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aboveallarescuer · 4 years ago

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How Dany assesses the counsel she receives and makes her own choices - The way from the Red Waste to Vaes Tolorro

This will be a series of posts meant to show that Dany is open to receiving advice and criticism, but that she doesn’t act solely based on what other people tell her to do. On the opposite, GRRM makes great effort to write a Dany who most often merges different viewpoints and/or finds her own solutions to the problems she’s facing. I won’t include every single decision she ever made (e.g. her decisions at court are often made without counsel and her execution of the ritual to hatch the dragon eggs was already exhaustively and deftly analyzed by other people), but there will be plenty of instances in this series that will prove my point nonetheless. The metas will always have four items: in which chapters the events mentioned take place; what advice she receives and from whom; what were her actions; the verdict (whether she followed other people’s advice, ignored/rejected them or did both at the same time).

Chapter (s):

ACOK Daenerys I

The advice Dany receives:

Jorah and Rakharo advise Dany to avoid any route that any other khal took.

Jorah says that, while it's uncertain that they will survive by moving forward through the Red Waste, it's certain that they will die if they try to go back.

Jhiqui and Irri advise Dany to not enter the city because of the evil ghosts that inhabit it.

Dany's actions:

As I said in my meta about the relationship between Dany and the prophecies, Dany thinks it's best to follow the comet both because it's her only viable alternative and because there would only be despair left if she didn't believe that it meant something. As she lays out, all the other paths would compromise her small group:

She dare not turn north onto the vast ocean of grass they called the Dothraki sea. The first khalasar they met would swallow up her ragged band, slaying the warriors and slaving the rest. The lands of the Lamb Men south of the river were likewise closed to them. They were too few to defend themselves even against that unwarlike folk, and the Lhazareen had small reason to love them. (ACOK Daenerys I)

By the way, it's noteworthy that Dany was able to assess her situation and think of all these implications on her own. And I do believe she did it on her own, considering that the author explicitly recognizes when the ideas come from other people:

She might have struck downriver for the ports at Meereen and Yunkai and Astapor, but Rakharo warned her that Pono’s khalasar had ridden that way, driving thousands of captives before them to sell in the flesh marts that festered like open sores on the shores of Slaver’s Bay.

“Why should I fear Pono?” Dany objected. “He was Drogo’s ko, and always spoke me gently.”

“Ko Pono spoke you gently,” Ser Jorah Mormont said. “Khal Pono will kill you.[”] (ACOK Daenerys I)

And this leads us to an interesting exchange between Dany and Jorah. As I said before, there are lots of instances to infer that she says things she does not necessarily believe in to obtain his respect, and this is one of them. First, he says that she and her hundred warriors won't stand a chance against Pono's ten thousand warriors. In her mind, Dany is quite conscious of her vulnerabilities, for she knows she doesn't even have a hundred warriors:

No, Dany thought. I have four. The rest are women, old sick men and boys whose hair has never been braided.

But instead of revealing these insecurities, Dany declares:

“I have the dragons,” she pointed out.

Which then leads Jorah to reply that they won't help her that much, since they are still hatchlings; in fact, they may be liabilities at this point since everyone will want to possess them. Dany fiercely says that they are hers and no one will take them from her while she lives. She is putting on a facade here, and admirably so. As the last Targaryen, khaleesi and now Mother of Dragons (as they started to call her), she is their leader and the one who must organize them to work towards a single purpose. To be in that position means being firm and reliable when no one else could be:

“We follow the comet,” Dany told her khalasar. Once it was said, no word was raised against it. They had been Drogo’s people, but they were hers now. The Unburnt, they called her, and Mother of Dragons. Her word was their law.

They are not strong, she told herself, so I must be their strength. I must show no fear, no weakness, no doubt. However frightened my heart, when they look upon my face they must see only Drogo’s queen. She felt older than her fourteen years. If ever she had truly been a girl, that time was done.

Dany kissed him lightly on the cheek. It heartened her to see him smile. I must be strong for him as well, she thought grimly. A knight he may be, but I am the blood of the dragon.

Like I said before, while Viserys used the expression "the blood of the dragon" to be ostentatious and coerce others into doing whatever he wanted, Dany reclaims it to restrain her emotions so she can be the kind of leader who "belongs to her people, not herself". The use of that phrase is also reminiscent of her duty not being only towards the living, but also the dead, whom she doesn't fail to mention:

Her father had been slain before she was born, and her splendid brother Rhaegar as well. Her mother had died bringing her into the world while the storm screamed outside. Gentle Ser Willem Darry, who must have loved her after a fashion, had been taken by a wasting sickness when she was very young. Her brother Viserys, Khal Drogo who was her sun-and-stars, even her unborn son, the gods had claimed them all. They will not have my dragons, Dany vowed. They will not. (ACOK Daenerys II)

Dany is being very protective of her dragons for two reasons:

She loves them as she would love her human children and considers them family.

They are also the means for her to successfully claim her father's throne. Only then she will honor all of these people that the gods claimed. That is also why she won't admit defeat in Qarth when all hope seems lost - she has the dragons and a shot at doing justice for her ancestors and carrying out their legacy, so she will not look back and be lost.

Because Dany's leadership style is rooted in empathy and accountability, she never takes advantage of her position:

Dany hungered and thirsted with the rest of them. The milk in her breasts dried up, her nipples cracked and bled, and the flesh fell away from her day by day until she was lean and hard as a stick[.]

Another leader might have taken most of the food or water for themselves, but that's not what Dany chooses to do. She "must know the sufferings of her people", after all, even more so when she is unable to help them the way she wished she could. The trauma of seeing so many of her people perish will later inform her attempts to bring peace (untenable as it was) as quickly as possible to Meereen in ASOS and ADWD.

Wine gave out first, and soon thereafter the clotted mare’s milk the horselords loved better than mead. Then their stores of flatbread and dried meat were exhausted as well. Their hunters found no game, and only the flesh of their dead horses filled their bellies. Death followed death. Weak children, wrinkled old women, the sick and the stupid and the heedless, the cruel land claimed them all. Doreah grew gaunt and hollow-eyed, and her soft golden hair turned brittle as straw.

[H]er khalasar withered and died. Around them the land turned ever more desolate. Even devilgrass grew scant; horses dropped in their tracks, leaving so few that some of her people must trudge along on foot.

Dany looked at the horizon with despair. They had lost a third of their number, and still the waste stretched before them, bleak and red and endless.

Even here, Dany does the best she can to alleviate their pain. She respects and follows their customs:

Three days into the march, the first man died. A toothless oldster with cloudy blue eyes, he fell exhausted from his saddle and could not rise again. An hour later he was done. [...] Dany bid them kill the weakest of their dying horses, so the dead man might go mounted into the night lands.

Two nights later, it was an infant girl who perished. Her mother’s anguished wailing lasted all day, but there was nothing to be done. The child had been too young to ride, poor thing. Not for her the endless black grasses of the night lands; she must be born again.

She also feels a lot of gratitude for Doreah and strives to make her death a little less agonizing:

Doreah took a fever and grew worse with every league they crossed. Her lips and hands broke with blood blisters, her hair came out in clumps, and one evenfall she lacked the strength to mount her horse. Jhogo said they must leave her or bind her to her saddle, but Dany remembered a night on the Dothraki sea, when the Lysene girl had taught her secrets so that Drogo might love her more. She gave Doreah water from her own skin, cooled her brow with a damp cloth, and held her hand until she died, shivering. Only then would she permit the khalasar to press on.

Later in ADWD, during a feast where people start bringing up the names of the combatants in the upcoming duels at Daznak's Pit, Dany feels complicit in their imminent deaths. She remembers Doreah as an example of someone who died under her protection. More than that: in Dany's mind, Doreah is proof that "[n]o queen has clean hands" because that's how guilty Dany feels about what happened:

Much of the talk about the table was of the matches to be fought upon the morrow. Barsena Blackhair was going to face a boar, his tusks against her dagger. Khrazz was fighting, as was the Spotted Cat. And in the day's final pairing, Goghor the Giant would go against Belaquo Bonebreaker. One would be dead before the sun went down. No queen has clean hands, Dany told herself. She thought of Doreah, of Quaro, of Eroeh … of a little girl she had never met, whose name had been Hazzea. (ADWD Daenerys VIII)

I want to cry.

Also, even if in vain, Dany's proactive (though failed) efforts to find resources in the Red Waste should not be overlooked, for it's still admirable that she took them without anyone even suggesting:

Dany sent outriders ranging ahead of the column, but they found neither wells nor springs, only bitter pools, shallow and stagnant, shrinking in the hot sun.

And neither should Dany's discovery of how to feed the dragons. While Viserys gave her the knowledge, she was the one who retained it in her memory, guessed that it might work and applied it:

Such little things, she thought as she fed them by hand, or rather, tried to feed them, for the dragons would not eat. They would hiss and spit at each bloody morsel of horsemeat, steam rising from their nostrils, yet they would not take the food ... until Dany recalled something Viserys had told her when they were children.

Only dragons and men eat cooked meat, he had said.

When she had her handmaids char the horsemeat black, the dragons ripped at it eagerly, their heads striking like snakes.

Eventually, Dany and her khalasar arrive at the abandoned city that would later be named Vaes Tolorro. She is the one who takes precautions at first:

They made camp before the remnants of a gutted palace, on a windswept plaza where devilgrass grew between the paving stones. Dany sent out men to search the ruins. Some went reluctantly, yet they went ...

But then, after finding out that the place has figs, fruit trees, vines and water, she decides to enter it, stay, rest and be practical rather than leave it because of superstitions:

... and one scarred old man returned a brief time later, hopping and grinning, his hands overflowing with figs. Other searchers returned with tales of other fruit trees, hidden behind closed doors in secret gardens. Aggo showed her a courtyard overgrown with twisting vines and tiny green grapes, and Jhogo discovered a well where the water was pure and cold. Yet they found bones too, the skulls of the unburied dead, bleached and broken. “Ghosts,” Irri muttered. “Terrible ghosts. We must not stay here, Khaleesi, this is their place.”

“I fear no ghosts. Dragons are more powerful than ghosts.” And figs are more important.

She takes note of the resources available to her ("food and water here to sustain them, and enough grass for the horses to regain their strength") and gets her people to work on the different tasks she finds for them:

Dany gave him charge of a dozen of her strongest men, and set them to pulling up the plaza to get to the earth beneath. If devilgrass could grow between the paving stones, other grasses would grow when the stones were gone. They had wells enough, no lack of water. Given seed, they could make the plaza bloom.

Dany thanked him and told him to see to the repair of the gates. If enemies had crossed the waste to destroy these cities in ancient days, they might well come again. “If so, we must be ready,” she declared.

In these two cases, we have explicit cases of Dany concocting ideas to improve Vaes Tolorro's facility, namely by improving its lawn and fortifying it. Not only that, but we also find out that, under Dany's leadership, her whole khalasar is now taking action and making the place better in the ways they can help:

Women harvested fruit from the gardens of the dead. Men groomed their mounts and mended saddles, stirrups, and shoes. Children wandered the twisty alleys and found old bronze coins and bits of purple glass and stone flagons with handles carved like snakes. One woman was stung by a red scorpion, but hers was the only death. The horses began to put on some flesh. Dany tended Ser Jorah’s wound herself, and it began to heal.

This is all great setup for when Dany becomes Queen of Meereen and handles large-scale projects to improve the city's economy and infrastructure.

However, even though Dany thinks it "pleasant" to stay in Vaes Tolorro, she's aware that she must eventually leave, and she doesn't want to do so without being fairly sure of where she's going. With that in mind, she makes the clever decision to send her bloodriders in different directions so that, hopefully, one might find a path that's not as arduous as the one they had to face:

The next morn, she summoned her bloodriders. “Blood of my blood,” she told the three of them, “I have need of you. Each of you is to choose three horses, the hardiest and healthiest that remain to us. Load as much water and food as your mounts can bear, and ride forth for me. Aggo shall strike southwest, Rakharo due south. Jhogo, you are to follow shierak qiya on southeast.”

“What shall we seek, Khaleesi?” asked Jhogo.

“Whatever there is,” Dany answered. “Seek for other cities, living and dead. Seek for caravans and people. Seek for rivers and lakes and the great salt sea. Find how far this waste extends before us, and what lies on the other side. When I leave this place, I do not mean to strike out blind again. I will know where I am bound, and how best to get there.”

And this decision pays off when Jhogo returns with the three strangers who will guide Dany to Qarth.

Aside from the beginning when Dany ponders which direction to take, neither Ser Jorah nor her bloodriders are ever mentioned as part of Dany's decisionmaking. Instead, GRRM takes pain to make Dany's reasoning and actions her own, while also showcasing her selfless nature. ACOK Daenerys I is a chapter that highlights the authorial intent to portray Daenerys Targaryen as an intelligent, capable and principled leader.

Verdict:

From the Red Waste to Vaes Tolorro, Jorah and Rakharo advise Dany about where not to go (though it must be said that she had already made most of the assessment on her own). Besides that, every single action that Dany takes is of her own volition and without the influence of anyone's help. She:

Exhibits emotional intelligence by acting as a leader who drives her group.

Tries to find resources in the Red Waste.

Attempts to ease the khalasar's pain by taking part in their customs and giving Doreah a less painful death.

Decides to remain in Vaes Tolorro despite superstitions.

Takes note of the resources that she has in her disposal.

Gives her people several different tasks to improve the city; thanks to her guidance, some possibly started to do different activities on their own.

Sends her bloodriders in different directions to find one that isn't as taxing as the previous one.

#daenerys targaryen #asoiaf meta #a clash of kings #valyrianscrolls #dany and her choices

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amyscascadingtabs · 5 years ago

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i’ll walk through hell with you

chapter 6. i’ll be your arms, i’ll be your steady satellite

read on ao3

read earlier chapters

The Santiago Siblings with families spend a weekend together, Amy’s feeling weird, and Jake’s getting suspicious.

september.

Amy throws out the ovulation tests first. Then, most of the pregnancy tests.

She keeps a few, in case of emergencies, but she hides them so far inside their bathroom cabinet, buried underneath boxes of band-aids and disinfectant wipes, she tells herself it’s the same thing.

She also throws out the vitamin supplements and the gross herbal teas, and puts the cherished pages of the fertility binder through her paper shredder while Jake shakes his head at her.

“You’re being crazy,” he states when she empties the paper confetti in the trash, immediately tying the bag shut and placing it by the door.

“Nope,” she responds. “I’m finally being sane.”

She stops doing yoga, not that she got into a habit with it in the first place. She goes back to her usual diet and coffee habits. She deletes every fertility-related bookmark off of her computer and unfollows all the Instagram accounts she once tried to find support in. There’s a smidge of panic and hard-hitting grief the first few times she sees a pregnant person somewhere, a harsh pain that comes with knowing for certain she’ll never experience it again, but most of all, Amy feels free. As heartrending as the knowledge is, she’d take it over uncertainty any day of the week.

Her days of the week are moving quickly, too. It's like the moment she stopped being consumed by this, the rest of her life caught up with her, and now it’s speeding past. Leah starts her first Tiny Tots preschool class, and her parents cry for a good ten minutes after dropping her off the first time because their baby is growing up and it’s all moving too fast. They start doing proper research on allergy-friendly cats and even schedule a visit at a cattery. Work speeds up and she has to work overtime for more days in a row than she's done since having a kid, making her fear their apartment will fall into pieces and her daughter forget who she is, but she comes home each night to dinner on the table and Leah in pajamas begging her to read a bedtime story. She makes sure to thoroughly thank her husband, especially the night when there’s a takeout box with potato pancakes waiting for her, and promises him a proper reward once the weekend rolls around.

“Cool, cool,” he mumbles half-asleep as he makes himself the little spoon in bed. “Also, while we’re on the topic, those potato pancakes definitely weren’t because Leah and I had ice cream for dinner. In case you were thinking that.”

“Jake.”

“Mm. Goodnight, babe.”

Even without the fertility treatments, her free time between work and family life remains strictly limited, but she does manage to squeeze in something much needed. Every other Thursday night at eight o’clock sharp, Amy finds herself outside the door to Rosa’s apartment, and every night Rosa cuts right to the chase.

“You’re not pregnant?”

“Nope.”

“Not taking any fertility medication?”

“Stopped them all.”

“Take a shot, Santiago.”

She’s decided not to tell more people about her experiences, doesn’t see the point when all she wants is to forget, but every other Thursday night, she vents. Rosa lets her speak, sometimes offering commentary but mostly just nodding, and Amy’s pleasantly surprised to discover it helps.

She’s not alone, and most importantly, she’s going to be okay again.

october.

As the end of October arrives, it becomes time for the weekend with all the Santiago siblings and their families renting a cabin upstate. Tony calls it a tradition even though it's the first time they're doing it, but when Amy points this out, he simply shrugs and says it's important to have goals in life.

At first, she's skeptical about it - spending four days in a cabin with fifteen adults, thirteen kids and one dog feels like a polar opposite to the relaxed family time she craves - but it's been forever since she saw them all and she supposes she could use some time away from Brooklyn’s buzzing city life, so they decide to go. She nearly regrets it after three hours in the car with the Frozen-soundtrack on repeat, but then they reach their destination, and all is forgiven when Leah runs to hug all her cousins.

Friday morning, they arrange a big leaf fight in the yard. At first, it's kids against adults, but as more and more children drop out, it becomes Santiago siblings against partners, and as more and more adults drop out too, eventually it's just Amy and Julian against Jake. The fight lasts until Jake starts complaining about there being leaves in his ear. At that point, Amy's laughing so hard her stomach hurts.

“Loser does all the dishes after lunch,” Julian grins, and Jake looks like he's about to cry.

Amy checks in on him after ten minutes. His shirt is wet from the soapy water and she can see the terror in his eyes as he looks to the mountain of dirty plates, glasses, and cutlery, but he’s scrubbing hard at them one by one with furious determination.

“Need any help, babe?” She sneaks her arms around him from behind, pressing a kiss to his neck and pulling out a small twig that’s still stuck in the back of his hair.

“Desperately,” he groans, wiping his hands on his jeans and facing her. “But I have to prove my strength to your brothers.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure Julian just wanted a reason to see you in a wet t-shirt.”

“He could have just asked.”

Amy laughs, shaking her head. “I’ll help you out.”

He squints. “Are you sure? You look kind of... tired.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Not like that,” he says, rolling his eyes. “But you look a little - I don’t know - pale? Did you not have coffee this morning?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t finish it. Creamer tasted weird.” He opens his mouth to say something, but she shuts him up with a glare. “I’m fine. Come on, I’ll help you finish these.”

They manage to get done right on time for a family walk in the woods. Leah makes it about a quarter of a mile before she starts complaining, so Jake carries her on his shoulders, which results in immediate chaos and tears from David’s twins when they demand the same and David can’t carry them both. Amy helps her brother by carrying Samuel on her shoulders, but the kid must have dog hair on his clothes from playing with Julian's dog, because her nose gets stuffy after only a minute. If it weren’t for the animal being straight-up adorable, or for Leah's excitement when Julian asks her if she wants to hold Oscar’s leash for a minute, Amy swears she would be yelling at this dog, too.

The stuffy nose lasts for the entire afternoon, and she curses the fact that she forgot her allergy nasal sprays at home. Luckily, she’s surrounded by plenty of good distractions, and the afternoon disappears in a jumble of trying to keep different children from hurting themselves or others while also trying to make sure they’re happy, and if she’s not watching any kids, she’s trying to keep up with what feels like a billion different conversations going on at the same time. It’s enough to make anyone exhausted. She tries to have another cup of coffee, black this time to avoid the probably-bad creamer, but she only gets down a few sips before her throat goes all dry and she has to breathe real hard for the nausea to pass. She pours out the rest in the kitchen sink.

Despite her tiredness and stuffy nose and sudden coffee aversion, Amy has a lovely day. When afternoon becomes evening, everyone who isn’t cooking dinner makes their way down to the nearby lake to watch the sunset. Leah’s in Jake’s arms with her head on his shoulder, looking all cozy in her purple fluffy hoodie as she sings the lyrics to Moana in the wrong order, and Amy can’t fight the urge to kiss her sweet little face until Leah grimaces and says stop, mama, hiding her face in Jake’s shirt as he laughs.

They’re her favorite sight in the world - the love of her life, and the child who’s held Amy’s whole heart in her hands since the first time she waved to them on an ultrasound screen over three years ago. Jake whispers something to Leah that Amy can’t hear, the girl giggles, and her heart aches with how much she loves them. She may never get the kids-plural family she pictured in her younger days, but she gets this, and it’s better than anything she could have imagined.

When all the kids have gone to bed - save for seven-month-old Charlie, who’s wide awake and happy to get passed around between different pairs of arms - the adults gather in the living room for a chance at uninterrupted conversation and a glass of wine. Amy finds space in the corner of a couch, with Jake on her left and Tony’s wife Clara in an armchair on her right, and gratefully accepts the glass of red wine Lucas gives her. She takes a sip, first enjoying the taste, but the second sip tastes off and the third is awful. She tries to hide her grimace as she puts it down on the side table and asks for a glass of water instead.

She's not really listening to the conversation, zoning out and just enjoying the comfort of Jake's arm around her shoulders, but Clara nudging her arm gets her attention.

“Do you want to hold Charlie for a while, Amy?”

“I’d love to,” she says, and the next second there's a baby in her arms who's shooting her the brightest of toothless smiles and reaching for her necklace. Charlie’s chubby fingers try to grab the L and J-pendants, so she gently separates his hands from them and he starts playing with a sling of her hair instead.

“Oh, you're strong,” she laughs as he grips it. “Wow.”

“Tell me about it,” Clara laughs. “Sometimes he’s lucky he’s cute.”

Amy smiles. The baby is already snuggling his head into her chest, making himself comfortable. He's truly adorable with round cheeks and light-ginger hair, melting her heart as he grips onto her shirt.

She's missed this. Still, it’s less painful now that she knows - she might never have more babies of her own, but she’ll always have plenty of nephews and nieces to hold, cuddle and play with.

“You're adorable,” she whispers to Charlie with a kiss to his forehead. “Yes, you are.”

“Hey, Amy?” David catches her attention from the opposite couch. “Aren't you guys going to have more kids?”

She can feel Jake freeze next to her.

“We’ve thought of it,” she says calmly. “But we landed on one kid. We’re happy with that.”

Jake squeezes her shoulder.

“Really? Huh.” David nods in surprise. “Don’t you want more kids, Jake?”

“It's not my decision to make,” he shrugs, like it was an obvious fact. “I'm just hoping we can get a cat soon.”

Charlie falls asleep in Amy's arms, staying there even as people begin to drop out and head to bed. She gives him back to Tony when it’s time for a diaper change, closing her eyes and leaning against Jake's chest once her arms are free again.

“You okay, Ames?”

“Yeah,” she promises. “Just sleepy.”

“You didn't drink anything,” he notes, nodding to her untouched glass.

“Did you try the wine?” He nods. “I hated it. I think Julian has crappy taste in alcohol.”

Jake shrugs. “It tasted fine to me. Maybe your taste buds are being weird.”

“Or I have better taste than you.” She kisses him on the cheek. “Let's go to bed, babe.”

She’s barely closed her eyes before Leah climbs into their bed, full of energy as she makes space between her parents.

“I wanna go outside and play,” she insists, and when this doesn’t garner enough of a response, she frowns. “It’s morning!”

Amy reluctantly opens her eyes to reach for her phone, reading the time. “Half-past seven.” Weird. They went to bed at one a.m. and Leah’s slept through the night, yet it feels like she was woken up after ten minutes.

“Hey, I have an idea,” says Jake, pulling his daughter close and tickling her neck. “How about we play in here for a while? I have a great idea for something.”

“What?”

“Well, you see, bumblebee, you’re a super brave space pirate. This bed is your spaceship, and mama and I are your innocent, weak humans that you’ve captured.” He yawns. “The rules are that we have to lay still. If we move, we’ll fall out into space and, uh, die.”

“Okay! Dada, still!”

“I love this game,” Amy mumbles, pulling the covers closer around herself.

The spaceship game lasts a full ten minutes before Leah tires, deciding that her parents are too boring captives for her taste and starting a new game that circles around her trying to jump from the bed onto her mattress in increasingly creative and less-than-safe ways. Jake defuses the situation before she tries to do a backflip, suggesting that they get out of bed and see if any other cousins are up yet, and Amy tries to open her eyes again. It’s painful - her body screams for more sleep, and she channels this into the pleading look she gives Jake.

“Can I get another half hour? I feel like I’m going to collapse if I get up now.”

“Huh.” A line appears between his brows. “Are you sure you’re fine?”

“Yeah,” she yawns. “I just need thirty minutes, like I said.”

“Okay, I’ll wake you up when there’s breakfast - Lee, wait!”

He disappears out the door chasing after their daughter, and Amy sighs in relief as she lets her eyes fall closed again.

It still feels like no time has passed before Jake comes to tell her the thirty minutes are up, but she forces herself to get out of bed anyway. They have a long day ahead of them, and Amy’s not risking getting teased by her brothers for wanting to sleep in. Instead, she throws on a hoodie to hide the fact that she’s freezing, and pours herself a big cup of coffee at the breakfast table. She manages four sips before it threatens to come back up again. Luckily, one-year-old Milo chooses that exact moment to almost choke on his piece of toast, and no one except for Jake seems to notice the gagging expression on her face as she tries to swallow everything back down.

She must be getting the flu, or maybe she’s picked up some other bug from her daughter. She’s cold, a little dizzy, and the stuffy nose refuses to pass even though she keeps away from the dog. They go to play in the woods while the sun is still shining, and Amy’s enjoying herself as she watches Jake run with Leah in his arms towards a tree, touch her feet against the wood and yell Parkour! only to make the girl lose it with laughter every time, but she’s so tired when they get home, she’s barely sat down in an armchair before she’s nodded off again.

“Hey, Ames.” Jake’s firm hand on her shoulder makes her return to consciousness. His mouth is set in a hard line, and there’s a seriousness to the way he watches her that reminds her of the way he gets whenever she’s really sick, all worried and overly protective like he thinks she’ll instantly drop to the floor if he’s not right there. “Can we talk in private?.”

She nods, following him back to their bedroom where he closes the door. He sits down cross-legged on Leah's mattress, and she takes her chance to lay down on the bed, propping her head up with two pillows. “Okay. What’s up?”

He gives her a scrutinizing look. “Are you sure you’re just tired?”

“I mean, I feel a little off, I’m sort of dizzy and my allergies are annoying.” She sniffles. “Probably coming down with some bug. Why?”

“Your immune system is way better than mine, though. I’m always the first one to get sick after Leah and I’m fine. I don’t even think she’s been ill in weeks. Isn’t it weird that you’re the only one feeling sick?”

Amy shrugs. “Exception that proves the rule?”

“Yeah, or you’re not sick.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ames,” he says in a low voice, his tone slightly hesitant. “You don’t think there’s a chance you might be - I don’t know, pregnant?”

“Come on. How would that have happened?”

“Uh -”

She rolls her eyes. “Sure, but I think we established my body didn’t want it to happen for us again.”

“Maybe, but face the facts. You’re exhausted, your taste buds are funny, and you were like, seconds away from throwing up your coffee this morning. You’re cold, you’re dizzy…” He counts on his fingers as he lists the symptoms. “It sounds a lot to me like before we found out you were pregnant with Leah?”

“Or it sounds like it's been a couple of intense months, my body's fighting an infection and I’m getting ill once I'm relaxing.”

“Have you gotten your period this month?”

She glares at him. “Stop.”

“Well, have you?”

She sighs and pulls out her phone from her pocket, opening it to her period tracker. Current Cycle - day 33. “It's a few days late.”

Jake’s eyes go wide.

“No.” She shakes her head before he can say anything. “Nope. That doesn't mean anything. My cycle got screwed up after the treatments and they said it could take months to return to normal.”

“Yeah, but…”

“No. Seriously. We both know I’m not pregnant.”

He squints. “We do?”

“Yes. And I can’t let myself think about it, Jake, because if I do…” She bites her lip at the crystal-clear memories of ovulation strips, shots and negative pregnancy tests, of feeling betrayed by her own body time and time again. “I’ll start to go crazy. I just got away from that obsessive headspace. I can’t go there again, I can’t have another negative staring me in the face, I just… can’t.”

He nods slowly, gaze still full of worry as he sits down next to her. “Okay. I just thought I’d ask.” His hands rub soft circles on her neck to ease the tension there, his lips brushing against hers for a few seconds. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” She sighs. “God, I need another nap.”

“I’ll make an excuse for you,” he says, and she swears she’s never been more in love with him in her entire life.

Jake doesn’t bring it up again, and Amy’s grateful. It's not that she doesn't wish for his suspicions to be true - her falling pregnant naturally would be a miracle - but she can't let herself think about it, let alone hope. She spent a year hoping and it led nowhere. This isn't the first time she's imagined symptoms that turned out to be nothing. If she lets herself have hope another time, only to be faced by cruel disappointment, she's certain she's going to shatter.

The weather changes from gorgeous sunshine to heavy rainfall, effectively locking every present Santiago family member inside of the cabin and creating yet more chaos. Luis and Christian organize a game night for the kids, first consisting of child-friendly memory-games and puzzles, but as more and more kids go to bed, eventually the adults drag out Monopoly and get drunk. They also get insanely competitive. When Simon starts threatening Tony about having him do another challenge for his YouTube channel, and Tony threatens to wrestle Simon right there on the floor, the game is quickly changed to Cards Against Humanity which soon becomes a dangerous game of Never Have I Ever. Amy opts for alcohol-free wine, and it’s probably lucky, because her brothers are ruthless. Never have I ever had a catastrophic double date - drink. Never have I ever made out with someone at work - drink. Never have I ever accidentally startled a man with a genetic heart condition, resulting in his immediate death - drink, remind Julian he’s an asshole, and come up with a good revenge question. She’s relieved they go to bed before anyone can suggest a game of truth or dare.

The next day, she's feeling much better, and manages almost half a cup of coffee without nausea. She must've been right about it being some kind of infection, she thinks, pleased that it seems to be passing.

The weather isn't improving, so she teams up with a few of her brothers and their families to go to a nearby, kid-friendly, museum while Jake, Julian, and Simon visit a sneaker outlet. Leah finds an activity station and plays there for nearly fifteen minutes with her cousins before breaking down in tears when someone takes a crayon from her, and after it’s been another ten minutes of crying, Amy eventually chalks the child’s sudden fury down to low blood sugar. She ruffles through her bag for a snack and finds an unopened bag of dried mango, and two slices later, Leah is back to normal. Amy also finds an unopened tampon package, giving her a nudging reminder that her period’s still nowhere to be seen, but she shakes away the thought. Had this been a couple of months ago, she would've been rushing to take a test, and she gives herself a mental pat on the back for acting so calm about it now. She knows this means nothing and she's not stressing out. There’s this tingling, cramping, feeling low in her stomach anyway, aching for a moment before immediately fading. Surely that must mean her period is coming.

