#or if you should just forgo talking to her about it and just ask someone else for advice

[butterflies-and-bumble-bees]

...

[luveline]

Girl pls pls write stripper reader and Spencer where she thinks he would never date her bc she’s a stripper and just a sprinkle of angst with lots of comforting fluff and Spencer reassuring

thank u for requesting! ♡ fem, 1.5k

cw mentioned past domestic/workplace abuse, unhealthy eating habits

Someone broke into my apartment. 9:14AM

Spencer reads the message under the table but forgoes discretion when he registers what it says and who it's from. He excuses himself from the round table, something he isn't even sure he's allowed to do, and hurries out onto the landing. 

You answer on the second dial. "Hey, did you see my text?" you ask. 

"Are you okay?" He squeezes his phone. 

"I'm not sure. I'm fine, but my lock is busted and the door won't stay shut." 

"Where are you?" 

If you're surprised that he's steamrolling, you don't show it. Spencer leaves work to meet you at the coffee shop you've chosen for refuge, your eyes tired, a small bag of your most important possessions hanging on a slumped shoulder. He hugs you straight away. 

"I'm fine," you say into his neck. 

He hugs you tighter. "That's good," he says, feeling useless, fingers stroking little paths into your shoulders. He pictured the worst from your text, and seeing you in person is the only true mitigator. You'll talk down bruises and black eyes —you have in the past. 

He pulls the story from you as you walk back to his apartment, shoulder to shoulder in the cold street. "It was open when I got home, the door, but I did what you asked me to." 

"You didn't go in?" he confirms proudly. 

"Not at first." 

"You really won't call the police?" 

"I texted you." 

Spencer takes the strap of your bag from you and throws it over his own. "I'm not that kind of cop. I'm not really a cop at all." 

"No, you're a fed, which is worse. The girls at work told me to stay away from you." You wipe under your eyes sluggishly. Sleep clings to you like a shadow trailing behind you, ever-present. 

He puts his hand behind your back, worried you'll fall up the steps to his apartment building. "They think I'll what, extort you?" 

You shake your head, something sad in the slow side to side. "Girls like me have no business around guys like you." 

"You probably get too much business from guys like me." 

You laugh, but you both know it's not what you meant. Spencers noticed it more and more lately, nothing so obvious until now, this dead set belief you hold that he's one type of person and you're another. He gets that your work isn't what you wanted for yourself when you were growing up. He knows it isn't easy, even on your 'good' nights. It takes a toll to be seen as you are, nothing left private. But you've always said you liked stripping as much as anyone should like their job. "It's a job," you'd said, having barely known him, tired and hungry, curled up on his couch with nowhere else to go. "Only the luckiest get to really enjoy work. S'why it's called work." 

He'd hoped, perhaps in a self-absorbed way, that  having more support might make you feel better about yourself; he wanted his friendship to give you some confidence, basically. Before you met Spencer there was no one else you could depend on. It's why you stayed working for a man who broke your wrist until Spencer weaselled his way into your life and made you a bed in his living room for the time it took to get you out. His credentials helped, of course, but you survived it because you're resilient. You're awesome. You've done everything you can with what you have and you don't think it's enough. 

You and Spencer take the elevator to his floor, and for the twenty seconds it takes to get there, you let your cheek rest on his shoulder. He's just about to drop his head on top of yours when the doors open, and the slice of quiet you'd both savoured slips like sand between his fingers. 

"I can go back and get some of your stuff," he offers, guiding you the short walk to his door. He passes you the key rather than struggle with the lock himself. 

Your hand shakes as you push down the handle. "There's nothing worth going back for." 

"Don't say that, you have all your clothes there, your couch. You have things. I'll take my car." 

"You hate driving." 

"I'd hate someone robbing you even more." 

"Robbing me again," you correct, holding the door for him. 

You didn't have anything worth the trouble, it seems. You keep your savings in a locked box hidden in the bathroom that they couldn't find, and though your apartment is clean and bigger than the one you lived in before Spencer met you, it's mostly empty. You don't have a TV, you're not a collector. They took the radio off of the refrigerator, your microwave oven, and a box of cosmetic jewellery worth chapel change. 

"But it's your stuff. You deserve to have stuff." Spencer drops your bag gently and his with less care by the door. 

"It's only until the locksmith can come tomorrow," you say with a yawn. "Let the junkies lavish in my stuff for the next twenty hours." 

"That's not a problem for you?" 

"I don't have the luxury of that being a problem for me, Spence. What am I supposed to do? The locksmith can't come–" 

"There are a hundred locksmiths." 

"Not that I can afford." You shrug out of your jacket. "Spence, listen to me. It's okay. I can't ask you to do that, anyways. You've done more than enough for me already," you say, sitting on the couch. You perch for a moment like you're trying to be polite until fatigue overtakes you, and you sink into the cushions with a relieved sigh. 

Spencer crosses the space between you and kneels by your feet to untie your shoelaces. 

"Don't do that," you mumble, hand over your mouth as a second yawn in as many minutes catches you. 

"Why not?" He slips your shoes off, letting his hand rest on your ankle. "Wanna watch that weird cooking show–" 

"Why aren't you at work?" 

He climbs onto the couch next to you, unafraid to sit shoulder to shoulder. "You were having an emergency." 

You rub your face with both hand. "I knew I shouldn't have called you. You can't just leave work because of me, Spencer, what if you get in trouble?" 

"Someone I care about needed my help, and Hotch understands that." Spencer puts on his big boy pants with a wince. "Do you get that?" 

"I don't really… I don't…" You falter. "We're never going to work. You'll never…" 

"I'll never what?" he asks insistently, voice lilting up with a little incredulity. He can't help it.

You refuse to answer, turning your face from his. 

Spencer knows what you're going to say. He's bad with girls but he's good at recognising human emotion; he sees the same insecurity in himself as he does in you. He knows the feeling. 

You're not right, is the thing. 

Spencer would kiss you if he thought that would change your mind. But tired as you are, angry with yourself, defeated, he knows it's not a good idea. He takes your hand instead, sewing your fingers together with a deliberate slowness. He brings his other hand to them and strokes the back of your index finger with his thumb, careful not to disrupt your press on nails. He knows they have a tendency to come off with too much pressure, and you're always losing your glue. 

"If they really need me to go, they'll call me. But I'm staying here." His thumb moves down to your knuckle. You have little calluses and cuts and bruises everywhere from dancing. He's seen the contusions that line your thighs on a semi permanent basis. "When was the last time you had something to eat?"

"Spencer," you murmur. 

"Let me take care of you, please," he says, hand curling around your wrist with extreme gentleness. "You need to eat. You need to sleep. Let me worry about everything else for once, I want to." 

You still don't look at him, but you sink down an inch at a time until your cheek is on his shoulder again, like it had been in the elevator. Hesitant, you wrap your arm around his stomach. 

"I'm so stupid," you say. 

He wonders if that's a placeholder for what you really want to say. You think so little of yourself sometimes, but it's like you've told him before. Not everyone has the luxury of enjoying their job. 

"You're amazing." Spencer feels like he's on fire everywhere that your skin touches him. Is he saying the right things? "You are. You're the only person who doesn't see that." 

"The only person here, maybe." 

"You should always be here, then. With me. That way I can remind you." 

You sound more like yourself when you answer, though tiredness lines every word, "Thank you, Spencer. I don't deserve you." 

"Yes, you do."

Spencer rubs your hand until you fall asleep, and then he buys you a new toaster oven on his phone, and an industrial security lock. He doesn't know what it'll take to convince you that you deserve him, you deserve better, but he's gonna try. 

He presses his cheek to your temple and focuses on the softness of your skin where it touches his.  

[hughes86-43]

love confessions | N.Hischier

part 2 to this blurb!

note- tbh, I’m not good with angsty writing, so this probably didn’t turn out that good. I still hope you enjoy it!

warnings- not that I know of, but plz let me know if there are some!

Truthfully, you had no idea what day it was or what time it was. Everything had been blur since you left Nico’s house in Switzerland and flew right back to New Jersey, needing to leave before everything got much worse. Although, how much worse could it get when you showed up unannounced at your one-true loves house, told him how you felt, had no clue how he felt, and then his blonde hook up came down the steps. So yeah everything was a blur, and you had no intentions at the moment to fix it.

Currently, you’re laying in your bed, covered up in blankets, wearing the same pajamas that you threw on when you got home two days ago, and your hair up in a top knot. You had no one to see, so you didn’t put much thought into your appearance, that is until you hear a knock on the front door.

Rising up from the bed, you try to think who it could be, since your friend was at work it couldn’t have been her. You adjust a robe around your frame and try to settle down the crazy pieces of your hair. You also try to make your under eyes a bit more better since you had been staring at your phone for the whole day, but you knew there was no use.

Once again, the person at the door knocks again. You look into the peephole and see the one person who you never thought you would see again. Nico. You sigh and yell through the door, “Go away! I’m not home!”

He knocks again, “Y/N! Stop being an ass and open the door! We both know your home!”

You walk over and pull the door open, fed up with him, you reply, “Who do you get to tell to stop being an ass? Clearly, you should be telling yourself that!”

He winces, he expected that he thought. “Can we not do this in the doorway? I just want to talk and explain.” You sigh, contemplating. “Please, just hear me out and then you can decide if you want me to leave, and I’ll leave.”

Deciding to forgo an actual answer, you just turn from the doorway and walk deeper into the apartment, hoping he would get the hint to come on in. He does, and he shuts the door and kicks off his shoes.

You grab a water from the fridge, not bothering to ask him if he wants one. You point to the couch for him to sit while you choose to continue standing. “Well, go ahead,” you tell him as he hasn’t talked in about two minutes.

“Okay, one, I’m sorry about how I acted when you arrived at my doorstep. I was honestly just shocked and hadn’t expected you to show up.”

“Or hadn’t expected someone to interrupt your little hookup?” You let out a dry laugh.

“Stop, we’re not at that part yet.” Nico says as he fiddles with the couch cushion.

“Oh, then what part are we at then?” You ask, standing with your hands on your hips waiting for an answer. Although you’re still in your pajamas and robe, you honestly didn’t care.

He sighs and looks back up at you, “We’re at the part where I tell you that you’ve always been the one, and I just hadn’t realized it.”

You widen your eyes at his words, letting out another dry laugh, “Oh, really? How’d you come to that conclusion? Was the blonde not good enough for you, so you had to come running to me?”

“Listen to me, will you?” Nico says, standing up from his spot on the couch. “The blonde girl was one of my friends, she’s with one of my guy friends, and she was there because she waiting on him to get back. She heard most of the conversation and came downstairs, not expecting to see you there. So honestly, I’ve never hooked up with her, and I had no girl with me when you showed up.”

You wince a bit, “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’.” Nico stands awkwardly there, trying to gauge how the rest of this conversation will go.

You run your fingers over your cheek, and walk to the chair by the couch to sit down. Leaning back into it, you ask, “Then, why did you let me leave? Why didn’t you even say anything?”

“Honestly, I was shocked you showed up at my door. I wasn’t expecting it, and I certainly wasn’t expecting you to tell me how you liked me.” He flops back down on the couch. “I know I should’ve stopped you, and I truly did feel bad, but I still let you go. I’m sorry, and if that isn’t good enough, then I’m still sorry.”

You nod, “It’s okay, honestly I shouldn’t have ran, I was just scared that I let out how I felt about you, and you didn’t feel the same way back, so I was scared that it would end whatever friendship we had.” You look down at your hands.

Nico gets up from the couch and kneels infront of you. He reached out to lift your chin up, “Hey, I know I was stupid for how I acted in that moment. However, I’m still glad that you came and told me how you felt. I’ve been wanting to tell you since forever, but I guess I thought you would realize how much better of a guy you could get than me. Someone that doesn’t have to travel all over the place, someone that would be constantly there for you.”

You move your hand to run it through his brown locks. “Nico, I could never be with a guy that is as good as you. So what you travel so much for hockey, it’s what you love to do, and I’m not going to take that from you. I love you, a lot actually.”

“You do?.” He rests his forehead on yours.

“Ha, yes! Didn’t the whole me coming to Switzerland and spilling my feelings for you, not convey that?” You laugh out.

Nico gives you a big smile, “Yeah. Yeah, it did.” He kisses your forehead.

“I guess we could’ve said this way sooner, if we just got out of our heads about it.” Nico laughs at that. He stands back up and offers a hand to help you up. You take it, and he pulls you into a hug.

Melting into his embrace, you say, “Come on, I’m tired, I haven’t slept in two days. You looked tired as well, so let’s go to my bed.”

“Lead the way, babe. I’m all yours,” he says as you drag him into your room.

[the-bau-quinjet]

Timeless

Summary: Steve breaks up with singer!reader because he doesn't want to hold her back. He starts to question everything after hearing the song she wrote for him.

Warnings: life in the Instagram era

word count: 4695

a/n: 100000% inspired by Timeless by Taylor Swift. i did not proofread this bc I am lazy so I do apologize for whatever typos there are

Masterlist

"I just don't get it," Steve overheard the young women talking while waiting in line for coffee. "She could literally be with anyone and she's gonna pick some old guy who literally fought in World War II?" He already had an idea of where this was going, but the response confirmed his fears.

"I know! Like Steve Rogers is hot but that's so weird! He's like 100 years old," she scoffed.

"A man out of time and probably out of touch," the first replied. "I bet he's totally holding her back."

Steve decided to forgo his coffee, simply turning around and leaving before things could get more awkward for him. Dating you has actually been when he's felt most at home in this century, but that doesn't mean he no longer struggles with his new present day.

Hardly a day goes by without you or someone else having to explain something to him, whether it be an insignificant reference to some tv show or more important information on how certain technology works. Suffice it to say, he feels like his age does show. It's something you've talked about in your relationship, but clearly, something Steve still struggles with.

He decided to walk back to the tower using the time to really think about what was best for you in terms of being with him. The first day the two of you met had been a particularly bad one for Steve, but somehow you managed to cheer him up. You've basically been inseparable since.

The more he thought about it, the more sure he was that those women were right. He was holding you back. You spend so much time with him, and at the tower in general, that you haven't really been living the same way you were before.

Before you met Steve, you had just finished your first world tour. You were always traveling or in and out of the studio. Now, you spend all your time in New York and you haven't had so much as a single performance outside of New York in the two and a half years you've been with him.

As he walked the last few steps up to the tower, Steve had already made his decision.

-

You were practically bouncing up and down on the couch as you waited for Steve to get home. After months of writing and recording in the home studio Tony set up for you, you could finally surprise Steve with some new songs. The one you were most excited about hadn't even been recorded yet. You were just too excited to share the lyrics to wait.

You couldn't help but reminisce as you waited, thinking about the first time you'd ever met. After your tour, all you wanted to do was go home and sleep, but Tony had personally invited you to his latest gala and your manager really pushed for you to go. Turns out, it was the best decision of your life.

The sound of the door opening down the hall broke you out of your daydream. The telltale sounds of Steve hanging up his jacket and tossing his keys in the dish by the door confirmed your suspicions.

You nearly tripped over the coffee table in your effort to greet him, but the look on his face stopped you dead in your tracks. "Steve?" you asked. "Are you okay?"

He sighed in response, one hand running through his hair as he looked at the ground. After a few seconds, he managed to meet your eye, but it did nothing to ease the nerves you were now feeling.

"Did something happen?" you asked just as he spoke up.

"We should break up."

His words felt like a physical blow in the silence that followed. You leaned back into the arm of the couch, suddenly unsure of everything.

"What?" you barely breathed out the question. The emotional whiplash was too confusing to process this quickly.

"I just, I don't think we should stay together. I wish I had more to say, but that's it." Steve cut straight to the bone, his own heart breaking. Still, he thought it was for the best.

"Oh," you barely managed to reply, still reeling from the shock. "Um, okay. I'll just... I'll just go."

You walked blindly down the hall and out the door, not even considering what you would do with all of your things that were in the apartment. You didn't even grab your purse, so you couldn't realistically leave the tower. Instead, you headed straight for the studio.

It felt like if you were recording a song about Steve, you could pretend that conversation didn't just happen. You could live in the past for just another few hours before reality finally hit you.

You still had the music pulled up in the recording booth. You'd gone so far as to take out some of the most inspiring pictures that lead to this song. There were plenty of pictures of you and Steve, but also the old black and white photos you found in the antique shop.

Thankfully Tony set things up so you could record on your own if you wanted, so that's exactly what you did.

Down the block there's an antique shop and something in my head said stop, so I walked in...

-

Instead of facing your emotions head-on, you dove into your work. You recorded every song you had left for the album, only contacting your manager and the label when things were finished.

They had a few things to tweak, but the record was ready not even two weeks later. Since you'd already been teasing the songs on tik tok, your label agreed to a surprise release. Thirteen songs would be released at the end of the week.

With the album ready and the date picked, you switched focus to scheduling performances at award shows and TV interviews. Anything to keep you from the gutwrenching reality of your emotions.

- Steve wasn't doing much better. His mood was foul and everybody could tell. Seeing as you were avoiding everyone by staying in an apartment owned by your label, the team tried cornering Steve for information.

"What the hell happened with Y/N?" Nat finally asked when Steve brushed off the slightly less invasive questions about how he was doing. He simply shook his head, glaring at an unphased Natasha.

"Have you listened to her new album?" Sam asked, trying to break the tension before all hell broke loose.

Steve tensed at the mention of your music. He had not listened to it, but the mere existence sent him into a spiral. In his eyes, it proved his point. Two and a half weeks without him and you were already releasing music. Something you hadn't done in the two and a half years you'd been together.

"Just leave me alone," he all but begged. Listening to the songs he knew- or at least strongly expected- would be about him was too much to even consider. He shook off the questions with the sheer desperation in his eyes. Everyone could tell it was hitting him hard, but not knowing why they broke up made it difficult to try and help.

-

Things continued much the same for the next month. Steve avoided all things that reminded him of you. You worked every second you could, desperate to not have to think about how everything went wrong.

In those few moments when you had actually thought about Steve, you more than anything wanted to know why. It had gotten so far as to you hovering your finger over his contact, one split second from calling when your manager phoned you instead.

"Hello," you answered, desperately trying to hide the strain from your voice.

"They want you to perform at the Grammy's," your manager, Gina, wasted no time with pleasantries.

"Oh my god," you didn't know how to feel. "That's in three days!" This album meant so much to you, but it was entirely about falling and being in love with Steve. How could you perform one of your best love songs on one of the biggest stages in music with a broken heart?

"Do they want a specific song?" Somehow your mind kept working even though your heart was breaking all over again.

"You get to choose," Gina continued to gush, but you couldn't listen. Having to choose was almost worse. You managed to tune back in for the last bit of information. "I know it's weird because you're not nominated, but nobody expected Rihanna to have to pull out. The news is her baby is the picture of health though! Since this is so last minute, they need to know what song the day after tomorrow for scheduling purposes."

"I'll do Timeless," you blurted out. Having to make the decision would be the worst part, right? So now you can just prepare and deal with it.

"You sure?" she asked, wary of it being one of the most detailed love songs on the album.

"Yep!" The enthusiasm was easy to fake. You were excited to perform at the Grammy's, and this is the song you're most proud of. It'll be fine.

"I'll let them know! Check your email for the itinerary. Bye!" she hung up in a flash, leaving you alone with your thoughts again.

Steve's contact was still pulled up on your phone. It felt like it was mocking you. Of course, Timeless would be the song you blurt out in a panic. It was the one you were most excited for him to hear. You can't imagine he's listened to the album. He might not even know it was released. A Grammy's performance was the closest to a guarantee that he'd hear it.

Now you just had to practice singing as if it wasn't going to emotionally wreck you.

-

"We've been invited to the Grammy's," Tony burst into the room with no preamble.

"Who's we?" Sam asked, already planning the suit he would wear in his mind.

"Four of us, bird brain," Tony replied swiftly. "Normally I'd be all over this, but I promised Morgan I would build her big girl bed with her tomorrow, so I'm stuck. You all have to go."

Nat, Sam, and Bucky all seemed okay with the invitation, and in Sam's case mildly excited. Steve, on the other hand, scowled at Tony. He was only about 60% sure the Grammy's were for music, but if the 60% was right he would rather go on a mission in Antarctica than potentially be in the same building as Y/N right now.

"I don't wanna hear it, Capsicle." Tony read the look on his face. "Four of us have to be there, and as our fearless leader that means you. Friday will send the details." He walked out much the same way he walked in, with a dramatic flair that left no room for questions.

"I guess we're going to the Grammy's," Nat cut a look across the room to Steve, gauging his reaction.

"So we are," he mumbled, quickly leaving the room before anyone could ask him about you.

-

Getting ready in your apartment was the only thing holding you together. Gina came over early this morning to lay out the details of your dress, hair, makeup, and any last-minute accessory decisions.

"You ready for this?" she asked, buzzing with excitement. The car would be here to pick you up any minute.

"As I'll ever be," you shakily replied. Despite making the decision quickly, you'd yet to settle the reality of performing the song in front of a crowd with how it felt to record it alone in a booth.

"Well, you can shake off those last few nerves right now. You're gonna be amazing. Remember, you're toward the end of the show. I guess you'll be a break from the nominated artists just before they announce album of the year, okay?"

You merely nodded in response, still trying to get over the nerves. You followed her down to the car, going over the lyrics in your head. Repetition was your best bet to stave off any emotional outbursts during the actual performance.

-

Steve had barely said a word all day, choosing instead to just float through the day. He wore the suit presented to him with no questions asked. He followed the schedule Friday had given him to a tee. He left no room for conversation, the glare on his face deterring any small talk.

He looked up the list of performers in an attempt to see if Y/N would be there, but she wasn't listed. The only thing causing him worry was the "surprise guest" that had been invited to replace Rihanna, who had to pull out of performing because she had a baby a few days ago. The amount of detail about other people's lives on the internet still surprised Steve sometimes, but he was glad to hear she was doing well- whoever she was.

He managed to hold it together through the red carpet, hearing whispers from the crowds that strung his and your name together. That was one of the things that drew the two of you together. It may have been a different kind of attention, but you both had faces the general public might recognize. Being the center of attention was never the goal for either of you, so your relationship remained largely private.

"Weird that he didn't walk the carpet with Y/N..." one guest whispered. Steve's enhanced hearing meant he could still pick up the voices. It was almost as if he was involuntarily listening for your name and honing in on the conversation.

"I mean, they've always been private... unless, do you think they broke up?" the responder gasped. Steve felt his heartbeat increase, being the subject of rumors and gossip never sat well with him.

"But this whole album is so happy! Maybe she-"

Steve was pulled inside before he could hear the rest. Probably for the best, he thought. Now that he knew you were here, he needed to focus on avoiding you.

Apparently, that wouldn't be hard. He and his fellow Avengers assigned seats were much further back than the musicians that were invited or nominated. He could see you from his seat, but you were far enough away to basically guarantee no forced interactions.

He merely sat in his seat, greeting people as they stopped by to say hello, and waited for the show to start. The quicker this thing was over, the quicker he would be able to go back to avoiding his feelings.

-

Walking the carpet was an absolute dream. You only wish you could've been more present. You were still incredibly nervous for your performance, and the murmurs you heard about the Avengers being in attendance did nothing to help.

You just had to choose to believe that Steve wouldn't come tonight. Unless he was so unaffected by the breakup that he could be here without it being a problem, which was a scenario you needed to put out of your head. No thoughts of break ups or Steve. At least, not until the performance.

Finding your table was easy enough once you got inside, and refusing to look around may have seemed odd, but people could easily chalk it up to nerves. Not many new about your surprise performance, but everyone knew it was your first Grammy's ceremony You were on tour when you were nominated for Best New Artist, ultimately winning the award, but missing out on the ceremony.

Other artists stopped by and chatted for a few minutes until eventually the lights dimmed and the show began.

-

Before long, a stage manager was ushering you out of your chair on a commercial break and bringing you backstage to get ready. You hadn't had much choice when it came to your carpet look- a gorgeous pink dress with plenty of tulle- but your performance look was more customizable.

You chose a dark blue set with plenty of crystals sewn onto the fabric. It looked like the night sky, and if blue is Steve's favorite color so what. This was the exact vibe you'd dreamed up when you were writing the song, so it only felt right to perform in it.

Your hair and makeup needed minimal changes, so after a few touch ups, you were being ushered toward the stage. It seemed everything backstage was happening fast enough to leave no time for nerves.

"And now, our long awaited surprise performer! She has taken the world by storm with her surprise release, I wouldn't be surprised if we saw her nominated for next year's awards. Please welcome F/N L/N performing Timeless!"

You were already seated at the piano when the curtains were drawn back. Although the song wasn't a piano ballad on the album, it felt right for this performance. You wasted no time getting started once the cheers died down.

Down the block there's an antique shop and something in my head said stop, so I walked in. On the counter was a cardboard box and the sign said "Photo's 25 cents each."

They were some very literal opening lines, and unsurprisingly the memories were flooding through you. You were out walking around the city, trying to clear your head, when you stumbled upon an antique store. The photos on the counter were the very first inspiration for lyrics to the vague idea of a song.

Black and white, saw a 30s bride and two lovers laughing on the porch of their first house. The kind of love you only find once in a lifetime. The kind you don't put down. And that's when I called you, and it's so hard to explain, but in those photos, I saw us instead.

It was so easy to envision Steve in the 30s, you couldn't help but put yourself in these photos with him. Your lives would be so different if you'd met back then, but there wasn't a doubt in your mind that you would love him just the same.

And, somehow, I know that you and I would've found each other. In another life, you still would've turned my head.

This was something you'd told Steve over and over. Every time he felt unsure of being in this time, you said "I would love you in any life, Steve. Any life. I'm just glad you found me in this one." You really had to gear up for the first chorus. It had one of the most telling, and therefore nerve wracking, lines.

-

Even if we'd met on a crowded street in 1944, and you were headed off to fight in the war. You still would've been mine. We would've been timeless.

Steve was slack jawed as he listened to your song for the first time. The way you were able to take the little memories and build such a beautiful melody out of them astounded him. His emotions were suddenly overwhelming, and there was now way for him to runaway from them this time.

