against the Christians who had attacked Fishlegs.  

The fact that they would have richer loot was also a nice side benefit.  Snotlout, in particular, was hoping to steal enough from the followers of the Cross to be able to pay off the geld for Hookfang.  His father had made it very clear that Hookfang was now a walking coffer against any drains on the clan's needs after the disastrous raid back before Yule. Even Snotlout had understood that if he cost the clan any coin or herds, his father would sell Hookfang to make up the cost.  

And a dragon, he had found, was expensive.  

He had taken to helping with the winter fishing, just to be able to keep his friend fed, scared that if Hookfang started eating too much of the Jorgensons' fish, his father would sell him.  

But it wasn't enough to be able to build up enough coin in his coffer to be able to buy Hookfang back if his father did sell him, or to pay off any major costs that he might get hit with.  And then there was the matter of a bride price…  

He was pretty sure that his father would be willing to put up some of the offer when he found someone worthwhile.  Pretty sure. But it would have to be a pretty impressive offer, probably for someone from outside Berk, because most of the girls that might be acceptable for him were already taken.  

An alliance with the Hofferson clan was definitely no longer an option, unless Hiccup managed to stick his other foot in his mouth and chew it off in front of Astrid.  Sure, with the dragons now, and his father's position, he was a good catch for anyone looking for an alliance with the Hooligans.  But, with Hiccup no longer being "the Useless," he was almost certainly going to be the next chief.  Which meant that Snotlout probably wasn't.  Which meant that he wasn't as good an offer as he had been last year.  

It was so infuriating! A year ago, Hiccup had been the village idiot, even compared to Bucket, who walked around with an actual literal bucket on his head!  Snotlout and his father had been certain that Stoick would have no choice but to anoint Snotlout as the next chief, between Snotlout being Stoick's nephew and Hiccup being widely reviled.  Hiccup wasn't strong, wasn't battle-hardened, wasn't a dragon-killer, wasn't anything other than a mistake, and Snotlout would have been chief one day.  

And now, Hiccup had it all. He had the hot girlfriend from a respected warrior clan, the best dragon, war wounds to brag about, his own saga, for Bragi's sake!, the respect of the tribe, an entire flock of dragons, and a lock on the succession for being the next chief!  He had even taken away Snotlout's streak of Thawfest victories, denying him a perfect record, which had infuriated his father to no end.

All Snotlout had were debts and his dragon.  He had no position, no woman, no glory, no wealth.  He had barely merited even a mention in Chestnut's saga!  His name, and the fact that he was the first one to fall off his dragon!  Chestnut hadn't even mentioned the fact that he was the only one to actually physically hit the Green Death, and in the eyes, no less! With a hammer!  Eighty feet above the ground!  Hadn't Astrid said that he was a real Viking when he had done that!?

But, no, Hiccup had gotten all the glory.

He scowled.  

So now he was going the traditional route.  For three hundred years, the Vikings had been sailing and raiding through these Isles. Twenty years ago, a Viking lord of the Danes had even conquered much of the Anglo-Saxons, King Cnut.  So now they were just continuing tradition—glory in battle, wealth through conquest, honor through arms.  

But instead of sailing in the traditional longboats, they were riding on dragons.  

And that was thanks to Hiccup.

Snotlout sneered.  

Fritjof, one of the other riders and his father's best friend, was signaling for them to descend. The raiding party quickly circled and landed, with varying degrees of skill.  Snotlout landed the smoothest of all of them, which was great, because it meant that he could point and laugh at the ones who managed to get themselves stuck in trees or other indignities.  

In the wan light of the pale moon and a fluttering candle, they assembled, twenty men and shieldmaids with their beasts—Nightmares, Nadders, Whispering Deaths, Zipplebacks. Fritjof had found a flat rock and unrolled his chart upon it as they gathered round.  "I be more used to seeing these places from the waters below, but I recognize this place, which puts us here."  He tapped the chart with the tip of his dagger, indicating a spot right before the sea took a turn to the east.  "Here be the prize."  He slid his dagger to the east, indicating a spot where the two coastlines met and rivers poured into the sea.

"Brycgstow.  It be a burh, by a river and bridge." He grinned.  "They built it against us, and every crack at it that we've tried has failed.  But, before, we had no dragons, just longships."  There were jocular mutters around the group, anticipating a glorious cheat where the rules of the game changed.  Fritjof waited for them to quiet before continuing.  "Inside be a mint, striking silver pennies for Harthacnut the Dane, and his half-brother Harold Harefoot before him, plus Christian traders who have sworn to never exchange coin with those who still follow the All-Father's wisdom."

There were appreciative jests this time; not everyone had been told the target before they left Berk, and the idea of silver pennies, and the bullion from which they were struck, was well received all around.  Add to that the opportunity to strike a blow for Odin and Thor, and there was much excitement.  

"Inside, they have men a-horsed, ready to ride out against any raiding party, and signal fires all along the coast here."  He swept down the south coast of the narrow leg of the sea with his dagger.  "When they see us coming, the farmers and herders will all retreat to the nearest burh.  We don't want that.  So we fly under cover of night, and strike at dawn, fly over the walls, hit the mint, best the horsemen, and fly away with silver and any loot that might be in the trading post, before the burh can be reinforced."  He grinned.  "And then back home, with coin in our purses.  Either over the moor and fen, or over the sea, depending on how we go.  If anyone gets separated," he slid his dagger up the chart to the north, "we will meet here on the morrow," he said, indicating a spot where the coast shifted from east-west to north-south.  "There be a river here, named the Meresey.  There be a bit that sticks out the sea to the west of it; we meet at the headlands to the sea.  The King of the Scots is nearby, here," he pointed on the map, "and he be a canny man, so probably best to avoid for now."