They go to bed early on their last night away, ready for the drive home the next day. Leah wakes up crying about a nightmare, so Amy ends up sleeping next to her in their bed with Leah's little legs curled against Amy's stomach and her hand gripping her wrist. As far as sleeping positions go, she could think of far more comfortable or ergonomic ones, but there's no denying the coziness of it. Leah snuggles her nose into the crook of Amy's neck, and Amy falls asleep just smelling her head, and if she’d ever been asked to describe the word peaceful with one situation, she would have chosen this.

At first, she thinks she's dreaming about a real past event. She's back in the bedroom of their apartment, with Jake sleeping on her right and Leah asleep in her room, but Amy's awake. She can't tell why, isn't fully aware of the narrative here, but she can tell that dream-Amy has an instinct. Something is causing her to get out of bed, walk towards their bathroom and grab a pregnancy test - one of the cheap paper strip ones - from a visible spot in the bathroom cabinet. Something is making her take it. Dream-Amy watches the test, sitting perched on the toilet and staring intently at the first line, and after what feels like the blink of an eye inside of her dream-reality, a second, faint but clear, line shows up.

Even though it's a dream, the explosive happiness is every bit as real as if she'd been awake. She takes the paper strip, wrapping it in a bit of toilet paper, and is about to go ask dream-Jake if he can see it too when she’s pulled out of the dream and back to reality.

“What the hell,” she mumbles as she opens her eyes. Jake and Leah are still sleeping, and it's every bit as dark outside as when they went to bed, but Amy's wide awake and officially weirded out. She's never been one for dream analysis or seeing them as omens of any kind, but something about the realistic feeling has caught her attention, leaving her confused and wondering if there’s any truth to it. She tries to repeat to herself that there isn’t, she isn’t pregnant and should go back to sleep, but her mind is reeling. She tries to do some breathing exercises to force her mind and body back to a relaxed state, but it’s out of reach. The what if-narrative plays on repeat in her head, and eventually, she accepts that she’s going to need to at least outrule the possibility. She’s pretty sure there’s a spare test left somewhere in her bag.

Carefully, she frees herself from the three-year-old’s grip and climbs over Jake instead. He grunts and opens his eyes for a second, but closes them again in the next.

Amy uses her phone’s flashlight to dig through the contents of her bag, finding her calendar, pencil case, notebooks, and a crossword magazine. Headphones, painkillers, an extra phone charger. More snack bars and packets of dried fruit. Wet wipes, tissues, hair ties, and some makeup. She moves on to the inner pocket, finding allergy medication, tampons, even an expired condom that seems to have nestled its way into the bottom of the bag and stayed there for years, but no spare pregnancy tests. She almost thinks she’s found one, but a closer look tells her it’s an ovulation indicator, and she groans with disappointment. She could have sworn she left one for emergencies, but suddenly it’s gone, and she could wait until tomorrow and buy one, but she wants - scratch that, she needs - to know now.

“Ames? Are you looking for something?” Jake’s voice is raspy, a mix of surprise and pure confusion in his tone, and she hums vaguely without looking back at him.

“I thought I had something in here,” she says in a whisper. “But I can’t find it. It’s nothing, you can go back to sleep.”

“What’re you tryna find?”

She sighs. “I had a weird dream, okay? So I want to take a pregnancy test, because I just need to know it wasn't real so I can go to sleep. I thought I had one in here, but I don’t, so…”

He yawns, and then, in a movement far swifter than she would expect from someone barely-awake, he gets out of bed and walks over to the plastic bag he brought home from the sneaker outlet.

“Jake, I’m sorry, but I don’t care about your sneakers right now,” she wheezes. He shakes his head and brings out another, smaller CVS plastic bag.

“I know,” he says, “but you might care about this.” He throws her a familiar, pink-and-white carton, and she’s not even caught it before she knows exactly what it is.

“You bought a pregnancy test.”

He nods.

“What - when - why?”

“There was a CVS close to the outlet, I told Julian and Simon I needed to buy some Aspirin, ran in and got this. They didn’t see it,” he assures her, noticing the worry on her face. “I was smooth. And as for why - I know you said you didn’t want to hope, but I thought in case you changed your mind and wanted to know, well... “ He shrugs. “It would suck if you were stuck here with no way of finding out, even if it was just another day. I know how much you hate not knowing.”

She twists the carton in her hands. “I really do hate it.”

“So, are you…”

“I’m going to take it. Now.”

“Now - now?”

“Now.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then they’re silently racing each other out the door.

Amy’s so used to the steps at this point, she doesn’t even feel the anxiety kick in until she places the test on the sink and nods at Jake to start the timer. There’s barely space for them both to sit on the floor of the tiny bathroom, so they’re squeezed together, him stroking her hair and holding her hand as she focuses on keeping her breathing steady.

It doesn't matter what it shows, she tries to tell herself without success. It’s just to check.

And yet, there's this odd sense of hope in her heart she doesn't recognize from the last months.

“How did you guess?” She asks Jake, and he wrinkles his forehead, so she clarifies. “You remembered all the symptoms.”

“Oh.” He blushes. “This is going to sound bad, but… do you remember before we found out you were pregnant with Lee? There was like a week before you took a test, where you kept complaining about how it felt like you were getting the flu, or some kind of infection, because you were feeling off.” He draws quotation marks with his fingers. “You kept repeating that. And I was so proud of myself, because I'm always the first one of us two to get sick, but I was feeling fine. I thought I’d finally get to brag, and I was so excited, but then we found out you weren't sick.”

“Just pregnant.”

“Yeah.” He smiles. “Which, of course, was so much better. Except I never got to brag. It's haunted me since then. So this time, when you said you were feeling off and like you were getting sick… I remembered, and I made a guess. Also, I’ve read the list in your binder. But honestly, it was mostly the first thing.”

Amy laughs, genuine and hearty despite her nervosity. “You're ridiculous.”

He puts his arm around her shoulders. “And yet you keep wanting to have kids with me.”

“It’s like I must be in love with you or something.”

Her comment makes him snicker, and she thinks, not for the first time, that there could never be another person she'd want to do this with - no matter the results on that test.

The timer rings. Jake turns it off.

“Do you want to check, or should I?”

“I don't think I can see another negative test,” she whispers, the fear making her heart beat out of her chest, and he nods and tells her to close her eyes. She hears him fumble for the test, and then he finds it, and there’s a moment’s silence that drives her crazy.

“Ames?”

“Yeah?”

“What’d you say two lines meant, now again?”

She opens her eyes, immediately snatching the test from his hands. “No way.”

It’s faint, but there’s an obvious second line.

Amy just stares at it. She's worried it’ll disappear, like her mind’s playing tricks on her, but it stays.

“This is crazy.” Tears of happiness flood her eyes once she speaks. “This is - this is absolutely insane.”

“Told you so,” says Jake in an attempt of sounding smug, but she can tell he’s about to tear up, too.

“This is positive.”

“Sure is.”

“Oh my god.” She can’t tell if she’s laughing or crying, but she’s shaking, unable to believe her eyes as she looks from the test to Jake and back at the test. “Oh my god, you’re going to brag about this forever.”

He grins. “Consider the fact that I won’t to be a testament to how much I love you.”

She’s too overwhelmed to know what to say, so she just hugs him, smiling into his chest as he peppers kisses to the top of her head.

“Hey, Ames?”

“What?”

“We’re having another baby.”

She’s spent a year wishing for it, getting used to the thought in her desperation to get there, yet his words are impossible to take in. Another baby.

“Seems that way,” she whispers, and he laughs.

There’s a second test in the carton, and Amy wants to take it right away, but Jake convinces her to save it for tomorrow so they can go back to bed before anyone notices they’ve been occupying this bathroom for a suspicious amount of time.

She doesn’t think she’ll be able to sleep, not when a thousand thoughts are running laps in her head and she’s so in shock she thinks she might still be dreaming, but then Jake’s hand sneaks under the hem of her t-shirt and rests low on her stomach to make sure they're warm, he mumbles, and she places her own hand over his and relaxes.

november.

Logically, Amy knows she’s pregnant.

All of the tests, a new one every day even though Jake tells her she’s being crazy again, are coming back two dark lines and plus signs and bolded words Pregnant, and the expensive test with the week indicator which shows how long it’s been since ovulation changes from 1-2 to 2-3 and 3+ Weeks. The fertility clinic gives her a blood test, confirms it’s a healthy pregnancy and schedules an early ultrasound two weeks later, which feels like an eternity. Time is moving excruciatingly slow, even slower when the nausea fully kicks in and she wants to spend as much of the day as possible laying down. She’s secretly happy she’s feeling terrible because that means the hormone levels are rising, and Jake insists on high-fiving her after the first time she throws up, but it does make the days feel even longer when all she wants is for them to pass.

Emotionally, the knowledge is much more difficult to wrap her head around. She’s terrified, analyzing every minuscule shift in her body in fear of there being something wrong and checking for blood in her underwear several times a day. She’s short on distractions, because she’s exhausted and moving too much makes her feel sick, so she’s mostly stuck on the couch after work watching movies and cuddling with Leah. They're not telling her yet - they're not telling anyone, except Rosa who figured it out soon as Amy declined a tequila shot - and Amy feels like a shitty parent who doesn't have the energy to run around and properly play with her kid right now, but Leah seems to get that her mom’s not feeling well, because she's more than happy to read books together and watch iPad until Jake comes home and takes her to the park for a bit.

She wants to be happy, and every time she adds another positive test to the growing collection, she is, but she’s also dreaming nightmares and waking up in cold sweats in fear that this will be taken away from them. It’s too good to be true, the kind of happy ending you read about but never experience, and she can’t for the life of her try to fathom that it’s real. In short, she’s so hormonal she cries at stubbing her toe in the doorway, so nauseous she has to force down the few things she can consider eating, feeling guilty over how little energy she has to give Leah and how much responsibility this puts on Jake, and she can’t even allow herself to trust that they are having another baby.

“This isn’t forever,” Jake tells her on a particularly exhausting evening after she's cried in his arms and eaten three lemon popsicles because they're the only thing that tastes remotely good. When she's cried a little more, about her fear and bad conscience and the deep shame in not being able to feel happy about something she's dreamt of for a year, he tells her, “just three more days until the scan,” and that does help.

Amy doesn’t want to exaggerate, but she’s pretty sure the hours between six a.m., when Leah wakes up, and nine a.m., when the ultrasound appointment is, are the longest three hours of her life. Mornings are enough of a struggle to get through with a stubborn three-year-old who’ll put up a fight about anything from clothes to breakfast to brushing her teeth if she’s in the wrong mood, and they’re not made any easier when Amy’s feeling like this, but it’s moving particularly slow today when nearly all of her focus is divided between worrying about the scan and trying to keep her breakfast down. In the end, Leah doesn’t brush her teeth this morning and she has a yogurt smoothie in the car, but they manage to drop her off in time and she gives them a long hug each, so Amy considers it a success.

Unfortunately, it’s a temporary one. She’s so nervous she can’t think straight, can’t focus on the Taylor Swift-tunes playing in the car or reply when Jake asks if she’s excited. Her head is playing possible nightmare scenarios on a loop, of there not being anything there, of them not seeing a heartbeat, or something else that will leave them no choice but to terminate the pregnancy. Taylor Swift sings something about cloaks and daggers and bright mornings, and Amy tries to see if she can memorize the lyrics for a distraction. She doesn’t get far before they get stuck in a traffic jam, though, giving them no option but to drive a few feet at a time, accelerating and braking on repeat.

She knows that Jake tries to drive as smoothly as possible. He’s a good driver. She doesn’t have a problem with his driving, but the constant starting and stopping, the inevitable jerking movements, is absolute hell for her morning slash all-day sickness and suddenly all her focus has shifted to trying not to throw up in a moving car.

“I’m really sorry, Ames,” says Jake after casting one glance at her pale complexion, and she doesn’t dare to move her head but she mumbles a ‘not your fault’ before she goes back to taking deep breaths.

She makes it through the congestion, and the nausea’s easing as they drive the last stretch to the clinic, but then there’s a slight bump as they drive into the parking lot and the fight is lost. She stumbles out of the car in search of a trash can, but it’s too far away. Instead, she has to publicly humiliate herself by throwing up right there on the curb just as another couple is walking out of the clinic and giving her what she assumes are grossed-out looks. She feels Jake’s hands on her shoulders as she coughs up the last bit, grimacing at the foul taste.

“Everyone’s going to think I’m hungover,” she mutters as he leads her to a spot further away, urging her to sit down.

“Oh yeah. That’s definitely what they think about all the women who puke outside of fertility clinics.”

His comment makes her laugh, but the laughter makes her feel sick again, so she stops.

“You okay?” He asks, carefully scratching her neck with one hand as he digs in his messenger bag with the other. “I have water if you want to rinse your mouth, and I’m pretty sure I have gum somewhere.”

“I’ll take water,” she says, accepting the green kid-size bottle that was definitely originally Leah’s and taking a cautious sip. “Sorry about this.”

“You’re sorry?” He lifts an eyebrow. “Damn, queen of unnecessary apologies. It’s okay.”

“I feel like crap,” she groans, ignoring him. “Sorry for whining.” “Okay there, ridiculous. Stop apologizing. It’s not something you can control.”

“But I don’t want to whine about this,” it comes out of her before she can stop it. “I don’t want to be sad, or scared. We fought so damn hard to get here! It fucking sucked! And now - I guess we’re having a baby, but I don’t know how to believe that, and I have to deal with the fact that pregnancy sucks, too!” She shakes her head, instantly regretting the quick movement but continuing to speak anyway. “I just want to be happy, and grateful, and I am. But I’m terrified. I can’t trust that it’s really happening, that it won’t be taken away from us again, and on top of that I feel awful all the time. I just… thought it’d be different.”

Jake looks a little taken aback by her sudden outburst, opening his mouth before closing it and watching her with that same worried look she’s seen way too much during the last weeks.

“It will be,” he promises once she stops talking. “You’ve done this before. You know it gets better. You get a baby out of it, which - there are worse deals.”

“Yeah. But it feels so far away. It doesn’t feel remotely real. I wanted us to be happy now, to relax and enjoy this, but it feels like everything sucks.”

“Isn’t that just life sometimes, though? It sucks, and then there are awesome parts, and then it sucks again, and then there’s more awesome stuff.” He grimaces, looking down at the curb before meeting her eyes. “I know you feel like crap. I know you’re scared. Honestly, so am I. But we’re about to see our baby for the first time,” he smiles, “and that’s at least one of the crazy awesome parts.”

She nods. “It is.”

“Yeah.” He reaches for her hand, squeezing it. “I just think that… there’s always going to be shitty things, right? Sure, this year was rough, and I wouldn’t want to do it again, but we also had a million amazing moments with Leah, and together, in-between the bad parts. When this baby comes,” he nods to her still-flat stomach, “we probably won’t be sleeping and everything will be nuts for a while before we figure it out, but we’re going to have two kids and it’s going to be the best.”

“I know.”

“I’m going to tell you something I heard from a very smart person once,” he grins, looking proud of himself. “Life is unpredictable, but as long as you’re with the right people, you can handle anything.”

“That person sounds smart. Did they also make a butt joke after that?”

“Sure did. Made me cry, and everything. But what I was actually trying to say was…” Jake blushes, and she can tell there’s a moment of emotional sincerity coming. “I’m with you. I know that. I also know that as long as I’m with you, all the bad stuff is survivable, and all the good stuff is a million times better. And I’d rather have hard days with you, and Lee, and I guess soon whoever this is,” he holds his hand to her stomach through her sweater, “than good days with anyone else.”

“Me too,” she snivels, having to wipe the tears on her shirt sleeve because of course, this is making her cry. “How’d you get so wise all of a sudden?”

“Married you,” he shrugs. “And had kids. Also, I got hella old.”

“You’re forty-two.”

“Exactly. Shh.”

Amy laughs, with tears in her eyes because he’s hitting that perfect spot between wisdom and humor that’s one of the many reasons she loves him so much, and the smile on his lips grows wider once he sees that he’s made her laugh.

“I love you so much,” she whispers, cupping his face with her hands.

“I know. Love you, too.” She kisses him, and he kisses her back for a second before immediately pulling away and scrunching his nose. “Okay, ew, no. Vomity breath. Gross.”

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to apologize,” she teases. “But I’ll take that gum too.”

“Let’s just go inside and look at our baby,” he says as he hands her the packet, and she doesn’t protest.

There are some routine questions and another blood test, and then they’re ushered into the ultrasound room. She’s nearly holding her breath as she lays down, eyes glued to the screen and Jake’s hand squeezing hers so tight she thinks he might stop the blood flow if he squeezed any harder.

At first, she’s scared she was right and there’s nothing in there, because everything is blurry and she’s not sure what’s what, but then it clears slightly and the ultrasound technician points out a white blob the shape of a lima bean, and there are tears of relief running down her cheeks.

The technician says and here’s the heartbeat, and Amy has to clasp a hand over her mouth to keep from crying harder than she already is when a whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh sounds through the room in quick little beats.

She could listen to that sound forever.

They get printed sonogram pictures of their fetus, which is slightly over an inch and just looks like a white blob but is well and truly perfect according to their doctor, and then they’re advised to go home and celebrate. They both have to stop crying first, though, so they stand outside the clinic for another while, just hugging without needing to say anything else.

“So,” Jake says when Amy’s finally found space to breathe again. “How do you want to celebrate?”

“Do you want to go to Target and look for another shirt that says Big Sister and some stupid cute tiny clothes?”

“Oh, you know I do.”

They get a long-sleeved pink shirt for Leah, six pairs of baby socks with animals on them and tiny pajamas with rainbow stripes, and then they buy alcohol-free champagne.

#my writing #b99 #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine-nine #peraltiago #jake x amy #b99 fic #brooklyn 99 fic #brooklyn nine-nine fic #b99 fanfiction #brooklyn nine-nine fanfiction #jake x amy fic #jake x amy fanfiction #peraltiago fic #peraltiago fanfiction #iwthwy

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alwaysahiccupandastrid · 5 years ago

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How To Train Your Dragon: Homecoming - Thoughts/Review!

#how to train your dragon #httyd #how to train your dragon: homecoming #httyd homecoming #hiccup haddock #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #astrid hofferson #toothless #light fury #zephyr haddock #nuffink haddock #night lights #hiccstrid #toothless x light fury #ruffrunner #dart #pouncer

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shreddedparchment · 6 years ago

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The Brightest Star Pt.01

Lovable Polestar

05/07/2019

Pairing: Thor x Reader Word Count: 9,492

Masterpost Warnings: language, eventual smut maybe, violence probably, cozy Thor, Thor in his undies

A/N: So, this started because I was telling someone about my original fiction and they just didn’t care? I’ve had others try to read it too and they never do. It’s a little heartbreaking when you feel so excited and happy about something and no one cares even when all you want to do is just share your excitement. So, that feeling sparked this fic. I wasn’t sure where I was going with it but now I do. I hope you like it. This is also for all those lovelies of mine that wanted me to do some more Thor. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Thor can vividly remember the first time he saw you. He can remember it so clearly that his heart still aches when he thinks back to that moment when his whole world lit up with a poignant and fierce fire. It engulfed him. It overwhelmed him. His skin began to hum, and then half a minute passed, and his fire was bathed in ice water and the misery set in.

You were sitting at a table, looking like other women that he’d seen. You were one face among many with no particular quality that set you apart. You were just another girl.

Then someone, the guy to your left said something that Thor couldn’t hear. Then the girl to your right said something. Then your eyes shone with stunning excitement. They sparkled and lit up like stars, gleaming bright amongst the other eyes in the room.

You smiled, the brilliance of it nearly knocking his breathe from his lungs because it was more than you looking adorable, it was the pure joy that radiated out of every facet in those damn eyes.

Your cheeks were spread so wide and tight he was sure that they must be hurting. It was a smile for the ages.

You looked from the guy to your left to the girl on your right and opened your mouth once to say something, but the girl leaned forward, and she reached out to grab the guy’s left hand. You shut your mouth.

Then the guy responded, and you opened your mouth again, but the guy shook his head and laughed and spoke once more.

You closed your mouth and the sparkle in your eye dulled a little. Like the sun hid behind dark clouds, overwhelming him in gloom. Your shoulders hunched as the two beside you continued to talk, animatedly exchanging words and laughter. You smiled lightly when they looked at you but then you sat back, shoulders slumped as you pulled your drink closer and took a long sip through your straw.

Slowly, as the two continued to talk, your eyes glazed over. All life had drained from them and all Thor could think about was how he might find a way to put that light back into your eyes.

Which brings us to today.

Thor had come to that same shop several days in a row, eager to see you again and when you finally showed up, you were alone but not for long.

When you were joined by the same two people as before, they greeted you brightly. Then the three of you sit at the same table and once again your eyes glazed over, and you’d sat in silence while your friends talked.

Occasionally Thor would see that brightness return but it never lasted more than a few seconds.

Thor didn’t mean to become a stalker. He seriously, really, truly, honestly didn’t mean to follow you out of the café. He was just so curious.

He followed you and your friends to a nearby park and then a small antiques shop. Then the male left and the female with you listened only halfheartedly as you talked to her.

She would listen for a few seconds and then her eyes would wander, and she’d interrupt you and point at something across the street or in a shop window or just cut you off because she was bored. Every time she did, you relented.

Thor hated her. Even now, as the two of you wander around the Metropolitan Museum of Art looking at the watercolor exhibit, you stop in front of a lovely piece with greens, yellows, and pinks—Thor’s too busy watching you to see what the painting actually is—and point at it, your eyes bright and stunning again.

Thor swoons, his heart thudding loudly in his chest.

Until your friend walks away while you’re still talking.

Your eyes lose their sparkle again and you look at her as she calls out for you. “Y/N! Look at this one!”

Thor growls, annoyed and frustrated for you. You sigh very lightly, so lightly he’s sure no one but he notices, and then move over towards your friend. You smile at her, no sparkle in your eyes but your smile is genuine. It’s kind and polite and patient.

The painted smile on a porcelain doll.

Why are you so perfect? Not that he likes your submissive side. He hates it, in fact. No, that’s not right. He loves it…wait? Loves it? Fuck, he loves it. Shit. What is he getting himself into?

He loves it because it’s yours. It’s a small side of the person you are. What he loves about it is that even in the face of all the overlooking these so-called friends put you through, you still manage to find joy in their company. You smile kindly at them. You take joy in your time with them even though the joy is only surface deep.

Thor can relate. How many battles had he fought after he’d lost his people? His family? His self-worth and felt only the subtle secondhand joy of his comrades after the fight was won? Sometimes, you do things just to pass the time.

Thor keeps to the opposite side of the large room. He avoids looking at you for more than a few seconds at a time until you stop at yet another painting and turn your back on him.

Your eyes light up again and it's all he can do to stay put. He licks his lips, clenches his fists, crumpling the informational pamphlet he'd grabbed on the way in.

He'd already ruined it by rolling it up over and over, fidgeting with it every time your friend interrupted you or moved away when you were talking.

Impatiently, with an itch to move to you, he smacks his large thigh with the rolled up paper. The tap, tap, tap, isn’t loud enough to draw your attention but it does get him some ugly looks from the couple to his right.

He's not even facing the wall anymore. His body is turned fully, wearing a navy blazer with a pair of matching navy slacks, black and white Chucks, and underneath the blazer is a plain white t-shirt. It's a little sheer. The toasty peach of his skin is slightly visible through the stretched white fabric.

He looks at the annoyed couple to his right and gives them a toothless smile, chagrin across his face. “Sorry.”

They don’t seem to care that he's Thor. They move past him, still frowning.

With a furrowed brow, Thor turns back to you, eyes still shining bright. He tries to hear what you're saying and he can just make out your voice if he tries hard enough.

“-I think it's the mountain. It kinda looks like a stormy sky if you don’t notice the subtle strokes that shape the peak. What do you like about it?” You ask your friend but she's looking down at her phone.

“Hold on, Seth is calling.” She puts the phone to her ear and walks away. “Hey, Seth. Where are you?”

Thor's too busy watching you to look after your friend.

You're biting your lip, watching the girl walk away before you turn your previously shining eyes on the painting.

The audacity these people have to ignore your excitement, the genuine elation you feel on a daily basis, constantly stepped on?

The urge to join you is renewed and he takes several steps in your direction but your friend comes barreling back towards you, heels clicking and clacking against the waxed floor, just when he's made up his mind to introduce himself.

She catches herself on your arm and you turn an excited smile to her.

“Seth finally asked me out!”

He can see your face fall. You blink a few times but before your silence can register as too long, too awkward—Say something, little mouse. You'll give yourself away! Thor thinks desperately—you smile again.

“That's so great Nan. I'm-I'm glad he finally got his shit together.”

Thor smiles, genuinely surprised yet pleased with your vulgarity in such an austere place as the Met. His cheeks flush, the gentle way your mouth wrapped around the word was utter perfection.

“Me too!” The girl, Nan, curly brown hair, caramel skin, and wide hips gushes.

“He should have come with us.” You say but Nan is not listening. She's on that cellular phone again. Can the damn woman not carry on a conversation with you for more than ten seconds?

You watch her text and in stark contrast to this Nan's elation, your timid sadness stands out. How can no one but him see it? What's wrong with everyone in your life?

Thor can tell with that look alone that this Seth—the blonde man that has been meeting you at the café for two weeks—is someone you yourself desired.

It takes Nan a few more minutes, four and twenty-seven seconds actually—Thor counted—to focus back on her present company. She's still got her arm wrapped around your elbow.

She looks at the painting and stares for all of two seconds before, “Is that mountains? You'd think they'd have painted a clearer picture.”

You smile, amused for some reason. Thor would really rather tell her to silence her ridiculous comments.

“It's watercolor, Nan. It's not supposed to be super clear. It's the artist's impression. You see how clear the people are? But the entire background is blur-"

“Ugh! Y/N, this is boring. Let's go watch a movie or something. Yeah?”

Thor's hand crumples up the pamphlet into a tight compressed ball.

“Oh.” You mutter, disappointment saturating your beautiful tone. “Okay.”

“Yay!” Nan exclaims then begins to drag you away.

Thor watches you crane your neck to get another look at the painting before Nan completely pulls you from the room.

With slow steps, Thor moves to the painting and reads the small placard.

The Lake of Zug

Artist: Joseph Mallord William Turner (British, London

1775–1851 London)

Date: 1843

He stands there, staring at the painting for what might be hours. All the while he ponders the very possibility that what you might see in this painting is the very thing he saw in you when he saw your eyes light up and then extinguish.

He accepts, after a time, that it is not possible for this painting to make you feel the way he felt when he first saw you brighten then dull.

You are way more exquisite than this painting with its blurry watercolor mountain.

-----

Thor continues to stalk you. Okay, he doesn’t stalk you. Or he tells himself he doesn't. But…the consensus is…

“Thor's stalking a girl.” Nat says, amused and brimming with smugness.

“I am not…pfft…stalking a girl.” Thor waves her off, rolling his eyes, quirking a brow as he lifts his cup of coffee and takes a sip.

“Yeah, you are.” Nat assures him, leaning over the counter with her chin in her hand. Long delicate fingers rest against the curve of her jaw and rap the dark quartz countertop.

“Am not.” Thor says, a swift heavy swallow before his cup is laid aside.

“Yeah.” Nat chuckles because it's too good to be true. Too cute. Too weird that Thor, the God of Thunder, is obsessed with a girl and doesn’t have the courage to speak to her. “You are.”

“Look, I am not stalking her. I am merely going to the café that she goes to every day, to possibly see her. And if—if she happens to be there, I-"

“Follow her?” Nat offers.

“No! I walk in a similar direction until she reaches her destination then I go my own way. Unless she happens to go to a place where I might maintain a considerable distance while I-"

“Watch her?”

“While I-I-I-" Thor stumbles, not sure how to spin this one.

“Gotta tell ya pal, it kinda sounds like you're stalking this dame.” Bucky slides in beside Nat, her arms immediately wrapping around his bicep where she leans her head—in what she insists is a platonic expression of affection—and laughs as Thor huffs.

“Fine! Whatever. I’m stalking her. Are you happy?” Thor booms, arms raised in the air then childishly crossed across his broad chest, biceps large and beefy, sun-bathed skin stretched and bulging.

“What are they happy about?” Steve wonders, moving into the kitchen, mid-yawn.

“Thor finally admitted to stalking that girl he saw in the café down the block.” Bucky explains.

Steve stops, eyes shining, mouth open in mock surprise as he stares from Bucky to Nat and then to Thor. He shuts one eye, still sleepy. “Woah, hey. That's progress. Good for you, Thor.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Thor grumbles.

“Woah!” Nat chastises, lifting her head from Bucky's arm, amused but also surprised by Thor's defensiveness. “Hey, we're just trying to help.”

Steve doesn’t seem to care. He’s already rifling in the fridge for food.

“How? By making me feel worse? I know I shouldn’t be watching her. I’ve tried to stay away but I can't stop thinking about her.” Thor sighs, looking down at his cup and swirling the smooth brown liquid, still steaming.

“Guess he's got it bad.” Bucky whispers to Nat who nods. He turns back to Thor then takes Nat's cup of coffee to steal a sip. “What is it about this girl, Thor? I mean, you’ve been around for almost…what? Fifteen-hundred years? And you’ve seen thousands of girls here on Earth. What's so special about this one?”

Thor has wondered this very thing over and over since he first laid eyes on you.

It makes absolutely no sense. You are not exquisitely beautiful to anyone but him--or so it seems as you only every draw his gaze while out and about. Thor has come to see you as the only beauty in all the realms that could possibly match the need in his heart. A fitting piece. His ideal. Yet, you are nothing like the women that the people of Earth deem as particularly desirable. That is to say, there is nothing wrong with you either.

Had Thor not seen you in that exact moment when your exuberance had shot out from those dazzling eyes of yours, stunning him into immobility, changing his heart forever and then fallen dull and sad the very next moment, perhaps Thor would not feel the way he does?

“I don’t know.” He admits. “I think that is why I cannot get her out of my head. She’s just so…so…so…”

“Vulnerable?” Nat offers.

“Hot?” Bucky wonders, Nat smacks his arm. “Ow.”

“Right?” Steve suggests, sipping his cup of coffee with a knowing look in his storm blue eyes. Thor meets them and his own brighten considerably.

“Yes. Right. That she is. I don’t know what makes her right, but she is so very right. And she is indeed most vulnerable and strong at the same time though her strength is not in the way we would count it. She’s not a fighter. Not in that sense.”

“There’s more than one way to be strong.” Nat affirms, nodding at Thor with a proud smile on her lips, her fingers gently stroking the muscle of Bucky’s bicep as she takes another drink of her coffee.

