#also i hate that random strand coming down his face its so weird to draw but its so himeru

[czekoja14]

If you want to, would you ever consider drawing HIMERU?

ive drawn himeru a whole once.. and i struggled immensely. ALTHOUGH ive started liking him more and more and decided,,,, its time to try again after i swore ill never draw himeru again..... formy idea i remembered the bunny card and i got flashbacks of moe himeru becaues it was funny.... So

moe bunny meru cutie patootie stuck in a pink dress . she is NOT playing !!!!!!!! SHES MAD !!!!!!!!

...........and also cat meru i drew on the side when trying to figure out how to draw his hair

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Never say never - Chapter 6

So, here’s the next instalment of this little romcom story...

°6° ~Victoria~

“But, I insist upon apologising to the other people in attendance, again.” Victoria hated apologising, but Martin had been right in telling her off about snubbing people who had done her no harm…this far.

Knowing that it would make Martin laugh, she snatched up a bowl of peanuts and held it in her palms like an offering.

As expected, the man beside her doubled over in hilarity, holding his sides as the wheezing grew painful. The polite but confused looks of his friends and colleagues seemed an endless well of amusement to him.

“Ah, thank you.” Hiddleston took up one of the nuts gingerly and shoved it into his mouth as if it had been a ritualistic offering indeed. “See? The tamest of…beasts.” Martin whispered into her ear, and she was tempted to pat the golden hair on the man soothingly.

Following the other man’s example, Armitage also picked a nut and ate it, keeping his eyes questioningly on her face.

“Look pleased, girl, smile at them.” Martin said in a hushed voice, nudging her in the side gently.

Victoria was almost sure that she was grimacing, her teeth bared awkwardly, but she had never been good at smiling on command and this fraught situation was, unfortunately, no exception to this shortcoming of hers.

“So, tell us, what did you refer to when you called this a “nerd-fest”?” Martin prompted her gently to speak, seemingly understanding that direct exhortations would get him nowhere with her. It was, in general, always best to come at a petrified Victoria sideways, starting a seemingly inconsequential conversation and letting it flow from there.

“There are literally dolls of you.” Victoria scoffed, moving her hands vaguely in front of her body in an imitation of how a child would play with a doll. “Not soft though, hard plastic…” Her hands sunk back, she was making a fool of herself.

“Dolls?” Liza hooted gleefully. “Well, I’ve also seen the theatre productions.” Victoria said, just a moment too late, her voice tinged with resentment again. She hated being caught unawares and being goaded into saying stupid shit.

“No, you tell me more about the dolls.” Liza was having fun, but her expression was devoid of malice or ill-will.

“Liza, I have seen those funny movies with the costumes and the creatures and…” Victoria sighed, she didn’t remember the names and she was already at a disadvantage here. She felt caught and put on the spot amidst these people who, naturally, knew those movies so well, down to the very lines of the characters.

“And did you like them?” The good beast, Tom as he had introduced himself with a smile, was grinning at her warmly again. Yes, she could see what Jenna saw in him, he seemed to radiate warmth and a polite friendliness.

“Oh, yes, very much. It was a bit…sad though.” Victoria shrugged. She was not ready to explain to a bunch of strangers that she didn’t like seeing bad family relations and vicious fights, as her reality had enough of those to last for a lifetime.

Liza looked at her questioningly, but after a moment, she understood. She had seen Vic pick up on the most random things, but strained family relationships and weird homosexual undertones were always amongst the things that moved her most. Also, like most soft-hearted, even though Vic was equally hard-headed, women, Victoria hated untimely deaths.

Maybe, her plan would work after all. All she had to do now was to draw back and hope that Armitage had a tad of charm on his own. He had taken the peanut and he was giving them his best constipated smile.

Waving discreetly at her wife, she withdrew, pulling Jenna along with her, much to the chagrin of the young woman.

“That is one good-looking man.” She sighed under her breath and Liza turned around, scanning the room for the person her wife’s employee might have meant by those words. Martin followed them discreetly, coaxing Benedict along with the promise of more cakes and sandwiches (and a prime vantage point to follow the developments of their plan).

“Where are you all going now? What?” Vic called out, distress in her voice. “I’ll be right back; you stay with Armitage.” Liza grinned suavely, physically shoving Jenna along as she dug her heels into the carpeted floor.

Victoria blinked, looking up at the man in front of her until she could feel herself grow slightly dizzy.

“Oh darn it! That’s it. I’m done trying to be pretty.” She cursed under her breath, opened her tiny clutch bag and fished out a pair of gold-rimmed, round glasses that she put on resolutely. Unfortunately, she could not suppress the gasp.

“Oh Saints.” She sighed under her breath as the slightly blurry surroundings became sharper instantly. She had known that these were dangerous men, but she had believed that her myopy and the artistry of the editors had embellished them considerably; suffice it to say that she was shocked to find that she had been wrong.

~Richard~

They had left her alone with that woman. Not entirely alone of course, Hiddleston was still hovering around, but Martin that treacherous weasel had followed the cakes and the gentler women, leaving him stranded with this surprising creature whose eyes made it quite hard for him to find something relevant to say.

She blinked owlishly up at him until he thought that she’d go cross-eyed. To his surprise – another one – she usually wore glasses and when she put them on, an obscene sound of pleasure escaped her half-open lips.

Again, she called to the Saints, pushing the glasses up before they had even had the chance or the time to slip, which told him that she wore her glasses more consistently than him and probably had done so for a long time.

She had made an inane comment about no longer attempting to be pretty, before putting on her glasses but that made no sense at all to him, as her glasses were beautiful and, in a strange way, so was she.

Obviously, pushing up her glasses was a habit or a tick as she did it twice while looking at him as if he was a painting in a museum rather than a real, living, breathing person. Then again, he stood nearly as still as a statue under her forbidding, critical gaze that roamed over his face with detached curiosity.

“Hmmm, how do you find the 1971 Armitage then?” Hiddleston stood next to her, eating peanuts, and joining her in her intense study of the immobile man facing them. No doubt, he deserved the attribute of “stony” now, Richard thought, dismayed to be the butt of the joke after all. He had known that had been a risk and he had walked right into it.

“1971?” She asked absent-mindedly, throwing a quick questioning look at her interlocutor before returning her gaze to him, and Richard flinched a little bit. Why did that man have to lead with his age when talking to a woman that young?

“A collectible, I’m sure.” Hiddleston purred, his voice laden with affectation which made Victoria chuckle again.

Hmmm, if it made her laugh rather than growl and spit, he would be standing there and be mocked for a little while longer, Richard decided. She looked like she needed a laugh.

“Not quite an antique.” Victoria opined, but Hiddleston was quick to reassure her: “Almost though. It’s been wonderfully preserved.” Again, that pealing, throaty laughter resounded, and Richard’s own mouth curled into an indulgent smile.

“This deserves to be in a gallery.” Victoria murmured, her voice devout and strangely vulnerable.

“I am right here; I can hear you.” Richard interjected, without much hope to break up their little game.

“AAAH, as you can see, Ma’am, it is unfortunately haunted. It can tell the time…if you hang it opposite a clock that is…” Hiddleston was quick to take Richard’s intervention in his stride, giving himself an apologetic expression that amused Victoria greatly. “Haunted? A piece of art so young?” She expressed her doubt and suspicion.

“Yes, yes…It’s looking for a good home though, a nice attic or a cellar maybe…” Hiddleston was waving his hands around Richard’s face as if to dazzle Victoria by the speed of his movements, an old trick salespeople used to distract from the inferior quality of their wares.

“I have a home, thank you, Hiddleston. I am not a piece of junk to be sold for 50p in a yard-sale.” Richard growled.

Her face grew grave, and he wondered what dark thought had crossed her mind to make her smile die on her lips. Immediately, he regretted having cut short their fun. He really was the grumpy, old sad sack he never wanted to be.

~Victoria~

When Tom spoke of attics and cellars, Victoria was immediately reminded of the stately house her father had raised her in. She could imagine a man like that one living there, she could picture a painting of a man such as that hanging in the great hall over the fireplace or high above the broad staircase winding its way to the two separate wings of the manor.

He had a skin like the Italian marble that had been so ridiculously slippery and that had made her afraid to take a fatal tumble down the very same staircase. Many people had told her that the idea was ludicrous and overly dramatic, but she knew it to be possible. Her mother had died that way.

Yes, there had been a bottle of bourbon and some prescription drugs in the mix as well, but the fact remained that her mother had fallen down the staircase and died on the spot from a broken neck. Father had replaced that patch of marble, but its veining was different, and they all hated that marred, ugly square that stood out like a sore thumb.

Thinking of her childhood home invariably made her sad; but she couldn’t deny that Richard Armitage would have fitted better into the décor than the little girl she had been.

He would look terribly imposing on the steps of the stairs or sitting in the huge armchairs in front of the roaring fire in the library. He would not be swallowed by every piece of furniture, he would not look out of place in the huge copper bathtub, and he would certainly not blend into the dark corners of the much too spacious rooms when the main lights were turned down. Maybe, she would have to get a painting of him and try to sneak it in to see if her father would even notice.

“Would that he were a painting.” She murmured, a desperate note sneaking into her voice that Tom picked up on immediately. There was pain in this woman, and he could see the gooseflesh on her arms as she tried to keep still. Evidently, she was on the verge of breaking into another run, unable to cope with something that distressed her, a thing that escaped his notice though…which frustrated him, as he really wanted to help her.

“So, you prefer the theatre to the cinema?” He asked, hoping it would be the right path to choose.

Victoria took a deep breath; this was what Liza and Angie had aimed for, for her to meet new people and talk about herself again. “I don’t know, I’ve only been to the movie theatre a few times before. It was a long time ago though.”

She could remember the smell of popcorn and of anticipation as the room grew dark and the screen lit up like a window to another world. Even then, she had been consumed with an absurd fear to be among so many other people; terrified of what they might think of her if she was to gasp or cry at the wrong moment, so she stayed immobile.

The man who would marry and divorce her within 10 years had thought that she had hated the experience and hence had not asked her to go to the cinema often afterwards. Maybe, if he had believed that she liked it, he would have taken her instead of other girls and this shared hobby would have strengthened their bond rather than frazzle it.

Victoria coughed, she had said too much already, and her heart was pounding. She was not ready for this.

“I’m sorry. I have to go home. I’m not feeling well.” She uttered hastily, turning to leave.

She was a terrible person; she had tried to make things right and all she had managed were fits and starts, broken off conversations that would leave a stale taste on the silver tongues of these men.

“I…can’t.” She stammered to no-one in particular as she waved at her friends and vanished before they could make their way back through the room to keep her from leaving like an absurd perversion of Cinderella.