He looked up around the group.  "Be there any questions?"

There were negative shakes of the head and anticipatory grins.  

"Then let us go," he said.  He turned to Snotlout.  "Boy, we follow you and your father.  You take the lead and the glory.  We follow your ax and shield into battle.  Will you bless us on behalf of the All-Father before we may find ourselves in his hall?"

Snotlout felt himself smile widely.  Now this was the kind of respect he was talking about!

###

Lunch's remains were lying on the table in front of him, and Hiccup sat back in his chair, feeling quite full.  Astrid was lying bonelessly in the big chair across the table from him, another cleaned plate in front of her, a clean rag draped over the arm of the chair.  On the floor next to him, Toothless looked up at him expectantly.  With a sigh and a smile, Hiccup put back on the thick leather glove that he'd made yesterday and started rubbing at his friend's back again. Lunch was over, and it was time to get back to work. Toothless moaned with deep appreciation, even as Hiccup's arms burned.  

The glossy black hide had gone pale and matte, and was flaking off in pieces, to reveal shiny and new scales beneath.  And that was pretty nifty.  Except for the part where it pretty obviously itched horribly, as his friend had been scratching himself against trees, houses, boulders, and Hiccup for two days. Stormfly wasn't much better, and the vain dragon had kept Astrid working full time at helping her clean off her old scales and polish up the new ones.  

And the wild flock of dragons that were officially his family's had found that they really appreciated human hands right now.  

Mostly Hiccup's.  Or at least it felt like it.  His fingertips felt like he had left them up against the grindstone for an afternoon.

But it had been worth it. Hundreds of dragons all shedding scales together resulted in an absolutely enormous mound of pale dragon skin. Even sorted by type, he'd been impressed by the sheer quantity.

Hiccup had experimented with the shed scales, and found that they were just as fireproof as they had been before.  The shedding Gronckles, in particular, were sloughing off pieces that were as thick as leather, and he was wondering if it could be cured like other hides.  

Astrid lifted her head limply and moaned at him. "Each time another one flaked off, I had to polish the whole dragon again…  she's so demanding…"  Stormfly was snoozing in the space behind her rider's chair, her scales at a high gloss.

He managed a wan smile. "Sorry, milady.  I'd offer to help, but I have a few dozen other Nadders wanting my attention right now."

She snorted, and moved like she was going to get up out of the chair to hit him, but sagged back down after a moment.  "Consider yourself punched."

"Ow," he said with a goofy grin.  

"So there. That's for laughing at me," she said tiredly.  Pulling herself forward out of the chair, she slumped to her feet and staggered around the table before plopping down in front of Hiccup's chair.  Grabbing his hand that wasn't occupied with scratching Toothless's back, she pulled his fingertips to her head.  "And that's for everything else."  

Grinning a bit, Hiccup started running his fingertips through her hair, massaging her scalp, which made her give an appreciative, if tired, moan.  The washerwoman, Embla Thorston, poked her head in their direction, and, having made certain that they were maintaining innocent contact, went back to making sure that the chief's house was in acceptable condition.  

Hiccup sighed tiredly and ran his sore fingertips over Astrid's head, making her sigh in appreciation. That made the soreness worth it, and he relished the feel of her head against his leg.  On some level, he was glad that they were being watched all of the time.  Not when some wild bits of Hiccup's mind were urging him to touch her on places lower than her scalp.  

Much lower.

But he'd overheard her aunt's lecture to her after Thawfest.  Astrid had forgotten or dropped the victory medallion and he'd gone after her to give it back to her… and he'd overheard her aunt lecture her about how 'men are all alike'… and how she needed to keep 'proper decorum.'

As if it wasn't his responsibility, too.

Since getting back from Vedrarfjord a few days ago, he'd been stewing on it, the tedious work of helping the shedding dragons giving him lots of time to think about how badly things could go for her if they slipped up and made her look… unchaste.  It wasn't like he didn't have vast personal experience with how the tribe would treat someone that 'broke the rules.'  And she didn't have the protection of being the Chief's Son.  For Freyja's sake, he'd seen what could happen to a girl who wasn't careful; Hazelnut had ended up challenging Dogsbreath to a holmgang for what he'd said about her a few years back. And the whispers had only died down after she'd married that freedman, Aodh.

Just because Astrid could break him like a twig didn't mean that he couldn't hurt her… and he'd rather fall on a sword than do that.  But that didn't mean that he couldn't do it by accident.  There was already gossip… a thought that made him swallow hard, his heart and chest clenching at the idea of what they might be saying.  He'd seen her furious many times.  He never wanted to see her in the sort of pain that Hazelnut had been in the day she'd sat in this very chair and wept to his dad about what was being said about her.  

But… well… he wanted her. Wanted her terribly badly.  He had dreams that he woke up from, with his heart pounding and and feeling utterly frustrated at having woken up right then, and she was present in all of them.  