I would've read your love letters every single night, and prayed to god you'd be coming home alright. And you would've been fine. We would've been timeless.

It wasn't that far off from this reality. Anytime Steve was on a mission, he'd write you letters to read while he was away. After the first time, you started writing letters for him to take with him as well. Even if the two of you couldn't talk on the phone, you had something from the other to tide you over.

'Cause I believe that we were supposed to find this. So even in a different life, you still would've been mine. We would've been timeless.

There was that line about a different life again. Steve already felt like he was living a different life, and somehow you knew exactly how to express what he was feeling while simultaneously reassuring him of your own love.

I had to smile when it caught my eye, there was one of a teenage couple in the driveway. Holdin' hands on the way to a dance and the date on the back said 1958. Which brought me back to the first time I saw you. Time stood still like something in this old shop.

Steve could still easily picture the very first second he saw your face. He wanted to be anywhere but Tony's party, having just come back from a mission that was only moderately successful. They had saved the hostages, but the Hydra agents managed to escape. He wanted nothing more than to track them down and being at the party would only delay everything.

When Tony brought you around for introductions, he found the mission had slipped entirely from his head. You somehow managed to lighten the mood without knowing why he was so grumpy, earning an uncharacteristic laugh from Steve still in Captain mode.

It was no surprise to anyone at the party when the two of you spent the rest of the evening together. Sitting at the bar, or the rare slow dance meant you could continue the never ending conversation.

Steve found himself so lost in thought, he missed most of the second verse and chorus. It wasn't until Bucky nudged him that he refocused on your words.

-

We're gonna be... I'm gonna love you when our hair is turnin' gray. We'll have a cardboard box of photos of the life we've made. And you'll say, "Oh my, we really were timeless."

You could feel the tears building through the second chorus and the bridge, but the third chorus really broke you down. You didn't understand why Steve decided it was best to break up and never getting that closure was taking its toll. You couldn't stop the few tears from falling, the notes that followed uncharacteristically wobbly.

-

We're gonna be timeless, timeless. You still would've been mine. We would've been... Even if we'd met on a crowded street in 1944. You still would've been mine. We would've been...

Steve could hear the tears in your voice easier than he could see them. His moment of weakness was haunting him as his own tears started to fall. He brushed them away quickly, forcing himself to hold it together until you were done.

Down the block there's an antique shop and something in my head said stop, so I walked in.

It was clear to him now more than ever that he was so wrong. He let his insecurities get the better of him, and messed up the single greatest thing that had come from being in this century.

With the show nearly over, he didn't think anyone would notice his absence. Instead of returning to his seat at the end of the commercial break, he slipped out a side exit. He wanted nothing more than to talk to you, but had no way of finding you.

"Steve!" He turned at the sound of a familiar voice calling his name. To his surprise, your manager was standing just a few feet away. "She left right after the song, said she's too tired for the afterparty."

Steve nodded, unsure why she was telling him.

"Here's her current address. Code to the elevator is 0704," she winked, passing him a slip of paper. Understanding dawned on him, and he wanted to scream.

"Thank you, Gina. Really," he managed to control the maelstrom of emotion, subtly slipping outside as quickly as he could. He was meant to ride home in the hired car with the rest of the Avengers, but your address wasn't too far from the Garden. He opted to walk, slowly transitioning into a run as his desperation grew. The flash of cameras followed him down the street, but with his speed he outpaced them quickly enough. He had one thing on his mind and one thing only, fixing things with you.

-

The pounding on your door scared you more than you'd care to admit. Nobody should be able to reach this floor without the code, but still. The knocking had an air of desperation that you wouldn't expect from anyone visiting right now. Gina was the logical choice, but was skipping the afterparty that big of a deal?

You had planned to double check through the peephole, but before you reached the door, the very last voice you'd have expected sounded clear through the door.

"Y/N? Gina, she gave me the code. I just, I need to apologize. I... I fucked up." He stalled, in nearly as much disbelief as you at hearing the words fall out of his mouth.

You swung the door open, gesturing for him to come in. You didn't trust yourself to speak. Hell, you barely trusted yourself to look at him. Once you both settled on the couch, you finally risked a glance.

Steve looked more distraught than you'd ever seen him, but his lack of explanation still left you reeling. He seemed to be at a loss for words himself until you looked at him.

"We really are timeless, huh?" he tried easing into things, instantly regretting his choice of words when you nearly vaulted off the couch.

"Steve, what the hell? You break up with me with no explanation and show up quoting my own lyrics to me?" your words lacked the anger you wished you could express, too raw from the performance to cover the dimensions of hurt. The tears were quick to return to your eyes as Steve slowly approached you.

He grabbed your hands in his and when you showed no signs of pulling away, tried again. "I made the biggest mistake of my life that day. Not just in not explaining, but in deciding I knew what was best for you. In thinking I was doing the right thing by giving in to my fears.

"You are single-handedly the greatest person I've ever known. And I overheard these women saying you could have anyone and do anything... I managed to convince myself that you deserved more. To pretend like breaking up with you was noble and not because I was afraid you'd come to the same conclusion as them"

"Steve," you shook your head, a few tears falling. You were at a loss for words. For the last two months, you thought he just fell out of love with you. His reasoning, although flawed, was reassuring. Still, it didn't undo the hurt he caused.

"I should've known better. And I can't undo what I've already done, but I can promise to never doubt you again. To come to you with my insecurities and listen to your voice when mine isn't strong enough. And I hope I can be that person for you in life- to reassure you when you feel lost." He took a deep breath before continuing, "I love you and if you'll have me again, I want to be timeless with you."

You could feel yourself squeezing his hands tighter and tighter as he spoke, trying to funnel the overwhelming emotions into physical exertion instead of tears.

"I love you too," you whispered, voice breaking on a fresh wave of tears. You wrapped your arms around him, letting him lead you back to the couch. You still had a lot to discuss, but right now, you just wanted him to hold you.

-

Bonus:

A few hours later, after many discussions about ignoring gossip and coming to each other with your problems, Steve finally managed to work up the nerve to voice once more question.

"Is the rest of the album about loving me, or is there a breakup song on there? Because I can handle it, but I might need some warning."

You stared at him for a beat before the question really sunk in.

"You haven't listened to any of it?" you confirmed. When he nodded, you just smirked. "While, I guess you'll find out right now then."

You knew it was 13 songs expressing different kinds of love for him, but you would let him sweat it out for the next 57 minutes.

a/n: here are the songs I envision on the album lol:

Timeless, Call It What You Want, Sweet Nothing, Daylight, New Year's Day, invisible string, Dress, False God, Paper Rings, Cornelia Street, evermore, Today Was A Fairytale, Lover

taglist:

Permanent: @averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman @strawberryspence @andrwgxrfield @jswessie187 @ellobruv @alohastitch0626

Marvel: @leyannrae @livstilinski @oceaniamaddness @justreadingficsdontmindme @ladydmalfoy @freyathehuntress

[honeyhenry]

Apple Pie and You and I: Sweet Curves and Straight Talkin'

Did someone ask for orange jam, sweet surprises and southern charm? Regardless, that's what you've got right here! A new instalment of Apple Pie and You and I shares your and Jake's last few moments on the ranch, and the wonderful little moments that come from your first pregnancy :') enjoy! part 1 / part 2

The news of the upcoming arrival of the newest Seresin travelled far and wide in Jake’s hometown, with kind old ladies delivering bouquets and muffins as soon as they heard that their sweet gentleman neighbour Jacob was due to father a baby. You only have a week left before you’re back to San Diego, and your heart is already missing the warmth of his family and the friends surrounding you. Your body will certainly miss seeing Jake in his dirty, casual clothes doing manual labour on the farm.

You've spent plenty of time in the sun, soaking in all the excitement about baby Seresin, and eating the best homemade pies a woman could ask for. Jake’s cousins would move mountains for you if you asked, while his sisters have given advice and books for you to take back home, sharing just how much of a cute tyrant young Jake was back in the day.

Even sweeter had been your nephews - baby’s older cousins - running up to you and patting your stomach, asking questions about their new friend, already excited for them to come and play. Relieved now that your tired state can go noticed, your midday naps are much less hidden and more comfortable. Jake has been all over you making sure you’re eating and taking your vitamins, tucking you into blankets, holding you close, and asking lots of questions;

“Do you feel ok? Do you need anything to drink? Eat? Did Mom ask you- in fact I’ll go ask her. Hey Momma?!”

It’s a lazy but lovely routine you’ve stumbled into, while Jake is put hard to work during the day while you eat, sleep, and enjoy the company of his family. You are well looked after and sadly have to say no to the trampolining that your nephew was begging you to try. (And when Jake finds out, he's certain to make it clear to the boy that "Your Aunt won't be on the trampoline or anything too dangerous until your little cousin is born, okay sprout?")

Typically you have eaten every meal together, Jake helping you set out your vitamins and making sure you take them with food that you can keep down to help nurture the life within you. His momma tells him he’s borderline overbearing but his Grammy has instilled the importance of looking after his family, and he’ll be damned if he lets you or her down.

“You just tell me if he puts one paw outta line, hear me?” Grammy would famously quip should she see her Grandson lounge around or poke fun at your constant need to pee. Jake is certainly on his best behaviour when she's near.

Which is why it’s even more of a surprise that Jake is gone this morning when you wake up.

Your morning stretch took up the whole bed, for once without the muffled noises Jake would whine if you’d taken up his space or moved from the comfort of his arms. Standing up to go to the bathroom, you catch a glimpse of yourself while walking past the stand-alone mirror, the frame enshrined by sports medals from his college days, and a lone cowboy hat tipped on the corner. Your eyes widen as you flatten your palm down your body and gasp.

Your little slice of heaven - as Jake so lovingly refers to them as - has finally popped out to say hello and your chest fills with a warm sensation that you register as pride. Tears gather at the corner of your eyes as you let out a sigh of joyous relief. They're really real. You know Jake is going to adore seeing the effect what he’s done to you, that you're nestling and growing the sweet baby you both spend hours talking about throughout the day, and in hushed whispers at night while the rest of the family sleep.

Stepping downstairs quickly as you can, you forgo getting dressed, only thinking about finding your husband and showing him the product of your love in the form of your sweet raised bump.

The kitchen is filled with the sweet smell of freshly baked vanilla croissants, while Momma Seresin works on a citrus jam to serve with the delectable baked goods. The ranch cat, Ginger, pads quietly on the tiles, waiting for droplets of milk that Mrs Seresin may be so kind as to offer her. The sun is already warming the countertops, the light catching the lamp just so, creating a pattern of colours scattered across the ceiling.

However, there is no sign of Jake, nor any other family around.

“H-hi" you start, realising your voice has yet to wake up with you, "Jake left early…I- I think I’m showing - with the baby.” you blurt out all at once, tripping over your words in excitement. His mother turns to face you with a smile before she pauses, watching you in your soft, matching pyjamas hold your stomach and grin from ear to ear. You smooth your hand down your front and sure enough, there they are.

“Oh honey, you look wonderful." She sets down a saucer for the cat and brushes her hands on her apron. "Jacob’s going to be thrilled. I can’t tell y’all how proud I am of both of y’all. He's a lucky boy and he better know it! May I?"

You nod, still in disbelief at the whole situation, as she lightly presses a hand to your stomach, feeling the little curve that doesn't move, no matter how much you inhale or exhale. His Momma is beaming. She knows not much for certain in the world, but she does know that her son is going to be rendered speechless by his wife.

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

While you'd been asleep at 5.30am, Jake had been torn from his bed by his old man, and couldn't put up a fight once he'd seen the look on the man's face. Rarely would he be up so early unless the cows were needing set up for the county market, but it wasn't the season. Oh no, Pop Seresin was giving his son a good talking to before he and you would head back to San Diego, away from the eyes and care of the family.

Jake knew from the way his father had been driving, and his remarks the evening before, that he was going along for a serious pep talk. The truck they'd taken a drive in before the crack of dawn was parked up at the edge of the river bed about 15 miles from the ranch. He had expected his Pop to get out, to start walking and give him a good grilling.

Instead, the old man took his cap off, and sighed.

"Jacob Nathaniel Seresin. I have raised you - and your sisters - however many years now. And you're an adult in your own right. I want the best for you son, and sometimes you haven't made the smartest decisions." He gives Jake a knowing look, while the younger of the two blinks at the blunt route his father was taking with this talk.

There's another pause, before Pops starts again. Jake almost interrupts it, but he knows better than to do that to his father.

"You gotta take a good long look at your circumstances Jake, you have a beautiful wife, and she's gonna need a whole lot more from you now than ever before. And that won't stop when she's had the baby. 'Cause then, you'll have two people to care for, to love, and protect. Y'understand me?"

"Yes sir."

"Because for a while Jacob, your Momma worried. She worried and Grammy too. And I thought that- well. It don't matter no more, does it. We want you to be the best you can be, that we know you to be, for her. And your boy or girl that's comin' too. You look after 'em, you hear me?"

"I know Pops, but I swear, the day I let her down is the day I lose myself. She makes me the best and I'm gonna do it Pops. We'll be back here, and we'll travel so safe, and- and I'm trying to stay alive at work-"

"Breathe, my boy. Work is tough. But finding a woman like you have that puts up with it all? That's been a damn miracle. So hold her tight, don't ever take her for granted. Ya understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Right, now. We have time for some fishin'. Grab the hooks in the trunk."

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

After a couple hours of fishing, and enough caught for the next couple of dinners at the ranch, the two Seresins head home, just in time for the croissants, jam, and cream to be served shortly after breakfast.

The first thing he smells is his Momma's famous orange and lime jam, and he can hear the cat and her kittens meowing for milk, fighting to be heard over the sound of the whistling kettle as it prepares the water for the tea and coffee orders likely to have been made around the house.

The first thing he sees takes his breath away.

You're in the garden, helping his Momma serve out the cups of coffee and distributing pots of jam, wearing the same pretty little sundress you’ve worn out on the tarmac countless times to greet him after his summer deployments. You're a vision, an angel that he strides towards, ever nearing the moment he can place a soft kiss on your lips.

But then, he falters.

As you offer up the last cup of tea, your hand grazes your stomach lightly and he stops in his tracks. The way your hand lays atop the sweetest curve of his baby warms and soothes his entire soul.

He’s in a daze, utterly transfixed by the time you spot him. In the very next moment, you're in his arms, welcoming him back from his morning departure.

“Good morning, my love. I might have a little surprise...look who’s come out just in time to show off to the family” you coo, a little bashful as you show off your figure, moving your hands underneath your more prominent swell.

His father's words resonate in his head "Don't ever take her for granted, ya understand?"

And how could he? When all you ever do is make him proud and all he ever could do is adore you.

“You’re showin,” Jake says incredulously, as you smile softly at his expression. “Look at you…I didn’t know I could ever love you more and yet…” He exhales sharply, not quite believing his eyes as he feels tears prick them without warning; "That's our baby, baby."

"Your baby, Lieutenant Seresin," you tease, expecting something equally cheeky in return.

Instead, he pulls you close to his firm body, holding you close and just breathing you in before he then looks back down at your belly, holding you at arm’s length, in awe of what you’re doing for him - growing his baby safe and sound. And looking beautiful doing so.

"You look beautiful. I bet Momma's glad she saw little peanut before we left...she's been askin' for pictures and updates already. Although I'll have to take some if you're gonna be looking this good, honey." He trails his hands down your sides, tickling you a little before resting one hand on your stomach, engulfing the bump entirely, with the other hand holding your waist.

He really could get used to holding his whole world in his arms.

[prettyboykatsuki]

if its not too tmi, the guide to making your girl cum might still be useful 😭 my gf and i are both in our first relationship and any help would be welcome

i have so many asks fdjslk?? abt this. like no bullshit at all maybe fifteen. but sure 👍🏾 note i am no sex expert or really anyone u should listen to but you know. i get okay reviews

first things first - the most important thing is learning to communicate with your partner. ik u have heard that many times but every body is different and if you can take instructions well, making someone cum is much easier. like. people say it all the time for good reason but just focus on listening more than anything else

also im using woman / she + her but this advice applies to any afab people who are not currently talking T👍🏾 testosterone changes some stuff so i'd give diff advice on some parts abt touching n stuff

learning how to take an apply what ur told is truly like 99% of the game

for women in particularly - u should probably carve out a chunk of time. most women need at least 15 minutes if it's with a partner (often more) and if it's your first time tg it's good to take each other apart and get comfortable

also somewhat obvious but you absolutely cannot forgo foreplay. truly cannot be overstated but u can't. lol

if share the same parts, u are already at somewhat of an advantage as you have some ideas on where to touch etc. neck and chest are always safe bets, and so is inner thigh etc. deep kissing is always also a safe bet. don't overthink it too much, just do your best to communicate both appreciation and attraction

foreplay also starts before getting naked being genuine. undressing someone or showing sensual affection is your friend. ik this sounds corny but its very genuine advice lol

a lot of foreplay is both to build arousal but also getting someone out of their head. a lot of women in particular tend to get really hung up on various aspects of the process. if you can effectively get them out of that mindspace, you're already on your own way

sometimes dirty talk is good and dirty talk does not need to be crass - making sensual small talk can go a long way. praising how she looks or feels, showing your enthusiasm by telling you're looking forward to making her feel good.

thank you is also always safe in that process. thank you for letting me touch you, thank you for trusting me to make you feel good etc. and if you're not feeling confident - it does the same job as something more dirty lol

here is some more specific stuff 👍🏾

a lot of getting 2 know someone sexually is figuring out various sensitivities and pressure. generally speaking, women tend to lean one way or the other when it comes to pressure on different areas of the body for foreplay.

(usually of course, there is some mix of both - but at least in my experience there is more general lean one way vs another)

some people prefer softer touches and caressing and some people prefer more deep pressure and groping. always start on on the soft end and move towards the other slowly.

YOU WILL WANT TO LEARN INDIRECT VS DIRECT PLEASURE. ON YOUR PARTNER AND WHAT THEY PREFER !!!

some parts of a womans body are too sensitive to be touched directly, and they may highly prefer indirect contact as their choice of pleasure. if a womans clit is too sensitive, you might want to stimulate the area just around or underneath instead of directly touching their clit. use their clitoral hood as a buffer essentially.

the clit itself firms up but it's an entire area inside of your body. and what's exposed is just one nerve. its why touching or rubbing the sides can still make effective foreplay because internally the clit has a whole body etc

the hardest part about clitoral stimulation is reading reactions. but the clit will respond to pleasure physically most of the time. try things deliberately, and time your tongue or fingers in a way that lets you gauge their reaction

if someone is feeling good - you'll usually get a very faint throb. you have to look for it to notice it sometimes, but the intensity of that throbbing is what will tell you. clits are similar to dicks in that way

same thing goes for nipples usually. plenty of people like it being touched or sucked directly (again it is all abt sensitivity and pressure) - but it's common for the area to be too sensitive.

touching around, through / over the fabric of their top (this works better with non-silky materials / stuff with no slip), and underneath can also do the job. if the nipples are sensitive to the point of being unpleasurable - the swell underneath the boobs is often a good place to show affection. u can try running your fingers underneath to cup and squeeze instead. or just

the no slip thing is because rougher fabric give nice friction. being touched through cotton feels different from silk. its more hit or miss in my experience

im going to break down the advice about actual fucking into three parts so bear with me .

the most important thing for ALL of this is fucking consistency. listen to me im being so serious. when you hit a rhythm do not stop. ESPECIALLY if she tells you not too.

oral: this one is tricky because there's truly not a universally good way of eating pussy. it's like... four of the above skills wrapped in one skill. so even if i wanted to school you in i don't think i could lol

my best advice is to remember the above about pressure and sensitive and start slow. stimulate the surrounding areas with your tongue, do a lot of teasing. if she's too embarrassed to tell you things verbally, this will usually push her to showing you at least. if she bucks up against you that's a good sign to give a little more pressure.

building pressure is important here. she will feel pretty much every part of your tongue, so make sure you are careful and listen to what she says or does. when you find the rhythm to lick, it's normally safe to suck on her clit (from light pressure to deeper pressure like before)

you will know when you're hitting the right everything because it will start to pulse in your mouth and she will squirm more. when you're there, stay there and don't move unless you're going to die. learn to breathe through your nose lol

FOR PENETRATION THERE IS TWO THINGS. and most time you will still want to pair with clit stimulation but rmb 2 ask.

fingering: the vagina is one of those things that is very hit or miss. with fingering in particular. for most women, it feels better to have another person do it. and it's best combined with clitoral stimulation so it can often be a two-handed affair or used as a sidepiece to oral.

the most pleasure will be felt around the actual opening and against the gspot. the opening has a lot more sensitive which is why the thrusting motion feels good. the g-spot can also feel good, but keep in mind that a gspot orgasm is internal and can feel especially intense. so just be prepared for what reaction you might get and maybe getting pee-d on. or squirted on. or both.

finding the g-spot isn't complicated, it will feel a little textured and have a little more give. with enough arousal it will also be swollen and easier to find.. you will hear a lot about the come hither motion, but what you're actually doing is rubbing along the upper walls.

again, everyone is different but honestly - i've had good luck combining a thrusting motion with the rubbing motion. use your wrist to move so you don't get tired. you can pick what fingers to use but middle and pointer is go to, so you can angle your palm against their clit (in the instance you are just using your hands).

FOR SEX TOY PENETRATION:

dildos: if i tried to explain how the strap works we would simply be here all day, so i will be talking about the dildo as a separate appendage used with your hands and not as part of a strap-on. strap sex is too much of a science lmao

almost all of the time - using a dildo is trying to create the same stimulation as above with gspot pressure, but that's not the only way. there are several angles and those angles hit different things, so it's worth experimenting with this. but for internal orgasm and using dildos - you want to understand comfort and friction.

lube is your friend, but too much slip can make it feel like nothing so build up the lube slowly. some resistance can feel pleasurable and is often ideal. with dildo, you also want to keep in mind the rigidity and maybe buy a toy together. a dildo can be too hard or too soft depending on what it's made with

internal orgasms rely a lot on muscle tension and angling, as well as pace. everyone is different and there is once again no universal way but your best bet is a rhythmic, pushing up motion. if you're using a dildo on your partner, i recommend put a pillow underneath their spine for easier angling.

LAST BUT NOT LEAST, REMEMBER ALL ORGASMS ARE TENSION RELEASE.

you need to build tension to release it and keep tension to cum. the need for steadiness and rhythm comes from that. if you're wanting to make someone orgasm, some physical tension can really help - so asking your partner to grab your hair and hold onto your wrist can be helpful. giving their muscles something to flex and hold can redirect focus and help with intimacy so let her pull your hair or dig her nails in your back or grab your wrist. it will actually get u closer to the orgasm

remember most of all though to have fun and feel good together. sex isn't a performance, it's a mutual act of pleasure. too much pressure will kill your boner. good luck 🫡

[sanfangirl-cynicalromantic]

The Lady Knight | Chapter 4

Oh, my God, I didn't actually think I'd be posting the last chapter exactly one year after I posted the first, but well, here we are.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Read on AO3 here

Astrid wasn’t sure what to say to Hiccup at first. After everything had happened, they still needed to talk more. They still hadn’t resolved what to do about . . . feelings. Did he still like her that way? Had he realized they just wouldn’t work and that’s why he had forgiven her so easily?

The thing was, she had told him she was in love with him, and they were good now, but what did ‘good’ mean? Were they still friends? Was the proposal void or still being offered? Did she want to marry him? Well, yes, of course she did but she also didn’t until she sorted things out. But what about Hiccup? Did he want these things? 

There were uncomfortable questions still battling for space in her head, but she discovered that they had not lost their companionable silence, and for that she was grateful. It was nice to forget about all the drama between them and slip into their familiar pattern of working harmoniously alongside each other. Stormfly and Toothless huffed at each other as if catching up on the latest gossip and Astrid found herself smiling stupidly when her visor was down at the prince’s concentration on the maps.

“So, what are you doing on this mission?” she asked into the silence.

“Huh?” Hiccup asked, dragging his eyes from the road to look at her.

“You said you were going to Raven Point because there wasn’t enough time to gather a squad, but I’m wondering how you got this information with so little notice,” she clarified.

“Ah,” Hiccup said. “Well, um, I was . . . actually the one who got the information.” Astrid frowned in confusion.

“Really? How?”

“I, uh, well, do you possibly remember the day I came to propose to you and you said no?” he asked sheepishly. Astrid grimaced at the reminder which Hiccup took as confirmation despite not being able to see her face. “Anyway, I stumbled across Trader Johann who generously spilled the beans.”

“He just told you Drago and his generals were meeting with Dragons of his own free will?” Astrid asked skeptically.

“After I threatened him and saved his life, yeah,” Hiccup nodded. “Not in that order, though.” Astrid snorted. The idea of Hiccup being the type to threaten someone was laughable, but Trader Johann had an uncanny knack of getting under everyone’s skin, and poor, patient Hiccup often lost his temper with the obsequious merchant.

They rode on mainly in silence, trying to cover as much ground as possible so that they could hopefully scope out the coves before Krogan arrived. The sun hadn’t halfway hidden behind the horizon before Astrid caught sight of a cozy looking clearing on the west side of the forest and called to Hiccup that they should set up camp there. He turned Toothless slightly and they investigated the brush quickly, still on their horses, before Hiccup nodded in satisfaction and dismounted Toothless, beginning to brush him down immediately.

Astrid slid off Stormfly and turned to unfasten her mare’s straps. Hiccup, finished with Toothless, held out a hand to take her saddle from her. She smiled and passed it to him, their hands brushing and setting her body atingle with prickly warmth. She could have sworn his eyes darkened in response, but chalked it up to the dimming light. After looping Stormfly’s harness around a low branch by the river she set about making camp. They could afford a fire for now as they were still early on in their travels and did not need to be so discreet, and there was no need to forgo what little comfort there was to be had when sleeping on the ground.

Hiccup set to stirring up a fire and unpacking the food as Astrid finished clearing the brush out of the way. He tossed her a bread roll, stale and cold from that afternoon, but a luxury for the next few days.

