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sanfangirl-cynicalromantic · 1 year

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The Lady Knight | Chapter 3

It's here guys! For those of you who are following the story on AO3, you'll know it is long overdue, so, you know, thank you for putting up with me 😅

tagging @mialicassi, @katergator84, @triumphantfury, @bi-bi-want-dragon, @borrassofi, @macheriemila thank you so much for your support and patience and kind words!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Read on AO3 here

A full year passed in the Berk Guard, scouring almost every inch of Berk twice. Astrid’s twentieth birthday was coming up, and she knew it was time to return to her parents for the celebration. Hiccup was resigning, too, for the King had only given him leave for a year, so ended their enjoyable stint with the Guard.

“I’ll be sorry to see you go,” Throk told her solemnly in his official office in the palace. It was practically sterile - the walls scrubbed shiny and clean with no adornments, yet with that undercurrent of steady kindness and gentility Throk bore.

“Stay a little bit?” Hiccup pleaded with her as she packed her bags, planning to sleep a night in the castle before leaving for the Hofferson estate. She felt her treacherous heart give a little thump at him asking her to stay, with him being implied. Time had passed since she’d realized the truth of her feelings for him, and they had never gone away. In fact, admitting she was in love with him had made everything so much worse for herself. How was it possible to fall more in love with every interaction, no matter how small or mundane?

“It’s only till the end of the week,” he persuaded. “You’ll still make it home with plenty of time for your birthday, and who knows the next time I’ll get you to suffer alongside me at balls?”

That put a damper on her mood. For that was the thing; with Astrid’s nephew Gunnar, there was a proper heir to inherit, and Astrid’s parents were keen to have Astrid resume her rightful identity and reintroduce their daughter to society. She’d probably never have conniving mothers trying to set her up with their silly daughters ever again. But Hiccup did not have that luxury, and she felt a surge of irritation.

“Fine,” she snapped before her mind caught up to her mouth and realized what she had agreed to.

“Oh my gosh Hofferson thank you so much you’re a lifesaver-”

“One night,” Astrid stressed. Hiccup pouted, and she was momentarily riveted by the sight of his lips pushed together distractingly.

“Better than nothing,” Hiccup shrugged cheerfully, and Astrid felt an affectionate smile trying to worm its way onto her face before she quashed it.

She was now more accustomed to attending balls as an eligible young man, and resolved to dance at least three times before refusing any more advances to keep suspicion off of her.

(Besides, each of those dances was keeping at least one young lady away from the extremely eligible prince - not that that mattered to her at all. Or, at least, it shouldn’t matter. It was getting harder to lie to herself.)

As she danced with the second lady of the night, she spied Lady Heather making her way over to the Prince. They didn’t dance, just stood there talking, but Astrid was secure in her knowledge of Heather that it didn’t bother her - much. Across the ballroom, sipping his glass contentedly and nodding amicably at passers by, was Eret.

She joined him as soon as the dance ended. “Long time no see,” she greeted him, punching his arm lightly. “How goes your night?”

“It goes well,” he responded blithely. “A party at the palace, a promotion in the army, wonderful food, and pretty girls. What more’s a man to ask for?”

“I don’t know, have you danced with the elusive Lady Heather yet?” Astrid asked coyly. “She looks exceptionally lovely tonight.” Eret cast her a dark, guarded look that made Astrid snigger internally. She knew their secret romance was blossoming, and Eret’s reaction only proved how much more invested he was in the lady than he let on.

“Oh please,” Astrid guffawed. “I have no interest in her. I’m much more interested in this promotion you mentioned, in fact. Tell me about that.”

Eret’s face relaxed back into a smile. “Ah, it’s nothing,” he said modestly.

“Such things happen every day,” Astrid waved her hand in mock-dismissiveness. Eret was silent for a beat, and then:

“I’ve been made Captain of my own division,” he gushed. Astrid nodded sedately along, but she, too, was thrilled.

“That’s amazing,” she threw a congratulatory elbow at him. “What do . . . the DeRange’s think of this development?” Eret froze and narrowed his eyes at her.

“Why would I care what they think?” he asked stiffly. Astrid raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him.

“I was the one to fetch you for Heather, you think I didn’t stay to find out why?” she asked dryly. Eret deflated.

“Why’d she send you anyway?” he asked, a little sullenly. Astrid hesitated.

“Would you have gone to meet her if you’d known she was the one who wanted to see you?” Astrid pointed our. “And, let’s just say, Heather and I know each other . . . well enough, better than some, and she had something on me that convinced me to do her a favor,” she concluded mysteriously.

“What?” Eret probed, eyes brightening at the chance to embarrass her.

“No,” she said flatly.

“Come on, Hofferson! You know mine!”

“Whose fault is that? Your vigilance is terrible.”

“Oh, shut up.”

.oOo.

Hiccup didn’t like balls at the best of times, but tonight felt especially painful. He tried to pay attention to all of the young ladies who were in front of him, smiling hopefully, but his mind kept straying to his friend, Hofferson. Astrid. Times were changing, and selfishly, he wanted to hang on to the support she had offered him these past few years.

What would it have been like if she had stayed a lady, he wondered. Would he have been dancing with her right now instead? He could have politely addressed her as Miss Hofferson and kissed her hand, while whispering Astrid into her ear and tucking her hair out of her face in private. But no, such a fantasy was ridiculous; surely, if she had never come to squire Training, he wouldn’t have been nearly as successful or respected, just the screw up he had been five years ago. Perhaps he would have been stuck in this same situation, glumly attempting to socialize with the ladies fluttering their overlong lashes at him while he pined for another woman from afar.

He was feeling uncommonly morbid tonight.

He tried to focus on the conversation in front of him. Lady Enid was a very sweet girl, barely sixteen, with heavily applied paints on her young face to make her look more womanly, hair piled precariously on her head, and her tiny torso squeezed into a tight corset in an effort to show off her little waist. Hiccup silently prayed she didn’t get a perfect marriage offer for another few years.

He managed to excuse himself and retreated to the edge of the ball room, hoping to catch Astrid and ridicule the event together - or better yet, leave it - only to find her already engaged with a lady who had finally managed to wheedle Sir Hofferson into a dance.

His eyes tracked their every movement, and not for the first time that night, he imagined what it would be like to be the one dancing with her, her hand in his, his hand on her waist, their faces too close together to be able to see anything else. He admired Hofferson greatly for her strength and determination and her will to fight; there was no one he’d trust more to have his back - either in a fight or whatever other situation they invariably found themselves in. But sometimes (oftentimes) he wished he could treat her like the lady she was alongside the warrior, and hold her with that intimate tenderness he longed to give her.

And it was ridiculous to be jealous of the lady dancing with his friend - it was clear Astrid was only dancing with her out of necessity and nothing else. But Hiccup couldn’t have dancing as an excuse to hold his friend around her waist. And Astrid surely would not welcome such attention from him: she did not care about the power of the crown, being content with her own power already. She was a serious warrior, and the last thing she needed was her one supporter trying to put her back into a wifely position. She was fond of him, he knew, and sometimes he’d indulged himself at night, replaying her rare smiles at him, imagining they were of a deeper affection than close friendship.

“Oh, you’re really down bad, aren’t you?” a low but feminine voice chuckled near his ear. He turned, startled, to face Lady Heather smirking at him.

“I’m sorry?” he asked stupidly. Heather tilted her to the side and regarded him almost pityingly. A dark lock of curls rested on her ear.

“You aren’t actually that good at lying, you know,” she said casually. “And to those who know how smart you are, playing dumb is just insulting.”

Hiccup rolled his eyes. “And around those who know you aren’t nearly as mysterious as you’d like to act, Heather, you may drop the façade.”

“Don’t deflect,” Heather scolded softly, white teeth gleaming in the candlelight. “Anyone could notice the ways your eyes track her.” Hiccup followed her gaze to Astrid and the lady she was dancing with.

“Lady Greta?” he asked, injecting the right amount of confusion into his voice. Had she really just said he couldn’t act? Heather let out a short tinkle of laughter.

“Oh, that was good,” she shook her head. “But I meant the other lady.”

“Other-?”

“The one Lady Greta is dancing with.” Hiccup swallowed thickly. No. No one but him knew Astrid was . . . Astrid. Right? He turned to Heather, unable to mask the fear in his eyes.

“I know,” Heather said, lifting her chin.

“Don’t-” he pleaded with her. It was stupid. He knew Heather wouldn’t do such a thing, and yet irrational panic filled him at the thought of Astrid being discovered.

“I wouldn’t,” she assured him, a pained note in her voice. He winced.

“I, I know, I just -”

“I get it,” she said quickly. A beat passed, and then, “She cares for you too, you know.”

“What?” he snapped his head round to look at her, unable to disguise his pitiful note of hope.

“You know what I mean,” Heather said haughtily. “If you weren’t so hellbent on disguising your own emotions you might be able to see she is just as bad at concealing her feelings as you are.”

“Such language for a lady,” he tutted to keep himself from focusing on what Heather could possibly mean.

“I’m hardly ladylike,” she purred, a wicked gleam in her eye that made Hiccup cough delicately.

“Ah. You . . . sorted things out with Eret, have you?” he asked. There was a time he hadn’t liked the man, having witnessed Heather’s quiet heartbreak at his hands and then fearing Astrid had been caught in the same trap, but since then he had come to enjoy Eret’s lighthearted company.

“For the most part,” Heather nodded. “We still don’t dare get publicly engaged, not yet. Perhaps if there was a way to get Father or Dagur indebted to him, he could ask for my hand, but we must still keep things quiet until we get a chance or change Father’s mind.”

“I wish you luck,” Hiccup told her dryly. Heather fanned herself to disguise her eye roll.

“Stop it! Father is getting a little mellow in old age, it shouldn’t be too hard. And if all else fails, we could always confess and elope.” Hiccup’s eyebrows jumped in surprise.

“I guess so,” he conceded. “No one’s looking at me right now: I think I’ll try to retire. Good night, Heather.”

“Henry,” Heather called. He turned slightly to look at her. “She could be holding herself back for the same reasons you are. Maybe you should make the first move.” He blinked, trying to recall the previous conversation. Ah.

“I’ll consider it,” he promised, before he ran smack dab into a group of gossiping mothers who paired him with their daughters for the rest of the night.

He didn’t want to say goodbye to Astrid the next morning. He patted Stormfly’s flank a last time and waved half heartedly as she rode away back west. He wished she’d said something. He wished he’d said something. But neither of them had, so he was left to kick at the dirt and stare after her long gone figure until his father came and took him back inside.

It was perfectly acceptable to mope, he decided. No, it was not very becoming of a prince, and no, no one sympathized. His mother shook her head gently, Duke Jorgenson picked at his slouch, and the King just looked disappointed at his son’s childish display of missing his friend. Toothless thought he was rather pathetic too, as he kept biting Hiccup’s fingers whenever he brushed his stallion too slowly, and at one point during their ride had tried to buck him off. Hiccup had barely managed to stay astride.

“Useless horse,” he muttered darkly.

The worst part about everything was that he had no idea when he’d see her again. She was going home, probably for good, and was probably going to run her estate while he suffered with the kingdom’s paperwork. Sure, she had that nephew now, and she was afraid he’d inherit her place and right to the estate, but Hiccup was certain that couldn’t happen. Not when the world knew Astrid as Sir Hofferson; it would be impossible for the nephew to inherit over the son.

Maybe his moping shouldn’t have lasted a month. Or two. Or however long it took for his dad to lose his patience and give him serious lectures or yell at him. But eventually he was dragged into meetings and lectures and the king’s prodding at him, trying to display the Heir of Berk people were so eager to see.

But maybe he didn’t want to be the Heir and Pride of Berk. Didn’t everyone know he wouldn’t be so public-worthy without Sir Hofferson? He would’ve stayed the same screw up he had been if Astrid hadn’t taken it upon herself to give him extra training. He needed his friend by his side. He wanted someone he trusted to stay real and actually help him when he needed it. Sure, Toothless was also great at taking none of his crap, but Toothless also couldn’t accompany him to miserable balls or talk strategy with him, or cover for him when one of his experiments ran awry again. He had made up his mind years ago that he needed Hofferson by his side, even before he had known she was Astrid.

A couple years ago, he had seen death for the first time. He had seen it a few more times since then, and while he still found it as distasteful as ever, he could stomach it, at least.

He hadn’t had that sort of immunity then.

It had been awful: death was scary in itself, even if the person was going peacefully. But they were in the midst of a war, and this man was bleeding and missing body parts. His comrades were sobbing and wailing and the nurses were shouting, and all Hiccup could do was watch and feel the blood drain out of his face the same way it was draining out the dying man. It felt like he was rooted to the spot for a lifetime, and yet he had only breathed a few times. And then, in that moment where you truly know before your brain registers the fact, he gained enough control over his body to realize he was about to throw up, and the man was dead.

He had made his way quietly out of the tent. He was doing better in his training by then, and had stopped being bullied a while ago, but it also hadn’t occurred to his peers yet how useful gaining his favor could be, so he had a bit of privacy to have a minor panic attack.

That man had died. He was dead from this war, which people often forgot about because it had been going on for so long that it wasn’t so relevant to normal people’s lives anymore. There would be people who wouldn’t even care about the war while some family would receive a heartbreaking message that one of their promising young men would never come back home.

He bent over and heaved his thin breakfast out onto the dirt. And it was then he noticed him - or her, as he later found out, but a him to him then.

Hofferson knelt beside him, no judgment or pity in his gaze, just simple understanding. Hiccup closed his eyes and let the shame wash over him, but Hofferson was his friend, and maybe he genuinely wasn’t like the other boys who would tease him mercilessly for this.

“He - he died,” Hiccup croaked, trying to see if the concept made more sense spoken aloud. “He’s dead.”

“He is,” Astrid had said matter of factly. Hiccup had felt a prick of anger at that, he remembered. How could one just accept the loss of a life like that?

“But what if - what if there could have been another way,” he blurted out, desperate to find an alternate answer. “What if he didn’t have to die? Can’t there be another option?”

“People die every day,” his friend had said slowly, like they were trying to accustom him to the every fact of death. “Maybe, in another world, he would have died today anyway, despite not fighting in a war. Maybe he wouldn’t have.” Hiccup looked stonily at the ground, as if not being able to see her would mean he couldn’t hear her, too. “But that man who died today, died for a cause. He fought for something until his last breath; isn’t that the best way to die?” Astrid had bent down farther so she could meet his eyes as he stared at the wet dirt.

He blew out a shaky breath and raked his hands through his hair, grabbing at the strands in an effort to stabilize himself.

“You’re going to be King someday,” Hofferson pressed, because apparently they couldn’t leave him alone. Why pile more guilt and responsibility on him now? “You’re going to be forced to make decisions that get people killed.” Hiccup squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could just make his friend leave and let him wallow in peace. He was such a screw up, a weak nobody who just happened to be born in this awful position of power he could never live up to. And yes, Hofferson was helping him with his fighting, and nobody made fun of him as often, and Mom and Dad seemed a lot more able to tolerate him with his growing success. But he wasn’t as strong as his dad, he couldn’t make the kind of decisions that would result in all of . . . this. A gentle hand, slim and small but strong and calloused at the same time, rested on his shoulder.

“What’s important is that you make sure those decisions aren’t in vain,” his friend had said firmly. And for some reason, that resonated with him. He could probably never learn to not be bothered by killing, but the deaths didn’t have to be meaningless. Each death could be a tribute to life, to keeping the rest of the people, and he might not be able to go to war to kill, but he could go to war to fight for the importance of life.

His eyes met hers, and he knew then, even before he knew what would later develop for her, he knew he needed a person who could pull him out of dark despair the way she had. He needed her by his side. Maybe he could make Hofferson part of his permanent council once he was forced to ascend the throne, yes. That was how he could keep his friend by his side.

There was another way now, though.

And after Spitelout - er, Duke Jorgenson and Dad snapped at him for what felt like the hundredth time that day, he picked out his second nicest riding outfit and led Toothless out the gates, setting off to the Hofferson estate.

.oOo.

The first thought Astrid had as she entered the estate was how little everything had changed, and how out of place she felt. A servant caught sight of her and bowed before turning to alert his superiors of her arrival. Those were the hills she hadn’t ridden in years. She dismounted by the stables, and a stable boy rushed out to take Stormfly and she let him after a moment’s hesitation, used to doing such things herself in the Guard.

“Astrid, my dear girl,” Father greeted her when she entered the manor. “So good to see you again.” He embraced her tightly, and Astrid hugged him back before stepping back.

“I’m so glad to see you back,” Mother said happily, stepping forward to envelop her daughter in an embrace. “I worried you’d stay longer when I received your plans to stay another week, but I’m so glad you came. Come, you must be tired after three days’ ride. I already have the maids drawing a bath and some nicer clothes laid out.”

“Thank you,” Astrid smiled gratefully, although she was slightly taken aback. It was an unspoken agreement that Astrid wore feminine clothes at home - which she was happy to do, for she missed her dresses often. Especially after a ball. But usually her family was far more interested with how she had been and she could at least get through dinner before donning a lady’s garb. Hadn’t she been away for nearly two years? Then again, there was far more time to hear her tales: the Hofferson’s had needed an heir, and now they had a better one. And Astrid was probably returning home for good.

Admittedly, the hot bath was quite welcome, and Astrid found a lovely blue dress of fine cotton waiting for her. Oh, it had been so long since she had worn blue. The Berk Guard wore the livery colors of the Royal family, and Astrid quite enjoyed the way red and black complimented her complexion, but it wasn’t blue. She combed her short, wet hair a little self consciously before making her way down to dinner.

Everyone was already sitting. Father sat at the head of the table, Mother on his right, Astoria on his left. Astrid didn’t know her sister had come to visit. Cami, the last unmarried sister besides Astrid, sat next to Astoria. Astrid took her seat next to Mother, some of her hair falling into her eyes, contrasting with all the other ladies’ meticulous coiffures. She quickly tucked it behind her ear, cursing herself for not at least attempting to braid her hair nicely.

The table immediately started inquiring plenty of things about her: how had she been, was the ride home easy? How lovely it was to have her back. What was it like, fighting? That was from Cami, who was quickly shushed; she acquiesced grumpily, slumping in her chair as much as she dared. Mother then quickly turned the conversation around to how healthy Astrid looked - practically glowing, even, before she had any time to regale any fun tales to her younger sister.

Ah, she knew what was going on. Hofferson’s were never supposed to display anything but the epitome of manners, so clearly her parents were getting all the small talk over with to head on the topic they really wanted to discuss. It was probably going to take at least a week before they allowed themselves to get to the point, though.

“Enough about me,” Astrid declared easily after they were halfway through the main course. “It is rude to only inquire after one person - Astoria, how does your son and husband?”

“They do well,” Astoria answered, seeming surprised at Astrid addressing her. “Gunnar and I are here to visit awhile while my husband is at court.”

“Wonderful,” Astrid said amicably, even though she didn’t feel like it at all. She continued to make small conversation and inquire after the rest of her family for the rest of the night, anxious to put off questions about herself.

“Mother, Father, I’m sure you have been busy in my absence, what about you?”

Oh, well enough, Mother assured her. Happier now she was home. Father jokingly related a few frustrating anecdotes from the day before and Astrid cracked a smile. Cami chimed in about baby Gunnar ruining her dress, and Astrid’s smile became strained at the mention of her nephew.

It was probably rude to dislike a baby so much, especially one she was so closely related to, but Astrid couldn’t help herself from wanting to scowl at the mere mention of him. It didn’t help that the rest of the family were clearly so enamored with the heir.

Father cleared his throat. “As a matter of fact, Astrid,” he said solemnly. “There is something we’d like to talk to you about.”

Of course there is, Astrid nodded, indicating for them to go on. Lord Hofferson looked at his wife, who folded her hands in her lap as she turned to face Astrid.

“We have been waiting for you to come home for a while,” Mother began. “You look nice and healthy, and, well, you aren’t getting any younger dear.”

Thor help her, she knew where this was going.

“We’ve been thinking, it is time for you to settle down, Astrid.”

“Oh,” she said stupidly.

“You certainly have an aura of allure,” Mother said happily. “People are wondering when our beautiful elusive daughter will come out and find a husband - you’ve never even made a proper debut. Now, we had a list of prospective suitors-” Astrid’s eyes bulged in horror.

“-But you’ve given us an even better one,” Mother declared proudly.

“That sounds a little ominous, to be honest,” Astrid said dryly. Warning bells rang in her head at the snark directed towards her parents, but a bigger part of her mind was cast fondly to Hiccup and his inability to keep his mouth shut and free from unwanted comments during serious conversation. Cami hastily took an overlarge sip from her glass and burst into a coughing fit. The attention turned to her little sister until Cami assured them she was fine and scooped a generous serving of potatoes into her mouth. Mother sighed.

“Cami, dear, you know opening your mouth so big is unladylike,” Mother admonished her youngest.

“Who is the better option for me?” Astrid asked in an effort to distract her parents from her sister.

“The Crown Prince,” Father said. Astrid’s head whipped towards him and her jaw dropped momentarily. “It’s clear that you are very close to him, and truly, there is no one better to merge our family with; we have plenty of ties through marriage and trade with our surrounding territories, and your aunts in the southeast. We should establish ourselves more often in court.” Astrid focused on keeping her back perfectly straight so as to avoid curling her lip at the factual assessment of the Crown Prince’s benefits to the family. Everything her father said made sense, but she felt protective over Hiccup being regarded so callously. ‘They’re never interested in me for anything but my position,’ he had once confided in her.

Astrid felt repulsion thick in her throat. Hadn’t she judged all the other ladies who had schemed for the Prince as well? This made her just as bad - worse, even. The gravy over her potatoes - one of her favorite dishes - tasted like ash. She sipped some water to wash the taste down, but the liquid felt strangely dry. The voices around her continued to talk, but it was hard to hear, like that time a robber she was fighting had stuffed her head into a barrel, and the noise had been unbearably loud but she couldn’t make out the muffled shouting.

“Excuse me,” she said as soon as she could. “I’d like to retire.”

“Of course,” Mother nodded.

“I’m sure Gunnar needs checking anyways,” Astoria piped up. “I can accompany you to your rooms,” she offered.

“Oh no need,” Astrid assured her quickly, and left the room before her sister could protest.

Mother and Father, Astrid learned as the months merged from early spring to mid summer, had it all planned out. Astrid’s thick golden locks grew longer, her braids took longer to do, and she found herself thinking of trying to add her hair comb somewhere, but eventually decided against it for now - it was special. She would certainly wear it to her debut, which was to take place at her twentieth birthday in late summer.