She wanted to say how sorry she was, she wanted to thank them for their kindness, but she just couldn’t…so, she ran, her feet drumming against the pavement and her dress soaking up the moisture of the ground as she made for the next corner to catch a cab.

By the time she arrived home, her chest was heaving frantically, and she was crying with panic and distress.

When she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, Victoria had to admit to herself that she was irrevocably broken. She had had the great honour to meet people so fascinating and charming that many a woman would have torn out her own throat to be in her shoes and yet, she had not been able to shake the ghosts haunting her every breath, dogging her every step, spoiling her every pleasure.

Whatever Angie and Liza had thought they could achieve here, it would not happen, it never could.

~Richard~

That woman was utterly confusing. There were threads of a vibrant, quick-witted, funny person shining through behind a veil of confused anger, but somehow, they couldn’t get a hold of her.

In his mind, he could not reconcile the words he had read on the pages with the wide-eyed distress on her face; there was such a difference between the person he had imagined her to be and the person she had turned out to be in reality.

Now, it was true that his own taciturn demeanour had not been exactly conducive to drawing out the parts of her she was obviously hiding from the world, shielding them like deep wounds or fragile saplings.

Hiddleston however… that man was charming and even he had not managed to make her let down her guard for more than a few minutes at a time.

“What the fuck have you done to her?” Elizabeth stormed over, dismay writ plain on her face.

No, she had been angry before, she has bloody screamed at YOU, Richard thought, you cannot blame us for her leaving…but he still felt responsible and a tiny bit guilty. If he had been a little more open, she might have felt less insecure.

She has made it very clear that she’s afraid of you, he reminded himself, and you have done nothing to assuage her fears. No, you’ve given her your crooked, sharp-edged smiles that must indeed have looked like a predator baring its teeth at her more than the shy warmth he wanted them to convey.

“We were nice, all was well until Armitage gave her one of those cold, snide smiles.” Hiddleston shrugged and Richard felt weirdly hurt and betrayed even though he could hear that it had been a joke. Cold, a thing he had been called much too often and that made him despair within his own heart. He had not chosen his face and even after 50 years of life, he could not outrun its angular repulsiveness.

She had not known him well enough to be prejudiced, maybe, she would have been able to find warmth where others saw ice, but he had not managed to make her see. Also, Hiddleston had not been a great help.

“Awww, Richard, come on!” Martin sighed, disappointed, as if he was pursuing some ulterior motive Richard ignored.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Coffee and a Wedding (Chapter 10 of 12)

Happy Tuesday! Please be aware- next week there will be NO UPDATE for Coffee. I’ll be flying to NYC Redeye and Landing early on the 3rd. 

On that note, Notice something different in the title? Yeah? Know what that means? That means I’m officially done drafting this story and we know for sure how many chapters we’ve got to look forward to. 

Rated M for eventual Smut. 

Chapter warnings: Matt is in this chapter? I feel like that’s a warning on its own- Warning- you have to deal with Matt!

Check out the Masterlist for prior chapters. I am always thankful for any Ko-fi donations because lets face it, I drink my weight in coffee and in return you get a shit ton of words.

Clint x OFC

Chapter 10

“Welcome back.” Clint called from where he sat at the small dining table, his own laptop lighting up his face.  

Just ‘welcome back’. That was it. No ‘babe’. No pet names. That hurt way more than I expected. He didn’t even look up at me. It hurt more than it should have. I could feel my eyes well up and willed the tears away. This makeup job was expensive. The artist assured me that the layers would hold up through anything. Rain, sweat, tears and even a dip in the ocean. I still didn't feel like testing it until after the pictures over and done with.

It was fine. This is what I wanted. This is how it should have always been. I sniffled. It was a loud and ugly sound, louder than I had expected. Flinching, I regretted it instantly. Way to draw attention to yourself.

His eyes flicked up to me and there was a moment where I could see his face shift through a range of emotions. There was confusion first. After was this weird slack jawed look that was quickly replaced by shock as he stood up too fast, sending the chair falling behind him.

“Holy shit.” I rolled my eyes at his words. Yeah, of course it would shock him that I’m tearing up over nothing. There were countless times I’d taken a verbal beating from an unhappy customer before he’d step in and throw them out without so much as a tear in my eye.  

“We’ve gotta go in like an hour or so.” I hated how watery my voice sounded.  

“Yeah.” Clint said. “Sorry- I was tits deep in taxes. I’ll get changed right away.” He stood rooted in place though.

“Taxes?” I was thankful for the somewhat random distraction. “It’s not the end of the year yet.”

“Do them quarterly- makes it hurt less- Can I just say you look fucking amazing, babe?”

“What?” I didn’t mean to say it but I’m pretty sure I said it.  

“I mean- Holy. Shit. Your hair!” He hurried across the room toward me. “Turn, turn- let me see their work.”

“Okay?” I turned and my mind swam. What the hell was happening? Had he been off all morning because of taxes? What did he think of me then?  Were we back to how we were before? “It looks okay? It’s hard to see when they hold that little mirror up...”

“Yeah, babe. Let me- Here, I’ll get a picture of it.” Clint was talking a mile a minute. That was probably a good thing since I was still reeling from the change in him. “I hope Matt’s throwing some big dollars at Sarah’s hair because they went top notch on you.”

Clint slipped his phone in front of me after taking a picture. Sure, the lighting wasn’t great and the focus was a little off but that did nothing to hide the way the strands were pulled back in a comfortable braid. Gems dotted the mass of braided waves.  

“Your dress is in the closet- I’ll grab it for you and put it in the bathroom while you grab the other… stuff? You need to change. I’ll change out here.”  

~~~~~<3

“Clint?” I called through the door. When I tried on the dress there was a shop associate to help me into it. I didn’t think about trying to reach the zipper or laces on my own. And now I’ve been trying to get it on for the last thirty minutes. We were running out of time.  

“Yeah?”

“I need help.”  

That’s how I ended up standing with my back to Clint, arms crossed over my chest and holding the dress up and over my otherwise bare chest. I tried to ignore the fact that I was wearing a lace pair of panties that were probably clearly visible above where the zipper started.  

Clint thankfully made no comment about my panties or lack of a bra. While the air around us was so much more like what it had been, I could still feel an underlying current of something hanging around us. It was like the river thawed but the ice was still there on the surface. His fingers were cold as he curled them around the tab of the zipper.

With a tug at the base of the zipper’s path and in one smooth motion he was able to pull it up the small of my back. As it moved higher he had to stop, pulling the fabric together with one hand and inching the zipper up the rest of the way. Once the zipper was taken care of, he set to work lacing up the back.

“Time to go.” I said, looking at my phone before slipping it in the clutch style purse.

~~~~~<3

Clint was sitting on a folding chair with a water bottle in hand. Matt had offered him a beer but he had turned it down. Matt’s father also offered him a beer and likewise, he turned it down. I guess drinking before two in the afternoon wasn’t really Clint's thing?

I posed with Sarah for pictures while she was in her robe. The photographer was sweet and kind though their flash was blinding. Every time I caught sight of Clint he looked right at home, lounging in a folding chair or wherever he could find to sit as we were ushered through the spaces.

Finally, we were sent out for the real prep to get underway. We made our way to the  beach where somehow we were roped into set up. While we placed chairs and carpets settled into place, Clint resumed the soft touches I had grown so used to since the charade started. It made it even harder to focus on the task at hand- one we never agreed to in the first place- without ruining my dress. Also not helping was the suit Clint wore, tailored and hugging his form, necktie and shit matching the blues of my dress.  

By a quarter after three, guests started to arrive. Sarah had said it was going to be a fairly small gathering but as we had been setting out chair after chair earlier, I realized that wasn’t going to be the case. Still, setting out three million chairs did nothing to prepare me for the influx of what seemed to be three million people.

“Our job's done for now. Let’s get a seat before all the good ones are gone.” Clint whispered.  

He leaned down and planted a sweet kiss to the top of my head as he wrapped an arm around my side. Leaning into him, I let him lead me to one of the front rows as we settled into the seats. Around us, people I recognized from my teen years mingled with people I recognized from high roller magazines. Sometimes, men wearing expensive suits would come up to Clint and I, recognizing him from some Stark party or another.  

Every single time he introduced me as his girlfriend, my heart jumped into my throat. I saw the looks some of them gave us. Some thought I was too young for him. Some thought I was with him for his money. Some thought the only thing I could offer him was sex. The whispers were just loud enough for me to hear. Or maybe that was my own paranoia and self doubt.  

Regardless, it was time for everyone to take their seats and for Sarah to say her ‘I do’s. I wished that I could have shown her the pictures Clint had taken before now. I wished I could have gotten her to listen to me. I wished none of this was happening.

It was bitter sweet when the music started and the whole crowd stood to take a look at Sarah as she walked down the path. There was a light blue satin fabric that covered the smoothed sand. Each step left what looked a lot like waves behind her, smoothed out somewhat by the weight of her dress and the short train as she walked.

And she did make a beautiful bride. While the dress she wore was delicate and light and her hair had a perfect wave to it. The sun was reflecting off glittery gems placed in her hair. The same gems were placed in the bundle of flowers in her hand. None of it was as beautiful as the smile on her face.

And it all made my stomach turn. Clint squeezed my hand as the couple at the alter smiled lovingly at each other. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to vomit.  

“Breath.” Clint whispered in my ear. I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath. A tear slipped out of my eye and I harshly wiped it away.  

“You can object.” He pointed out as I let out a shaking breath.

“No.” I whispered back. “She didn’t believe me, she won’t now.”

“I’m sorry, babe.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his side as a few more tears slipped down my cheeks.  