But he'd also gladly let Nidhogg snack on his entrails before he harmed her.

And if that meant being a little… okay, really, really, really frustrated, then he'd deal with that.  

And if being Proper and everything was the way of doing that, then he'd do that.

Which was why he was glad that they were being chaperoned at the moment.  

After a few minutes of them resting—well, Astrid resting, and Hiccup massaging her scalp and Toothless's back, Fishlegs walked in, holding some books and looking far too chipper.

"So, I looked through my books and…" he took in the scene in front of him and paused. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

Astrid vaguely waved an arm in the direction of the other chair.  "Nah. Come in.  Take a seat," she managed to say.  

Fishlegs, after looking at Hiccup for assent, shrugged and took the seat that Astrid had just vacated. He plopped a few books onto the table and immediately started opening them up and digging through them.

"So there was nothing in the old Book of Dragons about this," he said, "So I had to look through one of the Naturalis Historia books that I got from Johann a few years back."  He picked up one book that looked a touch worn and weatherbeaten.  "This was originally from one of those old Romans from a thousand years ago, although I think this copy was from the Greeks, and I did find a reference to dragons shedding their old scales in here.  According to Pliny, it's natural, and lasts about a week in the spring.  Apparently dragons in the wild will eat their old scales, which sounds gross."

"A week?" Astrid squeaked.  "It's been two days so far and I'm already starting to fall apart."

Hiccup just moaned, imagining a week of this.  There had to be a better way to handle it, because his fingers weren't going to last much longer.  

Fishlegs just continued on, undeterred.  "But, yeah, it's completely natural, just like those teeth that they shed and replace.  They're not sick or diseased or starving or anything."

"Oh, good," Hiccup said, leaning back in his chair.  "Because that's been the second most tiring part of this whole thing. In between helping dragons peel off dead scales, just about everyone has been asking me what's wrong with their dragon, if one of the visitors poisoned them or gave them a pox during Thawfest last week."  He groaned. "Even Mildew, although I think he was more hoping than worried, you know?"

Astrid groaned. "Are you sure I can't challenge him to a duel?"

"You need a reason, love."

"I could find one. Isn't being an obnoxious and nasty old man against the rules somewhere?"

Fishlegs shook his head and gave a tiny smirk.  "If it were, most of the clan leaders would be in violation."

Hiccup snorted. Fishlegs' great-aunt was the only woman of the five clan leaders.

Astrid sighed and just leaned back against Hiccup's legs, appreciating his touch with her eyes closed. "Hiccup, you're the genius. Can't you build something that will help with getting those dead scales off them?"

He gave a short sharp laugh. "I've been thinking, but it's going to be tricky to build.  The best thing to make it out of would be dragonhide, and while we've got plenty of that right now, it's not in the best condition."  Toothless rolled over onto his belly, demanding more scritches, and Hiccup complied. "I'll definitely have something for next year, but the best idea I've had so far is a leather-covered pole or arch, padded with grass or something on the inside, for them to rub up against.  It has to be firm but also soft, so it doesn't damage the soft new scales underneath."  He sighed. "And I'd still have to make it."

Fishlegs said, "And if you made it out of leather, any dragons with rigid spines on it—like a Nadder—would just tear up the leather as they rubbed against… do you hear something?"

Hiccup looked towards the door.  "Is that cheering?"

"I think so," Fishlegs said, standing.  He started towards the door, and then looked back at the groaning couple trying to extricate themselves from their seat.  "Uh, should I go look and come back?"

"Could you?" Hiccup said.  "Because that would be great."  Astrid just nodded numbly.  

The door opened and shut, and the two of them just looked at each other tiredly.  

"Hiccup?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you make that rubbing post if I help?"

"Probably."

"Good."  Her head slumped back against his knee. "Any other ideas?"

"Well, a pitchfork that's been blunted and bent, and then padded with leather to work as a backscratcher was another one…"

She gave a tired chuckle. "Now there's an image."

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, Toothless's tail wrapped around Astrid's lap, Hiccup stroking her hair and Toothless's belly.

Then the door opened again, and Fishlegs walked back in, looking worried and angry.

"Hiccup?"

"Yeah, Fishlegs?" Hiccup replied tiredly.

"There's a problem."

"Can it wait?"

"Uh… Snotlout and about twenty thanes just got back from going a-viking on their dragons, and they have saddlebags full of loot."

"What!?"

Hiccup and Astrid dragged themselves to their feet, and, sensing the tension and sudden lack of belly rubs, Toothless rolled over and looked at his friends.  

Darting outside, the three teens and two dragons raced down the side of the hill; despite his exhaustion, Hiccup only stumbled twice on the stairs.  

In the village commons, there was Snotlout and Hookfang and the rest of their raiding party.  Their age-mate was holding aloft bars of silver from the bag at his feet, his clothing covered in soot and dried blood, while Hookfang was just looking tired and itchy behind him, burying his jaws into the giant urn of fish.  A crowd had gathered and there was cheering as more loot came up out of the bags of the victorious Vikings.  

"Where's your dad?" Astrid asked as they walked as quickly as they could manage.

"Out on Thornado somewhere, I think."

They hopped down the next stairs as quickly as they could, Astrid helping Hiccup as he stumbled, Fishlegs moving on ahead.