They were to arrange a little ‘accident’ for their ‘son’ a little before her debut, and at the funeral, while the Prince was mourning, Astrid would comfort him over the death of her brother and present herself as a suitable wife simultaneously.

“You know him better than anyone, dear,” Mother exclaimed to her over dress fitting. “You’ll have the upper hand over anyone else; you know what he likes!”

“That doesn’t mean I want to use it against him!” Astrid cried before sucking in a sharp breath as the seamstress tugged her corset string a little harder. The air she was deprived of was replaced by a litany of foul curses and she bit her tongue to keep them from escaping. The corset didn’t hurt as much as being whacked in the abdomen with a staff, but it was uncomfortable nonetheless.

“Astrid,” Mother placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Darling, it’s . . . quite clear to us that you feel something for the Prince. Love matches aren’t ever to be expected, but they are coveted, and he would be a wonderful choice for a husband. Don’t you agree?” Astrid tried to pretend the color in her cheeks weren’t rising, but her mother acknowledged them with a satisfied nod. “Besides, if you like him so much, surely he can’t be too far behind; anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Surely her feelings for the prince weren’t that obvious, Astrid prayed fervently. And it was true - Astrid probably would never be able to bring herself to marry anyone other than him. What luck her selfishness was for the benefit of the family. But how would the Prince want her? He was the Heir to Berk, and a great fighter in his own right - why would he want a knight for a wife? He’d be able to see through her immediately: he always had, and he knew her true identity, unbeknownst to her parents. Would he hate her for being so duplicitous to his face?

She slept restlessly that hot night, burning with guilt and self loathing. At last, dawn was about to break and she rose early to dress in her riding outfit. She wore dresses among her family, and her riding outfit was no different, although she did wear men’s trousers underneath. Her hair had been growing out over the months, and it had nearly reached her shoulders. She quickly gathered her hair and plaited two braids - one from each temple, joined in the back. She thought fleetingly of her hair comb, but such an ornament would be ridiculous for riding. She pushed open her heavy door, peeking out into the corridor before stepping onto the soft carpet, her riding boots sinking slightly under her weight. The servants weren’t yet out and about.

Stormfly was always a good listener. Astrid could rant and scream and let her mare gallop and be back in time for breakfast, temper leashed enough to be able to bear her parents’ conniving. The early morning mist brushed against her face as she exited the manor for the stables. She let a smile across her face as she imagined flying through it.

She entered the stables, the placement of Stormfly’s stall so familiar she could find it in her sleep. But as she rounded a corner to where the hay bales lay she came upon a most shocking sight. She let out a shrill scream and stumbled back, hand belatedly covering her eyes.

Cami, skirts up and the stable boy, pants down, whipped around at the sound and screeched. She heard the rustle of fabric as the youth fumbled with his pants and Cami hastily tried to smooth her skirts, muttering a horrific slew of curses. Where has she learned such language? The protective monster side of Astrid growled dangerously.

Astrid stood with her hand angrily on her hips as the stable boy passed her, beet red and still adjusting himself. Cami caught sight of her face and tried to run away, but Astrid had been training as a stealthy, fit fighter for the past five years and she easily grabbed a hold of her youngest sister’s wrist.

“Camillia Bertha Hofferson,” she seethed, levering the not-yet sixteen year old with a deadly glare. “Explain yourself!” The young lady tried to shrug out of her grip.

“Come off it, surely you know what was happening,” Cami shot snidely. Astrid sputtered indignantly.

“You’re not even sixteen!” she cried. “You’re too young - have you any idea what you’re doing? You cannot just ruin yourself like that!”

“Of course not,” Cami spat, her long blonde hair a tangled mess around her face. “It would be awful for me to do anything without consideration for my unknown future husband, who surely is extending me the same courtesy.” Astrid sighed. She understood Cami’s frustration well, but it hadn’t been pleasant to learn about Heather’s anguish she had gone through after losing her maidenhood - to a noble, at least, not some lowly youth merely thinking with something other than his head.

“What, so you let yourself be tumbled by the first lad that came along?” Astrid shot. She winced internally. That had come out far harsher than it should’ve. Cami’s face grew red with shame and anger.

“Don’t act as if you wouldn’t have considered something similar were you in my position.”

“I am-”

“No!” Cami cut in. “No you’re not. Your position is different. You don’t have to be a lady like me.”

“Of course I do! I must be able to conduct myself both as a lady and a gentleman, and even so I am able to uphold my honor,” Astrid rebutted pointedly.

“Because creating a whole other person who doesn’t even exist, lying to everyone about who you really are, that truly is the epitome of honor!” Cami cried, her voice rising louder. “You act like what you did was so hard, but you got to leave and adventure and escape corsets and the constant pressure of navigating society, avoiding older ladies’ snide comments and not a single true friend among peers because you are all competing against each other for some snotty old man who’ll pay our families for a pretty, obedient young wife who will bear him babies to continue his deplorable line.” Her voice broke as she continued. “And you got to meet the Prince - and fall in love with him - don’t try to deny it. And everyone wants you to marry him! Everyone is happy for you! How dare you try to deny me a right to myself!”

“I am PROTECTING you!” Astrid shouted at her sister, hurt. “I have shed blood for this family, worked my body until it was black and blue and sore!! How ungrateful are you?” She dropped Cami’s wrist to throw up her hands. “How many times did I give up the comfort of a soft warm bed for the hard ground in the middle of the battlefield for you?! There were so many nights all I wanted was to go back and yet I persevered for everyone!!! They may seem tedious to you but I don’t get to dress up and go to balls as a lady. I can’t grow my hair out or even speak in a normal voice for fear of someone suspecting me. I am one of the best knights of my generation who has given my all, and yet if everyone were to ever find out my true identity I am sure they would forsake me.” Astrid blinked rapidly to calm herself down. “You’re my family; you’re supposed to understand,” she shook her head, trying to clear the lump in her throat without being obvious. “And what is my reward? Being replaced by an infant as soon as he was born.”

Cami seemed stunned, and Astrid drew a ragged breath through her nose to calm herself down, satisfied at rendering her sister speechless. It only lasted for a moment.

“You don’t get to act like you’re so different from us, doing what you did, and then come back and just resume your place like nothing happened,” Cami said stiltedly, like she was trying to regain the upper hand but wasn’t quite sure how to go about it.

“If Mother and Father have their way, that’s exactly what I’m going to do,” Astrid retorted contrarily.

“As if you could keep up,” Cami scoffed.

“I’m a quick learner,” Astrid reminded her triumphantly. “I learned all the lady etiquette you learned in less than a quarter of the time you did.”

Cami tossed her head. “I hadn’t been trying to master my poise,” she sniffed. “Besides, just because you want to be a lady again all of a sudden doesn’t mean you are one. There are many things about society that cannot be learned from books or tutors.”

“I know,” Astrid said tiredly, refraining from rolling her eyes at the superiority in her younger sister’s voice. “I haven’t been living under a rock all these years. In fact, I know what goes on behind the scenes with the men better than any of the other ladies, so we both have advantages over each other.”

Still, the thought of navigating court and convincing her best friend to marry her instead of all the other young ladies coiled a heavy lead rope in her stomach. Perhaps building a proper friendship with Lady Heater instead of just a truce would be a good investment.

“What would you even do as Queen?” Cami continued, having scented Astrid’s niggling fear like a bloodhound on a hunt. “Fight? Lead the armies into battle?” That tone of hers was unacceptable, Astrid thought darkly. Her little sister was treating her like a dirty vagabond whose only use was brawling, but clearly, it was her manners that were lesser. Astrid had been trained so strictly on politeness, where had that dedication gone with the youngest sister?

“Fighting a battle is not all I’m good at,” Astrid retorted, barely keeping all the bite out of her tone. She wanted to settle down and have a family, have her husband smile at her the way Father smiled at Mother or the King at the Queen. She wanted someone to look at her, well, the way Hiccup did. But she wanted that on her own terms. She wanted to continue to defend her country, wanted to be seen as capable of more than just a wife. Why could she only achieve one of those things by the loss of the other? But she didn’t say any of that. How could she expect Cami to understand? It wasn’t as if Cami was suddenly in a space to listen to her, anyway. She stared into the distance, not noticing the smell of hay or the barn walls.

The teenager waited for Astrid to elaborate what she was good at challengingly. When no examples were forthcoming, she grinned in victory.

“You think they’d let you fight after you married?” she sneered. “Are you going to come clean about who you’ve really been these past five years, or will you just lie to them? You think they won’t question your decisions and wonder why you know such things? Do you think the Prince will be happy to hear-” Astrid’s head snapped back up to look at her sister.

“Oh what do you know about the Prince?” Astrid snapped at her, the stress of months of her parent’s plans and her own guilt and Cami’s infuriating attitude breaking her control. “You have no right to act as if you know him!” Astrid yelled. “He is more than stupid rumors and callous speculation - he’s a person who has feelings and opinions about who he is and what he likes! Ever wonder why he’s still a bachelor? He doesn't like that kind of talk about him, and that’s where all the girls have gone wrong.”

“Oh? Does that make you believe you’d have a chance then?” Cami curled her lip. “You’re different, are you? You’re so unconventional and unique. Our parents’ Golden Girl?”

“I was never their Golden Girl,” Astrid mimicked her. They had appreciated Astrid’s naive attempts to bring honor to their family, and it had worked, but she wouldn’t be recognized as a good little daughter until she married. Astoria had always been the perfect daughter - the best at everything, marrying without complaint, birthing the heir to House Hofferson, being the first born. The daughter with the overall most benefit to existing.

“Well say the Prince does like the rebellious sort like you,” Cami continued patronizingly. Astrid snorted. Was Cami not aware of the ridiculous hypocrisy in calling her rebellious? And who was she to think she could speak thus to her elders? “What sort of awful example would you set, cutting your hair and wearing ugly men’s clothes? Women can wield swords but they shouldn’t be soldiers.”

A sharp slap rang out, and Cami gasped and touched her cheek gingerly, staring at Astrid with wide eyes.

“Shut the fuck up,” Astrid hissed, baring her teeth. “Be glad it wasn’t a punch.” She spun abruptly and walked out of the barn, horrified with the heat of her palm.

She stormed away, hand still smarting from slapping Cami. Her breathing was rapid and uneven. The mist had cleared somewhat as the sun had come out, so the air felt more clammy than cooling. She didn’t watch where she was going and her boot sunk into the ground, the land grown soft with water. She growled as her hem dragged through the mud and stepped forcefully on the unstable ground the rest of the way to the house just because it felt like the wrong thing to do.

A throat cleared behind her as she stepped inside and closed the door and she whirled around, her hand helplessly searching for an unavailable weapon at her hip. It took a moment for her to relax her stand and her brain to recognize the person. A tall young man with a lean build, windswept brown hair with auburn streaks, and impassioned green eyes that were wide as he took her in, wearing a dress in front of him for the time.

“Ast-” his voice sounded rather hoarse. What on Earth was he doing here? Astrid’s frazzled state grew even more agitated with her confusion, and while normally the sight of Hiccup soothed her like nothing else, she really, really didn’t want to see him right now, not with everything she had just been thinking. “That is, Lady Astrid,” he corrected himself. “I uh, may I speak with you for a moment, please?”

No, I can’t face you right now, she thought desperately. Please go away. They stood there staring at each other, neither saying a thing. Astrid was too stunned and Hiccup seemed too flustered to break the uncomfortable silence. But, against her consent, she found herself nodding and leading him to a nearby room off the corridor.

His clothes were speckled with dirt, she noticed, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days - Astrid knew that look all too well from her experience. He ran a hair through his hair - it, too, had grown longer since she’d seen him like hers had.

“I’ve never-” he began, before cutting himself off. “You um, you look lovely?” Her hair had started to frizz out of its braids and the bottom five inches of her hem were caked with mud, and she was sure her face was still flushed with anger. She was very unpretty at the moment.

“Is that a surprise?” she sniped before she could stop herself. No, stop it. This was why she couldn’t see him, she would say things she didn’t mean or worse, things she did mean and that would complicate things. It stung a bit, the thought had perhaps he had never considered her pretty before. His face morphed into an expression of affronted surprise.

“No,” he denied vehemently, and that guilty, vain part of her settled. “No, I - you always look beautiful, just, usually in a different way. You look nice like this too. Really nice. Yeah. Um. Well, I mean, not just nice, but-” he cleared his throat, looking around the room anywhere but her. ��That’s not - this isn’t what I’m here for.”

“What are you doing here?” Astrid asked. Her tone was barely polite, bordering on the edge of accusatory. Hiccup’s brows furrowed confusedly. He shifted his weight, leaning more heavily on his right leg. He swallowed and inhaled slowly.

“I had to see you,” he began. “I’m sorry for the abruptness of it all, but I haven’t really stopped riding for the last two days coming here to really think.”

“It’s a three day ride from the capital to here,” Astrid exclaimed softly. “Hiccup, you must be dead on your feet.” What on Midgard had happened that was so important? Was he coming to warn her of something?

“Not yet,” he grinned at her. “I just . . . I had to see you.” He’d said that already.

“To tell me what?” she asked, eager to have him deliver the news so he could rest. He looked near dead beat, yet there was still that lively spark in his eyes as he looked at her, and even though she was certain he was running on adrenaline alone, he still looked damn beautiful. He took a deep breath.

“Berk doesn’t feel the same without you, Astrid,” he declared passionately. “Logically, I know it should be ridiculous, because you were only at the palace for a little while, and somehow, we’ve spent most of our lives without each other, but it - God, Astrid, you became a part of it so easily, and now everything feels unfinished without you. Again, not really logical, but my head has never worked normally around you.” Astrid felt her heart beating, her posture relaxing against her will even as a sense of horror began to grow.

“I miss it too,” she admitted. “I just, I don’t know if I can go back . . .” She had never felt so free as when she was there, but would she ever be able to reach that feeling again as a lady, rather than a knight?

“You could,” Hiccup stepped forward and took her hands. Oh, he was misunderstanding her - wait wait wait. He was holding her hands. Astrid’s gaze snapped up to meet his. He was looking at her intensely, like she was the only thing in the room, the world. “Astrid Hofferson. Our time away from each other has forced me to realize how much of an influence you have on me - for good. I’ve taken you for granted these past few years because you were always there, but - please, do me the honor of marrying me, and I swear I will cherish you for the rest of my life - our lives.”

Astrid blinked, as if that would ensure she had heard him correctly. He tugged on her hands, forcing her to take a step closer to him. They were face to face, so close she couldn’t see anything but him. His eyes bored into hers, their gazes colliding and sending a ringing through her ears.

“I love you, Astrid. I love your smile, and the way you throw your head back when you laugh. I love the way your brow furrows in concentration when you fight. I love your steadiness next to my recklessness. I love the way you still try to tuck your hair behind your ear even when it’s too short to stay.”

Astrid’s mouth fell open with a shaky, disbelieving laugh.

“I think you’re beautiful, Astrid. When you have dirt and blood on your face, or when you’re stiff in men’s clothes for formal events, or right now, in this dress.” He took a moment to look her up and down in appreciation. “I think it’s criminal I’ve never seen you in a dress before.”

“Hiccup-” there was a feeling clogging her throat, so she cleared it. She felt sick to her stomach.

“Yes?” he asked tenderly.

“I can’t,” she shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would surely make everything go away. Hiccup’s hands dropped from her arms and she felt him cup her face upwards until she opened her eyes to meet his.

“Is there . . . someone else?” he whispered mournfully, a possessive gleam in his eye. “A previous engagement?”

“No,” she breathed, gently taking his hand from her chin. “No, it’s - not that.”

“Then what?” he pleaded. “Please, Astrid, anything. Give me something.”

“I can’t - this isn’t - we couldn’t - what would people say about you marrying a girl no one has barely seen for the past five years?!”

“I don’t care about that,” he said ardently.

“That’s not all! I’m not - I’m not cut out to be a Queen - or at least, I’m not ready for it-”

“You’d be great, but we could wait if you wanted,” he assured her earnestly.

“I mean, I don’t want - I don’t want to stop being a knight just yet.”

“I wouldn’t stop you. Hell, you’d never have to stop being a knight,” he spread his arms like it was the answer to everything, and Astrid felt irrational anger building up about to explode out of her throat.

“Oh, really?” she challenged him, the injustice of everything building underneath her skin, causing her fists to clench and her nails to bite into her calloused palms. “What would everyone say if they found out I was a knight?”

“Their opinions wouldn’t matter,” Hiccup said stoutly. Astrid let out a bitter laugh.

“They do, Hiccup. Trust me.”

“No they don’t, Astrid-”

“You don’t understand-”

“Since when have you let what people thought stop you?” Hiccup interrupted indignantly. “You wanted to become a knight, despite your parents not wanting you to, and you became the best damn knight in the country.” He was - that was wrong. She wasn’t the best in the country. Yet, a treacherous voice inside her whispered, but she quashed it down with logic: when would she be able to get better after this? “People wouldn’t think our ideas wouldn’t work, but you weren’t afraid to try them and show people they were wrong. You didn’t try to fit in with the other knights if you disagreed with what they were doing. You weren’t afraid to be unpopular or work hard. What’s stopping you now?”

“It’s not that easy,” Astrid whispered. She wanted to throw her arms around him and do something crazy like - like kiss him - for having so much faith in her. Did he not realize what an uproar it would cause for her to be both a knight and his wife? She didn’t want to kill off her alternate self, but she had also resigned herself to her parent’s plan. He didn’t know the cowardly strategy to resume her place in society, and how much she hated it. She had been so dreading the chance to try to win his heart, and now that she already had it, and he wanted her to continue as a knight if she wished? She didn’t deserve it, surely. Astrid was used to working so hard for everything she wanted in life, something she desired so avidly shouldn’t be so easy. She bit her lip and averted her eyes.

Hiccup lifted her chin to force her to meet his eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut so she wouldn’t have to meet his gaze. She had never done that. Even when eye contact had made her heart beat so erratically she had thought she would combust, or when she thought it was a terrible timing, even if she had to look away soon after, she had always met his eye. Hiccup knew this too.

“Wow,” he said softly. “I’d never take you for a coward, Astrid Hofferson.”

Her eyes snapped open and she shoved him away from her, hard, her internal despair giving way to welcome aggression.

“Shut up!” she hissed. He had struck a nerve there. “I am not-”

“You can’t even meet my eye,” he accused her, hurt that she refused to fight for something he hadn’t slept for in two days in an attempt to get to her faster. She stalked towards him. They stood face to face, chests heaving, noses almost touching as she leaned up on her toes to better meet his eyes in challenge. Her face was flushed pink, eyes brimming with anger and hurt and longing, blonde hair now just past her shoulders in wild disarray. He could feel the anger rolling off of her in waves of heat, and his own temperature rose to meet hers. Buried deep below the surface was his father’s substantial rage, and Astrid had always awakened things no one else had. Hiccup’s eyes flickered down to her lips, pulled back into a defensive snarl. He wanted nothing more than to close that distance between them and ravage her mouth until she was whimpering sweet nothings, but he somehow managed to hold himself back.

“You think you can just - waltz into here and propose marriage and I’ll just suddenly drop everything to say yes?” she spat disgustedly. Hiccup hesitated. Truthfully, he hadn’t thought ahead. He’d just finally realized what a muttonhead he was, keeping his feelings from her when she probably felt the same. Truthfully, he had kind of assumed her love for him would affect her similarly as it had him.

She had feelings for him, that he could tell, but it didn’t seem as if she had accepted the fact.

“You want this so bad?” she challenged, her volume rising with the color in her cheeks. “You’re the Crown Prince who can do anything?! Where is the change in law to allow females to inherit, huh?” Hiccup said nothing.

“None of this would be happening if not for the simple fact women are not trusted with men’s belongings after they are deceased - even if they should belong to us.” She poked his chest hard enough for him to take a step back. “How can you promise me support if I ever came clean? Where is the support now?”

“I-” Hiccup began.

“NO! Uh-uh, I’m talking. You could do so much, why are you waiting until you’re king to start change? Let women inherit! Stop the war!”

“I’m going to stop you there,” he cried indignantly. “One person cannot just stop a war.”

“Have you tried?” she shot. “What have you done at all to try to help us finish this ongoing battle, huh? Sure, you served on the frontlines with all of us, but your strengths have always been in doing things the way they’ve never been done before.”

“I can’t-”

“YOU COULD!” Astrid screamed. She didn’t care if she woke up the whole house. Everything was slipping out of control; Cami, Hiccup, herself. What were a few more people tangled up in this disaster? “You could but you won’t. Because you don’t actually want to put in the effort and change things. You want things to be the way they’ve been for the past few years but those times are over. You can’t have them again. Grow up, Hiccup. I’m not just someone who will hold your hand and relive the past.”

“That’s not true,” he denied hotly

Hiccup’s eyes were wide, like the bright green grass in the early spring that had been frosted: bright green like nothing else, but about to die as soon as the frost melted. He blinked a few times, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, his head shaking as if he was trying to deny to himself who had just said such hurtful words to him.

They knew each other better than anyone else. She had been the only one who could see how affected he had been by others’ malicious words, and then had taken it to a new level. She wanted to apologize, say she didn’t mean it, but deep down, she knew she had hit the truth, and that’s why it hurt so much.

“That’s not fair,” he croaked. He was looking at her like maybe he didn’t know her, like this wasn’t real. And maybe it wasn’t. How could life go from miserable to him confessing his love for her to this? Or maybe that was exactly the kind of havoc life wrought.

Astrid chose her next words carefully. She needed to put the final nail in the coffin. This encounter wasn’t salvageable, the least she could do was finish off the damage. “You’re all words and no action,” she said shakily, a note of hate in her voice to drown out the sorrow. “And I don’t want your empty promises.”

He let out a strangled breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob. Astrid stared at his boots. “If that’s what you think of me,” Hiccup said slowly, like every word cost him. “Maybe we weren’t the match I thought we were.” He brushed past her to the door and Astrid let him go, a hollow feeling in her chest as she absorbed his words. “Good day, Lady Hofferson.” He closed the door behind him.

Astrid made it to a chair before her knees gave out from under her. And for the first time in ten years, Astrid Hofferson burst into tears.

.oOo.

By late evening Hiccup had to admit it was time to take a break. It had been easy enough to ride nonstop for two days straight fueled by love and the ridiculous hope everything would go perfectly and he’d return home a betrothed man. Now, his sleeplessness weighed down upon him, made heavier by the simmering bitter disappointment.

