#make sure to contact anyone you can about this

[navybrat817]

Knock You Down a Peg or Two

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Someone learns the hard way that it's a bad idea to upset Bucky's wife.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Established relationship, violent threats (not against the reader), protective vibes, implied sexy times, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I'm in a mood, lovelies. We can consider this in the same universe as Mr. and Mrs. Barnes and Handsome and Beautiful. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky was no longer the Winter Soldier. He told himself every day he wasn't a cold killer anymore. He did his best to make amends and worked hard to clear his name. From time to time though, people pushed his buttons and got under his skin. You helped him brush it off. Their opinions didn't matter at the end of the day, only yours.

You mattered to him more than anything else. So, if someone bothers him, yeah, he could let it go. Someone upsetting you? He wouldn't stand for it.

Bucky's eyes narrowed as he spotted the little weasel sitting at the table in the break room alone. A few hours ago, you called him to vent about how this guy repeatedly tried to make you look bad in front of your superior during a meeting. It wasn’t the first time either. Your tears of frustration were obvious by your tone on the other end, though you tried to hide them. You worked hard, harder than anyone else he knew, and you took your job seriously.

He saw red when he heard you sniffle and it was the only color he had seen since then.

“Give me his name.”

“Bucky, no,” you had argued. “The guy’s a prick and I just needed to vent, so you don’t-”

“Please, baby,” he whispered, knowing full well you could handle yourself, but you were his wife and someone took joy out of your day. Not just that, they made you cry. He took this personally and he wanted to defend you. “Just give me his name so I can take care of it.”

You softly gave him the name, and he made it a priority to find the asshole. It didn’t take him long. No one even questioned why he was asking. It must’ve been his “murder strut” and glare. You once said it could break even the strongest of people.

He headed toward the empty chair beside the agent, careful not to make a sound. His stealth assisted with that. Once he reached the chair though, he made it a point to scrap the chair across the floor to get the prick's attention. The annoyance in his eyes quickly shifted to fear when he realized who he was looking at.

Good. He hoped he pissed his pants.

He made a show of slipping off his leather jacket before taking a seat, making sure the agent got a good look at his metal arm. He also made a show of getting one of his knives out, one you gifted him. “I think we can skip the introductions since you know who I am and I really don't give a shit who you are,” he began, his voice low as he twirled the knife between his fingers. “But I understand you know my wife and, well, she’s the reason I’m here.”

The guy blinked when Bucky made eye contact, the blade still expertly weaving in his hand. “S-Sure. Everyone knows your wife.”

Bucky smiled softly, taking a second to glance at his wedding band. “I’m usually not one to brag, but I can’t help it when it comes to her. She works hard and deserves all the praise she gets, but she’s still humble. Appreciative. Loyal,” he boasted, still smiling before he glared again. “She’d never throw anyone under the bus, especially in front of a superior.”

The little weasel cleared his throat, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair. He seemed to notice for the first time that they were the only two people there. “Look, I don’t know what your wife said, but-”

Bucky pointed the blade at him. “I would think very carefully about what comes out of your mouth next,” he snarled, his eyes as cold as ice.

There was a beat of silence as the guy squirmed in his seat and averted his gaze. Bucky wished you were there to see it. And Steve and Sam. “I may have run my mouth a bit. I just wanted to knock her down a peg or two, you know? She keeps getting promoted and…” he swallowed when Bucky’s eyes narrowed to slits. If this fucker even thought about implying that you slept your way to get where you were today, he may actually cut his throat. “Please, don't kill me.”

The silence after that statement may have been uncomfortable for some, but Bucky didn’t break a sweat. No, he was just thinking of all the different ways he could put him in the hospital for even thinking he had a right to put you down. Putting the knife away, he slowly got to his feet. “Get up,” he said quietly, flexing his hands in intimidation.

“Fuck.” The man nearly knocked his chair over as he stood. “Listen, I’m sorry,” he blurted out, putting his hands out in front of him. “I’ll apologize to her first thing tomorrow, I swear.”

“You think that makes up for it? And are you sorry for trying to make her look bad or are you sorry that you’re under my radar now?” Bucky’s stare remained steady as he knocked his chair out of the way, the piece of furniture nearly splintering when it hit the wall. “Everyone knows what I'm capable of, but do you know what happens to people who upset. My. Wife?”

Bucky refused to say that you cried. The asshole might take that as a sign of victory and he wouldn’t give him any sort of win. He didn’t deserve it. He didn't deserve to be in the same space as you.

The guy’s mouth parted as he took a few steps back on shaky legs. “I-It won’t happen again! I swear!”

“No, it won't, but how about I cut your tongue out so you can’t run your mouth again? Maybe pull out your teeth, too?” Bucky knocked the table away next as he advanced. “Or how about your eyes so you won’t look at her either. Hell, I’ll settle for taking your arm. We’ll match.”

The man let out what sounded like a whimper, his teeth nearly chattering from his fear. Scaring people had given him nightmares, haunted him, but it fueled his fire when he terrified anyone in your honor. “I won’t bother her ever again! I’ll tell my boss she deserves another promotion! I'll transfer! You have my word! I’m sorry!”

Bucky laughed after a moment, a bitter, chilling sound before he held up a hand. “I’m just fucking with you.”

His eyes were still wide with fear. “W… What?”

“I was just trying to scare you a little. You should see the look on your face,” Bucky chuckled again, lightly smacking the guy’s cheek. “Listen, you don’t have to transfer and I’m not going to torture you. Just apologize to my girl and we’re good, okay?”

“Okay.” He let out a breath and chuckled, too. “You really won’t torture me?”

“No, I won’t,” he grinned, grabbing his shoulders. “But I will knock you down a peg or two.”

The prick didn’t see the headbutt coming, but he felt it before he hit the ground. Bucky knew he’d feel it in the morning, too. He got off lucky.

“You know, after you apologize to my wife, I hope you do stay so you can see her continue to thrive,” Bucky toed the guy’s body with his boot. “And speaking of, I need to go buy her some flowers, chocolate, and wine. She deserves it.”

Grabbing his jacket from the broken chair across the room and brushing it off, he whistled as he left the room. He waited until he was a good distance away to call. You picked up on the second ring.

“Hey.” You sounded much better than you did earlier. “So, what’s the damage?”

“Hey, baby,” he smiled. “I headbutted the prick. And before you ask, my head feels great.”

The former assassin may get suspended for that and damaging the table and chair, but he doubted the asshole would have the balls to speak up about what happened.

“Bucky…” you sighed. You were probably pinching the bridge of your nose. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“You’re gonna let me eat you for dessert when I get home,” he smirked. Not that he needed an excuse to dive between your legs, but he'd take any chance he had. “Figure I'll give you at least two orgasms before dinner.”

“Is that right, Mr. Barnes?”

“That is right, Mrs. Barnes.”

The sound of your giggle spread warmth through his chest. Your happiness was his happiness. “Better not keep me waiting,” you teased, pausing for a beat. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” he said. You always stuck up for him without question.

“Love you.”

His heart swelled more. “Love you, too.”

He’d have some more explaining to do once he got home and would probably have to pay for the damage he caused. He was also sure that you were plotting the demise of the man’s career and would tell him that he didn’t need to do anything, but he wanted to. He was no longer the Winter Soldier.

But he was your husband and he’d defend you with his life, no matter what.

Violence isn't the answer, but this is fanfiction and we all deserve a loving Bucky. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[swordandstars]

Friends!

Are you feeling hopeless in the face of the oncoming MAGA-pocalypse? Want to do something fast, easy, and free that will make a difference?

If you're in Michigan, keep reading! If you're not, signal boost this to your Mitten State Mutuals!

Michiganders, it's time to contact your state reps and tell them to vote YES on HB 6034 and HB 6035. Together, these two bills comprise the Freedom to Read Act and they severely limit the ability of assholes to ban books in the state of Michigan.

Want to read the bills for yourself? Click here:

https://www.legislature.mi.gov/Search/ExecuteSearch?sessions=2023-2024&docTypes=House%20Bill,Senate%20Bill&contentFullText=%22freedom%20to%20read%22

Tl;dr? Here's an article and video summarizing the Act from CBS News:

Not sure how to contact your Michigan state representatives? Text RESIST to 50409 and Resistbot will walk you through it.

It's easy, it takes about 5 minutes, and you can do it from your couch/bed/puddle of despair.

Tips for contacting elected officials:

1) If you're asking them to vote YES or NO on something, say that in the first line. Bonus points if you can tag the actual bill (HB/House Bill) number.

2) Only include ONE issue per communication.

3) 1&2 are because these are being skimmed by interns who keep a running tally of what each communication is about. One communication = one point.

3a) Don't be a dick to the interns. Their lives are hard enough.

4) Keep it short. One sentence very clearly stating what you want. One or two sentences about why they should care about what you want ("As a resident of your district, I know you agree that SOMETHING SOMETHING FREEDOM, SOMETHING SOMETHING LIBERTY, SOMETHING SOMETHING THINK OF THE CHILDREN.") Appeal to the person they claim to be in their campaign ads. Get it, give them clear instructions, get out.

5) No profanity.

6) No threats.

7) No memes/ slang/ sarcasm/ lols. You are cosplaying as someone who thinks salt is too spicy and whose greatest joy in life is sorting their collection of plain white socks.

8) 5, 6, & 7 are because anything you communicate to an elected official will become a matter of public record. It goes into a file. And if anyone ever pulls that file, you want to be on record as the most boring, conscientious, polite, non-threatening motherfucker who ever lived.

Now go forth and make your voice heard!

(Hey @unpretty and @official-michigan-posts, can you help get the word out?)

[hyunjiisa]

hey pretty boy !

skz ! members and what type of loner they’d be

incl. ot8 !

chan as the stoner! loner

shows up to school smelling like weed but no one cares because he does all his work and never causes trouble

you make eye contact with him for the first time in the parking lot while he’s smoking, he falls in love when you smile and wave

turns down everyone that hits on him after that

when he finally musters up the courage to talk to you all he can do is tap your shoulder in the same parking lot he first saw you and ask if you smoke

no matter your answer, he asks to get to know you better

“ come on , give me a chance ? ”

follows you around like a bodyguard after that

never ever lets you carry your own bag and always makes sure you have something to eat for lunch whether he has to pay for you or not

pretty smart in most subjects so you have study dates often because he just likes your presence

won’t smoke around you if you don’t like it

never posts anything besides you and aesthetic pictures he takes

isn’t the type to fight but he will if someone disrespects you, but they back off because of his size before it gets to that point

hyunjin as the artsy! loner

has one black pen and one red pen that he abuses every day

pays attention for the most part but occasionally gets distracted doodling in his notebooks

def has drawings all over his hands

the first time he noticed you was in art class and he thought you were so pretty he started drawing you

you glance over and he’s mortified when he realizes he probably looks like a creep

too nervous to go up to you and explain so he leaves you a note with little drawings all over (plus the drawing of you) and a replacement of the pink gel pen he notices you using all the time

gets super nervous when he sees you walking up to him the next day

you ask him to partner up for a project and thank him for the drawing

“ i couldn’t help it , you’re just so pretty . ”

ends up kissing you at your last project session

asks you out with the most thoughtful basket filled with things you like and a letter with another drawing of you and almost cries when you don’t answer right away

does everything for you after you get together

the art teacher is yalls biggest fan

has no one else to cling to so he’s all over you 24/7

gives nasty glares to men who simply look at you

felix as the fashion design! loner

like hyunjin, spends most of his time sketching out designs in his scrap book where he keeps all his miniature fabric samples in

sulks because there’s no fashion club for him to join

is initially drawn to you because of an outfit you wore that he loves

eventually asks where you got your top when you wear it again and his heartstrings pull at the way you answer so sweetly and compliment his hair

after that the two of you gradually got closer and closer

you help him learn to sew and he starts planning marriage then and there (he wants to help design your wedding dress)

sews matching patches on your backpacks

you catch him texting his best friend that lives abroad about you

gets so nervous he cries

you tell him you feel the same way and he cries even harder

“ be mine ? please ? ”

just gets even clingier once you end up together

loves kissing you and laying together while he sketches

takes you out whenever you want and spoils you rotten because he has rich parents

matching outfits = fire insta pics

jeongin as the sour patch! loner

never talks to anyone so everyone thinks he’s mean but he’s really an angel

your elective teacher makes your class do a secret santa and he gets you

he gives you oddly specific gifts (he has a massive crush on you and overhears you telling your friends your wishlist) and includes a note sweet talking you

you go up to him and thank him with a kiss on the cheek and he turns red

he asks you to hang out and pays for brunch and the cutest pottery painting date

“ will you go out with me ? n-not like that ! ”

gets the teacher to move you two to sit next to each other

everyone’s a little surprised when they see how he’s so gentle with you

decides he needs to get over himself and ask you out and gets you a pandora charm bracelet and a pretty bouquet of flowers

pampers you with your favorite snacks or meals randomly, refills of makeup you use, randomly does your homework for you

flips off ur exes and flexes on them when you aren’t looking then turns around to kiss you

is at your house 24/7 because he can’t breathe without you but is supportive when you go out with your friends or need a solo day

loves going to the beach with you and carrying you so your feet don’t get sandy

jisung as the nerdy! loner

has good grades and the teachers remember his name because his work is always on time

eats alone in the library because he has no one to sit with

you walk in on him while picking up a book you need and he’s super embarrassed (he’s had a crush on you since middle school)

you ask to sit with him because you think he’s cute and he trips over his words answering you

you spend lunch with him every day after that and he starts packing a lunch for you too

accidentally confesses he has a fat crush on you when you ask if he has a girlfriend

he starts rambling after and shuts up when he notices you’re giggling at him

you kiss him and he swears his lifelong dream has come true

“ i like , really like you . ”

is the sweetest boyfriend ever

does all your homework for you and insists it’s really no problem

drives you to and from school every day because “that’s what boyfriends are for”

never looks at anyone but you and writes down threats and shoves them in guys lockers when they hit on you

minho as the gym! loner

purposefully gets his free period after his weightlifting class so he can spend two periods working out

isn’t really shy, just doesn’t like anyone enough to have friends

girls check him out occasionally but he always ignores them

catches you freaking out when you have no clothes to change in and offers you his shirt because he thinks you’re cute

uses that as an excuse to mess with you

“ if i can bench you , you owe me a date ”

spoiler, he can.

makes sure to tell you you don’t really owe him anything and he’s just messing with you

you agree to the date and he picks you up and takes you on a surprisingly thoughtful date

drive around town, food and watching the sunset, takes your pictures next to pretty flowers and keeps his arm around you the whole time

asks you if you really have to go when he’s dropping you off

walks you to your door and gives you a hug (he’s never dated anyone and too scared to kiss you)

texts you that he had a really good time and he would “work to make you his”

it doesn’t take much work and he kisses you right after he asks you to be his

is way too proud of his build and wears sleeveless shirts just to scare anyone that looks at you

carries you around any chance he gets

seungmin as the music lover! loner

walks around with his headphones in 24/7

hums to himself quietly while he studies

you ask him about a song he was humming and he’s surprised you were talking to him

you think he hates you till he smiles at you when you walk into class

makes you a playlist to make his move on you

doesn’t know how to tell you he likes you at all so he just kinda teases you to flirt with you

takes you to a record store at lunch because he wanted to show you the spot

stares at you a little too hard so you ask him if he wants a kiss as a joke

says yes and moves your hair out of your face, you guys have a make out sesh and only stop when the owner clears his throat awkwardly at the both of you

“ so , if i ask you to be mine what are the chances of you saying yes ? ”

you make him go back inside alone and buy you the vinyl you want

he comes back out with it and 5 more that you didn’t wanna ask for but knows you wanted anyway

you skip the rest of the day and go to his house and use his record player

you fall asleep on him and he takes 0.5s of you

shares his headphones with you, but doesn’t share his food (until you make a sad face at him and he gives in instantly. works every time.)

changbin as the sweetheart! loner

all of his professors adore him, all the school staff does at this point

has the maximum hours of community service that he can have but won’t stop helping around where he can

notices you from the start because he thinks you’re pretty, but really starts liking you when he sees you volunteer at an elementary school

accidentally scares you coming up behind you when you’re hanging a banner

you guys start helping at the same places and make a tradition of hanging up banners together

after a while he figures he might as well just tell you how he feels, is elated when you hug him and tell him the feelings mutual

“ oh thank god . ”

confesses that he was actually really nervous and gets flustered when you tease him about it because he thinks you’re the prettiest

when you ask why he never hangs out with anyone he says he doesn’t like people with unpure hearts and that’s why he loves you so much

definitely takes you out and buys you guys matching stuff

married couple

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

a/n: i’m not pushing any of these narratives onto them, it’s just dif scenarios i wanted to write them in ᡣ𐭩

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 16

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15

Aside from bathroom breaks, Eddie doesn’t leave his room for two days. Friday bleeds into Saturday, bleeds into Sunday, and Eddie wallows in it. Wayne knows him well enough to not bother him, but Wayne also knows him well enough to barge into Eddie’s room Sunday morning without even knocking.

“Up, boy,” he says gruffly, turning Eddie’s overhead light on. “Your eggs are getting cold.”

Eddie groans, and tries to roll over to bury his face back into his pillow, but Wayne grabs him by the ankle and yanks until he goes tumbling out of the bed.

“Wayne!”

“I ain’t asking,” Wayne says, storming out of Eddie’s room without closing the door.

As is his right, Eddie whines and rolls around on his floor for a minute until he can finally find the will to get up. Clearly knowing that it would take Eddie a minute, Wayne’s just plating eggs and potatoes as Eddie walks into the kitchen, still clothed in only his boxers and the same shirt he’d been wearing when Carver’d kicked his ass on Thursday.

They settle across from each other at their dingy table, Wayne letting him get a few bites of breakfast in him before the interrogation he knows is coming begins.

“What happened?” Wayne asks, pushing his own plate away so he can focus on staring Eddie down.

Eddie swallows his bite of potatoes, throat suddenly dry. But, he wants to tell someone, he wants to tell Wayne, who, no matter how Eddie fucks up, is always in his corner.