I sought comfort in Clint’s embrace as Matt and Sarah said their vows, then their ‘I Do’s and the crowd cheered. We stood and clapped and I did my best to pretend to be happy for them. With a deep breath, I prepared myself for a few more photos before it was time for the reception.  

~~~~~<3

With Clint at my side, we made a direct path to the bar the moment we had gotten inside the doors. The music was soft and classy for now and there were trays of cocktails set out on tables and on the corners of the bar. Waiters walked with trays full of drinks.

I didn’t take my time with the first drink. Pictures had been a nightmare. I plastered on a wide smile and tried to look happy in the family pictures. I did my best but I’m not sure I ever could have really looked happy.  

The dinner was nice and expensive. The toasts sweet and I about cried with joy once it was time to dance. At least then I could pretend Sarah hadn’t just tied her life to a man I had grown to hate over the last few days. I wasn’t one that really threw the word ‘hate’ around carelessly. But I did hate him. God, I hated him so much.  

Still, when it was time to gather around and try to catch the bouquet, I gathered with the rest. Clint smiled on and cheered and I rolled my eyes at him. Women pushed and pulled on each other as Sarah took her far too pretty bouquet and turned her back on us.  

“One,” She said. “Two, three!” And the flowers sailed through the air.  

I was pushed and pulled until I was off to the side of the group. It happened so fast and I hadn’t really cared about catching the overpriced flowers. The bounced once, then twice on grabbing hands only to fall neatly in my half assed reach.  

What the ever loving fuck?  

There was a showering of congratulations. People who were jealous of me put on bright smiles and made teasing jokes. Everyone kept asking when Clint and I would be planning our wedding. Matt’s father clapped Clint on the shoulder and asked when he would be proposing.

We spent much of the night dancing and drinking. The cake was amazing and the party was amazing. I had almost put the thoughts of the horrible match out of my mind for most of the night. There was a live band and as the sun set, twinkling reflected off glassware and gems decorating the area. In the distance, the moon and stars quickly joined the party, making for the most romantic setting I’d ever seen.  

The party went on and I was wrapped up in being with Clint. I indulged in affection, both giving and receiving. It was selfish but I excused it. I couldn’t have anyone else questioning if I was holding back. And I didn’t want to hold back. It was a wedding, love was all around us.  

And I was in love with him. I think I was always aware of it, in a sense. But now I felt it in an earth shattering way. Yet it was a soft feeling. A warm feeling. I don’t think I could ever go back to before. Could I survive without the way he ran his hand along the small of my back and he walked by? Could I survive without hearing him call be ‘babe’ anymore?

Before my mind could wade through the buzz of the alcohol to dwell on that, I noticed a gaggle of suits gathered in a circle. Matt was standing among them and they were sharing laughs.  

“Most of them were at the party.” Clint offered as he spun me around only to pull me back into his arms. I didn’t think anything of it when Sarah made her way to them.  

“What’s this?” Her voice rang out loud enough for us to hear over the music. If we were father from the group, it would have been impossible to hear it at all though. We danced a little closer. “Who are they? When was-”

The rest of what she said was lost to me. At another table some bridesmaids downed shots to the cheering applause of spectators. I watched as Sarah broke from the group, clearly upset and made her way over to us. What happened? What did she see?

“Lexie” She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me from Clint's arms. Behind her, a distressed Matt approached. “I’m sorry. I saw the pictures. I’m so sorry I doubted you.”

“What are you sorry for?” Matt demanded, downing his glass of whiskey and setting it on a nearby table.  

“She tried to tell me, Matt. And I didn’t listen to her.” Sarah’s voice was getting louder. People around us were beginning to stop dancing. “I told her to stop imagining things.”

“I can explain, Sarah.” Matt pleaded, reaching out for the bride who only stepped away. “Sarah, calm down. You’re causing a scene. Let me explain.”

Sarah held her arms out and span around in a slow circle, swaying a bit on her feet. She was clearly drunk at least. “Then explain it to us.”

“Clint.” Matt said.

“Me?”

“Clint?” Sarah asked.

“Yeah.” Matt nodded, gaining traction. Clint grabbed a drink off a tray as the attendant passed and took a long drink as Matt opened his mouth to start again. “We had the games set, the drinks, Mozart on the sound system. Real classy.” Clint snorted into his drink, earning himself a jab from my elbow. “Clint called the strippers. Called it ‘a gift’ and that my planned party wasn’t the way ‘real men’ do it.”

“He what?” Sarah gasped and I think I pulled a muscle rolling my eyes.

“How can you believe that?” I challenged.  

“I don’t know Clint.” Sarah retorted. “I know Matt.”

“Do you?” Clint asked.

“I know him better than I know you.” Sarah jabbed her finger into Clint’s chest before turning on me. “If you wouldn’t have kept him hidden, maybe I would know him.”

“I didn’t keep him hidden.” I fumbled.  

“Oh?” Matt said. “So what, Clint didn’t want you to tell anyone about him? Was he that against being tied to you?”

“Excuse me?” Clint’s voice was getting that hard edge to it, the one I only rarely heard.  

“I bet he doesn’t even take you on dates.” Matt said.

“He does.” I was freaking out. This wasn’t something we talked about. I didn’t have a plan for this. We didn’t have a story for this.  

“Where?” Matt asked. “When last?”

“You always said you didn’t have time to breath, let alone date.” Sarah offered.  

“So what, you date in?” Matt asked.  

“What’s wrong with staying in?” I asked. This was getting out of control.

“Stay at home dates are just a cover for sex.” Matt answered. “He’s just after you for sex. All he cares about is sex. So he hired what he called ‘strippers’. I’m pretty sure they were just hookers.”

“Clint’s a good man. He treats me right.”  

“So what? You’re after him for his money? Lord knows he keeps saying he has it. Is he giving you all his money? Is that why he has an old watch?”

“Matt- She’s my sister.” Sarah was faltering. I couldn’t imagine what she saw in him but at least she wasn’t against me. Not totally.  

“Enough.” Clint said. His voice was low and firm.  

“You brought strippers- Hookers- to my- to Matt’s party and want to say what’s enough?”  

“Even if I did hire the strippers- and I did not, I did not make Matt try to swallow one’s face. I didn’t make Matt touch them. I didn’t make Matt struggle to carry one to the broom closet where I’m sure they had sex.”

“How dare you- I did not have sex with one of them!” Matt’s face was red.  

“But you kissed one?” Sarah challenged, turning on her husband as Clint down the rest of his drink and set it on a passing tray, switching it for a fresh one. “You did, I- that was one of the pictures.”  

“But- I- I- I’m not the one who called them.” Sarah slapped him and marched away.

“Look, how am I the bad guy just because Alexis can’t fuck Clint well enough and he needs to watch stripper’s-”  

It happened so fast. One second Matt was talking and the next, a crack echoed through the silent air and Matt was crashing to the ground. There were gasps and whispers. Sarah had stopped in her tracks and turned to look, eyes wide.  

Reaching out, I wrapped my arms around Clint’s arm. I guess I thought I was going to try to hold him back. It didn’t matter though because he made no move to advance on the man on the ground.  

“Stay down.” Clint’s voice was cold as ice and carried through the room as he looked around. His shoulders were squared and his head was held high. He rubbed his knuckles.  

“Clint?” I whispered.  

“I want to make something vary clear, to everyone in this room.” Clint’s voice carried through the room, projected and full of steel. “You can insult me all day. You can question my means and my finances. You can judge my watch for being a few years old. You can judge me for my age. You can judge me for my business. But I will not stand for anyone talking about the woman I love like that.”  

~~~~~<3

With Coffee coming to a close, those of you who are only being tagged in Coffee- let me know if you want to migrate over to any other tag lists. 

Tag List: @theheartofpenelope, @winterisakiller, @tnystrk-exe, @bradfordbantams, @ruebx, @hufflepuff25, @0-0-0-0-0-0-0-7, @theoneanna, @alexakeyloveloki, @toozmanykids, @j-u-s-t-4, @missaphrodite23, @bambamwolf87, @nonsensicalobsessions, @tinchentitri, @xoxabs88xox, @queenoftheunderdark, @wegingerangelica, @myoxisbroken, @coyotesongwriting

[mikkachu8888]

A/N I do not own any of the main plot line or characters of Marvel. Those rights are reserved for the creators. Thank you.

Peter x adult!reader

You were nervous to say the least. You looked at the clock on your wall again. It was probably only 15 minutes until they would arrive. You sighed. Mae and Peter are coming over for dinner. It's only been a few months since Tony's funeral and you can't say you were coping well. Natasha...Tony... Steve... all gone. Steve wasn't dead, but he seemed on the verge of it due to his old age now, but either way you weren't ready to let him go either. It felt like you were robbed of so much time you could have spent with him. He always was my most understanding fake uncle/dad/brother...or whatever you wanted to consider him. It didn't matter how you felt though, it's what makes him happy and you have to respect that... even if internally you weren't ready to bury another one of your family members. These people helped raise you and it broke your heart to see how your family got so much smaller.

Clint made more of an appearance in your life after the events, however. After Nat died you both found great comfort and grieving her death together. He became your new outlet to vent, which had previously belonged to Steve. Actually, this whole dinner was Clint's idea. It was something that was meant to clear the air between Peter and I.

"Are you okay?"

I turned to the voice and saw my fiancé of 8 months standing in the kitchen door with his hands in his pockets and looking at me with a concerned, but supportive smile.

"No..." I admit. "I've faced mass genocide, the largest war to human kind, and losing most of my family all at once... and yet... I've never been more nervous than I am right now."

"What do you think is going to happen?" (f/n) says.

"I don't know... I know it's really not that big of a deal compared to what we've all gone through before, but for some reason I can't bear to see Peter so upset with me. It...Just...It hurts my heart. I can't explain it." you say putting your face into your hands.

"I understand... and to be honest I think it is... a big deal." (f/n) says walking over and placing his hands on my arms gently. "So many families have been disrupted by the blip. Parents seeing their children all grown up all of a sudden, couples having larger age gaps and who have grieved and moved on, people who have blipped and realized that their loved ones that have remained here passed away in that what seemed to be moments they've been gone...in which it was actually years."

You looked up at him. He gave a small smile. "You are not the only one struggling to adjust in these weird times and grieving the lost time. I'm sure Peter is just as confused and nervous as you are. He was your boyfriend, your lover. You guys were very close and I'm sure when he came back from the blip he still thought you were the same as ever... only to realize that it wasn't the case."

"He saw me for the first time at Tony's funeral...and he wouldn't even talk to me. He just stared at me... almost like he was afraid of me." The sentence came out like it was a soft whisper, but ended with just pain and hurt in it.

"Is that a bad thing?" (f/n) asked. "Wouldn't you be? I know I would, especially if I was just a 16 year old kid."

"No no...No... You're right. I honestly should be thinking about him too. He's probably shell shocked and I'm just worried about myself." You take a deep breath and gave a slight bitter chuckle. "I'm the adult here. I've matured and learned to cope. I shouldn't be the one who's scared here."

"I think it's okay for you both to be scared. Don't worry, though. I'll be there and Mae will be there to help. Clint says he'll be standing by if you need help." It was at that moment, the doorbell rang making you jump. "You got this. I promise."

He gave you a kiss on the cheek before leaving to answer the door. You mulled over his words for a moment before sucking in a breath and following him. As you walked through your living room you reached up and began fixing your hair as you walked. You wanted to make sure you at least looked like you weren't a complete mess, but you were on the inside. A horrible, grieving, pitiful, shawarma and ice cream eating mess.

I wore black. It was my go to color. Not because I was sad or grieving, but because it is the most convenient color and showed so much class while also hiding your shame. There was very little the color black couldn't hide. You were grateful that when you joined SHIELD and the main uniform color was black. You cut your hair shorter and mostly wore it up in a tight seamless bun for work, but tonight it is in its full glory. Your fiancé wore basic white button up and black pants. He had on a tie before, but you supposed it was bothering him so he took it off. At least he put on the black blazer as well. You never liked the tie anyway. It was just something Steve had said one time that was necessary for important events. He taught (f/n) how to tie it and everything.