A dingy tavern’s rotting wooden sign swaying in the slight breeze. Raucous laughter squeezed out from under the rickety door. Hiccup studied the building blearily. It was the largest establishment around, it surely had hot food and a room to sleep. He would have preferred a kind farmer’s hospitality, but they could be hard to find and at this hour, most of them would be drunk and mean, and their wives scared and wary.

He dug into his saddlebag to take out a pouch of coins and a hood. A couple years ago, before he’d joined the Berk Guard, he would have had all his money in one pouch, but Sir Alvin and him had once been sent by Captain Throk on a mission to extract information, and his older comrade had given him some tips.

“Never keep yer money all in one place,” Alvin had cautioned him. “Just like you know not to show all yer money at once, you separate it against any pickpockets or the like. Plus, it’s good to be able to conjure a coin without getting into the pouch and exposing yer money.”

It had been thrilling, filtrating a bar that night. Alvin had cut quite the imposing figure, and while Hiccup didn’t have that intimidating build, he managed a warning aura just fine.

He made sure his pouch was only one third full: enough to show he had money to pay, but not enough to make himself a target. A couple coins concealed in fingerless gloves - he hadn’t mastered many tricks or sleight of hand, but he could reach them easily.

He led Toothless to the stables and brushed him down quickly before he donned his heavy hood.

He kept his head down, but his strides were purposeful. Heads turned as he walked through the door but quickly returned back to their businesses as they determined the mysterious slim man with mud spattered clothes and face concealed, but a well made dirk at his hip, didn’t pose a threat unless approached.

The tavern keeper eyed him, weighing the stranger’s possibly for bringing trouble against the allure of new coin. Strangers so rarely passed through. Hiccup leaned over the bar.

“A room and meal for the night, please.” His voice was hoarse. “And a drink.” He rarely drank, not having a taste for liquor or the effects it wrought, but tonight he could find a welcome use for it. He flipped a coin onto the bar. The owner grabbed it and pocketed it deftly.

“Yessir,” the keeper bowed his head in understanding and bustled off. Hiccup wearily cast around for a table least likely to be interrupted. He sighed in relief as his rump met the hard welcome of the old wooden chair. He huffed to himself. He felt about as old as the middle aged men he fought alongside. Actually, his father and Alvin were more spritely than him at this moment, for he felt sluggish with Astrid’s rejection.

Where had he gone wrong? He loved her - he had made it clear, hadn’t he? He hadn’t cared about all the obstacles she had cited for her rejection - was she simply trying to find an excuse instead of telling him she didn’t want him?

What he needed was a good night’s rest to lick his wounds and clear his head - maybe a drink to forget his troubles wouldn’t hurt either.

He should have known, inevitably, that nothing was that easy. He had no sooner sat down and settled, everyone’s attention off of him, for it to be transferred to two instigators.

Two hulking men, bold bald, the first with dark eyebrows, the second of the pair with blonde eyebrows and a hook instead of his left hand, made their way over to Hiccup’s side of the room. Hook-for-hand roughly pushed a few men sitting at a table off their chairs, not far from where Hiccup was sitting. The men at the table had clearly been drinking for quite some time, and one of them complained loudly as his mug emptied its contents down his shirt. Another man’s head hid the floor painfully and didn’t move, but the rise and fall of his chest told spectators he was simply unconscious, not dead.

“I should kill ya,” the first bald man with the dark eyebrows, growled. The threat was directed to a small man with a dark beard and extensive mustache. A burlap sack hat perched atop his head. He wore a bawdy red tunic over faded blue sleeves. Hiccup’s eyes widened under his hood - he knew that face: beady blue eyes, unflatteringly large nose, that too-wide obsequious smile.

What had Trader Johann gotten himself into now? Hiccup suspected this was about to become one of the impossible tales Johann was so fond of telling to his customers until bought whatever he was selling just to shut him up.

“I - I - well - I’m sure I didn’t know what you’re talking about,” Joahnn gave a false laugh, his small, sharp eyes darting nervously around the bar. Hiccup averted his eyes before the trader could recognize him. He didn’t particularly like Trader Johann and while the man sometimes brough useful information, Hiccup wasn’t sure he trusted the businessman to be discreet about the Crown Prince’s presence if it saved his own skin.

“H-How man I be of service, gentlemen?” Johann stuttered.

“Ye dirty cheat,” the first man continued to sneer. “We’ve come to collect a debt. And yer the one who’ll be paying for it.”

“Oh my,” the trader swallowed. “That truly is an honor, my boys, really. Drinks on me, certainly.”

“Not like tha’,” Hook-Man spoke up after draining Johann’s pint. He wiped the back of his left hand across his mouth and grinned menacingly.

Hiccup let out a huff no one noticed. He had told himself he wouldn't get involved, but no one else was doing anything. The rest of the pub tried to act as if they weren’t watching the happenings like a sick form of entertainment. Some of the table’s neighbors subtly declared themselves finished for the night, leaving most of the surrounding area empty.

Fear entered Johann’s pale blue eyes as no one made a move to help him. For all the contacts the man had, he had no friends willing to help.

Johann is useful, Hiccup told himself as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Bald man with dark eyebrows reached for the trader’s throat, but his hand halted as a nasally but dangerous voice rang out.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the hooded man shook his head dramatically, so they could recognize the movement even with his hood.

“Why not?” the first man asked. His companion nodded in affirmation of the question.

“I still have use for Trader Johann, you see. Alive.”

“Get lost,” the man with blonde eyebrows and a hook for his right hand growled. “He’s gotta die.”

The slim stranger held his hands up easily, a sure sign of surrender.

“Hey now,” he said placatingly. “Did I say you couldn’t have him after I’m done? No, kill him to your heart’s content after my turn.”

“This is nunya business,” the first man spat.

“Ah,” Hiccup pointed a finger at him. “But it is my business when you’re impeding my business, so how about you leave him alone? This is your last warning.”

The pair of agitators scoffed. “You think a talking fishbone like yerself would be able to take us?” They flexed their muscles, to some applause around the bar. “Bring it on.”

Hiccup shrugged. “Okay,” he agreed casually, but made no move to approach them. A beat passed, then a second. The men began to laugh at his supposed cowardice, and then he struck.

His long legs brought him to them in barely more than a stride. He punched the blonde eyebrowed man hard with a swift uppercut and doubled over the dark eyebrowed with an efficient knee to the groin. The two staggered back up, nasty grimaces on their faces.

They can take a hit, Hiccup thought, minutely impressed.

His respect for them diminished as he saw how badly they threw their fists.

He dodged each of their uncoordinated swings insultingly smoothly before stepping around and clapping their heads together with a nauseating bang.

Everyone suddenly found their own plates and tables a lot more interesting as Hiccup looked up at the room. The tavern owner rolled his eyes and muttered underneath his breath.

“Oh thank you so much Master-” Hiccup held up his hand.

“No need to address me by name, Johann,” he said firmly. He sighed. “Why don’t you give me a reason to be glad I just saved you.”

“My offer for drinks on me still stands,” Johann suggested. Hiccup pushed his hood back so the trader could see his unimpressed expression. “A-as a matter of fact, I do have some information that you wouldn’t be able to acquire anywhere else.”

“Good,” Hiccup replied curtly, eager to think of something other than Astrid. Perhaps he hadn’t needed to be that aggressive with the instigators. He would have been able to knock them out before he punched them, but, well, it wasn’t as if one threw punches at the person who rejected one’s proposal of marriage, even if one wanted to, so the two unsuspecting men were fair game. Even Trader Johann, annoying as he was, was a distraction. The merchant waved the owner over for more drinks and Hiccup settled himself in the chair with the least sticky ale on the seat.

Johann rambled on a bit about how he had come across the inn, but Hiccup knew such talk was simply to distract Hiccup from retrieving the information he had promised.

“Johann,” he interrupted sharply. “What else?”

“Oh, well you see, a while back, as I was traveling with Olav - who likes to cheat his customers by mixing water with his milk! I mean who ever-”

“I really hope this wasn’t the crucial information you were so eager to share.”

Johann’s shoulders sagged as he gave in.

“Alright,” he conceded. “Well, as I was trading my precious, one of a kind wares across the country, I overheard something interesting from one of my clients.”

“Who?” probed the prince.

“Oh, just a Captain to one of Bludvist’s small troops.” Hiccup sucked in an eager breath.

“What’d he say?” the Heir demanded.

“Oh, many things,” the trader said airily. Hiccup slammed his hand on the table, making the other man jump, but he quickly regained his composure.

“Do you know of the Red Death?” the merchant asked mysteriously.

The Red Death was the leader of the largest band of thieves and mercenaries across the Archipelago, known as the Dragons. No one knew their true identity, but sightings of the Dragons had grown fewer over the years. King Stoick had once speculated the Red Death leadership had changed, and the new one did not have as much control over their members.

“Of course, although they have rather been declining, haven’t they?”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Johann wagged his finger, nails grown over-long and crusted with dirt. “You see, according to this captain, Drago’s made a deal with the Red Death - he’s hiring all of the Dragons.”

“No,” Hiccup breathed. Was this the potential second army Bludvist could be building? Any army was formidable and unwelcome, but thousands of highly trained, near feral mercenaries? Berk - Hell, the entire Archipelago, was in grave danger. No where would be safe.

“Yes,” assured the merchant, and shuddered.

“How are they communicating? Drago and the Red Death?” Hiccup pressed.

“Through Krogan, Bludvist’s General,” answered Johann. “In fact, he’s going to meet them at an undisclosed location for business in three weeks' time.”

“Johann, you’re brilliant!” Hiccup praised him. “Do you think you could find out where this ‘undisclosed location’ is?”

“Oh, I already have it,” replied the trader.

“Great!”

“For a price,” he tutted. Hiccup’s face fell into a threatening scowl. Johann was unmoved. Hiccup sighed and brought out a pouch.

.oOo.

Four days later found the Prince back at the palace, rubbing down Toothless thoroughly and praising him for waiting in the stable while Hiccup had slept for nearly a day straight. Indeed, the inn keeper had sent his stern looking wife to check if he hadn’t died, and had seemed mildly displeased to find him just waking up and hungry.

“I need to see my Dad,” Hiccup insisted as Duke Spitelout came to greet him.

“-ve been wondering where you were this last week! Yew cannot just disappear on us like that,”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m sorry,” Hiccup raised his hands placatingly. “I just - I had something I needed to do, and this is important.” The Duke crossed his arms.

“I will inform His Majesty of your return,” he said stiffly. Hiccup groaned.

“Oh, come on! I can tell him myself if I see him now!”

“No.”

“Please!”

“He’s busy.” Hiccup pushed past his annoying uncle (why had Mom’s sister married him anyway?) and marched to the North Wing, presumably to change.

“Dad,” Hiccup entered his father’s study, still in his riding clothes, the big oak door swinging shut behind him. “I’d like to talk to you about something. It’s urgent.”

The King raised his eyebrows in shock at his son and set his drink down, the ice clinking faintly. “Oh really? I see you’re back now. Can you imagine how worried your mother has been?”

“Uh,” Hiccup paused, chagrined. “I - I’m really sorry, I wasn’t in the best headspace and all but - look, I - I’ve been . . . thinking . . . about things, and I’ve realized something important.”

His father sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Well, out with it, then,” Stoick prompted. Hiccup took a breath.

“Dad, I want to change the laws surrounding a lady’s right to inherit.” The King felt internally grateful he hadn’t been drinking anything.

“You . . . what?” he asked incredulously.

“I want-”

“Now hold on, son,” Stoick interrupted.

“What?” the young man asked impatiently. Stoick chose to ignore the insubordinate tone of voice.

“Henry,” he said gently. “You can’t just - decide to change that law! There are protocols-”

“Why not?” his son asked petulantly. “You’re the King! Can’t you just override them?”

“It’s not that easy,” Stoick countered tiredly. “Especially for such old laws. We’d need to gather a council and that would require summoning nearly all our nobles to court, which is a terrible idea due to the war-”

“Oh!” Hiccup interrupted excitedly. “I have news about that too, actually.” Stoick cast his eyes to the heavens and prayed to be given patience. His little son had been doing so well, becoming a knight easily and getting glowing reports from Captain Throk about his time in the Berk Guard, but the King struggled to see the disciplined man from the reports in the sulking son in front of him. What had he done wrong? All his manners had disappeared along with his friend, that Astor. Maybe he should look into finding a way to station that boy in court permanently, if only for his own peace of mind regarding the Heir.

“You know of the Red Death?” Hiccup questioned.

“The bandit leader, yes,” the King said with an impressive deadpan. His son let out a nervous chuckle.

“Ahem. Yeah. So-”

“I don’t see how they would pose a threat, Hiccup,” the King pointed out sternly. “We have the Berk Guard to deal with bandits, and the Red Death’s appearances have been steadily declining, both in frequency and damage caused.”

“Uh-huh. Yes. That’s true. But, you see, that’s just to keep us distracted, Dad,” Hiccup pointed at him. “I happened upon Trader Johann-”

“What on Midgard were you doing with Trader Johann, Henry?” the King boomed, exasperated.

“Er, nothing! I wasn’t trying to find him, but I did, and the point is -”

“What were you doing if you weren’t trying to find him then?” Stoick said sharply. Hiccup let out a huge sigh and his shoulders sagged.

“Do you want to hear what I have to say or not?” he scowled. His father leaned back in his chair.

It wasn’t often that Henry came into the office or shared ideas of his own free will, Stoick reasoned. Maybe it was something worth listening to. And he could say he tried when Valka got on his case again about interacting with their son. He gestured for the Prince to go on.

Hiccup squared his shoulders.

“Dad, there are things we need to change.” Hiccup spread his hands out in front of him, looking at his empty palms before dropping them to his side again. “We aren’t being torn apart by war, but it is getting in the way of our country’s progress. And what are we actively doing to try to end this war? Sure, we’re fighting, but that’s really just keeping us at a stalemate. A stalemate where people are dying.” He walked over to his father’s desk and started carefully moving things out of the way to better display the map underneath. “This,” his finger tapped the territory where Berk was fighting against the Wilderwest, “this is just the beginning of a bigger plan, Dad. Why are we still fighting when we know Drago isn’t even there?”

“How do you know-” Stoick scowled threateningly. He would have to invest in some better doors and guard rotations.

“If he isn’t there, that stands to reason Drago’s somewhere else,” Hiccup continued, pretending not to hear his father’s accusatory question. “He’s always coveted our land, we know, so did we withdraw any troops to try to cover our bases back here?”

“There is no need to inform you of all of our movements, Henry,” Stoick said stiffly. Hiccup drew himself up to look his father in the eye. He had grown, the King realized. He had grown so tall that when he was sitting and his son was standing, he had to look up, just slightly.

“I’m the Heir of Berk,” the Prince said grimly. “I should know what I’m getting into. And I’ve been avoiding my responsibilities, but, well, let’s just say someone knocked some sense into me.”

“Johann?” Stoick asked incredulously. Hiccup gave a weak chuckle.

“No,” he said softly. “Someone else.” He clenched his jaw to keep himself from saying anything more about it, and Stoick refrained from probing. He blinked a few times to clear his head and continued.

“The point is,” he went on, “Are we employing anyone to try to locate where Drago is?”

“We deployed nearly a third of the Berk Guard to the army, actually,” Stoick admitted, a little impressed with his son’s decisiveness. This was the man who coincided with Throk’s glowing reports after Henry had resigned from his position in the Berk Guard. “The fighting has picked up with renewed vigor, and Drago’s infantry is fighting differently to ours, which took us by surprise. So we are a little spread thin as it is.”

Hiccup let out a puff of air. “Okay,” he nodded absently, calculating to himself. “Johann has given me a lead. According to him, Drago is hiring out the Red Death’s Dragons. Has been for years.” Stoick paled.

“That’s right. Thousands of bandits who gave us plenty of trouble when we only had to deal with a dozen of them at a time. We thought Drago’s resources were running thin - and maybe they were, but I’m afraid that’s only pushing him to win this war faster. And he’s been planning this for years; the Dragons haven’t died out, they’ve simply been leaving to go to Drago. But we still thought we knew where Drago’s army was, and haven’t seen much of an increase of soldiers where they are fighting, which makes me think maybe Drago’s planning to attack us somewhere else, somewhere our guard is down.” Stoick stayed silent. Such thoughts had been bugging him in the back of his mind and he had refused to hear them, but now his son laying out the facts in front of him made him convinced that Henry was right.

“How did we not know this?” He asked despairingly. “Have we not tried to get information from Johann before? Why tell us now? How did you even extract this information?” He didn’t think of his son as able to potentially torture information out of someone, but what did he know?

“I saved his life. Again,” the Crown Prince shrugged his shoulders casually. “But,” he frowned. “I don’t think we should trust Johann as often as we do. He trades with Drago’s armies too.” Stoick growled.

“When this war is over, he shall be banished,” he vowed.

“But he has given us valuable information,” Hiccup reminded his father. “He said that apparently Drago’s General Krogan is meeting with the Red Death - he doesn’t know why, but I suspect it’s probably to get a move on. Dad, I think we’re on the cusp of something dangerous here.”

“Aye, I’d say so too,” Stoick agreed. “When and where is this . . . meeting . . . happening?”

“In about three weeks time,” Hiccup reported, “But I’d go earlier, scout the land out first and all.”

“And where is this?” the King prompted.

“I, uh - oh!” Hiccup patted himself down. “It’s uh - it’s in my bags but it’s right around here.” He took a pencil and drew a circle a little to the north of Raven’s Point.

“That’s about a fortnight’s ride from here in a group,” Stoick shook his head. “And we’d need another two weeks to gather enough forces here . . .” he trailed off in frustration.

“Well Toothless and I could reach there in ten days,” Hiccup said contemplatively. “And we’d probably only need a few days of rest before we go. I um, I rode him pretty hard this week and he deserves a rest.” Stoick hesitated at the thought of letting his son ride into such danger. Hiccup’s mouth pulled into a wry smile.

“Let me do it. It’ll be a stealth mission; I’ll recon and find out what’s happening and report back to you. Please. Let me do something,” he pleaded with his father. The King sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. His son was trying to step up, despite his previous reluctance in taking on the kingdom’s tasks. Something had happened, clearly, for his heir to suddenly be barging into his office and offering to participate in changing old laws probably in need of being reviewed and helping with the war he had always found distasteful.

“Do it, then,” Stoick acquiesced, suddenly desperate for a nap or a brick of ice to hold to his head. “By all means, go. I’ll get preparations started while you go tell your mother.” Hiccup winced but nodded and turned to leave.

“And Henry,” he called. The prince stopped short of the door and tilted his head back to look at his father.

“Yeah?” Hiccup asked.

“I’ll start drafting the letters to summon a council,” the King promised. “You’re right; it’s time to change some things around here.”

“Really?” Hiccup checked, a strange feeling in his throat. Stoick nodded encouragingly.

“Thanks, Dad.” He slipped through the office door and stood there for a minute, just staring down the hallway. There was a lightness to him despite the lump in his throat that hadn’t left in the past few days. It felt like a happy melancholy. He was doing something, he was initiating the change that needed to happen, and if there was one thing to come out of his failed proposal, maybe it was that. And maybe once he’d accomplished this task he could go back to Astrid and just - and just tell her thank you one more time. For being her. For being honest and unafraid to smack some sense into his head. For making him a better person even when he didn’t want to be. And maybe - maybe he’d finally be worthy of her.

.oOo.

Astrid gulped as she entered the palace grounds. The guards at the gate called greetings to her and she nodded sedately at them but didn’t remove her helmet. She was here on a mission, but it hadn’t been worth cutting the hair she had spent so long growing out. And the wigs were so itchy.

Not that that mattered. It had been a week since she had last seen Hiccup. They had gone longer without seeing each other, of course, but never on such bad terms. Even when she had been mad at him for not telling her his identity (the irony was not lost on her) before they became friends (but even then, she had been shocked at how hurt she had felt from his not trusting her with who he was. She had already been walking along the path that led her heart to him, even if she hadn’t realized it then.) it had been she who was mad at him, and that had made forgiving so much easier.

It was harder to forgive him when he was the one with more of a right to be mad at her.

There was no hearty greeting from any of the Royal family. The palace seemed rather quiet, but Astrid could sense a silent hum and bustle as if everyone was scurrying around quietly to prepare for something. She knew that feeling well; it had been her favorite feeling as a young teenager during the preparations for her surprise birthday parties. If she had had a goal any less important than finding Hiccup immediately, she might have stopped to try to figure out what the castle was preparing for.

“Hullo, Sir Hofferson!” Bucket greeted Astrid as she located him by the kitchens.

“Good day, Bucket,” she greeted him in return. “Is . . . the Prince available to see me?” The servant made a face.

“Oh. Uh, well, y’see, he’s kinda busy, His Highness is.” A heaviness settled in Astrid’s stomach, like a ship filling with water before it sank.

“Busy with what?” she asked lightly, hoping there was a plausible reason he was avoiding her. Bucket frowned.

“I, err, I can’t say, Sir. ‘S classified, you see.”

“Ah.” Yes she did. She was glad the helmet she was wearing obscured part of her face. Oh dear Thor, she had messed everything up, hadn’t she? Hiccup didn’t want to see her. She nodded her thanks to Bucket and began to make her way back to the stables.

But wait! Hiccup may not want to see her, but she did, dammit. And she would. She marched to the stables, but not to get Stormfly; just because the Prince was trying to avoid her didn’t mean she couldn’t find him herself. And if Hiccup was anywhere - besides the forge - he was with Toothless, who was commonly found in the stables. And if Hiccup and Toothless were already out of the stables, well, Stormfly and her knew where their friends liked to ride.

She had never really fought with Hiccup before. They had their differences, yes, but it was rare they turned to disputes. They had a higher tolerance of each other’s snappiness than anyone else, but on the few occasions words had risen to flared tempers and sullen faces, after stalking off and employing the cold shoulder for a couple of hours, they inevitably found each other and resumed their easy comradery, dispute forgotten, or at least, firmly in the past.

Which made Astrid realize the fact that she had never truly apologized to Hiccup before. She didn’t think of herself as narrow-minded or averse to trying new things - surely her history of experiments with the Prince could attest to that - and yet. It was going to be very hard to apologize to him.

Not because she would have to admit she was wrong. Well, she didn’t like being incorrect, but if there was anyone she didn’t mind admitting her imperfections to, it was Hiccup. She had trusted him with her greatest secret, and they had never lost their closeness - what were a few mistakes after that to him?