“I’ve been getting these letters,” Eddie starts, using his fork to play with his food so he doesn’t have to meet his Uncle’s eyes as the whole sordid tale comes out.

He tells it like he experienced it: thinking it was a joke at first before getting wrapped up in the letters, finding out it was Chrissy, trying to connect the living, breathing girl to the words on the page.

And then, Harrington, strong and sure as he defended him from Carver, taking care of his wounds in the aftermath, lying to him for months until he couldn't get away with it anymore.

Wayne just listens without interruption while Eddie talks about Jeff’s betrayal, the fear in Chrissy’s eyes, the defeated slope of Harrington’s back as he’d walked out the door, going god knows where with his car still at the quarry where he’d left it.

When Eddie’s finally done, Wayne hums and pulls his now-cold food back in front of him, picks up his fork and starts to eat. Eddie watches him, gobsmacked.

“Wayne?” Eddie asks, moving his hand up and down in front of his Uncle’s eyes, checking to see if the old man can even still see him. “That’s all you’re going to say? Hmm, and then back to breakfast?”

Eddie scowls as he forks another potato into his mouth, chewing as he continues his tirade. “Where are your wise words, old man? Why the hell’d you even make me get up if this is all I was going to get?”

Wayne hums again, clearly just to piss Eddie off, then finally answers, “you needed to eat.”

Eddie stares at him, mouth hanging open half-masticated potatoes on full display for anyone to see. Not that anyone’s going to because Wayne’s gone back to polishing off his breakfast.

“That’s it?” Eddie demands, throwing his fork down in a huff.

Wayne sighs, like Eddie’s the one being unreasonable here and finally puts his fork down to meet his nephew’s eyes.

“Finish your breakfast, and we can talk.”

Eddie whines, but dutifully scarfs down his plate, never breaking eye contact with his uncle, like they’re in a stand-off. And in a way, they are.

Once done, Eddie tosses his fork across the room into the sink just to prove a point, leans across the table and glares at Wayne. Because he’s an asshole, Wayne takes another sip of his coffee, maintaining eye contact, before finally opening his mouth to speak.

“You like this boy?” Wayne asks.

Eddie sputters and stalls out. “You—I—what?” Eddie asks, fisting his hands into his greasy hair.

“It ain’t an unreasonable question,” he replies. “You’re talking about the kid like he’s a knight in one of those little games you like so much.”

“I—no I wasn’t!” Eddie cries, cheeks burning at the implication.

“Mmmhmm,” Wayne replies, eyebrow raised as he drinks more of his coffee like what he’s saying is of no importance at all.

“Wayne,” Eddie says, leaning over the table to clutch at his shoulders, ribs protesting at the pull. “I’m not gay.”

And that, out of everything, is what gets Wayne to put his mug back down and take Eddie seriously. “You ain’t?” Wayne asks, eyebrow raised. Eddie shakes his head, eyes wide. “You sure? There’s an awful lot of men in leather on your walls.”

Eddie squawks, sinking painfully back into his seat. “That’s Metallica.”

Wayne squints at him. “Is that one of them code words y’all use to stay safe?”

Eddie stands up, chair screeching against the linoleum floor. “It’s a band, Wayne!” Eddie cries, at a loss for what the fuck is happening. “I’m not gay!”

Wayne looks up at him, both eyebrows raised enough to scrunch up his forehead, wrinkling his mostly-bald head. “Well, alright then.”

Eddie stares at him, brain buzzing with even more questions than he’d had before. How long had Wayne thought he was gay? Why? What did he do?

Was he really okay with it?

Eddie turns on his heel and marches out of the kitchen and back to his bedroom without another word. He slams the door and collapses onto his bed, gut squirming with all the thoughts churning in his head.

*** 

Chrissy isn’t surprised when Eddie doesn’t come to school on Monday; she is surprised when Steve does. He’s got bags under his eyes and Robin Buckley super-glued to his side, but he’s still there.

She can’t help the way she runs into his arms, leaving Jeff behind without thought. Steve catches her—he always does, pushing his hands beneath his letterman jacket to grab at her waist and pull her in. They sway there in the middle of the hallway, all their classmates jeering around them.

Chrissy doesn’t care; she’s spent the entire weekend thinking about the crushed look in his eyes as he walked out of the Munson trailer without a backwards glance

“You’re okay?” she asks, face pressed into the soft fabric of his t-shirt.

He runs his hand up and down her back as he responds, “I will be.”

She pulls back to smile up at him and reaches up to brush a floppier-than-usual lock of hair behind his ear. “Walk me to class?”

He links their elbows, and does just that, Jeff and Robin falling into line behind them, Robin prattling on about some movie marathon her and Steve had had at her house over the weekend. 

Chrissy’s just glad he wasn’t alone.

Steve sighs, shoulders slumping as he says, “I’m sorry, Chris,” he says, not looking her way. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into my mess.”

She stops abruptly enough that Robin stumbles into them and bounces back, cutting off her stream of words mid-babble to squawk at them. Chrissy doesn’t acknowledge her, too busy standing on her tippy toes so she can grab Steve’s shoulders and yank him down to her level.

“You listen to me, Steve Harrington,” she demands, looking into his big, bewildered eyes. “Your mess is my mess, okay?”

He’s still just staring at her, eyes wide, mouth hanging open, so she digs her nails in hard and says, “forever,” with as much finality as she can muster.

He keeps staring at her, looking like he’s about ready to burst into tears in the middle of the hallway. Finally, he says, “come over tonight?” more a demand than a question.

She drops her grip on him and nods, content.

Chrissy doesn’t ask questions when Steve leads her over to Robin in the cafeteria. It’s easy to take that last, final step into social suicide with him at her side. 

They fall into their usual routine that night—they watch trashy TV neither would admit to liking to another living soul, and paint each other’s nails.

The lack of letter writing sits like a dead body between them.

“He won’t tell anyone,” Chrissy says, tightening her grip on his hand when he jerks. Chrissy keeps carefully painting his nails, her favorite pink, not looking up at his face. The color suits him—it’s not fair, but everything does. “He promised.”

Steve doesn’t ask for clarification, they both know who she’s talking about. “You believe him?”

She thinks about that torn, guilty look on Eddie’s face and replies, “I do.”

She finishes his pinkie and settles his hand down on her own knee to dry, knowing from previous experience that if she gives it back, he’ll ruin all her work running his hand through his hair.

“That’s good,” he mutters, looking down at his own hand, tilted so far forward that even when she looks up, his hair’s flopped too far into his face to see his eyes. “It still hurts.”

Chrissy sighs. She’d seen this coming all those months ago when she’d helped pen the first letter. Had seen the writing on the wall like it was she herself that was writing it. But, she’d helped him anyway, hoping to salvage his safety, if not his dignity.

She can only hope she has.

“I know,” she replies, biting her lip against apologies he won’t accept. “But, we’re in this together, okay?”

Steve’s fingers twitch on her leg, but he doesn’t pull away. “Even with you and Jeff?”

“You figured that out, huh?” she asks, and that’s what finally gets him to look up at her with a raised brow, making her laugh.

“I mean, you told me you were going to ask him out,” he starts, before leering over at her. “And you two aren’t exactly subtle.”

“Tell that to Eddie,” she replies, wanting to swallow the name back down once it comes out of her mouth, but it’s too late—it’s already been said.

Steve smiles wryly as he says, “well, he’s not exactly the most observant, is he?”

He has her there. Steve himself, no matter how hard he tried, wasn’t subtle with his affections: the compliments, the stuttering over his words, the blushing. But none of it had done more than make Eddie give Steve suspicious looks, like there was some sort of game he wasn’t in on.

There was, but even without knowing he was playing, he’d still beaten Steve.

“No, he’s really not.”

Steve hums, picking up his hand to check if it’s dry before moving onto painting her nails. He picks his favorite yellow for her, even though he knows it washes her out. She holds out her hand and doesn’t complain.

“I really like him,” Steve says, quietly enough that it’s barely audible over the murmur of voices coming from the TV.

“I know,” she whispers, watching the flickering sadness on his face by the illumination of the Harrington’s big television screen. “I love you. You know that, right?”

He pauses in painting her nails to meet her eyes, smiling for real now. “I know,” he says, stroking the skin on her wrist with the free fingers not holding the nail polish applicator. “And you know what? This was all worth it if I got you out of it.”

And then he just goes back to painting her nails like that wasn’t the most romantic thing anyone has ever said. Eddie Munson can fuck himself; Chrissy’s going to be buried in Steve’s letterman jacket and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

*** 

Eddie doesn’t go to school on Monday. He’s too busy rereading the secret admirer notes—the notes Steve Harrington left him—like if he reads them in the right order, it’ll all snap together in his brain in a way that makes fucking sense.

And it does, sort of. It’s like sorting out a bunch of puzzle pieces after finally knowing what the shape of the puzzle even is. Some parts of the letters just jump out of the page, the longer he looks. In the end, he processes this the way he processes everything: he makes a list.

   Proof that Steve Harrington is my Secret Admirer:

   1. I’m not trying to bully you.

   2. I wish I was brave enough to tell you. Brave like you.

   3. I know you don’t like them, but I like sports.

   4. My favorite color is yellow, like the sun, and sunflowers, and all those happy, bright colors.

   5. But my eyes? They’re brown, but nowhere near as pretty as yours.

   6. I tried playing the piano again, and I’m a little rusty.

   7. Do you hate all of them, or just the bullies?

   8.   You laughed, but it wasn’t your real laugh like when Mr. Danver accidentally said ‘orgasm’ instead of ‘organism’.

A jock afraid of Eddie labeling them as a bully? Check. Favorite color, the same one Steve Harrington had painted his nails all those weeks ago? Check. Rich enough to have a piano that’s just not played? Check. But the most damning part of all: Chrissy was never in Mr. Danver’s class with him last year, but Harrington was. And Chrissy? Her eyes are bright, translucent blue.

The longer he looks at those two incriminating bits of evidence, the stupider he feels. It was never her, and from the looks of it, they hadn’t put much effort into pretending it was. It was always Harrington from that first, forever-lost letter that they’d stuffed in his locker.

And the longer he pours over the letters, the less he can picture Chrissy sprawled on her bed, writing each letter with a shy flourish before spraying it with a puff of her favored scent. No. It’s Harrington, frowning down at the page because words have never come easy to him; it’s Harrington sleeping with Eddie’s letter placed gently beneath his pillow; it’s Harrington who’d made Eddie smile like a schoolgirl with her first crush.

And now that he thinks about it, wasn’t it Harrington whose eye he kept catching from across the cafeteria? Harrington who’d stutter over his words around Eddie, but still told him he was a good storyteller?

Harrington who wanted to go to his show. Chrissy hadn’t even remembered Corroded Coffin’s name. 

Harrington had–of course he had. 

And he can picture that, too now. Harrington in the crowd in his stupid polo with his bright yellow nail polish, sticking out like a sore thumb in the gruff crowd at the Hideout, beautiful brown eyes trained solely on Eddie.

He can still feel the way his pulse had ratcheted up when they were in the bathroom, Harrington between his spread thighs, palms warm against his tender ribs, sucking all the oxygen out of Eddie’s lungs with how close he was.

It’s too much.

“Hello?” Jeff’s mom sounds curt over the phone, already fed up with Eddie calling before he’s even said anything. Eddie doesn’t care; he can’t when he needs Jeff this badly.

“Can I talk to Jeff?” he cries out, hand shaking around the receiver as he listens to her grumble, but she still shouts for her son to come pick up the goddamn phone. 

“Hello?”

Eddie should wait until he’s sure Jeff’s mom is no longer in hearing vicinity, but he can’t, too wound up tight to keep from blurting out, “am I gay?”

There’s a moment of silence that Eddie can barely breathe through before Jeff says, “uhh, Eddie?” in such a bewildered voice that Eddie sort of wants to punch him.

“Yes, yes, it’s me,” he says, words spilling out over each other. “And I’m sorry about what I said, and you’re sorry that you kept secrets from me—we can do that later, Jeff!”

“Uh, oka—”

“Now, am I gay?” he’s panting by the time he’s done, not having taken a single breath during his tirade. He’s waiting for Jeff’s confirmation or denial, but all that comes down the line is his quiet breathing. “Jeff?”

“Uh, shit, we’re doing this? Okay.” Eddie can almost picture the fed-up palm Jeff’s rubbing against his face, as if it’s somehow Eddie’s fault that Jeff is taking so long explaining the squirmy nebulous feeling in Eddie’s gut. “I don’t know man, why do you think you’re gay?”

Then, Eddie does what he should have done all along, and spills everything to Jeff, from the first letter all the way up to Steve Harrington’s bitchy little speech in the quarry as he put himself bodily between Eddie and Jason Carver.

“—and then he kneeled between my knees like that’s a normal, straight guy thing to do and just like, put his hands in my shirt!” Eddie whines, long since having settled onto the cold linoleum of his kitchen floor. “I mean, what the hell?”

“I think you’re forgetting one important fact, dude: Steve’s not straight.”

“Which brings me back to my question!” Eddie replies, trying for breezy and landing on whiny. “Am I gay?”

Jeff hums down the line like he’s really thinking about it this time. “Well, when he was touching you,” he starts, like that already doesn’t have Eddie’s face flaming, “what did you feel?”

Eddie puts himself back into that moment, thighs splayed pressed open by the heavy weight of Harrington’s body, Harrington’s big, warm hands running over his skin, his worried golden brown eyes roving over Eddie’s face.

“I felt like I was on fire,” Eddie whispers, feeling that same heat now pooling lower in his gut.

“…in a good way?” Jeff asks.

Eddie’s brain goes static, full of too much to differentiate good from bad, if that’s a distinction that ever existed at all. Eddie makes a questioning noise in his throat, knees twitching restlessly where they’re crossed in front of him.

“Okay, okay, uhh—hmm,” Jeff hums across the line. “Did you want to move closer or away?”

Eddie closes his eyes and thinks, imagining that trapped, warm, overwhelming feeling of being caged in by Harrington’s body. “Both?”

Jeff hmms again, clearly trying to think it through. Eddie can’t blame him—this is the most confused he’s been in his entire life, and Jeff doesn’t even have an all-access pass to his brain to try to pick answers out of–not that it’s currently doing Eddie much good.

“Do you want to try kissing a guy?” Jeff asks. “I’d do it, if it was for you, dude.”

Eddie’s nose wrinkles, lips puckering in disgust, “ew, you’re like my brother.”

Jeff laughs at him and replies, “so you don’t want to, not because I’m a guy, but because we’re like brothers? Sounds pretty gay, dude.”

“Oh.”

Jeff doesn’t say anything; he’s always been good at sensing when Eddie just needs a minute to think. But this time, he doesn’t think a minute will cut it, so he continues with a, “hey Jeff?”

“Hmm?”

“I really did mean it, you know.” He squeezes the phone tighter against the side of his face, like that will help his sincerity ring down the line. “I am sorry, and we should talk about it, but I can’t yet.”

Jeff still doesn’t reply, but his breathing is steady and sure down the line, settling Eddie’s anxious heart down to a little flutter.

“Is that okay?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah, dude,” Jeff replies gruffly. “So, you’ll still call me?”

Eddie smiles. He’s missed Jeff, is the thing. They’ve been so distant lately, and no matter how well Eddie and Gareth get along, he’s no Jeff. “Or accost you at school, whichever comes first.”

That makes Jeff laugh; Eddie lets the sound warm him. “Okay, but I’m serious about the kissing thing!” Jeff replies, “Come over and I can plant one right on y—”

Eddie hangs up on his friend, feeling more himself than he has in days. No matter what happens, he has Jeff.

[peppermintquartz]

stuck in an elevator

Someone with a sick sense of humor must be writing my life, because a benevolent God sure as hell would never plan this, Tommy thinks in his bitchiest mental tone. Then he snorts. As if anyone would be interested enough to write a single paragraph about him.

The other occupant of the elevator pointedly does not look at him. Evan Buck keeps his tone so neutral, it's almost robotic. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. I mean, of all the places in Los Angeles to visit on a day off, we end up at LACMA together. And now we're stuck in the same elevator. What are the odds?" The ludicrously serendipitous nature of this encounter is keeping Tommy from other, less-pleasant thoughts, namely being trapped in a space without a view of the outside world. His pulse is starting to race.

They tried calling 911, but the signal in the elevator was poor. Thankfully the emergency intercom did connect to the museum's operations office, who has contacted emergency services.

"I should've taken the stairs," Tommy grumbles. His skin itches with the need to feel fresh air.

"With that boot on your ankle? Then you're dumber than I thought you were." Evan Buck finally glances over, his blue eyes scanning him from head to toe. "How did you injure yourself anyway?"

"Tripped when I was getting out of the bird," Tommy replies honestly.

Evan Buck scoffs and shakes his head, but his expression softens. "You doing okay otherwise?"

There are so many ways Tommy can answer. He can pretend he is perfectly okay. Somewhat okay. He can claim that he misses Evan Buck, but he wants to be friends, just friends. He can be flippant. Make it funny, keep things superficial.

But this is Evan asking him.

"I miss you like a heartbeat" is what comes out instead. And it's true - Tommy feels like an automaton, moving through time, his routines carrying him along from dawn till dusk.

Entire days going by without a single text from Evan Buck feel empty and pointless. The bedsheets need to be laundered but Tommy doesn't want to lose the final traces of the last time they slept in the same bed. There are books Evan Buck brought over to read when Tommy wants to watch a movie.

And now they are stuck together, in an enclosed metal box, and Tommy is trying not to think about that while also trying not to think about how much he wants to kiss Evan. So he vacillates between a bone-deep phobia and a bone-deep yearning.

"I'm sorry. That was too heavy to lay on you like that." His fingers are clammy where his palms are on the mirrored wall. Licking his lips, he says, "But I don't want to lie to you. Not about anything. But I'm good otherwise, Evan."