Thor turns to Bucky who’s sitting now with his elbow on the table, his chin in his hand, staring at the Thunder God.

“And she most definitely is hot. Perhaps not like those women on your magazines or in your picture boxes.”

“Dude, you know what they’re called.” Bucky gripes, amused.

“Televisions, yes. She is not that. She’s real.” Thor gushes slow and mystified.

His eyes are a mist of love cantered outpouring unrestrained and unbidden. He can feel it flow out from him in waves of gossamer heat, enveloping all of them and painting them in beautiful heaven light. Golden warm and saturated in allure.

Can they feel it? Can they feel how he loves you already?

Nat’s hand tightens around Bucky’s bicep and Bucky’s chin slips from his hand as he shifts in his seat, radiating towards Nat. His arm wraps around her shoulders and he pulls her closer.

Steve’s eyes glaze over briefly then with a lovestruck look across his usually calm expression, he smirks.

“Woah, there. Reel that in, buddy. We don’t want the whole tower to start finding closets to make whoopee in.” Steve’s smirk shifts to a grin as his eyes move over to Nat and Bucky who are sitting much closer to each other now, Nat’s leg draped over Bucky’s right knee.

“Oh, sorry.” Thor blushes, feeling woeful for his slip. “I forget sometimes the effect I have on the people of Earth. I don’t use that ability much. Have had no use for it. How strange. This is the first time it's slipped out.”

Slowly Nat and Bucky slap out of the daze as Thor reigns in his uncanny fertility booster. Nat blushes scarlet as she realizes she’s practically on Bucky’s lap and quickly scrambles off of it.

“Oh, I’m…sorry.” She whispers huskily at him.

“No, it’s my mistake.” Bucky hurries to appease her, cheeks burning along with hers.

They renew their distance and put an extra foot between them for good measure.

Thor eyes them cautiously. He knows what’s been budding between them, but they still haven’t-

“Anyway,” He begins. “You are right in your assumptions that she is nothing but a normal girl. And she is that, but she is so much more. To me. I don’t know why.”

“Hot doesn’t always have to mean physically attractive.” Bucky offers, still blushing but calmer. Though, he keeps stealing glances at Nat.

“But she is physically attractive. She’s attractive to me. Her body is perfection.” Thor argues.

“And that’s great.” Bucky tells him. “It’s good that you’re attracted to her physically. I just mean that a perfect body—the women you were talking about in our magazines and on T.V. and movies—it doesn’t always mean one thing. What I’m saying is that, even if she’s not perfect to me or Steve or any other guy on the planet, if she’s perfect to you, then that’s great, Thor. But—and I’ll kill you if you tell anyone I said this—you aren’t just after her for that are you? To…bury the old hammer?”

“How dare you accuse me of such misconduct!” Thor shoots to his feet, hand banging the table.

“I didn’t!” Bucky hurries to calm him. “I’m just saying that while being attracted to her from a distance is great, maybe you should finally try and talk to the girl?”

“He’s right.” Nat agrees. “We know you like what you’ve seen so far, but what if what she has to say doesn’t hold up? You aren’t planning on stalking her forever, are you?”

Thor calms down instantly, slowly sitting back down to wrap his hand around his cup once more. “Please don’t call it stalking.” He begs.

Nat smiles. “Fine, but you are going to talk to her, right?”

“Yes.”

“When?” Bucky asks.

“I-I don’t know.” Thor grieves, grabbing fistfuls of blonde hair, grown out in waving locks that just reach the tips of his ears. He needs to cut it again.

“Soon, Thor. You can’t keep following her. She’ll think it’s weird. God of Thunder or not. You follow a girl; it means you’re a creep.” Steve insists.

“But I’m not a creep.” He sobs, no actual tears, just the sentiment. “I swear I’m not.”

He looks desperately between Nat and Bucky then finally at Steve who is nodding.

“We know that, Bud. But…do yourself a favor and talk to her sooner rather than later. You don’t want to be that Avenger. The one people read about in the tabloids.”

“Oh, you mean me?” Bucky turns to look at Steve, a smirk in place.

“Yes.” Steve says and sips his coffee.

“Right.” Thor agrees, sitting up straighter, downing his drink then rising to his feet. He pulls the front of his hoodie down, adjusting the collar so that it looks neater. “Right. I can do this. I’ll talk to her. Yeah. I will. It can’t be that hard, right? I can do this.”

“Not wearing that you can’t.” Bucky frowns. “Trust me, you show up in a hoodie…”

“He’s still pretty hot, Buck.” Nat assures him.

“Still.” Bucky insists, nodding at Nat with an I know he’s hot, alright? expression. “Trust me. At least wear that thing you wore that time when you followed her to the Met. That navy blazer.”

“Again?” Thor wonders, worried. What if you’d seen him in it and he hadn’t noticed? It has been weeks though.

“Then we’ll get you something else, but definitely don’t go in a hoodie and jeans. Save that for when she’s known you for a while. For when you’re actually dating.”

“Dating? Courting?” Thor smiles, his heart aflutter, his stomach twirling. “Y/N and I? Courting?”

It fills him with a humming euphoria, the idea of you and him dating.

He pictures it. You cuddled in his arms on a sofa watching TV or reading a book while he watches you, that beautiful brilliance in your eyes stunning and agonizing all at once.

That euphoria rolls over his friends again and only when he looks at Bucky and Nat, Nat straddling Bucky’s hips with her hands in his long dark hair, does Thor realize he’s doing it again.

This time Steve is too amused to interrupt. He’s leaning his elbows on the counter, staring at Nat and Bucky with a smug smile.

“Oh, sorry.” Thor shuts it off, clearing his throat nervously.

It takes a second, but Nat suddenly straightens her hands, gasping lightly as she looks back at Bucky’s hands secured around the curve of her butt.

“Hands, Barnes, or I’ll cut them off.”

“Oops.” Bucky says, though he sounds anything but apologetic. “Thor’s fault.”

Nat rises and now the shade of a cherry tomato, she marches out of the kitchen.

Bucky turns a blushing soft smile to Thor and shakes his head once. “Thanks, man.”

“You’re welcome.”

It has been almost six months since Thor first saw you. Over time he has come to appreciate your quiet nature. Not because he would prefer to have you silent. He longs to speak with you and get your side of many things.

However, he can see the way you work now. Your mind. He can almost see you thinking. Doing it. The subtle art of listen, look, learn and then speak—if those horrible people you call friends ever allow you to do so, that is.

Today, Thor made sure to get up half an hour early. He poured through his closet and the meager pickings of fine clothes within. He can't use the navy blazer. You might have seen him in that though he has no reason to suspect you have.

There’s a black tie suit but…that's too formal, right? He's got several nice pants. Trousers? Slacks? He's not sure which ones they are exactly but he picks a nice black pair, stiff crease lines at the front and back.

He tosses his towel aside and begins to pull them on before he thinks better and carefully folds them on top of the drawer for his collection of fancy watches. A gift from Tony though he hardly ever wears them.

He rifles through the second drawer and produces a pair of red briefs then slips them on, adjusting himself in them with a frown. He's not much for underwear, truth be told but with you…he feels weird dangling about in his pants.

He smiles as he pictures the flush you might get from realizing he's not wearing underwear. Would you be embarrassed? You’re so sweet. So gentle. So perfect.

He places both hands on his now brief covered hips and can’t quite wipe the smile from his face. He looks up into his full length mirror and his cheeks are red. His eyes are brimming with excitement. His smile is goofy and wide and he hasn’t felt this eager in so long.

Not for a girl. Only for battle.

“Snap out of it, Thor. Get it together.” He chastises, clearing his throat as he realizes how stupid he must look, standing there in his underwear smiling like a dumbass.

He grabs his pants and slips them on. Muscles rippling, he pulls on a plain grey t-shirt then moves to look at his shirts. Most of his button ups look too stifling. Tight and hot. Choking.

Although, with the weather on the more brisk side, hot might not be a bad idea.

He slides over to the jackets and sweaters and finds a thick, soft, knit navy sweater. Too thick for both an undershirt and the sweater. He peels off his shirt and then slips the sweater on.

He pushes the sleeves up to just below his elbows and then moves back to his watches to select one that’ll match.

As he chooses his shoes, a pair of black boots, he feels his heart ache in nervousness. It quivers, afraid.

What if you don't like him? What if you get one look at him and simply get up and leave? What will he do with himself? He'll be heartbroken.

This is foolish. He should just keep watching you from afar. This is safer. This is better.

If he never tries to talk to you, then you can never reject him. He can continue to watch you from a distance and enjoy your dwindling smiles.

Dwindling. Less and less do you smile. Still as observant as always, but you almost rarely speak with your friends though you still sit with them and accompany them places.

No. He must show you that there are some who will hang on your every word. That you are worth listening to. You matter. So much. To him. Already.

You have yet to speak a word, but you are already so important.

Somehow Thor is able to find his courage and he heads out, dressed nicely enough to impress with the easy casualty of his outfit.

With Bucky’s approval—who then takes a quick exit when Nat wanders into the common room—Thor heads out to see you now feeling sure that he’s doing the right thing.

The café is not as busy as it usually is. Thor understands that you like this. For as long as he’s been following you—he refuses to see what he’s been doing as stalking, damn Natasha—he’s known that you come early on purpose. You show up an hour before your friends and he’s honored that by staying away and only coming at his regular time instead of the earlier hour you set aside for yourself.

He’d shown up by chance one day, to ask the barista what your favorite drink was as you bring your own reusable cup and he can never see what they put in it, only to find you sitting at your usual table. Alone. Enjoying the silence of the early morning with your phone screen shining up at you. What do you look at in that hour?

Thor really wants to know.

The little bell above the door dings and Thor moves in, searching for you the instant the rich caffeinated air fills his lungs. Hazelnut, vanilla, mocha, and caramel; cinnamon, sweet syrup, chocolate, and the smell of baking bread welcome him warmly.

He finds you as he had that one morning. Sitting at your usual table—reading, right in the middle of the shop, four chairs around a small square birch yellow table. The sheen of wood inviting and cool. Luckily for him, your table is near the register.

He adjusts his sweater. Nervously he strokes the small spiky hairs on the sides of his head where he had Steve buzz it short again leaving a long wide strip along the top of his head slightly longer. He fixes his watch, regretting his choice to wear it as he’s not used to it and it’s distracting as hell.

The closer he gets the more he can see what you’re wearing. Your blue coat is hung on the back of your chair. He’s seen it before. The rest he has not and he almost stumbles as he bumps into a chair, accidentally shoving a patron forward into his coffee.

“Oh, forgive me.” Thor begs. “Sorry. So sorry. I’ll buy you a new coffee.”

Thor leans down to whisper at the man who waves him off then seems to realize that it’s Thor having bumped into him.

“Oh my-Can I have an autograph?” He asks excitedly, beginning to rise but Thor quickly pushes him back down by the shoulders so that he remains glued to his seat.

“Shh, yes, of course.” Thor gives him a tight nervous smile and quickly signs his name on the first page of the book the man holds up for him.

“Thank you so much! My wife is such a fan!”

“Oh.” Thor smiles wider, flattered. “How kind of her. Please, keep your voice down.”

He has nothing to worry about though. You don’t look up. You’re wrapped up in your book.

Thor’s only temporarily distracted because he tears his eyes back to you in your gray long sleeved sweater, your soft orange suspender skirt—large buttons along the front and large round buckles at the shoulders—and a pair of worn brown leather boots on your feet.

Your hair so often left to its own devices is gathered high on your head into a messy bun leaving your neck exposed for his eyes to feast on.

He has to force his eyes away from you because you’re beautiful and he’s staring and as lovely as your eyes look all brilliant, devouring your book, he needs to stop staring!

He turns to the barista and gathers his thoughts to focus on his plan.

“Woah, you’re here again today Mr. God of Thunder?” The short barista asks, green eyes shining, excited smile on her face.

“Hello.” He peeks back over his shoulder at you but you’re still just staring at your book. “Just Thor is fine.”

“Right. Yeah, cool. What can I get for you Mr. Thor?”

“No. Just ‘Thor’.” Thor insists, slightly muttered under his breath in embarrassment.

“Oh. Okay. Th-Thor.” The barista giggles. “What can I get for you Mr. Thor? I mean, Thor! Just Thor!”

Why is she being so loud?! Thor sighs and he hears you shift behind him. He doesn’t dare look. “Um…I don’t know. Yesterday I had-”

“A regular coffee. Cream. Two sugars.” The barista laughs again and though she is sweet, Thor is beginning to worry about the amount of noise she’s making. “Would you like the same today?”

Behind he can hear the scrape of your chair and he turns to look for you. You’re getting up, gathering your things. No! You can’t be leaving. With your arms full as you hold your coat, book, and purse, you hesitate then move towards one of the alcoves along the far wall.

Damn barista! She was being too loud and probably drove you away. You like your silence in the morning.

You shove your coat into the booth, your purse thrown on top of it and your book deposited on the half table that protrudes from the wall. A small lamp lights the space, dim lights overhead. It’s in all reality a booth with only one side as if someone decided to rip it in half and then place the seats in alcoves one in front of the other.

The setup, minus the walls in the middle, remind Thor of the seats that he’d once seen in a yellow school bus when a group of kids had visited the tower.

You come back, grab your cup, and Thor knows that it’s now or never.

“Excuse me, Miss?” Thor’s voice is trembling, his hands are shaking with nerves and he hopes that you can’t tell and that no one from the team is spying on him because he has never felt himself so vulnerable before.

He feels exposed, like a vein, easily cut and raw.

You freeze, startled to be addressed by him it seems because your eyes are wide as saucers. Your lovely mouth pops open as you stare at him, perplexed and shocked.

“I’m sorry to bother you but, might you perhaps make a suggestion? I like coffee but have never had anything more than a plain coffee with cream and sugar.” Thor explains, hoping to bury the shake in his voice with his words and a fidgety smile.

He curls in on himself. Hoping to seem less intimidating with his shoulders hunched.

Your eyes wander to the barista and your brow narrows in more confusion.

Speak to me, my pearl. Thor thinks, pleading wildly with you silently.

“Wouldn’t the barista know more about what you should try than I would?” Your voice is surprisingly strong. Sure. Nothing like his quaking timber.

“Oh, but, your coffee al-” He stops himself and chooses his words carefully. “Your coffee smelled so tempting just now when I passed you. What are you having?”

Shit. He’d almost said always smells so tempting. He must be careful.

Your perplexed expression doesn’t waver. Instead you stand up straight and bring your cup up to your nose to smell but beyond the White Chocolate Mocha that he knows you are drinking, he can smell you and you smell more exquisite than he thought possible. Like coconut and strawberries and the slightest hint of nutmeg.

How is even your smell so tempting and perfect?

“It’s a White Chocolate Mocha.” Your hands are cupped around your mug, soft fingers curled gently. “Without the whip cream.”

Your lips are perfect. Kissable. He would love to taste the coffee on them.

“If you have a sweet tooth though, with the whip will be better.” You reach up and tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear and Thor wishes he were your hand so that he might caress the sides of your head as you just have.

“Sweeter.” You assure him and your face finally relaxes into a soft and stunning smile. It must be no larger than a slight curve to the corners of your lips and yet it transforms your face and you are alight again.

Thor can’t breathe.

“R-Right.” He wheezes, then clears his throat when your smile grows larger at the sound of his voice. “Right. Thank you. I will try that.”

Your eyes are shining so bright, life breathed into them by the discussion of coffee for some reason. Your lips part and you laugh. You actually laugh. Not an audible laugh. It’s just a sigh. A small puff of sweet air from your lips as your eyes shift down to his shoulders then back up to meet his eyes and Thor suddenly feels a swell of pride to know that he actually tried to look good for you.

Do you like what you see? Gods, let her like what she sees.

You nod and without another word you wander over to your selected alcove and slide into the booth. You steal one more glance at him and then shyly look away and bury your nose once more in your book.

Thor is floating. He feels as light as a feather. Like he could fly. Well, he can actually fly. But he feels as if gravity were nothing. He might float up to the ceiling and crash through to the floor above. He might rise higher and higher until he’s in the sky itself, floating amongst the birds and clouds.

He doesn’t remember placing the order for your suggestion but suddenly his name is being called by the barista. She’s pouting as she places his cup on the counter and slides it over to him, not releasing it until he has it held within his hands.

“Thank you.” He mumbles. Smiling stupidly at her.

As he turns to look back towards you, all he can see is your elbow, hidden in the booth as you are, but just your elbow shines in pristine light.

Thor thinks back to all the teasing he’s endured from the team over his crush on you, for that is what this must be. A crush. Honestly, all the teasing was worth it if it eventually led to such a small but treasured moment.

You. Smiling. At him.

Twitterpated. The word Sam had teased him with not two weeks ago pops into his head and he’s smiling like a sap. Too enthralled with you to care what he might look like to others.

With your tiny laugh playing over and over in his head, Thor is instilled with a sudden confidence and he marches forward, careful not to seem too eager but also unwilling to hide his enthusiasm for you. He crosses into view and he sees your eyes focused hard on your book.

He stops, sliding a little as he hesitates to interrupt you. You look so invested that he almost wishes he was that book. He’d give anything for you to gaze at him like that.

You flip the page and don’t see him, although you tilt your head a little so that you’re facing him as you read.

Suddenly your eyes burst into sunshine, twinkling like the starlit nights on Asgard, bewitching and majestic. How the hell is it possible that you can fit an entire galaxy into your eyes? That must be the only way that your eyes can sparkle like that. There is no other explanation.

Then you laugh. Thor’s heart shatters then mends and becomes whole once more only to erupt into a gallop at the small sound of your actual giggle. A real giggle. He suspects this is what his mother had meant when she’d told him that when she first heard him laugh as a baby, her world had suddenly centered and nothing else mattered than to make him happy. Then when Loki had come and he’d laughed, her world shifted again and now she had two suns shining in her sky.

This is what she probably meant because nothing will ever be the same after hearing that giggle. He must make you laugh. He’ll make you happy or die trying.

“Excuse me?” He says bravely, taking one large step to move up to the edge of the table you’re at. The alcove is smaller than him and he has to duck a little so that you might see all of him.

“Oh, hi.” You smile, kindly, sweetly.

Can he kiss you yet? Your eyes are still shining. Up. At him. He’s awash in their purity. He might just stand there forever. If only there was a way to freeze a moment.

“Hi.” He says, deep voice shaking in his chest.

You smile a little more, huff another one of those tiny laughs, and lay your book down. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He says stupidly. “I mean, I already said that. I was wondering if I might join you?”

“Oh.” Your smile falls away, replaced by genuine surprise. “S-sure.”

Why are you stuttering?! “I do not have to, if you would prefer to read and enjoy your coffee alone-”

“No!” You hurry to say, smiling that sweet smile again. “It’s not that, I just-Of course, you can join me. If you’d like?”

You almost seem unsure but you’re already shoving your coat over and making room for him. The booth isn’t small, but it isn’t large. For someone like Thor there are rarely large enough seats.

“I would like it very much.” And he smiles, unable to fight the heat in his chest and the way it drives him towards you. He slides in, realizing as you lean back that he’s sliding too close to you too fast, his arm already draped around the back of your seat.

He quickly makes it seem as if he were simply trying to get himself comfortable as he settles into the spot beside you and then brings his arm back forward and wraps his own hands—both of them, best not be tempted—around his hot cup of coffee.

You’re sitting facing him, slightly turned, your right knee touching his left and he can feel your skin’s heat through his pants.

No touching, Thor. He reminds himself. For even though he’s been watching you for such a long time, you have only just met him.

For almost five whole minutes, the two of you sit in utter silence, sipping your coffees and saying nothing. You look up at him with those shining eyes and you smile. Thor smiles back, unable to speak in case you do.

He doesn’t want to interrupt you! You’ve had six months of withdrawal. He’s watched you shrink and shrink until you became so overlooked that you were never asked your opinion by those you counted as friend. And it became natural that you never offered it freely.

Say something, my cherub. Anything. I will listen.

When he thinks he might go mad, you actually lower your hands into your lap and look down at them shyly as you bite your bottom lip. “H-How do you like the coffee? Too sweet?”

You look up and meet his eyes and he almost doesn’t realize that you’ve asked him a question because he’s so enamored with the sound of your voice, easy and tentative, uncertain in its strength all of a sudden.

“Er, no. It’s just right. Perfect. The whip cream is great.” He takes a sip as if to prove it to you.

“I-” You hesitate, and your confidence seems to be wavering. No. He wants you to be confident! Speak to me, my gem. Tell me everything. “I actually don’t like the whip cream. Sometimes they forget to take it off and I’ll drink it like that, but I prefer not to have it.”

“Do you not like the taste?” Thor’s more lurid self disappoints. Though the whipped cream back on Asgard had been a bit less saturated in sugar, they had used it very similarly. In the kitchen…and in the bedroom.

“Oh, no. It’s not that. It’s just messy. It makes the coffee all weird. I like whip cream. In moderation.” You explain, then reach up to touch your cheeks.

Was he too obvious? Shit.

“I see. Sugary foods are best in moderation. Or so the team keeps telling me. I never leave them any Pop Tarts and they get angry at me.”

You laugh. Amused by his story about being chastised by his team? Should he share more of them? No! He’ll let you dictate the flow of conversation.

“I’m sorry-” Thor suddenly realizes that he hasn’t introduced himself. “I seem to have lost my mind today. I am Thor, son of Odin. God of Thunder.”

You huff another irresistible laugh. “I know. I mean, it’s nice to meet you.”

Thor’s cheeks flush. Of course, you’d know him. He’s everywhere. Not on purpose but being an Avenger does that.

“Though honestly, dressed like that, I didn’t realize it was you at first. You look different than when you’re in your uniform?” Your eyes roam his form. Devouring his outfit.

“A bad different?” He worries.

“No! No. You look…” You stop yourself and touch your cheeks again.

You look so good bashful. Gods, he’d really like to hug you and kiss you. But no doubt he would scare you away if he tried.

Small steps, Thor. Take your time.

He blushes redder. “And what is, if you do not mind my asking, your name?”

“Wow, I’m an idiot.” You frown. “Sorry. My name is Y/N. Y/N y/l/n.”

Like he didn’t already know that. “It is my great honor to meet you, Y/N y/l/n.”

Though, to be fair, he didn’t know your last name until this moment.

“Y-Y/N…” He stutters over your name. Somehow saying it aloud finally, to you. To your face. Gods, that face.

This time he's very aware as that golden wave of euphoria washes over him. He sees it reflected in your eyes for a moment. A daze, and you scoot closer.

No! Thor shuts his eyes, shoving that impulse aside. He won't make you do anything with that.

When he opens his eyes however, he sees that you’re fussing with your jacket. Leaning towards him so that you can pull it out from under your butt.

Wait…had you not responded to his thing? His power?

He turns it on again, focusing on his intense desire to have you, to keep you, to love you.

You look at him once your jacket is out and you flatten it against the wall then turn to face him a little better. You lean back against it and give him an innocent smile.

And you wait, hands in your lap as you sit facing him. Legs carefully crossed. Thumbs twiddling. Patiently waiting for him to speak even though the push of attraction is emanating from deep in his belly.

He shuts it off again, clearing his throat. “Um…”

What does this mean? Do you not like him? Are you not at all attracted to him? If he takes it from what happened with Nat and Bucky, his thing only works when the two people are already emotionally involved or highly compatible.

Are you and he not compatible? That is unacceptable.

Thor reaches out, placing his right hand on the table, tapping his finger against the edge of your book as he tries to focus on just you again and not what your immunity to his pull might mean.

“Um…what is this book about? You looked very engrossed when I walked up.” Thor smiles softly.

You look to your book and your eyes brighten in that heartwarming way and Thor forgets his worries because all that matters is that look of excitement in your eyes.

“It's a novel. A er…a love story to be honest.” You seem embarrassed for a moment. “Do you read novels?”

“I must confess all the books I have read were mainly in my studies as a Prince of Asgard. While that did mean reading a few classics, they were of Asgard.”

“Ugh, I should probably be reading educational books. Non-fiction. But I-I'm a sucker for a good love story.” You chew on your lip and Thor wants nothing more than to reach over and trace that bottom lip with his thumb.

“What is this one about?” He asks again, eager to keep that excitement in your eyes.

And it's there, in your eyes, for all of two seconds before it fizzles.

“You wouldn't be interested.” You tell him. He can hear the defeat in your voice. You’ve given up. You’re not prepared to show your excitement to anyone. After what might be a lifetime of being overlooked, let alone the past six months.

How long before Thor found you had you been timidly stepping aside, letting others speak while you kept your words to yourself?

You deserve to be heard.

“If you are interested…I am interested. Please, tell me.” He begs gently, his voice low because he so wants you to be comfortable with him.

You look at him, eyes boring into his as if in search of a lie but Thor only smiles, turning a bit more to look at you, laying his left arm along the back of the booth.

It comes rushing back, the sparkle to your eyes, and after another tempting bite to your lower lip, you huff another quiet laugh and look down at his chest.

Thor is well aware that he must be giving you what Sam had also referred to as “heart eyes" but he doesn't care. He wants you to see it.

While before he had been patient to watch you from afar, now that he has you before him, smiling and laughing and biting that alluring lip, he must have you.

He'll take it slow. He knows you’re not forthcoming. He'll have to woo you. Carefully.

He makes sure to pepper in some questions as you speak but he keeps himself silent as much as possible. You drift from your book to other topics, movies with similar themes and other books with the opposite. You come back to the one you're reading eventually and Thor is determined to be completely silent now so that he might listen to the way your voice rises and falls with your enthusiasm.

How can your companions not see this brilliance and be mesmerized? Why do they see only their own need to express their thoughts and shut you out?

Fools. Blind fools.

You’ve been explaining the book for almost ten minutes, uninterrupted when you suddenly realize this. Your eyes widen with worry but Thor smiles broadly, pearly whites against the hay and chestnut scruff of his beard.

“That sounds quite dramatic.” He acknowledges. “And sad.”

“It is a little. Dark. Exploring the choices and viewpoints of two cheating spouses? It makes you realize that people sometimes have unique reasons for straying. Not that it's right. I’m not defending it. I don't really have much experience myself but I would never cheat.”

“Have you not dated?” Thor wonders, stupidly hoping you’ll say no. He's feeling greedy.

“Not for a long time. We broke up because he moved, not because we grew apart.” You confess.

“Oh?” Thor's heart gives a small ache. Someone else in this world had had the opportunity to love you.

“This was years ago.” You explain. “And you?”

Thor blinks, realizing what you're asking him. Eyebrows raised high, smile returned as he nervously looks at and fiddles with the corner of your book again.

“Well, I dated Jane, here on Earth. Most humans know that. It wasn’t exactly a secret. And I did have a lot of time to court others back on Asgard and on other various planets throughout the Universe.

“Now that I think about it, I’ve had lots of experience dating.” He admits, turning his eyes back on you only to find you looking down at your twiddling thumbs on the orange of your skirt.

You look worried. Sad?

No. That's not how he wants you to look. Where's the brightness? Did he make you sad? How? What did he say?!

“I should go.” You suddenly say.

“Go?” Thor asks, his voice slightly strangled around the word. But he barely got to spend any time with you!

“Yeah. I’m meeting my friends in the park? They wanted to go see this new store opening downtown and then I have to go into the office for a few meetings.” You sit facing forward and begin to gather your things. “I’m actually late. I should have left half an hour ago.”

Thor looks down at his watch and realizes the two of you have been sitting in the booth talking for nearly three hours.

The morning is now aged and the sky outside bright and sunny despite the constant fall chill in the air.

“Forgive me. I didn’t realize we'd talked for so long.” Thor slides out, rises to his feet and grabs his now empty cup of coffee.

He waits for you to slide out and watches you pull your coat on before shoving your book into your purse and hoisting the bag onto your shoulders, your reusable cup held in your left.

You smile up at him, nervous and still a little sad.

“Um…thanks for keeping me company.” You tell him sweetly as he follows you to the door. “I had fun.”

Thor is unashamed to stare at your beautiful face. He sees the sparkle of excitement return to your eyes and knows that you mean what you say. You enjoyed the time you spent with him and he would gladly do it again.

He must see you again.

He leans over your left to throw his cup away but your right hand shoots out to grip his wrist.

Your hand is small around him. Your skin warm and soft. No, not warm. Hot. There is a burning heat beneath your skin and it steals him of his sanity for a moment.

She's touching me! Thor celebrates.

“Aren't you going to save it?” You ask him and Thor's brow knits in confusion.

“Save it? My cup?” He wonders.

“No…” You shove your own cup under your arm and take hold of the heel of his hand with your left to hold it still then slowly turn the his cup with your right until the cardboard sleeve is facing him.

On the sleeve is a number that Thor realizes must be a phone number. Had you given him your phone number?!

Glee explodes from his eyes at the sight.

“The barista went out of her way to get you her number.” You explain and Thor's fire of elation is quickly snuffed out. “Aren't you going to keep it?”

“Oh.” He says lamely and hates it as your hands fall away from his to grip the strap of your purse. “No.”

He throws the cup.

Reaching over, he shoves the door open wide and flattens himself against it so that you might go first.

You’re still staring at the trashcan where he threw the cup but when you realize he's waiting, you hurry through. Thor is glad when you stop just outside to turn back towards him as he joins you.

“Y/N?” He probes shyly. Nervous out of his mind for what he's about to ask you.

“Yeah?”

“Might I not have your number?” His heart is a hammering of eagle wings in his chest. He nearly faints as you bite your lip again and shake your head.

He's full of desire and disappointment all at once at the sight of your nervous habit and the shake of your head? Are you denying him your number?

You reach into your purse and pull out your book and a felt tip pen. Thor stares with quiet ecstasy as you open the book and on the inside of the cover you write down your number then underline your name just above it.

You shove your pen back into your bag then hold out the book for him.

“If you weren’t you, I wouldn’t be giving you that.” You admit, voice trembling. “I don't give out my number to strangers but you’re not exactly a stranger, are you?”

Thor has never particularly hated being known as Thor, the God of Thunder. Avenger. However, he has never loved it quite like this before either.

“Er…I…um…well, thank you.” He blathers stupidly.

“I really do need to go.” You tell him.

“Of course.” He nods. “Have a—good day?”

He hesitates, feeling as if the sentiment is not good enough. His stutter makes you smile and you turn and walk away.

He watches you for a moment, staring at the shape of your body, the length of your legs, the worn leather of your boots before opening your book to look down at your number.

“Thor?”

His body is humming. Never has his name sounded so sweet on a pair of lips. Never has his heart nearly shattered and exploded all at once. Never has he needed something without knowing he needed it like the way he suddenly needs to hear you utter his name again.

He looks up at you, your star shine eyes deep pools of galaxy, enrapturing him. Holding him hostage in their purity.