So why was she anxious about owning up to this mistake?

Because she had hurt him this time. And not the kind of hurt like when she’d accidentally punched a painful bruise, or given him that bruise to begin with during sparring. She had hurt him. The part of him she so treasured, that unique person who she had fallen in love with so thoroughly and scrambled her mind and altered her heart so it wasn’t hers, but his, and it was only residing in her chest for safekeeping..

She had seen it in his face, that flash of hurt as shields had slid over his eyes, defending his display of vulnerability. She had seen that expression so many times over the years, but never before had she been the cause of it. His defensive barbs had simultaneously affected her less and yet hurt her more, because he was hurting. And she had noted the way he had been her goodbye at last, holding himself stiffly, but with that raw note of pain in his voice. His fists that had been clenched to hold in his anger, were now clenched to hold in his tears.

The basis of every apology was ‘I’m sorry,’ Astrid knew. But how could two measly words ever repair the damage she had wrought?

The Prince was indeed in the stables, securing a rather heavy looking sack to Toothless’s saddle.

“I was hoping I’d find you here,” she said, grateful for the steadiness of her voice. She leaned against a stall nonchalantly, her heart beating a nervous rhythm. She hadn’t flipped the visor of her helmet, which meant he couldn’t see her face. Hiccup swung towards her with wide eyes.

“As - um, Hofferson! What ah, what a . . . surprise?! I - what are, um. You doing here?” He frowned confusedly, and Astrid noted bitterly that the usual light in his eyes when he beheld her was gone. Why, oh why, had she not noticed how in love with her he was? Or had been, now. Why had she pushed him away and lost him?

“I came to see you,” she said frankly. She opened her mouth to say something only to find her mind blank.

Hiccup looked at her impassively. “Go on.”

She had always laughed when Hiccup used to complain to her about his father putting him on the spot and forcing him to make speeches. Hiccup was surprisingly good at impromptu speeches, so she never let him sulk for too long about something he thought he could have done better but which everyone else was impressed with the result. She had been put on the spot before for strategy, on the occasional chance that a superior was out of commission, and she had always handled it calmly, for the most part. But people’s lives weren’t in the balance, only the remnants of whatever she and the Prince had. Even when she had confessed to being a girl, he had finished her sentence for her, completing her like only he could. She had a feeling he wouldn’t try to make it easier on her by guessing what she was saying.

“Hic- um, Henry,” the name felt foreign on her tongue. She had never called him by his actual name before. She could recognize it when someone else called him that; it was like her name, or not-name. Everyone knew her as Astor and him as Henry, but to each other, they were Hiccup and Astrid, and those had been the names that mattered. The Prince looked pained at her use of his proper name, too.

“I wanted to see you,” she said honestly. “I -” she let out a heavy breath and shook her head. “I hate the way we left things.” Hiccup opened his mouth as if he wanted to interject, but thought better of it.

“The truth is, I - you caught me at a bad moment, and things came to the surface that probably shouldn't have. A lot . . . changed . . . during the time I was away and your arrival triggered some - issues.” Hiccup crossed his arms and leaned against Toothless, who was looking at her impassively. Great. His horse was mad at her too.

This was stupid. There was no way she could explain things to him without delving deep into her feelings, and she wasn’t ready for that. Maybe she’d never be. And Hiccup had every right to be mad at her, and she was mad at him, she’d realized. Yelling those things at him had made her realize frustrations she hadn’t known existed, and she was angry at Hiccup for not seeing what she needed before she did, but she also knew that was unfair. She had no right to be mad at him for not doing anything when it had never occurred to her to try to bring about those changes herself. She had thought that maybe she could convince Mother and Father to let her be a knight a little while longer so she could try to change the law. Maybe she could eventually find a way to reconcile with Hiccup, so he could be Hiccup to her again. Maybe she could even get him to fall in love with her again. She had thought all of those things were possible, but now, standing in front of him with a helmet masking her face, she couldn’t even manage to apologize. She had only muttered excuses. She turned away, shame coursing through her body and flushing her face inside the metal. She hoped her breathing stayed quiet, for the metal magnified each sound and she didn’t want Hiccup to think she was crying.

Hiccup let out a breath, more disappointed than anything, and started to take a step toward her turned back. Astrid interpreted the noise differently, however, and stiffened.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted and whirled around, starting as she saw Hiccup closer than she expected. He stumbled back a step in surprise and flung his hands up in the air in surrender but she continued. “I’m sorry for hurting you but I’m not sorry for the things I said.”

Hiccup regained his balance and Astrid took another step closer. “I’m sorry I never said anything,” she went on. “I’m sorry you never did anything! I’m sorry for not telling you to leave. I’m sorry I didn’t make you come back. I’m sorry for yelling at you instead of just telling you what was troubling me. I’m sorry I kept trying to push you away,” the last word was hard to say as her throat was clogging up. No. She did not want to sound like she was crying, dammit. She wasn’t crying, for Thor’s sake! She was just emotional, and she didn’t want to be, so she took another step towards Hiccup and shoved his chest. It wasn’t forceful, and he caught her arm with a gentleness that made her want to collapse into him and just let him hold her up for her.

“I’m sorry I fell in love with you,” she said angrily, her voice rising. She sniffled a little bit. “I’m sorry I never told you I love you back,” she said thickly. “I’m sorry for all the times I didn’t realize you loved me too, and I’m sorry for leaving, and I’m sorry for losing you right after I had you. I’m sorry this world isn’t perfect yet, and I’m sorry for what people say about you, and I’m sorry for thinking badly of them for saying those things, and I’m sorry ‘sorry’ doesn’t sound nearly sorry enough because I don’t know how to apologize properly and -” She cut off as she felt a tear roll down her cheek so she raised her hand on instinct in hopes of wiping it away quickly enough to Hiccup not to notice, only to realize that she still had that metal helmet on, and she had just given herself away.

Hiccup noticed because, drat him, he always did, and he began to raise the visor of her armor. Fuck. “No,” she whimpered brokenly but made no move to stop him, so he continued until she felt the kiss of fresh air on her face.

“I dunno,” he said softly as he wiped the tear from her red face. “That was probably the best damn apology I’ve ever heard.” She didn’t look up at his face, choosing to watch the rise and fall of her hand on his chest - she hadn’t stopped touching him since she’d shoved him - because what kind of Hofferson cried during an apology??

“Hey,” he said, cupping her face, not an ounce of disgust for her sniffling and crying or even pity for how pathetic she was, just pure compassion. “Hey, it’s okay to cry.” He handed her a handkerchief and waited for her to finally meet his gaze. “I have an apology for you too, you know.” Astrid smiled wetly and resisted the urge to bury her face in his shoulder.

“You had a right to say all those things, and you were right. I’ll admit I was angry and hurt but you made me think about everything, Astrid. And I’m sorry for not doing anything sooner.”

“What did you do?” she asked him, half warily, half scoldingly.

“Well, for starters, I talked to Dad.” He made a pained expression. “Unfortunately, such important laws based on generations of prejudice will take a while to undo - years, he said. But, I’ve convinced him to summon a council as soon as possible so we can propose an Amendment.” Astrid blinked rapidly, trying to process that. She had been expecting to have to publicly advocate and eventually find a sponsor to be able to bring the matter up to the King, so then summon a council, but Hiccup had just skipped those steps.

“I know it’s not much,” he defended himself in a rush, “but at least we’ve started, right?” He shrugged his shoulders in that over-exaggerated way of his. Astrid’s mouth parted in stunned surprise.

That perfect, irritating genius.

“You didn’t,” she breathed incredulously, searching his eyes to see if it was all a joke. “You . . . you did all that?”

“Yeah,” Hiccup said, like it was obvious. “Of course.”

Astrid hesitated. “For . . . me?” she whispered tentatively. She bit her lip immediately, cursing herself for such a foolish question.

Hiccup broke into a beautiful toothy grin. “Who else?” he asked her, like she had the answer to that question. “Well,” he amended. “There was a selfish component too, but . . . mostly for you. Yeah.”

She wanted to cry, but she wasn’t going to. This idiot wasn’t going to make her cry three times in a week, or so help her Odin. “Even though . . . even after . . .”

Hiccup gave her a soft smile. “You apologized for that,” he waved his hand as if that was the end of it. “And, I was sorry too, you know? I just - wanted something to show for before I came back to apologize, and then you came and did it first.” Astrid shook her head in disbelief.

“So, are we . . . okay?” Hiccup asked hopefully. Astrid couldn’t help herself: she hugged him fiercely, burying his face into his firm shoulder and inhaling deeply. His arms wrapped around her tightly and didn’t let go until she loosened her arms around him first.

“We’re good,” Astrid agreed, wanting to tuck her hair behind her ear as she pulled away but her helmet was still on. Her eyes drifted towards Toothless, watching them with wary approval, and she frowned as she noticed the saddle bags. Why did he have saddle bags? Hadn’t he just got back to Berk Palace? He wasn’t the type of man who was constantly hungry, at least, not when she offered to cook. Hiccup’s eyes followed hers to Toothless and his gear.

“Ah,” he said, understanding her thoughts before she did.

“What are those for?” she asked, a little accusingly. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Oh, haha, yeah, that . . .” Hiccup scratched the back of his head. “Um, well, if you’ll remember, changing laws wasn’t the only thing you yelled at me about.” Astrid’s brain took a moment to compute.

“Hiccup!” she cried, outraged. “You can’t just - stop the war!”

“I know,” he placated her. “I can’t do it myself. But I can be one of the people who help stop this war.”

“You- ugh!” she rolled her eyes. “What are you doing then?”

“Trying to intercept one of Drago’s Generals,” Hiccup said seriously. “Krogan. We think he’s hiring the Red Death’s Dragons.” Astrid’s jaw dropped.

“Where is this taking place?” she asked.

“Ah, I can’t tell you that,” he tsked. “It’s classified.” Astrid scoffed.

“Well, who’s going with you?” she demanded. Hiccup didn’t answer.

“You’re going alone?” she exclaimed angrily. Hiccup shrugged and nodded at the same time.

“Yeah. The meeting’s in less than three weeks’ time, and that’s not long enough to gather a proper squad.”

“No,” Astrid said firmly.

“What?”

“You’re not going alone.”

“I can’t just wait around for - oh,” his face lit up as he understood.

“I can’t let you just risk your life like that on your own,” Astrid said haughtily.

“Could Stormfly take the journey? We’re going to Raven’s Point.”

“Oh, so now the location isn’t classified,” Astrid said saucily. “And she’ll be fine; I rode her pretty gently on the way here.”

“I’ll go get you some food and meet you back here then,” Hiccup said excitedly.

“Half an hour,” Astrid promised. She practically ran to her mare, buzzing with a happy thrill. Stormfly seemed pleased at the prospect of leaving, too. Astrid exercised her enough to keep her in good shape, but it had been a while since she’d raced with her old friend Toothless.

Hiccup met her at the stables with a huge pack of supplies and more coins, and showed her the map he’d acquired from Trader Johann while he explained their route.

“Are you ready?” he asked her as she mounted Stormfly, who tossed her head regally.

“Of course,” Astrid assured him. He swung up onto Toothless, checking his bags a last time before clicking softly to the horse to start moving. She felt better than she had in months, in fact. The alluring promise of the end of the war called to her, and with Hiccup by her side, there was nowhere else she’d rather be.

The evening bell began to ring as they passed the gates, and they set off in a steady trot northwest, into the setting sun.

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nomazee · 5 months

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another thing i love about melodramatic reader is that not only to they feel every emotion intuitively, they broadcast them without shame to the right person. other character might complain, but reader ultimately trusts them with their grievances and monologues and rants,,,

auuughfhhhh

GWEN ur so true so real so right... melodramatic reader and their seemingly thoughtless rambling but everything they share is so deep and intimate and raw their partner doesn't even realize that they're hearing everything for a REASON... they are the most trusted person in their life and all reader's secrets and inner thoughts are safe with them no matter the sheer volume of things they share

also love the idea of a reader ONLY being dramatic around their partner and when that character asks around and is like "what do you mean they don't sit you down and make you listen to their hour-long spiel about their annoying coworkers and also what they ate for dinner and also the birds they saw on their morning walk" and everyone is like Hey that's actually JUST you

#nora answers #i love writing dramatic readers #dramatic and theatric and loud #when they get a mild cough they're writhing around in bed begging for mercy #and their partner is like “can you be normal for a minute” but they relent to reader's theatrics after exactly ten seconds #and you could ramble so exaggeratedly about every single detail of your day but they'd still remember it somehow because Of Course They Wou #like yes i find you annoying but not actually and i will care for you and listen to you always #hm... veritas ratio and dan heng... every fic i write abt them is like this #idiots in love but its one loud idiot (reader) and one oblivious reader (character)#this is how i felt writing the dan heng drabble about the reader getting drunk in belobog #“dan heng put me out of my misery” while ur clinging onto him and holding back love confessions #and he jsut makes you rinse your mouth with mouthwash because he has no clue how to address The Elephant In The Room #what an idiot.............love him forever

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wildwestdean · 3 months

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impetus

summary: dean gets targeted by a witch while working a case, and she curses him to yearn for what he secretly loves the most. it seems to have no effect, until it's pointed out that he can't seem to stay away from you - but what happens when he tries to fight it?

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

word count: 9.4k+

warnings: violence, hunting/working a case, mentions of murders, gore, evil witches, reader and dean get attacked, swearing, alcohol consumption, angst, fluff, yearning, mutual pining, idiots oblivious to their own feelings, magical curses, hallucinations, nightmares, depictions of death, depictions of drowning, fighting/arguments, heart-to-heart, confessions, use of [y/n], nicknames, mature themes

“Right, well, this isn’t creepy at all,” Dean declared, rolling Baby to a stop before switching into park.

You both sat quietly as you surveyed the desolate building, a feeling of unease washing over you.

“Maybe we should wait for Sam,” you suggested half heartedly. He was only down at the Sheriff’s station, and it wouldn’t even take ten minutes for him to meet you here, but you knew Dean wouldn’t wait.

“No,” he said, confirming what you already knew. “Someone else is missing and this is our best lead so far. If you don’t want to go in, that's fine, but I am.”

“I’m not letting you go in there alone,” you snapped, sitting up as tall as you could despite the pit forming in your stomach.

“Awe, you worried about me, sweetheart?” Dean teased, turning to look at you with a grin; one that was effectively wiped from his face when he saw the look in your eyes. “Hey, what is it?”

“I don’t know,” you said honestly, shrugging lightly. “I just have a bad feeling about this.”

“Bad feeling like what?” he questioned, his brows knitting together.

You thought about it, trying to pinpoint what it was you felt, but you couldn’t. “Just…. don’t go wandering off,” you ended up saying- begging, more like.

“Alright,” he agreed easily. “We stick together, and we’ll be in and out before you know it.”

“Right,” you confirmed with a nod. “Let’s gear up.”

You exited the car as quietly as you could, making your way around to the back as Dean unlocked the trunk and propped up the panel to the arsenal.

“You and Sam better be right about this,” he muttered, digging out the box of witch-killing bullets.

Your mind raced through the details of the case: An exsanguinated priest, a dead nun with her tongue ripped out, the president of the high schools abstinence club found without a heart, and various livestock missing various body parts - if this wasn’t a witch, you were a little scared to find out what else it could be.

“We have to be,” you breathed out, loading your ammo.

“Can you do me a favour and sound at least a little confident?” he asked playfully, lightly nudging your arm with his own before tucking his gun into his jeans.

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, holstering your own gun.

“It’s alright,” he said earnestly, handing you your favourite knife (one that used to be his before you claimed it as your own). “I’m just not used to seeing you so spooked.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly as you took the knife from him. “I’m not used to feeling spooked.”

“We’ll make it through,” he consoled, closing up the trunk. “Just like we always do.”

“Just like we always do,” you echoed with a nod, following him towards the building.

The overgrowth brushed your calves as you made your way up the walk, and after a quick survey of the facade, Dean swung the door open after picking the lock.

“Wait!” you hissed, stopping him before he entered. “Sam does know we’re here, right?”

You watched as his shoulders shrugged before stepping inside. “Probably.”

“That’s… comforting,” you sighed, following him across the threshold.

The two of you did a quick preliminary sweep of the main level before making your way to the top floor, finding nothing of significance in any of the rooms. Making your way back down, you both stopped dead in your tracks as you heard a clatter come from beneath you.

“Of course there’s a basement,” Dean whispered. “Why wouldn’t the creepy ass witch be in the creepy ass basement of this creepy ass house?”

“How do you know she’s a creepy ass witch?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. “Maybe she’s hot. Or a guy. Or both.”

He faltered over his response, considering your words for a moment. “I’ll bet whatever tab you drink up at the bar once we end up ganking this bitch. She’s creepy.”

“Deal,” you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

You both chuckled, before another noise from the basement drew your attention back to the case at hand. Dean awkwardly cleared his throat before leading the way in search of the basement entrance, using the occasional noise as guidance.

“God, I hate witches,” he muttered to himself, slapping away cobwebs as he descended the stairs.

“I don’t think the witch put those webs there,” you said with a snicker.

“No, they’re just the one turning this rotting corpse of a house into a lair of evil and despair,” he hissed.

You rolled your eyes in response, unable to stop the fond smile from creeping onto your face as you made it to the bottom of the stairs.

A muffled cry caught your attention, and Dean spared you a quick look before running in the direction it came from, you hot on his heels. Coming up on a corner, he slowed to a halt and peered around the wall.

“It looks clear,” he decided after a moment. “Just be careful,” he added, continuing on his way.

Upon turning the corner, you were enveloped in the warm glow of candles, which would have been nice, had it not been for the rest of the scene. An altar lay at the far wall, burning candelabras stood in each corner of the room, and the very person you were searching for was bound and gagged in a chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by a circle of candles.

Dean cursed and muttered under his breath, surveying the room. “I’ll get him, you get the altar.“

“Okay,” you agreed, running across the room. Once you reached the altar, you couldn’t help but stare in shock and disgust for a moment as you took in the sight; all the missing body parts seemingly staring back at you from where they lay soaked in blood. It took Dean shouting your name from across the room to bring you back to your senses, and you quickly upturned the altar as Dean instructed the now freed man to get out as fast as possible and wait by the car. As soon as the contents of the altar were scattered, an ear piercing shriek came from behind you.

Quickly whirling on your heels, you were greeted by a cloaked figure, who seemingly came out of nowhere.

“What have you done?” she screamed, dropping her hood as she stared daggers into you.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you feigned innocence. “Did I ruin your big plan?”

“You ruined everything!” she shrieked, slowly approaching you. “You’ll pay for this!”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Dean called out from behind her.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?! How many centuries passed by until the circumstances were right? I had it! I had it all! I was one spell away from seeing my love again!” she continued to scream, advancing further towards you as she ignored Dean.

“Back off, Grunhilda!” Dean roared from behind her, drawing his gun.

“No!” she shrieked, barely lifting her hand in order to easily swing his gun away - and stop you from drawing your own. “You stupid little gnat. You think you can just come in here and mess with things you don’t understand? You think you can take this from me?!”

Her shouting was drowned out by the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears, your entire body feeling like it was on fire as your throat constricted, the air leaving your lungs and not returning. You felt your bones cracking beneath your skin as your feet left the floor, and you shared a look of terror with Dean before black began to cloud the edges of your vision.

Without an effective weapon handy, Dean rushed the witch and tackled her to the floor, sending you crashing down. You met the concrete with a thud, and it knocked the rest of your senses out of you. You laid there for who knows how long, fighting off the waves of pain and nausea, willing yourself to move as you listened to the struggle happening a few feet away from you.

By the time you managed to prop yourself up, Dean was pinned down as she advanced on him, and you desperately looked around for either of your guns.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” you heard her ask, menace laced deep in her words. “To want something so desperately, to feel that desire within your very soul?!”

Dean struggled against her hold as you struggled to pick yourself up, to at least crawl to a weapon if you had to.

“Well you will,” she sneered, cackling to herself. “You’ll know how it feels. To have what you want the very most to be so close to you, to have it at the edge of your fingertips, only to never be able to grasp it! For it to be the only thing you can think about!”

“Shut the hell up,” Dean seethed through clenched teeth, glaring at her.

She only stepped closer towards him, cackling to herself. “Your strongest yearning, hidden deep in your heart, will nevermore be yours to part. Be it with sun or with rain, that which brings joy won’t be without pain.”

“You finished yet?” Dean interrupted, before he had the wind knocked out of him, rendering him silent.

Moving as quickly as you could without being noticed, you closed in on Dean’s pistol while the witch carried on.

“Whatever you crave you cannot say, yet you’ll seek it out be it night or day,” she continued, hovering over him. “Consider yourself lucky, you useless toad. I’ve had countless lifetimes yearning to see my love again, and I’ll spend lifetimes more. At least you only have this one measly little life to yearn for what you want.”

Grasping the gun in your hands, you carefully rose to your feet and steadied yourself to take aim. “Man, you really do talk too much,” you huffed out.

The shot rang out just as she turned towards you, though it was silenced by a roaring wind that accompanied a bright blue light. Within seconds, everything was calm and quiet again.

Fighting every urge you had to collapse back onto the floor, you trudged your way over to Dean in an attempt to help him up.

“God, I told you she’d be creepy,” he gasped out, groaning as he stood.

“You want a prize?” you asked incredulously, staring up at him.

“I wanna get the hell out of here,” he said, ushering you to take leave. “Then I want those drinks you owe me.”

After what felt like another entire day, you and Dean had dropped the victim off at the hospital, patched each other up, cleaned out the basement, showered, and filled Sam in on everything that went down.

“So… she cursed you?” Sam asked curiously, trying to understand.

“I dunno. She tried to, I guess,” Dean replied nonchalantly. “But [Y/N/N] put a bullet in her. No witch, no curse, right?”

Sam shared a brief look with you, before turning back to Dean. “Yeah, but… there was no body.”

“What?” Dean asked gruffly.

“The witch,” you said. “I shot, but she vanished. What if she isn’t dead?”

“Well, I feel normal, so I’m gonna say she’s dead,” Dean declared with a shrug. “Now, can we head to the bar? I’m in desperate need of a drink… or twelve.”

Without waiting for an answer, he quickly stood and donned his jacket before looking back at you and Sam. “You guys coming or what?”

“Oh, do I have a choice to not go?” you asked playfully.