"I'm not." Evan inhales deeply and blows out his breath. "I'm... I'm baking every time I think about texting you or calling you. The loft smells like a goddamn bakery. And still, still I can't forget the way you smell, the way you sound, the way you fucking taste. I want - I want so badly - to turn back time, figure out what I said wrong that made you run from me. Maybe I wanna be mad at you. I don't know. But I'm not good, Tommy. I'm not gonna be good for a long time."

"I'm sorry," Tommy begins, but Evan cuts him off.

"I don't want you to be sorry," he snaps, and to Tommy's shame, his eyes well up with tears. "I want you to be mine. I want to be yours. I want... I want us, together. That's what I want. I don't wanna be good, I don't want you to be sorry, I want us to be happy together, that's all I fucking want!"

The silence that falls between them is thick as concrete.

His hands and feet are cold now, and he thinks he is a little dizzy. Gulping down a breath, Tommy says, "I shouldn't have run. It was... I was afraid. That... that you'd see me and everything I'm not."

This is when Evan sighs and turns to face him. "I should've chased after you. I was afraid too. I moved too fast, I know now. But you running away and ghosting me after was a dick move."

"I guess we both have a lot to work through." Tommy manages a tight smile. He is starting to feel lightheaded, and his breathing is picking up pace despite his best efforts to stay calm and distract himself with Evan's presence. His hands are clammy and he tries to wipe them dry on his jeans. "Evan?"

"Tommy?"

"How long before 911 arrives?" Tommy's mouth is dry. His vision sparks and he is valiantly trying to hold on to his composure, but he feels like he's boiling in his dark blue henley; he needs air, he needs the sky, he needs space to flee-

"Tommy!" Evan is right next to him, keeping him from collapsing and hurting himself. His touch grounds Tommy in the present moment, and his face this close blocks out the sight of the metal coffin they are stuck in. "They'll be here soon, okay? It's all good, they'll be here soon. Breathe for me, come on, inhale , two, three, four; hold, two. three, four..."

Evan talks him through the breathing exercises, holding him up and against himself, all the way even after the elevator lurches back to life and delivers them to the next floor safely.

After he's helped out of the elevator, Tommy wretches and vomits all over the floor, some of the sick getting on Evan's nice shoes.

"Sorry," says Tommy, eyes tearing from the force of the nausea, his big frame trembling.

"They're just shoes," says Evan, soothing a hand along his spine. To the attending paramedic, he says, "He has mild claustrophobia. Not usually a problem, but we were in there a while."

Tommy follows the paramedic - Jefferson - to a bench, accepting a quick look-over. To his surprise, Evan stays with him. Jefferson doesn't see anything wrong other than shock and leaves them with a blanket when another call comes in, about some old man and a broken hip.

Tommy finally recovers after about twenty minutes. He smiles wryly at Evan. "Sorry. You don't have to stick around, there's a lot to see in LACMA."

"Tough luck chasing me off," says Evan. There's a determined set to his jaw.

"Evan, I mean, Buck, surely you have other places to go."

"First of all, I hate hearing you call me Buck. Second of all, I'm not going anywhere. I know exactly what I want, and I'm pretty sure I know what you want."

"Yeah? What do I want?"

"To be my forever," says Evan. He looks Tommy in the eye. "And I know enough about myself and relationships, a-and love, to say that I want you to be my forever too. So. Hah. I'm sticking around. Sucks to be you."

Tommy huffs out an amused and exasperated breath. "Still a brat."

"Yeah? Well, you can either put up with me, or you can do something about it." But there's no hiding the curl of his lips.

[leaawrites]

Dial Drunk

Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: in which, Lando is young, drunk and in love.

Warnings: police, driving under influence, mentions of alcohol, mentions of a breakup, bad dialogue (this one is old)

Wordcount: 1.8k

Masterlist

He’d seen the blue and red colour in his rear view mirror long before he could even register that he was sat in his car, neither where he was driving. His head felt dull, filled with too many thoughts of things he swore to forget. Things he swore wouldn’t matter anymore because they shouldn’t. One of them being her.

She was in all of them actually, whether she played the main character or was just a side thought, but she was always there. In the back of his mind, where he still heard her voice talk to him in such a soft tone like no one would ever be able to do, she was still taking his hands and making him dance with her through his living room. Even against every complaint from his side, she wouldn’t let him sit down again. Instead they were swaying to the rock song that played next.

Now, he was looking at the officer standing next to his car, a disappointment look in both their eyes and a sense of the other in their mind. They were in the middle of nowhere. Lando on his way to her. The man on his way back to his work, probably to link out for tonight and go back home. A place where Lando should be too.

“What have we been up to tonight, sir?” He asked, looking down at the bruised knuckles that still held onto the steering wheel like he was afraid of letting go and having nothing to steady himself on.

Lando wasn’t too sure how to answer. He wasn’t too sure about what he was up to that night himself. A couple drinks in a club, which Max urged him to go to, in order to ‘free him from his bed and sulking’. After the shots, there were some girls. Interesting enough to dance with but he knew that they wouldn’t come home with him, he was sure they knew that too. They knew who he was. And then - a guy he wouldn’t call a stranger, neither a friend, simply some guy he knew - said something about her. About them.

His voice dripped with alcohol, his words intoxicated by the shots they took together. Lando shouldn’t have taken them the way he did, he knew that now, but it felt right in the moment. His fist in the other guy’s face, he just wanted him to stop talking. Unsure if he would’ve made him quiet forever, Max pulled him away quicker than Lando could think about his actions. Then he went away; out into the cold and into his car to tell her about the bad he’d done for her.

“Not a lot,” Lando answered, looking down guilty. Both of them knew that Lando wasn’t sober, they also knew that he wouldn’t get away from this unharmed.

“May you blow into this?”

He did, and when the officer raised his eyebrows at the result of the alcohol test, Lando knew he was fucked.

“Is there anyone you can call to pick you up?” The officer asked, dialling a number of his own on his phone already, not looking up at Lando once while talking to him. It was kind of rude, Lando believed, to ignore someone while you were talking to them. “Any emergency contacts?”

At no response, the man held out his hand for Lando to place his phone in it. Going to the emergency contacts himself, there was only one. Y/n. Simple. No heart behind her name anymore, no silly nickname, but her face was still beside it. Dialling the number it rang and rang. Lando could hear the endless sound from his place in the car, it dragged on for a while before, in the end, she hung up.

“Your only emergency contacts and they don’t even want to speak to you, not very helpful,” he commented, handing Lando his phone back. The screen lighting up at the interaction. Her face still smiling at him, he hadn’t had the heart to make her disappear completely from everywhere he knew her from. Some part of her was still with him and he couldn’t just throw it away.

“Can I drive you somewhere, sir?”

The outline of her building was in his sight sooner than he’d like it to be, the speech he’d rehearsed ever since they called it quits was now somewhere still in his car, left together with the jacket of his she loved to wear.

“You alright, kid?” The officer - Jeff - asked, knowing too well what he was going through. Anyone willing to look at him could see it in the once white, now red of his eye. It was visible in his pulled down lip corners and the void of nothing in his eyes. Feeling nothing was worse than feeling the pain, they concluded together in silence on their drive to the address Lando gave him.

‘I have a kid of my own, you know, son? He’s been in love with this boy for years now, too afraid of what would happen to him if he stated the truth, what the people would think of him. But, in the end, I told him, that love couldn’t be stopped, no matter what other people thought about it. Whether it was wrong or right in their eyes, it will always matter how it feels to you. If it’s hurting, change it. If it makes you happy, try everything to make it stay that way.’

“Thanks,” Lando muttered, a soft, still forced smile creeping on his lips now that he was there. The place he went to in his dreams as the dream she always believed he was. The dream boy she saw in him. Her dream boy.

“Good luck.”

The doorbell seemed too loud for the quiet night now, as he looked at it. The metal of it seeming too heavy for him to be able to push it down and make himself known. He couldn’t throw pebbles at her window, he wasn’t even too sure if he could even remember which window was hers.

But her name called out for him to say it once more, no matter the outcome. He just had to try it one more time.

Pushing the circle in the middle of the medal, next to her name, he could hear it echo in his mind. The sound too familiar now that he was stood here again. How many times had he been on the receiving end because he went to her apartment unannounced, without her there, and answering the door for postmen or neighbours? Too many too count, he concluded in the same moment as he heard her voice through the stereo.

“Hello?” Her voice sounded sleepy, like she’d only woken up from the sound.

All of a sudden, Lando felt flustered. Ashamed for thinking she’d just forgive him on the spot because he told her, that he loved her. It wasn’t as easy as that and that thought only crept up on him now: she had every right to deny him. But what then? What would he do? Where would he go? He couldn’t call Max, disturbing his night out because he wasn’t the man she wanted anymore. He had no one else here. His parents were too far away and everyone else he knew was either in Monaco or somewhere else in the world, just not London.

“Hello?” She voiced again, more rage filling her voice this time. “I swear if this is some stupid joke, just let it be-”

“It’s me.” Maybe he was the joke. Maybe he should just let it be.

The simple sound of his voice made her go quiet, but she didn’t hang up, she was still there, her breathing was heard when listened to closely enough.

“Can we talk?”

She let him in. The harsh buzz of the door taking him by surprise at first, before he quickly pushed it open and made his way into the hallway, up the stairs until he stood in front of her door. It was open, open for him to enter. Lando stayed still for a second longer than normally someone would, before he pushed it open to reveal the apartment behind the walls. It still looked the same, she had less pictures - theirs gone from their place - but other than that it was all the same as when he left.

Y/n was sat on the sofa, knees pulled up close to her chest and her eyes were fixated on the floor in front of her. The far left of the cushion still empty, waiting for him. Slowly, Lando made his way towards it, sitting down and taking off his head like it was disrespectful if he didn’t do it.

“You wanted to talk?” Her voice almost sounded sarcastic, like she couldn’t believe those words actually left his mouth. Him, the man who left without a second word beside: This is something I have to do alone; before walking out the door for what she believed to be forever now wanted to talk all of a sudden.

“I was dumb,” he started, the words coming out faster than he could process them. The alcohol taking off the nerves and adding the free mind he needed. “I wasn’t truthful and I was stupid and an complete wanker. I wanted you beside me, I also will and want and have. I want to love you and I know I screwed up but please, please give me another chance. Please, Y/n. Monaco, it’s so quiet without you. My whole life is too quiet now that you aren’t there. You and your laugh and talks about whatever it is that’s been on your mind lately. I miss it all.

“I miss you.”

She would lie if she said she didn’t feel the same, the city felt too big now that she had spent more time alone in it. But she would lie if she said that she was ready to forgive him.

“You hurt me. You really did.”

“I know.”

“You made me feel unwanted, like a burden almost.”

“You could never be a burden to me.”

“Didn’t sound like it back then.”

“I’m sorry.”

She sighed, rubbing her temple and the side of her face in order to make the headache go away that she knew was coming her way.

“You can’t just expect me to forgive you.”

“I don’t,” he assured her, edging closer to her side.

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I want to try and make you trust me again.”

“I never stopped trusting you.”

“You should’ve.”

“I know, but I didn’t.”

“Look, Lando.” She could see the feelings of hope and disappointment battling in his eyes, neither wanting to be wrong, because they both knew they were right, in certain ways. “I can’t just forgive you. You have to work that out yourself.”

“I will. I will do whatever it takes for you to trust me again, I promise. I just can’t keep on living without you.”

[hyperions-light]

woAH I heard people are hating on Neve which is super cringe! Neve positivity time!!

I am in love with her because

1. She has an impeccable sense of fashion, she never misses, could make a paper bag look good

2. Docktown sucks so bad, like major Kirkwall vibes, and she loves it SO MUCH

3. If you give money to the people asking for it on the streets in Docktown, sometimes Neve will check in with them and make sure they have a place to stay it’s so sweet !!!

4. She cannot cook at all. Only eats fried fish. Boils her coffee. Zero domestic skills, completely perfect

5. She loves Bellara so much, she’s such a good friend ;-; She finds all her serials and helps her try to work out the mysteries! She gets her goat cheese! She comes to Cyrian’s funeral ;-;

6. If you wander around Docktown with her in your party you can stop and talk to her regular contacts and she will check in with them <3

7. She works alone because she’s scared that the people who try to help her will get hurt =(

8. She’s not afraid of Spite and she refuses to see Lucanis as a monster or treat him differently, even after he almost kills Illario.

9. She helps Taash figure out their gender stuff and she is so supportive and helpful <3

10. The WAY she talks to people who are hurting… like even though she’s so cynical, personally, she never tells people to give up on others, she’s never sarcastic or scathing when people are in pain. I took her on Taash’s final mission last time, and her voice ;-; She wanted to help so badly, but she couldn’t do anything. She reminded them that everyone was there for them. She loves SO much, so intensely.

11. She does not expect anyone to help her, and especially if you don’t save Minrathous she’s skeptical, but she’s so thankful for Rook’s help when they give it. She’s so fucking lonely, man! She thinks she has to do it all herself, because everyone else in the world and especially in Minrathous has shown her over and over that they don’t care about the people she loves, the people like HER. She’s not rich, she’s not famous or powerful or well-connected, she’s just using what she has to try and help people!

12. Manfred canonically doesn’t like nicknames, but he lets Neve call him ‘Fred

Neve Gallus, the woman you are <3

Edit: When I posted this someone immediately made some rude comment so here’s some more stuff to love about Neve Gallus!

13. She investigated the mystery of the candlehops and she was so serious about it! Just like the wisps in the Lighthouse!

14. When she was a kid she didn’t know what she wanted to be when she grew up and she HATED it lol

15. She got her best coat as a gift from a grateful client!

16. She keeps her tiny little apartment because they gave her a good deal on the rent and she doesn’t want to lose it

17. Halos keeps trying to give her fish for free but she insists on paying him <3

18. That joke she made to Lucanis about having an extra leg if he needed one lol

19. She misses the sound of the ocean, and sometimes when she wakes up in the Lighthouse she hears it for a moment

20. The way she explains everything so patiently to Taash about Tevinter and Docktown and the way status symbols work; the way she is always trying to use her skills to help the other members of the team!!

21. How she makes sure to check up on that kid whose father was doing demon summoning stuff and make sure that he’s alright ;-;

[annie-writesstuff]

Come here, kitty, kitty! - Sylus (Part 2)

Summary: The curse of the Evol cats wears off. Majority of it, at least. Sylus finds himself in his 'human' form. However, your reaction is not what he expected. He thinks you're one of the most interesting persons he has ever met.

Warnings: None. Fluff. I really think Sylus is a green flag. Man is guarded, but when he opens up he's a softie. Tall, dark and handsome lol. He is whipped. It turned kinda angsty (sowwy). Slight - perhaps - spoiler/theory about his past if you squint.

Also, thank you to everyone who read part one! I am truly happy that so many of you enjoyed it!

And thank you to the Anon that messaged me! I am truly happy you loved the story! Thank you!

You can read PART 1 here!

The sun filters through your broken blinds. You scrunch your nose, eyelids fluttering until they fully open. Your [e/c] eyes meet your old wooden ceiling. A yawn leaves your lips as you stretch.

"Good morning."

"Morning!" You chirp reflexively, yawning once again.

Wait.

Slowly, you turn your head.

Sylus smirks, wondering if your half asleep brain has finally caught up on what is going on.

"Um..." You stutter, tugging the blanket closer to you. "Hi..?"

The smirk disappears from his face at your tame reaction. Every time he thinks he's got you figured out, you surprise him.

You should've been screaming, trying to get away from him, hurling objects in his direction.

Instead you're looking at him with more curiosity than shock.

"Red?"

He meets your eyes, and nods. "You don't seem surprised."

"I am!" You assure. "It's just... I don't know how to react. I mean... You looked so familiar. And when I looked into your eyes... I realized you were my little kitty."

"Your little kitty?"

A little flustered, you hurry to correct yourself. "I mean... the... the kitty..."

Rising his hand, he stops you. "Now, I do not like owing people. But you took me in and fed me. So thank you, kitten. Name your price."

Eh? A bit flabbergasted, you stare at him. "P... price?"

"Yes."

Honestly, you just want one thing. "Can I pet your ears?"

Pet his ears... is that what you want? Well, who is he to deny such request?

Rather than giving his verbal approval, Sylus leans down, so that you can reach the twitching ears atop his head.

He is a bit uneasy when your hand first makes contact with one of his ears, but he realizes that, just like yesterday, you're being careful and mindful. His ears are sensitive, but the way you're caressing them feels tolerable nice.

"You're a cute big cat." You smile, switching your attention to his other ear.

A tiny gasp leaves your lips as he leans into your touch, a lot more instinctively than consciously.

"If you tell anyone about this, there will be consequences."

You can't help but giggle, solemnly nodding. "Nobody will know."

He nodded, satisfied, and once you have had your fill, he moves away.

"Can I have your name?"

Normally, he wouldn't reveal his identity. However, because he is almost one hundred percent sure you don't know who he is, he complies.

"Sylus."

"How can I get you back home, Sylus?"

"I'd need to borrow your phone, kitten."

You nod, and without an ounce of hesitation, hand him your device, which had charged during the night.

Sylus uses the special code from the unknown number to contact the twins, which soon reply that they will be on their way shortly.

They don't press for any answers when he asks them to bring him a change of clothes.

Good. He is not in the mood to be answering anything.

At around an hour later, he has changed into his suit, and he walks out of your small bathroom, buttoning his dress shirt at the wrist.

"Thank you again for your... hospitality." He reiterates.

You nod, offering some water bottles to the masked individuals that came to pick up the 'boss', as they've called him.

"I hope to see you again, Sylus." You say softly, walking him to the door.

The taller male hesitates for one second, before looking down at you. "I look forward to it, kitten." He says.

This isn't going to be the last time you see him.

He's going to make sure of it.

Once he is back in his penthouse on N109 zone, Sylus can't help but feel bored.

His eyes darken as Mephisto updates him on your whereabouts. He clicks his tongue, expertly maneuvering a golden bullet with his fingers.

Money and power can give him anything he wants.

Except that the one thing he wants is priceless.

His Evol turns to dust the bullet in his hand as he decides his course of action.