“I brought plenty of coins,” Astrid said as Hiccup started taking inventory of their supplies. She had brought a lot, planning to use money to get into certain people’s good graces as she started her campaign to let females inherit, but Hiccup had already established the case with the king and brought it to his attention, so there was no better use for it than perhaps providing them a night in a tavern bed.

“Oh,” he breathed. Astrid turned to see what he was looking at. He held up her hair comb, an unreadable look in his eye.

“Oh, that,” Astrid said quietly. He brought it closer to the fire, the light glinting off the polished metal. “I bring it everywhere I go,” she shrugged when he didn’t say anything. “Plus, you know, I was coming to apologize and I just - if you didn’t accept it . . .” she trailed off, not really sure what else to say and afraid to hear if Hiccup wanted it back or if he was angry she’d even considered giving it to him.

“It’s always yours,” he told her in a low voice. Her eyes flicked up to meet his and he offered her a tentative smile which she returned. He looked down at the comb again and then back at her. “May I?” he asked, gesturing with his hand still holding the accessory.

“Yeah,” she granted him permission immediately. She untucked her messy braid - the helmet wore out the braid in mere hours - from her neckline, ignoring the way Hiccup’s breath caught as individual strands lit up like golden threads from the fire. She brushed some wisps from her face and smiled shyly. Hiccup got up from his crouch slowly, moving the way one did when approaching a wild animal and didn’t want to scare them off, but she wasn’t sure who was the most skittish in this case.

She had to stop her face automatically angling to meet his as he brushed the wisps of hair that had fallen into her face again and combed them back with fingers that would have been shaky if it were any other person, but this was Hiccup, the man with the steadiest hands on Midgard and though they were unsure they didn’t tremble in the slightest. He was unaccustomed to dealing with hair, that she could tell by the way he didn’t know exactly how to pull her hair back, but he managed and slid the comb in place, pinning those stray locks into place. He didn’t move as his hands slowly fell away from her hair. She was ridiculous looking, surely. Her hair was frizzy and messy with those few strands pinned back in a mockery of an elegant hairdo and her face was an unflattering red from the heat of the fire, steadily growing almost unbearably warm under his tender scrutiny, but he was still gazing at her like she was the most beautiful lady he had ever seen.

Neither of them were breathing, too paralyzed with the presence of the other to move, until Astrid found herself tilting her chin upwards a smidge, and Hiccup’s gaze zeroed in on her mouth. Her lips suddenly felt dry and cracked and her heart pounded at the barely concealed hunger in his eyes. Their eyes met for a split second before they found themselves leaning it at the same time, just barely stopping themselves before they made true contact. There was almost no room to breathe, if any of them were even breathing. Astrid didn’t dare blink, but if she did she’d wager her eyelashes would tangle with his before they brushed her cheek. Her neck started to protest at holding herself too still. She let out a shaky breath and inhaled a greedy gulp of air before her eyes shut and she brushed her lips over his.

She had to hold in a gasp as the sensation. She could have sworn the contact sizzled the space between them and she retreated, a knee jerk reaction like how she automatically pulled back after placing a fresh cut of meat on the iron pans when it was her turn to cook breakfast back in the Berk Guard. Apparently frying bacon was all she was good at cooking. But even as she pulled away her hands gripped his shoulders and pulled him with her, his lips landing on hers with more surety.

This was a proper kiss, Astrid thought faintly as she pressed back up against him, her neck shifting to get a better angle and one hand sliding up his shoulder to grip the back of his neck, holding him there to ensure he wouldn’t pull away until she let him. She didn’t let go of the back of his neck even as they parted for air - a short gasp - before they were surging forward again to meet each other. His body was blocking the heat of the fire from reaching her but she couldn’t bring herself to care, not when the heat of his body was seeping into hers and the whole world had condensed to dark warmth and firm torsos and his hot mouth.

“Astrid,” he whispered when they parted again, and she shivered at the utter sin in his desperate rasp of a voice.  Again they collided, mouths opening, tongues tangling. She didn’t even register them somehow slipping off of the log but she knew that now Hiccup was on the ground and she was straddling him and she couldn’t get enough and she was fumbling with his tunic, overcome by the need to be close to him, as close as humanly possible and then some but Hiccup’s hands gripped her hips to hold her still and she pulled away from his lips with a pop to look at him confusedly. “We need to stop,” he croaked, his voice tight the way it usually sounded when he was getting treated for wounds and held back his cries of pain.

She had to blink a few times to clear the cloud of lust and her cheeks immediately burned bright as she looked down at the flushed prince.

“What?” she asked stupidly because wow Hiccup’s eyes had never seemed as luminescent and dark and big before and his warm hands on her hips was terribly distracting.

“Um,” Hiccup tried to shift before he let out a deep groan and covered his face in his hands. “We shouldn’t. Not like - not like this.”

“Yeah,” Astrid agreed, not entirely sure why her body felt empty as she stood up. She offered her hand to the prince, too, but he just shook his head and rose to a sitting position, pulling his legs close to him and hunching forward like his stomach was in pain. Astrid wondered if she had somehow hurt him, if maybe she was too heavy to straddle him. Or maybe was he ashamed of what had just happened? She tried not to scowl at the thought.

“It’s just,” Hiccup continued, having caught sight of her face. “I, I just - I don’t think I could hold myself back - right then, at least. Because I, um, it was unexpected.”

“No,” Astrid said nonchalantly. “You’re right. It’s a bit too soon for us to…” she trailed off and shrugged abashedly, cursing her reddened cheeks. She cast around for her last bite of bread and stuffed it into her mouth indelicately.

“Do you want me to take the first watch?” she offered, not looking at him.

“No,” Hiccup sighed. “I won’t be able to sleep just yet.”

Me neither, Astrid thought but she unrolled the blanket and threw it over her legs before laying down with her back to the fire - and consequently, Hiccup.

‘Maybe we weren’t the match I thought we were’ rang in her head as she squeezed her eyes closed and tried to force sleep upon herself. Did he regret what had transpired between them? She fought against a shiver at what would happen to her marriage prospects if Hiccup outed her. He wouldn’t, of course, she knew she was being ridiculous, but she felt stupid and rejected and she wanted to punch him. So he had to do something that would justify her punching him.

She woke him up early in the morning right after dawn by kicking him somewhat gently in the side. He groaned and rubbed his eyes. Astrid brought Toothless, already saddled and watered over to him as he slowly packed up his bedroll. He was adorably slow for the first fifteen minutes when he woke up, and then was bright eyed until unholy hours of the night. He let out grumpy noises of protest as Toothless jostled him in the saddle and Astrid wanted to melt, but the warm thoughts of what had happened last night froze her sentimental feelings and she turned ahead coldly.

Astrid kept her eyes stoutly ahead as they rode that day. She was now beginning to regret coming with Hiccup. He kept sending her questioning glances and opening his mouth to talk and so though Astrid really didn’t want to talk to him at all, she was forced to distract him from talking about the other night by pointing something inconsequential out. She scarfed down her food that night and volunteered herself for guard duty, cutting Hiccup off efficiently by telling him not to be tired when she woke him up for his turn.

By morning again, Hiccup was also in a sour mood. His eyes bore into the back of her helmet as they trotted forward silently. It had been two days. They still had a week’s ride ahead of them, then scouting and another two weeks back. Thor strike her dead. Why was she doing this?

“Give me the map,” she said abruptly. She held her hand out and he wordlessly placed the rolled up parchment, carefully oiled, in her hand. She studied it aimlessly, trying to look occupied so she could avoid the conversation. “There’s an inn nearby,” she noticed.

“Is an inn a smart idea?” Hiccup asked. “We want to be discreet.”

“I doubt they’re expecting us,” Astrid reasoned. “And we’re only two knights. There’s nothing suspicious about that. Plus, we can do a little recon tonight anyway.”

“Alright,” the prince accepted.

“If we ride hard for three hours we should make it before evening and establish ourselves before the crowd comes in,” Astrid told him, rolling up the map and handing it to him smartly.

“Right,” Hiccup drawled in a voice that said, I know exactly what you’re doing, and you’re not getting out of it. Astrid flashed him a saccharine smile, pulled the visor over her face, and nudged Stormfly gently into a gallop.

They were silent for the ride until they caught sight of plowed fields. Hiccup straightened in his seat as the farm houses became closer and closer together before a two story building rose up invitingly. He let out a soft groan of hunger.

“Isn’t that a sight for sore eyes,” he sighed, rubbing his stomach. Astrid cast an amused glance towards him but couldn’t deny the grumble of her stomach either.

The inn was old gray wood. It was made of uneven boards that had small cracks in the thin walls, but Astrid supposed with a fire and warm food and drink it would be just fine. The bedrooms would be freezing, however. It was easily the biggest building around, so Astrid was willing to bet all the men and even some of the women would be gravitating towards the center of the small village, full of unguarded conversation if Astrid or Hiccup were to pay for their drinks.

Their horses slowed to a trot, then a walk until they stopped in front of the door. No stablehand came running to take their horses. No hired help, then. She turned to look at him before they dismounted, silently debating which one should go inside and do the talking. Two knights on their own were hardly suspicious, but the Prince and Sir Hofferson were a well known duo. The question was, which was the least recognizable? Astrid had not cut her hair before leaving her estate, not sure how everything was going to play out and not willing to risk months of cultivating her hair growth and ruining pillows with castor oil. It had also been months since she’d deliberately kept her voice low and gruff for hours on end. Mother had been pushing her to stop speaking so deeply and try a lighter tone. But she could hide behind her visor and blame any distorted sounds on the echo of her helmet. Hiccup did not look like the King, and with all the stories of his near-magical ingenuity his persona and description was probably far from the actual truth. But he wasn’t the best at bargaining, and they needed to save their money to pay for drinks later that night. They settled on Astrid, who dismounted Stormfly gracefully while Hiccup tied a kerchief around his mouth and nose.

She handed him the reins wordlessly and tried to clear her throat subtly as she walked through the door.

It swung open with a creak, revealing two women and a man bustling around the dingy room. Tables scraped against the floor as the seating was rearranged by the youngest girl. The older woman was red in the face as she snapped directions at her daughter from the fireplace while expertly balancing trays of meat and a cauldron of soup. Her husband was switching the kegs and opening them in preparation for the evening. Stacks of clean and dirty tankards littered the counters behind him. He looked up, a hint of fear and deference entering his eyes as he noticed Astrid’s intimidating armor and stance.

“How may I help you, good Sir?” he asked respectfully. His wife’s shouting ceased and the younger girl halted her work, not daring to approach the foreign knight in the room.

“Two rooms for the night, please,” Astrid said curtly. She was pleased at her voice sounding appropriately deep, although wished it had not come out so harsh. The innkeeper shifted uncomfortably.

“We don’t have two rooms available, Sir,” the man said apologetically. He was burly and his voice was steady. Astrid had to admire his guts as she pushed her visor up so he could see her piercing blue eyes and the top half of her nose. “We only have two rooms to rent out as it is, and the first one is under repair. It was damaged severely in the last raid and is completely uninhabitable.” The annoyance at his response melted a bit. This far up north the raids were deemed less important so the Berk Guard rarely had time to patrol the place when they were more focused with protecting the western and southern sides of Berk exposed to the war. And all the soldiers stationed up here would be poorer rookie knights. The people up here didn’t stand a chance. And if Hiccup was right and there was a whole army stationed up here and they were testing Berk’s reaction to small raids in this insignificant area? Odin help them all.

“Very well. One room for two, please,” she amended in a more amicable tone. The door opened and Hiccup strode through, dusting his hands. He must have cleaned out the stables for their horses and raked some hay for them. “For my comrade and I,” she explained, jerking her head towards him.

“We only have the one bed,” the innkeeper apologized, almost cringing. “B-But it is the finest we ‘ave, an you get yer own bathing room.” Astrid sighed.

“That’ll do,” she acquiesced. She produced three gold coins - far too much, she knew, but she wanted to help the family fix up their second bedroom and maybe fix those holes in the walls - and set them on the counter. “That should cover a night and a hearty breakfast and dinner as well as the stables and feeding for our mounts, yes?”

“Y-Yes,” stammered the man, likely never having received so much gold from one person before. “That’ll - that’ll certainly do.”

“Good,” Astrid smiled, though he could not see it. “Would one of you kind folks help us run a warm bath? We are weary after our travels and could use a good soak. Separate bathwater for each.” The older man nodded and snapped his fingers at his daughter, who scurried to haul some water.

“Right this way is your room, sirs,” the man led them to a small room with a rickety bed. A thin rug lay on the floor and a narrow tub stood in a corner, hidden by a sheet. The bed had one down blanket and two flat pillows. Astrid decided she liked it. She took her travel sack from Hiccup, who had brought them in and deposited it under the bed.

“The bath will be ready in twenty minutes,” the innkeeper informed them and Hiccup thanked him.

“You can have the first bath,” Hiccup offered when the man had left the room.

“Thanks,” Astrid nodded. She hesitated at taking off her helmet before the girl came in, because she hadn’t cut her hair yet and she wasn’t sure if they’d keep quiet if they realized she was a girl.

Ten minutes later the girl came bearing a yoke with multiple buckets of boiling water.

“I can pour them,” Astrid offered, taking the three large buckets of water easily. The girl nodded and went to fetch the other buckets. Once the tub was filled, Astrid dug through the sack for a change of clothes and Hiccup shuffled awkwardly.

“I think I’ll go downstairs,” he announced. “Help them get ready for tonight and see if I can get any gossip.”

“Okay,” Astrid agreed. “I should be finished by the time the hour’s done and I’ll ring to have it switched.” Hiccup dipped his chin towards her and slipped outside, leaving Astrid to finally take off her helmet and clean her hair. She stripped gleefully and slid into the tub, suppressing a pleased groan at the scalding water. She had to sit with her knees to her chest to fit in the tub, so she hadn’t filled it all the way in order to have space to shift and clean herself. She scrubbed furiously until her skin felt pink and raw. The servants at home would be horrified at her skin; it wouldn’t be as soft without their special flower baths, but Astrid relished the tender feel of cleanliness.

She dried herself off quickly after stepping out of the water, binding her chest and throwing a tunic over her head and wrapping her hair up in the remaining towel. She rang the bell and watched quietly as the girl quickly disposed of the dirty water and brought in buckets of clean water, already heated. Hiccup came back in and thanked her.

He slipped behind the sheet and Astrid averted her gaze as she heard the sounds of his tunic being pulled off and tried not to think about the lean silhouette behind the flimsy cloth divider. She fumbled for the brush in her pack and ran it quickly through her hair. She heard him step into the tub, a quiet hiss at the water and drew a shaky breath. She ran her hands through her hair, trying to dry it quickly so she wouldn’t get sick with a wet head of hair. For the first time in a while, she enjoyed the heavy weight of her golden locks. They had gotten smoother and softer with the care her servants had paid to it in the past months and she found herself planning which updos would work and how to hide her hair comb in it. She heard Hiccup scrubbing himself as she shook her hair out like a wild mane and stretched out on the bed. Even the thin mattress was much softer than the hard ground they had slept on for the past two nights.

She was wringing the ends of her hair again with her damp towel when she heard Hiccup step out of the tub.

“Oh - damn,” he swore. “I, um, forgot my undershirt.” Astrid turned to see his clean undershirt on the floor.

“Oh, it’s fine,” she reassured him. “Come out, I’ll hand it to you.” She got off the bed and picked up the shirt. Hiccup stepped behind the sheet and both of them halted.

She knew what he looked like without a shirt. But she had never had truly taken the time to look and appreciate, especially not with the unprecedented amount of tension between them and the hot brand of the memory of his mouth on lips. He was lean, with only shadowy hints of muscles and underlying strength in that stupidly attractive, unassuming way of his. His eyes were locked on her unbound hair, clean and wavy in its full glory instead of sweaty and wispy.

“Here,” she shoved the shirt into his hands and retreated as he coughed embarrassedly and scratched the back of his head.

“Thanks. I - I didn’t know . . . your hair.”

“I need to dry it so I don’t catch a cold with a wet head,” she explained. “It’s practically dry, I can just-”

“No,” Hiccup threw up his hands. “I mean, you don’t have to put it back up yet if you don’t want to.” Astrid stared at him quietly. He sighed. “Look, can we - can we talk about this?”

“About what?” Astrid asked mulishly.

“You’ve been avoiding talking to me all day today and yesterday,” he said firmly. “I thought we’d just sorted things through, and now we’re back to this.”

“I don’t think there’s much to say,” she shrugged. “I apologized-”

“And I stand by what I said; it was the best apology I’ve ever had. But I mean what happened two nights ago?” he demanded. “I’m sorry if I did something wrong-”

“No, that’s not - you didn’t do anything wrong,” Astrid protested.

“Then why are you giving me the cold shoulder?”

“I - You - didn’t like it,” she stammered. “You wanted to stop.”

“Stop? What, the - the kiss?” Hiccup let out a small laugh. “Astrid, the last thing I wanted to do was stop.”

“Then why did you?” Astrid asked. “Did you think it was a mistake?”

“I just,” Hiccup waved his hands around pleadingly. He reached for her hand and led them to sit on the end of the bed. “I want to do this right, you know, and ensure that there’s nothing to get in the way of a lawful marriage. Don’t you?” Astrid looked down at her clasped hands and didn’t answer. She felt him frown at her. Marriage. He wanted marriage, she realized. Hadn’t she literally refused it less than two weeks ago? He still wanted to marry her? Was she ready for marriage? She had only just come to terms with their feelings for each other. Was she ready for marriage to the Prince and the public scrutiny of being a Princess? Her eyes were growing bigger with her spiraling thoughts and Hiccup’s noted her panicked face with a pang.

“Astrid?” he asked hesitantly, his voice small and unsure. “Do you - do you want to marry me?” Astrid bit her lip. He sighed and made to move off the bed.

“Wait, no,” Astrid protested, grabbing his wrist swiftly. He tried to shake her off half heartedly and she caught sight of his face. Her heart dropped into her stomach at the sight. He was hurt. Again. Thor damn it, this was why she didn’t like to talk about her feelings!

“Hiccup, that’s not what I meant,” she amended hastily. “Okay? I really - I wouldn’t marry anyone else; it’s just -” she broke out and glared at the ceiling like it was withholding her words from her. “I don’t want them to win,” she finished ashamedly.

“Win?” Hiccup asked, turning to her. “Who?”

“My parents,” Astrid admitted. “They - they want me to marry you.”

“You don’t want to marry me because you already have your father’s approval to marry me?” Hiccup said incredulously. She groaned and contemplated smothering one of them with a pillow.

“No, not because I have his approval, but because - I don’t want them to think I’m marrying you because of them,” she explained. “Like they’re the reason their daughter managed to marry into the royal family. They - before you came that day to propose they had already been planning to marry me to you. They knew I liked you but the reasons they’d give me … They’d act like I’d be failing them if I didn’t, you know? I’m just expected to marry you now. All my years being a knight were useless if I didn’t use them to learn how to make the Prince fall in love with me and become royalty.”

“Astrid,” Hiccup scooted closer to her  and rested a warm hand on her shoulder.

“It’s your worst nightmare,” Astrid continued. “You’ve always said you hate those families who eye you like a piece of meat and mine is just like that.”

“Hold on,” Hiccup interrupted. “Marrying you could never be a nightmare for me. But aside from that, how is it your nightmare?”

“I don’t mean that I don’t want to marry you,” Astrid said, hoping he hadn’t misunderstood her. “But all they had to say was how beneficial a union would be. And I don’t want to make them feel like any of that is justified. I don’t want to be relegated to a simple wife! I want to be one, sure, but I don’t want it to be all that I am. And their plan! I just,” she shrugged. “Is it awful of me to want to be difficult just to spite them?”

Hiccup barked a laugh. “Heavens, no. And even if it was, it’s not like I’d be in a position to judge. Do you remember all the ridiculous messes I made just to spite our instructors?” Astrid smiled at the reminder.

“How could I forget,” she teased him dryly.

“But if they were planning to marry you off, what were they going to do about the other you?” Hiccup contemplated. Astrid scoffed.

“They didn’t know you know who I am, so they were going to kill me off so that ‘Astrid’ could emerge properly back into society. They hoped I might console you over the death of your friend and perhaps remind you of him enough to marry me.” Hiccup snickered.

“That would have been a funny scene,” he grinned. “We could have played such games with your parents not knowing I knew.”

“It wasn’t funny to me,” Astrid admitted. “I dreaded having to look you in the eye and act like I didn’t know you. I thought you’d hate me for being so duplicitous to your face.”

“Hey,” he said intently, waiting for you to look up at him. “I could never hate you. And I know you’re in a unique position. I would never hold it against you. I would tease you, though, if no one was listening, just to mess with you.” She immediately swatted him and he yelped.

“You muttonhead,” she scowled, fighting back a smile. “You would have given me a heart attack.”

“Even better,” Hiccup smirked. Astrid leaned forward to rest her head against his chest.

“I hate that plan, though,” Astrid admitted. Hiccup wrapped an arm around her and squeezed gently as if to ask, why?

“I - I don’t want to stop being a knight,” Astrid whispered. “I don’t want to stop fighting. I don’t want to pretend like I haven’t literally given my blood for this country. Do you know what the knights our age are like to young ladies? They think they’re Thor’s gift to women and are the most condescending pricks to exist on Midgard. And I want to punch them and tell them who I am just to see their grins slip off their face, but instead I must smile politely and praise them for their bravery! It must be vain of me to want the adulation of the kingdom for my bravery and skills, but the only alternative is to be praised for outwardly beauty or perhaps virtue, how could I ever succeed in their eyes?” Hiccup was silent at her words.

“Well, what if you could be both?” he asked.

“Excuse me?” Astrid blinked incredulously.

“What if you came out as a knight as your female counterpart - as Astrid. Then people would know but you wouldn’t have to pretend any longer.”

“It’d ruin marriage prospects,” Astrid shook her head.

“Not for me,” Hiccup said immediately. “I don’t need to protect my ego and have my wife unable to defend herself. In fact, I’d be immensely proud of her being such a skilled warrior.”

“Hiccup-”

“It could work,” he pressed passionately. “Dad wants to change the laws surrounding women. We could make knighthood a part of it besides inheritance.”

“That would take years,” she argued.

“I would wait,” he told her seriously.

“I don’t think my parents want me to wait that long,” Astrid sighed. “And how do we know your parents would ever allow it? You’re the Heir; your standards for a wife are higher than most in the kingdom.”

“Who could possibly be better than a lady who is beautiful, poised, and can defend us all in a pinch?” Hiccup cried with righteous indignation. Astrid couldn’t help but laugh as she hung her head to hide the furious blush that bloomed on her cheeks. “I don’t want to marry anyone if it isn’t you,” Hiccup began but Astrid laid a finger on his lips.

“Don’t say that,” she said sternly. “Not yet. Please.”

“We’ll sort this out,” Hiccup promised instead. “Starting with taking down Krogan.”

“Right,” Astrid shook her head, having forgotten about the mission at hand. “We should go down. Supper is probably ready.” Hiccup lifted his arm from her shoulder and her hands immediately went to her hair. “I’ll braid this and be down.”

“I’ll finish getting dressed,” Hiccup added. “If you’re going to be in armor, I should be, too.” She smiled at him.

“You hate wearing your armor when you eat,” she reminded him. He raised an eyebrow at her and shrugged.

“It’s fine,” he assured her. “It’d be odd to have one knight in casual clothes an the other in armor. Plus, I wouldn’t want you to single yourself out as a target should things go south by being the one dressed for a fight.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely. Hiccup had complained heartily to her over the years on those occasions where they had had to stay in their armor and on their guard even when eating. He hated how hard it was to move his arms and how inaccessible movement was. And, still having the residual clumsiness from his youth, he often accidentally spilled his food and it drove him mad not to be able to find the bread crumbs.

The casual inquiries went well. Astrid knew the way Hiccup thought and knew which questions to ask to give him the details he needed. They had their act down to an art, moving smoothly around one another, any awkwardness from their room forgotten. But it did not stay that way when they retired for the night.

“Hiccup, get in the bed,” Astrid said firmly. Hiccup shuffled awkwardly.

“I, um-” Astrid patted the blanket beside her aggressively.

“We have one night with a bed,” she pointed out. “I’m not going to be the only one to enjoy it.”

“You should take it,” Hiccup insisted. Astrid growled.

“We should both take it as knights who both need a good night’s rest. If you don’t get in I will give us shifts in the bed and wake us both in the middle of the night to switch places. If you’re going to pull the ‘I’m a lady’ yakdung I’m going to pull the royalty card which entitles you to the bed.” Hiccup sighed and pulled back the blankets on the other side of the bed.

“Why can’t you let me be chivalrous for once?” he grumbled as he shifted around to get comfortable. Astrid considered facing him but decided to stay on her back staring at the dark ceiling.

“You are irritatingly chivalrous to the point I worry you will get me found out,” Astrid said flatly. “I do not wish to be coddled in cases like these.”

“I don’t mean to coddle you,” Hiccup replied. “I’m sorry. It’s just hard to treat you without the care I want to give you. That you deserve.”

“Hiccup,” she said softly. “It’s never going to be easy. Us, I mean.” Hiccup shifted under the blankets.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “And I understand that, but at the same time, there is no one I feel as comfortable and easy with as you. You get me. I like to think I get you. We’ve already established ourselves as a legendary team; imagine us leading Berk together as a team.”

“It’s only easy because we’re on the same footing,” Astrid refuted. “When we’re both knights, we’re equals. As a fellow warrior, it is easy for us, but as a prince and a reclusive lady? Hiccup, the only time we’ve acted as such we fought.”

“We fought and grew,” Hiccup said steadily. “We hurt each other but came back stronger. Look, I’m not saying it won’t be hard, but I believe what we have is worth fighting for.”

“But I haven’t won you over,” Astrid protested.

“What?” asked Hiccup confusedly.

“I thought I’d have to woo you,” Astrid explained. “And now I don’t have to? You’re throwing me off the plan.”

“Well, my apologies,” Hiccup said in a tone that told her he was rolling his eyes. “But you’d already won me over years ago.”

“How?”

“How? By - by being a woman unafraid of fighting in a man’s world to support her family. With your resolve and faithfulness as you powered through dreary fights and helped me overcome them, too. With your straightforward honesty and how you didn’t coddle me with your words or actions.”