You stood beside (f/n) a little ways back as you were bit afraid. He opened the door and there stood Mae, Peter, and shockingly Happy smiling back. Peter actually wasn't smiling. He wasn't even looking at neither you nor (y/n). His gaze was to the side towards the floor. It was clear that he wasn't ready to face reality either. Your eyes moved back to the group as a whole. "Happy, what are you doing here?" You- asked stretching out a smile that may have seemed a little forced.

"Well, I was just popping over to the Parker residence from visiting Pepper and Morgan, and Mae invited me to come along, so I thought I haven't seen you in a while and there was no harm in dropping by as well. I wanted to see what you've been up to and what not." Happy nodded with a big smile. He leaned close and half whispered "Mae thought that you all could use as much help as you could get with this weird situation anyway."

"O-oh... okay... well um. Thanks for coming. I'm sure it's appreciated." You internally cursed. More people to witness the horror that will be this dinner. You turned your attention to Mae. "Hi, Mae." You smiled a bit and you could tell she already had tears pricking her eyes and she held out her arms for a big hug. She gave you tight motherly squeeze and rubbed your back. "Hi, Honey. Gosh, you've gotten so big. You just look absolutely beautiful."

"Yes. Thank you. It's been so long since I've seen you... Well I suppose not to you." You attempted a joke to lighten the mood. She and Happy laughed though that joke didn't seem to land well with Peter as he didn't laugh and only seemed to be made more uncomfortable.

Your eyes did fixate on Peter now and the silence of the group became thick and very tense. He wasn't saying anything and you bit your lip. "Hey...Peter." Your voice was softer and sounded week. He looked exactly the same. Young baby face with wispy brown hair that seemed to like to hang in his face depending how it fell. He did a pretty good job at keeping it combed back, however. His brown eyes finally looked back at you and widened just slightly. You looked so much different, yet, exactly the same. For starters, the makeup. That was so much more new. You never wore makeup. You were perfectly happy with the nude appearance of your face. Although you weren't wearing much makeup it was still prevalent that you had some on, but just enough to look clean and classy. Your hair wasn't as super long as you had it when you were younger. It was always down and long and it was a daily struggle for you to keep it maintained and out of paint or your food at lunch. You were always getting it caught in your mouth or finding random strands of it on your clothing or in your stuff. He remembered how sometimes when he kissed you your hair would get caught between their lips. It was embarrassing then, but now he missed it. Now it was cut much shorter and seemed more tamed. He wasn't sure if he liked that or not. It didn't matter, however, for some reason in Peter's mind it made you look all the much more mature and older. Everything about you seemed older and mature. Your body was different. Slightly wider hips and a bit larger breasts. He probably wouldn't have noticed either difference if it wasn't for the dress you were wearing... or for the matter that you were wearing a dress at all. Dresses and skirts weren't your forte last time he saw you. You said they restricted you from doing the things you wanted to do. No, leggings and jeans covered in paint, pen marks, sharpies was what you wore on a daily basis along with an oversized hoody of some sort. Peter looked down at the ground. He noticed you weren't wearing any shoes. He cracked a slight side smile. At least that was one thing that didn't changed about you. You always hated wearing shoes. It didn't matter where you were or the temperature outside. Shoes were never the priority for you. You always carried a pair and wore them when you had to, but if they bothered you too much or you just found them unnecessary you'd kick them off and immediately toss them in your backpack. So many times you'd walk down the school halls bare foot with some type of drawing that you drew on them from being bored in class. Peter always thought that little quirk was cute. He could actually see a little tattoo on the side of your foot, but couldn't make it out in that moment. In fact when he looked closer, he saw that both your feet looked slightly different from each other. He wasn't quite sure, but it seemed the foot with the tattoo seemed somewhat off. He just wasn't sure what was different.

His voice finally decided to make an appearance. "Hey... again..." It didn't come out as strong as he wanted it to, but it came out enough for her to hear.

"How are you?" You asked him.

"Uh..." He didn't have anything to say. He just gave an awkward nod and a generic 'ok'. He wasn't ready to talk. You backed off and looked at the group as a whole once more.

"Oh um... everyone. This is my fiancé, (f/n)" you said stepping back and introducing your now future husband. Peter's face immediately dropped. His eyes widened and he looked back and forth between you and your fiancé in an almost panicked state. He couldn't believe it. You had found someone else. You had left him.

"Hi, everyone." (f/n) smiled and waved and shook everyone's hand, except Peter who didn't even attempt to raise his hand. His face now stared wide eyed at your fiancé who waited patiently for his hand in return. Mae nudged Peter's arm and he blinked a couple of times in realization and took (f/n)'s hand to shake. "Oh yeah um sorry... it's nice to meet you." He says politely trying to cover up how frazzled he was for a moment.

"Well, everyone. Why don't you come inside?" You say and step to the side allowing everyone to filter into your home.

"Wow... fancy." Happy says looking around at stuff.

"Happy, you knew I lived here." You say unamused.

"I've never seen the inside, though." He commented back.

"So how long have you lived here?" Mae asks looking at the light fixtures.

"3 years or so now." You say watching them. "I know it's much different than that dingy apartment I was at before."

"Yeah um.... How did you get a place like this?" Peter asks quietly.

"Uh well... with my new job and the housing being cheaper from the blip and-"

"Tony bought it." Happy commented bluntly cutting you off.

You sighed. "Yes. Tony bought and designed it for me. My job at SHIELD lets me be able to pay for it."

"You work at SHIELD?" peter asks glancing back at you.

"Yes. Head of the entire global security and protection program. Also, I'm a public advocate for the international super powered and mutated community." You say with a bit of pride.

"Wow that sounds like a very high position." Mae says.

"It can be, I suppose." You shrug your shoulders.

"You've certainly come a long way since you were young." Mae says a little sad.

"I think everyone who was left here during the blip has. It just depends on if they came a long way for the better or worse. That depends on the person." You state glancing at Happy. "Right, Happy?"

"Yeah. There's been a lot of people who dropped over the edge since that, but also a lot of people who've thrived since then. We've seen it all." Happy says skeptically looking at one of the vases you had on your counter. You walked over and took the vase from Happy's hands. "Why don't we all sit down before you break something." You says putting the vase back down where it was.

"Where did you get that? It's hideous." Happy says moving towards the sofa.

"It came with the house." You stated.

"Why'd you keep it?" Happy says scrunching up his nose.

"Don't worry about it." You say ushering him to the couch.

"I happen to like it. I think it's... unique." Mae says admiring it from afar as she sat next to Happy and Peter on one of the sofas. You and (f/n) sat across from them on the other. He gave them each glasses of water in case they got thirsty. You hadn't seen him even go into the kitchen to get them.

"Oh yeah... I mean... if you look at it that way then I guess it's pretty nice." Happy says backtracking and taking a pert sip of the water he was just given. Your eyes furrow as you look between Happy and Mae. You glance at Peter who also seems confused at the interaction.

"Okay...so Happy. What were you doing at the Parker residence?" you ask Happy with a smirk.

"Oh you know. Just checking in. See how Peter is doing." Happy says not so casually.

"I see." You say as your eyes look back at Peter. "So, Peter."

"Huh?" he asks a little startled by my turn of attention to him. The water in his cup sloshing at the sudden movement. "How are you doing?"

"Oh um... okay, I guess." He responds nodding. That was it. The entire highlight of the conversation between us for the rest of the time. The rest of the time he and you both remained quiet and only spoke when spoken too. You were hurt. He was hurt. You could tell. Not only because you know him, but because teenagers tend to have less of a poker face when they're upset. No matter how hard they try to hide it, it usually slips through that they are emotional in that moment. You have learned to control that side of you a lot better. You are no longer that emotional and even if you were, you've learned to hide it a lot better. Your face remains impassive, but you sit there thinking that perhaps he doesn't need impassive. He needs something to know that you are feeling much of the same feelings he is feeling. You just don't know what to say.

"If you don't mind me asking, how did you two meet?" Mae asks setting her glass on the coffee table in front of us. Peter's attention becomes more alert at the question. It was obvious he was wondering the same thing. Just when did this happen?

"Oh no. I don't mind. I suppose that is one of the big elephant questions in the room." You say a little nervously.

"We met in physical therapy. We had the same Therapist and she brought all her patients together for group stretching once a week. It was something that was set up through a volunteer group for people with superpowers and mutations. I can't exactly remember the name, but it was group that helped with the devastation after the snap. They helped clean up and got people out of crisis and arranged for a lot of the people with powers who were injured to receive medical attention and physical therapy from medical professionals that had mutations of some sort as to not expose us or risk exploitation. Do you remember the volunteer organization's name?" (f/n) asked looking at me.

"It wasn't an organization. It was a school, I believe. Dr. Xavier ran the school. He's quite the man. I talk to him every now and again, but I haven't heard from him quite a while. He's part of the reason I got my foot in the door for advocating for those with superpowers or mutants as they call them." You state.

"Interesting. What were you going to physical therapy for?" Mae asked. "Or what I mean is, what happened?"

"Well I was on a train in New York with my sister and mother when people starting dusting away. I suppose the conductor was one of those people because our train never stopped and crashed full force into one of the buildings and derailed us from the tracks over a bridge, it sent us crashing into the streets. My mother died on impact, but I was able to protect my sister with my body. I can turn my body into different materials, so I was able to keep most of the things away from her and she just had a couple of broken bones, but I didn't move fast enough because I got a metal rod straight through the chest. It broke right near my sternum. I had no clue why or how I was still alive. I thought I was going to die in there for sure until some of the students from that school showed up." (f/n) unbuttoned his shirt half way to show the large star like shaped scar right in the center of his chest.

"That's awesome..." Happy muttered looking in awe at his scar before getting nudged in the shoulder by Mae. "I mean terrible. Truly terrible. I'm sorry for your loss."

"Yes, that's awful. I'm sorry that happened to you." Mae says sympathetically.

(f/n) chuckled and buttoned his shirt back up. "No, don't worry about it. These types of things make us stronger right? And I do agree with Happy. I think my scar is pretty awesome." He patted his chest proudly. You smiled in amusement and gave slight chuckle.

"...and you?" Peter's soft voice piped up after a moment. Everyone looked at him. He was looking at you. You weren't really sure what he was trying to ask you. He glanced at everyone before licking his lips and trying again to clarify. "Uh um. What I mean is what happened to you... as well? Why were you in, you know, physical therapy?"

"Oh. I was actually in Africa fighting in battle." You sated simply.

"You were a part of the Battle of Wakanda?" Peter asks sitting up straighter now.