Sylus has always found humans interesting, but you... are a complete enigma.

He wants to know every little detail. What makes you smile, what makes you sad. What ticks you, what excites you.

He wants things to go organically. The two of you have a bond, already, and he would never force you into anything, but he's quite sure that you're also thinking about him.

Fate... is cruel.

But it is wise.

You have found each other, and he firmly belives there is a reason why.

Maybe in this life, there is a hope for happiness for him.

[lostintransist]

.. that idea on ghost coming back with his therapist’s contact is brilliant, could we get a pt2 when we do hit him up cuz,,, it’s inevitable and he pulls up in that same motorbike and actually plans a banger date?

Just for you! A part 2! Original post for anyone curious is here.

Also thank you for what I am percieving as patience, I had things to accomplish today. But it gave me time to think about this...

CW: I can't think of any.

You held onto the business card. No real explanation that would satisfy you or anyone who might have asked. And your best friend did ask. Repeatedly.

“You still have the card?” She asked over drinks.

Running your tongue along the inside of your teeth you debate on how to answer.

“Yes,” you reply curtly.

“And have you called the therapist or texted him yet? Do you even know his name?” She followed her questions with a sip of her drink.

“All I know is that when I search up S. Riley I get a few hits about a brother to a home invasion that ended badly a few years ago and nothing else. No one on social media matches him and without his full name or maybe a birthday I can’t find much else about someone that might be him.” Flopping back into the couch you watch your drink slide side to side as you tip your glass.

“You don’t have to call him but you have to make a decision about this soon,” she chides.

“No decision is a decision though.”

She gives you the flattest stare she can muster. Seeing as your best friend is autistic it’s a pretty impressive flat look.

Heaving a sigh you concede the point.

“Fine. I get it. I can’t avoid this forever, what if he finds me at a coffee shop again and asks why I haven’t called? S. Riley sure does seem like a man who doesn’t know how to leave well enough alone.”

“I think you should call and tell the therapist to inform him that you would like to never see him again, but you have this whole ‘attracted to the adventure’ thing going on.” She rolled her eyes.

Aghast at being so well identified, it does not matter that she is your best friend, you fire off a rude gesture at her. She only laughs.

“At least I never have to worry about not realizing I fumbled the woman of my dreams three months late,” you say with a wicked grin.

“It was one time!” Your best friend launches one of the couch pillows at you.

“Twice.”

The purest look of concern crosses her face.

“Twice?” Comes her panicked ask.

“Once at the bar,” she nods, “And then last week at the bookstore.”

Watching her eyes go wide and her mouth drops open you can’t help the full-body laugh that overtakes you.

“I thought she was just being nice!” Her voice gets squeakier with each word.

You are laughing so hard you can’t breathe.

“I fucking love you and am so glad we are best friends,” you manage to croak out between ab-shredding laughs.

💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠

Your next early day off of work you pop in your headphones and call the number printed on the business card. It sat between your insurance card and your driver’s license. Those two cards didn’t see much action and would keep the business card from disappearing.

“Thank you for calling Healing Sky Therapy, how can I help you?”

“Yes, is Anna Mortz available?”

“For a phone call or an appointment?” The sound of clicking keys bubbles over the line.

“A phone call, I am calling to speak to her about a current patient of hers.”

“Okay, and are you a provider?”

This causes you to pause. Did you really need to explain why or how you were connected to this crazy situation? No. Bare bones it is.

“No, I should be listed as a person who can discuss the care of a patient of hers who goes by S. Riley?”

“Okay,” she drags the word. “It looks like I can drop a call in her schedule in about forty minutes if that would work for you?”

“That would work great, can I give you a callback number?”

“Yes, I can take that when you are ready.”

Finishing up the phone call you grabbed your grocery list and headed out the door. Your phone rang as you were transferring bags from your cart to your trunk. The number looked vaguely familiar and so you answered.

“Hi this is Anna Mortz, I am returning a phone call.”

“Yes, hi Anna. I am the one who called.”

“That was in regards to Simon Riley, right? Let’s go through some information on my end to make sure that we can discuss him first okay?”

“Absolutely,” you slam the trunk closed and return your cart while confirming all of your information.

“So, what questions can I answer for you?” Anna started.

“Let me get settled and I will give you the rundown.” Tossing your purse to the passenger side and locking the door you get situated in your seat. You push a large breath from your lungs and start. “Okay, so this is a weird situation. The long and the short of it is that Simon had been dating a friend of mine several years back and they were not good together. He was being a pushy asshole who refused to let the relationship die and she was codependent to a deeply unhealthy level. My friend asked for help in telling him off once and for all. She tended to cave and give into having sex every time he came by to start a fight. That is where I met Simon.”

Anna made a noise of confirmation. You took it as permission to keep telling your story.

“Nothing more came of that except my friend and I drifted apart, nothing major and not important to the story. I ran into Simon next at my friend’s wedding reception. I don’t know if he showed up to confirm to himself that it was really over or if she actually invited him but,” you paused here eyes tracing the dash of the car parked in front of you. With a slight shake of your head, you focus back on your phone call. “That is neither here nor there. He hit on me that night and I told him basically to fuck off and go to therapy if he wanted a shot at that conversation.”

Puffing your cheeks with air you slowly let it out, you felt like you were explaining a whole crazy situation to the principal.

“He ran into me at a coffee shop close to probably a year later, dropped your card on the table with his number on the back, and insinuated that I would call because I was interested in him.”

“Okay, that is pretty close to the story he told me as well,” Anna speaks with kind authority. “What I can tell you from a clinical standpoint is that Simon struggles with C-PTSD, which is complex post-traumatic stress disorder. This basically means that Simon has been through so many traumatic events at so many points in his life that he has a hard time functioning day to day without it affecting every aspect of his life. I can also tell you that we have been working on him gaining some coping abilities and practicing social skills.”

“Okay, I guess what I am asking is that if I go on a date with him will I end up with a stalker who will end up killing me in the night if I say I don’t want to see him again?” You lay your concerns bare. She’s not your therapist so her judgment worries you a bit less.

“While nothing is guaranteed,” she hedges, “I cannot see that kind of behavior occurring with the progress Simon has made. He has scheduled out appointments weekly for the next three months with me and has even mentioned he is working on some other types of therapy I have recommended to help him process his traumas further. He’s actually doing the work to deal with his issues. I think he is here because he wants to be, you happened to be the trigger.”

Resting your elbow on the steering wheel you leaned your head into your hand.

“Whew, okay. Thank you. That is actually really helpful. How is he about accepting boundaries?”

“He is familiar and comfortable with them in a work context but if you choose to interact with him I know personal boundaries will come up in our sessions. So, I would keep it in mind when interacting with him.”

“Okay, thank you so much Anna this call has been,” a slight pause, “Enlightening. I appreciate your time.”

“Happy to help. Have a good day!”

With that the phone call ends and you stare down at your phone. Flicking open your messaging app you add the contact you saved to it almost a month ago.

<Your therapist seems nice.

Three minutes pass as you watch the screen. It goes black once and you wake it with a tap on the screen.

Tossing it to the passenger side on top of your purse you put the text from your mind. You instead focus on pulling out of your spot. Parking lots are of the devil and you aren’t even religious like that.

Five days pass before a message dings on your phone from one S. Riley.

>Can’t say she is nice to me. I get a lot of mean looks from her.

Setting a timer for an hour and thirteen minutes you let the text simmer. You hope he can see that you have opened the message.

<You normally take a work week to respond?

>Only when I am on a job.

The reply comes in instantly.

<What kind of jobs keep you from your phone?

>Classified.

<Ooh big brain work then. Got it.

You snort at the eye roll emoji he sends.

>So, have you decided if I can hit you up yet?

<I’m thinking about it. If I were to say yes, where would you take me?

>Indoor sky diving.

You read the three-word message at least six times, check out the closest indoor sky diving place near you, and then finally reply.

Starting and erasing three messages you finally settle on one.

<Would we ride your bike there?

>Unless you would prefer to talk on the drive over?

What do you talk about with a man when you had to check with his therapist that he wouldn’t murder you?

<Bike sounds like fun.

>Saturday?

<Maybe. Time?

>2

<Done. Pick me up at noon and we can grab lunch?

>No, you’re going to want an empty stomach. Dinner instead.

Narrowing your eyes at the message you debate the logic of testing a boundary yet. The advice to not have a full stomach did look like a good one.

<Fine, but nowhere fancy. If I can’t roll up in the same outfit I don’t want it.

The only reply you get for several hours is a thumbs up on your message.

Guess you had a date coming up.

[signedaiko]

Can I request MTMTE Megatron x platonic bot reader, where they reunite on earth and make peace with each other? Reader was kinda like his adopted kid before the war and looked up to him when he started the Decepticons. However, when he became the warlord and started harming other worlds, reader disagreed with him and became an Autobot. After the war, reader remained on earth because they grew to love it as their home, and now Megatron and reader talk about their past regrets and make peace. Reader is more glad that the Megatron they once knew came back, and even share things going on with their life (Like living their dreamed profession or having a conjux)

Megatron & Reader [MTMTE]

In which you long since cut contact with your mentor Megatron, and many millions of years later he finds you.

Reader is: Gender Neutral | Cybertronian | Autobot.

Since your days in the mines, you'd known Megatron

A well-spoken, albeit a bit antisocial, miner

Him and Terminus took you in, where they taught you about the Decepticon movement, something you began to help rally for

But humble beginnings are only beginnings, and as the story goes, Megatron lost his touch

Someone who had been treating you with kindness eventually turned his back to you, and the last time he'd seen you, your Decepticon badge had been replaced with the red of an Autobot logo

It had been many years since then. Megatron hadn't uttered your name to a single con in hopes you might be alive, and every once in a while he would see glimpses of you in battles

But that was many, many years ago

Now, you were a whisper in his mind, someone he was sure had likely passed on in the four million years of war, especially since he hadn't heard it in so long

Since his joining of the Lost Light crew, you'd come up in his memories far more frequently

He wanted to ask if anyone knew you or what happened to you, but he was afraid of what he might find out

Until he overheard a conversation Perceptor and Brainstorm were having, in which he heard your name come up

Perceptor, when asked, is quick with providing proof it's you and tells him all about your new life on Earth

He's able to get a direct comm link to you through Perceptor, who promises not to say anything to you and leave it at that

It takes him days upon days of deep thought and contemplation on whether you'll answer him, what he'll say, if you'll be able to move on from what he's done, if you're okay

The first call, it takes a while for you to reply, but when you do, you sound uncertain

"Megatron? Is that you?"

It starts slow; he tells you that he's an Autobot now and how he got your comm; he does most of the talking while you take everything in

But by call three or four, you're sharing how you'd ended up on Earth helping humans with Cybertronian attacks and cleanup, how you'd made friends with a group of humans, and how you were mentoring some of those humans now

You sounded happy and healthy

Truly, what more could he ask for?

Calls become a weekly basis where he checks on you and learns about Earth, and it saves him a lot of sparkache after all the agonizing thoughts he's had over the years about you having died to the cons

Now you're safe, and he'll be okay

Author's Note - What a cute prompt! I had so many ideas for this the moment I read it, so thank you for the request!

I did alter it because in MTMTE he never gets to Earth so I hope this makes do!

[musashi]

Hiiii, so this is a call for some help with a video I have in the works right now.

I am looking for a Latinx volunteer to... I guess sensitivity read and/or help me fine-tune a very specific part of a youtube video script. Preferably someone in the Ace Attorney fandom, but you do not need to be by any means--if there are any plot details you need me to explain to you to make my points clearer, my autistic ass will jump at the opportunity.

It's a misconception debunking video with a little 'character assassination' bit at the end where I plan on talking about unfortunate boxes, flanderizations, and stereotypes that some of the characters in my favourite visual novel often get lumped into. One of these characters is Diego Armando, a Latino (dark skinned Japanese in the original) man who is constantly held to higher scrutiny by the fandom than his lightskinned peers. He is frequently demonized, painted as a misogynistic scumbag, held in much worse faith than other culprits for his very understandable and sympathetic wrongdoing, and overall just treated incredibly harsh for things that other comparable characters get away with on account of them 'looking' white and having more anglicized names.

Since I am white myself I do not plan on speaking excessively about the experience when it is not my own but I think it is a huge fucking disservice to not focus on the fact that this fandom treatment all just stems from racism. It's the one part of my video where I don't plan on even entertaining "the other side" or explaining where the misinterpretation "comes from" I want to just. Make the point. That it's racism, with no rhyme or reason.

But I obviously don't feel qualified to just do that on my own so this is just me putting out feelers to ask if anyone would like to read over this part of my script for me, offer concrit (scalding concrit if you must, please, I want it to be as tight as possible) and basically just make sure my own white privilege doesn't gloss over, misrepresent, or miss anything. Basically just asking for help not fucking it up.

Again you do not have to be into AA to help me with this, I can tell you all about the character and what he does and doesn't do, his place in the story, and the things I hear about him in fandom and how they don't hold up on other comparable characters. Just know I will have to spoil the whole final game for you if you ever plan on getting into it haha. And, once again, please only volunteer if you are Latinx yourself.

I will, of course, give you full credit and thanks in my video and in the description, and link my viewers to any and all platforms if you'd like. Since I make no money off youtube and am horrendously broke myself, if you have any donation links posted anywhere I will boost the hell out of those too. That's about all I can offer for compensation OTL

Please contact me via ask if this is something you're interested in. You can also reply on this post and I can open DMs for you or get in touch with you via email or discord. I really, really, really want to include this in the video but I want to do it right.

Even if you're not someone who qualifies, if you are an AA blog or have lots of AA blogs following you, I'd appreciate a reblog to boost this! Thank you :3

[dissapointu]

“Steel and Softness”

You’re not sure how it came to this.

Sevika sits next to you at the corner table in the Last Drop, her usual spot where the dim lighting frames her strong profile. Her metallic arm rests on the table, the whirring of its mechanisms barely audible over the hum of the bar. You’re fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve, trying to avoid her gaze, though you can feel her sharp eyes watching you.

It all started when some loudmouth at the bar decided to take out his frustration on you. You’d been carrying drinks for customers—careful, quiet, and avoiding eye contact as usual—when he barked something rude at you for accidentally brushing past him.

You apologized, stammering out the words, but he wasn’t satisfied. The insults came fast, and you couldn’t muster anything other than a soft, “I’m sorry.”

That’s when Sevika stepped in.

“Hey.” Her voice cut through the noise like a blade, silencing not just the man but everyone within earshot. When she stood up, the bar fell into a tense hush. “You got a problem?” she asked, her tone calm but laced with warning.

The guy tried to play it off, muttering something about you needing to watch where you were going, but Sevika wasn’t having it. She crossed the room in a few strides, towering over him with an aura that screamed danger.

“You don’t talk to them like that,” she said, her voice low and cold. “Understand?”

The man nodded quickly, muttering something incoherent before practically running out of the bar.

Now, back at the table, you can’t stop replaying the scene in your head. Your hands are trembling slightly, not from fear of Sevika but from the weight of her attention.

“You’ve got to stop letting people treat you like that,” she says, breaking the silence.

Her tone isn’t unkind, but it’s firm. You glance at her, only to find her leaning back in her chair, one eyebrow raised as she waits for your response.

“I—I didn’t want to make a scene,” you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sevika snorts, shaking her head. “They made the scene, not you.” She leans forward, resting her forearms on the table, and you can’t help but notice the contrast between her scarred hands and the softness in her expression. “Look, I get it. You’re not like me. You don’t have to be. But you can’t just let people walk all over you.”

You lower your gaze, feeling the weight of her words. “I don’t know how to… stand up for myself,” you admit quietly.

Her hand reaches out, the flesh-and-blood one, and she gently taps your chin, tilting your face up to meet her eyes. “You’ve got a voice. Use it,” she says, her tone softer now. “Even if it’s just a whisper, it’s better than nothing.”

You blink at her, unsure what to say. Sevika isn’t someone you’d ever expect to be this patient, but here she is, taking the time to teach you something you’ve always struggled with.

“If anyone gives you trouble,” she continues, her lips quirking into a smirk, “you let me know. I’ll handle it. But I want you to try, alright? Even if it’s just once.”

You nod hesitantly, and she leans back with a satisfied expression.

“Good,” she says, crossing her arms. “Now, let’s get you a drink. You look like you need one after all that.”

Despite your lingering nerves, you feel a warmth spreading through you. Sevika’s words replay in your mind, and for the first time, you think maybe—just maybe—you can learn to stand a little taller. And with her by your side, you feel just a little braver.

[cass-kiram]

On duty

Summary: On duty as an enforcer for your counsellor wife, along with your daughter.

Pairing(s): Cassandra Kiramman x Reader, Daughter!Caitlyn Kiramman x Reader

You stand posted outside your wife's tent for the festival, you keep a watchful eye on your surroundings, scanning every person for any potential threat to your loved ones.

Feeling a light tap on your shoulder you turn your head to come face to face with your daughter's blue hair, you scan her appearance before you scoff out a chuckle.

"What are you laughing at?" She looks down at her enforcer uniform anxiously, trying to find any flaws in her appearance. Finding none she looks back up at you before crossing her arms.

"Just wondering what strings your mother pulled to get you posted here." You reach over and flick her hat lightly, chuckling softly as she swats your hand away with a roll of her eyes.

"Not many i'm presuming...she's a counsellor after all." She mumbles as she adjusts the hat on her head, you reach over to flick her hat again before she grab your hand and twists it back.

"Ah! Cait, Cait! Shit." You shake your hand to relieve it from the pain before you look around to see if anyone saw you nearly break your hand due to your own child twisting it back.

She grins at your obvious pain before she squeals as her hat is knocked off her head, you take her distraction as a sign to bring her into a headlock and rub the top of her head, effectively giving her a noogie.

She breaks free from the headlock and kicks your legs making you fall to the ground, you see her foot lean back to kick you before you roll away and stand up.

Grunting from the pain in your leg from her kicking it, you prepare to strike again before shuffling from the right of you begins to sound.