“You can stay if you want, but your wallet comes with me,” he replied, smiling innocently.

“Alright, let’s go,” you said with a dramatic sigh, grabbing your own jacket.

Not long after, the three of you were sliding into a booth in the nearest dive, enjoying the lack of people; you guys seriously needed to decompress.

“Alright, I’ll be back,” you declared, hopping out of the booth to get the first round of drinks.

“Make sure you get a tab started!” Dean jokingly called after you.

You flipped him off in response, taking a seat at the bar after placing your order. While you waited, Sam watched as Dean grew more restless in his seat.

“Dude, what the hell is your problem?” he finally asked, eyeing Dean as he fidgeted anxiously.

“What?” Dean asked cluelessly, glancing around the bar. “I’m thirsty. She’s been gone for what, like, half an hour?”

“It’s… barely been two minutes, Dean,” Sam informed him with an amused grin.

“Yeah, well. I want my beer,” Dean mumbled, tapping his fingers on the table as he glanced around once more. “I’m gonna go see if she needs help.”

Before Sam could even reply, Dean was already halfway across the bar, meeting you just as you got your final drink.

“Need a hand?” Dean asked cheerfully, his sudden appearance making you jump. “Sorry,” he added with a snicker.

“Dick,” you muttered with a laugh, hopping down from the stool. “Here you go,” you added, handing him his beer.

“Awesome,” he beamed, taking the bottle from your outstretched hand.

He followed closely as you made your way back to the table, handing Sam his drink before sliding into the booth; Dean followed suit, leaving you nestled in between him and the wall.

The three of you had a few more rounds before Dean slipped away, determined to teach a lesson to the arrogant ass harassing players around the pool tables - just because you didn’t need to hustle people anymore didn’t mean it wasn’t still fun every now and then. You watched him fondly, laughing quietly to yourself as you watched him fumble around with his cue before making a terrible break. Harder than it looks, you could just hear him say.

Your attention was turned back to Sam when he cleared his throat, and you were met with his questioning gaze. “Does he seem weird to you?”

“Weird how?” you asked, face scrunched in confusion.

“I don’t know, strange,” he replied with a small shrug. “Like- like antsy or something.”

Your eyes flit back across the room to Dean, who was very much in his element as he upped his ante, before focusing on Sam again. “I haven’t noticed anything, Sammy.”

He sighed in resignation, seeming to already know that would be your response. “It’s probably nothing, just forget I said anything,” he replied, shaking his head dismissively before finishing his drink.

“If you say so,” you muttered quietly, sipping your drink as you cast a worried gaze across the bar, getting lost in thought.

By the time you each finished another round of drinks, Dean made his way back over to the table; much to the surprise of you and Sam.

“Done so soon?” Sam questioned, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged, sliding back into the seat beside you.

“But you only played one round,” you said quizzically.

“So?” Dean wondered, gulping down the rest of his beer.

“So, you usually play a lot more than that,” Sam pitched in, shifting his gaze between you and Dean.

Dean sighed, his bottle clanging on the table as he set it back down. “Why am I getting the third degree here? I played a game, he learned his lesson, I got over it. End of story.”

“Okay, grouchy,” you snickered, ruffling his hair a little just because you knew he hated it. Except he really did love it when it was you doing it.

“Whatever, anyone want another round?” he asked with a huff, lightly swatting your hand away.

“No, I’m gonna call it a night,” you admitted, shifting to slip your jacket back on.

“Yeah, me too,” Sam declared, starting to stand from the table.

Dean stood as well, assumingly just to let you out. “Alright, let’s go.”

You and Sam both stilled in your movements at his response, sharing a shocked look with each other. “You’re… coming with us?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked with a scoff, shrugging his jacket on as he looked questioningly between you and Sam. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you guys?”

“We just didn’t expect you to call it a night so early,” Sam explained helplessly. “Gettin’ old, huh?” he added, trying to lighten the mood a little.

“Yeah, I mean, you barely even wracked up a tab!” you declared with a laugh, before grinning mischievously. “Drinks just don’t agree with you anymore, do they, old man?”

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes, fixing his collar just to busy his hands. “Okay, alright, one more wisecrack and I’m leaving you both here.”

Despite the finality in his tone, the amusement dancing in his eyes gave him away - as did the hand he extended to you to help you slide from the booth.

“Whatever you say, grandpa,” Sam teased, patting Dean on the shoulder before walking away with laughter in his wake. “I’ll be outside!”

You chuckled in response, and the stern look Dean gave you only made you laugh even more. “Yeah, yeah. Hurry it up, chuckles,” he chided, wiggling his fingers at you. He surveyed the bar as you finally took hold of his hand, sliding out from your seat with ease and standing before him. “Ready?” he asked, gaze turning back to look down at you.

“Yeah, I just gotta go pay,” you replied, nodding your head in the direction of the bar counter.

“Alright,” he said with a nod. He gave your hand a squeeze, though instead of letting go like he normally would, he held it firmly as he led the way across the bar.

You followed along quietly, trying your hardest to not read too much into it. Though when you stood before the bar and he had yet to release your hand, you gave him a puzzled look. “Did you wanna go get the car?” you asked hesitantly.

He looked confused for a moment, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on either, before he cleared his throat with a curt nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll meet you out there. Don’t take too long,” he rushed, giving your hand another fleeting squeeze before shuffling away.

Strange, you thought briefly, before shifting your attention to the bartender before you.

As you paid the tab, Dean settled into the driver's seat of Baby, and Sam watched him impatiently drum his fingers against the wheel as he hummed along to whatever song was in his head; and he couldn’t help but snort a laugh as Dean checked his watch one, two, three times since getting into the car.

“You’re ridiculous,” Sam chided with a laugh, shaking his head.

“What?” Dean inquired, annoyance clear in his voice.

“Dude, please tell me you see what’s going on,” Sam pleaded.

Dean widened his eyes in confusion, glancing around the near empty parking lot before looking back at his brother. “What’s going on?”

Before Sam could reply, their attention was caught by the opening of the bar’s door when you emerged from the building, a grin forming on your face as you caught sight of them waiting in the car.

Dean matched your grin, quickly reaching for the door handle and scrambling outside. “There she is!” he greeted happily, opening the back door for you.

“Fucking idiot,” Sam muttered to himself, staring out the window with an amused grin as you and Dean settled into your seats.

The three of you made it back in no time, and, having to settle for a single bed when first getting to town over driving for another who-knows-how-long just to find another motel, shuffled out of the car and into your shared room with heavy feet.

“Finally,” Dean muttered with relief, shutting the door behind him as Sam took a seat. “Whoa, whoa,” Dean barked, holding up a hand. “What’re you doing?”

Sam froze just as he sat on the bed, staring up at his brother. “What?”

“That’s my bed,” Dean declared with a huff.

“No, it’s not,” Sam answered with a scoff. “It’s your turn for the couch.”

“Dude, I’m not sleeping on the pull-out!” Dean declared with finality.

“What, are you kidding me?” Sam asked incredulously. “You got the bed last time!”

“Yeah, and I just got ragdolled by a crazy ass witch, I deserve a mattress!” Dean argued, stepping towards the bed. “Get up.”

“No,” Sam argued stubbornly, relaxing further atop the sheets.

“You guys are ridiculous,” you said with an exasperated sigh, walking across the room. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Not a chance,” Dean denied, not even sparing you a glance.

“What, why?” you asked in confusion.

“First of all, I’m not sharing with Sam,” Dean replied, turning to look at you. “Second, you got it worse than I did. I’m not shoving you on a pull-out.”

“Oh, please-” you started to argue, before he cut you off.

“I patched you up myself, [Y/N]. Don’t bother trying to lie to me,” he cautioned.

You opened your mouth to argue once more, but the look on his face stopped you short. “Whatever,” you mumbled, turning towards the bathroom. “I’m getting ready for bed. Figure this out before I get back so I can actually go to bed, please.”

The bickering resumed as you quickly retreated, shutting the bathroom door on Dean’s disgruntled declaration of “best two out of three.”

By the time you re-entered the room, you were met with silence. Surveying the surroundings, you found Sam digging through his toiletries bag while sitting in his original spot on the bed. Your gaze snapped over to the couch, where Dean sat looking like a kicked puppy.

“You went with scissors again, didn’t you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

He met your gaze as Sam snickered behind you, causing his face to sour even more. “Shut up,” he mumbled before standing, bristling past you with slumped shoulders.

You chuckled quietly to yourself and grabbed the spare sheets, quickly making up the pull-out for Dean while he got ready; hopefully he’d be a little less cranky about it all if this was at least already done.

Once finished, you made your way over to the bed and curled up under the covers. After saying a quick goodnight to Sam, you were asleep before Dean even left the bathroom.

Fear gnawed at Dean, his body frozen in place as a cold spread through him, panic clinging to him like ice. He tried to call out to you, but all that left him was a strangled breath as his lungs seized up. He watched as the waves carried you away, further and further from where he stood. By the time his legs finally moved to carry him closer to shore, his feet were so heavy it was as though he was wading through quicksand.

“No, no, no,” he pleaded quietly, watching as the waters edge never grew near no matter how far he ran.

Your voice cried out to him, surging him forward even faster as you drifted ever outwards, terror seeping deeper into his bones with every futile step he took.

He couldn’t reach you.

He couldn’t save you.

The realisation that you were gone caused his world to come crashing down around him as he fell to his knees. A roaring filled his ears, and he didn’t know whether it was the irascible water that held you captive or the blood racing from his pounding heart.

As he stayed there - watching the crashing waves for any sign of you, listening for a call of his name, unwilling to move for fear he’d miss you - the water suddenly crept up around him, as if to mock him.

The sky darkened as he let out an anguished cry, his voice blending in with the storm beginning to brew around him. Yet despite the deafening howls, he heard it clear as day: your voice, calling out to him.

“Dean.”

The world stilled around him once more, your voice ringing out in a whisper as gentle as the wind.

“Dean.”

He stood, frantically searching the horizon for you. He tried to call out, yet his voice still never came.

“Dean!” you called out, voice booming like thunder from above.

A small hand gripped his own, pulling him so forcefully he was yanked off his feet. He let out a startled cry, a spark of lightning igniting so brightly before him that he screwed his eyes shut.

“God dammit, Dean!”

Another force shook him, and when we reopened his eyes, he was met with the suspiciously stained ceiling of the motel room. He bolted upright, heart hammering against his chest as he looked around. He caught your worried gaze as he wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to steady his breathing as you leaned in closer.

“[Y/N?]” he gasped out, pushing himself further upright.

His hand reached out automatically, fingers tentatively brushing against your cheek as if to evaluate your solidity. When he was satisfied that you wouldn’t evaporate, he surged forward to wrap you in a desperate embrace; the icy grip of terror finally starting to melt.

“It was just a nightmare, De,” you soothed quietly, tracing a hand along his back. “Everything’s alright.”

“Yeah,” he said tightly, swallowing the lump forming in his throat as he let you go. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’m alright, get back to bed.”

“You’re okay?” you questioned, concern laced in both your face and tone of voice.

“I’m okay,” he affirmed with a nod, casting his gaze aside so you wouldn’t see the panic still swirling within him.

“Okay,” you said softly, placing a gentle kiss upon the crown of his head before standing from the edge of the pull-out.

Dean got up after you to grab a glass of water, his heart jumping in his chest as he remembered the sight of you being ripped away by the current.

“Just a nightmare,” he reminded himself under his breath. “Just a nightmare.”

Not having slept another wink after his nightmare, Dean was unsurprisingly the first one up the next morning. Taking it upon himself to get breakfast for the three of you, he found himself at the nearest diner waiting for his order.

Drumming his fingers impatiently on the sticky linoleum counter, a burning desire to call you began to build within him. Knowing you were likely still sleeping, he decided to busy himself with a stupid game you downloaded on his phone.

Yet the urge to reach out to you grew tenfold as he sat there, a sinking feeling that it might mean you were in danger starting to take hold of him. Just as his mind began to swirl with questions of what the hell was going on with him, he heard your voice calling his name.

His head snapped up, expecting to see you sliding onto the stool beside him, ready to give you hell for walking here in search of him all by yourself in a random town. He figured you must’ve known he was here, and it wouldn’t have been a far walk from the motel, but it was still stupid.

Though the words died on his tongue as he realized you weren’t there, and that familiar feeling of dread trickled through him after scanning the diner and not finding you anywhere.

Another voice called out, this time the waitress, announcing that his order was ready. He met her smiling face with nothing but confusion, her smile faltering for a moment.

“Everything alright?” she asked hesitantly.

“Huh?” he asked, before snapping out of his daze. “Oh, yeah. Just a little too early for me. Thanks-” he paused, squinting to read her name tag. “Thanks, Edna,” he charmed, flashing his signature grin as he gathered the order.

“Anytime, sugar,” she charmed, her smile perking back up as she sent him a wink.

With one last - albeit awkward - grin sent her way, Dean quickly left the diner; already feeling lighter for knowing he’d be back at the motel soon. His grin only grew when he glanced across the street and caught a glimpse of you staring back at him, proving that he wasn’t crazy and you really did come to meet him.

He took a step forward, intending to call out to you, when a truck drove by and blocked you from sight. The grin was wiped from his face and the coffee tray nearly slipped out of his hand when he noticed you had completely disappeared in its wake.

Fearing the worst once more, he scrambled into the car and quickly called you, firing Baby to life as the line rang.

“Hey,” you answered with a stifled yawn. “Please tell me you’re getting breakfast. And coffee.”

“Yeah, I-” he faltered in his response, having to let out a breath of relief as he realized you were safe and sound. “I’ll be back in a few, you and Sammy still there?”

“Where else would we be?” you asked with a giggle.

While the sound would normally bring a smile to his face, your words only caused a frown to appear. “You only waking up now?”

“Don’t judge me,” you teased. “It’s only… ten after seven, I barely slept in.”

“Just not used to being up before you,” he lied, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel.

“Miracles really do happen,” you joked with a laugh. “You sound weird, is everything okay?” you added, worry tinting your voice.

“Hm?” he wondered, not processing your question right away. “Oh, no- yeah, I-... just didn’t get much sleep.”

“Right,” you said, teetering on the edge of believing him or not.

“Really, I’m good,” he assured, sensing your apprehension. “I just gotta catch some z’s and I’ll be good as new.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few then,” you relented. “Drive safe,” you added as an afterthought before hanging up.

The line went dead as he stopped at a red light, his stomach churning as he stared at his reflection in the rearview.

“Just need some sleep,” he assured himself.

“Dude, would you quit it with the pacing?” Sam snapped, setting his book down on the table for sheer lack of concentration.

Dean stopped just long enough to stare daggers at his brother before marching down the library once more. “She’s been gone too long.”

“She’s been gone an hour,” Sam informed, hands running over his face in exasperation.

“Exactly,” Dean replied, pointing a finger at Sam in acknowledgment. “Something must’ve happened.”

“Dude, she’s at the grocery store. With Jack. What the hell could possibly happen?”

“I don’t know!” Dean exclaimed, arms flailing as he whirled to face Sam. “Something must’ve! She hasn’t answered my last text and it’s been-” he paused, pulling out his phone to brandish the screen. “Seven minutes!”

“Oh, my god,” Sam groaned, tossing his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I can’t deal with this anymore.”

“What are you talking about? Aren’t you worried?” Dean asked gruffly.

“No, Dean, I’m not worried! There’s no reason to be worried!” Sam proclaimed.

“No reason? She could be dead!” Dean barked, his face taking on an expression of disbelief.

Sam sighed as he leaned over the table, raising his eyebrows. “Okay, let me ask you this: why, exactly, do you think she’s dead?”

“Oh, come on, Sam!” Dean grumbled. “We don’t exactly live cookie cutter lives here, you know. One minute she’s returning the shopping cart, and the next she’s got a damn knife in her back!”

“Dean,” Sam soothed. “You know as well as I do that’s a load of crap.”

“No,” Dean argued, shaking his head. “We don’t know that. We don’t know anything, you know why?”

Before Sam could even respond, Dean waved his phone around before dropping it on the table. “Because she won’t answer her damn phone!”

“Okay, this is actually ridiculous,” Sam declared. “How can you seriously not see what’s been happening to you?”

“Knock it off, Sam,” Dean muttered, waving a hand dismissively as he began pacing again. “I’m fucking fine.”

“You’re fine,” Sam repeated incredulously. “You’re friggin’ cursed, Dean!”

“I’m not cursed!” shouted Dean. “Would you quit it with that crap?”

“Right, because nothing’s been going on with you lately, right?”

“Right!” Dean agreed with a huff.

“You haven’t been, say, I don’t know…. not sleeping? Feeling stir crazy? Getting paranoid?”

“Sam-”

“No, I’m serious, Dean! How can you not see this?”

“Because I’m fine!” Dean argued, stalling his movements to gather his phone from the table.

After a few moments of silence, Dean rolled his eyes and found himself once more walking the length of the library. “Okay, maybe I’ve been feeling a little weird lately, but I’ve just been tired - and you know what? I survived worse. So yeah, I’m fine!”

“Right,” Sam said sceptically. “And have you… noticed when it is that you feel… weird?”

“I don’t know!” Dean announced frustratedly.

“Dean,” Sam chastised.

“What?”

“You’ve been feeling like this all week, and it’s only getting worse. You’ve been like this since that witch cursed you - and don’t say she didn’t. Use your fucking head, Dean! You’re cursed!”

Dean’s jaw clenched as he tried to remain calm, taking a moment to formulate his response. “You’re insane,” he finally declared.

“I think you’re the insane one,” Sam contested. “You were cursed to yearn for something, Dean. Only in this case… it’s someone.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“C’mon, Dean!” Sam pleaded with a laugh. “The only time you get like this is when you’re more than ten feet away from [Y/N].”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean muttered dismissively.

“You’ve checked your phone another five times since you picked it up.”

“So?” Dean questioned, failing to resist the urge to check it once more. “I’m worried, not cursed.”

“You’re worried because you’re cursed!” Sam argued.

“I’m worried because I lo-” Dean quickly fell silent as the words died on his tongue, his brain firing into total overdrive as he laughed nervously. “I care, that’s why I’m worried.”

Sam stared at his brother in total disbelief, trying to find a way to make him realize what was going on- or, most likely, acknowledge what was going on.

Yet before the conversation could go any further, the bunker door screeched open and the sound of your laughter fleeted down to greet Dean, effectively turning his scowl into an affectionate grin.

“Hope you remembered my pie!” he called out, marching to meet you at the foot of the stairs without so much as a glance back in Sam’s direction.

“When have I ever forgotten?” you asked, feigning offence as you held out the bag which contained his pie.

“Well,” he started, taking the bag from you. “There was that time in Redford-”

“Hey!” you interrupted with a laugh. “I didn’t forget, they were out!”

“See, I still don’t believe you,” he teased, heading for the kitchen.

“Believe whatever you want, Dean,” you replied playfully.

“I’m still waiting for it, you know. You should get me two next time,” he joked, though he was partly serious.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice tentatively called out.

“Yeah?” Dean replied hotly, keeping his back to Sam as he went to grab a beer from the fridge.

“Who, uh… who the hell are you talking to?” he asked carefully, surveying the empty kitchen.

“Hilarious, Sam,” he said dryly, shutting the fridge. “I’m talking to-”

His mouth ran dry as he turned around, being met with just his brother, who was staring with concern from the doorway.

“[Y/N],” Dean finished weakly.

“Her and Jack aren’t back yet, Dean,” Sam said carefully, as though talking to a lost child.

“Yes, they are. They got back, she gave me my pie, we came in here,” Dean said fiercely, his confidence shattering when he went to gesture at the pie he set down moments earlier and found it to be gone.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Sam suggested, not knowing what to do.

“I’m fine!” Dean shouted, hovering over the counter. “I’m fine,” he repeated, moreso to himself than anything.

“Okay, look, how about I try calling [Y/N], okay?” Sam offered, hesitantly walking further into the kitchen. “See when they’ll be back.”

“They are back!” Dean barked, glaring at Sam. “She was just in here!”

Sam didn’t know what to say, the fear and concern for his brother crashing down on him.

“She was just in here,” Dean repeated shakily, meeting Sam’s gaze with confusion.

“Dean,” Sam started to say, before the familiar tone of your ringtone came from Dean’s phone, cutting through the air like a knife.

Dean pulled the phone from his pocket, clearing his throat before answering. “Yeah?”

“Dean, thank god,” you cheered, sighing in relief. “Listen, we came out to a flat tire and I don’t have a spare because I forgot to fucking replace it and there are too many people around for Jack to, you know, try fixing it,” you rambled anxiously. “Can you please come help?”

“You’re still at the store?” Dean clarified, looking up at Sam with frightened eyes.

“Yeah, we’re stuck in the parking lot,” you told him breezily.

“Okay,” he said, swallowing thickly. “Alright, I’ll be right there.”

“Thanks, De!” you said happily, ending the call.

Dean stood there for a few moments staring down at his unopened bottle of beer on the counter, trying to gather his thoughts, before finally lifting his gaze to Sam.

“I’ll, uh…. I’ll be back,” he told him, not waiting for a response before trudging out of the kitchen.

You found yourself yet again rushing down the hall to Dean’s room, his muffled yells waking you in the dead of night once more.

He uttered your name as you shut the door behind you, and though it took you by surprise the very first time it happened - nearly two weeks ago, now - it was something you’ve almost come to expect. It was killing you, watching him go through this every night and not being able to fix it. You would sit with him, find ways to gently rouse him from his terror filled slumber and comfort him when he woke, but it never seemed like enough; he deserved more.

At first you didn’t think there was too much going on, figuring his shift in behaviour was just due to his lack of sleep. You didn’t believe Sam when he talked to you about it; Dean may have been acting a little more strange than usual, but it didn’t raise any red flags.

It wasn’t until the morning following your conversation that you noticed it, cluing in and realising how different Dean had been; how long he’d been different. The excess text messages, the increase in phone calls, the insistence on you not going anywhere without him and his exuberant reactions to you getting back safe when you did go somewhere without him, his constant questioning on where you were or where you’ve just been. Something else was going on, and you could only think it really did come down to the witch you two encountered. So you and Sam called up Rowena, getting her take on the situation and figuring out what to do.

Her words now echoed through your head as you perched yourself on the edge of his bed: “Magic isn’t simple. Some curses are anchored by the witch, ending whenever they were to die. But others are more complex, rooted not in the witch but the object of the curse itself, not breaking until their purpose is carried out one way or another. Perhaps if you can figure out what it is Dean needs, you can break the curse yourselves. If this carries on for any longer… I’m worried it will kill him.”