You smiled a bit and let out a breathy laugh. "Yeah. It was like pulling teeth to convince Steve to let me, but yeah. I was. It was a savage alien that bit and clawed into my leg and that started the problems, but it was a female servant of Thanos that actually took my leg. Cut it clean off with swords she had."

"Oh my god. That's horrible." Mae exclaimed and Peter's eyes traveled to your foot once more. That's why your foot looked so off. It was a prosthetic. Peter thought it looked too real to be a prosthetic, but too fake to be real. You were able to walk so seamlessly though. Like you never lost your leg at all.

"Not as horrible as for her. When Natasha found out she was absolutely pissed. She and one of the Wakanda guards kicked her ass." You laughed outwardly. Peter saw the old you come out all of a sudden and all at once. He smiled brightly. "And then what happened?" he asked.

"They sent her ass through her own giant alien sawblade that they tried to kill us with!" You were full blown laughing now. The memory had you almost in tears because of how convenient and karmic the whole thing was. If you remembered correctly you remember yourself laughing in that moment as well. Despite nearly being dead in a ditch and bleeding out uncontrollably, you were still verbally shouting out cheers of praise to Nat as she fought and when she came to quickly bandage you up to stop the bleeding. You remembered Nat replying to you "Shut up, kid or I'll leave you here instead. All that shouting is going to make you pass out anyway." Funny enough she wasn't too far off the target because it wasn't long after she told you that did you fall unconscious from blood loss and woke up with a sweet new robotic vibranium prosthetic leg in Wakanda's medical ward.

"So, if she cut your leg off what happened next." Peter asked now interested in the story.

"Nat bandaged me up, I passed out, and I woke up with a sweet new robotic leg in Wakanda's medical ward. After I was healed enough I was transferred to Xavier's school where I sharpened my powers and did physical therapy along with the others. Once I was healed, Tony came back from outer space. Once he was recovered he told us everything and eventually upgraded my leg. Now it looks almost like I never lost a leg. Well, sort of. It still looks a bit off and it glitches every now and again, but I'm not complaining. I can still walk so." You shrugged now crossing your leg over the other and folding your arms over your chest.

"Wow. That's really cool." Peter said breathlessly. He seemed to admire you so much more. You knew you were now Tony Stark, but it was nice to have those admiring eyes directed towards you for once. The type of eyes that didn't hold romantic feelings, but still held the belief that everything you did was cool and amazing.

"Thank you, Peter." You smiled.

"So when are you two getting married?" Happy asks randomly and taking a gulp of water.

*smash*

The glass in Peter's hand immediately smashes in his palm. Everyone makes a noise in surprise at the sudden sound and turn to Peter. "Oh! Uh... I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! I'll... I'll clean it up." Peter says getting down on the floor to clean it up.

"Peter, your hand." You gasp setting your cup down. His hand started bleeding from all the glass shards that decided to embed themselves into his skin.

"Oh um..." Peter's face flushed a bright red. He couldn't help but feel intense embarrassment about the situation.

"Don't worry about the glass. I got it. You go with (y/n) and get your hand all patched up, okay?" (f/n) says already standing to go and get the broom.

"Yeah, come on, Peter. I have a first aid kit in the kitchen." You say standing up and helping him to his feet. You held his arm as he kept his hand underneath his injured one, hoping to catch the blood so it wouldn't get onto your carpet. You walked him to the kitchen. "Just put your hand over the sink and I'll be there in a moment."

"Okay." Peter says doing what you asked as you began to rummage around the medicine cabinet. Peter began to run his hand under a bit of water as you came back with the first aid kit. You first got some tweezers and a dish towel and dragged 2 chairs over so we could sit. You first sat down and put the dish towel across your lap. Peter then sat down and you gently grabbed his hand and set it in your lap while looking closely at it. "Nothing bad it looks like. Obviously nothing the Amazing Spiderman can't handle." You joke looking at him with a smile and he smiles back with an awkward laugh.

A silence falls over you both as you begin to focus on plucking the tiny shards from his hand. You didn't notice how the air got thicker and you certainly didn't notice how things got increasingly more difficult for Peter to stomach. He stared at you the entire time and the longer he did the more his heart broke. You didn't notice how his straight face slowly broke until you saw a few tear drops fall onto the surface of the hand you were working on and you heard a choked back sob. You looked up and saw his face as he turned away. You set the towel with glass pieces aside and held his hand. You knew he wasn't crying because of his hand or if there was a possibility you hurt him. He was much tougher than that. You also knew you couldn't physically hurt him even if you wanted to. His powers made it easier for him to handle a lot more than a regular human. No, his pain was internal. His kind soft heart was bursting with pain. "Peter..." you said softly with a frown.

"I... I miss you." He said finally with his head down and his chest heaved. "I miss you so much."

This is where your heart broke and you couldn't even keep your composure anymore. You hugged Peter and you hugged him tight. You hugged him like how you wanted to hug him the day you found out that he was one of the victims of the Snap. You hugged him like he would dust away again. You hugged him like he would leave you again, but this time not come back. And you cried. Oh, you cried like you should have when you first saw him again. You cried as you were finally getting the closure you wanted. It was five years, but you had him in your arms again and you couldn't be more grateful. "I miss you, too."

"First I lost Mr. Stark and now you..." he began crying harder now. He drops to his knees on the floor and his face goes to your lap.

"That's not true. I'm right here." I told him holding him tighter.

"But you're not mine anymore. You're his... and it only seems like just a few months ago you were at my house and we were playing video games and listening to music." Peter said getting his voice more.

"But it wasn't a few months ago. It's been years, Peter." You tell him stroking his hair.

"I know... but... it's just not fair!" he says gripping the fabric of your dress around your thighs tight in his balled fists.

"I know, I know it's not fair." You tell him as more tears fell from your eyes.

"If... if he wasn't there... If you weren't getting married, would you wait for me?" he asked quietly. You pressed your lips together. This was a very heavy question. It wouldn't change the outcome of how things were now no matter how you answered, but it could change the way Peter thought about things and how your relationship would be from here on out. You had to answer carefully. Either he could be angry with you and refuse to have contact with you, or he could have a false sense of hope and closure all depending on how you answered his question. You just hated to see him so upset and you wanted to give in, but you also could not lie to him either. If you ever loved him then you would not lie to him, even now.

"No, Peter." I told him gently petting his hair. His body tensed at the words. "Look at me."

He didn't move, so you shifted your body away slightly and lifted his chin up, so he would look at you. "Peter, I want you to listen to me. I want you to really hear what I am trying to tell you."

He looks at you with his tear stained face, but he does what you ask. "What happened to us is cruel and unfair, but it did happen. This whole situation is hard to swallow and seeing you like this kills me. Seeing your face for the first time when you came back and realizing you didn't grow up with me was one of the hardest things I had to come to terms with because I immediately realized that we couldn't work. I think it was even harder for me when I realized that when you came back, you had no idea what had happened and you thought we were still together like always. I found it difficult when I saw the reality hit you when you looked at me for the first time at Tony's funeral. I still care deeply for you, but you are still a child, Peter. You blipped. I didn't. I mourned and moved on. I know that when you become in your twenties it won't really be a big deal anymore with the age gap, but that's nearly 10 years of my life waiting for you. That's 10 years of my life halted and stagnant. That's also nearly 5 years of your life wasted waiting on me when you also need to move on. I'm sorry, but it won't be healthy if you wait for me."

He doesn't say anything for a long while. He just sets his head back down in your lap as he thinks over what you just told him. I don't mind, however. You said what you had to. You couldn't lie to him. It wasn't the adult or right thing to do. You had to just rip the band aid off. It seemed we sat there for a while. I knew the others were giving us our privacy. We all knew this dinner was really just to break the news to Peter that our relationship wouldn't work and hoping we could still be okay afterwards.

"Do you love him?" he asked quietly, his voice breaking a bit.

"Yes." You answered back.

"Did you love me?"

"Yes."

"Do you still love me?"

"Yes."

"But... not the same way..." he sighed.

"...No... not in the same way." You tell him gently.

"I... I suppose that's okay." He muttered, even if he didn't like his own answer.

"Thank you, Peter." You say with a smile looking down at him.

"For what?" he asks looking up at you.

"For understanding, for not being angry, for being a good person, for doing the right thing for yourself and I, ... and for just giving me some of the best moments of my life being with you." You tell him happily.

"O-oh. No problem." He says now getting back up off the floor and going to his feet.

You follow suit. His face was still tear stained, but he didn't have complete dread in his eyes anymore.

"It's going to take a while for me to get over you." He says looking at the ground.

"I know it will because it took me awhile. (f/n) was very patient with me." You tell him before thought came into her head. "Peter, I know this is too soon, but may I point you in a direction of people to consider giving a chance?"

"Um... okay?" He didn't seem too comfortable, but he was open to hear what she suggested.

"You know Michelle Jones that was in our class, right? I believe she just went by MJ."

"MJ?" Peter thought taking it into consideration.

[shipmistress9]

Not one of Them - Epilogue 7: Good Memories and Two Firsts

Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3: Chapter 4

Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8

Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Epilogue 1; Epilogue 2

Epilogue 3; Epilogue 4; Epilogue 5; Epiloge 6

Alright, here it is. It took a while because I'm already writing and plotting the next story.

As promised, we go back to happy Hiccstrid here. Fluff, and smut, and more fluff, and more smut, ending with fluff again. I hope you'll like it ;)

Grinning widely about the sober notification he'd just gotten on his phone, Hiccup dug for his keys, and opened the door to their flat. And then grinned even wider when he heard a stream of unashamed curses. Swiftly, he got rid of his jacket, grabbed the bag with his shopping, and entered the living room, eager not to miss the comical display.

As expected, Astrid was walking up and down in front of the large windows at the opposite side of the room. She looked beautiful in a tightly fitting red top and that sorry excuse of a skirt, even with that disgruntled expression on her face, hands running through her hair, and ranting into thin air.

Her phone, Hiccup noticed, lay on the kitchen counter, its display glowing with the signs of an active call, one unread message, and a muted microphone. He placed the shopping bag next to it on the counter, and walked over to take his girlfriend into his arms.

"That bad?" he asked, smirking into her hair where she couldn't see it.

"Worse!" she growled angrily. "I swear, if that old scarecrow doesn't stop changing his mind, I'll turn into an axe-murderer. This is the sixth time now. The sixth! I mean, I'm pretty sure I got what he was asking for. But every fucking time I send him my sketch, he comes up with another alteration. And then shouts at me for not being able to read his mind. Gods, why am I doing this again?"

Hiccup pressed his lips to her forehead, snickering inwardly, and felt her relaxing already in his arms. "Because you love your job," he murmured against her skin, making an effort to sound calm and serious. "Because this old man is just a client, and the company wouldn't have given us this assignment if they thought it unimportant or boring, because we're the best. Because you know he's probably doing it just to listen to your beautiful voice some more. Because you're a professional, and that weirdo is not worth your anger. And because you'll love it when I have to deal with him, once he's satisfied with your sketch."