"Break it up you two." A disappointed voice is heard, causing you to raise your hands in surrender. "Didn't you learn from last time you guys did this?"

Ah, last time. One of you ended up with the broken nose and the other with a swollen eye, to say your wife wasn't impressed was an understatement.

"Sorry, honey."

"Sorry, mum."

Both refusing to make eye contact with the woman stood in front of them. You close your eyes before you run a hand down your face and look at your daughter.

She looks right at you before she walks away from the pair of you, to stand somewhere else around the tent. She mumbles something under her breath; inaudible to both you and the beautiful woman in front.

"What happened to staying on guard?" She questioned, reaching over to flick some dirt off your shoulder, before resting it there "Hm? What happened to the promise we made about not having little fights with our daughter?"

"I- Uh- We-" You stutter over your words before you give up and place a hand on the back of your neck, scratching it. Not everyday you get scolded by your wife.

Her eyebrow raises at the stutter before she chuckles and leans over to kiss your cheek softly, the hand that's placed on your shoulder moving down to rest on your chest.

"Don't let it happen again." She pats your chest before she removes her body from your form entirely, leaving you with a slight coldness.

Watching her form enter the tent, which you're pretty sure is empty, you glance over to Caitlyn who is posted not too far away. She wouldn't mind if you slipped away for a few minutes right?

You quickly walk in after your wife and scan the empty, "Well this is a bit of an overkill." You state as you walk around, the shuffle of your uniform the only other audible sound.

Jumping at your words Cassandra whips her body around, her form softens once she realises it's only you. Hearing your words she rolls her eyes and walks over to you.

"Counsellor's get spoilt. What can i say, we need the extra safety." She scans over your appearance, truing to find any flaws that need fixing, she opens her mouth to speak again before lips collide with her own.

Her eyes widen in shock before they close and she leans into the kiss... it's when you start kissing down her neck she starts resisting.

"N-Not at work, someone could walk in." You find a sensitive spot on her neck, not allowed to give her any hickeys you rather nibble a bit, hearing a little moan from her mouth is when you pull away.

She twists her head towards the entrance before she relaxes, you chuckle at her realisation not every person in Piltover is going to storm into the room she's in when she's having an intimate moment.

Moving your hands to rest on her waist you lean down to kiss her again, her hands reach up to wrap around your neck, her gloved hands placed at the back of your head.

"Someone can still-"

"Shut up and kiss me."

[mirai-e-jump]

BoyAge Vol.25 ft. Chinen Hidekazu (other pages and translation below)

Publication: November 11, 2024

Chinen Hidekazu-kun, who currently plays the role of Shouma in "Kamen Rider Gavv," makes his first appearance in BoyAge! During the interview, Chinen-kun's genuine kindness and personality was overflowing. Make sure to also check out his mature styling in the beautiful gravure!

Miraculous Encounters

"We'd like to hear about these "miraculous encounters" of yours."

Chinen: I believe I'm here now because of many miracles. First, becoming a Kamen Rider was the greatest miracle. I hadn't done any entertainment activities, but I came to Tokyo from Okinawa saying, "I want to become a Kamen Rider!," and not even a year later, I participated in my first Kamen Rider audition. I think it was an amazing miracle that that's where I was chosen, and I even shocked myself. Then there's the bonds I've made with people. Ever since I was a child, I've been blessed with the teachers and friends that surrounded me at school. Along with everyone affiliated with my agency, all the Rider staff, including the Directors and Producers, understand my traits and are trying to help me grow. I've been blessed by so many people, that I'm confident in saying that I'm a "miracle man."

"Do you ever feel afraid because these miracles are progressing without a hitch?"

Chinen: "Afraid" is certainly one way to describe it, but…..Maybe it's because of all the things I've done up until now? I was told from an early age to "practice good in secret," so perhaps luck is on my side.

"Is that like good deeds that are done without anyone knowing?"

Chinen: Right. That's why it's not something I tell people, but as an example, if flowers on the road were drooping, I'd stop to straighten them up, even if I was in the middle of a run. When I throw away worn out products like a toothbrush, I say "thank you" to it out loud. Because it's such a rare thing, people ask me, "You're still doing that at your age?" (laughs), but it's become a normal thing for me. Sometimes people think it's strange that I talk to flowers, but I think that's also part of my identity. I'm not embarrassed about it, as I do it with confidence.

"Is that something your parents taught you?"

Chinen: Yes! My parents were incredibly strict, as they only allowed me to eat sweets on weekends. The first time I went to a fast food restaurant was when I was in middle school. I haven't walked down any of the "paths" that everyone around me has taken. Shouma, the character I'm currently playing in Kamen Rider Gavv, also came to the human world from another world, so I can relate to his fresh approach to everything.

"You weren't unhappy as a child?"

Chinen: No, that's just how things normally were, but in exchange, I was allowed to do whatever I liked. I was also doing five extracurricular activities at the same time. They didn't buy me gaming consoles or a smartphone, but I now think that it was a good thing. I was able to become interested in alot of things because of that, and in this era of information overload, everything is convenient, but sometimes that makes me feel lonely because of the distance between me and others. And of all the activities I took on, I'm especially grateful for karate, as I'm using it in the action scenes in Kamen Rider.

"How long did you practice karate?"

Chinen: I did it for 4 years, from my third to sixth year in elementary school. I was doing full contact karate, where you can seriously strike your opponent, but I was so small at the time, that I was weak enough to be beaten by girls (laughs). However, there were also advancement tests, and I could actually feel that the more I did them, the better I got, so it was worth doing. Then one day I decided, "I want to play badminton," and so I quit and became devoted to badminton starting from middle school.

"You had so many things you wanted to do (laughs)."

Chinen: That's right (laughs). It's one of my weak points, but I'm interested in alot of things, so I move quickly. Acting was just something I was curious about at first, and I thought, "Ah, I want to do that," so I quit badminton, which I had been playing until my second year of high school, and during Summer vacation, I thought, "Alright, I'll go for an audition." The audition I had during that Summer vacation was the audition for my current agency.

"The gap between your enthusiasm when you start and the honesty when you stop is amazing, don't you think?"

Chinen: Yes (laughs). I was so passionate about badminton, that I thought I'd have to burn myself out before I'd stop. I was able to compete in the Inter High Championships with my seniors, who were one year above me at the time, and since I felt satisfied with things, I was able to switch directions quickly and easily.

"So once you're satisfied, it's onto the next thing, huh?"

Chinen: When I focus on one thing, I can't think of anything else. In the future, I'd like to make use of that in my acting career.

"What will you do if you feel satisfied as an actor?"

Chinen: Don't worry! Acting is something you study your whole life. It's a world with no limits, where you develop until you die, and that's what makes it so appealing, so I think I can continue to be enthusiastic about it. In addition, I can experience various occupations through my roles, so I was able to find the perfect job for myself.

"Yeah, that's good (laughs). Now then, who's the person Chinen-kun wants to meet the most right now?"

Chinen: There's a ton, but I'd like to meet my middle school teachers. Ever since I was in elementary school, I've been closer to my teachers than my friends. I'd go to the staff room or music room to talk with them during breaks. There, I'd always say, "I want to be an actor," and they'd give me encouragement by saying, "If it's Chinen, you can make it." The reason why I was attracted to this world in the first place was because if I appeared on TV, tons of people would be able to watch me through the airwaves, even if they're far away. I hope they're happy that their student is now making appearances. I think it's thanks to my teachers that I was able to enjoy a fulfilling youth. I want them to see me after all these years and see how much I've grown.

"We're sure they'd be overjoyed. Now that you're currently appearing in Gavv, and it's been half a year since filming started, do you feel more relaxed?"

Chinen: I don't have the time to say, "I'm totally OK now!," but I think I've developed alittle bit of enjoyment in my heart. At first, I had no experience, so I was the one receiving advice, but now I can ask by myself, "Can I try doing this?" Other than that, I've also expanded my interests by watching films I wouldn't normally watch as references. I'm having the most fun right now. I've found what I want to create, and I feel that I've finally reached the point where I can enjoy it. I was hesitant at first to talk to the other cast members and guest cast, but now I'm trying to talk to them myself.

"Did you feel any pressure in the beginning?"

Chinen: Yes, it's not completely gone now, but I'm still concerned about the reaction of the viewers every time a broadcast airs, and when we were filming on location in town, the neighborhood children would cheer me on and say, "Go for it, Shouma!" I'm conscious of the fact that I'm participating in a production that's supported by tons of people, so I make sure to never forget that. I'd like to create this show while keeping a certain level of tension.

"Filming a tokusatsu program is hard, isn't it?"

Chinen: I think so. Nevertheless, I spend my time thinking that everything is a positive thing for me, and that I'm living in the best environment possible. It's all been a learning experience, and I appreciate all of it, so when we reach the end, I want to be sent off with pride in my chest. I entered this world on my own because I admired it, so it doesn't bother me at all.

"How do you raise your spirits on days when things aren't going your way?"

Chinen: I think it's important to be properly let down. It'd be a waste of time if I thought, "Oh, alright," and then forgot about it a week later because I was too busy with filming. I think you'll grow faster if you really think about each and every thing and think, "I'll make sure that doesn't happen next time." So, I try to cherish the time I have alone to properly sulk. I love music, and before I started working on Rider, I was the kind of person who always had to have background music playing in my life. However, one of my seniors told me, "It's also important to take time to create silence and listen to your heart," and I thought that was a really good method to follow. I may get really depressed on a certain day, but I can reset myself after a good night's sleep, so I try not to drag it over into the next day!

"Self suggestion is also an option, huh? (laughs). Have your impressions of Shouma changed since playing him?"

Chinen: Shouma's abit different since he's from another world. In the beginning, I was conscious of making the viewers immediately think, "Huh? There's something off about this kid." Things like how only the vibes around Shouma are different. Still, as the episodes progressed, I began to think that I wanted to see Shouma as a human being and began to play him as such. I think that as the second half of the show unfolds, we'll see his humanity, and the parts of him that'll seem to be no different from everyone else's. The Director also changes every two episodes, and their approach to portraying Shouma is different from each other. There's alot of action and highlights in every episode, so I think that's one of the things that'll keep you coming back to the show.

"You mentioned earlier that "the neighborhood children would be cheering you on," but how has the response been since the broadcast started?"

Chinen: It's trending every week, so I'm beyond happy that tons of people are watching and caring about it. It seems that even the little monster toys known as Gochizou are hard to acquire. I'm really happy that there are people who watch the show, find it appealing, and want to "own it." They're so popular, that even we can't buy them (laughs).

"It's a Kamen Rider with a sweets motif. Every time we finish watching an episode, we want to eat something sweet."

Chinen: That makes me happy. I also heard that girls are watching the show because of the sweets. The visuals are also colorful and pleasing to the eyes, but there's a part of the show's story that's abit "bitter." Since the broadcast started, the atmosphere on set has changed again. We got off to a good start, so everyone's even more enthusiastic. I hope you'll continue to support us as you've been doing, and to see this through to the ending.

[letmerideitchris]

𐬺𝐕𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐𐬺

summary: Chris matt and nick get a new videographer, she is funny, smart and pretty, basically everything Chris could ever want in a girl. Chris finds it impossible to not fall for her…

Warnings: angst, yelling, cursing, mentions of killing (in a joking way)

Wc: 1009

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏

“Chris would you like to tell us what the fuck we just walked in on?” matt says sternly

Y/n had previously left the house out of embarrassment to what nick and matt had walked into.

“does anyone know where some bleach is? My eyes need some” nick says looking around

“guys you're being dramatic, I'm sorry i couldn’t resist, she’s everything i have ever wanted” chris says as he looks down at the floor

“that is the least of our problems right now, shes meant to be coming over tomorrow to film a vlog for us, that is going to be so awkward thanks to you dick face” nick says hitting chris’ shoulder

“yeah chris, you need to sort it out and apologize because you are runing it for us”

“but I'm not sorry and i am quite looking forward to seeing her tomorrow even though it will be awkward…” Chris says slightly smiling at the thought of her

“im not sure if shes looking forward to seeing you, she just ran away” matt says looking at the open front door y/n previously left through.

“chris you make me want to kill you, is it hard being this dumb?”

“guys can you show some sort of sympathy? Like imagine the girl of your dreams is actually interested in you and then your brothers walk in on you fucking and she runs out of embarrassment?” chris says

“No i actually cannot imagine that i am gay if you forgot dumb shit” nick says in a duh tone

“you guys are ridiculous” chris mumbles annoyed as he makes his way downstairs to his bedroom.

The next morning chris is laying in bed half asleep, wishing she was beside him. But hes quickly taken out of his trance when he hears the doorbell, the sound he was dreading yesterday but wishing upon now.

“i’ll get it!” matt yells from upstairs

But when he turns to the door chris is already unlocking it

Nick is sitting on the couch with an unamused face, when matt looks over at him “look at this desperate dickhead”

“hes never gonna learn, fuck sake” nick eyerolls

When chris opens the door, y/n is taken aback by his face. y/n looks down at the floor and says quietly “oh… hi chris”

chris’ smile quickly fades as he hears her tone and realizes his excitement isn't mutual.

“hi y/n, come upstairs, can I get you a water or?-”

“uh no i should be good..thanks..”

Chris takes a seat on the couch wondering why y/n is acting so weird towards him. What did he do wrong? Did he say something bad?

The boys all give y/n a hug greeting her, besides chris.

“matt would you mind getting me some water? I’m really thirsty?” y/n says looking at matt

Chris looks over at her with a confused look across his face

“yeah of course, nick can you come with me, i think these two need to talk it out..” matt lowers his tone at the end so only nick can hear his last comment

Chris and y/n are both sitting on opposite sides of the couch looking at each other waiting for one to speak up.

“y/n, whats wrong?” chris speaks up

“have a think chris, have a think.”

Chris is using all of his brain and is trying to peice together what could be wrong. And then something clicks in his mind and realizes what has happened. He looks up with a concerned look on his face

“is this about yesterday, y/n? If it is im really sor-”

y/n cuts him off “chris do you not realize what we did and how this will affect our relationship and my job”

Chris is shocked by what she said “wait so your saying you regret what we did? I-I really thought we had something, something that would last, something you would care about” he says as he raises his voice and stands up angrily from the couch.

“no i don't regret it, that's not what I'm saying. I just think we should've been more careful or waited a bit longer” y/n says avoiding eye contact

“so you do regret it huh?” he starts to walk off then she grabs him by the arm

“no, chris just calm down i am not done-”

“well i sure am, get out of my house please”

y/n opens her purse quxckly, chris is standing there waiting for something that could save this relationship but instead it is something that will change their lives forever.

y/n slides a positive pregnancy test along the coffee table.

“as i was saying, we should've been more careful, should've waited longer, not saying i regret it.” she says shaking with tears forming on her waterline

She closes her purse, gets up, looks into the kitchen to see matt and nick both staring in such a state of shock. Tears start rolling down her face as she looks back at chris’ guilty and worried face. She wipes her tears and continues to leave.

The door slams

“i could choke you to death right now chris, not much is stopping me” nick says furiously as he follows y/n out of the house

Chris is still standing there in disbelief staring at that positive test.

“chris, ill get you some water, all you can do right now is sit down and try and relax yourself. Don't text anyone and don't listen to what nick is saying even though he is right, i know you would be really stressed right now and nothing he has to say will help.” matt says patting chris on the back gently

chris sits down on the couch shaking with tears falling down his face onto his pants, he can't seem to look away from the test. Regret and guilt clouds his mind and all he is thinking about is y/n.

“m-matt” chris stutters, matt turns back around to face chris, you can tell even matt is stressed out

“i, i am going to be a d - dad”

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @riggysworld @chrissturnsss @sophand4n4

@chrispycremedonut

[p-artsypants]

Fiddle Me This

Ao3 | FF.net

Hamish, former chief of the Shivering Shores, is coming to Berk and has requested Hiccup play some songs he's written over the years. The problem? No one else knew Hiccup could fiddle, and he's never performed for anyone.

The idea for this is completely self-indulgent and comes from the fact that Alexander Rybak does the Norwegian voice for Hiccup. He wrote two songs for the series, including one specifically for Toothless. I can’t just sit here knowing that and NOT write a fic, I mean COME ON. Also, in the Episode with Garf, Hiccup’s song was about Toothless, and he was really enthusiastic about it, making me think he wrote it himself. 

This is not historically accurate, but neither is the source material. 

Set somewhere during RTTE, before Blindsided.

—

Things had thankfully been slow at the Edge. The Hunters hadn’t been seen in a while, probably regrouping or strategizing. But the anxiety of that unknown was quickly pushed aside with a Terror Mail from Berk. 

“Alright gang,” Hiccup stated that morning. “Who’s feeling homesick?” 

Fishlegs sheepishly raised his hand, but the rest just kind of looked at each other. 

“Well, you’re in luck. We’re heading back to Berk for a little vacation! The Shiver Shores are coming in a week, and they’ll be in Berk for three days. Hamish’s oldest son Hagar has taken over as chief.” 

“Is Hamish okay?” Fishlegs asked, as that was the usual reason a tribe had a new chief.  

“As far as I know, he’s still alive. Sounds like his health is declining and it was getting hard to keep up with all the duties. Hel, it’s hard when you’re not sick,” Hiccup muttered that last bit to himself. 

“When do we leave?” Asked Astrid. 

“I’m leaving today,” Hiccup rested his hands on his waist. “Dad specifically asked me to come early to help with some preparations. You guys are welcome to head back on Frigg’s day. Or earlier, if you want. But I’d like someone to stay on the Edge as long as possible.” 

“Sweet! Unsupervised vacation!” Tuffnut high fived his sister. 

“Uh, no. If you’re staying, you’re doing your jobs. That means patrolling!”  

“Boo!” 

“Killjoy!” 

“What could your dad possibly need you so early for?” Snotlout asked, insult implied.

Hiccup’s face went red, satisfying Snotlout, but the blush was for a totally different reason. “Hamish…specifically requested…I play the fiddle.” 

There was a pause. “You have a week to learn the fiddle?” Asked Tuff. 