“I wasn’t trying to win you over, though.”

“You never had to,” Hiccup leaned over to press a kiss to her hairline. “You’ve won me just as who you are. There was never any question as to whether I’d fall for you or not.” Astrid’s breath caught and she pushed him off of her gently.

“Will you still feel that way if we part ways after this mission and don’t see each other for mayhaps years?” she asked. “I have not reached a resolution for my problems and you will become King.”

“We can only try,” Hiccup admitted, “But I am only certain that my feelings would remain strong while we sort ourselves out. I’d like to announce an engagement sooner rather than later, though, so I can get Mom off my back whilst I'm promised to another.”

“I’ll try,” Astrid told him. He scooted softly back to his side of the bed and Astrid closed her eyes.

“Astrid?” She opened her eyes again, then realized he couldn’t have seen the action.

“Yes?”

“Does this mean that you’ll say yes when I do propose eventually?” Astrid bit her lip.

“We’re nowhere near ready for that,” she said sternly. “But - Yes. When you propose. Eventually.” She couldn’t tell for sure, but the movement he made sounded a lot like he’d buried his face in his pillow and let out a yell of triumph.

.oOo.

Not a week later they arrived at the Coves. The land was rocky but green, courtesy of the late summer rains. Most of the land in northern Berk was full of small rocks and thin dirt, making it hard for any life to thrive. It was one of the reasons it was such a good hideout for the Dragons; there was no pressing incentive to farm the land they were occupying and terrorizing. The winds were harsh enough to discourage many trees from growing to imposing heights, so the most texture it had were the many hills and uneven piles of rocks. The Coves, however, were like a breath of fresh color. The rocks were larger and more stable. Moss blanketed the stone with green warmth. A couple brave flowers peeked between thin cracks, and the water was freezing but clean.

The journey to the Coves was a boring one, and the locals were wary enough of the place to steer clear of the bandits they knew were lurking somewhere. Most had been tight lipped in the inn a week ago, but with Astrid and Hiccup generously paying for everyone’s drinks that night, enough tongues loosened up enough to prove useful.

The raids had been getting a little more frequent, and it was getting harder for the surrounding villages and towns to restock enough provisions for themselves between each raid to have enough left over to feed everyone. Cows and chickens frequently went missing, and even the foxes had been hunted to the point where they doubted the animals were what was eating their precious livestock, and the alternative option for meat had disappeared.

“Aye, the Coves,” one older lady had nodded drunkenly that night. Astrid had smiled politely at her. “They’re beautiful, not that I’ve been there for years! Them bandits are always guarding that place, they are.”

“Beautiful how?” Astrid had asked. “Do you remember how to get there, exactly?”

The Coves were just the start of the magical place. There was a large lake in the middle of the coves that turned the surrounding area green and apparently, caves that created a large network of tunnels around the Coves and even branching into some of the nearby hills.

“We used to explore them tunnels,” the old lady had recalled wistfully. “Dunno what’s been dun to the place now, of course.” Astrid had waved over another keg of mead and pushed it into the lady’s hands.

Hiccup looked around the place with interest. “Amazing what a steady source of water will do,” he wondered. “Maybe if I talked to Dad and we could figure out an irrigation system-”

“Hiccup, focus,” Astrid laughed. The ruler in Hiccup was starting to show despite his protests that he wasn’t cut out to lead a country. They had grown closer in the past few days. Hiccup had assured her he cared for her and would do everything he could to ensure that Berk would become a better place for girls like Astrid. If worse came to worse after the war, Astrid supposed she could step down as a knight to marry Hiccup and help make the world easier from the sidelines. They were doing things right, but that didn’t stop them from sharing a couple kisses between every break and sleeping in each other’s arms at night instead of back to back. Neither had said it outright yet, but they were in love and Astrid was finding herself hard pressed not to just elope with him then and there. Being a future queen didn’t sound so bad or insurmountable anymore. But, she reminded herself, that was just because

“We have about a week until Krogan’s set to arrive, yes?” Astrid checked when Hiccup hadn’t stopped staring contemplatively around him. He blinked and shook himself out of his daze and Astrid bit back a smile.

“Er, yes,” he said. “I figured we could arrive ahead of time, scope things out and figure a course of action before he came. I don’t know how long he’ll be here and we want to be as efficient as possible.”

“When the lady I talked to said the place was guarded, do you think she meant like sentries, spies, or everyone just knows everyone?” Astrid wondered aloud.

“It’d be impossible to know everyone,” Hiccup responded. “According to Johann, their numbers are in the thousands. How long ago had it been since she’d tried to come here? Maybe they’ve gotten lax with their security.”

“Maybe,” Astrid said doubtfully. “I say we choose an opening and watch it until someone comes out,” she decided.

“I like the plan,” Hiccup agreed. They unsaddled their horses and hid the saddles behind a bush outside the main opening of rock.

“Bye for now, Toothless,” Hiccup petted the beautiful black stallion’s nose and rested his forehead against it. Astrid patted Stormfly’s flank before shooing her off gently. Their horses were well trained and Hiccup and Astrid would be able to call them back with a curlew’s song whenever they needed to. The horses deserved some free time roaming the plains for a week or so, and they wouldn’t be caught or found out while tending to their steeds. They had trained their horses that trick during their stint with the Berk Guard to show off to their comrades. Throk could catch literal arrows out of the air, and Alvin had been able to snap a small log in two with his bare hands. Every few nights or so all the Guards would take turns showing off, and after months and months of chasing down their horses, Astrid and Hiccup had proudly demonstrated their horses’ intelligence.

Hiccup and Astrid turned back to the cove and began to explore it, looking for an opening.

“There are multiple openings,” Astrid reasoned. “They can’t possibly all be hidden.” They eventually settled behind a big rock and pulled their hoods up over their faces, waiting to be shown an opening they could slip into and observe admittance. Hiccup let out a huge sigh. He didn’t appreciate stakeouts. They usually made him antsy, but Astrid liked the meditative practice of sitting still for hours on end. It was calming, and since she had already sorted through most of her complicated feelings with the wonderful man sitting next to her, she allowed herself to bask in his presence while they waited.

She’d always liked it best when it was just the two of them. Sure, she was friends with the other Guards and even liked Snotlout or Ingerman on occasion. And she always enjoyed lively Eret. But Hiccup and her were special. Maybe it was because he knew of her true self, but even before that, they had connected as two lonely kids and found solace in each other’s friendship. Hiccup thought he had benefited the most out of their friendship, but Astrid was certain that without Hiccup’s gentle awe of her, his quiet support and his unfaltering goodness she would never have wanted to share the experience of freedom with other girls. She would have never learned the elation of love and consuming hope of better things to come for the future. She broke one of the first rules of observing an enemy’s territory and turned her head to gaze at him. His eyes were half closed. It looked like he was falling asleep, so she nudged him gently, stifling a snort at the way his head shot up in a panic. He looked around quickly, remembering their surroundings.

He met her eyes concernedly. Has anyone come? He asked silently. Astrid shook her head and made no move to restrain her smile. He sighed and scanned the cove around them, debating whether or not it’d be faster to continue searching or wait for a Dragon to come out. Astrid’s legs were starting to seriously cramp when Hiccup gripped her arm hard and she stiffened as much as she could without moving and alerting anyone to their location. Her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of a rock moving and a curtain of ivy shoved aside. The Dragon whistled, oblivious to the two sharp pairs of eyes watching him. It looked like they had found their way in.

.oOo.

“This is stupid,” one Dragon member grunted to his companion. His left eyebrow was singed and his teeth filed into fangs. His friend tore into his leg of chicken, ignoring the one who’d spoken. “They’re treating us like soldiers,” he continued to grouse. “But we’re Dragons. We fight and steal for profit, not for stupid conquerors.”

“We’ll make plenty of profit from our coin once Drago pays us,” his companion deigned to answer.

“But there will be so many casualties,” the first one complained. “We raid, not fight. I tell you, the last Red Death would never-”

“Careful,” cautioned his friend urgently. “You can’t be heard saying that. You know she isn’t afraid to slaughter anyone who opposes her, and with Drago’s support, no one can rise against her.”

“I think she cheated when she challenged the last one,” the singed eyebrow groused. “She was nothin’ but his mistress. This is why we can’t never trust no woman.”

“Doesn’t matter if she won,” the Dragon rolled his eyes, biting off the last bit of cartilage from his chicken leg.

“She might not win next time, though,” the first one said, his voice lowering to nearly a whisper. His companion went still.

“Fanghook,” the Dragon said sternly. “Don’t tell me-”

“Kingstail is a strong Dragon, and he hates this yakshit going on with Drago. We’ll lose our identity if we become that man’s soldiers. We’re Dragons. We answer to no one but our own.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” his friend said flatly.

“No we won’t,” Fanghook said confidently. “Kingstail asked if he could count on me when he gives the signal-”

“This is treason,” the other Dragon hissed. “What signal?” Fanghook shifted.

“He said I’d know,” the younger Dragon said with a pout. His companion threw away his chicken bone in disgust. Hiccup’s eyes narrowed but he kept his head perfectly still. There was a coup happening? He waited until the two Dragons had walked away before he dared to stir. Clearing his plate, he hid a couple choice pieces of meat and grabbed a keg of the mildest mead to take to Astrid in case she hadn’t had anything to eat. He wove through the pillars until he reached a rather large one, pockmarked with cavities that were ideal for hand and footholds. He cast a glance around, then carefully took off his hood, stuffing the food inside of it and grabbing onto the rock.

He and Astrid had discovered that while the caves and coves eventually led to the one big cavern, there were pockets of rock that most Dragons liked to sleep in. The pillars were mostly sturdy, and water had carved large holes in the porous rocks over time so there were plenty of handholds. Dragons slept on the rock, and fought for the best places. They weren’t a tight knit group, though. It was every man for himself, full of temporary alliances that ended in backstabbing. Hiccup and Astrid had found a small slab by the northwest end of the coves. The holes were smaller and the slabs less sheltered. It wasn’t a coveted spot, so they were left alone. The only thing that distinguished Dragons were their tattoos and weapons, but as long as he and Astrid kept covered and didn’t get into any fights, they should stay undetected.

It was a good thing Hiccup wasn’t afraid of heights. That was another thing. The small pocket of rock they had chosen was hard to reach because it was so high up. No one wanted to climb that much before they could even make it to their bed, especially after a night of revelry or if they wanted to store their spoils. Hiccup breathed and tested his foothold before stretching out his hand to pull himself further up. He had climbed this pillar enough in the past few days that he had practically memorized his route up, but he wasn’t foolish enough to lose caution.

Astrid was already in the pocket when he had woven through the low ledge to their spot. She looked up at him with a smile, pushing back her hood. It was woven into a crown around her head to keep it short and out of her face, although her hair was too short for it to be fully smooth, and little flyaway hairs stuck out comically. He thought it was adorable.

“Brought you some food,” he said softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head. She swatted him, trying to hide her blush and reached to take the food from him eagerly.

“Oh, thank you,” she breathed. “This is so much better than the food outside. No one knows how to cook over there.”

“Learn anything?” Hiccup asked.

“Mmm, nah,” Astrid said. “They are working on loading carts, but they are unfamiliar with traveling in large numbers. Usually they just hide in the bushes and ambush traveling caravans. They’ve never fought on a large scale before, and a lot of them aren’t happy about it. No one trusts the other, so they won’t be as solid a force as normal soldiers when we fight against them.” She took a minute to chew and swallow. “But in a battle, they’ll probably break off in pairs or something and try to slip through weak cracks. They’ll be very difficult to beat, and don’t seem to have any honor.”

“What are the carts for?” Hiccup asked.

“Weapons and food,” Astrid replied. “They aren’t used to packing and preserving food for travel; usually they just steal it, but Drago wants them to be discreet. What about you?”

“I have something really interesting,” Hiccup smirked. “It sounds like these Dragons really don’t like the idea of teaming up with Drago.”

“Oh?” Astrid cocked her head to the side.

“It sounds like one of them - Kingstail - wants to seize leadership for himself.” Astrid leaned forward, a curious smile on her lips.

“Do you know when?”

“No. The guy I heard it from was utterly clueless. He’ll probably think the next shout is a signal to attack. Anything else on your part?” Astrid snapped her fingers and pointed at him as she remembered.

“Yes! Krogan is coming tomorrow with some of his own generals to lead the Dragons. They’ll be arriving and getting special treatment. Some of the Dragons have had to give up their sleeping spaces to make way for his soldiers and apparently they’ll even try to get a full on room for Krogan.”

“They’re probably to help the Red Death keep the Dragons in check,” Hiccup mused.

“Do you know how to find the Red Death?” Astrid asked.

“Not yet, although I’m sure she’ll make an appearance to greet her guests.”

“Then we’ll be ready. They’ll probably have the conversation in one of their rooms so as to keep their privacy,” Astrid frowned in concentration.

“So, we have until tomorrow,” Hiccup nodded.

“And then what?” Astrid asked. Hiccup wrinkled his nose in confusion. “What do you mean, and then what?”

“Will we leave as soon as we hear the plan?” Astrid asked.

“Yeah. This is just supposed to be a spy mission,” Hiccup said. Astrid stared at her leg of chicken contemplatively.

“We should probably stake out the meeting place before he gets here, then.” Hiccup nodded in agreement. Astrid looked longingly at the thin pile of blankets in the corner, including some they had stolen. “I say two hours rest and then we can spend the rest of the night searching.”

“Suits me,” Hiccup said, crawling over to arrange the blankets. “Wake me when it’s time.”

The best time to sneak around wasn’t late night, but rather a few hours after midnight during the early morning. It was still dark, but the guards on duty were tired after hours of trying to stay awake. Astrid climbed down the pillar first, landing without a sound and pulled her hood up over her head. Hiccup followed quickly and they set off down the cave.

They were pretty familiar with their surroundings on the northwest side of the tunnels. They expertly wove through the twists and turns in the rock, skirting around the cavern filled with Dragons who had passed out from their mead consumption. Astrid had spent the last few days inspecting the collection of wagons and horses the Dragons had in their stables to the western side of their camp to gauge the numbers. With approximately a steed to ride plus a pack horse for each and wagons that could hold more supplies and ten men, she estimated their numbers at eight thousand. Which left the southern and eastern sides. They were closer to the numerous villages the Dragons liked to raid and as a result were far more busy and protected. The south part of the coves were composed of thicker slabs of rock, which stood to reason it’d probably be where the Red Death and her most valuable things were kept.

They drew up short as they came across a sleepy guard standing by a tunnel entrance.

“Well that’s an indication to investigate if I ever saw one,” Hiccup whispered quietly. Astrid snorted softly. They stayed still for a minute, gauging his breathing. Finally, Astrid gave a short nod and Hiccup started forward, stepping in time to the guard’s exhales. Astrid followed suit and they crept down the stone hall until they came across an alcove. It was a cold place with very little light, so there was no way it was the Red Death or Krogan’s quarters, but it had to be important if there was a Dragon guarding it. Hiccup snagged a torch from the wall and brought it over to the alcove. It was actually big enough to be a room, and it was full of gourds, barrels, and boxes, all securely closed. Some of them were labeled and new while others looked old and untouched.

“They seem to be organized by some system, although it’s not obvious yet,” Hiccup observed. Astrid picked up a large gourd and frowned.

“This is awfully light, but clearly sealed. What could possibly be in this?” she wondered. Hiccup shrugged and simply held the torch higher as she looked around the room.

“They have all the weapons together, there,” she pointed. “So maybe they’re sorted by use?” next to the pile of weapons stood a collection of smaller chests and boxes filled with vials and powders. On the other side of the room were the big barrels and gourds. Hiccup brought the torch closer to the latter objects to see if they were labeled.

Astrid walked over next to him and opened a barrel. It had been opened before, and it was no problem to pry the lid and set it to the side. A pungent smell hit their noses and they struggled not to gag audibly. “It looks like . . . gel,” Hiccup frowned. Astrid dipped a finger in it and brought it closer to the torch to inspect it. Her eyes widened as it quickly caught on fire. She yelped and immediately enclosed her flaming finger in a fist.

“Astrid!” Hiccup panicked. “Are you okay?” she opened her fist cautiously, no smoke rising from her palm.

“I - yeah,” she said shakily. “Just surprised. It looks like it burnt all the gel but I stopped it before it could reach my finger.” She wiped the grease on her pants and winced. Her palm was a little red and raw. Hiccup noticed and opened his mouth to say something but Astrid interrupted. “I’m fine. It’s nothing. Is there anything else useful?” Hiccup turned reluctantly back to the stack of supplies. 

“Flammable gel,” he mused, looking around the room. “Weapons. Nets . . .” he walked over and inspected a vial before jerking back. “Nadder concentrate. And Deadly Nadder leaves. This is the poison section . . .”

“Wow,” Astrid breathed. “This place is amazing. Poisons, explosives.” She walked over to a gourd. “This must be some sort of explosive gas, then.”

“We should bring back a sample of all of these poisons,” Hiccup murmured. “Half of them we’ve never seen. I mean, what’s F mist? Although it’s next to Speed Stinger venom so maybe it’s paralyzing, too.” Astrid decided not to fight her eye roll.

“They must use all of these on their victims - a few Dragons have occasionally been hired as mercenaries and assassins, even though the majority of them are bandits,” she thought aloud. “This must be where they keep their supplies.”

“Good to know,” Hiccup mused. “But the Red Death wouldn’t want to be so close to explosives, or keep potential enemies close to them, so Krogan and his men certainly won’t be here.”

The third corridor they came across had a lot more torches, and even fancy doors installed with tapestries lining the walls. There was no doubt this was where the Red Death resided. Astrid and Hiccup expertly immobilized a pair of patrolling guards and strode past the corridor, standing at attention, their eyes taking in every detail. The Red Death was a curvaceous woman who remained mysterious - or maybe didn’t dare to venture very far into her own den for fear of upstarts wishing to challenge her. Her meals were brought to her rooms and only a few select advisors entered her chambers. The guest rooms were cleared and the next day Hiccup and Astrid were part of the crew that helped set up Krogan’s rooms.

The meeting with Krogan was to take place in a ‘neutral’ room, sparsely furnished to show the absence of traps and with a big table. Only a few guards, two from the Red Death and two from Krogan would guard the entrance to the room to avoid anyone else hearing their plans. The two guards would probably be of the Red Death’s few advisors she allowed in her chambers. Hiccup and Astrid had identified four. So two of them would probably be in the meeting between the two leaders.

Krogan arrived the day afterwards with ten generals. Astrid peered over one of the ledges, laying on her stomach, her hood pulled far over her face to ensure no one saw her even if they looked up. They looked tired, and one of the Red Death’s close advisors escorted them to the southern caves.

“Krogan,” the Red Death welcomed him with a pleasant, deep voice. “A pleasure to meet with you in person again.”

Krogan grunted and inclined his head.

“How go the preparations to move?” he asked abruptly. The Red Death let out a soft laugh.

“Straight to the point,” she noticed keenly. “They are going well. Is everything going as planned on your front?”

“Berk sent in reinforcements,” Krogan said flatly. “It is nothing we can’t handle, but with the soldiers we have Drago wishes to act sooner than we planned.” The Red Death said nothing for a minute.

“With your soldiers helping my Dragons fall into place we should be able to be ready,” she acquiesced. “Of course, such a decision will cost you.”

“Deal,” Krogan agreed. “We’ll need you to move in four weeks' time,” Krogan said as he shook the Red Death’s hand.

“Four weeks?” she asked incredulously.

“Four weeks,” Krogan repeated sternly.

“Very well,” the Red Death acceded. One of her guards at the end of the table shifted.

Astrid tugged Hiccup’s tunic lightly. “Four weeks isn't enough time for us to get back to Berk and formulate a counter attack,” she hissed urgently.

“I know,” Hiccup agreed, frowning. Astrid cocked her head to one side as she studied him. What are we going to do? She asked silently. His eyebrow rose in contemplation. “If we need more time, I guess we’ll have to slow them down,” he said thoughtfully.

“You mean, killing Krogan, laming all the horses, burning the wagons and provisions, or blowing up the weapons and their base?” Astrid asked sardonically, a gleam in her eye at the prospect of battle.

“From what we’ve seen, the Dragons aren’t exactly feeling very loyal to Drago. The only real connection between him and the Dragons is the Red Death, who is in kahoots with Krogan.”

“So, no Red Death . . .” Astrid nodded, catching his drift.

“. . . no ambush,” Hiccup finished. “Yeah.”

“Well, great. We just need to incapacitate the leader of the Dragons in this den full of hundreds if not thousands of highly dangerous individuals. Easy. How do we do that?”

“We can’t fight off all of them, so we’ll need a diversion,” Hiccup said, a grin spreading across his face as he met her eye. A smile grew on her face in answer as she played along for dramatic effect.

“Oh?” Astrid asked coyly. “And what do you propose?”

“What was that idea about blowing up their transportation and provisions?” Hiccup asked innocently.

.oOo.

The Dragons and Krogan’s generals would be put to work the following day and the caves would be too swarmed with soldiers to set up any traps, so they had to act that night.

“It has been forever since we’ve done this,” Astrid said, biting back a smile.

“Do you remember how furious Gobber was when we singed his eyebrows that one time?” Hiccup nudged her.

“How could I forget the whack of his staff during our extra training,” Astrid shook her head. “I swear it hurt to breathe for days. But now I can beat almost anyone with just a staff.”

“Okay,” he puffed, standing up to stretch his back and looking at his work with a satisfied smirk. “That should be the last of them.”

“I’m pretty sure this is a record of ours,” Astrid groaned quietly. “I don’t think I’ve set more traps in four hours in my entire life.”

“You’ll be able to hit all of them, right?” Hiccup checked.

“Of course,” she assured him. “I’ll definitely be able to make it outside before Krogan.”

“What I want to know,” she continued, “is when did you get so good at this? I don’t remember you being so eager to cause this kind of destruction since we were seventeen.”

“Maybe I missed this,” Hiccup shrugged.

“You’re way too confident to have supposedly just resumed pranking after five years,” Astrid accused him gently. “Should I be worried?”

“Not unless you’re related to my uncle,” Hiccup assured her. Astrid sniggered.

“I almost feel bad for Snotlout,” she shook her head.

The plan was to take place during a meal, which was when most Dragons would be in the cavern that served as a mess hall. They would start an explosion right outside the cavern and feign a coup that Hiccup had overheard plans about. They hadn’t been able to glean much more information surrounding it, as Kingstail was a popular and shrewd Dragon; it was hard to eavesdrop on his plans. However, there were at least a couple Dragons who were waiting for an unknown signal. They would lead the attack and send the hall into chaos. Kingstail might try to stop them or take advantage of the situation; either way, they didn’t care. Hiccup would stay in the mess hall and try to target the Red Death while Astrid exploded a few entrances to barricade the Dragons in and make it harder for them to exit the den, plus their wagons and supplies to prevent them from having the resources to attack Berk. Krogan would also try to make a run for it, so with most of the extra entrances collapsed, he’d run into Astrid, who would overtake him and bring him back to the Berk palace to interrogate him.

“You probably don’t have to take the Red Death on directly, you know,” Astrid said hesitantly. “What’s more important is that you make the mess hall such chaos Krogan will want to leave rather than help and you can escape.” Hiccup turned to look at her.

“I can handle myself in there,” he assured her. “It isn’t my first brawl, you know.” Astrid winced.

“I need you more than alive; I need you well enough to ride back to Berk with a dangerous prisoner,” she said firmly. “It took weeks for you to move properly after those brawls.”

“Fine,” Hiccup huffed. “Getting out of there is my priority. But what about you? How are you going to take on Krogan?”

“I’ll coat my blades in Speed Stinger venom,” she shrugged. She had never used the concoction before, but had heard about it from the legendary healer Gothi and in history books. Even a few drops were enough to paralyze a fully grown man for a couple hours. As long as she managed one slice on Drago’s general, he would freeze immediately for long enough to tie him up securely.

The traps were a few tripwires connected to torches along the walls that would set piles of the flammable gel on fire, and a couple of gourds of the explosive gas by the entrance. If they failed, Hiccup had found a few weak spots in the rock where some of the Dragons had piled boulders themselves to give themselves more cover. Astrid could simply nudge the weak spot and tumble the rocks manually, trapping the Dragons inside.

“Did you pack our bags?” she checked. Hiccup nodded. He had carefully bundled the samples of substances he wanted to bring back to Berk in packs, along with their blankets and had retrieved their horses, getting them saddled and waiting by the entrance in the cove.

“We’ve done as much as we can, Astrid,” he said reassuringly. “You can stop worrying.” Astrid cast him a dark look and he bit back a laugh.

“I can’t believe we just spontaneously decided to assassinate the Red Death and capture Drago’s general,” she said drily.

“Never a dull moment with the two of us,” Hiccup smiled.

“Breakfast will be in about twenty minutes,” Astrid observed. “So we should get to our positions. Be careful,” she warned him as she began to walk away.

.oOo.

When Fanghook sauntered to breakfast early for once, he didn’t notice the gleeful eyes watching him from the corner. A few more of his comrades made their way down quickly, drawn first by their need for the latrines, then by the tantalizing smell of food. They helped themselves from the pots and platters on the main table. Krogan’s men were sitting at the head table like the good little soldiers they were. He scoffed and jeered at them with his friends. They were going to have to follow those foreigner’s orders and they would be expecting hardworking minions, so he had no choice but to ridicule them as much as he could now before they exhausted him. Who cared about stupid soldier formations? Fanghook excelled at ducking out of the fight whenever it came to confrontation and holding a knife to a pretty woman’s neck and forcing his opponents to surrender. What was the point of fighting next to a buddy who’d kill him as soon as he had enough spoils to make it worthwhile? Why should he save a comrade when less people meant a greater share of the prize? Soldiers with ideas of conquering made no sense.

The Red Death made her way to the breakfast table, surprisingly enough. He supposed it was because of the Krogan general. She didn’t want to seem unorganized or weak in front of him. He scoffed again. Women were nothing but weak, and it was so typical of a woman Red Death to team up with some conquering bastard like Drago to keep the Dragons satisfied. He couldn’t wait for Kingstail to take her down.