While you ran your fingers through his hair, you decided right then and there that once he woke up, you wouldn’t leave without confronting him about it. You knew it would likely start a fight, and you felt a little guilty knowing you would all but interrogate him right after having another nightmare, but all that guilt flew right out the window the second Dean startled himself awake, the sight of his panic stricken face as he gasped for air nearly bringing you to tears; you’ve seen him like this too often as of late.

“It’s alright, Dean,” you soothed, reaching out to him. “I’m right here, everything’s fine.”

His gaze snapped to you, unable to hide the confusion and terror still coursing through him despite the relief he felt. “[Y/N]?”

“Yeah, De,” you cooed, running a hand across his shoulder blades. “We’re in your room, everyone’s okay.”

He let out a shuddering breath, hanging his head in his hands. “You’re okay,” he whispered softly. “You’re okay.”

You sat quietly with him for a few more minutes, patiently comforting him as best as you could while you thought of how to approach this conversation.

Clearing his throat, Dean was the first to speak again as he rose from the bed. “Sorry I woke you again.”

The dejection and shame laced in his voice tore your heart to bits, and you had to put up a good fight to keep your emotions in check. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“Yeah, I do,” he disagreed, trudging to his sink in the corner.

“Dean, please talk to me,” you pleaded, watching as he turned on the water.

You fell silent, waiting for him to deny you and brush you off again. You waited for him to say something, to do something, but all he did was stare at the running water.

“Dean?” you asked cautiously, slowly getting up from the bed yourself.

“I can’t save you,” he muttered quietly, his gaze on the faucet unyielding.

“What?” you asked curiously, not knowing what he meant.

“I can never save you,” he carried on. “You always just… slip away from me. Every time. It’s always the same.”

“What’s always the same?” you questioned, moving closer towards him.

“I try,” he muttered, seemingly oblivious to your presence. “I run, and I fight, and I try, but I can never reach you. I can never get to you.”

He seemed to snap out of his daze a little, moving to splash water over his face before turning off the tap. “You keep dying. I keep watching you die. I can’t watch you die again, [Y/N]. I can’t.”

“This is what your nightmares have been?” you wondered.

He fell silent again for a minute before meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Yeah.”

“It’s not real, Dean,” you told him softly.

“It’s real enough for me,” he muttered, turning to face you.

“And is this why you’ve been… acting differently towards me?” you asked hesitantly.

He averted his gaze, hanging his head as he considered your question. “I guess,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe, yeah. I don’t know.”

“Dean,” you scolded with a sigh, plopping back down on the bed. “Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

“Because everything’s fine!” he argued once again.

“I’m not stupid, Dean!” you challenged. “I know you. I can see something's eating you alive and it’s fucking killing me to witness it. So please, tell me what the hell is going on.”

“It’s just nightmares,” he lied, crossing his arms against his chest.

“It’s more than nightmares!” you cried. “You’re withering away into nothing, Dean! I mean let’s face it! You’re practically a zombie nowadays with how little sleep you get, you’ve been acting like a puppy with separation anxiety, and let’s not forget how completely erratic you’ve been.”

He glared at you, jaw clenching as he decided whether or not to entertain this conversation. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t slept lately,” he admitted starkly. “But like I keep saying, I’m fine.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying?” you sneered, glaring up at him.

He rolled his eyes, averting his gaze to anywhere else as he shook his head. “No, but I’m getting tired of having this conversation all the time.”

“Well too bad!” you yelled, abruptly standing from the bed. “Cause I’m tired of never having this conversation go anywhere! I’m tired of you brushing off the idea of you being cursed. I didn’t believe it at first either, but what the hell else could it be, Dean?”

“Oh, come on!” he barked, running a hand over his face. “I see Sam got his hooks into you.”

“Yeah, he did. And you need to listen to us.”

“No, I really don’t,” he scoffed, starting to head to the door.

“Even if it kills you?” you blurted out.

“It’s not gonna kill me!”

“God, look at you, Dean! It already is!” you argued, marching closer to him. “How would you feel if the situation were reversed?”

He let out a sigh, pausing with his hand on the doorknob before turning back to you. “What?”

“What if it were me going through all this instead of you? Would you let me get away with not even listening to you and Sam?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, staring at you in silence for so long you expected him to turn away again. Instead, he let out a deep breath as he took a seat, gesturing for you to carry on. “Five minutes.”

You almost went to argue before you thought better of it, knowing full well that if Dean never came around to the theory he would actually cut you off at the five minute mark. So, you did your best to recount the entire situation for him, reiterating what you, Sam, and Rowena had to say about it all in the hopes of getting through to him. By the time you finished, you knew it was well over five minutes, so you took Dean not interrupting you to be a good sign.

“Okay,” he finally said with a small nod. “Well, I listened. Can I go now?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, anger and fear bubbling inside of you as you exploded. “God, you are unbelievable!”

“Well what do you want me to say?” he grumbled. “I just don’t believe that’s what’s going on.”

“How can you not believe it?” you asked incredulously. “It’s obvious!”

“Look, I said I don’t believe it, alright?” Dean snapped. “Why are you so hellbent on making this into some big fight? Just accept it.”

“No!” you seethed. “I can’t just accept the fact that this could kill you. Especially not when there’s a way we could end this.”

“No,” he disagreed, shaking his head. “You can’t fix this, [Y/N/N]. You just can’t.”

“I can!” you cried. “Just tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“You know what,” you scolded.

“This is so fucking ridiculous.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“Why the hell do you care so much?” he questioned exasperatedly.

“Because I’m fucking terrified, Dean!” you exclaimed. “I’ve watched you grow more restless and anxious every day since the night we finished that case. I’ve seen the life drain from you more and more as sleep became nearly impossible for you. And I know it’s nearly impossible for you, because I have spent the last eleven nights sitting on that bed as you got terrorised by your own mind. I don’t care if you believe in this curse or not, Dean, because I do.”

Dean stood quietly, absorbing what you said as the severity of the situation began to dawn on him.

“I mean don’t you get it?” you asked sadly, cutting through the silence. “If something happens to you, if I lose you… that’s not something I can come back from.”

Dean fell silent once more, running a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, pacing around the room a little as he turned everything over in his head.

“I’m scared, Dean,” you reiterated softly. “Please, just let us try to fix this.”

“There’s some things I should tell you, then,” he admitted quietly after a moment of silence, taking a seat on the bed.

“About what’s been happening?” you asked hopefully.

He nodded, staring down at his hands folded in his lap. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” you said, moving his desk chair to take a seat. “I’m listening.”

He took a bracing breath, taking a few minutes to build the courage to speak. “Well, you know I’ve been having nightmares.”

“I do,” you agreed quietly.

“It’s always the same one,” he admitted, keeping his gaze cast downwards. “I could never figure out why. It didn't make sense to me why it was always the same thing. So I finally talked to Sam about it, and he had a pretty good theory. But, you know me. I didn’t want to believe it because it came back down to that witch and this stupid fucking curse.”

He let out a bitter laugh, pausing long enough for you to speak up. “What did he have to say about it?”

“I tried telling myself I was fine,” he continued, ignoring your question. “I was fine, at first. At first it was just not sleeping well… but then other things started happening.”

“Other things like what?” you wondered quietly.

“Like my blood feeling like it’s on fucking fire,” he muttered, wiping at his face. “And my skin feeling like it-… like it’s being peeled off my goddamn bones, and my face feeling like it’s melting… and how I get this- this bubble inside my chest that feels like it’s either gonna burst or suffocate me and how it all only happens-” he stopped in his rambling, taking a deep breath before chuckling in disbelief. “God, it only happens when you’re not around, [Y/N].”

“I-... what do you mean?” you asked breathlessly.

“Oh, come on, [Y/N],” he said bitterly. “I know you’ve noticed. I text you more, I’m almost always calling you. I just- I get this… this unwavering panic inside me when you’re not around. I keep-... I swear to god I see you everywhere when you’re gone. I catch sight of you across the street, I smell your stupid shampoo when I’m alone, I hear your voice when no one’s there. I had an entire conversation with you and you weren’t even there,” he carried on, shaking his head as he briskly wiped away an angry tear. “God, I’m going fucking crazy,” he added with a manic chuckle.

“You’re not crazy, Dean,” you said gently.

“That night,” he started, staring at the wall across from him. “She was trying to get back someone she lost… someone she loved.”

“Right,” you agreed.

“They used to drown them, people they accused of being witches,” he continued slowly.

“Yeah, it was pretty common. Sink, and you were innocent. Float, and you were guilty,” you pitched in. “But… what does that have to do with this?”

“I think they were innocent,” he said simply. “Whoever she lost… I think that’s how she lost them.”

“Why do you think that?” you asked curiously.

Dean cleared his throat, staring pensively at his hands once more. “The nightmares. It’s always… you always drown. I keep-... I can never save you.”

“I don’t get-” you started to say, before he cut you off.

“It’s how she lost who she loves, [Y/N],” he said curtly. “It makes sense for me to see the one I love go the same way.”

“I-... what?” you asked, too stunned to think of anything else to say.

“The dreams, the hallucinations, the- the way I’ve been feeling… I didn’t want to admit it, I still don’t, but I can’t… I mean I can only ignore it for so long, right?” he said, scoffing quietly. “Especially with you and Sam breathing down my neck about it.”

“Ignore what, Dean?” you asked breathlessly, your heart hammering in your chest.

“You,” he muttered. “They way I feel about you. The way I’ve always felt about you.”

You didn’t dare respond, his words ringing in your ears as he fell silent, each of you lost in your own thoughts for a while.

“I’ve always known that I love you, [Y/N/N],” he carried on, slowly meeting your gaze with glistening eyes. “But this… this curse, this whatever it is. God, it’s just made it all so much worse, and I knew. I knew it was you that my entire being was screaming out for but I couldn’t… I couldn’t admit it.”

“Why not?” you asked shakily, feeling your tears starting to build.

“How could I put that on you?” he asked, a few rogue tears slipping down his face. “You said it yourself, this thing is killing me. It’s gonna kill me, unless I get what I want, and given that that’s you, I’m calling it game over.”

“No, Dean, it’s not,” you denied with a sniffle, cutting through your own stray tears. “You should’ve told me.”

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, shrugging lightly as he looked back at his hands. “I told you now.”

“Dean,” you sighed, wiping your face as you stood from your seat. “Do you trust me?” you asked, walking towards him.

“Of course I do,” he said quickly, almost offended by the question.

“Okay, well, I’ll need you to trust me on this,” you replied, stopping just in front of where he sat.

“Okay,” he said with a huff.

“You gotta look at me, though,” you said, laughing softly.

Sighing dejectedly, he slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze, a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips as he looked at you.

You smiled softly at him, gently taking his face in your hands before wordlessly bringing your lips down to meet his. At first, neither of you really knew what was happening, and just when you thought to pull away you felt his lips moving against your own. His hands gripped your waist to hold you in place a moment longer before you each pulled away, staring silently at each other as you processed what just happened.

“What, uh… what was that for?” Dean finally asked.

“Well, it was either that or slapping some sense into you,” you said playfully. “Which I almost think you still deserve, because I can’t believe you honestly think I don’t love you back.”

“What?” he asked, his grip on your waist loosening in shock before tightening once more.

“You’ve had me since the day we met, Dean,” you told him softly, carding your fingers through his hair.

“You actually…” he trailed off quietly, trying to focus his thoughts. “You actually love me, of all people?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I do.”

“So I- well, I guess I could’ve saved a lot of trouble if I really did just tell you, huh?” he asked jokingly, laughing tightly.

“I’ll give you hell for it tomorrow,” you teased, half serious. “For now, how about we try getting you back to sleep?”

“Actually,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have a better idea involving this bed.”

You couldn’t help but snort a laugh, grinning fondly at him. “Oh, really?”

He grinned back, laughing with you before taking on a more sombre tone. “Do you trust me?”

“Always,” you said honestly.

“Good,” he replied with a grin, laughing heartily at the shriek you let out when he tossed you on the bed.

He stared down at you, a look you’ve never seen before painted on his face. “What?” you asked, giggling nervously.

“I love you,” he said earnestly, brushing a lock of hair away from your face.

“I love you, too,” you replied shyly, grinning softly.

He matched your grin, drinking you in a moment longer before crashing his lips upon yours once more.

When Dean woke the next morning, it didn’t take long for a grin to spread across his face as he quickly realized two things.

The first thing being that you, the love of his life, still remained tangled up in both his arms and the sheets, sleeping peacefully atop his chest.

The second being that, for the first time in a total of thirteen days, he was able to sleep without being haunted by his nightmares.

He felt you stir, and his grin widened as you nestled in closer, tightening your grip on him as you slept. He planted a kiss against your temple, pulling you in close as he blissfully settled in for another peaceful rest.

Maybe witches aren’t so bad.

tagging: @roseblue373

let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

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dumplingsjinson · 1 year

Text

List of “angry confession” prompts

“Since when did you ever care about me?!” “Since fucking forever, you idiotic dunce!”

“I can’t leave you alone for one second without you hurting yourself, can I?” “I mean, I’m fine so it’s okay—” “No, it’s not okay. Not when I feel like I’m going to go batshit fucking crazy, thinking you’ve hurt yourself.“

“Well, I’m sorry I fell in love with you, okay? But it happened and I can’t do shit about it.” “You… What?”

“You think I wanted this to happen? You think I, of all people, wanted to fall in love with you?”

“Trust me, I’m also trying to understand how in the shit this happened.”

“…This is why I knew I shouldn’t have gotten close to you.”

“I’m going to need you to stop for one second because I just find it so incredibly rude that you think I’m not head over heels in love with your stupid, oblivious ass. Are you a brick? Because you’re dense as fuck.”

“Tell me how I’m supposed to un-love you, then. Tell me. Spare me.”

“Yeah, well, if I could, I’d lose feelings for you. But it’s not that easy. It’s not that easy to just let go of someone you’ve held onto for so fucking long.”

“What part of ‘I want you, and only you’ do you not understand?”

#prompts #otp prompts #writing prompts #dialogue prompts #angst prompts #confession prompts

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factsilike · 27 days

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As hilarious as it is to read about WWX initially being unable to perceive his own attraction to Lwj as anything other than the typical reactions of a woman, I wish more people would realise that it was not due to obliviousness, but rather because of compulsory heterosexuality and him simply not being aware such things existed. The time period he grew up in speaks for itself, as well as his unsafe (because the Jiang household was anything but secure) environment.

It was funny when it was treated as a crack idea, but it's frustrating when it's treated as a canon trait of his, when it's not. This guy is highly intelligent, both emotionally and intellectually, and the conclusions he came to regarding his own feelings as well as Lwj's were based on the information he had at the time. I see people point it out most in that scene at the start of the novel where Lwj gets drunk and points to WWX saying 'Mine."

But I can't believe how obtuse those same people are when they don't realise that while it's obvious to the reader (because duh they're reading a danmei novel about romance between the two main leads, and they let themselves be blinded by their own perceptions) that he's referring to WWX, to him it's not. Because what was he supposed to think? When all Lwj had ever been towards him was tolerant at best, and outright hostile at worst, and with his previous cold behaviour, was WWX really supposed to think, oh he must mean for me to be his! Because that would have made no sense at that part of the story. It was only logical for him to try to find a rational explanation, and the only one WWX could come to was that LWJ was referring to his sword, because obviously WWX wasn't going to take him seriously even if he had confessed, he would have only thought that he was drunk rambling or something. He didn't have any reason to believe him at that point.

It's not until the rest of the events of his second life progress and give WWX many opportunities and chances to reflect on his own feelings and Lwj's (changed and more affectionate) behaviour, does he start to think, could it be that I like him? Because WWX is no idiot; he realises his own feelings for Lwj pretty early on. And he catches onto Lwj's love for him too! Which is what the whole getting drunk at the inn thing before Guanyin Temple was about; he was scared to find out whether or not Lwj's love for him was platonic or not. (Which is a valid thing literally every person who has ever had a crush can relate to; worrying over whether the person of your affections feels the same or not. And it's difficult enough navigating these things in heterosexual relationships, let alone same-sex ones)

I think the way MXTX wrote WWX's journey of discovering his sexuality as well as his budding love for Lwj is beautiful and deserves more praise and recognition, rather than just glossed over as tee hee 'obliviousness'.

#mxtx mdzs #wangxian #wei wuxian #lan wangji #the seeds of their love were planted in WWX's first life but really grow because of well everything that happened #and it's not until his second one that their given space and time to boom and grow beautifully #and I think that's wonderful #mdzs

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inupibaldspot · 8 months

Text

Sunglasses

Paring : Gojo Satoru x Reader

Note: My Blue Eyed King is indeed handsome without his glasses, it even makes you who is so oblivious realize your feelings for him.

“No Shoko.” Gojo’s face had as frown on his face as he stands near the alley way. Shoko really needed a smoke break but then the closest smoking zone was still a considerable distance away so here they were, in an alleyway Shoko smoking with Gojo as company. “I think I have been very obvious by now.”

“No shit, I think even Yaga knows by now”Shoko let’s out a chuckle. “Buts it’s also funny how oblivious y/n is.”

Shoko smiles as Gojo’s face contours in a frown further. She remembers when Gojo took a sip from your drink followed by a wink and despite Shoko giving a snide remark of ‘Wow~ An indirect kiss!’, you were pouting saying Gojo was after your drinks and scrambled away, hiding behind Geto.

“Even yesterday, we were in Harajuku.” Gojo huffs as Shoko takes a final drag from her cigarette and crushes the item beneath her feet. “I won a pop-ring from the pachinko and put it in her ring finger; RING FINGER!”

The duo starts walking back to where you and Geto were sitting at, Gojo still yapping away recalling the recent incident. “You know what y/n did? That idiot pulled it from their finger, bit the candy from the handle, threw the ring handle away and said it was inconvenient to eat candy that way.”

“Well, Y/N doesn’t like having things around their fingers and wrist.” Shoko smiles as Gojo huffs in frustration. “Have you maybe tried confessing?”

Gojo looks as her as if she had grown two heads. “Why do you think I was ignoring them for 2 days last month?”

“Pfft… You sulked only for two days?”

“Yeah, they called me over to their room to play Mario kart.”

Shoko cackled thinking how Gojo really can’t ever be genuinely upset at you,ever but smiles as she sees Geto and you not too far away. You were standing behind Geto and your hands were combing through his hair, Geto sitting comfortably with his eyes closed,undoubtedly a bit drowsy. “Your love of your life is being taken away though.”

Gojo follows his friend’s line of sight and sees what’s was going on making him screech. “Geh!”

You were combing your hands through Geto’s hair. Geto who always had his bun high and tight in the morning would always start to slouch and become slightly messy towards the evening, so you being a good friend offered to help.

Geto denied it at first. Gojo would blow a fuse if he sees his crush so close to him. But on second thought, Gojo did eat the yogurt he had saved up so it was a good chance for a payback so he agrees.

“Suguru!” Gojo slides infront of him in great speed, a trail of dust behind him. “That’s breaking bro code!”

To which Geto just sticks his tongue out with a smug look on his face. You tilt your head in confusion. What’s Satoru going on about? You think as your hands still. “I’m fixing his hair,Satoru.”

“Let me help you then.” Gojo scoots your away gently, as he then takes over making Geto’s hair as his hands swiftly takes over. “Done!”

Geto stills frozen for a second as he sat with his hair in a twin tail, his bangs covering one side of his face as usual with a proud looking Gojo beside him. He looks stupid. This make you and Shoko burst out laughing.

A nerve pops from Geto’s forehead and he swiftly swings his fist.

*Smash!*

“Ah!”

That’s how you guys ended up in a glasses shop, after Geto swings his fist on Gojo his fist collided with his face which in turn breaks the Gojo’s sunglasses.

“How about this?” You stand on the ball of your feet as your outstretched your hand to put on a sunglass on Gojo.

Gojo stops breathing for a second on how close you were to him, the tip of his ears felt hot. You put him a heart shaped pink glass, stupid he know but when sees you slump back and giggle, he thinks it’s worth it.

Geto and Shoko looks away from the pair. We’ll give you two space. Shoko has whispered to him and they walk around the store keeping a distance.

“Yeah yeah.” Gojo sings and you still continue laughing; he brings his hands to the frame of the glasses and removes it. “I know I look handsome but let’s get serious.”

You nod at him, your face still had a dust of red due to laughing. “Fine I’ll pick out a good one.”

“Ah! Look at that guy~”

“The white hair one…He is so tall!”

“Kyaa~ He looks so dreamy.”

Gojo puffs his chest in pride. This wasn’t old news at all as he always knew he was a good looking guy. He may have actually missed this kind of attention since no one at Jujutsu High would react like that.

“Try this one.” Your stiff voice breaks him from his thoughts as you once again put him a glasses; another stupid one where the frame was shaped like a flower.

“Listen.” Gojo says. “Let’s pick a proper one.”

“Why?” His heart skips a beat as your lips turn into a pout, your eyes look at him as if you were a puppy. “You like the girls fawning over you?”

“Wha-“

Before Gojo could respond, you held the cuff of his shirt as you pull him towards Shoko and Geto.

“Ehh~ He had a girlfriend.”

“That’s boring.”

Gojo gulps loudly as he racks through his brain. No way? But then you- Damn I really don’t want to get too confident. He thinks as Gojo then opens his mouth.

“Hey? Don’t tell me you’re jealous?” He tries to keep his tone in his usual teasing one but there was a slight tremble at the end.

“I-“ You swiftly turn around, your eyes was nervously wandering as you try to look into his eyes, face increasingly red ; Gojo wished he could kiss you then and there. “I just- I guess I am.”

Gojo stills as he then breaks into a series of laughter. What the hell, all these time of him pinning on you, trying to make you realize the Gojo Satoru loves you and all it took was some random group of girls gushing over him?

“Fuck.” Gojo covers his huge grin on his face with his hands, and maybe the blush aswell as he then warps his hand around your waist and twirls you around . “You’re so fucking cute.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo imagines #gojo imagine #gojo satoru imagine #gojo x you #gojo fluff #gojo saturo

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sxfwap · 2 months

Text

Romancing the Princess of Hearts || Chapter 2: A Truth Of A Kind

<— Chapter 1 Chapter 3 —>

Pairing: Bridget (Descendants) X Reader

Summary: Ever since you’ve been transferred to The Merlin Academy you’ve had a crush on the Princess of Wonderland herself, who you quickly became best friends with.