Hiccup sighed. “No, I have a week to brush up on the fiddle.” 

Then everyone yelled in unison, “You can fiddle!?” 

He chuckled awkwardly. “Yeeeeep.”  

“Since when?!” Snotlout demanded. “I’ve known you since we were in diapers, and I’ve never heard you play a single note.”

“Yeah, but how well did you know me before the Red Death?” 

“People talk, Hiccup. You’re not that good at keeping secrets.” 

“And the Nightfury that spent three months in the woods?” 

“A notable exception.”

Hiccup awkwardly played with his hands, avoiding eye contact. “I’ve been playing since … well, since I was able to. My mother played. We had her fiddle at the house, and when I was little, my dad asked if I wanted to learn how to play, explaining that mom had. I was really enthusiastic back then, and so when we went to visit the Shivering Shores a few times a year, he had me take lessons with Hamish.” 

“Which is why he requested you play now,” Astrid gathered. 

“Yeeeep.” 

“So, are you good?” Asked Tuff. 

“Oh no, I’m terrible. I’m thinking that I’ll just play with the band. Maybe quietly so they drown me out.” 

“I’m sure you’ll be great, Hiccup,” Astrid said fondly. “When was the last time you played?” 

He scrunched up his lips in thought. “For anyone? Never. Unless you count Hamish. Or Toothless.” He smiled over at his dragon. “But I sometimes play in my room or at the forge if I need to think something through and need to do something with my hands. I didn’t take it with me when we came out here.” 

“So a few months.” 

“Give or take.” 

Tuffnut snapped his fingers. “The Fiddler on the Roof!” 

“Excuse me?” 

“What? You never heard the rumor of the Fiddler on the Roof? Ugh! It makes so much sense now!” 

“What are you talking about?” Hiccup pressed. 

“Okay okay, for years people have been talking about a mysterious fiddler in the village. His music carries over the rooftops, so people assumed he was up high…kinda like the chief’s house on the hill?!” Tuffnut nudged him. 

“Th-that can’t be right. It must be someone else.” 

Fishlegs pointed out, “no one else on the island plays a fiddle though. You said it yourself that you had to take lessons from Hamish.” 

“Yeah, but Silent Sven plays the nyckelharpa and Sigurd plays the Hurdy-Gurdy. What if it was one of them?” 

“Nope, not a nyckelharpa,” said Tuff. 

“And definitely not a hurdy-gurdy!” Said Ruff. 

“Besides, they play in the Great Hall all the time, we know what they sound like,” said Fishlegs. 

“And it’s definitely a Fiddler on that Roof.” 

Hiccup’s face went even more red, and he covered it with his hands. “Oh gods…people have been hearing me for years!” 

“That’s the cool part, H,” said Tuff. “The Fiddler is said to be otherworldly in nature, and some even thought he might be a spirit of music himself.” 

“Okay, now you’re just messing with me.” 

“Am I?” Tuff wiggled his fingers. 

“Look, don’t get too excited, okay? I’ll show my dad where I’m at and he might agree to have a private performance with Hamish. I would never want to subject the village to hear my…” he rolled his hand, looking for the word. 

“Screeching?”

“‘Fork-on-dinnerplate’?”

“Dying cat?” 

“Yeah,” Hiccup said flatly, “One of those.”

“You know, Hiccup,” said Snotlout. “I never saw you as the type to be musically inclined. But it suits you, I must say. Someone’s gotta play the tales of my awesome battles.” 

“And the fact that you sing a solo every Snoggletog doesn’t count because…?” 

“Duh, because it’s Snoggletog, a season of giving. And I give the gift of my beautiful tenor.” He gestured to his throat.

“Right,” He sighed. “Anyway, I’m going to get packed. Anyone else coming now?”

“I will,” said Astrid. 

“Me too!” Said Fishlegs. 

Hiccup looked meaningfully at the Twins and Snotlout. 

“What?” Asked Snot. “Yeah, we’ll behave! We’ll even patrol! We’re mature adults that don’t need a babysitter.” 

“There was only one word in that sentence that was true,” Hiccup said, rolling his eyes and heading out. 

Tuff yelled back, “Which one was it? Was it ‘that’?” 

An hour later, Astrid, Fishlegs, and Hiccup were packed and ready to head back to Berk. One last chastising for the stragglers, and they were off. 

“So…” Fishlegs began, as their trip was underway. “Can I ask more questions about the fiddle?” He squeaked. 

Hiccup sighed. “Yeah, I guess. At least I know you two won’t make fun of me for it.” 

“Never, Hiccup,” Astrid assured. “I can’t even sing, let alone play an instrument. I bet the muttonheads back at the Edge certainly can’t.” 

“Not that I’ve ever heard,” he shrugged. 

“What songs can you play?” 

Hiccup winced. “Not many. I learned how to play some traditional stuff when I was younger, and when I nailed those down and got tired of them, I started doing my own thing.” 

“…what’s your own thing?” Astrid asked. 

“Well, I uh…I made up my own songs. Not really writing anything down, but developing a melody I liked…putting some words to it. That kind of thing.” 

“You should perform those!” Said Fishlegs, enthusiastically. “I bet people would want to hear a Hiccup original over the same thing we hear all the time!” 

He scoffed. “No, you got it all wrong. They aren’t good, Fishlegs! Like…I know you come up with little songs about Meatlug, right?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Would you perform those in front of the tribe?” 

“Ha! No way! Not unless Meatlug was having a panic attack and I needed to calm her down.” He laid on his dragon, giving her a hug. “Then in that case, no crowd could stop me.” 

“So did you play a lot?” Asked Astrid. “You said you would play to keep your hands busy.” 

“Quite a bit,” he admitted. “It’s kind of fun to play, and the music kinda helps me think. But I’m usually not thinking about the fiddle when I’m playing, so I’m sure it sounds like a bunch of random notes just sliding around.” 

“But if you practice a lot, it shouldn’t sound that bad,” she reasoned. 

“Oh, you’d be surprised…” 

The conversation changed then, and they talked about other things for the rest of the flight. Dragon training, the Hunters, there was even an hour long argument about who would win in a fight between three Flightmares and ten Speed Stingers. 

Eventually, they reached Berk right before dinner. Gobber and Stoick were waiting for them and greeted them warmly. 

“Evening son! Have a good flight?” 

Hiccup slid off Toothless, stretching his back. “Good weather, fun company, no complaints.” 

“You know…I got your fiddle out for you. It’s on your desk.” 

Hiccup barked a laugh. “That didn’t take long. I thought for sure you’d wait to bring it up until after dinner.” 

“Well, the others want to start practice after dinner,” Stoick argued. “Thought you might want a little time to make sure she’s all ready to play.” 

“Others?” 

“Oh you know, Sven, Sigurd, Hackjaw, Frida, Hilda…and Gobber wants to play the pan flute.” 

“I love playing the pan flute!” The man cheered. 

“Well, I’ll need all the practice I can get. I’m really hoping to just pretend to play, and let the others kind of drown me out.” 

Stoick gave him an incredulous look. “What are you talking about son? Why would they need to drown you out?” 

“Dad, I’m not good,” he chuckled humorlessly. 

“Aw this hogwash again? You’re a fine fiddler!” 

“A damn fine fiddler!” Gobber added. 

“Thanks but—“ 

“No buts!” Stoick interrupted. “It’s been decided. Through our letters, Hamish and I have been talking. I told him about the songs you wrote.” 

“You didn’t.” 

“I did! And he’s so excited! He wants to hear all four!” 

“DAD!” 

“I want to hear ‘em properly too! I like that one about the fairytale, that love song? Oh it gets me in the heart. Makes me think of your mother…” he said wistfully.  

“Dad!” Hiccup grabbed his face in horror. Feeling more and more sick as the story went on. 

Gobber said, “I asked if the one that’s like, ‘come fly with me! Oh whoa, oh whoa’ was in the line up, because that’s the one I like.” 

“You too?” He gaped at Gobber. “You’ve been listening?” 

“The backroom to the forge is only separated by a cloth lad, not exactly soundproof.”

“And then the one you wrote for Toothless,” Stoick suggested. 

Hiccup furrowed his brow, he’d actually come up with a dozen little songs about Toothless. “Which one?” 

“Oh you played it for a week straight during our first Snoggletog with the dragons! You built that tail for Toothless, and you were so heartbroken that he was gone…” 

“Oh Thor, that one?” 

“It was so sweet, lad! No need to be embarrassed.” 

“Ugh! And dare I ask about the last one?” 

Stoick gave him this weirdly proud smile, “Oh you know which one I’m talkin’ about.” 

“If I did, I wouldn’t be asking,” Hiccup droned. 

Stoick glanced at Astrid, before leaning in to speak into Hiccup’s ear. 

Fishlegs and Astrid had to assume it was beyond embarrassing as Hiccup’s face flushed a vibrant red and his eyes went wide. “You heard that?” 

Stoick giggled, “how could I not? You sang with so much passion!”

“I think I’m going to be sick.” 

Stoick patted his shoulder. “Everyone gets a little stage fright, son.”

“What about stage paralysis?” He asked. 

“We’ll have an hour of music during dinner on the first night. The rest of the band has already figured out all the other music to play. Now, all they need is to hear your songs so they best know how to accompany you.” 

“And the songs that they’re playing?” 

“You know them. And you know how to make it up if you don’t.” 

“You, sir, are putting way too much faith in me.” 

“No. You,” he poked Hiccup’s chest, “aren’t putting enough faith in yourself.” 

Hiccup rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’m the best fiddler on Berk.” 

Fishlegs squeaked, “Aren’t you the only—”

“That’s my point, Fish!” He scratched his head. “Look, I’ll see you guys around. I’m gonna go…fiddle with the fiddle.” 

Gobber chuckled, “an oldie, but a goodie.” 

As Astrid watched Hiccup and Toothless depart up to the chief’s house, “He’s really good then, chief?”

“Aye! As he is with all his artistic endeavors.”

“The Halls of Valhalla are filled with bards that wished they played as well as him!” Gobber declared. 

“So why does he think he’s bad?” Asked Fishlegs. “How can he not notice?” 

“Well, you’ve got to look at it from his perspective. Hiccup has always compared himself to others. I’m at fault for that, as well as most in the village. We always told him he wasn’t as good as others at fighting. But he’s taken it to the level of all his skills. You think he’s talented at drawing and smithing, right?” 

“Absolutely.”

“But to him, he’s ‘just good enough’ because he’s compared himself to others and decided he’s not as good. I think that’s why he’s so gung-ho about Dragon Training. No one else has ever befriended a Nightfury, therefore, no one to compare to.”

“Wow,” Astrid said sadly. “I never thought of it that way before.” 

“With his fiddle, he learned from Hamish, who’s a fantastic fiddler. Hiccup could never quite get the technique the man had. The only other comparisons are Sven and Sigurd, and they’re quite good too. But their instruments sound different from Hiccup’s. He can’t do what they do, therefore, he’s bad.” 

“Now I’m depressed,” said Fishlegs. “I never knew this about Hiccup.” 

“Oh don’t let it get your skivvies in a twist. Hiccup’s drive to find his place in the village is what drove him to Toothless afterall, right? And look at how he’s doing now!” 

Distantly, Astrid could hear it. Someone playing the scales on the fiddle, the notes sliding into place. A note played alone, over and over, and then the next. 

“Ah, sounds like it needs some tuning,” Stoick observed. “That’ll bother him all night.” 

She wanted to listen. She wanted to sneak over and just watch and listen. But that wouldn’t be fair to him if he was so self-conscious. Maybe this will get him out of his shell, and he’ll be more willing to share his music with her.  

Astrid’s parents were having dinner up at the Great Hall, and she happily joined them, catching up with them about all the things that had been happening at the Edge. 

As she ate, she watched as Stoick and Hiccup arrived, bowls in hand. Hiccup wore a wooden case on his back, attached with a leather strap. 

His fiddle.

It was one thing to have him tell them about it, but to see it…

Then again, this was still just the case. It would be completely different once he was actually holding it and playing it. 

He set the case down on a table over by the wall, where she could see other instrument cases sitting and waiting for practice. Then he went and sat with his father at the head table. 

“You’ve been away from the boy for an hour and you can’t take your eyes off of him,” Phlegma Hofferson teased. 

Astrid whirled around, red faced, and hushed her mother. “Don’t say stuff like that!” 

Her father laughed. “Oh, like everyone doesn’t remember you planting a big ol’ wet kiss on him after the dragon war.” 

“That was years ago!” She hissed. 

“And you’ve only grown fonder of him, no?” 

“Ugh.” Astrid’s head smacked lightly on the table. “You two are impossible.” 

“We are? Sure dear. But when are you two just going to make it official? You know we’re ready to pay your dowry whenever Stoick’s got the bride price.” 

Astrid rubbed her temples. “Look—you’re not…totally wrong about how I feel…but I haven’t said anything, and I’m waiting on Hiccup to make the move.” 

“Dear, you’ll be old by then.” 

“Give him some credit! He’s got a lot on his mind.” 

“I hope he’s got you on his mind too,” Phlegma smirked. “Have you tried seducing him?”

“Mother!” Astrid damn near screamed. 

“Sorry dear, sorry. We’ll drop it for now.” Phlegma and Axel shared a smug look. 

Astrid doubted they were done with the topic for this trip. If Hiccup was going to be busy in rehearsals most days, then she’d have to find a way to avoid her parents. 

Maybe Fishlegs would be up for some fun instead of spending it in the library? 

After dinner, Astrid hung around the Hall, even as her parents left. 

The rest of the band was setting up. Sigurd and Sven had their strings, Hackjaw had his drums, Frida had the lute, Hilda on the horn, Bard on the mandolin, Bucket had a shaker, and Gobber had his pan flute.

And Hiccup was just sitting by them, not making any move to his case. In fact, he kept glancing around to the other non-band folks in the Hall, waiting for them to leave. 

Then his eyes met hers.

She waved and smiled. 

He ducked his head sheepishly. 

Astrid felt a pang in her chest. It was so heartbreaking to see Hiccup this embarrassed. It was almost like the old days, before Toothless. 

Toothless.   

The dragon wasn’t in the Great Hall. He was probably frolicking with the other dragons, or just with Stormfly and Meatlug. But if anyone was going to give him the courage to do this, it was Toothless! 

Astrid got up and went to find him. Though, it didn’t take long at all. He was sprawled out on the grass on the hill. 

“Pst! Toothless!” 

He perked up, looking at her, ears up at attention. 

“Hiccup’s inside!” She pointed. 

He leapt to his feet and trotted over. 

“Now,” she told him, “he’s going to be working hard and practicing music with the others inside, but he’s nervous about it, so you’re going to support him, okay?” 

Toothless was the smartest dragon she knew. Sometimes with the looks he gave, she swore he was going to open his mouth and speak perfect Norse. Right now was one of those times. He gave her this look, like he knew exactly what she was saying and what needed to happen. He nudged her arm with his nose and then plodded into the Great Hall and over to Hiccup.

Hiccup lit up when he saw his friend, and greeted him with a chin scratch. 

Toothless laid at his feet, paws crossed elegantly. 

Hiccup chuckled, and then looked over to her, still standing in the doorway. 

Astrid gave him the thumbs up and a wide reassuring smile. 

Hiccup returned it, though not as confident. But he did get up and go to the fiddle case. 

Astrid decided to leave and give him his privacy. Toothless was all the support he needed right now, and anymore attention would just make him crumble. 

A few minutes later, Hilda put a sign on the door. ‘Practice in session, do not disturb.’

So now it was a waiting game. Hiccup obviously wasn’t going to give out any sneak previews. Though she did try to keep an eye on him. 

—

As the week went on, she noticed happily that his demeanor had changed quite a bit. He stood up straighter when he went into practice, and he talked freely with the band, like he was one of them instead of an intruder. 

Astrid wondered if someone had said something to him, or if just having Toothless around was making a difference. 

The band practiced for a few hours after dinner every night. Even with the doors closed, the faintest music could be heard. Astrid didn’t know enough about instruments to know if she was hearing a fiddle or nyckelharpa or hurdy-gurdy. 

She actually wasn’t really sure what those last two were. 

During the day, Hiccup was mostly helping with preparations. She often saw him helping someone or another in the town. 

But there were a few hours a day where he couldn’t be found. He wasn’t at his father’s house or the Great Hall.  

“Hey Chief,” she greeted. “Have you seen your son around?” 

“Nope,” he smiled. “He’s gone off to find a place to practice.” 

“He’s really taking this fiddle performance to heart, isn’t he?” 

“Sure is,” he continued smiling, seemingly proud at the thought. “Hiccup’s a viking, though he might protest. He’s as bullheaded and stubborn as the lot of us. When he doesn’t want to do something, he fights and protests the whole way. But when he finds a reason to want to do something, he dives in, head first, and puts his whole being into it.” 

“Yeah,” Astrid agreed. “I’ve seen that. And he’s good about finding a reason to do something.” 

“We’re friends with the Shivering Shores, our alliance isn’t in any trouble. But Hiccup knows I’m good friends with Hamish, and he has a lot of respect for the man. I think it might break his heart if he disappointed him.” 

“Hiccup has always valued other’s opinions,” she supposed. 

“And…” Stoick drawled, a keen smile on his face. “I happen to know one of the songs he’s got is a love song. Maybe he wants it just right to convey a message?” 

Astrid flushed red. “T-t-to who?” 

“Ah, I’m joking,” he patted her back, though the smile didn’t go away. 

Stoick had read her like a book. He knew there was something going on between them, even if that ‘something’ had been in a weird limbo for years. 

She looked away, shyly. “Well, anyways, I’m excited to see him perform.” 

“Aye, me too, lass. Should be memorable!” 

—-

Snotlout and the Twins arrived the next day, one day before the Shivering Shores’ arrival. Despite what Astrid was expecting, they seemed to have forgotten all about Hiccup’s fiddle secret, as no one brought it up. 

They had dinner together in the Great Hall, which was now decorated with fresh flowers and garland. 

“So,” Hiccup began, sitting down with a plate of chicken and veggies. “How’s the Edge? Everything still quiet?” 