"What's going on here?" Hiccup shouted as he pushed forward into the crowd.

"Oh, hi Hiccup," Snotlout said with a sneer.  "I was just showing what an absolutely awesome Viking I am.  Sure, I didn't take down the Green Death—I just helped—but I'm doing my part to ensure that our tribe is prosperous." He kicked over the saddlebag in front of him, which poured out silver coins mixed with other odd bits of loot.  Hiccup could see bronze discs, what looked like a piece of embroidered linen or silk, a necklace with an odd pendant on it—a gold cross with a carved ivory statuette of a man crucified on it—and an iron coffer the size of a person's doubled fists,  as well as several small sacks whose pungent smells Hiccup could practically taste from where he stood.  

Snotlout jumped on top of the bench to address the crowd.  "I am a Viking!  My men and I did what Vikings do!  We went out a-viking, to prove our valor in the eyes of All-Father Odin, our courage in the eyes of Thor, our bravery before Freyja!  We met outsiders in combat, ax to sword, shield to shield, and we vanquished them!  We tore down walls built to keep us out!  We took from those whose valor was weak so that our families may grow stronger!  We showed that the age of vikings has not yet passed, but has been born anew!  The age of the longboat is over, and the age of the dragon rider has begun!"

Hiccup yelled, "No!" and the crowd looked at him.  "Haven't we had enough of blood and fire!?  They are our friends, not our weapons!"

"Why can't they be both, cousin?  We are Vikings.  They are dragons.  We both have shown that we can take from the weak to feed ourselves.  What part of being a Viking can a dragon not also be a part of?"  Snotlout turned to the crowd.  "We have been raided for years by the dragons.  We know their strength, we know their skill, we know their cunning!  These are Viking virtues!  They are every bit as much honored in the halls of Valhalla as we!  Why not join forces with our former enemies, to show the world once again what it means to be a Viking!?"

Parts of the crowd were cheering, and Hiccup could see why—Snotlout had turned what were once Berk's greatest enemies into their greatest weapon.  Those same people were casting ugly looks at Hiccup, and greedy looks at Snotlout's spilled saddlebags, and at the stuffed saddlebags of the rest of his party.  Hiccup looked at the rest of Snotlout's raiders, who were flanking the flushed victor, showing their support, and scowling at the scrawnier boy.  

His hands balled into fists. "Snotlout, you idiot…!" he got out.  

Snotlout roared back. "No!  Today, I am a Viking!  Our home is stronger by what we did!  We proved our strength to Odin, ourselves, and the world!"  He turned around in a circle as he addressed the crowd from atop his bench, a crowd which continued to grow.  "Twenty Vikings took yesterday something that a thousand Vikings had failed to take before!  The Vikings of Berk know dragons!  The world does not!"  He pumped his ax into the air to cheers.  "Let them build their river chains to block our ships!  Let them build walls to block our axes!  We shall fly over them!"

He turned to Hiccup. "We owe my cousin a great debt!"  Hiccup blinked in surprise, and then realized where Snotlout was going, too late to stop him. "But he is not a Viking warrior! He is a skald, a scholar!  We owe him honor for ending the dragon raids and vanquishing the Green Death, for certain!  But his way brings no honor, brings no coin, brings no valor!  We are not being diminished any more, but what has his way added to us!?  His way would bar the doors to Valhalla!  He would end us with his saga, so that none will exceed him!"

"That's not true!" Hiccup tried to interject as the crowd jeered.

"Then what have you done for us that will give us glory!?" Snotlout roared back.

Hiccup just looked at his cousin, and felt his face harden.  "What, riding dragons isn't enough?" He gritted his teeth and shouted back, "If riding dragons and seeing the sky beneath you like the wings of a Valkyrie isn't enough glory for you, then I'll think—"

"Yes, you'll think, cousin!  And the rest of us will do, while you think."

Hiccup gave a cry of utter frustration, turned and marched away.  As he turned, he saw Astrid giving Snotlout a poisonous glare before turning to follow him.  

Behind them, Snotlout continued to show his loot to the assembled crowd, who continued to cheer.

As they walked away, they both could see Spitelout standing nearby, on the lip of the nearby hill overlooking his son's triumph.  He had his arms crossed and a look of supreme satisfaction on his face, his Terrible Terror sitting on his shoulder.  

As Hiccup wordlessly saddled Toothless and then hopped onto his back, Astrid did the same with Stormfly, and he and his girlfriend took off.  Before they could get too far, though, Fishlegs came flying up and, stammering, said that he'd been assigned as their chaperon.

Hiccup just nodded, still remembering the look of sneering triumph on his cousin's face… and flew on, his two friends trading worried looks behind him.

###

As they landed at the cove, Astrid dismounted off of Stormfly; Hiccup had already stormily jumped off of Toothless's back, and was standing at the edge of the pond, his shoulders hunched in… fury?  Sadness? She couldn't tell.  She started towards him, her arms out, and suddenly Toothless was standing in between them, a scowl with narrowed pupils on his face, and raised his wing between her and her boyfriend.  

She just looked at the dragon incredulously, and silently mouthed at him Are you serious?  

Toothless cocked his head and then made a tossing motion with his nose, pointing away.

She crossed her arms and scowled at the dragon and then made to move around him.