“Make sure you call me, okay?” Despite the quiet confidence or that blatant enthusiasm shining at him, your timidity flows through in the shake of your voice. “I really want to finish that book.”

“Of course.” Thor assures you and holds it up for you.

Oh, please, say my name again.

“Bye, Thor.” You give him a little wave and he returns it as his body melts at the sound of your sweet tone wrapped around his name.

He watches you until the blue of your coat is out of sight.

Is it too soon to call you right now? He wants to hear your voice.

Twenty minutes later, Thor storms into the tower, the common room empty save for the stoic redhead sharpening her knives on the coffee table in the living room portion of the large room.

“Natasha, my friend, I need your help.” Thor exclaims, stopping a few feet from her.

“Hey, man.” Bucky says, moving around from behind Thor and towards Nat where he drops off his own set of knives before sitting on the floor across from his crush. “How'd it go? Did you get to talk to your mark?”

“She's not a mark.” Thor grumbles. “And yes. I did.”

Bucky beams up at him, his brown tresses hooked behind his ears. “Woah, good for you. Was she everything you hoped she'd be?”

“She was more but stop distracting me. I came with a mission for Natasha.”

The two of them freeze and turn to stare at Thor.

“What mission?” Nat asks, intrigued.

“I need…a cellular phone.” Thor then holds up the book beside his head proudly, big goofy smile in place. “She gave me her number.”

Forever Tag List - CLOSED!!!!!!! Until I can make more room. @until-theend-oftheline @jessieray98 @dsakita @coldfacedwarf @just-trying-to-survive-marvel @fairislesheets @jewelofwinter @mannls @moonlessnight14 @sovereignoblivious @pandazlazykid @lilulo-12 @moli1497 @shifutheshihtzu @the-real-mary-jane @pastelxvirgo @just4muggles @vulpecula-minor @wildefire @mdgrdians @tiffanynguyen03 @shield-agent78 @i-cant-shine-without-darkness @the-wayward-robot @babytrollgirl @alagalaska @sincerelytlh @theonelittleone @sea040561 @xrosegoldwolfx @peppermintvanillaa @awkwardfangirl2014 @crist1216 @xxloki81xx @idk-random-fan-girl @romimiux @badassbaker @this-side-of-midnight5 @booklover2929 @natura1phenomenon @xlittlestarling @whosmarisaaarw @hiddles-rose @supernaturaldean67 @literallymoonshine @sebbystanlover-vk @pineapplebooboo @quokkatrash @marvelpott @spaghettirogers @rainbowkisses31 @basementcafe @death-unbecomes-you @kind-sober-fullydressed

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harleyquilt · 6 years ago

Text

Through The Years

Summary: A trip through the many years of the Kaneki family at snapshots of their lives whilst Touken watch their family mature.

Words: 4144

Notes: So this is for my really wonderful and perfect friend @beneybunny. I actually wrote this as thanks to a favour, but since I’m a lazy and terrible friend, this is now her late birthday present. The fic itself is just really fluffy and silly and I hope you enjoy it!

It was a quiet morning, as tranquil and lazy as any morning could be really. Kaneki opened his eyes slowly to find himself alone in his bed and sitting up, rubbing his eyes, he heard Touka’s soft whisperings from Ichika’s room. He smiled to himself and leaned back, eyes glancing to his opened window where he could see the wide and vast countryside field nearby. The almost picturesque scenery was nothing compared to the city, which was still in shambles from the attack almost a year ago. He visited there often, the image of the ruins and crumbled buildings and roads were engraved into his mind as a reminder of his actions and despite the pain it brought to remind him of the damage he afflicted, it also reminded him of what he had now; a chance to start again and redeem himself with a beautiful family to support him whenever. Whether he deserved it or not he wasn’t sure, he just knew he couldn’t let this opportunity pass because he was busy wallowing in self-pity.

“Oh, you’re awake, sleepyhead.” Touka smiled and she leaned against the doorframe to their room, cradling their small baby girl in her arms. “I was just feeding our little sleepyhead here, I’ll make you some coffee in a minute.”

“Don’t trouble yourself.” He insisted as he got up, heading over to her side where he gave her a quick peck on her cheek and leaned down to do the same to Ichika. He caressed Touka’s cheek and she smiled warmly, their eyes on each others. He then looked down, feeling Ichika tug at his shirt and carefully taking her from Touka’s arms, he lifted her up, watching her give him a wide toothless smile.

“What a beautiful smile our princess has!” Kaneki beamed and lowering her, she pinched his cheeks, giggling. “It’s as beautiful as the queens’.”

Touka slapped his shoulder lightly, heading off to make his coffee as he continued to play with Ichika. She was so perfect, a mix of both him and Touka in her features: she had Touka’s eyes and his grey colour, Touka’s face with those chubby cheeks and his...hair? Actually, the hair left him baffled more than anything. He knew Haise was his own person in a sense, but this simply didn’t make sense. Touka seemed completely fine, if anything more amused, at the ‘sesame pudding’ hair she ended up having, yet Kaneki couldn’t help but consider this as Haise’s last act of revenge for disposing him back into the tormenting depths of his own mind. Nonetheless, he loved her regardless of her looks - she’d be perfect no matter the appearance.

At the minute, she was only a few months old, and Kaneki was always chuffed at how tiny she turned out to be. He never held a baby before - never had the opportunity to - and when he held Ichika for the first time...He almost squealed at the sight of her. Everything about her was so tiny, especially her hands that’d barely wrap around his pinkie finger. She was so warm too and he felt completely at peace when he simply sat and held her in his arms, talking to her softly about how much he loved her and of all the things he’d do for her once she grew up some more. She watched him with wide eyes as he headed over to Touka, showering his child with kisses as he smelled the sweet fragrance of the coffee Touka made for him.

“She’s such a happy baby.” Touka commented, taking a sip of her own coffee and she leaned against the counter. “She especially loves that apple mush Yoriko told me to feed her. She threw it all over me yesterday.” She shuddered at the memory. “I can still smell that disgusting scent of it even now.”

“Hey, you eat apples too.” Kaneki chuckled as he set down Ichika onto her cushioned seat nearby, giving her a toy to chew on. He gathered Touka into his arms and embraced her tightly, pressing his lip to the top of her head. “If you want I can give you more of that cake again. Kimi did say we had to adapt our palates if we want to change our diets. I’ll do it with you if you want.”

“Please, it’s enough just smelling the stuff as it if. Give me a break.” They stayed still for a brief moment, Touka letting out a low sigh as she listened to his slow heartbeat. After a quiet moment like this, she looked up to watch the scar that went down from his eyes, like black tears had stained his cheeks. “Hm, they’re not fading it seems. Or at least not completely.” His smile dropped then and her fingers lightly traced the marks, her eyes wide and curious. “Not that I’m complaining, they look pretty cool. They don’t hurt, do they?”

He shook his head and turned to kiss each finger tip. He knew she’d have no issues with his appearance. As she said, she’d love him even if his hands were covered in scales or if he had no arms at all. Still, he wanted to be proud to stand by someone as elegant and beautiful as her, even if his insecurities were simply silly concerns. Ah, but no matter; her words always gave him the comfort he needed and he took a deep breath, his smile returning as he allowed himself to take in those words.

“I wonder how I'll explain it to Ichika.” They both looked back at their daughter, who was banging her toy against her seat with some annoyance. “Don't worry so much about it.” Touka reassured, pulling away and patting his head. “She'll think they're cool too.”

“You really think so?” Kaneki chuckled, grabbing his drink.

“I know so.”

. . .

Ichika stuck her tongue out as she concentrated on her reflection. Her mother's makeup bag was tipped over and all the different brushes and ‘clippy boxes’ (as she liked to call them) were scattered across the dresser table. She held the black pencil in her hand, turning it this way and that. She really didn't understand how this wasn't used for colouring, but considering how she saw her mama draw with it under her eyes, it must be to draw pictures on skin instead of paper. With a confirmed nod and smile, she silently christened this pencil as the ‘body drawer thingy.’

Touka sat besides Kaneki at the dining table as they looked through different holiday locations through the travel magazine they held between them. They were in the midst of arguing whether to go with Kaneki's suggestion and go to Rome for a romantic getaway or to go with Touka's choice of Disney World.

“Look, maybe we can go to both.” Touka suggested with some mild frustration. “We're getting Tsukiyama to pay anyway.”

“Touka-chan, we can't make him pay for us for the sixth time.” Touka raised a brow in confusion as to why they couldn't. He sighed and was and was about to protest once again before they heard a loud tumble in their room. “Ichika! What are you doing?”

She came running in quickly, a slight skip in her step and a beaming smile. There were dark streaks of black pencil across her cheek under her ghoul eye, mimicking Kaneki's scars. She also drew a nice flower on her other cheek and head with lipstick, her artist skills apparent.

“I'm just like papa! I'm just like papa!” She jumped onto his lap, knocking the air out of him and both he and Touka looked at one another - they didn't know whether to feel heartwarmed or angry at their child. Touka was now growing more concerned at the noise she heard in her room just before.

“Don't I look just like him?” Ichika asked her mum with bright eyes, shaking her dad by the shoulders. “Don't I look cool?”

Kaneki felt his eyes water with tears and he lifted her up, a sappy smile on his quivering lips. She giggled as he hugged her tightly, all anger vanished with his pride and relief. Cool! She called him cool! She was truly the most perfect daughter.

“Don't coddle her! Do you even realise-”

“You, my beautiful princess, are getting cookies today.” Kaneki declared, Ichika and him cheering loudly whilst he stood up. Touka only stared in disgust. “And the queen gets cookies too!”

“We all get cookies!”

Kaneki, despite the joy he had felt in that moment, had not considered the lecture he would receive that night as his wife punished him by making him clean up all the mess in their room. And no, she didn't forgive him even after the cookies.

. . .

“He's so small.” Ichika cocked her head to one side as she stared perplexed at her baby brother her mother held in her arms. His face scrunched up every now and again, his tiny pouty lips opening and closing with quiet whimpers. “Is he even alive?”

“Of course he is, silly.” Kaneki sat besides Touka, admiring their newly born child with his daughter. He couldn't seem to stop hugging his wife, kissing her all over with his head leaned against hers.

Ichika, with her eyes narrowing, leaned forward to examine her brother's face. He wasn't quite exactly how she imagined him to be. After all, she did write that letter to the baby factory with specific instructions on how to design him. However, when she felt her brother squeeze her finger, which seemed so much larger compared to his whole hand, her lips parted and she smiled a gappy smile. Kissing his head, she commented how he would make an ‘adeequit’ brother for her, Touka and Kaneki offering her warm smiles.

“What's his name?” Ichika asked, knowing how her parents were still indecisive, even as they were going out the door to the hospital, otherwise known as the baby factory.

Touka smiled smugly at her husband, who nudged her playfully, knowing she was all too proud at being the one to pick the name.

“Well, it's-

. . .

Asuka!” Ichika stormed down the hallway to his room, slamming her fist against her brother's door. “Get the hell out of there, you rat! I know you're the one who broke my ant farm. Open up!”

“I didn't mean to, they just scared me and I panicked!” His usually small and timid voice yelled back, his back against the door. He knew she could, and probably would, easily break it down though. “It's not my fault you're a weirdo!”

“You shouldn't have even went into my room.” She hissed, slamming his door again. “You won't know fear until I get my hands on-”

Touka cleared her throat behind Ichika, who froze with her body now tensed up. Slowly, the girl turned around with an apologetic smile and her hands raised in hopes that her surrender would elicit mercy. Her mother had this cold stare that chilled Ichika to the bone and her arms remained crossed, an unnerved frown on her face. Asuka started to chuckle when he heard her silence, but continued to keep his door locked.

Touka took a deep breath, her eyes narrowing. “Now.” Ichika almost flinched, her lips pressed together. “What's happening here?”

“W-Well, you see, mama-”

“She threatened to kill me. Her own flesh and blood!” Asuka yelled from behind his door, Ichika’s head turning back with an appalled scowl at her snitch of a brother. “He broke my ant farm!” Ichika quickly added, pointing accusingly at his door.

And just like that, they broke out into another argument. Touka sighed as she rubbed her temples, Kaneki soon joining her. He stared for a moment, feeling a sense of deja vu from seeing this sceme from only a few hours ago.

“Alright!” Touka yelled, making them all jump. “Asuka, you better get your ass out here and apologise to your sister and Ichika!” Ichika flinched, silently pleading for her father's aid. But he was already whistling and walking off, minding his own business. “You're fifteen now, there's no need to act like this. You can always get another ant farm after you clean up the one that broke. And you!” She pointed straight at Kaneki, who was so close to retreating to their room. He stared, with wide, terrified eyes at her aggressive tone. “I'm not done with you either!”

She stormed over to his side and practically dragged him into their room, shutting the door behind her - though not before giving one last glare at her daughter. With Ichika sighing and moving back to her room, Touka she dumped herself onto their bed. Kaneki sat besides her, pulling her deadweight body onto her lap.

“I'm guessing you want me to continue the massage now.” Kaneki chuckled, kissing her neck lightly as his hands moved up to her shoulders. She made a noise of confirmation and nodded slowly, leaning into his touch.

She glanced over to the picture that stood on their bedside table; it was a family photo, with a slightly younger Ichika and Asuka stood besides her and Kaneki, along with Yomo, Ayato and Hinami, with her and Ayato’s baby in her arms. It's been a year or two since that picture was taken and it always brought warm memories whenever Touka set her eyes on it. Their family has grown so much after the tension from the Dragon War cooled down. Ichika stood proudly, clinging to her dad's arm. Her hair was tied up in a cute messy bun, her clothes a lot like Touka's when she was younger - baggy and boyish, though she did like her bright colours. Asuka was hiding partially behind Touka's leg, his wavy, thick dark hair partially hiding his big blue eyes, his face still a little chubby and body slim and petite. He didn't have the brash boldness his sister had; he was much more tame like his father, though he was surprisingly hot headed like...well, it doesn't matter who he got that from.

“Hm, they really have grown.” Kaneki said quietly when he caught her staring at the picture. He pulled her against him, squeezing her tightly and rested his head on her shoulder. “In more ways than I'm comfortable with.” He chuckled afterwards.

“It's weird.” Touka added, turning her head to face Kaneki. “Every now and again, it just strikes me that all of this is actually happening. It's...overwhelming.”

He smiled, understanding her completely. It still felt like a dream sometimes and even if it was, they never wanted to let it go. Even with the squabbles and petty fights, even with the glum and moody days, all of it just seemed too perfect to be true. Kaneki pushed Touka's hair to one shoulder, trailing kisses from her bite mark to her ear, where he nuzzled her and pulled her down onto the bed. She giggled as he started to her kiss her softly, whispering her name as he did so, until another loud yell interrupted their moment.

“THERESANTSINMYBED-” Asuka shrieked, along with Ichika laughing loudly. “ICHIKA, YOU DID THIS, DIDN'T YOU-”

“Kaneki, hold this.” She tossed him the cardigan she was wearing. “I don't want my kagune to ruin it.”

“Touka-chan, no!”

. . .

There were butterflies in her stomach and she clutched the hem of her shirt, staring nervously at her reflection. Ichika was dressed in her best casual outfit, with her white shirt that hung off her shoulders and light blue jeans, her hair in a side bun with a white flower clip on one side. She kept the makeup simple, even though that was the only way she knew how to do it, and looked over to the clock to check the time. That was when she heard the doorbell.

She rushed out of the room in an attempt to stop anyone opening the door, but she knew it was too late when she saw her mum and dad already there, greeting their guest warmly. This was terrible! She heard the chipper voice of her date nervously respond to Ichika’s parents, her dad turning to wave over his nervous daughter to the door. With little success, she tried to put up her best smile and forced herself to her dad's side.

And there she was. Ichika’s date. She was beautiful, like she always was, with her long black hair and gentle face. She had these big, dark brown eyes that complimented her soft features and she stood nervously, dressed in a cute, light blue sundress and sandals.

“What a beautiful girl you are!” Touka complimented warmly, inviting the guest inside. “We've heard so much about you, Emi.”

She blushed and Ichika felt her own cheeks heat up, her dad nudging her with his own smile. He squeezed her hand, trying to calm her nerves he knew she had. Touka continued with her gushing compliments, which only embarrassed the two of them further, until Kaneki decided now was the time to save her.

“Come now, Touka-chan.” He took his wife's hand, tugging her to his side. “You've had your fun, let them go and enjoy their date.” She mumbled that he was a killjoy with a smirk, but nodded with a sigh. Ichika kept her focus on Emi though.

“Hey, you should be careful.” Ichika’s teenaged brother warned as he passed by, playing a game in his hands. His hair was still as bad as it was in the morning, with it all ruffled and sticking out in odd places and he looked up with his dorky round glasses slipping down his nose. “The last boy she dated ran away crying when she nearly bit his tongue off-”

Ichika let out an odd noise that was half a shriek and half gibberish. He chuckled and with and disapproving look from his parents, he ran off to the next room, Touka mentioning how this was somehow Kaneki's fault.

“Ichika-chan, it's fine!” Emi grabbed her hand, making her freeze with her becoming all flustered. “Everyone knows that story.”

“H-How...is that supposed to make it any be-”

“Come on, you dunce, don't keep her waiting.” Touka started nudging her forward, prompting her to take the lead. “Don't be like your dad.”

“Hey, that's not fair.” Kaneki whined, but Ichika sighed and did as her mother told, finally smiling and bidding her goodbyes. Once the door shut, Kaneki took her hand into his and gave her a quick kiss.

“She reminds me of our first date.” He said, his voice low and soft. “Even though we were already married then.”

“Hm, maybe she'll learn from you then.” Touka teased and when he gave her that usual pout she was very familiar with. She pulled him in for another kiss. “But if she doesn't,” she continued, pulling away only slightly, “then everything would still turn out perfect.”

Asuka walked in and made a gagging sound at his parent's sap, hating, though always secretly admiring, how romantic they were to one another. They both amusingly turned to him with their own knowing smirks, Kaneki being the first to tease him.

“I don't know why you're reacting like that when we had to watch you get all cute with that Hitomu girl.” He then made his own high pitched protesting sound, his voice cracking, before he stormed off to his room, his face bright red.

. . .

Asuka checked his watch, half running to his parent's home in realisation of how late he was getting. With him now in Kamii, it was hard to keep track of time sometimes, but he did promise to meet with the family during his break. Besides, he missed his dad's apple pie he always baked for him and Ichika. Well, he'd be lying if he said that was the only reason - he loved his family after all.

Jogging down the street, he finally saw his old home, which was still the same as ever in his eyes. With a warm smile, he went up the small steps and rang the doorbell a few times. He was more than overjoyed to see his mum behind the door and immediately gave her a tight hug.

She was still the gorgeous woman she always was, along with the stray grey hair and crease beneath her eyes. Her hair was shorter again, but he always thought that suited her better. She welcomed him inside, where his dad stood with his pink frilly apron.

“You're too tall!” He exclaimed as he gave him a hug, Asuka almost suffocating. Pulling back, he saw his dad also kept his young looks, even with the few wrinkles around the eyes. “You were shorter than me when you left.”

“Damn, what have you been taking, Asuka-chan? Well, at least you cut off that fugly mullet you had before.” Ichika teased and Asuka smirked, staring at his sister. She has changed herself, though not entirely; her hair was longer, her black roots almost capping her head, and she was dressed quite professionally. She must've just returned from work. “Aren't you going to give me a hug too, brat?”

They share a brief hug and they all sit in the living room, catching up after the few months they last saw each other and sharing the news they’ve heard around Tokyo. It seemed the older members of the TLC were now making their retirements and picking their replacements from the new generation and Kaneki had seemingly no more duties to attend to with Tokyo now fully repaired. Hide had made his last rotation around the continents with his plans of peace and it held some effect with more countries opening their doors to ghouls, though some still saw them as a threat that needed to be eradicated.

They then moved on to their personal lives. Touka and Kaneki were thinking of their retirement themselves, with Kaneki tying loose ends and Touka thinking of handing the cafe to her neice and they hoped to move to a more peaceful and remote area afterwards before travelling to the different countries they had wanted to see. They also planned on spending more time with their friends whilst also taking care of Renji. Ichika seemed to be doing well in the labs, Kimi continuing to teach her as always and Nishiki kept her company every now and again with his son. Asuka always admired his sister for her intellect - he could never pass biology - and she was always so passionate about her being a half ghoul like him and their dad. Asuka never had much an opinion for such a thing and so he instead wanted to refine his writing skills, since his dad wrote such an inspiring book about his messy life. He hoped he could perhaps encourage peace between species through words, like Kaneki and Hide, since he couldn't do so with science.

“What happened to that Emi girl, Ichika-chan?” Kaneki asked with a bright smile, though Ichika could only offer a wry one.

“It didn't work out.” She admitted, all of them offering their own apologies. “It's fine though! It wasn't anything dramatic - it just sorta drifted apart. Besides, I have my work to distract me.” She laughed it off, but Asuka took her hand and squeezed it tightly, both him and their parents offering sympathetic looks.

“Well, it's a good thing I made us apple pie!” Kaneki got up, clapping his hands together. Ichika jumped up excitedly, asking if she could have a big piece like she always did and Asuka and Touka followed behind them to the dining room.

“I always love these moments.” Touka confessed, linking her arm through Asuka’s. He glanced over at her curiously, her gaze fondly watching her lovey dovey husband and enthusiastic daughter. “Isn't it amazing how everything turned out so perfectly.”

He laughed lightly at her comment, nodding. “Well, my hair is still fucked up. It's so thick and knotty.”

“You can blame your dad for that. Or...well...a part of him.”

“W-Wha-”

“It doesn't matter.” She reassured and reached up to kiss his cheek, pinching it. “You're still a handsome boy. Invite Hitomu next time too, you're always polite when she's here.”

As he let out loud protests, they sat around the table, all of them taking a slice of the delicious looking pie. Touka reached beneath the table and held Kaneki's hand. He glanced over at her, her cheeks bright and her eyes crinkled. Of course, that left him smiling all goofy too and neither had to utter a word for them to know the gratitude they both felt. With their children bickering with their own inside banter whilst they both joked with them, and with Kaneki still by her side just as he was twenty years ago, nothing could've felt better than this moment.

Nothing could've felt better with any of their moments.

#touken #kanetou #ken kaneki #touka kirishima #ichika kaneki #my writing #fanfic #fluff #kaneki family

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wolfie-dragon-rider · 6 years ago

Note

Director's cut for "Black as Night" chapter 5: Nightmares!

Alright then! It took me a while to get to this, but I’m doing it now! Thanks for asking! The chapter can be found HERE

Chapter 5, Nightmares, was the first true Hiccstrid chapter of the story. It established their (extremely awkward and painful) relationship after the incident, and makes both of them realize what Hiccup’s blindness will mean, both for Hiccup who can’t do a lot of things anymore, and for Astrid who will have to assist him from now on.

It starts with Hiccup waking up in the middle of the night, having to go to the toilet. Hiccup had woken up briefly from the sedative-induced coma he had been in in the previous chapter, but back then his situation hadn’t sunken in yet. He was still too confused, too sleepy, and probably too high from the painkillers to be able to think about what happened.

He wakes up with a (slightly) clearer head here, and while he now knows he’s blind (and can obviously see it for himself), he hasn’t truly realized the implications. He’s gonna have to learn the hard way as he navigates his way to the outhouse.

I tried to show Hiccup’s analytical mind here early on. It runs through possible scenarios quickly, considering where he could be.

“He sat up, determined he could do this, and prepared to get up from the bed, when he realized he had no idea where he was. Was he in his own house? Gobber’s house? Gothi’s house? The Great Hall? He moved his hand over the wooden supports of the bed, and sighed in relief when he felt the familiar notches he had carved in there years ago. He was in his own bed, so he must be in his own house.”

Still, although he determines easily he must be in his own room, he can’t navigate it easily. He stumbles over a chair immediately, and nearly falls off the open loft (I now realize I changed the way his room is situated somewhere along the way, as it became a more private closed room in Blind Spots).

Still, he makes his way outside, determined to not let his disability stop him, an attitude that receives knocks throughout the story, but that he never truly abandones.

We now get a POV change to Astrid, who is having a nightmare. This nightmare scene was one of the first scenes I planned, and I still have a clear picture of it in my head. I’m very proud of it, and personally think it’s well-done despite how cheesy nightmare scenes can be.

One thing that might not be obvious for a casual reader, but what I was very careful about, was that, from the moment Astrid hurt Hiccup to when she finds him later this chapter, Astrid’s fears and worries have been entirely about herself. We see it very clearly in this nightmare.

She is afraid that her father will be angry with her, saying she’s not a true warrior. She is scared her mother will be disappointed in her, not for hurting someone, but for breaking a promise. She is scared her ‘friends’ (and I use the term very loosely, I don’t think Astrid has a closer bond than neighbors with them in this AU) will think her pathetic and weak. Will think that she is worse than Hiccup. She is more ashamed of throwing up at the sight of Hiccup’s wounds than she is about actually inflicting those wounds.

She is afraid of Stoick’s reaction and how it will impact her. Will she be exiled? Executed? Tortured? Hiccup hurting her back in the final part of the nightmare is the solidification of this fear, that she will be hurt the way she hurt him.

Nothing in this nightmare is about what she actually did to Hiccup and how it will impact him. It’s the same in chapter 4. She hasn’t had the chance to process what she has done, but at this point she feels fear, not guilt. Shame because she broke her promise, not because she crippled someone for life. Astrid is, at this point, a cold person, hardened by her father’s rigorous training and her sense of duty.

Still, she starts to feel disgust at Hiccup’s face, the face she created. Hiccup wasn’t the only one traumatized by the events of that day. Astrid will never forget that face as long as she lives.

But she doesn’t want to think about that. Astrid is feeling more emotions about this than she’s had in years. I think Astrid at this point (in the movies as well) is someone who expresses any emotions she has through anger and violence. She has never learned to express them any other way. She doesn’t know how to identify what she’s feeling, if it’s guilt or shame or anger or fear. This incident opened the floodgates and gave her feelings that she cannot express through anger, because anger was what caused this incident to begin with. In a way, her snapping and hurting someone through her anger has now become a sort of trigger to her (we see this in chapter 12 when she punches Hiccup in the face and is immediately disgusted and repulsed with herself).

So she does the only thing she can think of to deal with all this, which is running away, exhausting herself, anything to stop having to think about what happened.

POV change back to Hiccup, who is trying to find the outhouse. Here he is having a similar issue as Astrid, trying not to think too closely about what happened. Unlike her, he’s trying to avoid the emotions by thinking rationally about the problem at hand. Still, he gets lots in doubt and indecision, foreshadowing his later anxiety.

The doubt overwhelmed his brain, and he started to feel dizzy. He desperately tried to visualize the hill, but without his eyes he found it was impossible. It felt like there was no hill, like he was standing in some black room, or floating in a sea of darkness. From his perspective he might as well be standing on a lone sea stack or in the heart of Rome. It would look exactly the same.

This is where I introduce the overarching metaphor of The Black Room. I nearly called the entire story The Black Room, actually, before deciding Black as Night was a better title. The black room was an extremely useful narrative tool for me, because it’s such a versatile visualization of what Hiccup is feeling. It can be a claustrophobic cell or an infinitely large empty desert. It can be a sea he’s drowning in or a maze he wants to navigate. I use it in a lot of ways, before finally giving it closure as Hiccup accepts Astrid with him in his black room in the final chapter.

Now the conga line of hurting Hiccup begins. He falls painfully, rolls down the hill, and ends up in a mud pool.

“The gods really do hate me,” Hiccup thought as he crawled out of the pool, his vest covered in mud. Desperately, he started crawling in a random direction, praying to any god he could think of to help him.

The gods seemed to think this was a very funny game, though. Hiccup crawled through what felt like a rarely used street, when he was startled by a raven loudly calling right next to him. He felt his pants become hot and wet as he jumped away from the noise.

Hiccup had never felt as pathetic as he did in that moment, realizing that he had soiled himself.

He dropped down on the ground, thinking about his predicament. He had no idea where he was. He was covered in mud and piss. He was fairly certain he hurt his head, and he could feel scrapes on his arms. It was the middle of the night, so nobody was around to help him.

This is Hiccup’s lowest point. At no point in the story, except perhaps when Stoick takes Toothless away, is Hiccup in such a lonely and pathetic position. This is the start of his journey, as he slowly, with the help of Toothless and Astrid, regains his dignity and capability.

This is also where it truly sinks in what blindness will mean to him, what he won’t be able to do, how the village will react. Unlike Astrid, who turns her emotions into outward anger, Hiccup turns his emotions into inward self-hate. He thinks he’s pathetic, that he’s weak, that no one could ever care about a disgusting worm like him. Astrid desperately tries to deny that she’s a bad person, Hiccup almost embraces it.

Like Astrid, who tries to rationalize what she did was okay because he was annoying, he tries to rationalize what happened to him by blaming himself. It’s a coping method to explain the fact that Astrid, a person he so admires, did something so horrific to him.

Hiccup simultaneously begs for reassurance, someone who will help him and tell him things will be okay, someone who won’t call him weak, but is also sure that such a person cannot exist. The only person he can think of is his mother, but she is dead as far as he knows. So he cries, unable to express his emotions any other way.

POV switch back to Astrid, who finds Hiccup on her desparate run. She initially tries to act like a warrior in response to the sound. It’s a way for her to reassure herself that she is still a good warrior like she wants to be. It’s a big part of her self-image, and her hurting Hiccup shattered it. She doesn’t know what she is anymore.

She approaches Hiccup, thinking him utterly pathetic. However, she doesn’t judge him yet. When she reads the words he wrote in the dirt, she is actually surprised. She doesn’t think him useless, despite her rationalizations that he’s weak and deserved her lashing out at him. She’s also surprised because Hiccup always seemed cheerful and unaffected by the bullying, not at all depressed.

Astrid suddenly remembered her conversation with Gobber the evening before. “I’d advice you to help Hiccup adjust to his new life,” he had said.“Show that you are a great warrior, but also a great Viking,” She hadn’t understood that remark at the time. Wasn’t a good warrior automatically a good Viking? But maybe being a Viking was about more than fighting dragons. Maybe that’s what her mother had been trying to tell her when she told her to play with the others.

She felt sorry now that she had only listened to her father’s advice, while ignoring her mother. She wished her parents were here now, so they could tell her how to deal with the helpless boy in front of her. Yesterday she would probably have left him there. She would have been disgusted by his weakness, thinking he should just grow up and stop being so weak.

Today, she wasn’t so sure.

This is Astrid re-evaluating her values for the first time. Until know, and for a while longer still, she practically worships her father. “Her father said it was so, and she wouldn’t contradict her father.” is a line from chapter 1. “…her father always said” is a constant line in her thoughts. Warriors don’t cry. Warriors are strong. That’s what her father says, so it must be true.