“You think anything is quiet with these dunderheads?” Snotlout jabbed a thumb over at the twins. “But as for our enemies, we didn’t see anything.” 

“Did the twins cause any—”

“The answer is yes, and you don’t want to know. We’ll talk about it on the way back, I already did my part.” 

Hiccup sighed. “Well, thank you, Snotlout. I knew I could trust you to watch the Edge while we were away.” 

Snotlout sat up straight at this praise and started to smile. “I did do a good job, didn’t I? Hey, maybe you shouldn’t even worry about coming back to the Edge. Your dad seemed really stressed and you should—” 

“Nice try, but I’m definitely going back.” 

Snotlout folded his hands behind his head. “Can’t blame me for trying.” 

“How goes the fiddling practice?” Asked Fishlegs. 

Astrid flinched heavily, ready to punch him. 

“Oh yeah!” Said Snotlout. “You’ve got a little recital coming up, don’t you?” 

“Hiccup: Live in Concert!” Said Tuffnut, enthusiastically. “I’ve been thinking about it all week!” 

“Tomorrow during dinner.” Hiccup nodded, looking sheepish. “I think it’ll be okay. I’m really nervous, but…I found a really good tactic to distract myself.” 

“And that is…?”

“I play to Toothless, specifically. He really likes music, and almost dances to it. It’s kind of adorable. So I just watch him.” 

Astrid tried not to seem too proud. After all, it was her that encouraged Toothless to join that first rehearsal. 

“So what are ya gonna play?” Tuffnut asked. “Silvard had a Little Yak?” 

Hiccup rolled his eyes, but retorted smugly, “You’ll just have to wait and see.” 

“Did your dad convince you to play the songs you wrote?” Fishlegs asked, again making Astrid want to hit him. 

Hiccup sighed. “Yep.” 

“Hold on,” said Snot. “You wrote songs?” 

“Sure. Didn’t you write a few for Garf?” 

“That’s totally different,” Snotlout laughed. “I never expected to perform them for anyone. Oh this is rich. I can’t wait until you see what we have in store for you tomorrow!” 

Hiccup felt pale. “Wh-what are you talking about?” 

“Nothing much,” said Tuff. “Just a little surprise.” 

“You’ll love it,” insisted Ruffnut. 

“Somehow, I doubt that completely.” 

—

Great ships with black sails arrived at the docks the next day. Hiccup stood with Stoick to greet the guests, while Astrid stood a little ways away for emotional support. Hiccup had foregone the leather armor, as requested by his father, and went back to his fur vest. His hair was still a mess, despite combing it for twenty minutes. It was probably stuck in place for ever thanks to Toothless’ saliva.

Hamish, a man as big as Stoick, disembarked first, using a cane to get around. “Stoick! My old friend!” 

“Good to see you, Hamish! Have a nice trip?” 

“Oh yes, very peaceful. Ever since your boy made peace with the dragons, sailin’ around has been a breeze! Of course, that doesn’t hurt.” He pointed at the three dragons leashed to the ship, having pulled it. They were all getting fish and scratches from the rest of the crew. 

Hiccup smiled proudly. 

“And look at you, boy-o!” Hamish praised, spotting him. “Shot up like a tree! I wager you’ll be taller than your old man one day.” 

“Wouldn’t that be something?” Hiccup chuckled. 

“Well you’ve grown into a fine young man, are your fiddling skills set to match?” 

Hiccup’s smile faltered. “Hamish, I’m going to do my best, but I don’t think I’ll ever be as good as you.” 

“Hiccup…” Stoick reprimanded. 

“You aren’t me, lad!” Hamish said joyfully. “I could never tame a dragon like you did! Let alone smith a tail! You have a lot of skills that you’ve honed over the years. Your father just said you never gave up the instrument, so I want to see what you’ve got!” 

That seemed to relieve Hiccup more than any other words had up until now. He smiled genuinely and said, “thanks for understanding.” 

Hagar, the new chief of the Shivering Shores disembarked a moment later and came to stand by his dad. He was just as large, but had no gray in his beard. He greeted Hiccup and Stoick with a wide smile.

“Incoming dragons!” The lookout called, pointing out over the sea. 

Hiccup and Astrid narrowed their eyes, looking at the two dragons coming in. 

“Is that…?” Astrid asked. 

“Oh gods,” Hiccup moaned. 

Before they even landed, a voice called boisterously. “BROTHER!” 

“H-hey Dagur…” Hiccup waved awkwardly. 

“Dagur of the Berserkers?” Asked Hamish. “What a pleasant surprise! What are you doing here?” 

“Hamish! You’re looking well!” Dagur and Shattermaster landed at the docks while Heather landed back by Astrid. “How are you feeling?” 

“Oh I’m doing pretty good. Some days are better than others. Been having a lot of great days leading up to this trip!” 

“Great to hear!” 

“So…what brings you to Berk?” Hiccup asked, dread churning in his gut. He had been on edge since Snotlout and the Twins said they had a surprise for him. 

Dagur laughed. “Isn’t it obvious?! We’re here to see your fiddling prowess!” 

Hiccup smacked his forehead. “Those muttonheads…” 

“Yes, Heather and I came to check in on the Edge a few days ago, and Snothat told us all about what you were doing! Why didn’t you ever tell me you played the fiddle?” 

“He didn’t tell any of us,” said Astrid. “Apparently, he’s not very good.” She smirked. 

“So he thinks!” Said Stoick. 

“Alright, alright. I should have known,” Hiccup groaned. “It’s fine. The more the merrier, right?” He smiled, but it was wobbly. 

 “And of course it’s always a pleasure to see the Shivering Shores folks, especially after we confirmed our alliance.” He shook Hamish and Hagar’s hands. 

“Glad to have Berserker Island back in our good graces,” said Hagar. 

“It's all thanks to my sweet baby brother!” Dagur grabbed Hiccup and pulled him into a side hug. “Showed me the error of my ways. Converted me into a real dragon lover. United me with my long lost sister! Oh, such a big and loving heart! The heart of an artist and musician!” 

Hiccup wheezed. “You’re too kind, Dagur.” 

“Brother?” Asked Hagar with an amused smile. 

“Honorary title,” Hiccup wheezed again. 

It seemed like Dagur’s praise reframed his arrival to Hagar and Hamish, and they looked a lot more relaxed and amused. 

“We’ll only stay tonight,” said Heather. “To watch Hiccup’s performance and give our dragons some time to rest. This is your vacation, after all. We didn’t mean to intrude.” 

“Tonight is the best part, anyway!” Said Hagar. “Feasting! Music! Dancing! And barrels of mead!” He gestured to their ship, where several barrels were stacked in a pyramid. 

Stoick cheered gleefully. 

“Perfect,” said Hiccup, “drunk ears are happy ears.” 

Astrid elbowed him. 

—-

Dinner time came around far too quickly for Hiccup’s liking, as with most things dreaded. 

The band was setting up in front of a support pillar. The tables were arranged in a semi circle around them, with enough space in front to move around. Directly to Hiccup’s left was the head table, where Hamish, Hagar, and his father sat. Next to them, with a front row view, was the table with his friends. They all watched eagerly as Hiccup moved around and talked with the band. 

Toothless laid at the front of the table, on his absolute best behavior. His eyes were rounded and soft, as he occasionally stuck his tongue out in excitement. 

People were still milling around, getting drinks and sharing food. 

No introductions were made yet, no commencement speeches, but Hiccup had his fiddle in hand and walked up to the front of the band. The players watched him, waiting for a queue.

Hiccup nodded his head, put the fiddle to his chin and started a fast paced one note sprint, literally sounding like someone was running. Then Hackjaw came in with several heavy beats of his drum. Then the rest of the band joined, filling the hall with boisterous music. 

And to Astrid’s disappointment, mostly drowning out Hiccup. He had taken a few steps back to stand with the group. He had his head bowed, and eyes clenched shut tightly as he played. Occasionally, she thought she could hear that sprinting note from him, but the song seemed to highlight the other members of the band. Frida had an incredible performance on the lute, plucking the notes and a dizzying speed. Same with each member, all having a unique solo to introduce their sound. The band played the same driving melody in the background while Hiccup stayed playing that same note.

The song came to an end, and the crowd was full of cheers. 

Hiccup sighed in relief and shared a smile with the other players. They all gave him thumbs up. 

“Looks like everyone has found their seats,” said Stoick, his voice booming over the chattering crowd. 

Everyone grew silent, ready to listen. 

“Tonight, we welcome our dear friends from the Shivering Shores, and celebrate their new era with them. Hagar has shown to be a very capable leader, and will surely follow in his father’s legacy.” 

A cheer. 

“We honor our friendship with the Shivering Shores, and we’re grateful for the many years Hamish worked with us. As a thank you, we have a special performance prepared. Specially requested from Hamish himself, my son Hiccup will be joining the band tonight on the fiddle.” 

Another cheer went up through the crowd, and Astrid swore she heard people say “no way” and “he’s so much like his mother” and even “is there anything he can’t do?” 

It made Astrid’s heart swell with pride. 

“Many of you older folks may remember that my dear Valka was a fiddler. Well, as a little boy, Hiccup picked up the instrument and got his instruction from Hamish himself, the best fiddler in the archipelago.” 

“We’ll see about that!” Hamish laughed. 

Stoick grinned. “Hiccup has prepared several unique songs for your listening pleasure this evening. Take it away whenever you’re ready, son.” 

Hiccup had his awkward ‘I know I messed up but please don’t be mad at me’ smile on his face as he shuffled closer to the front. 

He shrugged and said, “sorry in advance.” 

The rest of the band scoffed.

He put the fiddle on his chin, taking several deep breaths. He glanced across the room, lingering on Astrid’s face for a moment. 

She gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up. 

Then he looked at Toothless, and actually started to smile a little. 

He turned to the band, and mouthed something to them, though she couldn’t tell what. 

Then he pinched his eyes shut, and set his mouth in a thin line…

And he attacked the fiddle, the bow ripping across the strings with the fervor to make sparks fly if they could. His eyebrows twitched and his nostrils flared as the notes came out rapid fire. His entire body moved with the effort, like it took every fiber of his being to make this wonderful, soul-filling sound. 

“Holy—” Snotlout barked. 

He briefly turned to the band and bobbed his head to bring them in, and a joyful bouncing beat filled the hall. People started stomping and clapping. 

Then the fiddle slowed to a less intense melody, and Hiccup opened his mouth. 

“Years ago, when I was younger, I kinda liked a girl I knew.

Thought she was mine and we were sweethearts. That was then, but then it's true…”

The music cut out, except for a few plucks of the fiddle strings. 

Then Hiccup belted out, while continuing to play. 

“I'm in love with a fairytale! Even though it hurts…

'Cause I don't care if I lose my mind, I'm already cursed!” 

He returned to that intense dance with the bow, his heel slamming back on the floor with each beat of the drum. He twisted and jerked, like he was fighting with the music. 

And he was winning.

“Every day, between the fighting, I could have sworn we fell in love.

No one else could make me sadder, but no one else could lift me high above!

I don't know what I was doing, she let me go, we grew apart…

Nowadays, I cannot brave her…” 

He dared to smile.

“But when I do, we'll get a brand new start!” 

He pulled on the strings, a high note that conveyed heartache. Astrid felt it in her chest.

“I'm in love with a fairytale, even though it hurts,

'Cause I don't care if I lose my mind, I'm already cursed…”

The band cut out, suddenly, leaving Hiccup to battle the notes on his own. His fingers flew in a flurry, matching the cutting of the bow. Hiccup set his jaw, garnering the strength for the end. A few slower, growing notes, and he sang again.

“She's a fairytale, yeah! Even though it hurts…

'Cause I don't care if I lose my mind, I'm already cursed!” 

Astrid had no idea he could sing like that, or even hit that note. It struck her to the core, and she sat breathless and stunned as he played his last battle hymn and ended with a flourish. 

The hall was deafeningly loud with cheers as Hiccup finally, finally opened his eyes to look around. He seemed surprised as he met everyone’s boisterous cheers. 

Dagur launched from his seat and ran to Hiccup, grabbing him in a hug that lifted him off the floor. He laughed maniacally, and Astrid could hear him damn near yell, “that was amazing, brother! The best song I’ve ever heard!” 

Hiccup looked kind of pale, she noticed. 

Once Dagur set him back on his feet, Hiccup used his shoulder to stand upright. 

“Thank you!” He called to the crowd still freaking out. 

“Alright, settle down,” Stoick called, laughter in his voice. 

Once it got quieter, Hiccup said, “thank you, very much. I wasn’t expecting that kind of reception. I uh…I have some more songs for you, but I’m feeling kind of light headed, so I’m going to sit down for a minute.” 

Astrid patted the empty spot beside her, she saved just for him. 

He slid into it, awkwardly smiling. “Hey, how’s it going?” 

“What the hell, Haddock?!” Snotlout shouted. 

“Aww, thanks Snotlout, that means a lot.”

Astrid giggled, and gave Hiccup a pat to the shoulder, the universal ‘I’ll be right back’ sign. She got up and went to get him some water, so he could sit and bask in the praise. 

The band, in Hiccup’s absence, played a reprise of his song, though it sounded really weird without the fiddle. 

Gobber and Hilda belted the lyrics, in an unflattering harmony. 

“I'm in love with a fairytale, even though it hurts,

'Cause I don't care if I lose my mind, I'm already cursed!”

She had been so caught up in the music, in the fact that she was finally hearing Hiccup sing and play, she hadn’t paid attention to the lyrics. It was like they had been in a foreign language.

But now, she understood, and her face turned bright red. 

Determined not to be awkward, she returned to her place with the cup of water for him. 

“Thank you, milady!” He raised the glass with a big smile. His eyes were twinkling in the firelight, and his cheeks flushed a handsome pink. 

“You’re welcome,” she replied, voice a little deeper than intended. 

She sat beside him, their arms occasionally brushing in the cramped space. But Astrid really didn’t mind. In fact, she had half a mind to reach over and hold his hand. 

“I don't know what I was doing, she let me go, we grew apart…

Nowadays, I cannot brave her… 

But when I do, we'll get a brand new start!”

So she didn’t hold his hand. She decided that he needed to make that move. Was it petty after he sang her a love song? Maybe. 

Hiccup finished his water, still smiling as the gang animatedly talked. No one broached the yak in the room, ‘hey Hiccup, who was that song about, huh?’ and that was just fine. 

Once the band finished their butchered version of his song, Hiccup patted her shoulder and got up. “Wish me luck, gang,” he chuckled. 

“You don’t need it,” Ruffnut waved him off. 

“Yeah, but Astrid might,” Tuff smirked. 

Astrid blushed fiercely. “I don’t know…what y-you’re talking about…” She tried to be casual, but couldn’t make eye contact with them. 

“You’re hopeless,” said Heather, fondly. 

“Oh shush!” 

Hiccup had his fiddle in hand, and played a sharp note to get attention. He looked a lot less nervous now, and looked around at everyone. “This next song is older. I started writing it while I was training Toothless, before anyone else knew about dragons, before the Red Death…back then, I practiced a lot of speeches where I tried to convince everyone that we didn’t need to fight them. I never ended up successfully delivering those speeches, but I did write this anyway.” He nodded to Frida, who strummed the lute, starting the song. 

Then Hiccup came in, playing a fast tune again, though it wasn’t as intense as the first. He also didn’t have his eyes closed anymore. He was looking directly at Toothless and slowly walked towards him.   

“I have a dream, you are there, high above the clouds somewhere.

Rain is falling from the sky but it never touches you, you're way up high!” 

Toothless perked up, his tongue lulling out as he stood, making light little steps in time with the beats. The rest of the band joined as Hiccup continued to play and sing at the same time. 

“No more worries no more fear, you have made them disappear,

Sadness tried to steal the show, but now it feels like many years ago!”

Hiccup did a little skip hop to be right in front of Toothless, and sang brightly to him.

“And I! I will be with you every step!” 

The band shouted, “Hey! Hey!” While Hiccup leaned it and rubbed his nose against Toothless’. 

“Tonight I found a friend in you, and I'll keep you close forever!” 

He skip-hopped backwards and sang to the room. 

“Come fly with me!” 

The band echoed, “Ohoohoh Ohoohoh!”

“Into a fantasy!” 

“Ohoohoh Ohoohoh!”

“Where you can be whoever you want to be! Come fly with me!” 

He was on the move again, skipping over to the table and plopping into the spot next to Astrid. He leaned against the table, pretending to be casual, but he looked her dead in the eyes as he sang. 

“We can fly all day long, show me the world, sing me a song,

Tell me what the future holds, you and me will paint it all in gold!” 

Astrid beamed at him, her face hurting from the smile. 

“And I! I will believe your every word!” 

The audience got the prompt and stomped in time “Hey! Hey!” Hiccup leaned in and rubbed his nose against hers, just as he did with Toothless, making her burst into laughter. 

“‘Cause I, I have a friend in you. We'll always stay together!” 

He leapt to his feet, dancing in time with the beat and Toothless’ little prancing. 

“Come fly with me!” 

“Ohoohoh Ohoohoh!”

“Into a fantasy!”

“Ohoohoh Ohoohoh!”

“Where you can be whoever you want to be. Come fly with me!” 

He played his heart out, barely containing his laughter as Toothless did this adorable little steppy-step right along with him. Then Hiccup stopped his dance, though the smile didn’t leave his face. 

“And I…I will be with you every step.” 

His notes were slow, and his voice was soft, like he was making a promise. He swept his gaze across the hall, singing to the village this time.  

“Tonight I found some friends in you, and I keep you close forever!” 

He beckoned with his head, and smiled widely as a few kids from the back ran up and started dancing with Toothless. Hiccup flipped the fiddle to his side and strummed it like a guitar while Hackjaw kept a steady beat.

“Come fly with me, into a fantasy!

Where you can be whoever you want to be!

Come fly with me!” 

He flipped the fiddle back onto his chin to resume playing normally, but beckoned at the teens table with his head. This got the Twins and Snotlout up and dancing with the kids.