Chuckling quietly, she snuggled closer into his embrace. "Right," she snickered. "That'll be fun to watch." She stretched to give him a light peck on his mouth, whispered a low "Thanks!" against his lips, and retreated before he could pull her in for a real kiss. "But I need to get back to being a professional now."

With a smile, she wound her way out of his embrace, snatched her phone from the counter, and hopped onto the sofa. "Mr Mildew? I'm sorry for this interruption. Now, I'm all yours again. So, what was it exactly that bothered you about that sketch?"

Hiccup watched her with a fond smile, then went to change into more comfortable clothes. When he returned to the living room, she was still sitting on the sofa, her head dropped back, and an unnerved expression on her face. Her replies to the seemingly endless stream of instructions coming from her phone had become noticeably monosyllabically, consisting only of short hums and monotonous yeses. A small grin crept across Hiccup's face, and he decided to distract her a bit, to put her professionalism to the test.

Quietly, he stepped closer and crouched down on the ground behind the sofa. She hadn't noticed him so far, and jumped a little when his hands began to play with her hair that hung in long golden waves down the backrest.

Lately, she almost always wore her hair down while they were home. It was something she hadn't done before, and it had taken her days to notice, and to realise why. And her explanation had made his heart sing. To her, her tightly braided hair represented some kind of mental wall, a shield. Only rarely had she felt comfortable and safe enough to let her hair down, during sex with those random guys the met in the club or in general. Eret had never seen her with her hair down, while she'd never thought twice about it when with Hiccup. This knowledge gave him a weird kind of satisfaction. Hiccup hated the other man with a passion, for everything he'd done to Astrid, for tricking her, and for hurting her when she was so vulnerable. Which had been his fault, and Hiccup would happily spend his lifetime making it up to her.

Slowly, he worked his way through her tresses, combing his fingers through them, and entangling them. Every now and then, his slight pulling on single strands made her hum in pleasure, sounds that, so far, mixed perfectly with her replies on the phone.

He went a step further, lifted his hands up to massage her scalp, fingernails lightly scraping over sensitive skin. Astrid shivered and fidgeted when he didn't stop. Her eyes were closed now, a small smile on her lips, and Hiccup doubted she was listening closely to Mr Mildew's explanations anymore.

With a cheeky grin, he brushed her hair aside, and brought his mouth toward the soft skin at her neck. His light kisses and nibbles left her whimpering quietly until, after a few minutes, he bit down into her shoulder. An urgent moan tore itself from her throat, one that startled her and made her clutch a hand over her mouth in shock.

Chuckling, Hiccup got back on his feet, and grinned at the incredulous look she threw him past her phone.

"N- no, I'm sorry, Mr Mildew," she said hastily. "Yes, I'm listening. I just... got cramps. Yeah, cramps, in my arm. Guess I need to move it more, maybe throw a few punches later or something." As she spoke, her gaze met his across the room, her eyes gleaming dangerously.

Unashamedly, Hiccup grinned back at her, and then unpacked his shopping. It wasn't much, just some ingredients for dinner. Getting them had been a spontaneous decision, a way to celebrate this day. One month might not be that long in terms of relationships, but, without a doubt, it had been the happiest month of his life.

He went about grating the different types of cheese – Gouda, Mozzarella, Cheddar, Brie, Parmesan, Swiss, Munster, and Monterey Jack – while listening with half an ear to Astrid's call. This particular client had been bothering her for almost a week now, and from the little Hiccup got his requests were pretty weird indeed. What was that about a sheep and... a bed? Hiccup frowned, but then shrugged, and turned his focus back to the task at hand.

Once Astrid was done with her phone call, she came over to keep him company. She grabbed the bowl with the freshly grated cheese while he was busy getting out the large pasta pot and filling it with water, then lifted herself up onto one of the counters nearby to curiously watch him work.

"Mmh, to what do I owe the pleasure of you making Mac and Cheese for me?" she asked, tossing a bit of cheese into her mouth. "It's still two weeks until my birthday. Or is that supposed to be a bribe so you don't get punched after all? Because it works."

Smirking at her words, Hiccup reached past her for the salt and oil, not missing his chance to caress her rear and bare thighs. "Well, it's... been a while since the last time I made it," he replied, frowning slightly. He didn't like remembering that day. "And I thought today would be a good day to create some new memories. Good ones over the bad. Also, it's been a month... And it's Wednesday, we could return to old habits. You know, squish in a film night. Unless you need to finish those sketches for this impatient customer."

The last words, he said with a twinkle in his eyes, even though they, too, belonged to that day. But dwelling on bad memories wouldn't do them any good, they both agreed on that. Instead, they were intent on drawing them back out again and repainting them with brighter colours.

Astrid smiled despite the hint of pain in her eyes. She didn't like to remember that day either. "That sounds like a great idea. And no, I don't need to finish those tonight. A film night would be great," she replied, stealing more cheese, and smirked at his scowl.

"You know, the more you eat now, the less will be in your dinner later," he pointed out good-humouredly, not mentioning that he'd bought more cheese than necessary anyway. He had expected her to swipe a bit after all. "But what was it our dear Mr Mildew asked for? Does he really want an erotic picture of a sheep in a bed?"

Astrid choked on the last bit of cheese as his joking words made her laugh. "Quite possibly," she wheezed. "At first it sounded like a metaphor. You know, something along the line of 'sleeping innocence'. But by now, I'm not so sure anymore. It does sound like that's what he's after. Weirdo. And he actually wants it to look like a real sheep. Not the usual furry-kink style with a humanised sheep-girl. Wouldn't be the first time we drew those, after all. Although, I still don't see what's so special about animals in bed."

"Oh, I don't know," he said with a grin, interrupted his preparations for now, and walked over to where she sat. Standing between her legs, he wrapped his arms around her waist, and leaned closer. "I quite like the lioness that's occupying my bed lately," he whispered into her ear.

She chuckled as his breath tickled on her neck, and wound her arms around his torso. "Miaow," she breathed, and lightly scraped her fingernails over his back, just where her marks on him were beneath his shirt.

Hiccup shuddered and growled, head spinning by how quickly the atmosphere between them had shifted. Again! Gods, how he loved being with her, every aspect of it. He retreated, just enough to look her in the eyes, and saw the same spark of desire in them which had flared up inside him.

She pushed one hand up into his hair, pulling him into a deep kiss that hid nothing of her hunger, and he responded eagerly.

Kissing her was his personal drug; simply just too intoxicating to not respond to it. His eyes fluttered shut, and, in a way, it hurt not to look at her. But at the same time, not being able to see increased the sensibility of his other senses which made it perfectly bearable. All those sensations were overwhelming.

Her heat pouring into him, and the sensation of her soft lips moving with his...

The sweet taste of those lips, of salty cheese on her tongue, of her...

Her scent in each breath he managed to inhale in-between...

And her small noises which filled the air around them...

Oh, her noises...

Her desperate gasps for air...

Her low whimpers before she pulled him closer...

Her gentle sighs while she buried her hand in his hair...

Her small moans when he held her as tightly as he dared...

Her soft keening as their bodies pressed against each other...

Hiccup was losing himself in her careful noises – and he actually had before, frequently. He had no idea how long this kiss lasted already. It could have been only seconds or several hours. He didn't know, but he also didn't care.

As always, Hiccup lost track of everything as he kissed Astrid. All he was aware of was her tongue sliding along his, her small gasps and whimpers, her hand clutching at his back and hair, pulling him in, and their bodies grinding against each other with persistence. His fingers were entangled in her long golden tresses, his fingertips scraping over her scalp, and he could feel her tremble and twitch every time he hit a sensitive spot. He could go on like this forever. Or so he thought...

"Did you get the same message I did?" she asked with bated breath after finally tearing herself away from his lips. Suggestively, she let one hand glide down his front. "The clearance?"

"Yes." His voice was hoarse with want, his cock already straining against the fabric of his boxers. The hiccupy breath she took at his answer didn't exactly let him soften either.

Her hand slid beneath his waistband without further hesitation. She moaned softly when she found him hard already from their heated kisses, and pushed down his trousers to fully expose him.

"Here?" he asked, a little breathless. She nodded, and he pushed her short skirt up – to find her bare beneath already. With a low growl, he let his hand drift over her exposed sex, slick and wet, already ready for him.

Astrid shifted closer toward the counter's edge, and wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, drawing him in.

For just a second, he paused, hesitated, drew the moment out a little bit longer. He watched the anticipation flare up high in her eyes, mirroring his own feelings, before, finally, pushing into her.

"Oh, Gods..." he whimpered at the overwhelming sensation. Being inside her was always wonderful, but this... The physical sensation of, finally, actually, feeling her, skin on skin, was intense. The emotional aspect though...

There were no boundaries between them anymore, nothing that separated them, and it was amazing. They were one.

"Hic–" she gasped, rolling her hips to get him moving, and he complied.

He pushed into her, slowly at first, but quickly going faster and faster. His hand were on her rear, pulling her toward him in time with every one of his thrusts. Her urgent little noises spurred him on, and it took only minutes until they were both high, until Hiccup reached for her clit to push her over the edge completely. Mesmerised, he watched her eyelids flutter, listened to her crying out his name, and felt her clenching tightly around him, rippling along his length until he came as well, buried deep inside her, filling her.

Trembling and panting, they floated down from their mutual peak, leaning against one another, and basked in their closeness. He felt himself soften, but for once, there was no need to pull out, no risk of losing the condom. He held her tenderly, cradling her against his chest, as if to never ever let her go again.

Astrid giggled, and her hand fluttered down to her stomach. "I can feel you," she whispered, grinning. "All bubbly and... and..." she shrugged, giggling some more, and he couldn't help his lips twitching as well.

"And I can feel you, too," he replied equally low. "All these little aftershocks–" he broke off as one of those rippled through her, squeezing him almost playfully, and they chuckled in unison.

"I love you, Astrid," he finally murmured, and kissed her sweetly. "Gods, I do..."

"Mmmmh, I love you, too," she hummed happily, nuzzling his neck.

"But now... Could you hand me the kitchen towels? I feel a bit leaky." She winked at him, and Hiccup snorted, but complied.

They cleaned up, themselves and the kitchen counter, before resuming their former tasks – cooking on Hiccup's part, and Astrid returned to the sofa to retrieve her discarded briefs.

For a while, they worked in companionable silence. It was so easy, so effortless. There was no need to fill every minute with meaningless chatter, no need to always do something together. It was enough to simply be together, to know the other one would be there if needed.