Fanghook was on his second bowl of stew when a loud boom sounded, filling the cafeteria with green gas which burst into flames. He jumped up, his short sword already drawn. Fanghook may have never learned to read or figure or even hold a meaningful conversation, but he was well versed in the lifestyle of stab first, think later and that had kept him alive as long as he had. Everyone’s heads snapped toward the flash of fire and coughed in the wake of smoke.

“THE SIGNAL!!!” someone from the midst of the smoke bellowed. Fanghook started. The signal? Had Kingstail set this up?

“THE SIGNAL!!!!” another voice roared. “Go, Go, Go!” Fanghook sprang into action.

“Come on, boys,” he shouted. They followed him without question.

“What’s happening?” one of them asked.

“We’re not gonna let these soldiers boss us around!” Fanghook cried. “Time to put someone else in charge!” Plenty of people drew weapons, too and leapt over tables to follow him. Someone stepped in front of Fanghook and he struck him down easily. The Dragon’s friend cried out in outrage and leapt onto one of Fanghook’s comrades. Now it was just a cacophony of petty squabbles resulting in blood. Some people targeted others they had grudges against and others swung their knives for the fun of it. Some were trying to stop the brawl but they didn’t understand that this was no brawl, but a rebellion. A slim figure streaked past him, aiming for the Red Death’s table. Explosions from farther away sounded, not that Fanghook cared as he roared in pain at someone’s knife in his shoulder. He threw himself into the fray, bloodlust taking over as he punched and grappled and swung whatever blade he could get his hands on, not noticing the absence of a certain general from the scene or the Red Death’s whereabouts.

.oOo.

In the instant before the mess hall exploded, Astrid was gripped by an all consuming fear that they had misjudged the situation severely. Maybe they shouldn’t have pushed their plan into action in the morning, with all the Dragons still waking up. But then one Dragon drew his sword and after that, everything took care of itself. She turned from the scene and sprinted to the nearest exit. So the explosive gas they had used was quite strong. She set the closed gourd of gas covered in the gel on fire and backed away, turning to see if this explosion was just as strong.

Reaching the two north entrances, she slipped into the stables, her torch aggravating the horses and opened the stalls and doors, chasing them out of the barn, yelling loudly and waving the fire around. She waited a minute to make sure none of them were close enough to be harmed before turning to the wagons, soaked in that very useful flammable smelly fluid. She targeted the wagons filled with weapons first, then the ones with healing supplies and food, snagging a piece of bread and stuffing it into her mouth before throwing her torch straight into the wagon.

The caves were full of Dragons running to and fro, some confused, others fighting. None of them took much notice of her. Someone swung a fist and she dodged before flooring him with a well aimed kick. She burst out into the coves and blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight. She hid herself by the exit and removed her axe. She found herself frowning at the slight residue the Speed Stinger venom left on the metal’s surface, marring the shine and care she took of her blade, but Krogan was an experienced fighter, and if it looked like she didn’t know how to take care of a weapon, he might guess she didn’t know how to handle one, either.

She barely had time to stabilize her breathing before Krogan’s tall frame made its way outside. Astrid’s heart sped up but she forced herself to breathe evenly. He was hardly the first opponent she had ever fought. He began to climb the pathway up to the opening of rock that led out of the cove. She waited until he was close before jumping out of the brush with a fierce yell, aiming for his fingers. He yanked his hand away with enviable reflexes and managed to keep his balance, but Astrid stood above him on higher ground and with stabler footing.

“You,” snarled Krogan.

“You’re coming with me,” Astrid said with her deep voice. He scoffed.

“I think not,” he replied. “You no longer have much use for me or Drago. You are unorganized and have no respect for authority. Plus, some idiot blew up the wagons and provisions. Drago will cease trying to allow you Dragons your own authority and conquer you easily.”

“I’m the idiot who blew up the supplies,” Astrid said, her voice steely, “And you’re coming with me. To the Berk palace.” She quickly removed her hood and pulled it over her head before she could blink, tossing it away from her. Her hair was pulled back into a tight braid and tucked into her shirt, plus she had carefully applied smudges to her face to alter her features and make them more masculine. Krogan’s eyes sharpened into slits. He took out a long handled axe with a jagged axehead on one side and smirked arrogantly at her. Astrid lifted her chin and hefted her own weapon before lunging forward, aiming for his exposed arms. He dodged easily, but Astrid did not press further. She had good ground and there was no other exit out of the coves. She wouldn’t give him the chance to slip around her and escape.

His eyes narrowed at her and he leapt at her, swinging his axe. Wow, his legs were freakishly strong and fast. She dodged to the side, avoiding the sweep of his longer axe. She brought her own weapon up and slashed at him, not moving to the side to lend him enough room to escape.

“You’re not bad,” he taunted. Astrid smiled tightly, acknowledging the compliment but not letting it detract from her focus. A flash of annoyance crossed his face at her lack of response, and she bit back a smile.

She had a small knife by her side, also coated with the Speed Stinger Venom. If she were able to get close to him she could slice him. Or, she could distract him with an offensive attack with her axe and throw the knife, hoping to cut him. She was a great shot with a knife, but Krogan was powerful and strong. She wasn’t sure she’d actually be able to hit him. And if she missed, there would be no way to retrieve her knife. I just need a slice, she told herself as she moved to strike again. She didn’t need to kill him or make him yield or even draw first blood, although that was preferable. She swung again and he jumped out of the way. She swung around to block him from slipping between her and the opening. He relied the most on his strong legs, reaching ungodly heights and if Astrid ducked he’d probably be able to jump over her, although his swings with his axe were arm-shatteringly strong. His heavy cloak was a bit of a hindrance to him, but he was good enough that it wasn’t a weakness Astrid would be able to utilize.

She made to aim a swipe at his legs, crouching down low enough for, say, a certain opponent to jump over her. He took the bait, launching himself over her. She ignored the rush of fear as he sailed over her, and twisted quickly, drawing her smaller blade and slicing deeply along his unprotected calf. He bellowed, more out of arrogant fury than pain as he landed. He stood to face her but froze before he could completely straighten. Astrid smiled grimly at the effective work of the Speed Stinger venom. She knocked him over with her foot, delighting in the way he toppled over helplessly. Stormfly trotted over as Astrid whistled and Astrid unwound the rope from her horse’s hidden saddle.

“Hey, girl,” she greeted her mare. “Did you have a nice time roaming these plains?” Stormfly’s eyes twinkled at her. “I missed you, too,” she smiled, stroking the horse’s soft nose. “I’m going to put this on you now,” she gestured to the saddle and Stormfly stood obediently still.

Astrid made quick work of Stormfly’s saddle, then called Toothless over and readied him for Hiccup, too, casting a nervous glance back at the caves. She tied Krogan’s hands and legs securely, signaling Stormfly to kneel. She slung him over the saddle, cooing as her strong, beautiful mare shifted under the weight.

Ten minutes later, Hiccup still hadn’t come out. She inspected Toothless’s saddle bags one more time again. They had brought out the samples of the substances to bring back to Berk the night they had set the traps, not wanting to risk one of them being poisoned or paralyzed if the bottles broke. She cast a glance at her prisoner. He would not be able to move for a couple hours or so but did she want to keep him conscious? Should she knock him out now or wait for Hiccup to get back and subdue Krogan just as they began riding again?

Toothless’s ear perked forward and Astrid wanted to sag in relief. She saw Hiccup a few minutes after, climbing out of the cove and taking a moment to rest his hands on his knees and catch his breath before straightening up to address them.

“Hiccup-” she said, concerned. He waved her off.

“I’m fine,” he assured her. “It was just a hard fight, but it’s fine.” She eyed him suspiciously as he hauled himself into Toothless’s saddle with a pained grunt. “I’m good,” he insisted when he caught sight of her face. She arched an eyebrow.

“Okay,” she said disbelievingly. He clicked his tongue, signaling his stallion into a trot and Astrid turned and whacked the side of Krogan’s head with the flat of her axe. Hiccup winced. She turned to him, a wide smile on her face. Hitting the General had felt good.

Hiccup didn’t have any cuts on him but his breathing was slightly shallower than normal and a few times she had caught him gingerly holding his side between breaks. The ride back to the Berk Palace was going to take two weeks with the addition of Krogan and they wanted to avoid towns near Berk’s borders in case Krogan escaped and tried to make it back to Drago.

Maybe they should have stolen more healing supplies, Astrid worried. They had plenty of bandages and a few herbs for poultices if they needed them, although if there was a serious wound they’d have to restock at one of the cities.

“Let me look at you,” she decided as they dismounted for the night. Hiccup’s head snapped round to look at her.

“What?”

“You’re clearly hurt,” he glared at him. “Don’t try to deny it. I won’t let you. So let me look at how bad it is before I fuss over you as punishment.” He rolled his eyes.

“I swear you’re like a mother dragon,” he muttered. She cuffed him around the head and he snickered before removing his shirt.

He had bruises lining his torso from what looked like grappling and a few kicks.

“What were you doing?” she asked incredulously.

“Uh… fighting.” Hiccup responded. He scratched the back of his head. “She was a really good fighter, but better with long range and I had a few explosives left.

“Is she?”

“Dead.” Astrid nodded. “Good job.” She knew he hated killing, knew it haunted him at night but the Red Death was just too dangerous to be kept alive, and they wouldn’t have been able to restrain two powerful prisoners. She gave him an encouraging smile. You did the right thing. Her hands automatically began tracing his old scars and he sucked in a breath, moving his head closer to hers just slightly. She began to tilt it upwards when Stormfly snorted and Astrid remembered the prisoner just sitting there watching them.

“Uh- um,” she stammered. “Great. We actually - we should have a poultice for the bruises that you can use.” Hiccup looked adorably confused and put out at her pulling back before his brain caught up and he scowled.

Well, now Astrid was sure she didn’t have to worry about Hiccup being accidentally too nice.

It was stupid how much Krogan got in the way. It had been weeks since Hiccup and Astrid had had to watch themselves around each other, and all of a sudden stolen kisses or light flirtations that had so easily become part of their routine had to be cut out in front of their audience, leaving them embarrassingly off balance. And the prisoner was so quiet that they’d forget he was there at times. Hiccup would stumble upon her name or Astrid would lean too close before they remembered the third party. It was dangerous. And Astrid found herself cranky without Hiccup’s soothing affections.

This is how it’s going to be, she told herself. For a couple more years at least.

That didn’t mean she had to like it, though.

Sometimes, they let pesky urges get the better of them and did irresponsible things. Astrid was chopping up an old dead tree with her axe (cringing all the while; the blacksmith was going to kill her when he saw her weapon) for firewood when she heard a rustle behind her. She immediately snapped to high alert, hefting her axe in front of her.

“Who’s there?” she barked.

“Hey, it’s just me,” a nasally voice assured her as a figure slipped out from behind a trunk, his hands in front of him placatingly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” Astrid let out a breath and loosened her grip on her axe.

“Hiccup. Is everything okay?” she asked concernedly.

“The General is properly secured; I just checked him,” he assured her. “I just needed a little break - and to do this.” He cupped her face and kissed her. Astrid almost dropped her axe at his forwardness. They shouldn’t - they shouldn’t … something. But oh, she thought as her hands slid up his shoulders and he pinned her against the tree, maybe they could spend a few moments …

“You need to go back,” Astrid insisted after they had lost track of time. “It’s too suspicious. You were only supposed to be gone long enough to relieve yourself; that doesn’t take too long.” Hiccup grumbled.

“He’s awful company.”

“He has valuable information you could try to get out of him.”

“Mmm. Fine. There is that.”

“Go now. He’ll know exactly what happened if we both come back together. And fix your tunic; it’s rumpled.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Um, and your hair,” Hiccup pointed. She touched her braid and swore. He chuckled nervously.

“I’ll be going now. See you soon, Hofferson.”

She arrived at camp half an hour later, her hair rebraided and firewood in tow. At one point Hiccup even accidentally called her by her real name.

“What did you say?” Astrid asked, trying to channel a proud knight being upset they were called a woman’s name.

“Astor, of course. What do you think I said?” Hiccup asked smoothly. She shook her head internally. She just hoped Krogan hadn’t caught the slip up. He looked like he was sleeping. Even if he wasn’t, there was no need to be paying attention to them. They were fine.

“I can’t believe you did that!” she hissed at him when they switched night shifts.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized groggily.

“We can’t risk sneaking off again,” Astrid decided. Hiccup acquiesced.

Never mind that she instigated the rest of the times they snuck off for the rest of the journey.

.oOo.

They arrived at the Berk Palace at last, grimy and sore but triumphant, Krogan handcuffed and blindfolded on the pony they had managed to buy a couple days back. The guards at the gate were waiting for them and jumped into action as Hiccup pushed his hair back and gave them a tired smile.

“Your Highness. Sir Hofferson,” they greeted, sneaking glances at the prisoner behind them.

“Would someone please notify the King of his son’s arrival?” Astrid prompted them as they gaped, unmoving as the three travelers passed through the gates. The guards snapped back to attention, one bellowing for a page boy.

The outer courtyards were as busy as ever, if a little more serious than they had been before they had left. It had been more than a month since Astrid had initially come for the Prince. They wove through the crowds that halted and stared at them as they made their way to the Eastern Entrance, a smaller door where the King usually welcomed close friends or officials on important business. Squires rushed to help the knights dismount from their steeds.

“Don’t take him down,” Astrid instructed, nodding to Krogan. “He’ll be easier to contain the way he is.” The squires nodded in understanding.

“Of course, Sir,” one assured her.

“Henry!” the King boomed as he appeared. He noticed Astrid and raised an eyebrow in surprise before shaking his head and muttering something that sounded like ‘should have known’ under his breath. “My dear Astor,” he greeted her cordially. Astrid bowed deeply.

“Your Majesty,” she returned. “I accompanied Hiccup on his mission without your permission.” King Stoick waved his hand.

“No matter,” he chuckled. “You two don’t seem to be able to be separated for more than a few months, and I can hardly begrudge your good influence on him.” Behind him, Hiccup blushed and grinned at Astrid, who fought not to look as if she wasn’t focusing on the King.

“The Dragons won’t be a problem, and we brought Drago’s General back to interrogate, sir,” Hiccup informed his father. The King smiled and patted his son on his back.

“Better than I could have hoped,” he praised. Hiccup beamed. “I’ll call a council meeting. You two should rest and recuperate. Give me your reports in the morning.” He led Hiccup into the palace with a hand on his back and looked over his shoulder at Astrid. “I believe your previous rooms are empty, Astor, if you’d like them.”

“I would be honored, Your Majesty,” Astrid bowed again.

The bath tub was big enough to lay down in entirely and full of scalding hot water. She groaned as her back muscles began to relax. Riding in the saddle while keeping a keen eye on Krogan and pretending not to notice the glances Hiccup kept stealing at her kept her back rigid and it was a relief to slump in the water. She had instructed the servants not to bother her, and took longer than she normally did washing herself, thoroughly wringing out her hair and skipping around in clean clothes before braiding it back in a crown and adding chain mail with a hood to her ensemble for dinner. They would be eating publicly, so one was supposed to dress finely, but it was disrespectful to wear a hat while eating, so the hood of chain mail would have to do. She was quite reluctant to cut her hair; she didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to keep up the pretense as Sir Hofferson. She hadn’t exactly discussed such things with her parents, having avoided them after Hiccup’s arrival and then suddenly riding off after him. They would probably be worried sick. She had written them the night she had left with the Prince, citing that she was on a mission and would be unable to reach them for a while, but there would certainly be Helheim to pay with her mother.

Dinner was delicious as always. She was invited to dine privately with the Royal Family so she was not bombarded with questions about her mission. King Stoick did not ask many questions concerning what they had done, only of the journey and their health.

“The council will meet in a few days, and you two will be rewarded for your bravery and hard work,” he told them kindly. He turned to Astrid.

“I can invite your father, if you so wish,” he offered. Astrid inclined her head to him gratefully.

“Thank you, Your Majesty. I would be honored to have my father in attendance.”

She retreated to her rooms and wrote down a comprehensive report of the past month, recounting the tales from the bars, the locations of the Dragon’s Den entrances, their weapons and fighting techniques as well as their numbers. She wrote of Hiccup’s bravery and, with a little pride, of her defeating Krogan. Satisfied she had all the details saved so she wouldn’t forget before submitting the report, she headed off to bed to catch a good night’s sleep.

Freya bless the one who had invented mattresses.

She was awakened a few hours later by a knock at the door. It could only be one person who knocked like that - but what was he doing at such an ungodly hour? The last stolen moment they’d had together flashed through her mind - she had pushed him up against the stable walls in the barn they had bought the new pony from and kissed him thoroughly until he was dazed before heading back to their horses as the prisoner. Astrid’s heart leapt into her throat as he tentatively knocked again. She pulled the door open a crack and grinned at him. He beamed back and she ushered him in, trying to shush the growing giggles in the back of her throat. She left him in the main room and ran to her dressing chambers, grabbing her robe’s large sash and belting it securely around her waist to give herself a figure and fluffing her hair absentmindedly. She was being absolutely ridiculous and wholly improper, but what else was one to do when the Crown Prince snuck out to see her at night?

“What are you even doing here?” she asked sternly because she had to have some principles. “Whatever you need, could it not wait til tomorrow?” Hiccup shook his head sheepishly, a shy smile on his face.

“You’ll be Sir Hofferson come morning,” he said. “I wanted to speak to Astrid.”

That wasn’t - that wasn’t romantic at all, Astrid huffed. Even so, she was glad the room was dark with dimly lit candles so he could gauge the color of her cheeks properly.

“Did you need to deliver your love poem in person?” she asked teasingly. Hiccup rolled his eyes.

“No. Unless-” he stepped forward, clasping her hand and bent down on one knee dramatically. “Do you wish for me to serenade you?”

“No-”

“My lady,” he declared, interrupting her with a mischievous light in his eye. “The glow of the moonlight dances upon thy flawless skin, whilst the candlelight sets thy locks afire.”

“Hiccup-”

“To Valhalla every mortal aspires but next to thee’s angelic form how could one ever wish to go higher?” Astrid ripped her hand out of his.

“That rhymed,” she accused him.

“That it did,” Hiccup laughed at her blatant colored cheeks.

“There’s no way you made that up on the spot,” Astrid said, incredulous. “How long have you had those verses up your sleeve?” Now it was his turn to blush.

“I didn’t - it wasn’t - I - not long,” he sputtered. He sighed. “I saw it in a book Mom was reading.” Astrid’s hands flew to cover her mouth.

“The Queen reads those things?” she dared to inquire.

“How else do you think my father’s speeches end up so flowery?” Astrid shook her head. She’d never thought about it - it didn’t matter.

“You can’t sneak off to see me every night,” she told him regretfully. “Someone would probably notice - and we can’t have that. Not to mention you would ruin my virtue even if we did nothing but talk.” Hiccup sighed.

“I have become spoilt with your presence, I’m afraid,” he admitted. “I find myself disliking not being able to call you Astrid all the time. And after this, you might go back to your estate. I’ll have to take on more duties, be it fighting or ruling as well as trying to change the laws. I don’t know when we’ll see each other again. I don’t want you to leave.” Astrid wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest.”

“It’s not decided yet,” she tried to reassure him. “You may see me more often than you think.”

“It is stupid to start missing something before it’s gone,” scoffed Hiccup.

“Maybe, yes, but understandable,” Astrid countered. 

“I just want to steal a few more moments with you before we have to go back to pretending you’re just my friend,” Hiccup confessed.

“Of course,” Astrid promised. “You can have me for a little while longer.”

.oOo.

Astrid was called into the Council Room the day the council arrived. She and the Prince were sent to the dungeons to retrieve the prisoner they had captured and prove his identity to the council.

“Long time no see,” Hiccup greeted the general as the jailor took out his keys. “Now we’re just going to ask you some questions, and it’ll do you good to answer as many of them as they ask. Astrid stepped inside the cell and hauled Krogan up. He groaned at the change in position and Astrid gave him a moment to recover before tying a blindfold around his eyes and setting off at a steady walk through the castle. Hiccup took up his other side, a firm grip around the prisoner’s arms. He had been fed, so he wasn’t too weak to fight back, but he kept their pace without complaint and made no move to fight against them. Was playing docile a strategy of his, Astrid wondered.

The guards to the King’s Council opened the doors for them. The King and Queen sat in the middle of the room, five council members on each side and eight additional knights and lords were present. They sat in extravagant chairs on one side of a long wooden table that spanned the side of the room. Often, the table was covered in maps and war diagrams, but those had been removed to hide any information from Krogan should he escape. The King also had multiple rooms he held council in; the battle plans were probably in another one.

The King’s Council consisted of the King, his Queen, and their closest confidantes along with Berkian Elders who could not be taken off the council, only resign from it when they saw fit. Gothi, a great great ancestor of the King that was hardly ever awake, dozed in the far left corner, while Mildew sat right next to Duke Spitelout on King Stoick’s right. Lord DeRange, another member of the Council sat on the other side of Lord Mildew, his son sitting next to him with a sharp grin on his face. Lords Svenson and Meathead and Thuggory were also present, as well as Captain Throk of the Berk Guard. Some of the other lords she did not recognize on sight but would probably remember them when she heard their names. A few knights she’d worked with including Sir Alvin and Sir Eret - now Captain Eret - sat around the table gazing interestedly at the man held between her and Hiccup.

“General Krogan,” King Stoick greeted the prisoner. “A pleasure to meet you in person.” Krogan smiled insidiously.

“My master looks forward to beating you on the battlefield,” Krogan returned. Some of the lords muttered and scowled at his impertinence.

“I’m quite sure that’s not going to happen,” the King narrowed his eyes. “But we could always discuss accommodations to be made for you or your family following the battle in exchange for something. Krogan remained silent.

“Why did Drago combine forces with the Dragons?” King Stoick asked. Krogan sneered.

“He won’t,” he said loftily. “The Dragons were an unorganized force that Drago wished to use in one of his plans, but due to unforeseen circumstances, they were cut from the plan.”

“Very well,” the King said, pleased that the conversation appeared to be going somewhere. “Is there anything else you’d like to tell us?”

“I do believe I could tell you something,” Krogan said smoothly despite the grime still on his face and his hands behind his back. A couple of lords shifted forward eagerly.

“The number of soldiers Drago has?�� one of them asked.

“Drago’s plan?” speculated another.

“Where is Drago?” King Stoick asked. The General scoffed

“Drago doesn’t employ traitors,” he sneered. “But the information I have pertains more to your own affairs. You have an imposter in your midst,” the dark skinned man declared dramatically. The effect around the room was instantaneous. Astrid stiffened and her face drained of color as she cast her gaze around the room. A traitor? In the council? Each man immediately glared at his neighbor suspiciously. The room felt like it was about to explode into a brawl but Krogan cut them off with an arrogant laugh.

“Who?” demanded King Stoick. Astrid cast a worried glance at Hiccup, her hand subtly moving towards her axe to be unslung if whoever-the-imposter-was decided to make a run for it. Then to Astrid’s shock, the prisoner jutted his chin at her. Gasps sounded around the room and  Hiccup’s eyes widened in panic.

“Impossible,” Lord Mulch said stoutly. Astrid swallowed around a lump in her throat.

“Sir Hofferson is an honorable knight of mine and completely loyal to the crown,” King Stoick said in a low voice.

“You might be surprised,” Krogan sneered. “He wasn’t able to hide everything on the ride back; your so-called noble knight is a wench!” Astrid couldn’t stop herself from jerking back. Krogan suddenly lunged at her, dragging a cry of surprise from Hiccup.

“I’ll show you!” he shouted, his arms snapping his restraints. They must have been worn down while in the dungeon. She should have checked them before bringing him here instead of being distracted.

“Astrid!” her father cried desperately before clapping a hand over his mouth in horror. The General’s hands reached her helmet. Astrid twisted in an effort to escape his hold but he yanked the protective armor off her head. Her hair sprung into her face and blinded her as if in retaliation for her stuffing it into her helmet that morning.

She heard the sharp inhales of fury as she scraped her locks away from her face and Hiccup tackled Krogan to the floor. The King was blinking as if he couldn’t believe his eyes and the Queen had a surprised hand pressed to her mouth - although she looked more calm than upset.

“Bring me a new pair of manacles,” Hiccup ordered sternly but no one took their eyes off of Astrid.

“Astrid?” Duke Jorgenson asked dangerously. Astrid saw her father bow his head in shame and she wasn’t sure if it was for the instinctive slip of her name or her being found out.

“Who is this Astrid?” Lord DeRange frowned suspiciously.

“She’s my daughter,” Astrid’s father spoke up. The council swiveled to stare at him.

“Then who is Astor Hofferson?” asked Lord Bucket.

“No one,” Father replied. Astrid couldn’t help the pang in her chest at that. Yes, Astor was a fictitious name for her, but he - she - wasn’t nothing.

“I am Astor Hofferson,” Astrid said loudly. The Duke scowled fiercely at her and Lord Mildew muttered something derisive under his breath. “It is simply another name for me,” she went on. “It is I who has trained and fought and been knighted with the highest marks in the initiation. I who served in the Berk Guard for a year and defeated the Den of Dragons alongside our Crown Prince.” Hiccup, who had somehow managed to take Krogan’s belt and fasten it around the would-be attacker's wrists, stood up and gave her an encouraging smile.

“But you’re a lady,” protested a lord next to Captain Throk, whose own face was unreadable.

“Yes, I am a lady,” she said defiantly, focusing on Duke Spitelout’s scowl rather than her father’s panic or Hiccup’s pride. “But I am also one of the best knights in the kingdom and I will not stop serving the inhabitants of Berk. I have still helped the Prince bring in our most valuable prisoner of war. I have still fought and bled and proved myself capable of battle, and the discovery of my gender does not change any of that. I have not lied about anything but this, and have let others get to know me with my warrior’s spirit before they dismissed me due to poor misconceptions about my sex.”

“It’s blasphemous,” Lord Mildew sneered, the Duke shaking his head alongside him in agreement.

“There are truly no rules explicitly against it,” Astrid countered. “It is just not done. It has been done now.”