She had never imagined her father could be wrong, but here she feels something she’s not supposed to feel. She feels pity. She sees Hiccup here, utterly pathetic and knowing it’s not his fault. She cannot deny any longer that it’s her actions that put him in this position. She is to blame, not him. She knows her father would tell her that Hiccup is weak, that she should look after herself, that he’s too pathetic to look after.

And she just can’t agree with this. She feels too much guilt and pain and empathy and anguish within her to abandon Hiccup here. She rationalizes that it’s part of her deal with Gobber, and for a large part it still is, but even now she’s already starting to help Hiccup because it’s the right thing to do, not because she’s ordered to.

She starts talking to Hiccup, but he’s horrified someone saw him like this, and tries to run. It’s only when he’s cornered himself that he even starts to realize it’s Astrid, and even then he’s suspicious. She is the very last person he wants to see him like this. Despite what happened, he still has a crush on her. Still, he’s confused that she doesn’t act like he expected, with mockery and disgust. He lashes out, trying to get her to ‘break her act’, so to speak, and just get the bullying over with.

She sighed and sat down next to him. Yesterday she would have hit him by now, angry that he would doubt her sincerity, but she knew that this wasn’t a time for punches. “Come on, Hiccup, we both know you need help right now. Will you at least tell me what happened?” she asked him.

He still seemed unsure, and he turned his face away from her.

“I’m not going to laugh, okay? I promise.” she tried, desperate to pierce this wall he was building around himself.

“Okay, fine. I woke up and I needed to go to the outhouse, but I couldn’t find it. I got lost, and then I fell into a mud pool, and then I wet myself because I got scared of a stupid raven. Happy now? Happy to see how useless I am?” he suddenly said with an angry tone, but she could hear his voice shaking near the end, filled with shame and sorrow.

She remained silent for a few seconds, then she stood up and grabbed his hand. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” she told him.

He snapped his face towards her as his jaw fell. He was frozen for a few seconds, then he managed to produce a shocked “Why?”

Astrid awkwardly tries to build a connection without violence, while Hiccup projects his self-loathing onto her. The idea that she wants to help him is so foreign to his mind he can barely process it. As far as he knows, this girl has ignored him her whole life, and their only interactions have been filled with annoyance and disgust from her end. She has never offered to help him, and now, when he’s so pathetic, she does. He can’t understand it. In his shock he allows Astrid to lead him away.

Finally she secretly erases the self-loathing words Hiccup wrote, wishing he wouldn’t think about himself like that. That’s the sign that despite all her “It’s just a job” rationalization she’s doing, she genuinely feels bad for Hiccup, and realizes that that is not a healthy mindset for him to have. She feels… not empathy yet, but sympathy for him. Something a strong warrior like her isn’t supposed to feel.

The final POV change, back to Hiccup, as Astrid leads him to the hot springs for a bath. This is the big test for Hiccup in this chapter. Astrid has passed hers by reaching out to help Hiccup. Now he has to accept it. Trust is a vital part of their relationship in this story, and this is where it starts.

Hiccup tries to cope once again with logical analysis, running through possible scenarios. He expects it to be a prank, that the other teens will ambush him.

“Uhm. You’re going to need clean clothes. How about you take a bath and leave your dirty clothes here on the bank, and meanwhile I get some new clothes from your house? Are your clothes in your room?” she asked with that cheerful voice. It confused Hiccup. She was talking like this was some normal, everyday thing, like she was asking him to pass her the salt during dinner, or like they were discussing the weather.

But Astrid telling him to take his clothes off while she searched his room was definitely not an everyday occurrence.

Hiccup’s further confused by Astrid’s outward calmth here. He can’t tell what she’s thinking (honestly, neither can Astrid at this point). His still lingering crush, combined with teenage boy hormones, complicate things further, as the situation is awfully intimate.

When he had cleaned himself up as best he could, he finally allowed himself to relax. For the first time that night he felt completely at ease. He still felt confused about Astrid’s behavior, and he was still shocked by his sudden blindness. But here, floating in the warm water, his terrifying black room had become a safe sanctuary, like there was nothing in the world but him and the pool.

“Hiccup? May I come closer?” Astrid’s voice suddenly asked, piercing the black walls around him.

This is another example of how the black room mirrors Hiccup’s emotional state, and how his blindness affects his perception of the world around him.

Hiccup suddenly felt unsure. What if this was some big prank? What if Snotlout and the twins would ambush him as he climbed out of the pool? What if Astrid was really looking at him right now, preparing to laugh at his scrawny body?

But then he realized he couldn’t know that. He had no idea what was happening beyond the range of his fingers. He could only trust that Astrid was telling the truth.

Did he trust Astrid? That seemed to be the main question. Did he really have a choice? He couldn’t stay here forever, and she had seemed genuine so far, even if he couldn’t understand her motives. He decided to take her word for it, and crawled out of the pool.

He found the towel exactly where she said it would be, and dried himself as quickly as he could. He then took another step and found clothes. He used his hands to identify the different clothes, and put them on. But the time he put his boots on he finally felt human again.

Here is Hiccup passing his test. He grabs Astrid’s outstretched hand. He decides to trust her. It’s not permanent, and he doesn’t have much other choice her, but she doesn’t betray his trust here. Everything is exactly as she promised.

Astrid lead him through the front door of his house and up the stairs without saying anything. She let go of his arm to move something, probably the chair he had fallen over earlier. They stood there awkwardly, neither knowing what to say. Hiccup was still lost in his thoughts, his mind unable to stop thinking of more things he’d never be able to see. He could feel the depression returning, and he hoped Astrid would leave before he’d start crying again.

Suddenly pain tore through his arm, and it took a moment before he realized Astrid had punched him.

“That’s for going out alone,” she said. He could feel his face falling as he realized she was still angry with him.

But then he suddenly felt her arms wrapping him into a tight hug. He froze, unsure of what to do, his arms hanging in the air behind Astrid’s back. Before he could react, she released him, awkwardly moving backward.

“That’s for… everything else,” she said. Hiccup suddenly felt overcome with a giddy happiness, and a snort left his mouth.

“You better not tell anyone about that! No one can know I hugged you!” she said, like it was a dirty word. She sighed, and her tone became softer.

“You know what? I’ll make a deal with you. You don’t tell anyone about what I just did, and I won’t tell anyone about what happened to you tonight. Deal?” she asked.

He couldn’t stop a smile coming to his face as he said “Deal,” He now had some sort of secret with Astrid! She suddenly grasped his hand hanging by his side, and shook it.

“Okay then. You should go to sleep now. I’m coming back in the morning, to bring you to Gothi,” She told him, sounding unsure of herself. “I’m going now. Uhm, bye Hiccup,” she said, and a second later he could hear her run down the stairs.

Astrid feels a lot of emotions after the events of the evening, and she doesn’t know how to express them as anything but anger. That’s why she punches him. But (unknown to Hiccup) she immediately feels guilty about it. She feels sad and alone herself, in need of reassurance. So she hugs him, surprising even herself.

This is the start of their relationship. Them establishing their rules and boundaries, in a way. Here it’s already established that they’re going to have something secret, something private, something special. Of course, it’s still awkward and formal and done through deals and handshakes, but this is the first time we have Astrid protecting Hiccup as well, promising to not tell anyone about what happened to him. Not that she was going to tell anyway, but she now understands and cares that the village knowing would hurt him. She does this selflessly, though she dresses it up in selfish motives.

Maybe she really meant it when she said that she wanted to help him. But why? Out of guilt? Some sense of honor? For a moment Hiccup allowed himself to consider the case that she helped him because she liked him, but that was ridiculous.

Whatever it was, she had helped him, and she had treated him nicer than anyone had in years, except for Gobber.

“Maybe there is someone who cares about me after all,” he thought as he fell asleep, a smile still on his face.

And in his dreams he saw Astrid’s face again, smiling at him as she hugged him close.

Hiccup goes to bed vaguely hoping for a relationship, more, even if Astrid hasn’t even considered the very possibility of it, but this is a staple of their relationship in this story. Hiccup has to deal with the contradiction between the Valkyrie he worshipped and admired from afar, and the flawed and awkward girl who hurt him, and who also helps him. While Astrid has to accept that she likes Hiccup the Useless, and that her feelings are more important than the opinion of the village. And that’s what the rest of the story is about.

This became waaaaay longer than I expected or planned, but I had fun writing it! I hope it didn’t become boring! If you want to know about other chapters or stories, feel free to ask!

#asks #director's cut #black as night #commentary #coneygoil

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afriend410 · 7 years ago

Text

Tokophobia- HTTYD Fanfiction

Tokophobia

Summary: After a year of the loss of their last child, not everyone is ready, to try again. A sequel to Stoick the Second.

The crashing of the waves and the sea breeze was supposed to help with the anguish he felt. One year. It had only been a single year since he sent his four-pound son, who he had to tightly wrap in a white sheet, out to see in a traditional Viking funeral. The months of planning and happiness between his wife and him was gone within a few hours. He wouldn’t even go near the stairs that lead to the room. On occasion he did see her walk down them, tears always on the verge of falling. But, when she caught sight of him she would brush them away and smile. That was her though, always trying to be strong.

A deep sigh had left his lips while thinking of her. She was part of the reason he was out here. He couldn’t believe what she had told him. Today of all days.

The meal was in silence as usual, except for the clashing of their utensils and chewing of the food. He was thankful for it, however. He honestly didn’t know what to say to her and even if he did he didn’t think it would end well for either of them. He looked up at his breakfast and he smiled. She was so composed right now, but he could tell from the concentrated look on her face there were so many things running through her mind. He was about to tell her how beautiful she looked to him, but she had to beat him and broke the trail of silence.

“Hiccup,” she started off, but still wouldn’t look at him. When he acknowledged that he heard her, she took a deep sigh. He wanted to cross the table and hold her hand; to give her some encouragement to speak her mind, but she didn’t need it. She continued on her own. “It’s been a year,” her voice quivered as she spoke.

The lump in his throat started to rise and he looked back down at his plate trying to hold back his own tears. “It has,” his voice equally shaken.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t talked about it. They needed too. They had spent a lot of days and nights mourning over it. That night clearly fresh in both their minds. To Hiccup it still felt like it was yesterday whenever his mind brought it up. That’s why it seemed that the tears could always flow freely for him. Even now. Being so wrong and yet so hopeful was the worse blow to him in those hours. He couldn’t help but compare it to his own father’s death. This one was more devastating to him though. He always thought it was because with his father he tried very hard to stop what was happening. To stop the madman from using his friend as a weapon. This one though, he couldn’t do anything about the outcome, even if he tried. And he did try. Naming him after the strongest man he knew, hoping that somehow that strength would be passed down in those hours. He even resorted to pray and beg the gods to take him instead. Anything so they wouldn’t have to go through this. Nothing worked.

Then he heard her. He slowly raised his head and was in somewhat disbelief. “What?”

She cleared her throat before telling him again, “I- I want to try again.” When he didn’t react, she rephrased it smiling gently at him. The same way she did when she first asked for a child, “Hiccup I want to have another baby.”

The man across from her looked away trying to gather his thoughts. Trying to make sense of what she had just told him. His reaction was not the same as it was back then. And when the pieces did align he asked her, “Are you kidding?”

She shook her head.

His breathing was becoming heavy and ragged and as she tried to reassure him, explain to him why she wanted this, but he wouldn’t have any of it. Urgently, he got up from the table and sternly told her, “No.”

“But, Hiccup-“

“I said no Astrid,” he spat. “I’m not, we’re not going through this again. Do you hear me?” She was about to argue back when he continued, “Do you even know what day it is? Do you?”

“Of course I do!” she glared back at him.

“Then why of all the bloody days would you ask this. Do you not even care?”

She stood up from her own place and plunged her knife into the wood table. “Don’t you dare ever tell me that I don’t. I’m the one who carried him for months. I’m the one who went through hours of pain and labor to have him. And for what? For him to die in our arms.” Tears of sadness and anger were spilling down her cheeks now and Hiccup looked away. “I want another one Hiccup. I’m ready to try again. I’m willing too.”

His green eyes refused to look at her. They were filled with fear and grief and all he could muster in his voice was, “I’m not.” He turned on his heels and headed for the door and before she could stop him from leaving he came up with his excuse. “I have a lot of work to do. Come on Toothless.”

The reptile that was by the fireplace resting heard his rider call for him and was by his side in seconds. Before Astrid could stop him, both boys were up in the air leaving her behind to finish up her breakfast. She couldn’t though, all she did was sit back down, laid her head in her arms, and begin to sob.

That was his morning. Astrid wanted another child, but he couldn’t. All he could see, think of when mentioned the word, were flashes of his dead son. His small cold head resting in his arms. His blueish tint face laying their motionless as he covered it up. All because he was the Chief. He did it all with Gothi, but he still had to be a part of every horrible second. Sparing Astrid from the preparation of the funeral since she was still recovering back in their room with his mother.

He couldn’t do it again. Putting Astrid through it was defiantly out of the question whether she was willing to or not. He always knew he was a screw-up, but to be a screw up on this. He couldn’t even give his wife a child that would survive childbirth. This was the trail of thought that made him become angry and Toothless knew it all too well. Especially, when he screamed.

“Gods be damned!”

Toothless covered his head with his forelegs trying to block out his loud ranting. It lasted until Hiccup’s voice was hoarse. When the dragon heard his human start to whimper, he carefully got up and walked over to comfort the lad.

Immediately, Hiccup grabbed on to his black scaled friend and cried. He cried until all his tears had stopped and it was just his raw emotions.

“I can’t do it again, bud. I just can’t,” he sobbed. “What if next time it’s worse? What if I lose Astrid or both of them?” He looked up into his reptile’s eyes, “Why would the Gods do this to us? To me? Why are they trying to break my family?”

When Toothless softly nudge and cooed at his rider trying to cheer him up, Hiccup finally admitted what he was truly feeling. “I’m so afraid.”

More tears spilled from him and the Night Fury licked his face catching them. The Chief didn’t even care that the dragon’s spit was keeping his hair standing straight up, too focused on his crying. Both males stayed on the sea stack until everything Hiccup was feeling was finally out of his system and he felt ready to go back home.

It was going on sundown when Astrid returned to the village. She was out in the forest processing her own emotions. In other words, she was doing a lot of training with her ax and a lot of trees had very fresh new scars embedded into them. She couldn’t grasp why Hiccup was so upset. This was ultimately her choice and she would have thought that he would be thrilled that she was willing to have another baby. To try to grow their family more. And of course, she knew what today was. She had spent her whole morning, before he even awoke from the bed, inside his room. Her fingertips tracing over the cradle’s edges. Her hands holding the most imperfect yet perfect blanket that she made for him when she was five months along. Everything in there made her miss him and he never even made it up the stairs to see it. To see all the wonderful things that his parents prepared for him to have a comfortable life.

But he was also the reason why she asked Hiccup to try again. She didn’t want to imagine “the what ifs” anymore. She also didn’t want all their love and hard work to go away with him either. She loved her firstborn, no one could ever deny that. However, her beautiful little boy was gone and no matter how much it hurt. No matter how much it felt like daggers going straight through her, Astrid still wanted the family of many future dragon flyers scuffling along their wooden floor. Getting into trouble and mayhem like Hiccup did when he was younger. Being fierce warriors just like her. She wanted their dream of a family and she was willing to go through as much heartache as possible to get there. So why wasn’t Hiccup?

She walked towards the Great Hall, she figured she could use a drink after all the stress relief she did. On her way up the steps, she realized that today was the most that she and Hiccup had spent apart since their son’s passing. It was another reason why she needed that drink. When she open those heavy doors and walked in, she was very taken back.

There off to the side at a table being very loud and expressive, was Hiccup. Not just any Hiccup either, but a very drunk one surrounded by their friends and a couple of other Vikings.

“So this is what he calls working,” she thought angrily. She marched right up to him.

Reaching him she shoved him right off the bench he barely was sitting in, taking everyone by surprise. Hiccup, however, was so drunk that he was laughing and trying to pull himself up. When he couldn’t he rolled over smiling. It all vanished when her blurry figure came back into focus again. It was replaced with a twinge of regret, but mostly it was irritation. When she spoke the feeling only grew.

“How dare you,” she started. “This is what you called working!”

Most of the Vikings surrounding the table had left seeing the confrontation started. The only ones who stayed with them were their closest friends, but all were very uncomfortable either looking away or sipping on their own mugs.

Drunk and already not in the mood to deal with whatever Astrid was spouting, Hiccup answered her, “And if it is? Who are you to question your Chief?” He hiccupped out the last word.

“I’m your wife!”

“Some wife you are turning out to be,” he slurred flaring his arms a little.

One of their friends, Eret, seeing the hurt look in Astrid’s eyes tried to bring back some sensibility to the drunk chief. He placed a hand on his shoulder, “Uh Hiccup, maybe you should-”

“NO!” Hiccup threw the man’s hand off of him and glared at the Blonde woman in front of him. “Do you even know what she asked of me today? Today of ALL days! The day of our son’s death! Stoick the Second’s anniversary.” When they were all silent and Astrid looked down he continued, still slurring the words, “She asked me to give her another baby. A child. Well, guess what?”

“Actually Hiccup,” Fishlegs began trying to bring in some support, “That wouldn’t be such a bad-”

“NO!” he yelled as loud as he could and if he were a dragon the whole Hall would have shook. “I’m not doing it! I refuse!” He stalked up to Astrid mere inches away from her now and she could clearly smell the mead off his breath. She would even wager that it was coming off the sweat he was perspiring. Yet, he continued to yell in her face, “I refuse, my dear, to break what little family I have left. So what are you going to do about it?” he poked her in her chest, challenging her.

Astrid did what she had too. With one punch she hit him squared in his jaw knocking him to the floor and out cold. She stepped over him and turn to her friends. “Take him home and give me the rest of his stupid mead.”

They did what she asked as she sat on the bench holding his mead in one hand and her head in the other. Tears were silently rolling down her cheeks. No one went up to her. No one dared too, which she was grateful for. She barely touched any of his leftover drink and it was an hour later until she realized exactly what her husband had said to her in his drunken state. She threw the last ounce of mead back and then headed back to her home. Back to her still past out Chief.

Walking in the first thing she did was check on Hiccup. He was still knocked out, but at least he was placed on their bed on his side. Their friends already thinking ahead of her left a wooden bucket, a cold cloth, and some water for the lad. She grabbed the cloth and gently patted it on his forehead. Doing this and looking at his sleeping face, Astrid smiled. She loved her husband no matter what, but when Hiccup was as drunk as he was, he became a man that she didn’t really know. He wasn’t the dignified reserved man who always thought before he spoke. Instead, all barriers were down and broken and he had no filter with his emotions when alcohol was in his system. It also was a good thing that he rarely did drink, today was just an emotional and different day for the both of them and she understood all too well.

“Hiccup,” she whispered as she brushed his bangs out of his face.

He groaned and flipped over to where she saw the dark bruise on his jaw start to form. She felt incredibly guilty, but she knew it was needed to be done to stop him from his drunken rant. So she held the cold compress on the wounded skin and hoped it would keep the swelling down. She left after a while of sitting with him fully content that he was okay. Astrid went upstairs and sat in the small chair in the corner of the unused nursery. She waited there until Hiccup woke up. She held onto the imperfect perfect blanket she made over a year ago and cried into it.

It was late in the night when Hiccup woke up. He felt like a Rumblehorn had hit him the way his head was pounding and the fact that he couldn’t move his jaw only made him believe the hypothesis even more. When he sat up everything was spinning and the next thing he knew he was over the side of his bed grabbing on to the bucket that was there and emptying anything that was in his stomach. When he was done he slumped over the bed frame, not wanting to move in case he felt sick again. When satisfied that he wasn’t going to be he sat back up, carefully this time, and took small sips of water from the cup that was next to him. After that, he tried to regain any memory that he lost while drunk. His face was scrunched while thinking. He remembered why he was drinking and anything before that, but after maybe his third mug of mead everything was a blur. He was going to need help in figuring it out and so he slowly began to move trying to find someone to help him.

When he finally made it to his bedroom doorway, he stopped. He stopped because he heard the smallest faint of crying coming from upstairs. He knew who it was and he tried to call out to her but his bruised jaw refused to move. Staggering he moved to the bottom of the stairs, hoping that the person would catch a glimpse of him there. Hearing more of her soft sobbing he knew she was never going to see him. He looked at the first step of the stairs and he sighed in fear. In fact, he felt his whole body trembling and it was not because he had a hangover. He closed his eyes and took his first step shakenly. When both feet were planted on the step he took a deep breath and took another, and then another. He looked like a newborn climbing them, but he didn’t care and he made it to the final step with his eyes still closed.

Hiccup stood there for a few moments gathering his courage. When he felt he had enough, he opened his eyes. The first sound he made sounded like a wounded animal’s gasp as he scanned his old room, the nursery, for the first time in over a year. Astrid kept everything the same, except that everything looked like it was still ready for a baby to arrive. She kept it that cleaned after all these months. Everywhere he looked he saw all the details that he put into this room and with every detail, it was like a dagger in his heart. He didn’t want to be up there, he didn’t want to remember any of it, but when he heard the soft sob coming from Astrid again; he remember why he was up in the room in the first place. It seemed that she didn’t even notice that he was there. She was too busy with her thoughts.

He crossed the room trying his best not to look at anything else. He tried not to notice the crib that took months to make or the chest that was full of clothes and small toys for him. He especially did not want to notice the small dragon stuff animal that he had as a child sitting on the desk waiting to be played with once again by his own offspring. Hiccup ignored it all as best as he could until he was in front of his wife. She still didn’t notice him and he knelt down. It was only when he touched her knee and rasped out her name, “Astrid.”

Her blue eyes snapped open and she stared at the man before her in disbelief. Hiccup was in the nursery. He was never in the nursery. He hasn’t been in the nursery since little Stoick’s death. But here he was. Kneeling before her with so much pain, guilt, and worry in his green eyes. She did the only thing she could think of at that moment. She threw herself at him tackling both of them to the floor as she held him close. He in return wrapped his arms around her holding her as tight as he could as both of the parents cried with each other.

In their emotional and vulnerable state, they apologized to one another. They apologized for everything said and everything they did. They even started to apologize for things that didn’t make sense, but it did to them. And when they had said all that they could they started to laugh. It was the first time in a while that they had a laugh together like that and it was a refreshing relief. It was so much of a relief for the both of them that Hiccup decided to do something he hadn’t done in a while.

He lifted Astrid’s chin just enough so he could lean in and kiss her. She, of course, kissed him back and soon both of them remembered what it felt like to be in love and married to each other. And of course, one thing always leads to another when it comes to the both of them.

It was a couple months later. Hiccup seemed to be doing better. He was still not ready and was completely fearful of the mention of having children, but thankfully Astrid never mention of having anymore after the night they spent together. She seemed to understand his worries and although he didn’t know what he said when he was blackout drunk, he promised her he would never get to that state ever again. He also never stepped back into the nursery either, which was fine. Astrid seemed to make it her own space and he was perfectly willing to give her just that, whenever she needed it.

He was in the shop with Gobber today. Finishing up the last saddle order and when the Viking happily took it out of his grasp he cracked his neck and smiled. The day seemed to be long and he couldn’t wait to go back to his home to Astrid so they could go on their nightly flight. He was about to turn and ask Gobber if he needed an help closing the shop when he caught the woman of his dreams come walking up to the window. His smile grew as he acknowledged her, “Good evening, Milady.”

Astrid’s smile only grew when hearing her nickname as she seemed to eagerly bounce on her heels in front of him. She then proceeds to ask him about his day and Hiccup of course answered, but he was eyeing her curiously.

“What has put you in such a happy mood?”

She giggled, which was odd for her, but she shrugged. “Oh, you know. It just seems to be one of those good days.”

“Yes,” he said, “it has, but you are never in this good of a mood. So what’s going on in that mind of yours?” He leaned on the counter and with a bit of tease in his voice he told, “Come on spill it. I know you’re dying too.”

She bit her bottom lip and contemplated on whether to tell him or not. When she thought it was better to do it now, she spat it out happily to him. “I’m pregnant!”

All the color in his face drained and all his merriment disappeared. He felt like he was going to be sick and if it weren’t for Toothless catching him before he hit the floor, he would have been knocked out. For his worse fear was back and coming true. His beautiful wife was pregnant again.

Hiccup didn’t want to be in the room. If anything he wanted to be as close as he could to the edge of the world right now, but he knew he couldn’t. Instead, he sat facing the corner of the room on a stool and was trying to keep himself calm. He tried to keep his breathing level, but every time Astrid would scream he would lose it and begin to panic all over again. He prayed to all the Norse Gods and any others listening that she would make it through. He just needed her to be okay at the very least. The only good thing about this delivery, however, was that she was further along when her water broke, then she was with Stoick. It wasn’t the full nine months, but being a few days early was better than a month and he defiantly counted those days to make sure. When Astrid screamed again he put his head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees, and started to cry quietly.

The soon to be father was very close to bolting out of the room, especially when hearing Astrid do the last scream. It sounded like someone was splitting her open. But, he was frozen to his seat in fear when he heard the smallest of cries and then another one. He lifted his head up slightly when he felt his mother’s small hand on his back.

Valka gave her son a gentle smile and asked, “Do you want to go see them?”

Hiccup shook his head, still petrified of the idea. Afraid everything was going to repeat itself.

The mother knelt next to her boy and softly spoke. “It’s okay Hiccup. They’re fine, you’re fine, and you really should go see your family.”

He finally sat up and Valka helped the shaking lad to stand, although he still had not turned around to see Astrid. He was about to tell his mother that he couldn’t do it, but then he heard his wife call his name. Slowly, he finally went to look upon her.

On their bed laid Astrid, tired and her hair a mess, looking like she had just won a massive battle and rightfully so. For she was not holding just one, but two small bundles in her arms that were graciously eating for the first time.

He nearly collapsed at the sight and his quivering legs somehow brought him to them as small tears rolled down his cheeks. The Chief fell to his knees when he reached them and the tears flowed freely when looking upon his children as a smile formed. He looked up at the new mother and she too was crying happily. He sat up on the bed and kissed the side of her face joyfully being careful not to smoosh one of the children she was holding.

His menstruations to her face made her chuckle, thus disturbing one of the twins feeding and causing them to cry out. This bringing the parent’s attention to the newborn.

That is when Hiccup asked his burning question, “And they’re alright? Both of them?”

“All your girls are fine Hiccup,” Astrid reassured him and rested her head on his shoulder.

“Girls? They’re both girls? I have two daughters?” The blonde nodded and he carefully touched the peach fuzz of hair on one of the girl’s head. He couldn’t tell the color of their hair like he could with his late son’s, but none of that matter to him. He was enjoying the realization that he had children and he whispered to his overly tired wife while laying his head on hers, “We have our family.”

“We do,” she said. In her mind, however, she couldn’t understand how the Gods could be so cruel to them with their first child and then bless them with two beautiful daughters. She didn’t spend much of her time thinking about it for she was now in love with two healthy little girls she was holding and she noticed everything about them. From their small slender nose to their rosy pink cheeks. One girl seemed to have a dark shade of peach fuzz hair than the other and she was thankful. Maybe it would help her tell them apart. From the grip they had, she could also tell that they were not going anywhere and that they may be causing a little bit of trouble when older. Either way, she could not be any happier than she was at the moment and neither could Hiccup.

Both parents watch the one crying until she was rearranged and once again was feeding. At that moment, Hiccup’s fear of having children began to slowly fade. Yet, a new one was steadily creeping its way up to the new parents. How were they supposed to handle and raise twins? Author’s Note: I wrote this because I just realized I now have 300 followers so here is to you guys! I spent all day on this thing for you amazing people. Also, I had this on my mind for a while now. You can also find this on my FanFiction account under the same username.

Side notes: Tokophobia is the fear of having children. There are two types. Type one is the being afraid of the idea of getting pregnant and having children or even the labor, usually, a woman has type one because it is diagnosed before you have children. Now type two is the fear of having children after a traumatic event either by miscarriage, stillborn and or a loss of a child at any age. Both woman or men can have type two and that is why I titled this fanfiction as such because this is Hiccup's fear and how he handled it. Also, I didn't name the twins because I didn't feel like it was a big point in this story like it was in the first. Besides, I figured you guys would have fun thinking of your own names for the girls.

Please let me know what you guys think and thank you for reading!

#how to train your dragon #how to train your dragon fanfiction #httyd fanfic #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #hiccup #astrid #hiccup haddock #astrid hofferson #tokophobia #sequel to stoick the second #stoick the second #hiccstrid #i may not like hiccstrid but i sure can write it lol #hiccup's children #astrid's children #hiccstrid kids

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betweensceneswriter · 7 years ago

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Second Wife-Chapter 19 : Breakfast and Bairns

Second Wife Table of Contents

Second Wife on AO3

Previously - Chapter 18 : Not Gone The Sassenach was dead, but not gone.

"It's a nuisance," she said, looking up to see me still watching. "Everything to do wi' bairns is a nuisance, almost. Still, ye'd never choose not to have them."

"No," I answered softly. "You wouldn't choose that" (Outlander 675).

The time periods on my version are closer to the book than the TV show—on the show, Jamie leaves, exiled with Dougal, and Claire is called to Geillis’s shop the same day. In the book, it’s closer to two weeks after Jamie leaves that Claire is arrested.

By now, Jamie wasn’t surprised at any post-coital personality fluctuations from Laoghaire. She woke up and had nothing to say to him, wouldn’t even look at him as she dressed. He stretched lazily, rolled over, and ignored her. He needed to live his life independently of Laoghaire’s moods. If his attitude for the day was determined by her, he’d be miserable all the time. And he intended to enjoy the relaxed way he felt after last night’s sexual relations; if he was going to be married, he should at least feel this way occasionally.

Jamie closed his eyes. Last night after sleeping with Laoghaire he had dreamed of Claire and Frank. Having never seen the man himself, the Frank of his imagination was a strange mix of Jack Randall and his brother Alex. With hair cropped short, as Claire described it, he imagined a lanky, loose man, rather than Black Jack Randall’s rigidity, with a face he hated to the depths of his being. The man who wore that face had torn him from his family and vindictively marked his body forever. Jamie couldn’t see his back, and his chest hid the scar from removing Randall’s brand on his ribcage, but there was no forgetting feeling so used and broken and violated. Randall had stolen his manhood for a time, but Claire had stayed with him as he worked to get himself back.

In his dream, Claire’s belly was ripe with their child. But instead of her mounting him in the moonlit darkness in Paris, pregnant with Faith, she was climbing atop Frank Randall, pregnant with Jamie’s son. Or was it Black Jack he saw? “Find me, Jamie,” she had said. And God, he could have reached out and killed her. His baby, her body—and she was giving herself to Frank?