Hiccup could hear Astrid humming to herself while she worked, and it harmonized perfectly with the noises the boiling water made as he grated the rest of the cheese. It was the perfect background music as he added the butter, evaporated milk, and sour cream to the cooked pasta, seasoned the mixture, and then carefully added cheese and water until the creaminess was how Astrid liked it best.

"Okay, dinner is ready," he called over to her, and grinned as she scrambled off the sofa in a hurry.

Eating dinner went about just as easy and comfortable as everything else. They joked and teased one another, and talked about simple daily things like bike maintenance and an upcoming collaboration. Astrid ribbed him a bit by stating that his Mac and Cheese alone was worth staying with him forever, and Hiccup accidentally dropped some pasta on her top while playfully feeding her with his spoon – and greatly enjoyed how she finished her meal topless.

Afterwards, they cleaned up the kitchen together – which turned into more of a water fight than actual cleaning – before they settled in for their film night, both of them dressed in fresh clothes after tossing their soaked outfits into the laundry to dry.

"And what did you have in mind?" Astrid asked as she placed two glasses with fruity lemonade and a bowl of nuts on the coffee table. "After cooking for me, it's your choice today. Although, I'm always up for Doctor Who, as you know. How about The End Of Time? Donna is awesome as half a Doctor, and I love the bittersweet ending."

Hiccup looked at her thoughtfully, and, for a moment, actually considered it. But comforting her through the inevitable tears at the end was not how he wanted this day to end. Then he grinned as he remembered something else.

"No, I have another idea," he countered. "Make yourself comfortable, while I get the Blu Ray from my room."

"What's it doing in your room?" she called after him as he left the living room.

"I... ahm... couldn't stand it lying around here when I bought it," he called back. "And then I forgot that I bought it."

"What is it?" she replied, looking up at him as he returned.

But instead of an answer, he just stared at her. His heart made a painful thud when he saw her lying on the sofa, on that sofa, the one neither of them had even sat on in nearly two months. The memory of the last time she'd sat there rose in his mind, and it made him feel ill. Her eyes met his, and she gave him a cautious smile.

"Good memories over bad ones, right?" she reminded him quietly, and, after a moment's hesitation, he nodded. Slowly, he walked over to her, legs still a bit shaky.

"So, what film do you have there?" she asked in a clear attempt to change the subject.

Hiccup shook off the bad feeling the memory had triggered, and returned to the here and now. She was right, after all. No dwelling on bad memories.

With a small smile, he held out the case of Thor: Ragnarok to her. "I've heard this is a good one. No idea if it's true though, I didn't notice much of the film when I went to watch it."

A wide grin spread across her face. "Perfect!" she exclaimed, beaming.

He plugged it in, and then climbed over her to lie behind her on the comfortable sofa. It felt good to wrap his arm around her waist, to pull her closer against his chest, and to inhale the scent of her hair with every breath he took as the TV flickered to life and Marvel's starting theme played out. It felt good enough to not constantly think about how Eret had been in exactly this position before, during that other film night. And it felt good enough for him to decide that it didn't matter anyway.

It didn't matter what Eret or Heather had done. Not that particular event and nothing else either. All that mattered was that he and Astrid were together now, and that they would do whatever felt good and right, without letting any past events influence them.

It felt good to hold her, to feel her. She was warm and soft and everything he needed. Funny, and witty, and loving, and, oh, so wonderful. He leaned down to place another kiss on her hair, and felt her relax in his arms.

For a while, they simply watched the film, cuddling comfortably. His hand moved over her, slowly and innocently at first, caressing her waist and wandering down to her belly button. She shook with silent giggling as his touch tickled her, her vibrating body against his distracting him.

Without really intending to, his hand wandered on, up her arm, over her shoulder, and brushed her hair aside so he could place light kisses on her soft skin. Humming contently, she rolled her head to the side to give him better access, and leaned back against him until her cute ass pressed against his groin.

Hiccup inhaled sharply as he realised where they were going, but was far from complaining. This, too, had been one of his fantasies, after all. Smirking to himself, he kept his mouth on her neck, nibbling and licking teasingly, while his hand drifted onwards to her breasts, kneading them carefully and pinching her hardening nipples through her fresh shirt. Then he wandered down further still, over her taut stomach, and down between her legs.

Astrid was writhing beneath his touch by now, taking in short and panting breaths. After turning the volume of the TV down, she'd turned to look up at him through clouded eyes, and Hiccup couldn't look away from her.

And he didn't need to, either.

His fingers knew what to do, even without him seeing it. Slowly, they glided over the fabric of her briefs with just enough pressure to let her feel him. Then they teased her further, rubbing her clit through the thin lace, pressing between her folds. When he pushed the fabric aside to really touch her, she moaned and strained toward his touch, needing it, needing more.

But he wanted to take his time. He wanted to lazily play with her body, and watch her twist and tremble. There was no hurry, no hunger for relief, just the simple pleasure of the moment. She was so beautiful like this, hands clenching at his shirt and the cushions below.

When he pushed his fingers into her, first one, then a second, her back arched into his touch, and he watched in rapture as she fought to keep her eyes on him. It didn't take much from there, just a little crooking of his fingers, a little rubbing of his thumb over her clit, until her quivering body became stiff for a second, only to wildly thrash and spasm a moment later. Her orgasm came with a beautifully sinful moan as her eyes rolled back into her head, and then fluttered shut in bliss.

He would never... never... never get enough of her.

"Mhhh, yeah," Astrid hummed lazily after regaining her senses. "Definitely a good memory." She gazed up at him with a dreamy look on her face that spoke of love and happiness. Then she whispered, "Come here, you," and pulled him down to kiss him.

Hiccup adjusted his position in an attempt not to crush her beneath him. He'd meant to let his hand, that still rested over her sex, glide down to prop himself up on the sofa as her surprisingly swift move left him with few other options. He'd not meant for his slick fingers to virtually stick to her skin and glide over her ass instead.

Astrid's low groan and the realisation of where exactly he was touching her drained his face of all blood. "I-I'm sorry," he sputtered, pulling his hand back in a hurry – only to let it glide again over that taut circular muscle! "Shit! Ah... sorry, I... I didn't mean..."

His stammered apology got interrupted by her light chuckle, and Hiccup hoped that his slip-up hadn't angered her in any way.

"Why are you sorry?" she asked drowsily.

He swallowed, hastily drew his hand away from her, and sat up straight. "I didn't... didn't mean to touch you... there. I mean... I know that... that..."

"That what?" she continued when he lost himself in his sputtering, and looked up at him curiously. Then light dawned in her eyes. She relaxed back into the cushions, and, with a small smile on her lips, said, "Ah, don't worry. I don't mind. It's been a while since I had anal sex anyway. I'm more than up for it."

She was joking, right? Teasing him as a punishment for his slip-up? Yeah, that had to be it. Hiccup's vision swam out of focus as the image of him sinking into her pert ass rose in his mind. Hastily, he chased it away, aware of how his cock twitched eagerly at the idea. She hadn't been serious. She couldn't have been.

"Hah, funny," he said shakily, and reached for his glass on the coffee table with a trembling hand. "I'm really sorry, okay? Won't happen again, I promise."

Astrid's quiet chuckling was a bit disconcerting.

"Too bad," she hummed. "But if you don't want to, that's alright."

He threw her a measuring look. She sounded serious. But that couldn't be true, right?

"You... you can stop joking now, Astrid," he stammered as more images appeared behind his eyes. But he didn't even dare to actually imagine... that would... she would kill him!

"I'm not joking."

"Astrid," he pleaded. "It's alright, I learned my lesson. I know that... that women don't like anal sex. And I would... I would never ask for something you don't want to do."

She gave him a long measuring look before sitting up as well. "Hiccup... I do like it," she said earnestly. "It just depends on enough prep and lube." She shrugged offhandedly, and reached for her glass as well.

. o O o .

Smiling inwardly, Astrid sipped at her lemonade. Hiccup was simply too good to be true.

Most men she'd been with hadn't even hesitated for a second whenever she'd indicated she would be up for anal sex.

But Hiccup? No, he was different, of course, he was. She'd blatantly offered it to him, and he still wouldn't go for it out of fear she wouldn't like it. And he clearly wasn't averse to anal sex, either. On the contrary. She'd seen how his cock had grown and twitched at the mere mentioning.

Carefully, she glanced back at him. He sat still, his glass in one hand, the other one opening and closing absentmindedly. He had a strange look on his flushed face, a mixture of lust and curiosity, but also worry and nervousness.

After taking his glass out of his hand and placing both back on the table, she crawled onto his lap to straddle him.

"I really mean it," she murmured into his ear. "I'm more than up to it if you want to."

Hiccup gave a weird strangled noise, and placed his hands on her waist, but only to remove them a second later again. She could feel his cock beneath her, straining against his jogging trousers. Why was he so reluctant if he clearly wanted it?

Then an idea occurred to her, and she retreated to look at him again.

"You've had anal sex before, right?" she asked, incredulously. Surely, he had. He was Hiccup Haddock! He'd literally had sex with hundreds of girls. Surely, he-

"No, I haven't," he replied, voice barely more than a whisper. Biting his lip, he looked away, almost as if he was... embarrassed? "I... I didn't want to pressure them for anything that, surely, they wouldn't want to do. And I've never been with one of them long enough to figure out what else she might like. And..." he swallowed, frowning. "And Heather made pretty clear what she'd do if I ever dared to venture into that direction." He grimaced, though whether due to the reminder of Heather or what she'd threatened him with, Astrid couldn't tell.

With a small smile tugging at her lips, she reached for his hands and placed them back on her waist before leaning in to brush her lips against his.

"Well, I'm not Heather," she teasingly mumbled against his mouth, and it had the desired effect.

Hiccup chuckled and relaxed, holding her more firmly again. "No, you're most definitely not," he agreed, but then paused. "Does it... bother you? That I'm not as... as experienced in that area? I mean, I... I'd love to try, but..." Helplessly, he lifted his shoulders only to let them slump down again. Gods, he was so adorable.

"No, it doesn't bother me," she whispered, dropping her head to avert her eyes "It... it means I can be your first. I–" she took a deep breath as the full meaning of those words hit her. "I... didn't expect that. But I like it," she added, chuckling weakly.

Hiccup chimed in a moment later, nuzzling into her neck. "My first, my last, my one and only," he mumbled, making her giggle even more.

"So, do you want to try?" she asked after they'd calmed down again, feeling like he wouldn't approach that topic on his own again.

And sure enough, he started to fidget nervously right away. "Now?" he asked, his voice noticeably higher than usual.

Astrid fought not to chuckle or even grin at that. He was nervous, no point in teasing him further. "Sure, why not?" she asked as casually as she could. "I'm already fairly relaxed, and as far as I can tell, you're definitely hard enough." Okay, maybe a little teasing was acceptable...

"Yeah, I guess so," he replied with a shaky laughter, his hands running distractedly up and down her sides. "So... erm... what do you... ah... need me to do?"