“We could never accept her as a pure lady,” Mildew protested. “Our women are to be models of chastity and decorum. She has been sullied by cavorting with lads who could not help themselves, and no one to stop her wantonness in seducing them. No one would marry her.”

“I will,” Hiccup spoke up. Astrid turned to him, a protest on her lips reflexively. “I have witnessed her since the beginning of her deception and can attest to the entirely modest attitude she has shown around my peers. She never entered while we were bathing or even attended the trips to drink and bed pretty peasants. She has behaved with the utmost modesty allowed for her situation and even if all the other lords were foolish enough to not desire her, I have fallen in love with her.” He shot Lord Mildew a dangerous glare as the man opened his mouth. The crotchety old lord shut it obediently like a chastened dog. “I have fallen in love with her wisdom, her battle prowess, her bravery, and lastly, her dedication and her beauty.” He stared the lords in the eyes defiantly. “From before I knew her true identity - and I’ve known for years -” cries of outrage followed his declaration as even the King’s jaw dropped at the omission. “I have known that she was the most capable of our peers. If it hadn’t been for her, I wouldn’t have been able to pass Squire training.” More cries of outrage followed his admission.

“Father,” Hiccup addressed the King who was glaring at Astrid. “I can think of no better future queen than Astrid. She can comport herself with every grace any other lady can, and can defend both herself and me in any dangerous situation as she has demonstrated for years. She is intimately acquainted with our battle tactics and leadership abilities, having studied from the same tutors as me. If something were to happen, she would still be perfectly able to run the kingdom. She already has practice with her own estate. And I love her,” he added. Stoick stared at him stonily.

“Is she the reason you have been pushing to change the laws around women’s inheritance?” Stoick asked. Lord Mildew practically choked and Astrid found herself wishing he didn’t catch his breath again.

“Yes, Sir,” Hiccup admitted. “She has opened my eyes to the capabilities of our women, if only we let them. Dad, we have a serious war coming up soon and we need as many fighters as we can get to end it quickly.”

“Preposterous!” cried Mildew.

“You dare interrupt your future king?” Hiccup asked venomously. The air stilled. Hiccup walked slowly to the center of the room and gazed into every one of the lords’ faces until they looked away.

“I am the one who will inherit my father’s throne when he is gone,” he said quietly but clearly. “I am the one who will take on the burden of caring for an entire kingdom and endeavoring to do right to all. And I know I will not always succeed. There were countless times I wished to relieve myself of such a burden. But I have accepted it now, and I will embrace my duties to the best of my ability. Women are an integral part of our society. Without them we cannot have heirs or mothers. Why should we disregard them, then? Would anyone here argue that our Queen is not the strongest woman in the land?” Everyone bowed their heads towards the Queen in respect, who beamed upon her son. “I wish for my wife to be equally as magnificent.” It was all Astrid could do not to duck her head in embarrassment but she held it high, focusing on the Queen.

I cannot be you, she said silently. But I can try to be my best as you would. Queen Valka’s face softened a smidge, and she inclined her head ever so softly towards the woman knight.

“But we cannot stand to have a lord who would so gleefully lie to us,” Lord Thuggory said with a predatory gleam in his eye. He was long contemptuous of the large estate the Hoffersons boasted next to his paltry one in comparison. “Who knows what else he might hide from us? He could be feeding our secrets to Drago, for all we know, with his wench in the trenches alongside our generals.” Astrid’s father stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the cold tile.

“The only thing I have lied about is the gender and name of my child,” Sir Hofferson hissed. “My daughter is perfectly adept at running my estate and I taught her enviable skills that many of your sons lacked, but her own discipline and bravery were always hers. I selfishly and cowardly allowed her to continue and expose herself to such dangers because I knew she would overcome them and endure for her family, but I always waited for the day we could cease the deception and bring her back as a lady. My eldest had a wonderful baby boy over a year and a half ago, so we called Astrid back to retake her ladylike mantle. It was never meant to be a lifelong deception.”

“Father,” Astrid interrupted, a mix of feelings in her chest; pride at the acknowledgement of her skills, but also annoyance? Anger? Sadness? At how quickly she had been replaced and forced back into a proper lady. “Trying to pull me back into being your daughter you could marry off would mean it would be a lifelong deception. I don’t want it to be a lifelong deception. I hated being restricted to being just a knight or a lady,” she caught herself looking at the floor and pulled her head back up to face the men surrounding her. “I do wish to be a mother and raise a family,” she said clearly. “But I have found a great love for fighting for this country.” She took a deep breath and forced herself to meet at least three lords’ eyes before continuing. “And I believe it is a great disservice to have to choose between raising a family and protecting one’s  county.

“Can someone take him away?” Hiccup demanded, gesturing to Krogan who had managed to stand himself up and was observing the proceedings with a gleam in his eye. “Your hastiness and distrust are exposing unnecessary information to our enemy. The King nodded to three knights in the room who promptly pulled out proper handcuffs and escorted Krogan quietly out of the room. Astrid took a moment to draw a deep breath and close her eyes. Her contour had been done so carefully and her chainmail newly shined, but all the lords would see was her messy braid, the way she had been caught off guard, and deem it poor presentation. Hiccup reached over to tuck a loose lock of hair behind her eyes. You look beautiful, his eyes assured her. Color rose in her cheeks and she resisted the urge to take all of her hair out to hide behind it and redo it, but she knew such a thing was not done in public. She gave Hiccup a brave smile and nodded at him. She appreciated him fighting for her, but this was something she had to conquer for herself.

“But how could she be a role model for our girls to hold their standards without pretty features?” one lord asked his colleague a little too loudly. Astrid felt Hiccup bristle beside her but spoke calmly.

“I use contour, as a lady does, to disguise my features and make them more masculine,” she said succinctly. The men broke into more murmurs.

“But what about dresses?” Another one demanded. “Such a physique is not made for dresses.”

“I fit dresses just fine,” Astrid retoroted, clenching her jaw in anger. How dare she be quizzed on the fit of her dresses at an impromptu trial. “And should any of you get any misconceptions about my or my sister’s virtue I would be happy to challenge you on behalf of my honor myself. Are you all confident you would win? Lords, you need not worry about my femininity. It is perfectly intact. During the summers, I often shed my armor and joined the weekly tea parties. No one ever suspected me of being anything less than ladylike. If I wash off the contour I use to make me look more masculine, my features are delicate and pretty. I can dance easily in most gowns, and can ride straddle and sidesaddle. But most importantly, I wish to continue to fight as a knight for Berk. I am proof that Berk can have a successful woman knight, and I plead to be allowed to continue to serve my country.

“It goes against our code of ethics to put our women in such danger,” a kinder lord said contemplatively.

“The path of a knight is one I chose and enjoy, Your Lordship,” she answered. “It would be cruel to deprive me of patriotic pride and the defenseless citizens of Berk an upstanding knight just because of her gender.”

“Sir Hofferson has indeed been an invaluable soldier in Berk’s service for years,” Throk said reasonably. “She was the best in her class during training as a squire, and distinguished herself during the knight trials as well as in the years afterwards. It appears she has proven herself more than the average knight does; why should we stop her now?” Astrid’s heart rose with hope and pride at her former captain’s praise.

“My son has vouched repeatedly for her extraordinary influence in motivating him,” the King mused. “I have frequently dined with her personally, and she is respectful and clever. And I have read the reports from his - her superiors and accounts from citizens. All of them paint a fair picture of a chivalrous knight who does not lie, steal, or cheat.”

“Except for the very basic fact of her gender,” sneered Duke Spitelout. The King stroked his beard.

“But the reason for that is understandable,” he decided. “And so of little consequence determining her character.”

“But we still have a war to fight,” another lord tried. “Surely it would stir up unrest to hear that such a high knight has been a mere woman all along. It would lessen morale.”

“Or it might be better to keep her as a well known knight to rally around,” argued a political rival of the previous lord. The rival looked at the King furtively. “While it is too progressive to uproot society for just one woman, we can agree she is exceptional, and as such exceptions could be made if needed.” He wasn’t necessarily happy with Astrid’s revelation or what she wanted to achieve, but with the Prince so firmly in her favor along with Captain Throk and the King’s fondness for her he sensed showing support was the smart political choice, although he wanted to make it an isolated case. The King narrowed his eyes in thought, reading between the lines the same as she and deciding the best course of action.

They could not risk rebellion against them before the war was won by giving women rights the soldiers did not approve of, but Astrid would be damned if she allowed herself to lose her position as a knight. This hadn’t been how she’d planned this at all, but in a way, she was glad it had happened while she still had favorable sway so soon after her accomplishments. The Prince vibrated with excitement, wanting to say something but sensing the wisdom of remaining quiet while his father thought. Her father looked astonished at the turn of events, but also hopeful. Astrid wasn’t sure how much she agreed with her father on her status as a knight. He had never liked her choice, but had also been the one to teach her to fight and figure and enrolled her in Squire’s Training anyway. His support had lessened as of late, but he had originally come to see her rewarded for bringing in a dangerous prisoner of war. She knew if she had been a true boy her father would have been bursting at the seams with pride, but never once had he ever told her he was proud of her for the same things.

“I think,” the King said slowly. “That the woman in front of us here has proved herself to be in every way exceptional. She has proven her warrior capabilities time and time again, as well as proven herself extraordinarily clever, both in her strategies and ability to be … discreet with her gender. And I think she will prove to be extraordinarily beautiful when she wishes - after all, we were all jealous at one point of her handsomeness at a ball, yes?” The Queen chuckled while most of the lords scowled.

“My daughter pouted because she didn’t get to dance with the elusive Sir Hofferson,” Astrid was sure she heard one of them mutter. “Now I’m glad.”

“Therefore, all in favor of granting her immunity or special status?” the King asked, looking around the room.

The Queen and Captain Throk immediately raised their hands, followed by Lord DeRange and his son. Young Captain Eret raised his hand with a jovial smile towards her, and she found one growing in response. Her father raised his hand. Hiccup raised his pointedly, and glared across the room at quite a few other people until another four hands were raised, including Spitlelout’s. The others, Astrid noticed with amusement, were the ones behind on taxes. They must know Hiccup knew, then.

Eleven hands were raised and nine were not. Then Gothi raised hers. Everyone blinked in surprise at her clear eyes as she gave Astrid a toothy smile.The King looked around the room, nodded decisively, and raised his hand as well. Thirteen. Thirteen votes against eight.

“It’s decided then,” the King declared. ”In light of her service to our country and her help in battle, I hereby grant  - er - Sir Astrid Hofferson a lord’s status.” The room gasped. “Astrid Hofferson. You are now free to inherit, write a will, choose your own marriage, vote on council meetings, and fight alongside Berkian soldiers.” Astrid bowed, feeling too awkward to curtsy in pants.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” She turned to the Queen. “And thank you, Your Majesty.” She bowed to Gothi. “And thank you, Elder. Thank you all for letting me continue to fight for our country!” Hiccup let out a triumphant cheer and Astrid couldn’t stop the laugh that fell from her lips, all giddiness and relief.

“Meeting dismissed,” the King boomed. “We will gather again to question the General and reward the two knights at a later date.”

“-Petition to enforce medical tests on squires in Training-”

“-Dad-” Hiccup said, pushing his way through the crowd.

Astrid silently watched her own father pull himself out of his seat and slowly make his way towards her. She wordlessly offered him her arm and he took it, leaning on it heavily as they walked out the throne room.

“I’m sorry, Astrid,” her father apologized as they left. Lords milled around them, some hastening down to tell everyone of the scandal. Astrid stared ahead. ‘It’s okay’ didn’t seem like the right response, but she couldn’t bring herself to hold anything against him.

“It was always going to happen, one way or another,” she said at last. “In a way, I’m glad it’s happened and dealt with for the most part. It was never something that would have stayed hidden forever.” Why did you never want my accomplishments to never see the light of day? Did you not think me worthy of them? She wondered.

“I never wanted you to have to deal with this,” he sighed defeatedly. “The politics, the careful maneuvering, the silent enemies - staying a knight in society means navigating all those things, and I wanted to keep you away from that.”

“I never minded,” Astrid said, her throat thick for some unfathomable reason. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t unfathomable. Maybe she was able to admit things to herself a little easier. “Society among women is much the same - although the silent dangerous games are that much more a part of it. And I don’t like it, but I can do it. I have always been prepared to do it. All I wanted - all I want -” she cut herself off, horrified at the raw emotion in her voice. They were still in the palace’s public halls, for Odin’s sake! Anyone could come along and hear her.

“What do you want, my dear girl?”

“I want you to be proud of me,” Astrid whispered. She felt a hot tear sting its way across the bridge of her nose and hung her head in shame.

“Of course I’m proud of you,” Lord Hofferson coraked. “You’ve accomplished things I could have never dreamed of, you never did what was expected of you, and I love you for it because you are my child.” He pressed a kiss to her messy hair. “I couldn’t be prouder of my Astrid.” She lowered her forehead onto his shoulder and they stood there, not embracing, but soaking in each other’s presence.

“Oh! I hope I’m not intruding -” Astrid immediately lifted her head off her father’s shoulder and frantically smoothed her hair.

“Hiccup! Oh, no, of course not - never - we were just - ahem. We were just finishing up,” she repeated. Her father was watching the proceedings with a decidedly amused expression as Hiccup gave her a soft smile.

“I was hoping I could accompany you to your rooms?” he asked. “So, that … certainly happened in there.” He glanced obviously behind him, indicating the Throne Room a few corridors back.

“Indeed,” Astrid shook her head incredulously. “I cannot believe it ended as well as it did.”

“The nerve of some of those lords,” Hiccup grumbled.

“They shall certainly face raised prices in Hofferson produce,” Astrid’s father added loftily. Hiccup looked delighted. Astrid had learned over the years that Hiccup was concernedly forgiving of all slights to himself, but could get hilariously petty when holding grudges on behalf of someone he cared about. He once picked on a poor stableboy, spreading the horse manure and stepping in it to make it harder to pick up and to replace the straw more often when he’d overheard the boy speaking derogatorily to Toothless (the stallion had tried to bite him) for a whole year until the boy had absolutely begged to be moved despite the superior pay for caring for the Crown Prince’s prize steed. It looked like now Hiccup had found a new set of men to torment on her behalf. They could pull some more pranks, Astrid decided with a small smile. The Dragon’s Den had revived memories of the good old days when they’d torment their instructors weekly, and Astrid found herself missing the thrilling passtime of setting up traps and not getting caught.

“I won’t be able to wear men’s garb to dinner,” Astrid realized. “Word would get around. I need to prove myself to be a girl to those who have heard the rumors.” Her father nodded.

“I shall send for some clothes from home and look into getting you some formal gowns as quickly as possible,” he promised.

“My mother’s seamstress, Nadia, is very skilled and prompt, and she has a friend, Minden, who’s skill and efficiency is equivalent to hers, if you’d wish to get into contact with them,” Hiccup offered. Her father thanked him and Hiccup kindly directed him to her rooms both in the palace and a little out in the city. “In the meantime, you are welcome to dine with us, Astrid,” Hiccup invited her. “My parents will want to question you in earnest now that I’ve declared my intentions towards you, as well as probably congratulate you.” Astrid managed a weak smile in spite of her dread.

“I would be immensely grateful, as I do not yet have the wardrobe to probably make a debut at court,” she admitted. Mother was absolutely going to kill her. Oh, Cami was going to have a field day.

“Well, I shall take leave of you two now to procure you a wardrobe as soon as possible,” Lord Hofferson excused himself. “A father’s work is never done,” he nodded at Hiccup, “You would do well to remember that.” Hiccup’s entire face turned beet red and Astrid scolded with her eyes, mortified. He just looked satisfied at their embarrassment and their comfortability around each other.

“Astrid?” Hiccup asked when they could meet each other’s eyes again. His hand found hers and Astrid did not pull away from his touch.

“Yes?” she asked, bemused as he ran a thumb over her knuckles contemplatively. He took a deep breath.

“If … I was to propose now, would you … accept?” Astrid stopped walking.

“Is this a proposal?” she asked.

“No!” Hiccup assured her. “No, this is me asking permission.” Astrid thought. She thought of the lord’s sneers and Cami’s. She thought of Astoria’s gentle encouragement and her mother’s more aggressive kind. She thought of her father, who was proud of her but tried to pull her out of danger’s way instead of standing behind her and believing she could fight her way through it. She thought of Hiccup, his boisterous attitude, the growth she’d seen in just two months. His support, the smiles on the faces of the King and Queen - the heat of his body and the taste of his lips. He was patient and he was handsome and he loved her and he was asking permission. She thought about what accepting his proposal meant to her - not just being claimed by each other, but promising herself to her country in a way that was scarier than pledging to die for it.

“Yes,” Astrid said. Hiccup’s eyebrows jumped in surprised delight, and he threw his arms around her.

“Oh Thor - really?” he drew back to look in her eyes. Astrid leaned forward to press her lips to his quickly. Anyone walking down the corridors could just take a different path, she decided.

“Yes,” she said again. “Of course I’ll say yes when you ask me.” Hiccup’s face broke into a beautiful grin.

“It should be public, though,” Astrid decided. “For their benefit. We’ve kept everything else so secret, we should start letting Berk know about us.”

“Very well,” he smiled. “We can do that.”

“What should I wear?” asked Astrid. “The future princess of Berk should look her best when she gets engaged.” Like hell was she going to make the mistake of not being impeccably dressed for the event - everything about her was going to be torn to shreds by all the others rejected by Hiccup by default, and she wasn’t going to give more ammunition they didn’t need.

“Mmm,” Hiccup hummed, cocking his head as he examined her. “Blue that brings out your eyes.” Astrid’s eyes jumped up. Mother had actually commissioned such a dress a while ago. It would be perfect, and was up to the latest styles with a comfortable corset and the skirt wide enough to not make her legs feel trapped.

“When will I wear it?” Astrid asked archly, enjoying the discussion. Hiccup’s smile grew more cocky.

“It’s your decision,” he told her. “I’ll propose as soon as I see you in it.” Oh. He shouldn’t have done that. Astrid was going to make him wait - or maybe, wear it immediately. Dammit, she didn’t know when she wanted to wear it. Hiccup’s grin morphed into a fully blown smirk. The bastard. He had known exactly what he was doing.

“Be on your guard, Your Highness,” Astrid’s eyes narrowed at him. “You’ll never guess when I wear it.”

“I’ll always be ready when you are,” he replied smoothly, and bent down to kiss her hand.

Whoever taught Hiccup to say those kinds of things reflexively like that needed to be charged - and thanked. Viggo - she was pretty sure it was Lord Viggo who had handled tutoring Hiccup in additional speech and politics. He had turned the Prince into a dangerous man.

She pulled her hand out of his grasp and brushed her pants self consciously. “I’ll see you at dinner,” she smiled at him. Turning to the last corridor towards her rooms. “Goodbye, Hiccup.”

.oOo.

Her mother arrived at the palace faster than the wind.

“You ran off at us for a month!” she said dangerously. “And then you return and your identity is found out! Thor have mercy on us, young lady! You have sent Berk into a scandal before you even made your debut!” Cami and Astoria arrived a week later bearing more clothes.

“It is even more imperative you make a good impression on your debut,” Mother shook her head before snapping at the maids to get to work.

Four hours later saw Astrid in a light white gown; the color every girl wore to her debut. She was older than most, of course, which had made her hesitate initially at the color, but it made her look sweet and innocent and feminine, and that was exactly what Berk needed to see. Her hair only fell halfway down her back, so her updo could only be so big, but they expertly wove strings of pearls (and in some places, straw) into her hair to give it an elegant updo.

“You look perfect, darling,” Mother said approvingly as Astrid looked at herself in the mirror.

“Not yet - wait,” Astrid insisted, hastening over to her drawers to dig through them. She emerged with her golden hair comb. “Please,” she said, handing it to the maid who had done her hair. “Could you add this?” Astrid’s mother raised an interested eyebrow at the one lone comb in her hair but said nothing.

“It won’t be very visible, miss,” the maid told her apologetically.

“That’s fine,” Astrid assured her. “As long as it’s there.”

Her debut was a rousing success. Sir Jorgenson in particular took an interest in her, much to his father’s consternation. After two dances Astrid couldn’t find herself refusing the Prince swept her away coldly, a scowl on his face.

“You look awfully moody tonight,” Astrid teased him.

“I’m finally able to dance with the most beautiful woman in the room for the first time after years of watching you with others, and what does my idiot cousin do? Try to stake a claim on you.”

“Possessive,” Astrid tutted because she refused to let herself blush. Hiccup ducked his head apologetically.

“Sorry,” he apologized. He spun her elegantly - she was so glad to find he was a good dance partner. It seemed they fit together in every aspect - and pulled her in close by her waist as she returned. “You look absolutely radiant tonight,” he complimented her in a low voice that made her fight not to shiver. “This is my first time seeing you properly dressed up. I can barely breathe.” Astrid was struggling with keeping her own breaths steady, not that she was going to tell him. “I like your hair comb,” he whispered as the dance ended.

She danced with Eret next, who was both delighted and furious at the fact she had been a girl the whole time. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize,” he kept shaking his head. “I can’t believe you never told me! Seriously, you knew my secrets! Oh, everyone’s faces …”

The news of her dual identity was taken pretty smoothly. Or at least, as smoothly as she could expect. She sparred with the soldiers in the mornings with her age-old tunic and pants, her chest bound securely and her hair pulled back into a smart French braid. A few older lords and knights also had deluded themselves into thinking she was a worse fighter now that they knew she was female, so they thought to challenge her. She happily put them in their place. In the evenings, she donned her gowns and jewelry and danced - or, more importantly, established female allies. There were plenty of women who viewed her status as a knight and being politically equivalent to a lord was absolutely blasphemous. Not to mention it was no secret the Prince was enamored with her, so they inevitably deduced that the whole reason for disguising herself as a boy in the first was just to ‘get her claws in the Heir.’ Others, however, were more open to the idea and even impressed at her accomplishments. And how much would you be willing to stand behind me with your family’s influence to acquire these rights and accomplishments for even more women? She asked through her smiles and delicate conversation. ‘Long live the King,’ ‘To good health!’ they’d toast her, nodding delicately in silent answer of her unspoken question. Heather smirked at her from across the room and Astrid dipped her head in acknowledgement. They weren’t friends yet, but they would be soon.

A few days later, she wore the blue dress.

It had been a while since she’d properly enjoyed the power of a beautiful woman in a room full of men. On the battlefield, there was a certain point when opponents were able to recognize their doom in her walk. She had grinned then, feral and covered in blood, and swung her sword. Now, her smile was beautiful, but wide like a particularly satisfied cat as she sauntered down the steps into the ballroom.

Her dress was bright sapphire silk that rustled and shone as she walked. Jewels hung from her neck and ears, but subtly. There was one piece of jewelry she wanted everyone’s eyes on tonight. Her hands had been carefully soaked and scrubbed, her hair was artfully curled and pinned, her axe headed hair comb nestled securely into the intricate updo. Heads turned to watch her but she sought out Hiccup, finding him and sending him her best I-dare-you look. A slow smile spread across his face as he took in her dress, and he gave her an imperceptible nod.

Dinner was eaten first to ensure everything would be present during the dancing and drinking. Before the first man could claim her hand for a dance Hiccup appeared by her side.

“Lady Hofferson,” he said loudly, discreetly drawing everyone’s attention as he led her subtly toward the center of the room.

“Why, of course,” Astrid responded, all concern. “Whatever do you need, Your Highness?” Hiccup bent over her head and Astrid knew the moment clicked for everyone watching. It was all she could do to keep a smirk off her face as the Crown Prince knelt before her..

“My lady,” Hiccup said clearly. “You have held my heart captive for years and now it has simply made you its new home. You have been with me through thick and thin, even back when I was naught but a skinny fishbone, but even then, you believed in me. And I have believed in you through every battle, every fight, and everything else we’ve weathered together. You are wise and kind and clever and so beautiful you take my breath away. You could do me no greater honor than if you accepted my hand in marriage and became my wife.” Mothers of other contendents for Hiccup’s hand gasped in outrage and resignation. Astrid held her right hand over her heart. They had agreed on the proposal being public, but Astrid hadn’t expected such a heartfelt confession, so her response came out more emotional than she’d planned.

“Yes,” she said, shaking her head. She had the strangest urge to laugh and cry at the same time. “Of course,” she said again. Of course she’d say yes. He rose, a triumphant smile on his face as he slid the ring - a beautiful, intricate thing inlaid with small diamonds and sapphires - onto her finger and clasped her left hand. The orchestra struck up as if on command, and Hiccup expertly guided her into a dramatic waltz - her mother’s favorite to dance with father, and Astrid’s favorite by default. It was intimate and close, and neither’s gaze left the other’s faces throughout the entire dance. They didn’t speak. What words were there to describe the rising feeling of rightness, the utter terror of being in front of all these people, the restraint they were showing not immediately locking each other in a passionate embrace.

“It was my mother’s,” Hiccup shared quietly near the end of the waltz, flicking his eyes to her new ring glimmering in the candlelight. “I asked her for one of her rings and she told me to choose. When I saw that one, I knew. I saw you.”

“It’s perfect,” Astrid told him earnestly. “It’s better than I could have ever imagined. It fits perfectly.”

“Good,” Hiccup nodded approvingly. “Mom said it had always been a little big for her, so I hoped it’d still fit you.”

“I have calluses on my fingers,” Astrid told him dryly. “It’s a good thing it was too big for her.” The dance ended but instead of bowing Hiccup bent down and kissed her slowly. The kiss was chaste and sweet and oh-so-aware-of–everyone-watching, but she drank in every second greedily until they parted softly. She smiled up at him through her lashes. They had fully claimed each other in front of the court. There was no dispute about their relationship now. And Astrid felt proud.

Her brother in law swept her up in a congratulatory dance while Hiccup was congratulated by all the men.

“She’s a real looker,” Snotlout said obnoxiously.

“She’s taken,” Hiccup bit out.

“Man, it must be nice to just marry your bro,” Sir Thorston told Hiccup wistfully. “You know, you’ve already lived with them for years and been through thick and thin together. Getting a wife is weird; they’re all prissy and refined - except for my sister, of course. She’s a right shrew.” Lord Fishlegs stiffened.