Ah, he thought, with a sudden flush, covering his face with his hand. That’s why Laoghaire was angry. It hadn’t been but an hour or two after they had fallen asleep that he’d dreamed of Claire, and he’d woken up with an erection. He cringed as he remembered pulling Laoghaire atop him, her legs astride his pelvis. She was sleepy enough that she didn’t initially object, and her body felt so much like Claire pregnant, voluptuous breasts and curved belly. His hands and mouth were hungry for her. But as her mind cleared and she woke, she became angry, pulled herself off him, and turned her back to him. He’d apologized, of course he had. But how could he explain himself? “I’m sorry, lass, I was dreaming of my first wife traveling forward in time and having sex with her first husband while pregnant wi’ my bairn; and jealous, I took advantage of you?” There was no excuse.

Jamie was grateful for the distraction of packing and family, going downstairs for breakfast once he had dressed himself. He was greeted with fervent cries of “Nunka Jamie!!” from four enthusiastic little boys when he entered the dining room, a smile from Joanie and from Ian, and silence from Laoghaire.

“Paul and I thought we’d visited aplenty yesterday and we could get much done today at home,” Maggie said apologetically. “But the boys insisted that they wanted to see ‘Nunka Jamie’ again before ye left.”

“And how could one say no to such faces?” Jenny grinned, placing more scones close to Maggie’s two urchins, mouths stained red with berry juice.

“Nunka Jamie,” toothless Angus announced loudly. “Mama has a bairn growing in her tummy.”

“Wawr!” roared two-year-old Anthony, raising his hands and turning them into claws.

“Not a BEAR, silly,” said Angus, turning to his little brother. “A bairN. A baby.”

“Bee-bee,” repeated Anthony, his forehead wrinkled.

“I dinna fink Anfony understands,” said Angus, shaking his head sadly. Jamie patted the little one on the top of his curly-haired noggin.

“Really, Cousin Maggie? Number three? Congratulations,” said Marsali, bringing in a plate piled high with ham slices.

“Do you want a baby brother or a baby sister?” Jamie leaned forward to the boys’ level and asked them.

“Baby…wabbit!” Anthony announced solemnly.

Angus dissolved into giggles. “Silly Anfony! Mama can’t make a wabbit!”

Jamie glanced at Laoghaire, wondering if the interchange was amusing her, but she looked absent, remote. He looked away.

Ian was choking on a bannock across the table. “Maggie,” he said, “perhaps ye should be teaching yer sons a little more about bairns and where they come from.”

“Anthony is two,” she insisted, shaking her head. “Plenty of time for that later, ya ken?”

“So much good news,” sighed Jenny, her hand on Ian’s shoulder, looking with pleasure around the faces at her table. “Kitty to be married, and another bairn on the way. And Marsali, a grown-up lass of fourteen!” She smiled across at Jamie. “We surely wish ye lived closer, or that ye could stay longer.”

Jamie had just taken a bite of blueberry compote. “Aye, but ‘tis planting season. We canna stay away for long.”

“Well, maybe the girls can come visit their cousins for a time this summer,” Ian offered. Wee Janet and Marsali grinned wide-eyed at each other.

The time for farewells finally came, and the Balriggan Frasers mounted their horses and headed toward home.

Laoghaire stared at Jamie’s broad back on Gaoth. She had woken up to his lust in the darkness. In a way she felt gratified—she had stirred him enough that he wanted her again, so soon. But she was also angry, bitter, and confused.

Years ago, he had looked at her, hungry and single-minded. Once his hands had been drawn to her body like a moth to a candle; once his eager touch and desire drove her mad. After he rescued her in the hall, after the moments in the alcove, Laoghaire had envisioned her future—Jamie as her husband, living with her, sitting across from her at the table, sharing her bed, taking her body, fathering her children.

And that is what she had now, Laoghaire thought, tears beginning to well in her eyes. Why was it failing? Why wasn’t she happy?

When Jamie proposed marriage after Hogmanay, Laoghaire had thought finally Jamie would be freely devoted. All hers.

Claire was finally, truly gone.

☆☆☆☆☆

Ever since Claire had confronted her in the kitchen, Laoghaire had burned with resentment and anger.

As she replayed the situation in her mind, she became more and more convinced that what she had told Claire was true. Jamie belonged with her. Claire was a usurper, a cuckoo chick that had pushed her out of the nest. Laoghaire wanted her gone.

But after seeing Jamie and Claire together in the hall that night, Laoghaire tried to tell herself to stay away. It would only hurt and disturb her to see Jamie with the Sassenach. She should concentrate on her work.

“Oh, Laoghaire,” Mrs Fitz called out to her as Laoghaire was about to head home after a hard day’s labor. Though she stayed with Mrs. Fitz many nights, her da depended on her help with the younger children, and several nights a week he expected her to come home. Those were the nights he stayed out late at the tavern, drinking. Laoghaire’s ma had died three years ago, but he still grieved her, and getting soused was the one way he could forget.

Mrs. Fitz drew close to speak to Laoghaire quietly. “Remember to bring clean clouts with you from home. I’m past that time so I dinna keep any now, and ye dinna want to be caught unprepared.”

“Gran, what d��ye mean?” Laoghaire asked, confused.

‘Isna it about yer time, m’dear?” With no mother to look after her since she was 12 when her ma died in childbirth, Laoghaire’s grandmother had taken on the mothering role in her life.

Again? Laoghaire groaned inwardly. The curse of Eve, her da called it. Just another sign reminding the world that God despised women for their role in leading mankind astray, a monthly showing of blood that reminded all that death came to the world because of women.

“Ye note my courses, Gran?” Laoghaire asked, dumbfounded.

“Yer as regular as the moon, wee one,” said Mrs. Fitz. “I imagine it will start anytime.”

As she counted backward, Laoghaire was astounded that her gran was right. Well, she would make sure to have a stack of clean clouts ready.

Walking down the hallway to head out to the stable, Laoghaire was trying to decide what she should make for her family’s supper. She wasn’t expecting it when John Robert suddenly appeared in front of her, so she startled and nearly fell, but he gently grabbed her elbow and steadied her, as smooth in his movements as he had been with his words.

Laoghaire pushed past him. “I dinna want to talk to ye, John Robert.”

“What’s wrong, lass?” he asked, his eyes registering the chill in her body language.

Laoghaire had one word for him. “Married?” It was more a statement, a judgment than a question.

“It’s no what ye think, lass,” John Robert said. His hand was on the center of her back, right above her corset, stroking her gently, his fingers tracing the top edge of her shift. “I love ye. Can I please speak my case? Meet me at the tavern, t’night after the moonrise.”

He was so handsome, Laoghaire felt a pang in her stomach. She wished she could get it back—the way it felt to float down the street confident in her beauty, hopeful about her future, no longer bitter about the Sassenach stealing Jamie from her. She should say no, but her heart and body said “Just this once.”

And so it was, that after she fed her family, saw her father head off to the tavern to drink, and tucked her younger siblings into bed, Laoghaire found herself skulking in the shadows to the side of the tavern.

When John Robert appeared, she hushed him and pulled him into the darkness by the building with her.

“My da is in there,” she said. “I canna stay. What ye have to say to me, ye need to say here.”

“I need time to speak to ye, lass,” John Robert insisted. “He willna find out.”

She shouldn’t trust him, she knew she shouldn’t, but she pulled the hood of her cloak down over her face and followed him upstairs. When they were sitting in the parlor, John Robert touched her arm compassionately. “What have they been telling you?”

“The truth,” she said. “That ye have a wife, and bairns.”

“Yer the one I truly love.”

“It doesna matter. How ye feel doesna change the facts,” she said. “Yer married.”

“I am married. And I’m miserable, lass.” John Robert lamented, his hand on hers. She tried to feel nothing, but he looked so woeful. “My wife is pregnant, aye, but she doesna want me. I’m starving for love and attention. Being with you was the first comfort I’d had in months. Her family are weak constitutioned, and I’m afraid she’ll die in childbirth. What will happen to me, if she is gone? Will ye wait for me?”

“How long?” Laoghaire asked.

“Not long,” John said, his eyes and hands straying to the laces of her bodice, “But will you jest let me see ye, look at ye? Will ye grant me something to give me strength while I wait?”

She tried to resist, truly she did, but he said such nice things.

He had been right, though. She crept home in the darkness and was in her bed before her da came crashing in through the door, tripped across the doorstep in his boots, and soon was snoring drunkenly in his bed.

When Laoghaire arrived at the castle the next day, the kitchen was buzzing with the newest gossip. Dougal’s wife had been poisoned, and Geillis Duncan’s husband had died unexpectedly. Or was it the other way around? Whatever the facts of the matter, the result, Laoghaire was finally able to gather, was that Dougal had been sent home to mourn his wife, and Colum had angrily sent along Angus, Rupert, and Jamie.

“They say,” whispered Saffron, “That the reason Colum is so angry is that Geillis Duncan is with child. And they say it’s not Arthur Duncan’s bairn.”

“No,” agreed Fiona, glancing both directions to make sure none but Laoghaire heard, “They say it’s Dougal’s!”

“And,” Saffron added, “Colum was so mad about Jamie dueling with the MacDonalds that he made him leave the Sassenach here at Castle Leoch.”

This was new to Fiona, who turned to Saffron with an empathetic look on her face. “Oh, what a shame,” she said. “’Twill be hard for the young lovers to be apart.”

Laoghaire tried to hide her pleasure, but she took some satisfaction in knowing that at least Claire and Jamie weren’t together. Instead the Sassenach had to stay in the castle, where she continued to work in her surgery, binding up wounds and pounding and mixing potions for any of the castle inhabitants’ ailments or complaints.

But as Laoghaire thought about ailments and complaints, she also thought of the clean stack of clouts she had brought back from home that now sat on a shelf in her cupboard in Mrs. Fitz’s room. Several days went by, three, then four. And still, her courses did not come. “Regular as the moon,” Mrs. Fitz had said.

As the days went by, Laoghaire also began to see John Robert in a more realistic light. She would come around the corner in the castle and find him leaning up against a wall, speaking flirtatiously to one of the ladies’ maids. The next thing she knew, he would be putting his hands on one of the ladies of the castle as he helped her up on her freshly-shod horse. It become clearer with time that John Robert MacLeod’s word could not be trusted.

She truly didn’t want to believe it, but as the days went by, Laoghaire became more and more convinced.

John Robert was a rake, and she was pregnant with his baby.

On to Chapter 20 : The Waning O’ The Moon Desperate times call for desperate measures.

#Jamie fraser #Laoghaire MacKenzie #CanonCompliant #Why did Jamie marry Laoghaire?#Why did their marriage fall apart?#Outlander fanfic #BetweenSceneswriter

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i-donut-care-dot · 7 years ago

Text

Burning Love

(Little something I worked on for the past two days - I hope it’s worth the effort of neglecting the rest of my responsibilities XD)

This little one-shot focuses on the background character of Valka - from How to Train Your Dragon 2 - and her feelings, thoughts, doubts… She’s a very complex and simply amazing character and her relationship with Stoick made me fall in love with the whole Haddock family and its portayal…

Anyway, it was inspired by Ellie Amaya‘s (@dearhoneylemon ) reprise song based on “Stoick’s Ship” from the HTTYD2 score written by John Powell. You can hear it right here:

http://dearhoneylemon.tumblr.com/post/98484486872/warning-spoilers-in-case-you-havent-seen-it

And I thank her with all my heart for sharing this small piece of her talent :D

It basically inspired THIS.

Enjoy!

People are not capable of change.

Some of us are just born different, built a certain way…

And Stoick the Vast was certainly built the Viking way. He has always been stubborn - unmovable like a stone - demanding, brave, awe-inspiring and strict. Features of a great chief, indeed. He was impulsive too - he could raise his tone just a tiny bit, but it was enough to make people listen to him. He had that resonant, commanding voice, that beamed from his impressive posture and cut the air, like a powerful gust of cold, northern wind. He was strong like a mountain and could break the trees in half, if he only wished to. But he had never used his strength for bad purposes, instead he used it to protect - protect me, our son and the rest of the village. He was firm, intimidating, authoritative - like the roaring ocean during a storm… He was everything from the man, who is standing before me right now.

As soon as he saw me and his eyes locked on me, he… dropped his sword. And Stoick never dropped his sword. I keep watching him with caution, as he quickly reaches for his helmet and takes it off carelessly. He continues staring at me with wide eyes, but does not say anything. And Stoick was never speechless. I quickly wash the expression of disbelief and sadness from my face, and look down to compose myself.

“I know what you’re gonna say, Stoick…” - I hear my own, calm words leaving my mouth, breaking the tense silence.“How could I have done this?” - this time my voice trembles as his gentle gaze meets mine. He stands there, perfectly still and not moving a muscle - completely frozen. And Stoick never froze. I feel the guilt welling up in my chest, so I breathe out to keep my emotions in check. “Stayed away all these years? And why didn’t I come back to you? To our son?” - my own words immediately start to turn against me. They are full of regret and… despair. No. I am not the only one, who should feel guilty. I take on my defensive tone again and begin to speak. “Well…” - I pause for a moment to see him finally move from his place. “What sign did I have that you could change, Stoick? That anyone on Berk could?” - he carefully and slowly approaches me, one foot after another… It melts my flawless, proud facade in seconds. I am afraid of this Stoick - he is too calm, to collected, too… stoic. I hear Cloudjumper’s growl behind my back and I know the dragons are responding to my sudden state of panic. “I pleaded so many times to stop the fighting, to find another answer, but did any of you listen?“ - my voice is far from being tranquil and my thin shield is breaking up every second - my confidence shrinking along with it. He should have said something by now. He should have stormed all the way to me and throw everything in my face - all the pain, grievances, anger, disappointment, heartbreak. I abandoned him. I deserve everything, but compassion, empathy… and his loving gaze.

"I know that I left you to raise Hiccup alone…” - I lift my staff and grasp it with my both hands as a gesture of defense. He is very close now… so close, that I can see the gray strands in his once-flaming-red hair and beard. He takes another step and another, and another… “…but I thought he’d be better off without me.” - he raises his brows in confusion at my words, but does not stop. I look over my shoulder and take a step back. There is no other way out and I feel trapped - trapped in my own emotions, that I carried in my heart through all this years… and they start to overwhelm me. I feel the tears begin to well up in my eyes as I go on with my cracking voice. “And I was wrong, I see that now, but…” - I stop suddenly, when my back hits the firm, icy wall behind me and a gasp escapes my mouth. I turn my gaze to look at his face - much older since I had last seen it and sort of tired… marked with a few visible wrinkles - and then right into his forest green eyes. There is no anger in them. “Oh stop being so stoic, Stoick.” - I slightly raise my voice in concern, as I notice him slowly reaching out his left hand. “Go on… SHOUT, SCREAM, SAY SOMETHING-” - my desperate words are cut off by the sudden touch of his huge palm, gently and delicately cupping my face. I shrink unwittingly at the unexpected contact and stare at him with wide eyes. I feel like the whole eternity is passing us by, as we look at each other with uncertainty. All at once, his expression softens even more and both joy and relief appear on his face. And then the time stops at his words.

“You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you…”

I instantly feel the weight of these ten words. The amount of emotion they are carrying. I cannot take this any second longer, so I break. I close my eyes and let a single tear fall on my cheek, as I lower my head. The tight grip on my staff loosens and I feel every muscle in my body going numb. The day I lost you… - I hear his words echoing through my mind. His charity, calmness and a complete lack of anger are the worst possible tortures to me. Because now I sense and welcome the burden of all these past twenty years. And when he lays a soft kiss on my lips, they all come back to me, one by one. Everything becomes black and white and I finally understand, that I was wrong all along. As we break apart, I gulp the longtime guilt down my throat. Once again, I look deep into his eyes and I see the final proof in them.

People are capable of change.

This realization hurts even more, when I see him approach his magnificent and imposing dragon. My eyes wander from the creature’s remarkable horns, over his armored neck and jackhammer-like maw to the strong, pointed wings and clubbed tail. The Rumblehorn. Impressive. I hear Stoick call him Skullcrusher, as he pets the dragon’s huge head and it puts a wide smile on my face - I could not imagine my dear husband not giving his fellow dragon a mighty name, truly worthy of a warrior. I see an extraordinary bond between them - based on mutual respect and trust - and along with Cloudjumper, I admire them from nearby. Our eyes meet and he beckons me over to join him by his dragon’s side. I take a few steps forward and let my hand slip into the palm of his outstretched hand, and I smile even wider when his fingers curl around mine in a loving gesture. I allow Skullcrusher to sniff my other hand and I watch as he confidently nudges it with his nasal horn. I tenderly stroke his lower jaw with my left palm, while keeping the right one in Stoick’s warm grasp. His hands, which once used to kill - are now caressing both his dragon’s and my skin.

Once again…

People are capable of change.

These words are still echoing through my mind, even though I try so hard to focus on my son’s excited chatter. “Mom, you’d never recognize it.” - Hiccup starts babbling about all of his adventures on Berk for all of the past years, as he helps me prepare the supper. And even when he constantly keeps calling me Mom - which pours honey all over my love-hungry mother’s heart - I still cannot beat the feeling of shame, that I wasn’t there for him when he needed me. He forgave me. He gave me another chance. Still, it surely could not heal the deep wounds cast by his own mother, not in such short amount of time. “You wouldn’t believe how much everything’s changed…” - he goes on. You’re right, my son.. a while ago I wouldn’t believe, indeed.

“Your son’s changed Berk for the better. I think we did well with this one, Val.” - Stoick says and adds one more brick to my wall of blame. YOU did well, Stoick. Not me…

His enormous hands fall on both of my shoulders and it startles me to the point, that I drop all of the food from the plate right on the floor. I watch with embarrassment as in the matter of seconds, all of the fish end in Cloudjumper’s belly, after both he and Toothless quickly took care of the mess. I turn around in humiliation, but to my surprise I see, that this whole situation made Stoick laugh.

“I’m… a little out of practice.” - I explain myself to him and observe as he puts a new portion of fish on the plate, smiling all along.

“Well, y'know… I didn’t marry you for your cooking.” - And I smile at his teasing remark. For one brief moment I am able to draw my thoughts away and look back in time, to the happy days… If only it was possible in reality, not just in the memories…

“And once you move back in, with all your dragons, Drago won’t stand a chance. Everything will be okay!” - Hiccup’s words reach my ears as I walk away to fill the earthen pitcher with water, that’s dripping from the huge block of ice. I should stop dreaming. It is not possible for me to just ‘move back in’. I left Berk. There is no place for me there, not anymore. I cringe as my own dark thoughts cloud my mind and crash what’s left of the joy from reuniting with my long-lost family. Lost because of me. I can’t come back. Not after what had happened. Not after-

And then he starts to whistle. Not just any other song. It’s OUR song. Blurred flashbacks start to appear before my eyes. I blink a few times, but they feel so real…

The sound of his footsteps accompanies the cheerful melody when he approaches me from behind. He takes the pot from my hands and puts it away.

“Remember our song, Val?” - Stoick asks gently and I want nothing else, than to shout out ’Of course I do, my love!’. But no words leave my mouth. I stay silent, as he sings the first lines of our song.

“I’ll swim and sail on savage seas,

with ne'er a fear of drowning.

And gladly ride the waves of life,

if you will marry me.”

Word after word - I remember all of them perfectly. There is no way I could forget the song, that Stoick had sung to propose to me, long time ago. The song we danced to at our wedding, with the applause of the whole Berk. The song that accompanied us, in both good and bad days of our marriage. The song I used to hum to Hiccup to put him to sleep, when he was just a small baby. I missed it so much. I missed them.

Stoick goes on with the singing and I relax a little, when he delicately caresses my cheek with his palm and then slowly turns my face towards his.

“No scorching sun, nor freezing cold will st—”

“WILL STOP ME ON MY JOUR—ney. Sorry ” - Gobber interrupts him with his much more vivid tunes of the song - and probably earns Stoick’s famous disapproving gaze for this. I would have found it very funny either, in different situation…

“If you will promise me your heart. And love…” - Stoick proceeds and tenderly links our fingers together, as he reaches for my hand and brings it to his heart. His long beard is tickling the skin on the back of my palm and I realize how much I had missed his touch. He looks at me with anticipation. I close my eyes and drift away with the memories for a moment.

There is no harm in trying, right? So I will try again. WE will try again.

“ …And love me for eternity.” - I finish for him and I hear the instant relief in his voice, when he sighs deeply. I walk away from him, just a tiny bit, so there’s more room for both of us and I continue my singing.

“My dearest one, my darling dear, your mighty words astound me.” - I feel the weight of the past twenty years slowly load off my mind as I sing the next lines of the song. “But I’ve no need of mighty deeds, when I feel your arms around me.” - And then I cannot help, but smile when I reach out my bend arm and Stoick immediately does the same, so our forearms touch and we begin circling together in the familiar rhythm. The memory of the dance steps still fresh in our minds as we pick up the pace of our singing.

“But I would bring you rings of gold, I’d even sing you poetry!”

“Oh, would you?” - I cut in, as we bump into each other and I laugh it off instantly.

“And I would keep you from all harm if you would stay beside me!” - I smile even wider when he laughs along with me as he sings.

“I have no use for rings of gold, I care not for your poetry. I only want your hand to hold…” - I gracefully spin around in his arms, as the song goes on and our love is renewing before our own eyes.

“I only want you near me!” - his words alone are enough to me. There’s nothing holding me back right now. So our voices finally unite in one melody…

“To love and kiss, to sweetly hold! For the dancing and the dreaming! Through all life’s sorrows and delights, I’ll keep your laugh inside me!

I’ll swim and sail on savage seas with ne'er a fear of drowning! And gladly ride the waves of life If you will marry me!” - Stoick lifts me up with his hands and I feel complete again. There is no room for any more hollow thoughts, when we all laugh together and my husband is still holding me tight in his powerful embrace, as if he meant never to let go again.

“Ah… I thought I’d have to die before we’d have that dance again.” - he says with a dreamy voice, still panting from the dance.

“No need for drastic measures.” - I respond with a breathy chuckle and we both stare into each other’s eyes, when he kneels and speaks aloud the words, that I would never forget.

“For you, my dear… anything.”

People are capable of change.

We all are born different. And we die different.

We just cannot know when and where we die.

And Stoick the Vast certainly did not expect to die from his son’s dragon fire blast.

To tell the truth, nobody expected that. I would have never believed it myself. But when I pressed my ear to his still chest and I didn’t hear the familiar beat, and instead the rumbling silence, I knew…

Not even his bravery, stubbornness, impulsiveness, nor strength could save him today.

Because he did not think of himself, when he rushed to protect our son - the future of all Berk.

And it breaks my heart to see Hiccup like this - as if he already had the weight of the whole world on his shoulders. He doesn’t say anything, when we prepare the boat. Not even when we cover Stoick’s body with white sheet and place his helmet on top. I painfully see Hiccup grieving on the inside, letting only a few tears fall on his cheeks from time to time. He tries so hard to be strong - for his people… and probably for me. The spitting image of his father.

We let Stoick’s ship sail slowly and I watch as it flows to the open sea, with my late husband’s body on board. The mourning silence is broken only by the sound of the cracking fire, that’s devouring the remaining wreckages of the abandoned ships. We quietly observe as Gobber approaches with a bow and arrows in his hand, and opens the ceremony with an old, Viking funeral rite.

“May the valkyries welcome you and lead you through Odin’s great battlefield. May they sing your name with love and fury, so that we might hear it rise from the depths of Valhalla and know that you’ve taken your rightful place at the table of kings.

For a great man has fallen: A warrior. A chieftain. A father. A friend.”

A husband - I add in my head. My dearest one…

I raise up the bow and correct my grip, as I focus on the flaming arrowhead and its target. The tears blur my vision and I can only see the outline of the receding ship, at which I aim my arrow. As I release it, I can only think how the fire will separate us once more, the last time being twenty long years ago.

So we part again, my love…

If you want to share my work somewhere else, please leave credit and link to the original, thank you!

How to Train Your Dragon franchise (based on Cressida Cowell’s books) belongs entirely to the Dreamworks Animation Company.

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wildchildalr · 7 years ago

Photo

The dragon lived in a lilac wood, and she lived all alone. She was very old, though she did not know it, and she was no longer the careless color of sea foam, but rather the color of snow falling on a moonlit night. But her eyes were still clear and unwearied, and she still moved like a shadow on the sea.

She did not look anything like a humongous lizard, as dragons are often pictured, being smaller and possessing five long slender toes, and bearing that oldest, wildest grace that horses have never had, that deer have only in a shy, thin imitation and goats in dancing mockery. Her neck was long and slender, making her head seem smaller than it was, and she had pointed ears and thin legs, with wings of white that shone and shivered with their own seashell light even in the deepest midnight. She was invisible to all but the pure of heart unless she chose otherwise.

One day it happened that two men with long bows rode through her forest, hunting for deer. The dragon followed them, moving so warily that not even the horses knew she was near. The sight of men filled her with an old, slow, strange mixture of tenderness and terror. She never let one see her if she could help it, but she liked to watch them ride by and hear them talking.

“I mislike the feel of this forest,” the elder of the two hunters grumbled. “Creatures that live in a dragon’s wood learn a little magic of their own in time, mainly concerned with disappearing. We’ll find no game here.”

“Dragons are long gone,” the second man said. “If, indeed, they ever were. This is a forest like any other. Isn’t it?”

“Then why do the leaves never fall here, or the snow? I tell you, there is one dragon left in the world – good luck to the lonely old thing, I say – and as long as it lives in this forest, there won’t be a hunter who takes so much as a titmouse home at his saddle. Ride on, ride on, you’ll see.”

They rode on a short distance.

“Let’s turn around and hunt somewhere else,” the second hunter said abruptly.

The dragon stepped softly into a thicket as they turned their horses, and took up the trail only when they were well ahead of her once more. The men rode in silence until they were nearing the edge of the forest, when that second hunter asked quietly, “Why did they go away, do you think? If there ever were such things.”

“Who knows? Times change. Would you call this age a good one for dragons?”

“No, but I wonder if any man before us ever thought his time a good time for dragons. And it seems to me now that I have heard stories – but I was sleepy with wine, or I was thinking of something else. Well, no matter. There’s light enough yet to hunt, if we hurry. Come!”

They broke out of the woods, kicked their horses to a gallop, and dashed away. But before they were out of sight, the first hunter looked back over his shoulder and called, just as though he could see the dragon standing in shadow, “Stay where you are, poor beast. This is no world for you. Stay in your forest, and keep your trees green and your friends long-lived. Good luck to you, for you are the last!”

The dragon stood still at the edge of the forest and said aloud, “I am the only dragon there is?” They were the first words she had spoken, even to herself, in more than a hundred years.

That can’t be, she thought. She had never minded being alone, never seeing another dragon, because she had always known that there were others like her in the world, and a dragon needs no more than that for company. “But I would know if all the others were gone. I’d be gone too. Nothing can happen to them that does not happen to me.”

Her own voice frightened her and made her want to be running. She moved along the dark paths of her forest, swift and shining, passing through sudden clearings unbearably brilliant with grass or soft with shadow, aware of everything around her, from the weeds that brushed her ankles to insect-quick flickers of blue and silver as the wind lifted the leaves. “Oh, I could never leave this, I never could, not if I really were the only dragon in the world. I know how to live here, I know how everything smells, and tastes, and is. What could I ever search for in the world, except this again?”

But when she stopped running at last and stood still, listening to crows and a quarrel of squirrels over her head, she wondered, But suppose they are hiding together, somewhere far away? What if they are hiding and waiting for me? In need of my help?

From that first moment of doubt, there was no peace for her; from the time she first imagined leaving her forest, she could not stand in one place without wanting to be somewhere else. She trotted up and down beside her pool, restless and unhappy. Dragons are not meant to make choices. She said no, and yes, and no again, day and night, and for the first time she began to feel the minutes crawling over her like worms. “I will not go. Because men have seen no dragons for a while does not mean they have all vanished. Even if it were true, I would not go. I live here. There has never been a time without dragons. We live forever! We are as old as the sky, old as the moon! We can be hunted, trapped; we can even be killed if we leave our forests, but we do not vanish.” She then remembered from centuries past when her brother, thirsty for more territory left his forest and terrorized the surrounding area. He had been shot down with a giant black arrow by a fearsome horse lord.

Perhaps a similar fate had befallen the rest of her kind. “Am I truly the last? ”

But at last she woke up in the middle of one warm night and said, “Yes, but now.” She hurried through her forest trying to look at nothing and smell nothing, trying not to feel her earth under her taloned claws. The animals who move in the dark, the owls and the foxes and the deer, raised their heads as she passed by, but she would not look at them. I must go quickly, she thought, and come back as soon as I can. Maybe I won’t have to go very far. But whether I find the others or not, I will come back very soon, as soon as I can.

Under the moon, the road that ran from the edge of her forest gleamed like water, but when she stepped out onto it, away from the trees, she felt how hard it was, and how long. She almost turned back then; but instead she took a deep breath of the woods air that still drifted to her, and held it in her mouth like a flower, as long as she could.

While traveling the dragon meets a spider that reveals that a monstrous stone giant called the Mountain herded her kind to the ends of the earth under the order of King Tywin years before. Venturing further into unfamiliar territory beyond the safety of her home, the Dragon journeys to find them and bring them all back.

Upon her journey, the Dragon is captured by the evil warlock Pyat Pree and is put on display in Pyat Pree‘s Midnight Carnival. As most of the attractions are normal animals with a spell of illusion placed on them (a toothless lion for a Sphynx, a crippled dog for a Direwolf, and a mere snake for a sea serpent), Pree uses a spell to create a pair of shackles that the non-magical carnival visitors can see her, as they are unable to see her real form. Pree keeps the immortal harpy Meereen captive as well and acknowledges the dangers of caging such a monster, but deems the risk secondary to the deed’s recognition and prestige. While held captive, the dragon is befriended by Tyrion an incompetent dwarf magician in the service of Pyat Pree. With the help of Tyrion the Dragon escapes, in the process freeing Meereen, who kills Pree and his henchman Xaro. The Dragon and Tyrion later gain a second traveling companion Jorah Mormont, a careworn former knight who is a member of the highway bandit group called the Brotherhood Without Banners.

When the Dragon nears the seaside castle of King Tywin, the keeper of the Mountain, she encounters the creature, which turns out to be a monstrous earth elemental. The Mountain chases her around the area attepting to wear her down. At the last moment before her capture, Tyrion uses his unpredictable magic and transforms her into a human woman with white knee-length hair. With her in this guise, the Mountain is uninterested and departs. The Dragon suffers tremendous shock at the feeling of mortality in her body. While Jorah wraps the Dragon’s human form in a blanket, Tyrion states that the magic, not he, chose the form, and promises that he will return her to normal after the quest is complete.