He shifted slightly and shook his head again.  He wasn't being threatening, but his attitude was unmistakable—no, she couldn't go to Hiccup.

She gave the dragon a scowl of her own and just stared at him for a long moment.  Finally, after that failed to budge him, she walked off a bit, but not before mouthing Fine! at the dragon.

Behind her, Fishlegs was looking at the whole thing with an expression somewhere between interest and embarrassment; he had an awkward half-smile on his face and his shoulders were hunched, but his eyes were looking at her and Toothless with curiosity.

Giving Hiccup his Toothless-demanded distance, she walked to the boulder where she'd sat and surprised Hiccup last autumn, and settled down onto the rock, it feeling chilly even through her clothes.  Stormfly walked over and curled herself up at the base of the stone after circling around a few times, apparently blithely unconcerned with what was going on.  

After a moment, she glanced at Hiccup.  He was now half-heartedly trying to skip rocks across the water.  Toothless was nearby, his tail twitching back and forth intently.

"So… um…" Fishlegs started to say.  

She gave him a glance and a shake of the head.

He quieted down, and went to Meatlug's saddlebag.  After rummaging for a moment, he pulled out a journal and a charcoal stick, and settled down next to his dragon.  For a time, the sound of his charcoal scraping the journal's pages and the rocks failing to skip across the water were the only noises in the cove.

After the dozenth rock with only two skips, she spoke to the air, addressing no one in particular, "Y'know, if Snotlout is really being that much of a traditionalist, I could call him out to the holmgang for an ass-kicking."

Fishlegs looked up and said, "But what insult could you claim to issue the challenge?  He didn't break any of the laws—Hiccup and Stoick haven't really written any yet regarding the dragons."

Astrid heaved herself to a sitting position.  Despite the fatigue in her bones from having to polish Stormfly over and over again for the last two days, she still had enough presence to just look at Fishlegs with a level expression that communicated her utter lack of concern for such legalities.  

"Okaaaay then," he said.  He looked up. "Tell you what," he said, heaving himself onto Meatlug's saddle, "I'll go back and keep an eye on things, make sure there isn't a problem and Snotlout's not intending to proclaim himself chief or something like that.  You two…" he gestured vaguely to Hiccup and Astrid, "well, you stay here and… talk about whatever it is you're going to talk about. But at the very least, I'll be your eyes and ears back there.  Okay?"

Astrid nodded. "That sounds like a great idea," she said sincerely.  "Thanks, 'legs."

The burly teen nodded. "Hey, it's the least I can do."  He bent down to Meatlug.  "Come on girl, let's go back home."

The nearly-equally-sized pair took flight.  Astrid pondered for a moment whether Fishlegs had forgotten that he was supposed to be their chaperon, or if he was giving them space on purpose.  As they flew out of sight, the cove was quiet again, save for the sound of Hiccup's poor attempts at rock skipping.  

Astrid just watched him for a few moments and three or four rocks, then her eyes narrowed.

Sliding off of the rock, she looked at Toothless for permission.  He cocked his head, and then nodded mournfully.  Stepping closer, she said, softly, "No wonder you're doing so terribly with those."

"Hmm?" Hiccup said distractedly.

"It's no wonder that you haven't had more than three skips since we got here," she said, gently catching his right wrist as he cocked it to throw another stone. "You're left-handed."

He pulled away and threw the stone.  It sank without skipping.

Throwing up his hands, he looked up at the sky, saying, "Come on!"

"Hiccup…" she said softly, "talk to me."

He turned to her and waved his arms wildly.

"Snotlout's right! I'm no Viking!  I can't fight, I can't lift an ax, I can't kill a dragon—"

"That last one's not true," she interjected.  "Or does the Green Death not count?"

He waved vaguely and dismissively. "Argh!  We're still Vikings here in Berk." He pointed to her ax in Stormfly's saddle holster.  "You're more of a Viking than I am!  And look what your first idea was to solve the problem! The same as his!  An ax!  A duel! A fight to show who is stronger! Not who is smarter, or wiser, but who can hit the other guy harder!"

She opened her mouth to object midway through and then closed it slowly.  

"I… I… oh."

He laughed bitterly. "Yeah.  Oh.  And if I or my friends start using the dueling ring to settle scores, how long do you think it'll be before I'm the one challenged?"  He waved at his false foot.  "Even without this, let's face it, Astrid—all I am in the holmgang is a pair of messy breeches waiting to happen."

He sagged to the ground. "And I don't want to fight.  Oh, if I have to, I will, preferably with Toothless," who looked up at the pair of them, clearly worried for his friend's stress, "but without him… yeah…"

Astrid grimaced and sat down next to him.

After a moment, he leaned up against her.  "I don't know what to do, Astrid.  I thought… I hoped that this could be a new way, a way that I could fit into… better.  Like… like… like I didn't have to be a square dowel in a round drill hole! Instead," he sighed, "Instead, I've just made an improved old way, where I won't fit.  I can't."  He turned and looked at her.  "You saw them cheering."

"Yeah, and they were all Jorgenson cronies," she said.  "Or did you miss that?  Out of a village of over six hundred, Snotlout only got maybe fifty or sixty, counting the thanes that he took with him, to cheer for him, and most of those were people he was related to."  

"I…" he paused, and then continued, sounding sheepish.  "I didn't notice."