“Come fly with me!” 

“Ohoohoh Ohoohoh!”

“Into a fantasy!”

“Ohoohoh Ohoohoh!”

“Where you can be whoever you want to be. Come fly with me!” 

As he came to the end of the song, Snotlout grabbed him by the waist, lifting him off the floor and spinning him around. Hiccup didn’t miss a note though, and only laughed as he was rag dolled around. 

The room broke into cheers when the song ended, and Hiccup gave an exaggerated bow. Toothless mimicked this behavior and bowed his head, making his little ear flaps flip around. 

Astrid’s heart was full and ready to burst from her chest. 

She loved him so much. 

Seeing him so happy, having fun and dancing, it almost made her cry tears of joy. She smiled at him, watching as he cooed at Toothless. Then she turned back to her table mates. Fishlegs, Heather, and Dagur were all looking at her with thinly veiled giddy. 

From behind them, she could see her parents, who were even more enthusiastic. 

She rolled her eyes and covered her face with her hand. 

“Alright,” Hiccup said with an exaggerated sigh. “I guess I’ll give the band a break.” He plopped down on the floor, using Toothless as a backrest. In turn, Toothless curled up and rested his head in Hiccup’s lap. 

People slowly started to calm down, curious about what was happening next. The children that had been dancing sat down around Toothless, leaning on him too. 

That included the Twins, who draped themselves over him. 

“This next song, I wrote that first Snoggletog we had with the dragons. That year, all of the dragons left a few days before, and we had no idea why. Toothless couldn’t fly on his own, so I made him a tail that he could use by himself. He flew off, to where I assumed the other dragons were. 

“I missed him immediately, and started writing this that same day. You may remember that Snoggletog morning when the dragons returned with a boatload of babies.” 

There were some fond ‘aww’s from the crowd. 

“Well, Toothless wasn’t with those Dragons. It was a lonely few days waiting for answers, but when he finally came back, he brought my helmet I had lost at sea. He had spent all that time getting back what I had lost. He gave me a wonderful gift that year, so I gave him this song. It’s his very special song and he demands I sit on the floor like this when I play it.” 

Toothless warbled in confirmation.

“So…here we go…” He said, without further adieu.  

He held the fiddle up to his chin, but instead of using the bow, he plucked at the strings, playing a lullaby. 

Apparently, Toothless knew exactly what song this was, as he let out a warm rumbling purr. 

“It's almost night, I should be sleeping.

But the moon's so bright, as if it's playing with me.

Round and round, I walk in circles aimlessly.

Where could you be?”

The twins, without prompting, started snapping on the beat and rocking side to side.

“The purple skies were so inviting when we used to fly.

But the excitement slowly fades away.

Feels like there's nothing I wanna do.

Not without you.” 

Hiccup leaned his head back, eyes closed and relaxed, as he sang in a falsetto.

“And I will cry you a thousand tears the day you will return.

Tonight I swear, I'll stay right here until you will return.”

Sven picked up his Nyckleharpa, but tapped on it instead, making soft percussion. Hacksaw hit his drum ever so gently with his hand. Frida plucked the same notes on her lute, letting Hiccup go back to his bow.

“And every little cloud, and every single star, reminds me of just how much I miss you. And every little cloud, and every single star, reminds me of just how much I miss you.”

The band crept closer, softly harmonizing as Hiccup played his song. Toothless looked around to them, smiling, as everyone was singing his special song. 

“And I will cry you a thousand tears the day you will return.

Tonight I swear, I'll stay right here until you will return.”

Then Hiccup bowed a gentle waltz, one that might be played at a wedding. A warm, happy melody. Sven harmonized. 

“And I will cry you a thousand tears the day you will return.

Tonight I swear, I'll stay right here until you will return.” 

Slowly, the band faded out until it was just Hiccup plucking those soft notes.

“And every little cloud, and every single star, reminds me of just how much I miss you.” 

Hiccup smiled at Toothless, and just as he took his fingers away from the strings, Toothless warbled a loud ‘wah wah wah!’ that Astrid swore sounded like he was trying to sing. 

“Yeah bud! Every little cloud!”

“Wah wah wah!” 

“And every single star.” He chuckled.

Most people were too busy cooing to applaud. Astrid included. She held her hands over her heart, feeling all those warm and fuzzy un-viking feelings in her chest. 

She heard a loud sniff, and turned to see Dagur, Snotlout, and Fishlegs crying. Fishlegs just had tears, Snotlout was weeping openly, and Dagur was bawling uncontrollably. 

“That was beautiful,” Dagur whimpered. “He has the most beautiful soul.” 

Heather, who was only a little misty-eyed, looked at Astrid and rolled her eyes. “Boys.” 

Astrid chuckled, wiping a tear from her eye before joining in the remainder of the applause. 

“Alright, I’ve heard enough,” said Hamish, standing without the use of his cane. His face was serious, and solemn. 

“Wh-what? Did I–did I do something wrong!?” Hiccup struggled to stand with the fiddle still in hand. “If you didn’t like those, I can play something traditional! I just thought—”

Hamish held up a hand to stop him. “Hiccup. You…are a damn fine fiddler.” 

Hiccup relaxed slightly. “So then—” 

“It's time for your final test.” 

Hiccup stared, wide-eyed. “Really? You think I’m that good?” 

“Fiddler on the Roof!” Tuffnut yelled. 

“Is this not a good enough final test!?” Snotlout yelled a beat after. 

Hamish moved his cloak aside. “It’s time for you and I to do battle. As master and apprentice.” From under his cloak, he withdrew his own wooden case, and his own fiddle. 

Hiccup gulped. 

Hamish smiled, good naturedly. He brandished the shiny black instrument. “I’ll hold you to that last song, but now, we play Shades.” 

“Shades!?” Hiccup yelled. “Are you—are you sure?” 

“You are ready, my boy. Hagar, will you join us on vocals?” 

Hagar laughed. “You’re roping me into this too?” But he stood anyway. 

“What’s Shades?” Astrid asked Fishlegs. 

“Don’t look at me! I don’t know anything about this kind of music!” 

It seemed that Hamish heard her question and answered, “Shades is a piece written by my mentor. It’s difficult, but the perfect piece to test my students with. The difficulty lies in performing it with two fiddles.”

Hiccup nodded in agreement. “But I’m willing to try.” 

Hamish smiled at him. “That’s a good lad! You’ll take the high part.” He pulled a long note off his strings. Then he turned to the band and told them, “A Minor.” 

Then he and Hiccup took a stance, staring at each other. A breath passed, then two.

In a blink, they started playing a frantic gallop in time. The notes started rising, climbing an invisible ladder through the air. Always harmonizing, never falling out of sync. Hackjaw was the only one that joined in, playing a syncopated beat on the drum. Then the fiddles both calmed down to a whisper, and Hagar sang. 

“In a forest without any trees, where feelings and memories superimposed by an image of you are caught on the morning dew.” 

A duel, trading notes back and forth, taking over each other’s parts. 

“Swim in a lake at the first light of day, where children and swans go to play right in the wake of your perfect body and sing of unity.”

Right at the last line, they jumped it, keeping strides with each other. Like running a race, but they were matching each step for step. Hiccup kept his eyes locked with Hamish, watching his hands as he played.

“A Shiv’ring garden where willows grow tall, their shadows caught on a wall.

The sound of weeping so soft in the breeze, a bustle of falling leaves.” 

Soft notes, punctuating each line, soft swells, not distracting, just accenting. Matching tone, volume, intensity. 

Astrid was riveted. She didn’t know much about fiddling, much less any music, but performing like this without practicing together had to be very hard. Impossible even. 

“A night has many shades. It can last for many days and hurt in many ways, 

like the force of a rising tide when the moon floats by.”  

The song seemed to come to an end. Slow, drawn out notes that seemed to gently set everyone down from the heights they had been climbing. 

But then Hamish pulled a triplet, a quick back and forth of the bow. Hiccup returned it. Hamish did it back. Then Hiccup began his sprinting note, and Hamish was right there, meeting it in speed. They grew louder and louder, changing pitch, changing tempos, hitting notes at a dizzying speed of variation. Each one had to be perfect. 

Hiccup’s eyes widened as a grin began to tug at his lips. This was the final sprint, this was it! 

They played that final climb, hitting a high note and jumping off the ladder into silence. 

They both stared at each other, panting, before breaking out into laughter. 

“Did I actually do it!?” Hiccup laughed breathlessly. 

“Aye lad! Every single note! You’ve been practicing, don’t lie!” 

“Of course I have! Ever since I fumbled when I was a kid, it haunted me. I didn’t think I had it down yet though!” 

“Oh, you’ve done an old viking proud, you know. I’m thinking of taking on more students now that I’m retired from chiefing. It’ll give me something good to do! I might call on you to show ‘em how to do it right.” 

“Oh, I don’t know if I can do it like that again.” 

“Sure you can! And next time, it’ll be even better.” 

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, Hamish.” 

For the third time that evening, Hiccup was picked up in a hug and lifted off the floor. “The boy has passed! I can teach him no more!” 

The assembled cheered, not all comprehending what exactly had happened, but happy for Hiccup all the same. 

Hamish set him back on his feet. “Alright lad, your old man said you got one more song for me. About a girl?” 

Hiccup’s face went bright red and he put his free hand to his cheek. “Oh gods…he sure promised you that, huh?” 

“Darn tootin’! I’ve enjoyed the rest! I’m sure this will be great!” Then he put an arm around him and spoke to him so softly no one else could hear. Hiccup responded just as quiet, before Hamish burst out laughing. He gave the boy a punch to the shoulder, and exclaimed, “go get her, boy-o~!” 

Hiccup gulped, and straightened his clothes nervously. 

“We’re doing the last one now, lad?” Gobber asked, grinning. 

“Uh oh! Is this the one?!” Stoick barked, standing from his seat. 

“Sit down, dad!” Hiccup shouted back, face as red as can be. “Gods preserve me.” He looked back at the band, making sure they were all ready to go. Then he spoke up to the room. “This is my last song for you this evening. I hope you all have enjoyed this little…uh, concert? It was certainly not expected. But your warm reception is appreciated!” 

“Whooo! Go Hiccup!” Tuffnut screamed.

He released an awkward laugh. “Yeah, thanks…um.” He brought the fiddle up to rest on his shoulder. “This song…I wrote a really long time ago. Before I met Toothless even. It’s uh…it’s still true though…” he trailed off. He nodded to the band, getting a beat. 

Instead of instruments, they all clapped in time, before Hiccup started singing, his face still a bright red. 

“This feeling lasted,

I love you, Astrid!

You're so much stronger than me,

But I don't mind!” 

Astrid’s jaw dropped, her own face going as red as his. Hiccup began playing a jaunty tune, making Toothless pop to his feet and start dancing again. 

“Never mind what the others say, deep inside I'm quite okay.

I may have messed up once or twice, but I really need you!” 

He dared to look at her.

“And it's not like I'm the only guy. Oh, I know how you make them cry.

So let's start by being friends and let this friendship never end.

I knew you years ago. What I want, I don't know. But let’s just say it's love!” 

Playing the fiddle and having Toothless prancing around gave Hiccup a lot of confidence. That, or just getting those first words out was the hardest part. But now, he was smiling, and hop-skipping around while he played. 

“This feeling lasted, I love you, Astrid!

You're so much stronger than me, but I don't mind! 

Don't say maybe, just be my lady!

No need to hesitate 'cause you'll be fine!”

Hiccup could, on occasion, be extremely corny. Even now, when he was just playing, he had this faux bashful smile on his face, like he had no clue what he was doing to her. The blush seemed genuine enough. 

“So tell me what I want to hear,

No wait, let's just leave it there.

You know I'm not good for you!

Gods, I don't know what to do!”

Stoick had said he sang this song with passion, and he was right! Hiccup belted out the words, like he was making a grand proclamation. 

“I liked you from the start!

You melt my icy heart!

And now it's burning hot!”

In retrospect, she always knew he was a performer. He’d always had a streak of the dramatic. Like when he tried to tame the Nightmare during his final exam. Or whenever he revealed one of his inventions. If he was going to do something, it was going to be a grand spectacle. Why was this any different? 

“This feeling lasted, I love you, Astrid!

You're so much stronger than me, but I don't mind!

Don't say maybe, just be my lady

No need to hesitate 'Cause you'll be fine!”

He got down on one knee in front of her, looking up at her with big glistening eyes that would put Toothless to shame. 

“Don't go away, you're what's left of me!

I once believed you would save my soul.

But if you saw me now crying secretly,

Would you hold my hand and never let it go?”

He flipped the fiddle to his side and strummed it like a guitar. His voice became softer, tender. Now just singing to her, and no one else. 

“This feeling lasted, I love you, Astrid!

You're so much stronger than me, but I don't mind!

Don't say maybe, just be my lady!

No need to hesitate 'Cause you'll be fine!”

He popped back up onto his feet, and threw his head back, making his grand declaration into the room. 

“Do you hear me, Astrid?

I still love you, Astrid!

I’m getting stronger now, hope you don’t mind!

Don't say maybe, just be my lady

Your parents are bugging me, knowing you'll be fine!”

I love you, Astrid! How long had she waited to hear those words from him? Too long, it seemed. But this seemed worth the wait. 

All there was left to do was wait for him to move that damn fiddle out of the way. 

He finished his song, flushed but smiling as he gave her a little shrug. 

Astrid bolted from her seat, flung her arms around his neck, and kissed him hotly on the lips. In a way she had been wanting to for years, but hadn’t quite had the nerve to do like when she was younger. 

She was still able to hear him squeak despite the cacophony that filled the large room. 

Shouts of “finally!” And “you owe me ten gold” were totally drowned out in the absolute satisfaction she felt, finally kissing Hiccup. 

Someone must have taken his fiddle for him as she felt his arms wrap around her and pull her tight. 

Finally, she pulled away, a little winded. His face was priceless. He was dazed, but had this awed and lovestruck smile on his lips. 

She played with his hair, then declared, “I don’t know much about music, but…

“Ooh Hiccup, I love you Hiccup! 

You’re such a dork, you see? 

But I don’t mind! 

Won’t say maybe, I’ll be your lady! 

I know you’ll take care of me, and I’ll be fine!”

He smiled broadly and pulled her in for another kiss. 

“What a way to end a concert!” Hamish yelled from his table. “Way to go, lad!” 

“I owe you a thank you, Hamish. I never would have done this if you hadn’t requested it.” 

“Anytime, my boy! Always happy to help!” 

—

The Shivering Shores stayed for three days, and in that time, Hiccup spent some time with Hamish, teaching him his songs. He played with the band during dinners, and over all, didn’t seem as secretive as he had been the last week. Everyone knew now, and he accepted that he was good. He was no longer hesitant, but actually allowed himself to show off.

When it was time to return to the Edge, Astrid spied the wooden case among his baggage. 

“You’re taking it with you?” 

“Might as well, might help me think while I’m planning on how to deal with the hunters. It’s helped in the past.” 

“Are you going to give us something to listen to on the way back?” Asked Snotlout. “Gods forbid I have to listen to the Twins bicker for another 8 hours!” 

“You want me to fly and play at the same time?” 

“Oh like Toothless isn’t doing most of the work!” 

Hiccup couldn’t argue with that.

Once they were up in the air and on their way, Hiccup made a great show out of taking out the fiddle and tuning it. Agonizing over each note. 

“We know it’s tuned! You’ve been playing it all weekend! It’s tuned!” Snotlout shouted. 

Hiccup snorted. “Alright alright, let’s see…” He drew a long note out and sang. 

“Ohhhh I got my ax and I got my mace and I love my wife with the ugly face, I’m a viking through and through!!”

And he was promptly relieved of entertainment duties. 

—-

A week later, things were back to normal. The twins had done a number on the Edge, and repairs and restocks were needed. 

Hiccup and Astrid were up to their necks with duties, busy with work and barely could find a moment to relax, let alone have some time together. 

It was late one night when Astrid laid in bed, exhausted but unable to sleep. She kept going over her lists in her mind, making sure she hadn’t missed anything. 

The silence of the night was interrupted by the soft trill of a fiddle. No particular song, just notes floating around. Fast, slow, but mostly quiet. 

Hiccup was also awake and thinking. 

She got up and wandered over to his hut. His door was open, and he paced back and forth, with the fiddle on his shoulder. He was obviously talking to himself, but it was quiet and muffled by the music. 

“Babe?” She asked, just loud enough.

He jolted. “Astrid! Oh! I didn’t wake you, did I? I’m sorry, I knew I shouldn’t have—“ he went to put the instrument away, but Astrid reached out and stopped him. “No, you didn’t wake me. I was already up. And it was so quiet I probably wouldn't have heard it if I was asleep.” 

He sighed in relief. 

“Then what’s up?” 

“Well, I could tell you were awake, and…I wanted to see you.” 

His face colored. “Yeah?” 

“Hmmhmm. You don’t have to stop what you’re doing. I kinda like the idea of my own private performance.” 

He shyly smiled, then put the fiddle back on his shoulder. 

—

Fishlegs had night patrol. He opted to take Meatlug out for a relaxing flight around the island. He saw Astrid sneak over to Hiccup’s hut, but didn’t say anything. It wasn’t his business. He heard Hiccup playing the fiddle, a lovely little melody. 

Then he heard a sharp, off key note, followed by silence. 

He may be on patrol, but he had a feeling they didn’t want him to investigate. 

------

One time in Highschool, we had a talent show. Know that I went to a very tiny private school, and everyone knew everyone (20 people in my grade). There was this guy in my class, Kevin, who was pretty stoic and quiet. For the talent show, he rode a unicycle while juggling and telling jokes. No one knew he could do that. Even the kids that knew him from Kindergarten. 

Songs: Seasoned Oak - King Arthur and the Legend of the Sword

Fairytale - Alexander Rybak

Into a Fantasy - Alexander Rybak

Return (For Toothless) - Alexander Rybak

Shades- Árstídir

OAH- Alexander Rybak (heavily rewritten, and I actually prefer the strings of the Russian version ‘Strela Amura’ better.)