Tyrion, Jorah, and the now-human Dragon proceed to King Tywin’s castle. Tywin is at first unwelcoming, and Tyrion introduces the Dragon as his niece Lady Daenerys. Tyrion requests that the three of them stay there as members of Tywin’s court, only to be told that the only occupants of the castle are Tywin, his adopted son Prince Robb and four ancient men-at-arms. Nonetheless, Tywin consents to lodge the trio, replacing his more competent on-call wizard, Littlefinger, with Tyrion, and setting Jorah to work in his scullery.

Daenerys begins to forget her identity and her reasons for coming to the castle and falls in love with Prince Rob as the result of the mortality of her current form. Caught in her newfound emotions, she struggles with thoughts of abandoning her quest for the sake of mortal love. Tywin eventually reveals to Daenerys that the dragons are trapped in the sea for his own benefit, because the dragons are the only things that make him happy. He then openly accuses Daenerys of coming to his kingdom to save the dragons and says that he knows who she really is, but she has seemingly forgotten about her true nature and her desire to save the other dragons. Yet from the waning magic in her eyes, he has doubts regarding his previous suspicions that she is more than she seems. Meanwhile, Jorah is able to learn the location of the Mountain’s lair from a talking raven.

Jorah, Tyrion and Daenerys are joined by Robb as they enter the elemental’s den, but Tywin attempts to trap them by destroying the way they came in. Tyrion reveals Daenerys’ true identity to Robb after explaining what they are looking for. Robb is unmoved and says that he loves her anyway. This makes Daenerys want to abandon the quest and marry Robb, but he dissuades her. The Mountain appears, but is no longer deceived by Daenerys’ human form and chases after her. As Robb struggles to protect her, Tyrion turns Daenerys back into the Dragon, but she is unwilling to leave Robb’s side. The Mountain drives her toward the ocean just as he earlier drove all the other dragons, but she manages to run away and the Mountain gives chase. Robb tries to defend her, but is trampled by the creature. Enraged, the Dragon turns on the Mountain and forces him into the sea. Carried on the white surf of incoming tides, the other dragons emerge en-masse from the water, causing Tywin’s castle to collapse into the sea as they rush past, with Tywin falling to his death.

On the beach, the Dragon magically revives Robb before departing for her forest. Tyrion assures Robb that he has gained much by winning the love of a dragon, even if he is now alone. He departs to start anew. The Dragon returns to say goodbye to Tyrion, who laments he has done her wrong by burdening her with regret and the taint of mortality, which could make her unable to rejoin her kind in the forest. She disagrees about the importance of his actions, as they helped them to restore dragons to the world; though she is the only dragon to feel regret, she is also the only dragon to know love. Tyrion and Jorah watch the Dragon as she departs for her home in the woods.

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fyrborn · 7 years ago

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pls talk to us about the dragons and their different personalities.

anonymous ❖ here’s the worst tldr list, but this is more in depth sorta

me: i’ll get to writing the bios tomorrowme @ me: stop lying

&&. in all seriousness, i will get to them, but school is starting soon. smh prop you should have gotten your shit together with this blog. anyway, don’t be like me and make a multidragon blog and expect yourself to write in depth bios lmao

to make this clear since all dragons share this: they’re PRIDEFUL and INTELLIGENT. i know i joke about the best way to not getting yourself eaten is by calling them pretty, but it kinda is in a sense. after all, when you look at a dragon, you see a monster and beast, things along those lines. you don’t exactly see the beauty in serrated, sword long teeth that’s got charred flesh stuck in between or the smoldering ruins they leave behind. it doesn’t bother them if you call them otherwise, but it would hold their curiosity to judge you in seeing if you’re sincere or at least give you time to look for an exit ( viserion tends to be very vain and balerion likes to puff out his chest ). after all, winning their favor would be in your best interest when encountering them.

they are intelligent creatures and they do understand human speech. they know what you’re saying regardless of whatever shit you’re trying to call them in a cheery tone. it’s like in hp when draco called buckbeak an ugly brute. talk shit, get hit buddy. meraxes is the most forgiving, just saying, but even she has her limits. they are in tune with their rider’s feelings through their bond and it’s one that is magical and more. it’s why the dragons can be called without any verbal message or command. the dragons communicate through a variety of sounds too, which ( aside from body language ) communicates what they’re trying to get at. i’m going off my own hc that the dragons do share their own experiences with one another. they can show each other images, sounds, scents, touch, and feelings depending on how close they are. this could eventually be something their riders might experience if they’re close enough. again it’s their own jurisdiction on whether they want to share or not. sometimes if the bond is really strong there’s no hiding it.

also to make this clear, just because you’re their RIDER does not necessarily save you from possibly getting injured or snapped at. they’re WILD no matter how long they’ve had a rider for. there is no TAMING of a dragon ( dany got snapped at y’know ) and once a dragon sets their mind to doing something, they’ll do it regardless of being told no. along with that note, the dragon chooses the rider, not the other way around.

and now we get into what y’all really want.

balerion: is founded on this need to survive as he was one of the five dragons that was brought over from the doom. i’m not saying they didn’t feed him or anything, he can hunt on his own quite well, but i’m sure he most likely fought the other fledglings for food. and as he grew, he became more outwardly aggressive in dominating and suppressing the other dragons. most likely if these dragons didn’t die from natural causes, balerion would have killed them himself when they started to toe the line with him. honestly, i wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t partial to cannibalism. with how much he ate and having all the free skies to fly, he grew into what massive size and fire power he was known for. pretty much this is the part that makes me laugh too when jaime??? in the show was saying drogon was full grown. drogon is like a fourth of his size. he wouldn’t make an impact if they collided in the air and balerion would eat him alive. aren’t ya glad he’s dead?

i’m trying really hard to remember what word fits him, but it’s not arrogance. he knows what he’s capable of and he has the right to act as he does. balerion has an air of superiority ( it doesn’t help that he does look down at you from his snout ), but it’s a very imposing and tangible type of atmosphere when you meet him. he wants your respect. he won’t ask for it. he DEMANDS it. which raises the question that i made early on my dash, about how anyone could have possibly controlled balerion. anyway, balerion does not go out of his way to be cruel. none of the dragons do actually, they kill for a reason and not for sport ( chasing is fun though ). he can be quite sweet ( surprise!!!! ) to those he trusts. no, he won’t roll over and wag his tail like a puppy ( they’re more feline like when it comes to body language anyway ), but he will make the softest sounds and nudge you as gentle as possible for a scratch ( not that you can really do much at his age ).

here’s a sample that i wrote for some meme on my other blog:

the skies are his to rule and he fills it with dragon song. from deep within his stomach, presses out through chest and vibrates through throat, it comes in ROAR meant to signify his presence. how any creature, small or large ( all insignificant ), can not make note of his presence was surely foolish. for even the BLIND can see his strength, let it roll over them and know how immense of a beast he was. for even the DEAF can hear what mighty beast he was, feel the way the EARTH quivers underneath wing stroke. even the SILENT can utter gasping screams when BLACK FIRE scorches land and all its inhabitants. they should all know and see just WHO it is that truly bears the CROWN.

WHY RULE SEVEN KINGDOMS WHEN THE SKY ENCOMPASSES ALL?

crimson gaze settles upon silver scales that GLEAM in sunlight. and dragon song once more makes itself heard, though not of his own and balerion only eyes the CHALLENGER with disinterest. such a fledgling ( by his standards ) can screech in defiance and utter his PETTY challenges all he wishes. it would not matter. HE WILL CRUSH THIS ONE’S SKULL BETWEEN HIS TEETH. maegor be willing ( or unwilling ), he will know what is BEST for them both and let him tear this silver one apart.

FOOLISH THING

he has lived a HUNDRED YEARS AND MORE. he has seen and faced battles FAR GREATER than this child of blood and fire has ever seen much less been in. dark shadow is cast and falls below the city ( human nest ). how such fragile creatures take to hiding, so unlike the human child that sits upon his black scales and holds onto scarlet tinged horns and spines. a whisper from maegor, a language that HE KNOWS SINCE HATCHING is given. kessa īlon zālagon zirȳ, balerion? he need not ask such a thing. the dragon will show what FIRES BURN within his chest.

DO YOU THINK YOU CAN DEFEAT ME?

how can such a SMALL DRAGON hope to compare to such a beast like him? great jaws part and reveal curved teeth, CRUELthings that have CLEAVED armored men in half and feasted upon their horses like human children eating sweets. he calls then, to this QUICKSILVER dragon. wingstrokes carrying him far and he is met with open aggression. clawed feet latch onto his, but by far, he DWARFS this little sky lord. one can not simply DEFEAT A KING like he.

A CENTURY TOO YOUNG

teeth SINK through scales with such ease and reminds him of humans in their worthless metal armor. and it is just like them that he will end THIS IMPUDENT LORD’S LIFE. nostrils flare as he breathes in, feels VOLCANIC HEAT rise up from his chest and PITCH BLACK FLAMES spew from the depths of his throat and rush to burn at joint where bone connects wing to body. there is a cry of PAIN AND AGONY, but that only fuels such eagerness for the kill. a sharp jerk of his head, power given by thick neck muscle, and he makes QUICK WORK of this dragon. jaws slacken for just a second before snapping back shut. with one final SNAP, the wing tears free.

vhagar: vhagar and meraxes were born after balerion, both of who are female. they are close to one another not just because of how close they were hatching, but also being girls essentially ( they got each other’s back like visenya and rhaenys!!! ). she is very forward in what she wants and how she wants it. there are no warnings with vhagar, save with visenya of course, but generally it’s best to tread very lightly with her. she’s the embodiment of i’ll take it with fire and blood and would die fighting. vhagar is very into proving to everyone she’s capable of handling herself. while she’s not a tactician of any sort, vhagar does use the field to her advantage and not to mention her size. more or less that first started with picking fights with balerion when she was old enough. she is not scared of balerion whatsoever and often would get the upper hand of things despite being slightly smaller. she’s a quick thinker and ferocious when it comes to fighting ( more like sore loser lbr ). vhagar sadly does have a short temper, so often enough she will kinda explode when things that have been annoying her build up, but as quick as it starts, it’s also quick to go away.

she is pretty smug though. you know that scene in httyd where toothless kinda laughs at the other dragon he spat fire at? yeah that’s vhagar when she beat balerion. i hc that there were two major fights between the both of them, which could have ended up with either of them dead. in both cases, vhagar had the upper hand and she used the environment to her advantage. the first time was in dragonstone and vhagar nearly drowned balerion if it wasn’t for meraxes knocking her off. the second time was in king’s landing within the dragonpit because of some spacial pressure. they’re used to open skies and being able to fly freely, not being kept in one place completely. it’s a good thing they kept the fight short or the city would have all burned.

meraxes: is the most forgiving of dragons. or rather, the most TOLERANT of them. by all means, she’s not docile. please don’t think that. she surely is the most patient and willing to wait ( to think before she leaps! ) to see what happens. she’s inquisitive by nature and finds herself rather content with lazing in the sun. though it’s not to say she’s not as ferocious as the other two in the skies. by all means, meraxes is no push over. she just has an extremely high patience, especially when it comes to balerion and vhagar. only when it’s a life and death situation will she intervene in their fights. otherwise she lets them go at it until they go into a stalemate. meraxes certainly does have a more motherly nature and often enough does coddle rhaenys should she see her upset. to a certain extent, she does find human children amusing and might allow a few curious ( and brave! ) to try and climb on her, but she’ll shake them off or push them away when she’s had enough.

( i gotta think about her more because she’s not as developed as i hoped aside from #she protec and #she attac)

drogon: he shares a lot of aspects with balerion ( death reincarnate! ), but because of how he was raised ( since i write balerion already hatched and wasn’t bonded at first to aenys ), he’s very tied to daenerys. in a sense he DOES want to be his mother’s son. he adores her and will do what he can to make her happy and content, but it’s also with this love that brings him such CONFLICT. you’ll see this especially when he becomes bigger than a small dog. he wants to be FREE to do what he wants without having to come back to dany and he kinda wants to come to her on his own terms. i mean ever since they were young, they mostly stayed within their mother’s view. and now they’re large enough to go somewhere without people trying to catch them in a sense.

drogon wants to be the first. first ( lmao ) and foremost is to SURVIVE. after all, there were people trying to separate him and his brothers from their mother and there is nothing more powerful than fear to be your guide LMAO. essentially he doesn’t want to be in that position again. he wants to be able to be the one who protects himself, his siblings, but also his mother and that is a huge driving force ( also generally what gets him to rush right on back ). and there, again, is this WILDERNESS that even dany can not tame no matter how much she can try. the best way, thankfully so, is through compromise. i think the fact that drogon had snapped at her the first time was shocking to her. drogon has always been gentle with her and to have this happen is eye opening. but aside from that!!! he does push his weight around. with his siblings, he makes it very clear that he is the one in charge. not to say that neither of them won’t challenge him from time to time. though this was mostly when they were younger and around the same size, though drogon still having a little more growth on him.

he is a very stubborn dragon and he likes making it known that you should not test him, no exceptions even with dany ( ie snappity snap ). and as he grows larger and older, drogon definitely does find his own way in things. and honestly??? going into a fight with dany on his back is also kinda fun for him in a sense because hello prey drive, but also charred horse is pretty nice. viserion and rhaegal already ate humans so??? it’s not like he can miss out!!!

viserion: call him the PRETTIEST dragon you’ve ever seen and he’ll wait for you to compliment him more. viserion is VAIN and he likes to be praised ( fastest way to his heart ). the one thing he noticed right off the bat when he became more aware of his surroundings is that he is the color of the metal objects that people so covet, which only adds to his ridiculous ego. now i’m not saying that he’s going to stare off into a mirror all the time, but he takes a lot of time and pride in his appearance. however, i wouldn’t go as far as to count him out when it comes to a fight. just because there’s some blood being splattered or there’s some mud involved, doesn’t mean anything. being vain also means he’ll defend his name and reputation through his own force and means. so he does at times get into fights with drogon and rhaegal, but it stops once he’s makes his point ( or when drogon makes his point lmao ). hence why he grows more and more aggressive when he’s older.

he is a very CONSERVATIVE dragon ( no politics \ o / ) and by that I mean he only does things when he deems his energy and time is worth it. this applies to moving too. big cats, for example, they only use enough energy to leap from one platform to the edge of another platform. no more and no less. viserion is like that and he is a very graceful flier because of it. though this does make him appear to be the LAZIEST dragon as he’s often seen basking in the sun while rhaegal might be off doing spiral dives for fun. speaking of his brother though, both he and rhaegal are the closest with each other because of the time they spent with each other when they were chained up, but also because of the fact they get along really well??? they work very well when it comes to hunting together and it’s really coordinated ( think ambushing when they were younger ). but!!! viserion is PROTECTIVE of rhaegal and keeps an eye on him and like siblings, they’ll back each other up. they do nest together and they don’t often stay away for too long from each other. it’s more so for reassurance than it is because they’re dependent on one another.

he hates the cold.

rhaegal: the smallest and by far is not coddled. in fact he would actually get angry if you do things for him ( not that he doesn’t appreciate the sentiment ) because he likes to EARN things. he is a hard worker and it’s so much more SATISFYING to him if he does. he doesn’t have an inferiority complex, but he does turn everything into a COMPETITION. he shares traits with vhagar in the sense that he wants to prove himself. hence why once he sees drogon do something, rhaegal is the one who will surely follow since he wants to also beat viserion to the punch. he is TENACIOUS in anything he tries to do and if he doesn’t get it right the first time. drogon might have been the first to fish in the seas while they were traveling on boat, but rhaegal would have been the second to dive right in. you’ll find him rather brave and bold. when he was younger he wouldn’t hesitate to fight back larger and stronger opponents and i wouldn’t put it past him to make a go at horses when he was on the ground or even dorthraki riders when they’re close by. and as he grew, it’s not surprising when he becomes the most TROUBLESOME of dragons when it came to having to find his way with wow growth spurt lmao and finding how to fly properly. all wings and kinda lanky before filing out. tbh, rhaegal isn’t the most graceful of dragons to fly since he relies a lot on speed so his movements can be sharp when there are turns and he likes to test the limits of his capabilities ( honestly imagine nearly crashing if it wasn’t for viserion or drogon to cushion/ help him pull back ).

surprisingly, he’s also the most SOCIAL of all dragons and CURIOUS of them. which makes him a bit more easier to handle in comparison to his brothers when he was younger. so it was alright for dany to essentially hand him off to someone else close to her to hold ( like jorah or missandei ). it’s why he’s rather SOFT when it comes to those close to dany and will often take it to kinda check in on them ( he’s got a good heart!!! ). though it might come unwelcomed when he scares the heck out of you. rhaegal, as i mentioned above, is very close with viserion. even before they were chained beneath the pyrimids, they grew to rely on one another more than they did drogon. rhaegal has been one to sleep next to viserion and at times will share food ( if he’s generous ). though they do have their fair share of fights for the meal. and i gotta write a sad dragon now smh.

#( i'm not biased )#( i just love balerion a lot )#( aren't you glad this asshole is dead lmao )#( also hope this helps anon )#( i'm just super busy with school starting )#Anonymous #a raven has arrived my lady ❖ ooc ask

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anavoliselenu · 7 years ago

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Creighton Chapter 1

COUNTRY STAR JC HUGHES CAUGHT BETWEEN A COCK AND A HARD PLACE

How is he going to explain this one away to girlfriend Selena Wix and his fans?

“That two-timin’ son of a . . .”

I hiss under my breath as I stare at the headline—and the compromising picture accompanying it—splashed in vivid color across the front page of the gossip rag displayed prominently in the checkout line at my supermarket. For the second time in two months, it’s a picture of my “boyfriend” locked in an unmistakably passionate embrace with another woman, except this time she’s wearing a giant black strap-on.

The edges of the paper crumple in my sweaty grip, and I fight the urge to tear it to shreds, along with every copy sitting on the rack in front of me.

He’s going to destroy my career before it even has a chance to become a reality.

One year, they said. One year in this joke of a “relationship” and I’d earn my stripes, be all set in the world of country music. Judge me all you want for agreeing, but when your brand-new record label puts something like that in the contract that will jet you out of the backwoods town you’re dying to escape, you don’t ask questions. You sign on the dotted line.

But reality is a cold slap in the face, and some days it hits you when you’re standing in line at the grocery store. What happens when they finally catch JC with a guy? His habit of swinging both ways, but preferring men to women, is about to become the worst-kept secret in Nashville.

I’m Selena Wix, winner of a make-me-a-star TV show, and handpicked by the label to buoy JC’s once-impressive but now flagging career. It didn’t seem like a big deal when they slipped it into my contract in the beginning. What starry-eyed girl wouldn’t be thrilled to have her name linked to a country star?

Instead of the one-way ticket to stardom I naively expected, I’m becoming the butt of every industry joke faster than the guys back home can spend their paycheck on twelve-packs and scratch-offs. But I’ve got one shot at keeping this dream career alive, and honestly, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to save it. So this situation with JC needs to get settled before things spiral further out of control.

Tugging the bill of my trucker hat lower, I glance around to see if anyone has noticed me flipping out in the checkout line. A woman behind me clucks her tongue as she pulls her sunglasses out of her baby’s mouth.

Crap.

That cluck of her tongue was aimed at me, not the toothless, blue-eyed, smiling baby. Surprisingly, though, the expression on her face is sympathetic, not angry.

“Men are assholes, am I right? Being famous just makes them bigger ones.”

I smile weakly, and she continues. “Don’t believe everything you read in the papers, doll. They’re always ninety-five percent bullshit. Probably Photoshopped. He should have his head examined if he’s cheating on you.”

Snapping my gaze back to her, I read recognition all over her face, despite my hat, glasses, complete lack of makeup, and relatively low level of fame. I force a smile onto my face, but it feels awkward and fake.

“It’s called a gossip rag for a reason, I guess?” I reply, failing at my attempt to inject some humor into my tone.

She nods and gestures to the half dozen bottles of wine in her cart. “This probably sounds crazy forward, but you look like you could use a drink and someone to vent to.”

Vent to a perfect stranger I met in the grocery store? That would be insane, not to mention dangerous. If I did, the “she said” side of the story would be splashed all over tomorrow’s papers, and the label would kill me—the painful death of breach of contract and being blackballed in the industry.

I already used up strike one the first time a picture of JC hit the papers. I marched right into Homegrown Records’ offices and told them their devil’s deal wasn’t worth it, and that I wouldn’t help JC’s career at the expense of my own.

Their response? If I didn’t turn around, march my ass right back out of the office, and paste a smile on my face, they’d yank me off my tour, and I’d be a has-been before I ever got the chance to become a someone.

I’d go to bat for my career any day of the week, but faced with the threat of losing it, I’m ashamed to say I backed down and toed the company line. You only get one shot at your dream. It’s not something I’m willing to let go . . . regardless of how much of my pride I might have to swallow. Which brings me back to the gossip rag and the woman in front of me.

An awkward silence stretches between us in the checkout line as all the scenarios swirl through my brain of how I can reply to her. Finally, she smiles, and there’s something kind and knowing in her expression.

“I know what you’re thinking—you can’t spill your side of the story to anyone. Too risky.” She lifts her hand and flashes a giant rock on her left ring finger. “But I’m not just anyone. I’ve been on the front page of the tabloids too, and I know exactly how much it sucks. After being married for a decade to the biggest reformed horndog of them all, I’m no stranger to any of it. On top of that, I’d never break the vows of sisterhood.”

My gaze darts from the giant diamond to her face. Studying her makeup-free features, it finally hits me. “You’re Tana Vines.”

Tana Vines was the Female Country Artist of the Year about ten years back, and her husband was awarded Entertainer of the Year at least four or five times during that time. They’re country music legends. A true power couple.

She holds out her hand and I shake it, operating purely on instinct.

“Yes, I am,” she says. “It’s nice to meet you, Selena Wix.”

Two bottles of wine later, Tana and I lay sprawled on chaise lounges beside her indoor pool. Behind the gated walls, and in the presence of someone I listened to on the radio in junior high, I finally have a chance to unburden all the crap that has been filling my head for months.

“Six more months? That’s a hell of a long time to put up with JC’s bullshit. Not to mention keeping your own legs closed. Good Lord, girl. Aren’t you dying to get some dick?” Tana asked.

An embarrassed laugh escapes my lips. “Um, I’ve been pretty preoccupied with learning the ropes, I guess.”

“Well, shit. I’d be dying for dick.”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize my position with the label. I have a feeling that if my picture ended up in the paper the way JC’s has, the double standards would have me out on my butt so fast, I couldn’t even yell ‘Bingo!’ first.”

Tana rolls onto her side and faces me. “That’s probably the truth, but it don’t make it fair. The only reason they’re covering his ass is the shelf of awards he’s got from five years ago, and all the money they’ve got invested in him. You’re the perfect image booster. But you’re right—you’re expendable if you step out of line.”

I already looked up to Tana as a country idol, but now I have to say I have a bit of a girl crush. She doesn’t sugarcoat anything, and it’s refreshing in this world of people who say one thing and mean something completely different.

“Who’s expendable?”

A deep voice echoes through the pool room as Mick Vines walks in. The man—a living country legend—picks up one of the empty bottles on the table between our lounge chairs. “And damn, Tana. I’ve been lookin’ for you for a half hour.”

“Gemma knew where I was.” Gemma, I learned, was Tana and Mick’s live-in nanny.

Tana sits up as Mick sets the bottle down and leans over to press a kiss to her lips.

“There. Been lookin’ for that. My little bit a sugar.”

I turn my head away as Tana wraps her hand around the back of his neck and pulls him in for another kiss, this one not nearly so innocent. She doesn’t seem to care that I’m intruding on their intimate moment. And it’s a moment that makes me wish even more that I wasn’t trapped in this mess.

Not that I’m looking for what they have—because I’m truly not. I’m not looking for that kind of happily-ever-after for a good five or ten years. I’m too young for that, and my focus is on my career, exactly where it’s supposed to be when you’re standing on the edge of achieving the dream you’ve had since you were ten years old.

But even on that edge, I’m still only a puppet with the label pulling the strings. Six months in, and I’m already sick and tired of being yanked in the directions they want me to go. What could I accomplish if only I could cut those tethers and come into my own? But slicing those ties would mean sacrificing what I’ve already accomplished, and that’s not an option.

Mick stands tall again and notices me for the first time. “Who’s our guest, babe?”

It’s much less of a surprise that he doesn’t recognize me than it was for Tana to make the connection. Honestly, I’m still a nobody in this industry. I’m working my tail off on becoming a somebody, and I’ve got fans, but to someone at Mick Vines’s level, I’ll always be a nobody.

I smile and hold out my hand. “Selena Wix.”

His eyes narrow as he shakes my outstretched hand. “I’ve heard your name. Why have I heard your name?”

I’m stunned that there’s even a hint of recognition in him. My stomach turns in big flopping waves, and Tana jumps in, saving me from bumbling whatever explanation is about to fall from my lips.

“I picked up Selena in the checkout line while we bonded over how much it blows to see yourself on the front of a gossip rag.”

Mick’s gaze narrows further before it lights with knowledge. “Wix. You’re the hot young thing JC Hughes has on his arm these days.”

I cringe at the description, because that’s not how I want to be known. But that’s what happens when you sign a deal with the devil.

Tana slaps his thigh from her seated position. “And she’s touring with Boone Thrasher because she’s the hottest new talent to hit the stage since Carrie and Miranda.”

Her adamant statement throws me for a loop, and those nervous waves in my belly glimmer with pride.

Mick rocks back on the heels of his tooled black leather boots. “Ain’t heard her sing yet, but I’ve sure seen her picture.”

I wince, pride doused.

“And that’s the problem. The label has backed her into a corner, and they’ve made the JC situation a requirement. She can’t get out of it,” Tana explains.

Mick studies me. “Who you with, girl?”

“Homegrown. They signed me when I won Country Dreams.”

“Ah.” Mick nods twice. “Now I know where I first heard your name. And you probably signed a devil’s bargain to get your ‘million-dollar recording contract’ after you won.”

It isn’t even a question. Mick knows how the game is played.

“It was that or keep working at a bowling alley in BFE, Kentucky, and never taking my shot. At least this got me to Nashville.”

He raises a hand. “No need to get defensive. I’m not judging. We all take the route we need to take to get here, but that means living with the consequences. How long are you stuck with this JC bullshit? I’m assuming you have to suck it up and smile on his arm to help shine up his image and get some good press. Besides, we all know he’s been on the edge of casino-playing retirement for a more than a few years now.”

Dang. Mick really does know how the game is played. I guess you couldn’t be in Nashville as long as he has without learning all the pitfalls.

“Six months,” Tana offers. “And it’s not like when our managers hooked us up. JC doesn’t seem to care either way if he hurts Selena’s career.”

I swivel my head around to stare at Tana. “I didn’t know that you . . .” I glance back to Mick. “Really? Your relationship started out as a publicity stunt?”

Tana laughs. “Of course it did. Why else do you think I’d get involved with such a man-whore? I needed some street cred, and he was getting all the wrong kinds of press for sleeping with everything with tits.”

“Jesus, baby. That’s ancient history—and we kept that shit quiet for a reason.”

“I’m just saying that sometimes it actually works out fine,” Tana says.

Mick shakes his head. “Back to the point of this conversation.” Aiming his stare at me, he continues. “You could be fucked in six months if JC keeps this shit up. You’ve got sympathy on your side right now, but if you keep laying down and taking it, you’re just going to look like a fool.”

Tana slaps his thigh again. “Not helping.”

Her husband reaches down and grabs her hand. “Quit, woman, or I’ll spank your ass even harder tonight.”

Tana’s face flushes a bright red, and I decide to let the comment go without trying to figure out exactly what they’re talking about.

Mick releases her hand and grabs the magazine shoved between the wine bottles. “This the rag with the cheating dick?”

Shaking her head, Tana grabs it from his hand. “Nope, that’s the one with the hot billionaire dick I’m going to marry if you decide to leave me for some country starlet.”

I catch a glimpse of the cover. It’s a copy of Forbes, and there’s a stupidly handsome dark-haired man on the cover.

The headline reads: JUSTIN KARAS CRUSHES COMPETITION.

“What are you talking about, woman? You’d bury me out back if I so much as looked at another woman,” Mick grumbles.

Tana’s lyrical laugh echoes off the walls. “Damn right, and don’t you forget it.”

I snatch the magazine out of his hand to get a closer look.

“Whoa, girl. Calm down.”

I wave him off, the wine dulling the instincts that would otherwise have me continuing to bow and scrape in his country-music royalty presence.

“Shhh. I need to look at him.” I’m not sure why I need silence to do that, but apparently the large bottle of wine I drank says I do.

The man is gorgeous, but he looks cocky and arrogant. I flip the magazine open and page through it until I find another picture of him.

I win because losing isn’t an option.

—Justin Karas

I know I’m truly drunk when the only thought filtering through my brain is how much I’d like to be his prize when he’s winning. Where the hell did that come from? And like I’d even know what to do with a man like that. He’s so far out of my league, it’s not even funny.

I glance over at Mick and Tana, who are once again locked in a tangle of lips and limbs.

And . . . that’s my cue to leave.

I slap the magazine shut and rise on shaky legs. “I should probably get going.”

Tana pulls away from Mick and raises an eyebrow in my direction. “Honey, you ain’t driving anywhere. I’ll go make up a guest room. It’s the very least I can do since I got you shitfaced.”

“Not necessary. I should get home. I have . . . a plant that needs water. Or something.”

I squint because I can’t remember if my plant is dead or alive. I haven’t watered it in as long as I can remember. Apparently I’m thinking too hard about plants, which might be alive or dead, and not concentrating on my balance because I tip forward.

Mick catches me with an outstretched palm. “Come on, honey. We’re putting you up tonight. Won’t hear anything different.”

He turns me around and marches me toward the door that leads into the sprawling mansion. “Besides, it seems like someone needs to take you under their wing so you don’t get chewed up and spit out by this bitch of an industry. My wife isn’t exactly the type to bring home strays, so she must’ve seen something in you needing a little protection. We’re gonna make sure you have it.”

My eyes burn, and I blink back the unexpected tears. I’ve been in this town for six months, essentially friendless, and in one night I’ve apparently been adopted by two people I never thought I would ever have a chance to meet.

“G’night, Selena. I’ll see you in the morning, sweets,” Tana calls from behind me.

Apart from those blissful moments standing onstage, for the first time in months I have a genuine smile on my face, and I feel like I belong somewhere.

It doesn’t last long.

“We’ll put your ass on a bus back to Podunk if you don’t toe the line, Wix. That bowling alley you used to sing at? They won’t even let you back onstage when I’m done tearing you apart,” Morty, the jerk-off record exec, rails at me in the conference room of Homegrown Records.