"Yeah, well, you were busy trying to deal with Snotlout on a victory high.  But out of that whole crowd, not all of them were cheering.  A bunch of them were looking at Snotlout like he had some contagious new disease, or were looking to see what the commotion was about." She crossed her arms.  "Also, he didn't sound like Snotlout, you know what I mean?"

Hiccup blinked and shook his head.  "Explain?"

She looked upwards in thought and chewed on her lip.  "Um… he… he sounded like he was giving a speech?  Like he had practiced it?  And maybe someone had given him suggestions?"

Hiccup just looked at her sourly.  "Like he'd planned for that?"

She nodded.

He sighed. "Thank you for summing that all up."

Reaching out, she patted him on the shoulder.  "Hiccup. You've been working yourself to the bone for the last two days, walked into an argument like that with no warning, and you're blaming yourself?"  She shook her head.  "Nuh uh. You don't get to blame yourself for this one."

He sagged again, and she sighed.  

"Hiccup.  So Snotlout went out a-viking.  The Jorgensons are going to be crowing and boasting about what they've done, and they're going to want to do it again." She hugged him.  "And we both know why they put Snotlout in charge."  Because Snotlout had been the only acceptable heir to the tribe, being Stoick's nephew, and Hiccup being the screwup… until last autumn.  

He sighed, turned his head, and kissed her cheek.  "Yeah."  He grimaced. "I… I hadn't even really thought about it!  Not until now!  I don't want to be chief!  Dad always insisted on me learning, but…"  he trailed off.  "But…"

She let him out of the hug and patted him on the shoulder.  "But… you never expected to actually have the responsibility. Didn't you?"

He nodded.  "But… well… you heard what Snotlout said.  If I don't… if I just step out of the way, the Jorgensons will just use the dragons like weapons."

"So you have to stop them," she said, a slight smile on her face.  "You can do it."

"Can I?" he asked bitterly.

She gave him a nod. "Well, if you don't even try, then you can't.  But if you do that, all of those ideas you have will just go to waste."

He sagged against her. "Thanks."

"No problem. Happy to serve," she said with a sarcastic smirk.  

Speaking softly, he said, "I just want to ride Toothless, spend time with you, make things, and not have to worry about whether we'll live through tomorrow.  I didn't want this."

She smiled wanly, and leaned in.  "I want to ride Stormfly to the horizon and see what's there, see those far off places on Johann's charts.  I want to fly through the sky with you," she said, giving his chest a solid poke, "and show anyone who thinks I'm just a girl that that doesn't mean anything when it comes to skill.  And I'll get what I can of that.  But saying that you can't have what you want because the Norns decided to throw some obstacles in your path…" she shrugged.  "I remember a guy who wanted to be a Viking so bad that he created crazy war machines to try to prove himself to the village."  She poked him in the chest again.  "I'd like him back please.  You'll get what you want, but you'll have to work for it, just like you did before."

He smiled lightly. "Sounds good to me."  He sighed again.  "I just feel… like Hiccup the Useless again."

"I…" she looked at him, speechless.  Then, after a moment, she sat up and looked at Toothless, who gave her a quizzical look.

Holding a warding hand up in front of the dragon, she cocked her head at Toothless.  He looked back at her quizzically and then seemed to realize that she was asking for permission.  He tilted his head and then nodded back with a go ahead air.

Then she bent down and picked Hiccup up by his collar and armpit.  

He choked before he managed to get his feet under him, and, with Toothless looking at her with an utterly baffled expression that she had no trouble with reading as What on Midgard are you doing?, she heaved and tossed her boyfriend into the cove's pond.

Given that it had been frozen over just a month or so ago, it was still reasonably chilly, and he had a brief moment to see the water rise up before him before his scream of surprise cut off with a splash.

Her form wasn't very good. While she was good at throwing things, he was much heavier and much more wriggly than an ax, it was a two-handed throw, and her muscles were screaming at her from two days of polishing Stormfly. Still, it was a good enough throw that his foot and peg cleared the edge of the pond completely.  

In her own critical judgment, in the newly created sport of Moping Boyfriend Dunking, she probably only deserved a three out of nine, maybe a four, with points mostly added for style and surprise.  

Toothless just stared at her, eyes wide, while she kept a close watch on Hiccup to make sure that he wasn't about to have a repeat of his drowning experiences.  Once was enough.  

Sputtering, Hiccup broke the surface a moment later, looking much more lively.

Once they both saw that Hiccup was okay, Toothless burst out in his laugh-chortle, and rolled on his belly, although that might have been more for scratching at an itch.

Bending down as her boyfriend spat out water and obscenities, Astrid said in a sickly-sweet tone, "That's for moping around."  She grabbed him by the collar again and pulled him into a bruising kiss.  After a brief hesitation, he melted into it, wrapping his soaking wet arms around her.

After her lungs started to burn from lack of air, she broke the kiss.  He looked a trifle dazed.  And very wet. But much warmer than he had been when they had been dunked into her father's new millpond two months previously.

"And that's for being the person that you are.  You are a good, kind, and decent person, and I'm sorry that I never saw past the disasters to see that before.  I was an idiot.  But you're not 'Hiccup the Useless' anymore."  She leaned in close until their foreheads were touching. "I won't let you be that anymore."

His eyes grew extremely wide.

"So.  Now that you're done moping," she said sweetly, "what are you going to do about all of this?"