"Mmhh... we need lube. And a condom wouldn't hurt either. We should have a few spare now, I think. Mind getting those? I have lube in my bedside table, second drawer, back left corner. Oh, and some baby wipes?"

The speed with which Hiccup lifted her off his lap and disappeared into the hallway that led to her room was honestly hilarious. Astrid had to bit her lip pretty hard as not to laugh out loud at his eagerness. He was back in record time, eyes gleaming in anticipation.

"Okay, what now?" he asked after they'd both stripped and were settled on the sofa again.

"Now, I need a little prep," she said, smirking at his member standing at full attention. "I won't be able to take you without."

She lay back, and showed him how to do it, how to massage her sphincter muscle until it permitted first one lubricated finger and then more. She let him try, and quickly began to enjoy the feeling of him fingering her open. Yes, she had long since learned to enjoy this kind of treatment, but having Hiccup doing it still felt so much better.

"Okay, that's enough," she gasped when he had three fingers easily wiggled into her.

He seemed mesmerised, and barely even registered her words, his dilated eyes glued to her body and how it was able to stretch.

"Hiccup?" she addressed him more directly, and, finally, he reacted.

"Mmmh?" came his distracted answer as he absentmindedly reached for a baby wipe to clean his hand. But at least his gaze returned to her face, if a little clouded.

Astrid sat up, and drew him into a deep kiss. She'd meant to distract him, to ease his nervousness, but it rather served to throw them both off track for a bit. His heavy body pressed her down into the cushions as he lay above her, barely remembering to support himself as he kissed her hungrily. He was all hands ravaging her hair and tongue ravaging her mouth, all skin sliding over skin. She let her hands roam up his back, searching and finding the scratches she'd marked him with, and he growled as her fingers brushed over them. A second later, his mouth was on her neck, biting and sucking, and she arched up against him in response. Gods, she needed to have him inside her, and soon.

"What now?" he growled against her skin. He sounded so eager, and yet he still gave her the lead.

"Condom. And more lube," Astrid replied, panting, her arousal betraying her own eagerness as well.

. o O o .

Hiccup followed every single one of Astrid's instructions. He still could barely believe that she actually wanted to do this, but he trusted her. He trusted her that she wouldn't do anything like this just for his sake alone.

With practised ease, he sheathed his cock, and whined needily when Astrid applied bounteous amounts of lube to both him and herself at the same time. This was really happening!

Then she turned, forearms resting on the sofa's backrest, and butt invitingly pointing in his direction.

"Like this?" he asked a little confused, but kneeled down between her legs nonetheless. He'd wanted to see her face, see her reactions, whether he hurt her or anything. As much as he was looking forward to this, he didn't want to hurt her.

"Yeah, it'll be easier that way," she replied, pushing back against his cock. "Just... stay still for a moment, okay? Let me..." she trailed off as his tip brushed over her hole, and they both gasped.

Ohgodsohgodsohgods, was all Hiccup was able to think as she slowly pushed back against him. Without much resistance, his tip slipped inside her, and his mind went utterly blank. She pushed further, and he watched himself sink into her, unable to come up with a single coherent thought.

"So tight..." he whimpered when her cheeks were pressed against his stomach, a sound that Astrid mimicked.

"Mmh... big..."

With shaking fingers, he reached for her, rubbing her back and holding her hips. He fought to further keep still, even though all he wanted was to move, to fuck into her soft and hot body. But he would be good, would wait for her to go on.

It took her a few seconds, seconds in which she twitched and clenched around his cock, seconds during which he thought he might go insane at any moment. But then she stirred, carefully pulling away, only to push back on him again. The movement elicited a moan from them both, and her head dropped down on her arms.

"Okay," she gasped, "Your turn. Just... go slowly at first, okay? It's been a while..."

Hiccup whimpered again, and nodded, forgetting that she couldn't see that. He grabbed her hips tighter, took a shaky breath, and began to move.

It felt weird, different. Slick with all the lube, so tight, so fucking tight, and hot as Hel. He pushed in and out of her, hesitantly, and tried to concentrate on being as gentle as he could be.

Astrid squirmed beneath is hands, trembled and twitched. Then she suddenly pushed back against him, just as he was about to push back in, making his thrust much harder than planned. She groaned loudly, and Hiccup stilled immediately.

"S-Sorry," he gasped. "Did... did I hurt you?"

Astrid, her face buried in the crook of her arm, shook her head. "No," she whimpered. "Didn't hurt... just... Gods..." She shivered, muscles clenching around him.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, worried. He let his hands glide up her smooth back in an attempt to distract them both.

"No!" came her urgent reply. "No, don't stop. Gods, no. Please–" she broke off, voice caught in her throat as she began to move on her own again.

And Hiccup understood.

She'd been serious.

She liked it.

He began to move again, carefully pushing into her tight channel, and her answering moans and whimpers were all the reassurance he needed. Soon, he became more confident, moved with more purpose, became a little faster, thrust a little harder, when her reactions kept spurring him on.

"Gods, Hiccup. Harder!" she begged, voice rough and needy.

Groaning, he complied, went harder, and faster, and harder still when she kept begging for more. Gods, she never got vocal like this. Soon, he was covered in sweat, and panting heavily. He fought not to come too early, to drag it out for her as long as possible, but it was hard. Thor almighty, she felt so good.

"Fuck... Astrid, I... nng... I..." he growled, vision blurring. He was close, so close to losing it. Only a few more thrusts, he wouldn't be able to hold out any longer. Her moans grew in volume, and somehow she seemed to tighten even more around him. It felt like she was choking him, sucking him in even deeper, and it was too much for him.

"Gods, yes! Aahh- Astrid! I... Fuck!" Hiccup shouted as he came, buried deep inside her. Her lustful noises carried him through his height and down afterwards. He tried to go on, as she wasn't done yet. But he softened too quickly, utterly spent after she'd milked him so thoroughly.

"Mmmhh, sorry," he mumbled against her back, embarrassed, and yet still stunned by the intense experience. Carefully, he pulled off the condom and wrapped it into a baby wipe, before slumping down onto the sofa. Mixed feelings crept up in his heart as Astrid snuggled into his side. For him, it had been great, but for her... he hadn't been good enough for her.

"Don't be sorry," she sighed happily. "That was fantastic, even better than I remembered. Or maybe it was just because it was finally you," she added, sounding thoughtful and completely serious.

For a while, Hiccup didn't reply. His arm lay limply over her shoulder, but he didn't dare to touch her further, and he wasn't sure what to do. "But you didn't come," he finally stated, eyes cast down. Sure, this had been his first anal sex, and he obviously had no experience there. And they didn't always climax together, and he could easily get her off otherwise. But still... No matter how much logic he applied, the nagging feeling wouldn't go away.

Not until Astrid chuckled quietly at his side.

"I never do from this," she murmured sleepily against his skin.

Hiccup frowned, and tried to make any rhyme or reason of her words, but finally gave up. "But you said you like anal sex. And now you say you can't come from it? That... that doesn't make much sense."

She sat up to look at him, probably finally sensing his mood. She smiled softly, and leaned in to peck his lips, before she explained, "It feels amazing. Not sure if you noticed, but I really enjoyed it. And I don't need an orgasm for this to feel good. I came before already, that's enough. For now, at least."

He gave her a long, scrutinising look, but then nodded. "You could have said that before, you know?" he pouted. Her explanation was enough for him. She had enjoyed it, that much had been obvious after all. But he didn't want to let her off the hook that easily.

But Astrid didn't fall for it.

"I could have," she grinned. "But that would have made you only even more reluctant. Now, you believe me at least." She cuddled back against his chest, and this time, he took her into his arms properly.

For a couple of minutes, they simply sat there, quietly basking in the afterglow, before Astrid pushed herself up on wobbly legs. It looked almost comically as she stumbled toward the bathroom, as if her legs weren't working right anymore.

"When did you get so drunk?" he asked teasingly as she returned in the same manner. It really looked funny.

But Astrid just poked her tongue out in reaction, and slumped back onto the sofa. "Very funny," she stated flatly, smirking at him good-humouredly. "Get used to it, that's how I'll be walking for the rest of the day. And tomorrow, too, probably. Your fault entirely!"

Sobering up in an instant again, Hiccup pushed himself up to give her a serious look. "Did I hurt you after all?" he asked anxiously. "Gods, Astrid, you should have stopped me. I didn't want to hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "It's just because of all those loosened-up muscles. I won't be able to walk straight for a day or so. And I won't be able to sit without my butt stinging for a couple more days, but that's alright."

"Astrid," he began, worried, but she interrupted him directly.

"It's fine, Hiccup! It's just a bruise. Every time I sit down my butt will sting, and I'll remember this amazing hot sex we had. And, damn, did you fuck me good!" she said dreamily. Then she awkwardly climbed onto his lap, facing him, and wound her arms around his neck. Her hands lightly caressed the almost completely healed scratches she'd left on his back over a week ago. "It's like these, sweet little reminders. Just funnier, for you at least." She grimaced, but he could see the amused glint in her eyes.

"Alright," he accepted her explanation. But she would have to live with getting pampered for a few days, he decided. Just to make it up to her.

Smiling warmly, she leaned in and kissed him. Maybe it was simply meant as a short peck, but it ended in a long and intense liplock, one of those where neither noticed the passing of time anymore.

What finally tore them out of enjoying each other was the music.

"I swear, if that menu theme plays even one more time, I'm going to throw the Blu Ray player out of the window," Astrid mumbled, voice saturated by humour despite her unnerved words.

"Totally understandable," Hiccup agreed. "Another thing though... have you noticed anything about the film? Because... I haven't," he added, grinning.

"No, me neither," she replied, giggling. "I guess we'll need to watch it again. How awful..."

"Mmmh, horrible," he chimed in, but then became serious again, if a little corny maybe. "I'd watch it a thousand times with you. And maybe, we'll even make it through it one day."

"Oh, I plan to accomplish that today," she said, sounding quite determined, and reached for the remote controller.

"Maybe we should skip the first twenty minutes or so, though," he mused. "You know, to turn the odds in our favour." They shared a look, and then simultaneously shook their heads.

"No, those are too fantastic already," Astrid giggled. "I want to see Thor sassing out Surtur while dangling on that chain again. And Loki falling for thirty minutes. We can't miss that!"

They made themselves comfortable on the sofa again, cuddled together under one of their soft blankets, and started the film again.

And this time, they actually managed to watch it all.

Okay, I hope this was enough in forms of compensation for the previous two chapters ;)

It also was the last of the epilogues I planned to write. There are at least two more I want to write from your prompts, namely the handcuff-story and ten years later. But I'm not sure when I'm going to write those, as I want to focus more on my next project from now on. Stay tuned ;)