It’s been two months since the night I met Tana, and JC has managed to land in the paper three more times. I can’t let this stand any longer. I’ve officially become the laughingstock of Nashville, and I can’t take any more pitying looks from the guys on my tour.

When the bus pulled into town this morning, I went directly to Tana’s house first. We’ve kept in touch, and every time I’ve been back in town on a break, she’s made time to get together. It’s the first real friendship I’ve had since Mary Jane Devo married her Marine sweetheart and moved to Hawaii almost two years ago.

I’m not the kind of girl who makes friends easily—mostly because I work as much as I can, and I never have extra money to go shopping or get a pedicure. But now when it matters, and I’m living in a new town and knee-deep in a business where I’m not sure who I can trust, Tana has been a lifesaver.

Her advice was to tell them to fuck off and take my chances. So this morning I grew a pair of lady balls and marched into the office to tell them to screw this JC nonsense because it isn’t worth it.

I just didn’t plan on JC being there too.

“What the hell do you have to complain about?” he says, leaning back in the cushy leather conference room chair. “You’re getting plenty of press. Maybe you’re still too green to realize it, but there ain’t no such thing as bad publicity.”

I want to smack the smug look off JC’s face. He’s baiting me, just waiting to see if I’ll push Morty any further and get myself thrown back on that bus to Podunk.

“Well, in this case, I think you’re wrong,” I say, holding my chin high. “Crushing my career doesn’t seem like good business.”

JC laughs. “You’re just gettin’ started, sweetheart. This is the best thing that ever happened to you. I guess I can try to be a little more discreet . . . ,” he says, glancing at Morty.

Morty nods. “Good, then we’re done here.”

Oh no. No, we are not done here.

“I don’t think so,” I say, and point at JC. “He needs a babysitter to keep it in his pants, not a pretend girlfriend. If you want to save his career, why don’t you focus on putting out more hits, not on his love life?”

“I love when you talk about me like I’m not even here, baby,” JC drawls. “Maybe I’ll write a love song for you. How’d ya like that?”

He was patronizing me. I’ve never been exactly sure what that word means, but I’m pretty sure this is it.

“Don’t call me—” I start.

“Girl, if you don’t—” Morty interrupts, most likely to threaten me some more, but Jim, his partner, jumps to his feet and presses both hands to the solid wood surface of the conference room table.

We both shut up and look his way.

“You know, I think we’re going about this all the wrong way,” Jim says, nodding and looking very much like a man with a plan.

Relief filters through me at the hope that Jim might be seeing some sense. But my hope and relief are doused just as quickly as he continues.

“I don’t think it’s less of a relationship that we need for you two, but more.”

What in the world? More?

I look at JC, but he looks puzzled too.

“Go on,” he says. “I can’t wait to hear this idea.”

I’m pretty sure I could wait the rest of my life and never hear this idea and be perfectly happy. This is probably the moment I should march out of the room and search for some time rewinding device, because I have a feeling things are about to go from bad to worse for me.

Jim looks from JC to me and then back to Morty, his eyes lighting with excitement. “JC and Selena will get engaged; it’ll be perfect. We can set it up so it’s all public.”

He pauses and rubs his hands together like a kid on Christmas morning. “New Year’s Eve. That’s it. Boone and Selena’s tour will be on break, and JC, we got you that spot on Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve. You can propose at midnight, and it’ll be fucking brilliant PR.”

As my chest tightens in horror, Jim looks at me. “The press will forget about all this bullshit in the papers because they love a good celebrity romance. JC will put out a statement about how he’s been sorting through some things, but now he has his priorities in line and he’s ready to move forward.”

No, this is not happening.

“What?”

My voice, which is capable of hitting some pretty earsplitting high notes when necessary, screeches through the conference room, and for a moment I hope I have the vocal capacity to shatter the glass door.

I don’t.

I look at JC, who has slapped his hands over his ears. “Whoa, girl. Easy on the ears.”

“You can’t agree to this!” I yell. “This is insane!”

Morty slaps the table. “Jesus fucking Christ, Wix. Calm the hell down. It’s not like you have to marry the man. Just pretend to be engaged for four months. Maybe longer, depending on how things go.”

I bite my lip until the coppery tang of blood fills my mouth. It’s the only way I can stop myself from screaming and cursing them out. And maybe, you know, murdering them. I’m from the backwoods; I know how to hide bodies.

One phrase repeats in my head: Maybe longer?

Four months. That’s what’s left of my contract. Four. Months. And then Homegrown won’t own my soul. Oh, they could still try to blackball me, but they won’t have a legal hold over me.

I can’t do this. JC will never agree, either. Right?

I walk around the table to JC and sit down next to him. “You can’t think this is a good idea. You can’t go along with this.”

JC just smiles his easy good-ole-boy smile and lays his hand over mine. “You ever worn a strap-on before, baby? Because I think we can make this work. Country music’s power couple. Fuck, maybe even a real weddin’ and everything.” His eyes rake me up and down. “You’re lookin’ a hell of a lot sexier than the last time I saw you, so why the hell not?”

Oh. My. God.

I yank my hand out from under his. “Never. No way in hell.”

0 notes

xpeachesncream · 4 years ago

Text

bands | eleven

[ series masterlist ]

summary: jeon jungkook has it all: the looks, the fame, the money, the women. being considered the sexiest man in the industry, he finds no complaints about the way his life is going nor does he find any reason to apologize for the way he approaches it. he is a force to be reckoned with - until he meets you.

pairing: stripper!reader x idol!jjk

genre: (18+) strip club/nightlife au, post grad au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 5.2k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, club scene, alcohol consumption, mentions of intoxication, mentions of dancing at the club, little bit of those insecurities coming back into play, good ol’ phone sex in the hotel room, mutual masturbation, unprotected sex, oral (m. & f. receiving), multiple orgasms, fingering, breast play, doggy style, hair pulling, slight choking, creampie

tags: @brightcolorsoffendme @min-nicoleee @eggbutnotyolk @ra-mun-e @miinoongi @jimidol @ppeachyttae @thebeebi @bluesharksandfish @kooafraid @liriaus @thisartemisnevermisses @ggukkieland @preciouschimine @sunniejinnie @cypheruby @cyb3rbab3 @masterlists101 @awhnamjoon @redhedhoseok @wooya1224 (please message me if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

"Club tonight before we go back home?" Taehyung grips onto Jungkook's shoulders as they walked out of the venue and into their cars that would take them back to the hotel.

"Club?"

"Yeah, come on. Everyone said yes so far! It's been so long since all of us have gone to the club together without it being a special occasion." Jungkook sighs. That statement was true, and he did love being able to hangout with everyone all together. However, he can't lie - he missed you. He barely had time to text or call you this entire trip like he wanted, and he all he wanted was to hear your voice and see your face until he could finally have you physically in his arms again.

"Fuck." Jungkook does a slight head tilt before letting out a small sigh. "Yeah, I'll come along." Taehyung smiles from ear to ear, squeezing his shoulder.

"I'm sure your girl won't mind if we steal you for a little tonight." Jungkook doesn't respond to Tae's statement and simply shakes his head with a small smile. To be honest, the guys were a little surprised to see that whole thing erupt between Jungkook and Bigs. They didn't think he was actually serious about you, the mysterious girl. Jimin, on the other hand, wouldn't dare say a word and simply lent a small chuckle or smile as his participation during their 'lets tease jeongguk' hours. But eventually, it all became a running joke and the boys learned to leave Jungkook alone because as they've learned before, Jungkook does what Jungkook wants.

He gets away with shit.

He cleans himself up and throws on a button up shirt with ripped black jeans and boots, fluffing his hair a bit before he steps back out and meets up with the boys.

[jungkook] 9:49pm: going out with the boys tonight

[y/n] 9:51pm: lol cheer up, have fun party pooper

[jungkook] 9:52pm: fineeeeeeee :( can i call you later?

[y/n] 9:55pm: you can always call me, i just don't know if i'll always pick up :)

[jungkook] 9:57pm: try and stay up please

[y/n] 10:01pm: maybe lol

He slightly smirks to himself. Hopefully you'd stay up, but he was starting to realize you always fell asleep early and that was okay too. He'd just have to wait to see you when he gets back tomorrow.

Once the boys have arrived at the club of choice, security escorts them to their VIP section, the club already packed from wall to wall with people screaming left and right. There's already a few bottle girls, and other girls waiting for them in the VIP from lord knows where, but Jungkook knows he's not trying to mess with any of it tonight. He truly didn't wanna be here, but to keep his boys happy, he decided to tag along and hang out.

"So many beautiful ladies." Jimin swings his arm around his torso and smirks.

"Go get 'em, champ." Jungkook chuckles.

"I would, if they all weren't eyeing you." He shakes his head.

"She's not eyeing me, she's looking at you." He nods towards a pretty, fair-skinned female with long, voluminous black hair. She's definitely eyeing Jimin, biting onto the tip of her finger as she tries to seduce him through her eyes. Her look. "Go." Jungkook slightly pushes him towards her, smiling as he stood back and watched. The rest of the boys were already enjoying themselves, either dancing around alone [aka Min Yoongi and Seokjinnie] or hopping behind girls for a dance.

"Why aren't you dancing with anyone?" Yoongi laughs. "I figured you would be the first to hop on someone."

"I don't feel like it." He takes a sip of his drink, hand dug deep into his pocket.

"You don't feel like it, or you're too busy missing your girlfriend?" Jin joked.

"I don't have a girlfriend!"

"Mhm, sure." Jin laughs. "You could at least reward yourself with a dance." Jungkook shrugs. Technically, he could. It was just a dance, and you still weren't his girlfriend even though he thought of you pretty seriously. But he knew how this would go, and it would get messy quick - especially with the way females nowadays loved to create drama and claim him. He wasn't up for it. And he didn't wanna do anything to hurt you, or disappoint you. The thought alone makes him feel terrible. You were just so pure-hearted, there was no way he could do anything to hurt your feelings.

"Aye!" Jimin comes over and grabs him by the shoulders, swinging him around to face the ladies once more. "That girl I was dancing with is here with her bestfriend."

"And?" Jungkook chuckled. Okay, so? Lol.

"Bro, come on. Just go dance with her and have fun. She's interested in you." He shakes his head, but Jimin is already pushing him over, the force behind his movements stronger than what Jungkook can endure after the day they've had. He clumsily follows along, his lips pursed in a fine line as he approaches Jimin's girl [of the night] and her bestfriend. She had dark brown hair, stood at about 5'7 and wore high waisted shorts and a bralette-type of crop top. She was really trying for some dick tonight. He gives her a small, toothless smile as she beams from ear to ear, shying behind her bestfriend. She was cute, but she was no you, no disrespect.

"This is Yeji!" Her bestfriend exclaims, damn near throwing her right onto Jungkook like her life depended on it. Jungkook places his hands out to support her but brings them back once she's found her footing again. Definitely drunk.

"Hi." She blushes.

"Hey." Jungkook smiles back, sipping on his drink. Jimin is still hanging onto his shoulder, trying his best to egg him on and Jungkook can't help but smile and nod awkwardly at him. He attempts to back away, but Jimin shoves him closer while laughing.

"Have fun!" Jimin flashes him a quick look, confused at what the fuck he was doing right now trying to turn her down like that. But, he instantly flips the switch as he accompanies her bestfriend to the dance floor again.

"Can I get you a drink or something? Water, even?" Jungkook offers to be nice. He can already hear you scolding him in his head - pinching him on the arm and saying that he needs to be nicer to people. But to be honest, he really doesn't know what the fuck to do with her.

"Water's good, I should start sobering up." She giggles as Jungkook nods and pours her a cup of water. He hands it to her and stands beside her, awkwardly eyeing the crowd in front of them. "Hey, I caught your performance today. You looked good! You all looked really good."

"Thanks." He smiles.

"Do you wanna dance for a little?"

"Uh, actually—" Jungkook suddenly feels the both of their bodies press against each other before Jimin's drunk laugh erupts right behind his ear. Jungkook backs away with his hands up, shaking his head.

"Hey come on, if he doesn't wanna dance don't force him." Yoongi says, almost in a scolding manner.

"I'm sorry, I'm just not really in the best dancing mood right now. Pretty tired." He says to Yeji before he gives her an apologetic look and walks over to his hyungs who aren't busy with girls. He's getting more and more annoyed with the way Jimin has been acting lately, but he was trying to keep his cool - careful not to start anything. He knew Jimin wasn't a fan of you with the way he talked about you that one morning before the photoshoot. He loves him, that's his brother for life. But if he wanted to get disrespectful, he didn't have a problem putting him in his place.

Throughout the night, Yeji is sticking to her friend and Jimin, still hoping she could get something started between her and Jungkook, but she doesn't succeed. Jungkook purposely keeps his distance from Jimin and the rest of the girls around them in the VIP section, perfectly content to be staying around Yoongi and Jin.

When they've finally called it a night, Jimin, Taehyung, Namjoon and Hobi are all pretty drunk out of their minds - their asses more than ready to risk it all by sneaking in their girl of choice to their hotel rooms.

"Let me know so Yeji can come too." Jungkook waves his hand to dismiss the statement.

"Nah. I'm good, really, thanks."

"What, all of a sudden you're a goody two shoes for your stripper girlfriend?" Jungkook shoots him a look but brushes it off, blaming it on the alcohol in Jimin's system right now.

"I'm just tired and gonna head to bed, that's it."

"Whatever." Jimin drunkily responds, the four of their drunk asses continuing to be loud as hell in the hallway until they all separate and go off to their own rooms.

"Don't be loud and shit, I want my sleep tonight." Yoongi says before shutting his door.

Finally, peace and quiet.

Jungkook sighs as he looks at his watch, the time nearing 1:30am. He slips out of his clothes, takes a quick shower and gets himself ready for bed before he's shutting off the lights. A hotel bed has never felt so comfortable in his life, but the only thing that was missing was you.

And to be completely honest, he was pretty fucking horny. Having all this pent up sexual frustration just from missing you these past couple of days alone, he couldn't take it. He hopes to god you're awake right now because he's been wanting to hear your voice and hearing your voice alone—

"Jungkook." You say softly on the other line, Jungkook's eyes slightly shutting from the sound of your voice.

Your voice alone was enough to turn him the fuck on.

"You're awake, babygirl."

"Barely." You chuckle. "I'm snuggled into my sheets, but you told me to wait up for you."

"And you actually waited. Thank you, cutie." He smiles to himself. "What'd you do today?"

"Just work my shift at the restaurant, then head home. I don't really do anything outside of work and hangout with Kai, you know this." You chuckle. "How was the club?"

"It was alright." He sighs.

"Did all the pretty ladies get a dance with Jeon Jungkook?"

"Ah, but you're the only pretty lady I know about." He chuckles, making you blush. "But no, I wasn't necessarily in the mood."

"But you're at a club, how could you not be?"

"Too tired. Besides, just wanted to come back here and talk to you. I feel like I haven't gotten to talk to you as much since we've been here."

"It's okay, you need to do what you need to do."

"I can't wait to see you when I get back."

"I can't either."

"You and your pretty face."

"What is up with you? Are you drunk?" You softly laugh.

"No, not really. Why, I can't miss you?"

"Never said that, Jungkook. I miss you, too." You giggled, giving him some affection since it's been a couple of days and you actually missed his presence too.

"Yeah? How much do you miss me, baby?" Your eyes slightly widen cause you can most definitely pick up on his tone, plus the 'baby' pet name made your pussy hop a little. He wanted you, and he knew just the right ways to get to you worked up already.

"A lot."

"Mmm." He hums breathily, causing you to bite your bottom lip. "Are you gonna show me just how much you missed me when I get back?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe, what?" He chuckles deeply. "Tell me, babygirl." He begins to slowly palm himself through his boxers. "How do you want me to show you?" You shut your eyes, the heat quickly building in your core.

"Jungkook." You let out a breathy moan. "What are you trying to do right now?"

"God, I just wanna feel you." He says, completely passing up your question. "I just wanna feel you all around me. Would you like that, my pretty lady? Me all up inside you?" At this point, Jungkook is hard as hell, whipping his hardened member free from its confines. He lets out a breath at how free he feels, finally able to stroke himself nice and slow. He toys with the pre-cum pooling at his tip, using it as some kind of lubricant as he strokes himself up and down, gripping a little tighter towards the base.

"Yes." Your hand slips through your shorts and your panties, gently rubbing at your clit as you listen to Jungkook's deep voice on the other line. You slip your hand a little further down, feeling how wet you already are. You silently whimper to yourself, spreading your wetness in and around your folds, picturing Jungkook doing the work for you.

"Don't be shy, baby. Tell me what you want. Use your words."

"I want you inside of me."

"Inside where?"

"My pussy." He softly groans into the phone, his grip getting tighter by the minute as he fucks himself into his hand.

"Are you touching yourself right now?"

"Yes."

"That's my good girl." He moans with you. "Just wanna fuck you so badly. Show you how special you are to me."

"Jungkook." You whine, as you slip in a finger and quickly fuck yourself with it, the sounds of your wetness echoing in your tiny space. "Fuck I'm so wet for you."

"That's it." He hisses. "Fuck yourself for me until I get back. Can't wait to taste you and fill you up."

"Want you so bad, want you to fuck me so good until I cry." You say, not even realizing the shit you're saying right now as you rub your clit and work your hips in tandem. You begin to whimper a little louder, ready to hurdle off the edge with the pressure you're applying.

"Yeah?" His mouth is agape, barely any noises being released due to the overwhelming sensation that's taking over his body. "Want me to fucking ruin you, baby? Are you ready for that?"

"Always." You moan. "Ahh—Kook, I'm gonna cum."

"Cum all around this dick, sweetheart. It's yours." The words are enough to unravel you, sending you spiraling out of control with the pleasure taking all over your body - inch by inch.

"Oh fuck, Jungkook! Ughhhhhhfffffuck." You groan into the phone as you continue to move your hips into your hand, fingers pressed tightly against your clit.

"Shiiiiiiiit." Jungkook moans as his hips are moving quicker and sloppier, the image of him ramming his cock into you from behind while choking you has him toppling him over the edge. "Mmmmmgod, babygirl."

"The fuck, Jungkook." He chuckles as he regulates his breathing.

"Just miss you, that's all." You hear him stirring in the back, probably cleaning himself up just as you are with yourself. "Stay on the phone with me?" When he does have the time to call you while he's been away, he's always asked for you to stay on the line - facetime or regular call - just so it seems like you're next to him. What you did to deserve this soft Jeon Jungkook, you had no idea. But you were gonna take it and run as far as you could, because fuck. You liked-liked him.

"Okay." You yawn.

"I can still take you out on a date, right?" He yawns shortly after, the domino effect hitting him.

"Of course." You softly chuckle, your eyes getting heavy from all the energy you just spent.

"Okay. I just wanna make sure cause I'm already planning this."

"Planning, huh?"

"Gotta put in the effort." Silence. "Night sweetheart, sleep tight."

"Night." You barely manage to say before you're off into a deep sleep.

You knew Jungkook would be back today, but you weren't sure what time. From the sounds of it, it seemed like it would be really late and you'd have to wait until tomorrow to see him. Which, bums you the fuck out. You just longed for his company and to be in his arms again because it's the safest you've felt in such a long time.

Oh, well.

At least it gave you some time to plan out Kai's birthday gift and celebration cause you still had no fucking idea. He was going to spend majority of the day with his friends at their favorite arcade, but you promised him dinner.

Were you really just going to take him to get Loco Moco from the hawaiian mom and pop shop down the street for his 18th birthday?

What the fuck were you even gonna give him?

You figured you could go shopping for some clothes? Or, check out what new games came out for the playstation that he might be interested in playing. Orrrrr find some comic books and give him--

Knock, knock, knock.

You checked your clock, startled at the heavy knocks coming from your door. It was barely after dinner, the sun still up but preparing to make its way down below the horizon. You had no idea why you suddenly felt nervous and scared, afraid of who you'd see through the peephole. Bigs popped into your head, the goosebumps hitting the surface of your skin. You really hoped it wasn't him trying to cause trouble - or anyone else related for that matter.

You slowly stood up, holding your arms closely against your chest. You tippytoed to check your peephole but it was pitch black, as if someone had been covering it with their finger. Was Kai playing games with you? Did he suddenly get dropped off or take the bus? You didn't have plans with him.

You slowly open a crack, seeing a smiley Jungkook waving at you from behind the door. You swing the door open and latch onto him like a koala, causing him to drop his duffle bag and wrap his arms around you tightly.

"Jungkook, what the fuck! You scared me!" You say into his neck, taking in his scent.

"Why?" He laughs as he gently helps you down and follows you into your apartment.

"It seemed like you weren't gonna be home till late."

"Seemed." He smirked.

"Hey!" You gently push him after you close your door. "How'd you know my door code and which apart—"

"Kai." You both say in unison.

"Ugh, I'm gonna kill him." You whine.

"It's his birthday soon, though. Let him turn 18."

"Ugh, I'm gonna kill him after his birthday." You repeat as you plop back onto your bed, Jungkook dropping his duffle and plopping next to you.

"Cozy place." He says, face down onto your mattress, causing you to run your hand through his fluffy hair.

"It's teeny tiny."

"No, it's perfect. Perfectly sized and cozy." He reassures you as he finally lays on his side to face you.

"Did you just hop off the plane?"

"Sure did."

"Did you eat anything?"

"Yeah, I ate something small on the plane. I'm not that hungry."

"You sure?" You asked, genuinely concerned.

"Mhm." He throws an arm lazily across your legs as he closes his eyes for a quick minute. You continue to run your hand through his hair, a notification on his screen catching your attention.

[unknown number] 6:37pm: hi! this is yeji from the club. :) i hope you don't mind, jimin passed on your number and said we should get into contact.

First of all - Why the fuck does Jungkook have his notifications set so that you can see what the goddamn message is on the lock screen?!

Second - Yeji?

Third - Of course Jimin would have slipped her his number. He hates you for whatever fucking reason.

Another text came in from her but you pulled your eyes away from his phone. This wasn't your business. But let's be real, your heart sank a little knowing he might have been acting up at the club, dancing with hella other girls and getting hella other numbers. It kind of made your insecurities resurface all over again. You weren't his girlfriend though, none of this was exclusive. So, did you really have a right to feel this way?

You brush it off quickly, trying to remind yourself who the hell you were before Jungkook came around [but god, was he making you a softy]. He wasn't exactly yours to claim; however, you were the one he came home to. Technically. Calling you all hot and bothered cause he missed you.

Yes bitch, please.

You're pulled out of your internal battle when Jungkook stirs a little to check his phone, your hand still lightly weaving through his hair as you press your lips together. He reads the notifications, deletes it from the screen and locks his phone again.

"The boys bothering you?" You decide to ask in a way that doesn't yell 'yes I saw her pop up on your phone, sir.'

"Nah. No one important really."

"Oh okay." Bummer. You lowkey expected him to be honest with you, but was that too soon for you? You just through this in your head - this wasn't exclusive.

"Lay with me, pretty lady. Let's watch something."

"You mean finish Gone Girl?" You quickly flip the switch and smirk at him, making him laugh.

"Oh shit, that's right. Not my fault you straddled me." You slightly gasp.

"Not my fault you fucking batted your eyelashes at me, talking about ‘can I tell you something?'" He scrunched his nose and tickled your sides, causing you to yelp and crash your body back down onto the bed. He continues to tickle you until you're begging for him to stop - his body over yours, but he was careful not to put all his weight on you. "Ouch, Jungkook!" You whine.

"You finished making fun of me?"

"You started it!"

"You're so fucking cute, you know that?" He lowers himself down to your lips, pressing them gently against yours. Your hands get tangled within his hair again, pressing him down slightly onto you so you could feel him, feel his warmth. The kiss deepens quick as Jungkook settles himself in between your legs, your tongues at war with each other. He groans into the kiss, his soft, large hands roaming up your shirt and sending sparks throughout your body. "I missed you." He bites your bottom lip and sucks it gently before pulling back. He helps remove the shirt over your head before unhooking your bra in a swift motion and tossing it off to the side.

"I missed you too." You say at a whisper as he grabs both of your breasts and plants kisses along the surface before swirling his tongue around your sensitive, perked buds. He hooks onto your shorts and panties quick, aggressively tugging them down and off.

"So fucking perfect for me." He says, planting kisses along your sides

"I hate it when you do that." You hiss as he begins part your legs wider, pushing your thighs out as he lowers his lips onto your folds. You truly did hate it - you couldn't stand it only because that shit drove you crazy. Someone like Jungkook calling you perfect, god please.

"Hate what, babygirl?"

"Call me perfect like that." You let out a small whimper when you feel his wet tongue glide against your folds, slowly poking in and out of them as he stares at you from between your thighs.

"But you are. Want me to show you?"

"Hmmmm." You whine. "Quit." He slightly chuckles against your pussy, but continues going to work - slipping in two digits and curving them just to tickle you in the right spots. "Ahhhh, Kook please."

"Mhm." He says, picking up the pace with his fingers, allowing your wetness to glaze them. He suddenly removes them from you short after, a small whine leaving your lips at the loss of contact.

"Ohshiiiiiit. You're gonna make me cum." Jungkook begins to run his tongue up and down your pussy once more, his tongue penetrating your entrance ever so slightly before swiping it up to your clit to suck on it. He motorboats into your pussy, his head moving right and left in such a quick pace that you're tugging on his hair and jutting your hips into his mouth. His tongue starts to pet your clit with its tip - the repeated movements enough for you to reach your climax, your thighs almost keeping Jungkook in between until you could bring yourself back down from your high. "Aghhhhohhhmygod!" Jungkook smirks as he sits up, sticking his two fingers into his mouth before releasing himself from his sweats and boxers.

"Fuck, you taste so good." He slightly groans. Your breathing hitches seeing his hardened member, making you drool at the sight. You already feel dizzy imagining him filling you up with that thing, but you knew you wanted take care of him first - make him feel good, make him feel special. Take him, every inch. You crawl over and take his cock into your hands, spitting onto it before you slowly stroke him up and down. "Ohhhhhbabygirl." His words mesh together as he tilts his head back. You lower your lips onto his tip, tasting every single drop of pre-cum pooling at the area before running your tongue down his shaft and taking him. You get about halfway before you swirl your tongue around suck, pulling back with a slight pop. You stroke towards the base as your mouth is doing work on the other half of his cock. Jungkook has his hand in your hair, and you can feel his grip tightening as he slowly moves your head up and down along his cock. "Can you take me? All of me?" You nod. "Yeah? Fucking take it then." He spits out as he lowers you all the way down, keeping his tip against your throat until he feels you gag. "Oh, fuck!"

"Fuck!" You say, tears brimming your eyes, ready to stream your cheeks as you watch the trail of saliva from his tip to your mouth fall.

"You're doing so fucking good." He says as he watches you while guiding you down length, bobbing your head a little rougher and more aggressively this time around. Your saliva is damn near dripping out of your mouth, the entire scene getting sloppier by the minute, but you honestly didn't care. You were so turned on that all you wanted after this was for Jungkook to fuck you crazy hard, until you couldn't take it anymore. You were so fucking attracted to this man. "One more for me, baby." He moans, lowering you down his entire length again, his tip tickling your throat a lot longer than the first time that your tears are actually coming down this time around. You cough when he finally pulls you back, more saliva trailing from the tip to your mouth. "See, so perfect for me. Taking me in so well like your mouth was fucking made for me." He grabs your chin, placing a kiss against your lips before gently pushing you back down onto the bed. "Turn around and get on your knees, sweetheart."

"I want you so bad." You whine, his hand trailing down your back as he positions your ass up and gets your face as close to the mattress as possible.

"Don't you worry, princess. I'll take good care of you." He lines himself up, his dick incredibly wet from you sucking him like your life depended on it. He slides in with ease, the both of you moaning loudly at the feeling - the feeling of warmth, and feeling so fucking full, Jungkook is sure he can feel his tip ready to rearrange your guts in this position. He begins slow, one hand on a hip, while the other is in your hair, making sure your face is deep into the mattress.

"Faster, please!" You plead, Jungkook wasting no time to hammer his cock into your pussy. The sounds are incredibly loud and lewd, and you knew your walls were thin as hell. You were sure your neighbors were definitely having the time of their life listening to you getting destroyed. You cry as he groans, his hands now gripping your hair and tugging you back so that he can slightly see your face with the way he tilts it back.

"Ughhhh, shit babygirl. You feel so good, always so tight for me." He moans as he lets out a couple of breaths from pumping in and out of you so quickly. "Ready for me to make you cry again? That's what you wanted, right?"

"Yes." You say, but he tugs your hair tighter.

"I can't hear you."

"Yeeeees!" You whine. "Yes, fuck, please!"

"Say my name."

"Jungkooook." You moan. "Jungkoook, hmmmmmpfh." Your ass almost feels numb from how hard Jungkook is fucking you right now, but it all leads to the pleasure building up inside of you - pooling right at your core. You were sure you could reach your climax again any moment now, but you were trying your hardest to hold on for as long as you could, enjoying every moment of the pleasure he was bringing you. You didn't want this to be over, even though you could go rounds with him if he wanted to. His hand travels from your hair, down to your neck, gripping just right to choke you and keep your head tilted at an angle. Your yes's are becoming inaudible, moans getting lost in your throat that is feeling constricted from his grip.

"I'm gonna cum, sweetheart. Cum with me." Jungkook says as he thrusts harder, the overwhelming sensation enough to send you into the next dimension. The orgasm ripples through your body, your hand gripping onto his wrist as you tremble and look for support.

"FuckkkkknnnnngJungkook!" You manage to yell. He moans loudly as you feel his cock twitch inside of you, spurts of his cum coating your walls warmly and thickly. He gives you two good slow thrusts before he's slowly pulling out and letting his tip stick the cum back inside of you. "Ahhh, please. Kook." You whimper as you fall onto your bed, tears staining your cheeks once more. He smiles as he picks up his boxers and throws them on, tossing you your panties and his shirt to wear. You slip into them without question, Jungkook coming back onto the bed to lay next to you and caress your body to soothe you.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." You sniff, the aftermath of all the tears you've shed from tonight's fuck session catching up to you.

"Babygirl." He chuckles as he wipes your cheeks and plants a kiss on it. "You need to be careful of what you ask for."

"Shut the hell up and pull up the movie, Jungkook." He laughs, watching you shove your laptop over to him. He pulls up the movie on his Amazon Prime account and snuggles with you under your sheets.

"Sooo, ready for our date?"

"Should I be preparing?" He shrugs.

"Just want you to have a good night with me." His hands are still caressing your sides under his shirt, light kisses being pressed against the nape of your neck. The warmth, and the feeling of his body pressed against yours makes you feel content. Satisfied. Peaceful.

You felt safe. You felt wanted.

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baby we can take it slow, say my name, don't let go, I can hear your body when i pull your hair, what's my name; girl I swear, I can hear your body babe

track ten: body - syd

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