"Well…" he said trailing off, and then his eyes darted downwards for a moment, and he tightened his embrace around her, "First, there's… this."

Holding on tightly to her, he overbalanced deliberately, and she felt herself slip on the muddy bank and tip over.

Into the shockingly cold pond.

"Hiccuuuuuup!" was all she had time to shout before they hit the water with a splash.

It was cold.

A moment later, they were both splashing out of the water, shivering and laughing.  

"I deserved that," she said as she splashed to the edge of the pond, face red from the cold and laughter.  "But if you do that again, I'm going to make you pay!"

Stormfly and Toothless were just giving each other confused looks.  She smirked at them, imagining them as drawn by Hiccup for the new dragon book, subtitled with Human mating dances are weird.

Hiccup just gave her a grin. "Fine by me."  He looked at his muddied clothing and sighed. "Umm… lets go and get ourselves cleaned up?"

"And warmed up," she said, as a slight breeze set her teeth to chattering.  

He nodded with a smirk and she gave him a punch, followed by a kiss, and they quickly set to gathering deadwood for a fire to warm themselves.  Once they saw the two of them working at gathering wood, the dragons helped drag over logs and branches.

Once the fire was lit, they sat huddled next to each other in front of the fire, shivering.  They had taken the saddle-blankets out from under the dragons' saddles, but they were small and barely adequate to keep them warm.

"You all right?" she asked him.  

He nodded.  "It's not as bad as it was that other time." He shrugged and a massive shiver rippled across his body.  "Still not fun, though."

"Same here," she said, her teeth still chattering.

"Um… Astrid?" he said hesitantly after another minute.

"Yes?" she asked, leaning up against him as Toothless brought over another log and added it to the fire, looking at the pair of them worriedly.  Stormfly was curled up behind them, trying to share her body heat.  

"Uh… so, don't take this the wrong way… but… uh…"

"Hiccup.  Spit out out," she said crossly as another shiver hit her.

"We need to get out of these wet clothes if we want to warm up," he said in a rush.

She snorted a laugh. "Oh, so that's your scheme?"

"I—no, that wasn't—I—you threw me in first!"  

She smirked and patted his cheek.  "Hiccup. I was joking.  You're not Snotlout."

He grimaced at that, and shifted uncomfortably.  "I just… well…"  He then looked around and his eyes grew very wide.  "Oh crap, we're unchaperoned!"  He started to awkwardly get to his feet, complicated by the fact that she was half-lying on him.

She laughed. "You just noticed that?  Wow, you really were moping."

"It's not funny, Astrid!  I don't want you getting your reputation ruined!"

"Huh?"

Hiccup had managed to unwedge himself out from under her with his wriggling.  "Back during Thawfest, remember that you forgot your victory medallion?"

"Yeah, you gave it to me the next morning at breakfast," she said, confused at the change in topic.  She caught hold of the back of his shirt and started dragging him back down under the blanket.  His clothing was still soaked through, and he was visibly shivering.

"Well, I—can you let go?—I actually followed you to give it back to you, and I overheard your aunt—"

Astrid groaned and yanked Hiccup back down.  He sat with a thump.  "Is that why you've been so awkward the last few days?!" she demanded.  

"I… um… I didn't want—"

"Hiccup!  We promised to talk to each other about this kind of thing!  Partners, remember!? Here I've been wondering why you've been so very careful to keep around chaperons and out in public, even when it's been aggravating you like Loki's jokes to have to deal with everyone's questions about the dragons shedding, and we've had several perfect chances to sneak off somewhere!"

"But she said that they were already gossipin—"

"Oh, to Hel with the gossip!  I want my boyfriend!  Do you really think that those rumors have anything to do with what we're actually doing!? Trust me, you could be the perfect traditional suitor, and they'd still be swapping tales about how I'm some kind of wanton woman and giggling about it!"

He just looked at her, stunned.  "Are… are you mad at me?"

She scowled at him and then huffed, arms crossed.  "I'm actually angry that you didn't talk to me about it.  You just decided on your own how this was going to go.  And you.  Promised."

He made an inarticulate noise that sounded like he tried to both apologize and protest at the same time, and then sagged.  "I'm… I'm sorry, Astrid.  Do you forgive me?"

She turned and looked at him, eyebrows together and eyes narrowed in irritation. "Maybe.  First, do you understand why I'm upset?"

He nodded apologetically. "Because… because I didn't treat you as a partner, but… made the choice for you."

"That's right."

"I'm sorry," he said, head bowed.

She sighed. "Hiccup.  First… I accept your apology.  Second… okay… it's sweet that you were that concerned.  I appreciate the thought… if not the way that you did it.  And third…" she smiled and pulled her naalbound shirt off. The linens she was wearing under it were still soaked and stuck to her skin, and, while she was still fully clothed… there was no question that Hiccup could see everything through the wet fabric.

She heard him swallow.

"So, shirts and stuff off.  We still need to dry off and warm up," she said bluntly.  "You said it, and I agree."  As he followed suit, she did her best to remain composed and serene… even as her pulse pounded in her ears and her mouth felt dry.  

She took a moment and put her shirt, his tunic, her pteruges, their boots, and both of their trousers out by the fire to dry; Hiccup took a moment, carefully not looking at her, and used some sticks to prop them up to dry faster.