“She may be your sister, but she is an Ingerman now, and I cannot allow you to speak ill of our women, Thorston.” The Thorston brother shuffled and muttered under his breath but said no more about his sister that night.

“You’ll take good care of her,” Eret grinned at him, squeezing Hiccup’s hand a little too hard. Hiccup found himself appreciating a man that cared enough about her to threaten his future king.

“Of course,” he agreed cordially and increased his own grip. “And you with Heather, of course.” Eret released his hand and bowed.

“I’m honored to have your blessing,” he said quietly.

He dared not go near the Hofferson matriarch, not sure if she’d threaten him or welcome him enthusiastically, and he was a little afraid to find out.

“That was a beautiful proposal, son,” his mother told him gently. Hiccup turned to embrace her.

“Mom. Thanks.”

“You are lucky to have her.”

“I am indeed.”

.oOo.

After they had gauged the public approval of Astrid, it was back to war preparations. It had been two months and they had been stealthily gathering the remains of their forces without alerting Drago. Hofferson is a girl, the trenches whispered incredulously. Some refused to recognize the unaltered feminine features now accompanied with a braid. But then they saw her fight on the front, and she was still as legendary as before. In such cases between life and death, her gender didn’t matter, only that she was protecting them, charging out into the battle, bleeding freely as she cut down enemies. She was a protector who would never stop fighting, and well, the soldiers could hardly let themselves be shown up by a girl, and so, too, they charged.

The battles were exhausting. Every other night Astrid almost prayed for death, even with Hiccup lying beside her. The soldiers said nothing about Astrid and Hiccup disappearing into each other’s tents to ‘tend each other’s wounds’ and not coming out for the rest of the night, but who cared? Astrid treasured those nights together, filled with the desperate closeness of two people begging the other not to leave the next day. Astrid received many, many more scars all over her body. This was not a fight to be fought lightly any more. There would be no more fighting after this, either because they won or lost, but knew no one was coming to save her unless she saved herself first.

The Prince and his Knight In Shining Armor were a power duo that swept across the battlefield. The King moved them around the battlefield to boost morale as the other forces prepared to battle Drago’s impending forces from the north. She was assigned a squire from Training, young and shaky looking as she quietly showed him how to polish her armor.

“I’ll probably be too tired to help you at night,” she admitted. “But I need my axe and sword sharpened every day. Can you do that?”

“O-okay Sir Hofferson,” the boy whispered in awe.

“Good,” she breathed as Hiccup entered the tent, dirty and grimy, kissing her neck all the same and began rubbing her shoulders. They spent their evenings catching their breaths from the day’s fight and discussing strategies, too tired to pick themselves off their cot. Astrid’s squire polished her armor til it gleamed every night and occasionally called female attendants to treat her to a delightfully hot bath when the injured were all too dead to treat so the hot water wasn’t needed for the night.

“Not much longer,” he whispered reassuringly into her hair.

“Not much longer,” he promised into her lips as they kissed.

“Not much longer,” he pleaded from between her arms as they slept.

“Not much longer,” he begged into her sweaty neck amidst the throes of passion.

And then, ‘not much longer’ became ‘hush, it’s over now.’

The war was won with casualties and hefty loss. Hiccup realized a way to challenge Drago, and so raced off like the heroic sacrificial hero he was to defeat Drago while Astrid kept the rest of his enemies at bay. She went down first, the sea of Drago’s men drowning and choking her as she fought. She needed … needed to keep them away … away from - who? What? … Hiccup!

Hiccup who was fighting still. Hiccup who was fighting for Berk and for her. Hiccup, who loved so entirely he couldn’t hide it on any part of his face. Hiccup who so staunchly defended the weak. Hiccup, who she was supposed to be protecting! Hiccup, who had lost a leg because she hadn’t been able to save him -

“Hiccup,” Astrid breathed in relief as she opened the door and saw him. He lay in his bed, his legs uneven lumps under the blankets. Astrid entered the room, shaking her braid out of her helmet and tucked it under her arm as she sat by the bed.

“Hey, there,” she greeted him softly. Hiccup just sighed.

“Thanks for coming by again,” he said in return, looking stonily down into his lap. He was bored and hated being still. He had his sketches nearby but they weren’t as fun when Hiccup couldn’t go down to the forge and tinker with hot metal until his diagrams made sense.

“Trader Johann has been officially banished from Berk for aiding enemy’s armies as of today and Toothless says hi,” Astrid told him conversationally. “I took him for a nice long ride today.”

“Thanks,” Hiccup grimaced. “I miss him.”

“He misses you too,” she responded immediately. “He can’t wait to see you again.”

“And then what?” he scoffed. “I’ll just tell him, ‘Hey, bud. Nice to see you again. Unfortunately, I’m lame and won’t be able to ride you.’”

“Don’t say that,” she frowned. “You’ll still be able to ride,” she tried to comfort him. Hiccup gave her a shaky smile.

“I can’t if I’m not able to walk,” he said bitterly.

“Hey,” Astrid said, reaching out to hold his hand. “You can do anything you put your mind to. I’m not saying this is going to be easy, but I know you’ll be able to do this.”

“Why are you still here, Astrid?” he asked. “I’m not going to make you marry me now I’m like this.”

“Good,” she said crisply. “Everyone can know it was my choice.”

“You don’t deserve an unwhole man like me.” She slapped him lightly.

“You are still Hiccup, leg or not,” she said firmly. “And I love you and I would never marry anyone else. You can still be a warrior - look at Gobber. And you’ll be a great King. Taking your leg didn’t take your heart as well. Losing your leg didn’t mean you’d ever lose me.”

“How did I ever deserve you?” asked Hiccup.

“You are the one man in the world I could stand to marry, Hiccup. You don’t have competition.” They laughed.

“Get better. Take all the time you need,” she kissed him. “But you aren’t getting out of the wedding.”

After a year, Hiccup walked and rode easily - or at least, without complaint. He got aches and plains aplenty, which Astrid had taken upon herself to identify quietly so she could take care of them before Hiccup had to ask - if she waited for him to ask for any help, he’d never ask - and learned to rub and massage the right oils and to anticipate his pain on rainier days, or those instances where he ran around castle determined to help everyone he could. He was still nimble and light on his feet, just a little clumsier than before which he hated but Astrid found endearing.

“You’re perfect,” she giggled as he bumped into the foot of the chair and swore. She caught him before he fell and he wrapped his arms around her in mock desperation.

“That would have hurt if my leg wasn’t metal,” Hiccup muttered.

“Mmm. Well then I guess it’s good you have a metal leg.”

“Shut up.”

“Never!”

.oOo.

She never wanted to have a wedding, until the day came for her to have her very own. When she’d been a little girl, she’d never cared for the fuss about weddings. The grooms were never handsome, and the girls, while beautiful, looked pale with overly rosy cheeks. She’d hated the idea of weddings and leaving her family, although now she’d learned that a healthy distance between her family didn’t prevent them from connecting frequently. And truthfully, by the end of those visits, she was glad to retire to her solitary rooms - although they were hardly ever empty. A certain newly crowned king of hers was partial to loitering around there for some unknown reason, but she let him. Someone had to protect the King while he slept.

On the day of her wedding, her hair had just reached her waist. Her maids left half of it out, the looseness representing her wedding night but also her freedom. She certainly had the freedom to kick someone without ripping the fabric if she so needed, but with Heather as her fierce Matron of Honor, she was rather certain Lady Eretson had any offensive company handled. She had not yet hung up her armor for good, only polished it carefully so that it still shone when she returned from her honeymoon. She was to be a warrior Queen, unafraid of fighting and of showing her scars. They had been hard earned, and served as a reminder of what she had overcome - and how she would still fight. It was still hard to change laws even as a lady with a lord’s status and betrothed to the king, but Astrid was nothing if not tenacious and she had been slowly winning simple rights one after the other. By the end of her honeymoon, women from families above a certain income would be able to inherit a small percentage. In a few years, they might have a female knight program. But she was getting ahead of herself. Today was selfishly all about her and Hiccup. 

She looked in the mirror. Her makeup was light but dramatic, her pearls lavish but elegant. Her dresses’ skirts were loose but full. And the belt was heavy but worn with pride. She felt like she was walking on clouds even as they hung the ornate ceremonial cloak made from the hide of a white bear over her shoulders. In a few minutes, there would be an added crown on her head. (But somewhere among her shiny locks, a polished golden axehead gleamed.)

Her mother had tears in her eyes. “You look beautiful, my darling,” she said, sweeping her daughter into a hug.

“We’ll have to call you ‘Your Highness,’ now,” Cami, now at seventeen, said boldly.

“Of course not,” Astrid protested as she allowed all her sisters to pull her into a hug one by one. “You’ll call me Astrid like you always have and you can call him Hiccup, he won’t mind.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s your special name for him,” Agatha sighed dreamily. “There’s no need for us to intrude on it.” Astoria nodded in agreement.

“Nothing’s changed,” Astrid whispered to her older sister, letting her see the fear in her eyes. Astoria simply smiled in encouragement.

“Marriage is another adventure you will conquer like to do with everything else,” Astoria assured her. Astrid bent down to grin at little Gunner who was watching the proceedings with wide eyes. He was now decidedly her favorite nephew, as Astoria was a good mother but some of her sister’s little babies were squalling monsters. She suspected they were spoilers because their mother’s were, but that was just an older sister’s opinion. And it hadn’t stopped her heart from bursting with joy when they’d handed her an infant and she’d been terrified she’d drop it until she’d tucked it into her side.

“This is what we’re going to have,” she’d told Hiccup. He’d had a dazed look in his eye.

“I can’t wait,” he’d admitted.

And now, the day had come.

Astrid took a deep breath, and stepped outside.

[fangirlwriting-stories]

A Need For Defensive Weapons

Summary: No One Knows AU Part 2, Sam opens up to Danny about something that happened, something he should really remember.

Author's Note:

My Brain: Hey you should continue that Danny Phantom AU

Me: ...Why?

My Brain: I wanna

Me: ...You're not gonna let me stop until the story's done are you

My Brain: Probably not!

Well anyway that whole "this is a one shot" thing didn't even last four days huh

...

Jazz knowing is… weird.

She’s not the most adept at the mechanics of ghost fighting, but after a straightforward talk about it, she lets Danny do most of the main action and backs him up when he asks for it.  And he’ll admit, it’s nice knowing someone will be there to watch his back if he needs it.  Definitely results in less injuries.

But that’s just the very practical reality of Jazz being able to be there when he’s fighting.  There’s other parts of it that are weird too.  For one thing, Jazz is way too terrible at jokes for someone who’s supposed to be related to him.  They really need to work on her banter.  And her knowing looks across the dinner table are a little too obvious for Danny’s comfort.

But honestly, he’s willing to forgo all of it.  Because the other part of it is that he can look at Jazz and be met with a reassuring smile that actually helps him feel at ease.  Or he can talk about ghost fighting freely, as long as they’re sure no one else is around.  He has someone to bounce ideas off of and strategize with, because it turns out Jazz is so much smarter than he’s given her credit for.

It’s a bizarre shift in his normal, but in the end, Danny decides that it’s more good things than bad.  It’s relaxing, having someone to count on.

But it’s also very new, and he’s not sure he feels like he can tell her everything yet.  Knowing he can open up to someone and knowing he can open up to someone are two different things.

He’s also pretty sure Jazz gets that, though, and she’s kept her promise about not pushing him.  He tells her the few things he knows about what happened with Freakshow in short little bursts, and she tells him the things she knows happened while he was gone when he asks, but not otherwise.

This does have some side effects, though.  Mainly being that he comes up with stories that don’t contradict anything in short bursts too, and tells them to Sam and Tucker about as fast.  And while they’re certainly being less harsh with him than they were when he first got back, he can tell it’s starting to irritate them.  Sam, especially.

He doesn’t feel like he can do anything else, though.  And they don’t say anything to him directly, so they all continue to ignore the problem.  Hopefully they can skirt by on that until the problem stops existing and then all move on.

The ghost fighting is slowly picking up again too, and Danny’s starting to have his usual weekly run-ins with Skulker and Technus and the Box Ghost.  It also becomes more and more clear that Amity Park is no longer a fan of Danny Phantom.

Well, granted, they haven’t been a fan of him for a while, but now it’s significantly worse.  It’s a lot harder to find places to hide and go ghost, and a lot of the times Jazz has to cover for him, especially when he’s with Sam and Tucker.  (Another reason he’s glad he told her, actually.)

On the other hand, one thing that definitely hasn’t gotten easier is hearing how Sam and Tucker talk about Phantom now.

It’s not like they were necessarily huge fans of his ghost half before.  If anything, they seemed indifferent.  They brought him up when ghost fights happened near them, which wasn’t always, and they never really had much to say beyond commenting on how that fight move had been cool, or that ghost had been scary, or something along those lines.

But now…

“Okay it’s lunchtime and not after school in the library so you can’t stop me,” Sam snaps as Danny approaches their usual table, late after a detour to fight some ghosts nearby.

He blinks at Sam, feeling like he’s missed the beginning of a conversation.  “What?”

“I need to vent and you can’t stop me!” Sam snaps.

Danny blinks again, and turns to Tucker, who gives him a ‘don’t mess with her’ look.

“Uh, okay?” Danny says, sitting down next to Sam.

“Great!” Sam says, not seeming at all calmer now that Danny’s agreed, and instead turning back to Tucker with an angry gaze.  “Anyway, I need to talk about Invis-O-Bill.”

Oh, great.

“First of all,” Sam says, pointing at Tucker like they’d had this conversation before.  “He has a really stupid name.”

“Ugh, he wouldn’t if people would just—” Danny stops, takes a deep breath, and gestures at Sam.  “Whatever.”

Sam stares at him for a couple seconds, then seems to brush it off and turns back to Tucker.  “But more importantly, I cannot stand his attitude!  You can’t just flip back and forth on a dime between villain and hero and expect people to roll with the punches!  What’s that all about?”

“What’s up with you being so caught up in it?” Danny asks despite himself, managing to hold himself back from glaring at her.  “You never cared about him before.”

“Yeah well he hasn’t been everywhere before!” Sam snaps, glaring the other way.

“So what, you don’t like him because he’s mainstream now?”

“What?  No!” Sam says, turning to glare at him.

“Okay,” Tucker says, leaning in between them.  “Take a breath.  We’re all friends here.”

Danny sighs and looks away.  “Sorry.”

“Yeah, me too,” Sam mutters, looking down at her food.  “I just— I guess it all just has me a little on edge.”

“There have been a few more ghosts lately,” Danny says, though he hasn’t actually seen too much of an uptick.  “You know, if you want, I might be able to convince my parents to let you come over and I could show you how to use some ecto weapons.”

“I… think I’ll take you up on that,” Sam says, which Danny isn’t expecting.  She’s shown total disinterest in ghost fighting before.

“Uh, sure,” he says anyway, because he’s not going to take it back when he was the one who offered.  “You can ride home with Jazz and I today.”

“You sure your parents will let you do that?” Tucker asks.

Danny laughs a little.  “Sure.  All I have to do is say ‘hey guys Sam wants to learn to fight ghosts’ and they’d practically let her move in.”

“Heh, yeah I could believe that,” Sam says with a small smile of her own.

So, after their hour doing homework in the library (Danny is actually making progress, about halfway caught up now), Sam rides home with him and Jazz.  Just like Danny expected, his folks are totally cool with it, and he takes Sam down to the lab to show her some of the ecto weapons.  He just barely manages to talk his dad out of coming along, with a little help from Jazz.

“Okay,” Danny says, feeling more than a little awkward as he leads Sam down to the lab.  He tends to steer clear of ghost stuff with Sam and Tucker for obvious reasons.  “We’ve got a cabinet full of weapons in the back.”

“Cool,” Sam says, turning immediately to look for it.  Danny walks over and she follows close, seeming more than a little eager.

He gives her a look, and Sam smiles, but there’s nerves there.

“Are… you okay?” he asks hesitantly.

“Nothing!  It’s nothing!  Just ready to get started!”

Danny looks at her for a second longer, then shrugs it off and turns back to the cabinet, unlocking it and pulling it open.  “So, you’ll probably want to stick with blasters if you’re just looking for defensive weapons,” he says.  “A small one you can keep in your pocket would be best.”

“Can they be used as offensive weapons?” Sam asks.

“Well, I guess technically,” Danny says, glancing over at her curiously.  “That’s not how I tend to use them.”

“Since when do you use them?”

“Uh, well you’d be surprised how often ghosts come up on family vacations,” Danny says, turning back to the cabinet.  “Okay, I’ve got some wrist rays, lazer lipstick, and a couple smaller handheld blasters.  Any of those sound good?”

“I’ll take the wrist ray,” Sam says, holding out her hand.

“Sure,” Danny says, picking one up and passing it over.  “Those are pretty simple.  You just aim and shoot by pressing the button.”

Sam straps it to her wrist and immediately turns and aims at the opposite wall, pressing the button.  A green beam shoots across the room and blasts a beaker into bits.

“Woah, watch it Sam!” Danny calls, reaching out and pulling her arm back.  “I have to clean that up, you know!”

Sam seems to shake herself, and turns back to Danny.  “I— sorry.  Just testing it.”

“Well we have a perfectly good backyard to test it in,” Danny says.  “You can shoot at some grass or some dandelion fluff.”

Sam looks down and fidgets with the strap on her wrist.  “Yeah,” she says.  “Okay.”

Danny pauses and takes her in.  She’s tense, and her shoulders are hunched like she’s looking for a threat.

“Hey,” he says, reaching out and putting a hand on her arm.  She relaxes a little and turns to look at him.

“Are you okay?” he asks.  “You seem really nervous.  And since when do you want to learn how to fight ghosts anyway?”

“It’s nothing,” Sam snaps, glaring down at the ground.  “You wouldn’t get it anyway, since you don’t stick around enough to know what’s going on.”

Danny winces.

But a second later, Sam sighs.  “No, I’m sorry, that’s not fair,” she says, turning to him with a guilty look.  “It’s really not your fault, and I should stop talking like it is.  Even if it’s still totally crazy that you’re not telling anyone what actually happened.”

Danny is quiet for a minute.  “Did… did something happen to you?” he asks hesitantly.

Sam fiddles with the strap and doesn’t meet his eyes.

Crud.  Something did happen.  Something happened and he wasn’t here to protect her—

“So uh,” Sam says, still not looking at him.  “You know how the last place you said you were going before you were… well, you know, was Circus Gothica?”

“Uh…” Danny wracks his brain and comes up with a vague blurry memory of ditching Sam and Tucker in the library, finding Lancer waiting outside, and overshadowing him to lock him in a broom closet.  “Yeah?”

“Well, Tucker and I followed you,” Sam says.  “We were trying to find out what your deal was.  We never found you, but we did find Freakshow and that Invis-O-Bill guy.”

“Uh, yeah,” Danny says, looking away.  “Following you so far.”

“Well, um.”  Sam takes a deep breath.  “So Freakshow tells me he hasn’t seen you and leaves the tent, and I’m about to follow when Invis-O-Bill shows up and grabs me.”

Danny’s heart drops into his stomach, and he spins back to Sam.  “What?”

“And he puts me up on the highwire,” Sam says, clenching her hands into shaking fists while still glaring at the floor.  “With no net.  And then cuts the wire. If Freakshow hadn’t caught me when I fell I would have died.  He tried to kill me.”

Danny can’t breathe.  “I di— he did?  I don’t— I don’t remember that.”  Why can’t he remember that?

“No, like I said, you were gone already,” Sam says with a sigh, like it’s not a big deal.  “I just, then he just shows up again last week like nothing’s happened and goes back to fighting that stupid ghost with all the boxes, whatever the heck his name is.  I just… I couldn’t take it.”  She looks down at her wrist.  “So I… I think I’ll feel a lot better if I’ve got something to defend myself with, you know?  If he or any other ghost tries to mess with me again.”

“Sure,” Danny says, trying to talk past the sudden lightheadedness.  He hopes his face looks even marginally appropriate for the situation.

Sam looks up at him, and he tries to focus on her and not his racing heartbeat.  “Hey, I— I’m sorry,” she says.  “I know I’ve been kind of snappy lately.  I think I’m just on edge, you know?”

Then, without any warning, she reaches out and wraps her arms around him.  “But I’m really glad you’re okay,” she says, while Danny goes back to staring at the floor and trying to force his breathing to cooperate.  “And I… I’m sorry I got so mad at you when you first showed up again.  It really wasn’t your fault.  I mean, obviously.  I can’t fault you for actually getting kidnapped.”

“It’s okay,” Danny manages.  “I’m fine.  I uh— I need to go to the bathroom.”

Sam pulls back, seeming slightly surprised.  “Oh, okay.  Meet you in the backyard?”

Danny nods and turns to practically run up the stairs.  He doesn’t stop until he reaches the bathroom, then slams and locks the door.  He leans back against it and slides to the floor, burying his head in his knees.

Breathe, you’re fine, nothing permanent happened, Sam’s fine, everything’s fine.

It’s fine.

…

“Alright!” Danny calls, opening the back door with a bang that’s maybe a little too loud, but that doesn’t stop Sam from turning to him with a smile.  “So let’s teach you how to shoot some grass with a wrist ray!”

...

Chapter Two

[unhappy-last-resort]

thoughts on latest cn chapter? If you read the translations

Because it's WILD

Okay, so I do try to avoid a lot of stuff on the CN story, unfortunately, I have been made to see some of it anyway and I've been wanting to talk about the way EN players have been acting for a hot minute.

Spoilers ahead, if you don't wanna know, don't read. I'm also forgoing my usual hand written note for this because I have too much to say

Before I start, if I have gotten something about the game story wrong, please don't tell me or be kind enough to hide it under a keep reading divider, I really do not want to know more about the story than I already do. This is the second time I have been spoiled about something I really wanted to experience first hand, thank you.

First of all, I do not understand the freak out about the kiss. Lucia has always been romantically interested in the Commandant, her Affection story in Plume is basically her working up to asking you out on a date, it has been well known and established that this woman loves you, this isn't coming out of left field and the people who are complaining it's destroying her character are people who likely didn't pay attention to it in the first place.

Secondly, the way people are acting like two fem characters confessing suddenly makes all their headcanons invalid, or is going to stop the masc characters from having a chance...ridiculous. It's literally implied that Camu was going to kiss you, if not more, in his affection story and if he wasn't interrupted. He's also not the only masc character to be implied to have feelings towards the Commandant and they all still have those romantic tones in their past, current, and future events (and in some coating descriptions too).

Calm down please and go write/draw your Commandant having hot gay sex instead, what happens in the game has as much affect on your daydreams as you want it to.

Thirdly. The complaining about the writing suddenly being bad.

Do you think the CN players would also not be complaining about it? I've been in a few gacha communities and this attitude of acting like the CN playerbase is too stupid to know what a good game looks like is racist.

Yes, they're from a different culture from you, but we're here to play a video game. Do you think they don't like the game for the same reasons you do? Do you think they can't tell when something is poorly made, or poorly written in a game that has been flourishing for months?

If the story was genuinely badly written, I think we would see a lot more of the CN playerbase complaining, but what I've seen instead are people being moved by it.

Aside from that, stories in live service games don't usually become "suddenly" bad, there are generally signs beforehand and you'll notice it starts to taper off before it hits rock bottom. If it was bad, then there should have been some complaints about it dating several months prior to now.

Lastly, and most importantly. We don't have the full story yet. I just heard the rest of the story, or at least the second half, just became available for CN players. Why are we spending so much time crying about a story that isn't finished and that we can't even read for ourselves yet? We're only getting little snippets of the story and we're already making judgements while not having context and you would be surprised how much having the context and being able to follow the events of a story by yourself instead of hearing about it from someone else changes how you view it.

I highly doubt that they're going to leave so many drastic changes, or deaths, of characters and not explore them. I doubt they're actually throwing these characters away, let's wait and see where this goes because they're clearly gearing up for something big.

Tl;dr relax, go enjoy the stuff that's on global instead of freaking out about stuff that's ten months away, if the story or game actually does go downhill, you won't be the only player in the world who will be upset and Kuro is known for taking feedback, we can deal with it when it comes up.

[fenmere]

Sup! an ask about DID diagnosis: how is it ableist, and you've chosen not to go for it?

I dont think it can't be ableist and troublish, but i just want to know how exactly, to understand problems of systems better.

OK, thank you so much for asking! So.

The most direct and immediate problem we've run into regarding a DID diagnosis is that in both the U.S. and U.K. (and likely in other countries), it can be used to legally remove your rights as a human being. It can be used in court as evidence that you cannot give informed consent, which can be used to deny you access to medical care, custody of children, or even to force you into a conservatorship, among other dangers.

We are transgender. We were figuring out our plurality just between having been granted HRT and trying to get our surgery lined up. Our therapist was very worried for us, when we started talking about our amnesia, blackouts, and changes in personality, even though we were all in agreement that we needed transitional healthcare.

She resisted giving us a diagnosis of DID because it could potentially halt our transition. And we were able to demonstrate to her satisfaction that we had effectively integrated (not through final fusion, but through cooperation). So we both agreed to forgo that diagnosis.

We were lucky we got such a good counselor.

That's one way in which DID is ableist. The diagnosis can be used to deny patients of things they desperately need, or that they should have the right to access regardless.

The other way is how the diagnosis is conceptualized as a disorder to begin with.

It's maybe getting better as medical academia is getting a better understanding of it, but the original diagnosis of DID is a step back from Multiple Personality Disorder.

Part of the whole purpose of replacing MPD with DID was to deny the autonomy of alters and system members, and to refer to them as "dissociative identity states" rather than people. Which is not how most pluralities experience themselves.

But also, just at the very basis of it, both MPD and DID have been classified, studied, and defined almost solely by singlets. Not pluralities. Not people who are actually experiencing these things. So the diagnosis is rife with misunderstandings, mischaracterizations, and bad assumptions.

And it's all based on the assumption that being a singlet is the default, healthy state of a human being, and that deviation from being a singlet is somehow disordered and wrong and needs to be fixed.