Of course, she doesn’t know and you weren’t brave enough to tell her either… but how much time could you keep such feelings to yourself?

Word count: 2446

Warnings: None again but fluff!!!

After one hour of Professor Merlin grading everyone’s job, (to which you and Bridget got an ‘A’) you were finally set free. Not before tidying up your desk, of course.

When both you and Bridget were finished, a sudden sound from the back of the class caught your ears. You took the opportunity to look behind you and saw exactly what you were hoping for: Ella giggling at something Charming was saying just a few feet away, close to the classroom’s door.

“Hey, B.” You nudged her softly, a teasing smile on your face as Bridget’s curious eyes settled on you before following the direction of what caught your attention. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” You whispered.

“No. Way.” Bridget gasped, a hand coming up to her mouth to shield her snicker, the sound blessing your ears.

You continued watching (spying) on for a few more seconds, before deciding to break up the party. You grabbed Bridget’s hand, totally missing out on how her cheeks darkened at the unexpected contact, but she nonetheless, took advantage of it and intertwined your hand with hers and so, you headed out to your friend.

“I’ll see you later then,” you barely heard Charming saying, just as he was leaving. He saw you both however and waved his hand is a friendly manner, to which you waved back.

Ella looked behind herself, to see both her best friends that she kind of expected would still be lingering in the classroom. “Well, well… look who finally decided to show up to class.” She said with a small teasing smile, purposefully starting the conversation to try and not make it about what she was thinking you might turn it into.

Although, upon seeing both of your smiles, she realized she never stood a chance.

“And look who finally decided to start flirting back to the prince!” You exclaimed, holding out your other hand up for Bridget to high five, to which she did with a grin.

“You must tell us what was making you so giddy!” The pink haired followed you up, bitting her bottom lip to try and hide her beaming smile, failing to do so. She was happy after all that her very first friend was finally opening up to no one other than a prince. And a charming one. “Oh, I’m so happy for you, El! It was about time, really.”

“Please let us be your bridesmaids at the wedding.” You said in mocked excitement.

“Are you guys done?” Ella questioned, trying her best to look irritated but the slight red tint in her cheeks gave her away.

She started walking away, out of the classroom, knowing you both were going to follow. You briefly looked at Bridget with a teasing smirk, she returning one with a scrunch of her nose (which totally did not made your insides falter for a second) and follow, you did.

“So… do you want to talk about it?” Bridget asked with a hopeful smile, positioning herself at Ella’s right side, while you went to her left.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Ella said, seemingly disinterested. She expected a quick retort coming from both her friends, but instead she was met with silence. She glanced to both her sides and caught you and Bridget looking at her with knowing smiles. She sighed. “Perhaps he… might have asked me to go to… Castlecoming with him.”

Ella’s mind was rushing through all the different scenarios of how her best friends’ reaction could be upon hearing such news, like hearing both your loudest screams and never ending teasing, but she was not prepared however, when both you and Bridget decided to engulf her in the biggest hug possible, accompanied with spins and mini jumps of happiness.

You were certain your little act was attracting attention, but you didn’t care. One of your best friends was going to go the most important event in the school with a prince!

Ella however, did care. “Okay, okay!” She giggled, finally managing to get you to somewhat calm down.

“Oh, I’m so happy for you, Ella!” Bridget exclaimed with the biggest smile on her face, hugging her best friend once more– though a shorter hug this time.

“I still can’t believe you even told us!” You said, giving your friend a genuine smile. You were happy for her, especially because of her original desire to not assist the event in the first place. “So, all it took for you to want to go is for your dearest prince to finally, properly ask?”

Ella wasted no time. “Perhaps you could properly ask to your dearest princess, too!” Ella retorted, feigning innocence.

“Princess?” Bridget questioned a bit dumbfounded.

You completely played it off though (or in Ella’s eyes tried) by laughing at her comment. “Oh, El, you’re so funny, truly the funniest person I know.”

On the inside however, you wanted to drown in the Enchanted Lake and might as well bring Ella too. Not being dramatic at all.

“That’s why we’re friends, Y/n!” She exclaimed, continuing with her innocent act. “Oh that reminds me, weren’t you going to bake some special cupcakes today, B?” Ella looked at her friend with a knowing look.

The pink haired princess blushed slightly at her implications, truly catching her off guard, but still smiled. You noticed though that it wasn’t as genuine. “Y–You’re right! I need to go!” She stammered, before doing a curtsy and running down the Merlin Academy halls.

You looked at Bridget’s departing figure with slight concern, you’ll ask if she’s okay later on.

After she was out of your sight, however, you turned to your remaining friend, annoyed. “You completely outed me, Ella!” You said in exasperation.

Ella was the only person who was aware of your crush on the Princess of Wonderland, at least the only one you told about it. Her knowing was both a blessing, since you could talk to someone about it and a curse, because sometimes she’d say or do something with the hopes of making you both realize how you truly felt about each other. Truly, she didn’t have any ill intentions and in her defense, you especially, liked to tease her with her unofficial crush.

Ella grabbed your hands and gave them a squeeze. “If anything I’m helping you, Y/n.” Ella smiled an apologetic smile. “You see, as someone once told me, ‘only staring will get you nowhere’.” She uttered the words you once told her.

“That was different. It was so obvious that you and Charming liked each other, everyone in the school knew!” You defended yourself. “Now she’s going to think I want to go to Castlecoming with someone else.” You sighed and looked down at your joined hands.

Ella squeezed them once more, making you look up at her to find a knowing look plastered on her features. “And what makes you think it’s not obvious that you and Bridget like one another?” You were about to protest, saying something along the lines that Bridget did not like you like that, but your blue haired friend beat you to it. “Besides, this could be a good opportunity to ask her. You saw how she reacted, doesn’t that give you any ideas?” She questioned.

“You have to be mad if you think that that means she likes me back.” You chortled. “Wait– did you unintentionally confess to me that you like Prince Charming?”

“I mean… he is nice.”

“And gorgeous.” You added with a small teasing smirk. You both laughed it off as you continued walking. “You know, both you and him appeared in my dream this morning– well you mentioned him, but still.”

“So that’s why you didn’t wake up? Must have been a hell of a dream if it kept you on bed for so long.” She teased.

“Pfft, It wasn’t that long! Also, Bridget woke me up– and by the way, were you with her?”

“What makes you ask?”

“Somehow she opened my door. The thing is, I can’t see her invading someone’s privacy in that way, she’s a goody-two-shoes basically. And, she didn’t want to tell me how she did it.”

“Well…”

─── ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ───

The Princess of Wonderland and her friend Ella were walking down the hallway of the Merlin Academy, said princess smiling in anticipation as they reached the numbered door belonging to their friend’s bedroom.

She knocked. “Y/n! We’re here!” She said, already picturing your sleepy but adorable face you oh so wore in the mornings.

She waited for a few seconds, but found herself surprised when no sound came from the insides of the room. Absolutely nothing.

She knocked once more. “Y/n! It’s me and El! Are you awake?” She questioned once more, only to be left to silence again.

Bridget decided to knock one last time. “Y/n? Are you alright?” She asked a little louder.

This time, Ella banged on the door, for the sake of the rest of the students not as loudly as she would have wanted, seeing as Bridget’s soft knocks were not helping. “Y/n!” She said, looking with caution at the still unopened door.

Ella stopped and thought for a moment. It was a strange occurrence, to say the least. After all, you never made them wait this long. And the fact that not even a muffled ‘I’m coming’ or anything regarding the fact that you were there, safe and sane, was enough to make the blue haired concerned. Were you even in the room?

“Ella, do you think something happened to her?!” Bridget exclaimed, looking at her friend with worried eyes. “She never takes this much time, something must have happened!” She gasped, covering her mouth with her hands.

“B, for all we know she could be perfectly fine, sleeping.” She replied, trying to calm her nervous friend. Bridget was right though.

“I’m going to get a professor.”

But before the pink haired princess could get away, Ella grabbed her wrist to keep her in place. Bridget looked at her with a surprised look.

“We’re going to waste time.” Ella said and immediately got an idea and set herself to work, kneeling in front of the door. “I’ll open it.”

“What? B–But we’d be intruding, Ella! I don’t want to break a basic school policy.” She bit her lip in a worrisome manner.

“Any professor would be intruding if they do it too.” Ella said, rummaging through her dress pockets.

“But they are allowed to! Especially in these kind of situations!”

“Well what is more important then, knowing that Y/n is fine or just a school rule?” She retorted, finally having found what she had been looking for. A hairpin.

“Y/n, of course! But–“

“I’ll be the one doing it, not you. So if anyone asks, you just don’t say anything, alright?”

Bridget exhaled, defeated. “Alright. Thank you, El.”

“No worries.” She was quick to put the hairpin in the key way and with practiced movements managed to open it with a ‘click’. “She would have done the same, anyways.” She added, standing up.

And with that Bridget couldn’t agree more. She was truly happy and felt undeserving of having not only one but two amazing best friends. Even if she had hopes that a certain one would become more than just friends.

The thought quickly made her blush and she shook her head to compose herself.

“How did you do that?” Bridget asked in slight amazement.

“How do you think I manage to live with my step-mother and sisters?” Ella replied with a cheeky smile, to which Bridget hummed in a share sentiment.

They looked at each other briefly before Ella opened the door slowly, in opposition to Bridget’s complaints, just in case someone else was in there.

They were relieved to find however, just you in your bed.

Bridget was quick to leave her friend’s side to go to yours, placing two of her fingers to the side of your exposed neck. “She’s alive!” She whispered, a smile plastering her soft features. “Oh, I’m so glad.” She breathed out, looking over your relaxed face with a tender look.

Ella looked at her friends with a knowing look from a distance. She wondered what would be the look on your face if you knew that Bridget was looming very closely in front of you. Perhaps your cheeks would match hers.

“You can go El, we’ll catch up in a minute.” Bridget said in a low voice, nodding her head with a grin at Ella’s unsure expression.

“Alright, don’t take too long.” She replied back in the same tone. “If sleeping beauty doesn’t wake up, perhaps a kiss could do the trick.” She couldn’t help but tease her friend, also knowing of her crush on you.

Bridget looked at her with a reddish face, her mouth agape as she tried to think of a comeback, yet came with none. She was truly rendered speechless.

Ella took the opportunity to make leave, leaving both her friends alone. She knew you were in good hands.

─── ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ───

Ella tried not to laugh at your disbelieved face, although she did omit a few things that might have happened, shortening her side of the story, but was content with herself that you seemed to have your mind set on one thing and one thing only.

“Wow.”

Because certainly you could believe that Ella was the one to open your room’s door but for Bridget to somewhat agree to it? Truly, you didn’t know she had it in her.

“Exactly.”

“Honestly, I can’t believe it.”

“I guess she really wanted to make sure you were okay, how important must you be to her.” She joked light-heartedly.

Though if you asked her, she wouldn’t be so sure if she was joking herself. She knew after all of Bridget’ soft spot for you that seemed to be getting softer every passing day.

“Ha-ha-ha.” You looked at her with your most serious face, to which in response, she slapped your shoulder lightly with a chuckle.

“Now that you know the truth, I will ask you to not say anything to her on your way to her.”

“My way to her?”

“Duh, she might need help with her cupcakes.”

“And you’re not coming with me because…?”

“Well, I… need to look for a dress.”

“Oh, but of course! Don’t let me keep you waiting… Ella Charming.” You said playfully, to which she grabbed your shoulders to turn you around (and also as a way to keep her darkened cheeks hidden) and push you with not much strength, making you laugh at her antics.

“You better not keep your date waiting.”

Wait, date?

A/N: First of all I want to thank you all for the love the first part received 🥹🥹 I’m so grateful!!!

As of right now I’m super close to finishing writing chapter 3 SOOO stay tuned!!

English is not my first language so feel free to correct any mistake or give me a piece of advice or criticism on my writing style!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READINGGGG 🩷🩷🩷

#bridget descendants #bridget x reader #descendants #descendants the rise of red #idiots in love #ella descendants #charming descendants #fluff and humor #slice of life #pining #mutual pining #fanfic #attempt at humor #oblivious #love confessions #disney #descendants movies #wlw #english is not my first language

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lumiambrose · 1 month

Note

LUMI LUMI LUMI LUMI LUUUUUMI

Would you please be so kind as to luminate my life with a one bed trope fic with isagi, my queen? 🧎🏻‍♀️

MAKE IT AS NSFW AS YOU WANT 😈

I can take him. (not in a fight though ;))

MIRA MIRA MIRA MIRA MIIIIIRAAAAA

your wish is my command ;)

pro!isagi x f!reader, one bed trope, reader is isagi’s first relationship, isagi and reader are 21+, nsfw under the cut, slight breeding kink if you squint hard enough

divider credits to @rookthornesartistry & thank you @strawchocoberry for proof-reading <3

isagi's nerves were shot. between the important match he had tomorrow and the idiotic hotel staff not being able to do their jobs, he was at a loss for words.

the two of you arrived at the hotel not long ago, baggage in tow, with reservations for the most exquisite five-star hotel isagi could book. this is supposed to be the perfect little trip for the two of you but of course, something had to go wrong.

that something being that despite having booked a room with two beds, you and isagi find yourselves in a deluxe suite, filled with luxurious amenities and only one bed.

yes, isagi is your boyfriend and yes, he loves you, but you two have only been dating for three months. he thinks it's far too early to be making such bold moves, especially when he knows he struggles to control himself around you.

you on the other hand, oblivious to his current predicament, are having the time of your life. all the fancy little souvenirs from the hotel and expensive champagne leave you in absolute awe. you wonder how the hell you would ever make it up to your loving boyfriend for showering you in such luxury.

you currently find yourself sprawled on the king-sized bed that comes with your suite, engulfing your figure in the silk sheets and plush pillows as you take in the fresh smell of clean bedsheets.

as he glances at you, comfortable on the bed with that little smile that always makes his heart skip, he almost feels a sense of guilt. feeling bad for putting you in such an awkward situation, he decides he should somehow make it up to you.

"baby, um… i didn’t mean for the room to be like this…" he says, scratching the back of his head, the tips of his ears burning.

staring at him in confusion, you tilt your head to the side, waiting for an explanation.

“well… i initially reserved two beds for us. i didn’t want to force you into anything you felt uncomfortable with.” he confesses, looking at the ground, the window– anything but you.

realisation hits and you finally understand what isagi was referring to. you look up at him, letting out a loud giggle with a playful glint in your eyes. "i don’t see a problem."

he gulps, his mind a jumble of thoughts. sure, you are his girlfriend, but sleeping next to you? it’s a whole new level of intimacy. "n-no, of course not. i mean, it's fine, right? we're adults."

you bite your lip to keep from laughing more at how flustered he was. "definitely adults," you tease, patting the empty space beside you.

isagi shuffles over, sitting on the edge of the bed like it might bite him. "i just... don't want to make you uncomfortable," he mumbles, his eyes darting everywhere but at you.

"yoichi," you call softly, reaching out to touch his hand, "i'm not uncomfortable, silly. why else would i come with you on this trip?."

easing isagi’s mind, the conversation slowly drifts away as the two of you bask in each other's presence. after ordering dinner, unpacking and showering you both prepare to call it a night.

isagi lies beside you in bed. the dim glow of the bedside lamp casting soft shadows across the room. he can feel the warmth of your body next to his, your arm lightly brushing against his as you both settle under the covers. his heart is racing faster than it ever has before, with every tiny touch or brush against you setting his entire body ablaze.

“you know, you’re so cute when you’re nervous,” you tease lightly, turning on your side to face him. your playful tone easing the tension in the air, and he feels a small smile tug at his lips.

“i’m not nervous,” he lies, his voice a little too high-pitched to be convincing. he can feel heat creeping up his neck, and the way your eyes sparkle with amusement isn’t helping his case.

reaching out to lightly trace your finger down his muscular arm you giggle. “really? because you’re blushing, yoichi.” your touch sends a shiver down his spine and he swallows hard. he’s really trying his best to focus on anything but how close you are and how his blood is rushing to everywhere it shouldn't be.

his nervousness finally giving way to something else, he turns to face you and meet your gaze. “it’s just… this is different. i’ve never really… you know, shared a bed with someone like this before.”

“well, there’s a first time for everything,” you murmur, your voice dropping to a more sultry tone. “besides, it’s just sleeping, right? or…” you let the question hang in the air, your eyes locking onto his.

the implication makes his breath hitch and heart thud. there’s something in your eyes, something that makes his pulse quicken and his resolve falter. the playfulness in your gaze has shifted to something deeper, something that made his previous nerves fade into the background.

he swallows, feeling a surge of confidence he didn’t know he had in him. “or… we could make the most of this.” his voice low and steady as he leans in closer to you, whispering such a lewd line, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

your breath catches as his lips hover just above yours, his eyes flicking down to your mouth before meeting your gaze again. “yoichi…” you whisper, the anticipation thick in the air between you.

and that’s all it took. no further encouragement needed as isagi closes the distance, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that is soft at first, almost hesitant, but quickly deepens as the tension that has been building all night finally snaps. his hand slides down to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss grows more urgent, more desperate.

when you finally break apart, both of you are breathless, your foreheads resting against each other's as you try to catch your breath. isagi’s hand lingers on your hip, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin.

"maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all," he murmurs, a playful smile on his lips.

you grin while your fingers brush through his hair. “told you so,” you whisper back, before pulling him in for another kiss, one that told him that this night was far from over.

his breath quickens at the feeling of your body pressed up against his, pulling you onto his lap so that you are lying on top of him. he can feel the heat radiating between you leaving his usually overthinking mind now blissfully blank.

pulling you closer, you’re now the only thing on his mind. the need to feel you, to be with you, overtaking any previous hesitations he held onto.

your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging slightly, as he groans into the kiss, his hips pressing against yours. "shit, you... don’t want you seeing me like this," he mumbles against your lips, his thoughts a mix of shame and desire.

"seeing what?" you breath, your hands sliding under his shirt, feeling the taut muscles of his back.

"how much i... want you," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper, his face buried in the crook of your neck, trying to hide the blush that spread across his cheeks.

you smile, guiding his hand to your thigh, letting him feel the warmth of your skin, the softness that made his heart race. "i think it's pretty clear how much you want me, yoichi," you tease, hinting towards the growing pain in his sweatpants.

he groaned again, a mix of frustration and yearning. "you're my girlfriend... this should be normal, right? but it feels... different. more intense."

"because it is," you murmur, shifting so you were straddling him, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms. "i feel the same way."

he looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire, his hands gripping your hips, grounding himself in your presence. "i, just... let me make you feel good. please, baby?," he’s basically begging, his voice needy for your presence.

you didn’t need to confirm your lust for him yet you still let out the slightest whisper. "i’m yours," as you lean down to kiss him again, giving him all the confirmation he needs, your bodies pressing closer, the heat between you becoming almost unbearable.

isagi's hands roam your back, slipping under your shirt, exploring every inch of your skin, as if trying to memorise the way you felt. "i don't... i don't want to hold back anymore," he confesses, his voice strained with the effort of controlling himself.

"then don't," you encourage, your lips brushing against his ear, your breath hot and teasing.

that was all the permission he needed. with a low growl, isagi flips you onto your back, his lips crashing against yours with a fervour that surprised even him. his hands are everywhere, pulling at your clothes, desperate to feel more of you, to lose himself in the sensation of your skin against his.

you moan into his mouth, your hands equally frantic, pulling at his shirt, his pants, anything that keet you from feeling all of him. "yoichi," you gasp, arching into his touch, needing more, needing everything he has to give.

"is this... is this okay?" he asks, his voice laced with both uncertainty and desire, his hands pausing before they reached your tits to look at you, making sure that you’re ok with his movements.

"yes," you breath, your hands cupping his face, pulling him down for another kiss, your body arching against his seeking friction, the connection that was so close, yet still just out of reach.

isagi lets out a shaky breath, his control slipping as he loses himself in the feeling of you beneath him. cupping and playing with your plush tits, he made you elicit soft moans. the way you respond to his touch, everything driving him to the edge of reason. he couldn't think anymore, nor did he particularly want to, only wanted to feel you and pleasure you, to finally give in to the desire that had been building for so long.

not wanting to waste anymore time, isagi relieves you of your pyjamas as you help undress him. once you were both in nothing but you underwear, isagi positions you against the headboard, slotting himself in between your open legs, leaving your bare body open for his display.

one hand grasps onto your thigh while the other hand makes its way to your chest. he cups your, now bare, chest, letting his thumb tease your nipple in a circular motion. relishing in your sweet noises and cute expressions, he leans closer to take a mouthful of your tit. his mouth is hot and damp against the flesh, sucking and nibbling on it, making the most lewd sounds for your ears only.

moving the hand that was groping your thigh up to your other tit, he plays with both of them using his fingers and tongue with the sole purpose of pleasing you, drawing out needy whines.

while deeply enjoying the pleasure brought to you by your sweet boyfriend, you want-, no, need more. a soft moan escapes your lips and you take the moment to babble incoherent words of “needing more”.

obliging to your wishes, he kisses his way up to your collarbone and neck. he leans in to nibble on your tender flesh, sucking and kissing the surface of your skin, leaving purple marks in his remains.

“tell me what you want.” he murmurs into your ear, voice barely above a whisper.