That done, she looked at him from where they were sitting a few feet apart near the fire, both dressed only in their soaked linen undergarments, and said, "So.  Right now, let's see… who knows about this place? You, me, and Fishlegs?"

He nodded.

"And if someone comes flying on by—unlikely, with all of the dragons demanding attention back at the village—we're already in a 'compromising' situation here."

She heard him swallow again.

"So.  If you tell me that you're completely happy just sitting with me next to the fire like this, I'll… well, I won't be happy, but I'll accept that.  But the consequence of 'gossip' just got tossed in the midden pit.  So I want you to look at me and tell me what you want to do with me right now, and how far you want to go, and I'll accept that."  She leaned in.  "But this is our first chance we've had—ever—out from under the chaperons.  And I want an honest answer—not one that you're just saying to make the gossip-mongers happy.  And I'll give you the same honesty.  Okay?"

He nodded mutely. "I… I… gods, Astrid, I want you.  I…" he licked his lips, which she could see were dry.  "I have dreams about us…"

She smirked. "Oh, good.  I have those too."

He blinked at that. "I… uh… really?"

She nodded, smiling. "Oh, gods, yes.  Shall we compare them later?"  She winked.

He choked and then started to giggle slightly.  "Umh… uhbuhubuh…" he babbled.

"You don't say," she said, her smirk growing.  

"I… uh… you… how far?"  He shook his head to clear it.  "Umm… you said that you don't care about the gossip."

She shook her head. "What are they going to say? That I'm sleeping with my boyfriend, the Hero and Chief's heir?  If any of them did, I'd just tell them that I wish, but that you're a great kisser, and that I'm looking forward to it."

"I… um… okay." He looked at her, eyes wide. "I'm a great kisser?"

"Mind you, I don't exactly have a great deal of experience there myself—okay, none at all aside from you—but I have no complaints," she said with a smirk and a heartfelt nod.  "So… on that note… Hiccup."  She put her hand on his.  "I know that this isn't a joke to you.  So I'm going to ask, straight up.  We have privacy.  Are we going to use it for anything more than talking and kissing, or not? "

"Umm… uh…" he stammered and then swallowed hard.  "No?  Yes? Wait, huh, umm… Not.  Uh…"  His tongue was thoroughly tied as he stared at her.  Despite herself, she snickered.  

He blinked and refocused his eyes, which had been wandering all over her, back to her face, and managed to say, in a firm tone that was honestly impressive under the circumstances,   "No.  Look, Astrid.  We'll have other chances… and we've had this time to talk."  He looked around the cove.  "The last time it was the two of us here in this cove alone… you kept me from making a mistake because I was upset.  And then I asked you to not run off and tell people what we'd done.  I…"  He drooped a bit and said with a slight smile, "Please, Astrid.  Let's keep that going and not do anything that we can't take back.  Please?"

She nodded and started to slump slightly in disappointment, only for him to say, "But… but…" he gave her an awkward smile, "that doesn't mean that we do nothing… just nothing that would make you have to lie under oath?"  He nodded his head at hers, and, after a moment, she realized that he was referring to her kransen circlet… which signified that she was a virgin maiden. "Other than that… yes? Please?"

She nodded, smiled, and tackled him, aiming for his ticklish spots.  

He howled with laughter and retaliated.  A minute or so later, the two of them, very well tangled with one another, and feeling much more relaxed, just slumped to the ground.  "Okay, we needed that," she said hoarsely from the laughter.  Hiccup had managed to get the upper hand with those clever fingers of his, and she'd started seeing spots from laughing too hard.  How on Midgard he'd figured out that the backs of her knees were ticklish, she had no idea.  

His head lying on her stomach, he said, "Um… I don't know about you, but I'm still chilly."

"Yeah… but that little war helped," she said, smirking.  She then hauled him up to her face and kissed him.  

Things progressed from there, and again, she found that she had no complaints.  And was going to have to work hard to keep a smile off of her face, especially as they had both found out why people were obsessed with doing this.  There had been some moments of supreme awkwardness… but they'd laughed and gotten past them too.  And Hiccup showed her that his observation skills extended to much more than just dragons…

A while later, as they pulled their dry clothing back on, Astrid just beamed at him fondly, the last of the stars having finally faded from her vision.  "So… that was fun," she said a bit giddily.  She pulled her circlet back onto her head. It settled back into its usual place without making her feel as if she were lying to the world… yet.  

He nodded, a dazed grin on his face.  She felt smug herself, because she'd put it there.  It was so much better than the mood he'd been in when they'd first gotten here…

She sighed.  "So… we should get back soon.  I might not care about the gossip, but there's no reason to tempt the Norns."

His smile turned into a scowl.  "Yeah.   And there'll be trouble when we get back, regardless."

She nodded. "Snotlout."  

"Yep."

"Well, I hope you're feeling better now."

He smiled at her. "What, that wasn't obvious?"

She laughed. "Maaaaybe."

He leaned over and kissed her.  "Love you."

"Love you too. Come on.  I want to see you kick Snotlout's ass in an argument when you've had the chance to prepare too."

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A/N: Been looking forward to people's reactions to this chapter for a while.  What do you all think?  ^_^

#httyd #httyd fanfiction #httyd fandom #a thing of vikings #how to train your dragon