“you yoichi, want you…” you barely manage out as you paled his aching cock through his boxers.

something inside of him snaps in that moment as he pulls you down to lie underneath him. letting his body tower over yours.

at this point isagi is fueled purely by desperate, awestruck hunger as removes his boxers and aligns his cock with your folds. “can i?” his voice needy as he barely manages to hiss the words out.

you couldn’t take it anymore as you give him an almost too eager nod, trying to grind yourself into him. and when he finally, finally enters you, he reaches for your lips to muffle the loud screams that leave your mouth. as he finally bottoms out inside you, you’re both left whining, panting messes, breathing into each other's mouths.

your tight pussy greedily sucks him in as you take him inch for inch. adjusting to the size was not easy, but something you had to manage to make this last. all the pent up pleasure that’s been building up can finally have its release.

he starts moving inside of you, albeit slowly, every move and sensation is sending shivers down your spine and heat to your core. isagi thrusts deeper into you, bodies slapping together, the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoes in your suite. your eyes roll back into your head, the pleasure overwhelming as you cling to isagi for dear life, nails digging into his back leaving marks that certainly won’t be gone by morning.

isagi’s pace begins to pick up, the rhythmic slaps of bodies getting louder. his breath coming in pants he lets out a soft whisper, “fuck-, feel good princess?” wanting your reassurance. as cockdrunk as you are, you manage to let out a quick nod babbling praises into the air between you two. “mhm, isagi! feels good- you feel too good. ahh~ too much!”

isagi only quickens his pace from your words, feeling himself twitch inside of you, his thrusts only become more erratic, the animalistic need to fill you up taking over. as your walls clench around isagi, he feels his orgasm building, he knows he won't last much longer with you like this underneath him.

each thrust sends a shock wave of pleasure through you, your body rocking to meet his. the scent of sex fills the room, the air thick with the heady fragrance. isagi's breaths come ragged, his need growing unbearable. he can't resist the urge to whisper into your ear, "you're so tight, so perfect for me."

isagi leans down, kissing your neck, his tongue trailing down your skin. the sensation sends a jolt through your body, “princess- where should i-” you interrupted him before he was even able to finish his sentence. “inside yoichi, please.” his hips buck as his hot cum fills you, spilling out from between your legs.

but it’s not over yet, no. you haven’t came yet, despite the slight embarrassment he doesn’t let that stop him. hands gliding down to your abdomen where he puts his thumb on your clit, only adding to the overwhelming pleasure.

you cling onto isagi for dear life as the wave of your own orgasm crashes over you, your body convulsing. the hotel room now filled with nothing but the scent of sex, the air thick with the aftermath of your passion. catching your breaths, isagi collapses next to you, your bodies slick with sweat. despite you a panting mess and catching your breath, you look over to see your boyfriend who looks nothing short of perfect, not even looking one bit tired. a smile spreads on your face as you lightheartedly joke between deep breaths, “you don’t look tired at all, almost like you could go for another round.”

he turns over to look at you, locking eyes with you before smirking. “actually princess, that doesn’t sound like such a bad idea…”

it’s safe to say that despite the lack of sleep, isagi has never played better, leading his team to an easy victory and giving him a new pre-game ritual

don’t worry, sleep is for the weak ;)

an:

oh my god. i finally get to upload this and i'm so happy! i spent so long writing this and sacrificed way to many braincells learning how to write a full fucking fic (2.6k words wtf).

+ posting this got delayed for so long cause i wanted mira to be online when she received her req, hope you enjoyed it bbg <3

bonus:

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bluelock x reader #blue lock smut #yoichi isagi x reader #isagi x reader #isagi smut #isagi yoichi x reader smut #isagi x reader smut #isagi yoichi #isagi yoichi x reader #bllk x you smut #bllk x you #bllk smut #✰ ─ the devils tales

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buddierecs · 2 months

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accidental kissing buddie fics

this list has different rated fics, so please look at the rating make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

went a little like this by: thedesertpenguin "buck kisses eddie on a random morning. two problems with this: 1) they are not together 2) they don't realize they've kissed" word count: 3.2k rating: teen and up important tags: fluff, humor, mild angst, soft!buddie natural instinct by: inkinmyheartandonthepage "buck drives eddie and chris to the airport and, on instinct, he kisses eddie goodbye." word count: 7.9k rating: general audience important tags: car accidents, hurt!evan buckley, pre-relationship, idiots in love, soft!buddie, team as family, fluff, angst accidents happen (but i will love you on purpose) by: withmeornotatall "buck kisses eddie, goes grocery shopping with christopher, then realises he's in love with eddie, in that order" word count: 4.4k rating: general audience important tags: fluff, crack, love confessions, feelings realisation angel baby by: maxisbi "eddie accidentally calls buck "babe" and then they're cute for 2400 words straight." word count: 2.4k rating: general audience important tags: friends to lovers, getting together, pet names, sharing a bed crossed wires, words and... wets by: znks "sometimes, after a short pitstop through some yearning, your bff accidentally kissing you can lead to wonderful things" word count: 7.4k rating: explicit miscommunication, angst, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, gettign together, love confessions, shower sex, comeplay, thigh fucking of accidents and inevitabilities by: tawaifeddiediaz "the one where they accidentally kiss, and the cards fall right into place." word count: 3.5k rating: teen and up important tags: fluff, pre-relationship, soft!eddie diaz, getting together basic instinct by: delilah2040 "the one where buck and eddie are literally the last to know that they're dating." word count: 2.8k rating: general audience important tags: accidental relationship, idiots in love, oblivious!buddie, fluff on autopilot by: indigobaz "after a distracted eddie kisses buck, chris has a lot of questions. too bad eddie is at work and buck is the only adult available for questioning." word count: 3.5k rating: general audience important tags: friends to lovers, fluff, getting together, christopher diaz has two dads nobody gets me (like you) by: cephalopodx "eddie kisses buck goodbye. they aren't together yet." word count: 2.2k rating: general rating important tags: getting together, fluff, cuddling strike up the band and make fireflies dance by: bibbawrites "5 times buck and eddie kissed as best friends and 1 time they kissed as more" word count: 3.5k rating: not rated important tags: 5+1 things, eddie diaz pov, fake dating and you kisses me in a way that's gonna screw me up forever by: asteriasera "a few months after breaking up with natalia, buck mentions he misses kissing during the annual grant-nash christmas party. eddie, of course, offers to kiss him, and things spiral from there" word count: 16k rating: general audience important tags: getting together, mutual pining, gay!disaster eddie diaz, drunken kissing i wanna feel the sunshine, shinin' down on me and you by: maira "the one where buck accidentally kisses eddie." word count: 3.7k rating: teen and up important tags: idiots in love, soft!buddie, getting together, love confessions

#buck x eddie fic #buddie fic #buck x eddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 abc #buddie fics #buddie fic rec #911 show #911 fandom #buddie 911 #evan buck buckley #buck x eddie fanfics #buck x eddie smut #buddie fanfic #buddie recommendations #buddie recs

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hugshughes · 10 months

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invisible string L. Hughes

Luke Hughes x fem!reader

synopsis - Luke had been one of your closest friends since childhood. Somehow, everything in both of your lives just came back to each other.

wc - 3.8k

contains - cursing, literally nothing, extremeeeeeeeee fluff, kissing, hugging, cuddling, (im just a girl ok), obliviousness, this is a bittttt cliche... THEY CONFESS AND KISS IN THE RAIN OK???? idiots in love, eating and drinking. TAKES PLACE SUMMER 2023 (like end of May???)

an - SLIGHTLY EDITED!!! im hunrgy. anyways THIS WAS SO FCUKINF CUTE TO WRITEEEEEEE. my luke baby is so invisible string😇😇😇😇. ugh i miss him. i (possibly intoxicatedly) karaoked better man by Taylor Swift the other night just fyi. my author notes are like my personal diary because i assume no one reads them. i could prob say my ss number and full name address and no one would ever know. do u guys know how fuckign embarrassing it is to reread a fic u posted a few days ago and find typos like u guys probably think im stupid and hate me now. this was not at all about Luke Hughes or Invisible String... ENJOY BABIES!!!!

green was the color of the grass, where i used to read in centennial park. i used to think i would meet somebody there.

You were what some would call a hopeless romantic. You loved love. You loved reading it, watching it, seeing it in real life, it was just beautiful to you.

You'd grown up with the Hughes boys. They were your neighbors during the summer, your family's lake house being next to theirs. You were the same age as their youngest son, Luke. You two were ride or dies during the summer, and when you finally got a phone in seventh grade, you two texted the rest of the year.

It was finally summer, your school year at Notre Dame had come to a close and you were able to fly home and go to the lake with your family all by May 13th. You watched the final Canes games against the boys, you were sad for them, but so proud of your best friend.

It was nearing June, and you were alone in the lake house, opting out of the afternoon boat ride for some peace and quiet. You walked through the halls, stopping at the dresser covered in summer photos. You and your brother, you and Luke, more you and Luke, and some of your brother and the Hughes.

teal was the color of your shirt, when you were sixteen at the yogurt shop. you used to work at to make a little money.

You noticed one of your favorite photos wasn't there, the one of you and Luke when you were about 16, you're both standing behind the counter at the ice cream place you two worked at during that summer. You spent all day with Luke during those days, and it was the best.

You opened the dresser the photos sat on, seeing more photos. The ice cream shop one, and one you weren't anticipating. You didn't know your mom had printed and framed it. It was you and Luke the summer you were 18, both smiling at the camera with the sunset in the background as you sat on his lap in an Adirondack chair in the backyard of the Hughes' house.

The photo gave you crazy butterflies. That summer was the last time you saw Luke during the summer. Last summer you two were both at the lake at different times, you'd seen his whole family, minus him. His mom told you how he was still with his college teammates on a different Michigan lake. You had to act like you didn't really care, even though you did, so much.

Since the picture was just sitting in the dresser, not on display, you decided to take it to your room. You placed it gently on your bedside table, smiling then leaving to go down to the pool.

time, curious time. gave me no compasses, gave me no signs.

It was weird how you and Luke always seemed to be pulled together. There was some driving force between you two that was unbreakable, not even if you wanted it to. When it wasn't the summer, you lived three hours from the Hughes family, so randomly bumping into Luke was even more bizarre than anything else.

You remember when you were 15, you and your mom were picking up dinner one night at a local place and in walks Luke, Jack, and Ellen. You squealed when you saw him, running over to say hey. The boys had been in town for hockey, weirdly enough.

Interactions like that happened way more often than normal, you randomly bumped into the boy at least once every two or three months for years.

were there clues i didn't see? and isn't it just so pretty to think,

You remember when you were surprised by Luke at age 17. He came and surprised you as your prom date and you were floored. He had flowers and a corsage for you, and his tie matched your dress perfectly. Your moms thought it was the cutest thing ever, how you both blushed and giggled when near each other.

all along there was some invisible string, tying you to me?

Even though you two couldn't seem to get away from each other, neither of you ever made a move romantically. It just didn't seem realistic, you already lived hours away from each other and were going to colleges even farther, well Luke was going to the NHL but you get the point.

You guys were just best friends, always best friends. Your families knew, especially his brothers. They were your biggest fans, probably because they saw how you made their baby brother, how soft he was with you. You made him gentle, but also made him more comfortable and talkative, which Quinn and Jack loved.

ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

Luke made you weak, and your family noticed. You could jokingly bicker with him, but when it came down to real disagreement, you never could with Luke. He just gave you those deep hazel eyes and you were melted on the floor. He was just that person for you. The one who could ask you to do anything under the sun and you'd do it for his praise.

You spent long nights with Luke, sitting in the backyard of one of your lake houses and watching the moon and stars and talking about anything. You could listen to Luke talk about property tax for hours and probably never get bored, that's how much you admired him.

bad was the blood of the song in the cab, on your first trip to L.A. you ate at my favorite spot for dinner.

You remember the weirdest instance of your bumping into each other, you were in Los Angeles with friends during the very beginning of winter break and saw Luke eating in the same restaurant as you with a couple of his friends.

You texted him, not believing what you were seeing. You asked him if he was in L.A. When he responded 'Yes just for a few days why' you were shocked. You stood and made your way across the noisy restaurant and went up to his table, where you put your hand on his shoulder and when he turned around, he was the most surprised he'd been in a long time.

You remember he jumped up, hugging you so tightly, pulling away with his jaw still dropped. You guys always told each other you had to stop meeting 'like this', but it never seemed to stop.

The next day, you two planned to branch out from your friends and meet up for lunch. You guys drove a little ways from Los Angeles, east into the country, and ate at the cutest restaurant that had a view of a lake. You two always found yourselves together by lakes.

bold was the waitress on our three year trip, getting lunches down by the lake. she said i looked like an american singer.

You remember how bold your waitress was at that restaurant, immediately boasting about how she thought you two were the cutest couple she'd ever seen. Your face was burning hot, trying not to have a breakdown in the middle of the restaurant. It got even worse when Luke didn't correct her and just said 'Thank you', instead.

That was the last time you saw Luke, you were hoping to see him very soon, though. It had been almost two weeks since the loss to the Canes, so it made sense for the boys to be arriving soon. You'd already seen Ellen and Jim a couple of nights on the back porch with your parents, but no 6'2 boys named Luke were to be seen.

time, mystical time. cutting me open then healing me fine. were there clues i didn't see?

You'd had two boyfriends in your life. One in your 8th-grade year and freshman year of high school, then one in your junior year of high school. You'd broken up with boyfriend #2 because you realized you compared him to Luke, every move he made, you compared to Luke. It made you feel terrible, but you were head over heels for another boy.

You and Luke had your senior sunrises on the same day during your senior years, and decided to skip them and drive to the lake to watch the sunrise together. Your moms were furious, but it was one of the best memories you had with him.

Your interest in each other was so painfully obvious that most of your and his family referred to you as his girl during the summer. 'Where's Luke's girl?', or 'We're just waiting for Moose's girl.' It was never when you two were in the same room, so your reactions were always priceless.

and isn't it just so pretty to think, all along there was some invisible string, tying you to me?

Your family was back from their afternoon boating escapade and you could hear them all bustling in. The second they walked in you heard your brother shout for you.

"Moosey's girl! Come down here!"

ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

You blushed madly, getting up from your bed and walking down the stairs with an annoyed look on your face. When you got to the bottom of the stairs you could see your sister-in-law slapping your brother across the back of his head, telling him to leave you alone.

"What do you want?"

You immediately went from annoyed to overjoyed when your almost two year old niece ran over to you, shouting out your name. You picked her up, giving her a kiss on her tubby cheek, embracing her sandy and salt water ridden love.

"We're going out to dinner in like, an hour and a half? Honestly just whenever we can get that little monster bathed and dressed."

You nodded but immediately jumped to defend your little best friend.

"This thing? This baby is an angel, aren't you?"

The little girl nodded, a sassy smile on her face as she tried to say 'angel, dada.' in her slurred toddler speech.

"See?"

Your brother gave you both a look, before springing into action to grab his baby, tickling all the giggles and sqeals out of her.

You talked and played for a little longer before getting ready to go. You quickly showered and dried your hair, putting on a little linen white summer dress, and your old pair of Birkenstocks. You drove with your brother and sister-in-law on the way to dinner, sitting next to your niece in the backseat.

a string that pulled me out of all the wrong arms, right into that dive bar.

You guys were seated immediately at the restaurant, you sat between your sister-in-law and dad at the table, just close enough to talk to your favorite niece.

The restaurant was a popular spot for locals and tourists near the lake. It had a big bar in the middle and lots of tables surrounding, it was loud, but not obnoxious, and very homey. You'd probably been there over a hundred times in your life.

You were watching a random golf tournament on one of the many TVs in the bar when your brother called out your name. You looked up and the look on his face was excitement and shock.

"Look who happened to show up!"

something wrapped up all of my past mistakes, in barbed wire. chains around my demons. wool to brave the seasons.

He pointed behind him, and your eyes followed the trail to the entrance, where you saw none other than Luke Hughes standing with his family, waiting to be seated. Your jaw dropped, and a smile came over you. You saw Quinn hit Luke and then point directly at you, and when your eyes met Luke's, you could've fainted. He was in khakis and a white polo and looked so handsome.

You stood up, mumbling something to your family before practically running over to the entrance, throwing your arms around Luke.

one single thread of gold tied me to you.

"Holy shit."

Luke had his arms wrapped around you so tightly, he was so surprised to see you. He knew he would have seen you tomorrow if not tonight but he still just missed you and was shocked.

"We have gotta stop meeting like this."

You giggled when you pulled away from him, as reluctant as you were on the inside. You quickly hugged the rest of his family, not without Jack whispering, 'hey Moose's girl' to you.

You pleaded with the bar staff to push more tables together so you could sit with the Hughes, and it didn't take much convincing, seeing they'd known you since you were 6.

You sat next to Luke after the readjustment for the new tables, now sitting between him and your niece, who had all but thrown a fit about how she wanted to sit by you, not her dad, which made you laugh in his face.

At some point, you'd taken the baby from her high chair and brought her into your lap. You and Luke were both in your little world with her, she was so cute and loving. You guys didn't notice how practically the whole table stared at you with knowing eyes, they all knew, everyone except for you two.

The food came, and the baby was back in her seat. You just talked and talked and talked to Luke. You'd last seen him in December, and there was just so much to say. You'd both had tons of stuff happen to you, his NHL career, your career, everything was so exciting to tell him about.

Luke was so heavily infatuated with you, it was funny. His brothers watched as he folded for you so easily, admiring every syllable that left your mouth, nodding like a man possessed. They mumbled to each other, making fun of their baby brother's obliviousness.

cold was the steel of my axe to grind, for the boys who broke my heart. now i send their babies presents.

At some point, dinner got a little bit boring so you pulled out your phone, and what popped up was the baby registry you were buying something off of for your ex-boyfriend's pregnant wife. It was funny, how everything boiled down. Luke saw the infant clothing on your phone and gave you a questionable look.

"'S there something you're not telling me?"

You looked up at him, then back to your phone, your eyes going wide at the insinuation.

"Oh my God, Luke, no! This is for Darren's soon to be born baby, with his wife.

"Darren? Like your ex boyfriend Darren?"

You nodded, laughing and explaining the whole thing to him. You'd somehow become friends with his now wife in your freshman year of college, her junior year, and with the way the world worked for you of course she was married to your ex-boyfriend.

The rest of the night was perfect, and ended with your whole family, minus your sleeping niece, in the Hughes' backyard around the fire pit. That night you ended up right back where you were in the picture on your nightstand, right in Luke's lap in your favorite Adirondack chair.

You spent the next week with the Hughes boys, specifically your Hughes boy. You drove the boat out on the lake, wake surfed, Luke even convinced you to go golfing, not that it took him very long because you would say yes to anything he asked.

gold were the color of the leaves, when i showed you centennial park.

You sat by Luke at the end of the dock while you two watched the very cloudy sunset. There was supposed to be rain soon, but it didn't mean the sunset wasn't still pretty. Your thighs were pressed together with how close you sat to each other, giving you both warmth in your chest.

Neither of you said anything, but you both felt something when you let your head rest on his shoulder.

"This is so pretty, Lukey. I missed this with you."

It wasn't much, but it was a way to say that you loved him without saying the real words. I missed watching the sunset with you, I've always loved you.

hell was the journey, but it brought me heaven.

"I missed you."

You closed your eyes, you just wanted to be with him, didn't matter where. You could be watching a sunset on the lake or climbing a mountain, if you were with Luke you were happy.

"Think it's gonna rain soon?"

You looked up at him when you asked, your head never leaving his shoulder. He looked down for a second, before looking out at the sky.

time, wondrous time. gave me the blues and then purple-pink skies.

"Probably, but let's just stay for a few more minutes, okay?"

"Okay."

You relaxed into him further. His arm went to your back, rubbing back and forth. It could probably be pouring down rain and you wouldn't even notice, not when you had Luke with you, like this, you were Moose's girl after all.

It started sprinkling, causing you to look back at Luke, waiting to see if he reacted. He didnt, so you just stayed. Rain never hurt anybody, you'd be the last person to ruin this moment complaining about rain.

This was so strange. It felt like you were stuck in time, the gentle rain made you feel encapsulated in the moment. You sat there, staring off at the sky, the sunset was not as clear now with the thick clouds rolling in, but the colors were still there. The rain kept on passing through, the drops gaining weight and speed.

Luke didn't mind the rain, but he didn't want you to feel like he was forcing you out here, so he shifted to stand, grabbing your hand.

"C'mon, you can't get sick during summer."

You sighed, letting him pull you to your feet. He didn't let go of your hand as he turned to pull you back to your house. You don't know what came over you, but the circumstances seemed perfect, you felt like you had to tell him. You pulled him to a stop, and he turned to look with a confused face.

"What's wrong?"

You looked from him to the ground, looking at your feet, the worn dock you'd run around on summer after summer, the lake you grew up swimming with him in. This place was so full of Luke, of you and Luke.

"I, I really like you Luke. Like literally since we were 12, and I, I just.."

You trailed off, looking anywhere but those eyes.

Luke was flabbergasted. That's the only word to describe how he felt. The girl he was in love with, just said she liked him since they were little. He just stared at her, not believing what he heard.

"Are you for real?"

You would've been embarrassed, had you not heard the pure hope in his voice. You nodded, feeling your face heat up. You covered your face with your hands self-consciously. If you could look at Luke's face, you would’ve seen how he was red all from his neck to his ears.

Luke gently grabbed your hands, pulling them away from your face, and replacing them with his own. He tilted your head back so you looked at him, staring at you for just a second before pulling you in, kissing you, finally.

and it's cool, baby, with me.

Holy shit. You were freaking out, you were probably gonna be jumping up and down whenever he decided to stop kissing you. He did pull away, after a long while, when the rain started pouring. The colors of the sunset had been drowned out by the thunderclouds but you two still felt all sunny on the inside.

There was a rumble in the far distance, while you stared at him, and him back at you. You couldn't contain your excitement, you felt like running a marathon.

"Oh my God."

Your hands went back to your face, and you literally jumped. Luke laughed as you surged with happiness. He felt the same way, his smile bigger and brighter than ever before.

You grabbed his hand, tugging him back to your house quickly. You were finally under the cover of your back porch, out of harm's way. You grabbed two towels from the outside cupboards and wrapped yourselves up, you dried your feet off before running up the stairs, Luke hot on your tail.

You two got upstairs and sat on your bathroom counter while you dried off. You talked quietly, giggling an awful lot.

Once you got dry enough, you led him to your bedroom. You grabbed one of his sweatshirts you had before going to take a pair of your brother's shorts, throwing them to Luke when you got back to your room.

"Here, go change so you don't get sick."

You noticed he had more than the stuff you'd just thrown at him in his hands, he had the picture that previously sat on your night stand.

and isn't it just so pretty to think,

"I like this picture, you have to send it to me, baby."

Baby? You could've died. You nodded, mumbling out an butchered agreement, gesturing for him to leave and get dressed again.

While he was gone, you changed into some sweatpants and another one of Luke's sweatshirts, one you'd had for almost two years. When Luke came back into your room, he'd noticed your sweatshirt immediately. It was from his travel team when he was 16, and it made him so happy.

all along there was some invisible string,

You smiled at him sweetly as he walked back over to you, grabbing your face and kissing you for the second time in the last thirty minutes. You got the same butterflies you'd had living inside you since you were a little girl. This boy had been living in your head since you'd known him, and he was finally yours after you'd been his girl for so many years.

tying you to me?

You both pulled away, wrapping each other in a hug. Luke rocked you two back and forth, leaving kisses on your head.

"I love you, Moosey."

"I love you."

ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh he-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

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