Sure, if someone experiences genuine distress at being plural, they should be able to seek help regarding it. And there is now language in the diagnosis to accommodate some of those who are not distressed by it. But it was originally rooted in that saneism, and most clinical professionals still exhibit it, and prove themselves to be dangerous to their patients and their patients' human rights.

[fecto-forgo]

i really honestly feel like that a lot of the criticism towards susie isnt justified. the capitalism stuff, sure, but she gets waaayyy too much flak for the mecha knight thing.

TBH i kind of want someone else other than susie should try to turn meta knight into a robot. just to see if they'd get hated on for it.

imagine if magolor were to do it. would he get scrutinized for it? or would people try to go through hoops to say it's okay if he does it, it was only bad when susie did it?

i already do sense some double standards in the fandom tho.....

you see the issue is i cannot for the life of me understand this beyond "susies a girl, and because of that shes the devil for hurting the fan favorite guy", disliking her bc of the theme? sure! completely fair! believing she could have been better redeemed? i can see a point! misunderstanding her for a while due to SAs translation completely changing what her recent goals are implied to be? very understandable they fucked her updated character up there

but no, what people get irrationally angry about is she happened to pick meta knight and how DARE she do that to poor meta knight?!

but...thats where my confusion is, if ANY other character had done that to MK theyd not get backlash for it, itd be an angsty meta knight moment for fans theyd absolutely ADORE and theyd form opinions on whoever did it for the character they are (see:every dedede possession, barely see anyone even acknowledge who did it that much, its about dedede being affected w the culprit being disregarded), not for who they happened to use for the "puppet" role, susie.is not allowed this, shes the girl who hurt meta knight, multiple peoples entire opinions of her revolve around the fact she roboticized meta knight (remember btw.he was LITERALLY fine.theres nothing implying this was painful and he recovered extremely quickly) susie is not allowed to be anything but a massive bitch who hurt poor fan favorite meta knight

and dude i just.dont get it, i dont get why its so comically common for fandoms wide to be overly harsh forming opinions on the girls, giving them absolute hell for things theyd absolutely praise men for doing, id understand if it was implied to be awful for MK or if someone just doesnt like him being in bad situations, but no, if ANY male villain did that ppl would be going over the moon they got juicy meta knight angst and a cool other guy, is overly judging female characters so inherent in peoples brains this is subconscious?? its just.so fucking insane to me.i literally cannot understand this

heck everytime ive seen ppl talk abt the stuff w fecto forgo trying to possess meta knight its just as i said itd go (forgo is either genderless or non binary, for note.so rly further proof the issue is susies a girl) its abt the experience being bad for MK, not abt how the one who did it is an horrible being, its.so fucked up susie is not even allowed to be disliked because of her own character, its because she hurt a man so shes the actual devil for doing that

TL DR please hate susie at least because of her whole character and not because she happens to be a girl who hurt a man (basically ask yourself:if she were a guy or enby, would you still be this angry about that? if not, reconsider if youre not being subconsciously biased to see her as way worse because shes a woman.if yes lmao relax youre being normal and just dont like your favorite being hurt)

[sophiie2000]

The Only Woman He Could Ever Marry

Shu Hasunuma x MC

Shu realises something has happened to his wife at work, before she can even confide in him, how does he come to her rescue?

~ 2364 words

Disclaimer - Characters belong to Voltage Inc

Hurried steps bashed along the pavement. The sound of shoes meeting the hard floor sounded almost jolly in tune. You could hear the skip in the owner’s step. 

Shu could not hide the smile forming on his face. The thought of returning home to his IRL wifey had him behaving like an excitable pup. 

Before he was married, going home meant he could finally shed the princely façade, hop into his oversized green tracksuit and play video games for hours upon hours. 

Yet now he got to enjoy the thrill of doing all that, with the woman he loved. With the woman who loved him. The real him. 

When he entered his front door, his jovial mood came to an abrupt holt. He knew immediately that something was wrong. 

Call it a husband’s intuition, or the fact he could analyse the information he had managed to accumulate over the course of their co-habitation, the logistics did not matter. Shu knew something was wrong. All based on a few little differences. 

First, upon opening the door, he could not smell the delish aroma of whatever meal his wife was making for their dinner tonight. Nor could he hear her pottering about in the kitchen. 

Secondly, there was no music playing. No humming along from the woman he loved. Which meant he would not be graced with the view of his wife dancing around the kitchen, singing whatever song was next in her playlist. 

And finally, she was not there to greet him. 

These three facts told Shu that something wasn’t right. Forgoing his usual ritual of putting his bag by his desk and heading to the bedroom to change into his oversized tracksuit, he dropped his belongings and started going in and out of the rooms of their apartment. 

It was a small apartment, cosy and plenty for the two of them, so it did not take him long to search each room. Finally, Shu came to the final room of the apartment to check. MC’s old room. They had all but forgone staying in separate rooms once their relationship had become a true one. 

Upon approach, he found the door slightly ajar. The sound of his wife talking quietly on the phone while crying came through the open crack. He could hear every devastating word his wife spoke. Her words crushing him.

“I don’t know what to do Yuiko… I’m not sure how much more I can take. I always thought I was strong… stronger than this. But their words hurt. Hearing they don’t think I am good enough for him, that he deserves someone skinnier, prettier and smarter… I ignored them to begin with but now it’s too much. When they just spoke about my looks I ignored them. It didn’t matter what they saw in my looks, that’s all superficial anyway. But now they’re trying to sabotage my work. You should have seen Mr Kasai’s and Kuranosuke’s faces when I had to inform them that I didn’t have the materials they wanted. Who would have thought they would go as far as to destroy my back up copies too?”

Shu went to move away from the door before he heard his wife’s next words, stopping him in his tracks.

“No of course I haven’t told Shu about this… no I’m not going to, he doesn’t need to be worrying about this. I just came home to grabs some bits to go back to the office. I need to finish those files again before 9 am tomorrow so I’ll be staying over at the office all night. God, I hope Shu doesn’t ask too many questions, he’ll probably be disappointed in me too…”

Shu could listen no more. His wife was breaking, and that hurt him too. But what hurt more was she still felt unable to talk to him. After everything they went through before, she was going to keep something like this from him.

Shu knew his wife wouldn’t confide in him, not yet. But now he knew, he couldn’t pretend he was none the wiser. Especially not when she was getting reprimanded and having to work late to try fix a problem that was not her fault. 

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he dialled a number he hardly ever used anymore. After a few rings, a gruff voice answered on the other end. 

“Kuranosuke, it’s Shu. Yes… I need to talk to you about the situation with MC earlier today. You are still at the office? Splendid, myself and MC will actually be on our way back shortly, if you could wait for me there, I would appreciate it. Mr Kasai too if he is still there.” 

Hanging up the phone, Shu announced himself loudly. Making it appear as though he had only just returned home. He was ready to be her support. Even if she would be none the wiser to it right now. 

Shu had informed his wife that he needed to go back to the office. When she had told him she too needed to return, he took her hand and insisted they journey together. Her eyes showed the tell-tale signs that she had been crying, but Shu politely ignored them. He knew his wife wouldn’t appreciate him pointing out her red eyes, and puffy nose. A sight he, however, found endearing. 

When they arrived that the office, Shu noticed how MC cowered from the harsh glare she received from Kuranosuke as she hurried to her desk, immediately beginning to work on her files. Shu felt the room go cold, understanding fully why they called Kuranosuke the blizzard. 

“Shu.” Kuranosuke spoke, directing a glance towards the conference room. “Kunihiro is already waiting for us inside.” 

Nodding once, Shu followed the other man towards the conference room. When he entered he Kunihiro offered him a polite smile, although Shu could sense the tension rolling off him. Evidently the files were a lot more important than Shu was aware of.

“Shu, what can we do for you? I hear you phone Kuranosuke and asked for us both directly” Kunihiro got straight to the point. His face was now in business mode. 

“Mr Kasai… Kuranosuke. Before I begin, I must stress the fact my wife is unaware I am having this conversation with you… in truth she is unaware that I overheard her conversation regarding the matter…” Shu began glancing out the conference room towards MC’s desk.

“So this is regarding MC.” Kuranosuke grumbled. Despite his tone, there was a hint of concern in the glance he directed towards the woman sitting at her desk.

“She was set up. And it is my fault” Shu blurted out. This earned him shocked looks from his superiors. Thinking it best he explains, he continued. “MC hasn’t confided in me, but I overheard a phone call she was having this evening with her friend. Truthfully it is also the reason I am aware that some files she was supposed to hand you did not find their way into your hands.” 

“That is correct. MC was supposed to have the finished files complete and on my desk at 3 pm this afternoon. However, not only did she come empty handed saying she had misplaced them, she then informed me that she had not saved any back up files, so there was nothing. The client is expecting a meeting regarding these files at lunchtime tomorrow. I need those files at 9 am latest tomorrow to salvage some sort of meeting.” Kunihiro was evidently furious. But Shu could tell from his tone, he didn’t believe MC had told him everything.

“You say she was set up… how?” Kuranosuke asks.

“Since we announced our marriage, she has been being harassed. From what I heard her telling her friend, it started out as comments about her appearance. Her looks, her weight… those sorts of things.” Shu was evidently uncomfortable that his wife had endured something similar to what he had at school. The difference being, to him she was perfect. Shaking his head, he continued. “But now, they are beginning to try ruin her work. Taking files was the beginning. Making it look like she had misplaced them. Now they are taking the files, and destroying the back up ones. Putting her in situations like the one she finds herself in now.”

“Why wouldn’t she tell us this earlier?” Kunihiro asked, looking at the other two men.

“MC isn’t that sort of person. She doesn’t like getting others into trouble. She hates confrontations. She is kind. She would take all the blame, if it would prevent someone else getting any grief.” Kuranosuke spoke. 

Shu nodded. Kuranosuke had described his wife in a nutshell perfectly. 

“Very well. I best go help MC with these files. It was not her fault that I had employees who think it is ok to knock others down. Kuranosuke, keep an eye on the floor over the next week. I want to be the first to know of any employee sabotaging others. Shu, thank you for informing us of this. I didn’t think MC was incompetent at her job and I was struggling to find an explanation for such an out of character lapse in judgement, so I am glad you informed us. I will personally be speaking with MC about the matter and how we hope to resolve it going forward. Gentlemen, if you would excuse me, I have an employee to help” Kunihiro declared. 

As he set off to walk, both Kuranosuke and Shu followed behind. They too would help. The more hands, the quicker the work would finish. 

MC evidently had heard their approaching footsteps. She looked up and cowered slightly at the intimidating sight of the three of them together. 

“Mr Kasai, Sir, I am so sorry about the mess I have made. I promise you, these files will be done and on your desk by 9 am.” MC stumbled over her words, her voice trembling still from the tears she had cried earlier this evening. 

“MC. No apologies. It was brought to my attention that this was not your fault, and frankly I did not believe you would have had such a lapse in judgement. We are here to help you, let’s get those files completed before the night is out so you can get home” He offered her a kind smile. One MC returned gratefully. 

Her eyes drifted to meet her adoring husband. He offered her a slight smile, one that told her he had been the one to inform the others of something being wrong. She didn’t know how he knew, but she mouthed him a grateful thank you before directing her gaze back to her computer screen. 

Five hours later, and the clock was dangerously close to signalling a new day. The printer fell silent. A chorus of soft sighs waved across the room. The group had successfully compiled the files that were needed for the meeting. 

Kuranosuke and Shu had worked on half, while Kunihiro and MC had worked on the other. During that time, Kunihiro had questioned MC about what had really happened. When she had divulged the details of what she had been experiencing, Kunihiro was both angry at his subordinate, but also grateful MC had felt she could talk with him truthfully now. 

Instructing Shu and MC to return home, Kuranosuke stated he and Kunihiro could manage the rest. Maybe it was his way of being polite, knowing the couple needed to talk, nonetheless Shu was grateful. Grasping his wives had tightly in his own, he headed towards the elevator. 

 The journey home had been peaceful. Shu had kept a firm hold on MC’s delicate hand, rubbing his thumb over her hand, caressing her fingers. As soon as they returned home, MC headed straight into the bathroom, showering before heading into their bedroom. 

Shu was already waiting for her in their bed. He listed the edge of the duvet, beckoning MC into his warm embrace. Once she snuggled into his chest, he finally felt himself relax, releasing a sigh he hadn’t realised he had been holding. 

“How did you know something like that had happened Shu?” MC asked the question she had silently been stewing over since the three men had agreed to help her. 

“I heard you on the phone earlier. I couldn’t pretend I didn’t know anything, but I knew you would never ask me for my help. I’m sorry for going behind your back, but I wish you would have felt like you could confide in me. Or been honest with Kunihiro and Kuranosuke!”

“I know, I’m sorry Shu. I thought I could handle them without giving them any attention. But I guess I couldn’t… I just wanted to show you, you married the right person. When they suggested you should have married someone better, I was upset. I wanted to prove them wrong.” MC murmured her confession into his chest. Shu felt his chest warm and a blush tinge his cheeks. 

“MC… You are the only woman I could ever marry. You will always be the best decision I made. I love you” His confession fell from his lips easily, despite the furious blush tinging his cheeks. 

He tightened his embrace on his wife. No way in hell was he going to let her look at his face right now. If he could feel the blush, he knew she would be able to see it. 

However, she seemed to revel in his embrace, and she nuzzled in closer, inhaling his scent.

“I love you, too, Shu. And thank you for coming and helping me” Her words vibrated through him. Warming him right to his core.

The usual happy feeling he felt when he held his wife close filling him to the brim. 

He may not have been able to enjoy their usual evening of watching his wife sing and dance in their kitchen, welcome him home, cook him food, or play video games together. 

But so long as he could hold her in his arms come nightfall, well, that would be a blissful end to another day married. 

Married to the only woman he could ever marry.

[dragonmuse]

Mary's first time with Doug

(you got it!)

The underwear was riding up her ass uncomfortably. It had been years since Mary had intentionally bought underwear that someone else might see. With Stede, she had come into the marriage with hopeful bits of lingerie. Things her college girlfriends thought were scandalous like strappy night corsets and lace panties. In the early days, she’d tried all of it. 

One by one, the pieces disappeared into the back of her drawers until she realized she might as well be comfortable. Stede was equally quizzically disinterested if she wore silk or if she had on boxers.  

When she’d decided that tonight (there fourth date, but many months into spending time together) she was finally going to invite Doug back to the house, she had gone out shopping. Evelyn had advised just forgoing underwear altogether. 

“They like it better,” she’d said, ashing her cigarette into a potted plant outside the cafe they’d met in for lunch. 

“They do?” Mary frowned. She couldn’t imagine it would’ve helped with Stede, and while she knew now that there was nothing she could’ve done there, it had damaged her self-esteem a little. How could it not?  

She considered it, but maybe the underwear wasn’t for Doug at all. Maybe it was just for her. 

So she’d done a little late night online shopping and just before the date had dithered back and forth before slipping on the tiny lacy things. 

And now, they were riding up and it was very much distracting her from Doug talking about the history of indigo. 

The truly horrible thing was that she wanted to hear all about it. Doug’s explanations were never boring or condescending. He was interesting and attentive and he kept interrupting himself to ask if she was enjoying the wine or if she wanted to try his flounder. She had and he’d offered her a bit on a fork and they’d held long eye contact and as she’d leaned over the table, dress dipping to show a hint of cleavage as she took it. 

“And then denim-I...are you all right?” he frowned. “Oh shit, I’ve been going on for ages. I’m so sorry.” 

“No! I want to hear it,” she rushed to say, her cheeks flushing. “I’m sorry.” 

“You just seem a little distracted tonight. Is everything all right?” 

What she wanted to do was be seductive. She wanted to have that effortless flirtation that led from point A to point B. So much of being with Doug had been effortless so far. Even their ventures into kissing had flown one into the other.  

But Doug was understanding. He listened to her. Maybe he’d understand this too. 

“I’m nervous,” she admitted. “I really want to ask you to come home with me tonight.” 

“You do?” Doug’s smile was so bright that it eased her nerves a little. “Mary, I would love that.” 

“I haven’t...it’s only...” she groped for the words, “oh, this so...embarrassing!” 

“What is?” he asked bewildered. He reached across the table palm up and hesitantly she put her hand in his. 

“I’ve only had one partner,” she said after a moment, steeling herself. “I really don’t know what I’m doing and I feel like it’s the first time all over again.” 

“You do?” Doug asked softly. 

“A little. Is that silly?” 

“No, not at all. Maybe it’s not the right thing to say, but I think it’s a bit romantic, actually.” 

“Because I’m flustered?” 

“Because it is new. For me and for you. The first time you’re with a new person should feel a little fresh. Exciting. That’s just the other side of nervous, isn’t it?” 

“...it is,” she squeezed his hand. “That’s a really nice way to look at it.” 

They got the check not long after that. They’d taken turns paying and tonight Mary did, signing her name in the most senseless scrawl of her life. They had both driven there, so they parted at the front doors and met again in her driveway. 

It was Stede’s lone week with the kids which made the whole thing move a little more smoothly. There was no sitter to pay, no bedroom doors to close. Mary didn’t want to make out on the couch like they had the last few times. It had been fun, but she was determined to make the most of her solo time. 

After the divorce, she’d re-done the main bedroom in deep blues. The old bedding had been thrown away as if she could exorcize all the terrible fumbling moments and sweaty, uncomfortable nights along with them. So it was on to fresh sheets that they rolled onto. Doug kissed her with one hand cupping her cheek. He was already hard, the heated brand of it pressed against her thigh. 

She’d done that. She’d turned him on just by falling onto a bed with him. Just from a kiss. 

“Can we get undressed?” she asked, confidence returning. She wanted to banish the uncomfortable underward. She also just wanted to be naked before him, to make sure he knew what he was getting. 

Mary thought she was still worth looking at. She’d drawn nude self-portraits late at night, critical of each part, but also willing to see that there was worthiness there. 

“Yes,” Doug said eagerly and he reached for the hem of her dress. “Can I?” 

She raised her arms and he bunched up the fabric, drew it up and off of her, tossing it off the bed heedlessly. Like there was no time to care for such things. Then he stood, equally unmindful of his own clothes, heaping them onto the floor as she unhooked her bra. Moved by the spirit, she tossed it aside, their clothes intermingling. 

“I knew you’d have amazing breasts,” he said, then groaned, closing his eyes. “That sounded terrible.” 

“No!” She laughed. “Thank you. I like them.” 

Not too long after that, she remembered that sometimes she even loved them as he put the tip of his tongue to one nipple and pleasure tingled over her. That such a small touch from one tiny bit of flesh to another should make everything feel so good was a little miracle. Doug’s hands on her were sure and steady. They were hungry too. 

He wanted her. He said so, but he also showed it in the way he kissed her. The way his hands roved as if he couldn’t figure out which part of a feast to devour first. And when she touched him in return, he encouraged her onward. 

His cock was different, maybe smaller, and less pink, she thought. Stede had always been a bit much. Showoffish in his size, she’d thought on her meaner days. This seemed reasonable. Something she could work with. 

“Lay back?” she suggested and Doug went as if the bed itself was calling him downward, landing a little heavily. 

When she moved downward, he groaned in anticipation, spreading his legs to give her room. It was a return of nerves that she took him into her mouth. The taste was just the same, clean skin and hint of sweat, but there all familiarity was gone. Doug’s cock was firm, no coaxing required. He rested his hand on the back of her head, not holding her there, but clearly asking for more. 

Mary smiled to herself. She and Evelyn’s conversation had gone beyond underwear.  All she could recall now was the firm line ‘it ain’t rocket science, just keep it hot, wet and tight’.  And it really wasn’t that hard. 

What really surprised Mary was how hard it turned her on. It hadn’t even occurred to her that sucking cock would make her feel powerful. Feel hot. Feel like she could do anything. This smart, kind, hot guy was saying her name over and over, quivering in hands. 

“Stop, please,” he groaned. “If you want me to be good for anything else tonight.” 

She pulled off with a pop, looking up at him with a tentative, 

“That was okay?” 

“Yes,” he said emphatically. “Very very okay. Come back up here?” 

She went, pleased that he kissed her with hesitation. Then they were rolling and she laughed as he got her beneath him. 

“Do you like being eaten out?” 

She blinked at him and then had to admit, “I don’t know?” 

“Then let’s find out,” he said merrily and sank down. 

It was terrible for a moment, the exposure of him sliding her thighs up, opening her to the cool air. That first touch of tongue was almost repulsive, and then he flatted it against her, and did..something. 

“Oh my god!” She shouted then clapped a hand over her mouth. 

“Bad?” He checked. 

“No...no, it felt good,” she was flushed red, she was certain, but he only made a pleased noise and did it again. 

And again. And again. The corkscrew tightening in her stomach that had only ever happened when she was alone started to turn. Doug was single-minded in his pursuit, mastering the flickering motion that made her cough up tiny moans. 

Then he slid a finger up over her and when she didn’t protest, he pushed inside. The duel sensation shot through her like ligenting and she came hard, a noise she hadn’t ever made before clawing its way out of her throat. 

“...so that’s a yes then,” Doug said, very clearly pleased with himself. 

She lay there staring up at the ceiling, collecting herself. “Oh my god.”

“Wow, this is going to go straight to my ego,” Doug grinned. “You okay?” 

“I will be,” she decided, then as if her entire filter had taken a vacation, she blurted, “I have an IUD.” 

“What?” 

“Birth control,” she explained. 

“No I know, I just-” Doug stopped, then started again. “It’s been a while for me, but you don’t have to take my word for it.”

“You’d be taking my word about the IUD.” 

They considered each other, the moment yawning out before them.  

“I trust you,” Doug said quietly. “I don’t care if that’s foolish.” 

“Oh good,” she reached out for him, drawing him back up her body, “because I feel the same way.” 

It wasn’t anything revolutionary. If anything, it was as vanilla as these things could go. Doug just hitched her legs up around his waist and she hung on as he slid home. So why did it feel so revolutionary? Why did it feel like an instant wave desire to do it again? 

He rocked against her, and leaned down to kiss her, lips still soaked in her own come. She kissed him back, heedless of it. She met his thrusts and she reached between them to touch herself, he asked, 

“If you want to use something else, I like that.” 

“What do you mean?” She asked between gasps. 

“Vibrator or something? Can feel pretty good.” 

“Yes,” She moved her hand faster, enjoying the way his breath cough as she clenched down around him. “Yes, let's try that another time.” 

Even as her second orgasm crested, she was already imagining the next time and the next. They’d have to be quieter when the house was full again. Maybe they could go out to the studio. She always thought that the table in there was sturdy enough to hold a lot of weight. They’d have to test that out. 

“Mary,” he said right into her ear as he pushed in last night and shuddered against her. 

“Doug,” she said in the same reverent tone and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. 

The certainly was probably foolish too, but even then Mary knew that he would be here with her again and soon. One thing about living with the wrong thing for so long, it was like a rock finally getting dislodged from a shoe. You knew it felt right. 

This. This was right.

[jazzytrait]

I'm drinking and rambley so how about a non-sims, Jazzy-gives-advice-no-one-asked-for post? No? We're doing it anyway!

So, my friend just told me about another friend of hers who has been asking her for money on the regular and I had to tell her this story because it's...

a lesson I had to learn the hard way:

Story time! Once upon a time I had a close friend. We'd known each other for years. When he finally moved out of his parents' house he had no end of financial trouble.

(This is gonna get long and rambley... so adding a cut)

Now, I'm no stranger to that... I'm disabled and have no college degree. I've struggled to make ends meet my whole life. I have gotten very good at churching up ramen noodles and rice/bean dishes. For reference: I've been under or only slightly over the poverty line for the majority of my life. Sucks when you feel like you're making a little progress and then they take away your health insurance because you made $1k more a year. (and I have to have my medications, so forgoing medical treatment is not an option)

Anyway, my friend got into a bind when he quit a job because the manager was rude to him. He was slightly younger than me and new to "real life", so I gave him a pass. Life is rough and adjusting is hard. I helped him out with a couple hundred dollars that I barely had because that's what friends do, right? Right.

A couple months later, I found out that instead of paying his rent with that money he had taken his gf out to dinner a few times and now he was getting kicked out. Luckily, he was living with roommates and it wasn't an actual eviction. But he did have to find somewhere new to live. He asked to come stay with me and I had to decline because my place was extremely tiny (300sq ft) and I didn't even have a couch for him to surf on.

He found someone else to couch surf with rent free until he could find another job and another place. He kept talking about all the job hunting and how hard it was. A few months later his gf confessed to me that he hadn't been looking or putting in applications because he thought he deserved more money than the going rate for his education level (no hs diploma or GED). His friend eventually kicked him out and he found ANOTHER place to couch surf. He did eventually take another job.

A few months later he was in trouble again because he had to go to the doctor and was short on rent. My other friend helped him out with some money. This time he spent it on his rent. But lo and behold, the next month he said he needed help again. A different friend helped him out with some more money. The next day he, I and his gf were online together gaming in Discord. He said "brb I'm gonna order some food". He ordered $60 of sushi for he and his gf to split (she didn't work btw, so he paid). I asked him "Didn't [friend] just lend you money for your rent? Why are you ordering sushi?" and he replied "All I have is sandwich stuff and I don't feel like eating a sandwich". This was the first time that red flag really went up for me, even though it should have been sooner.

It continued this way. Every month he had some new sob story of why he needed money from people and even though our friend group had long since ceased helping him, he always found someone new to help him out (he was charming and had a knack for making friends and sounding genuine).

He went through job after job. He'd quit after a month or so because he didn't like the work or didn't like his boss or didn't make enough money (which... any money is better than no money). I'm not saying that adult life isn't soul-crushing. It is and it sucks, but we do what we have to do to survive. To him, he was victim forced to do something he didn't want to do and so he refused to do it. He had a million and one excuses for how his joblessness and constant need for assistance wasn't his fault.

One time, I was in town visiting and we met up to get a burger. I offered to split the bill and he said after we'd already eaten "Oh, I don't have any money". I bit my tongue and paid because it was too late anyway. Afterwards, as we were walking back out through the mall he said he wanted to stop and look in a couple stores. He asked me to buy him things three separate times. I declined because I could barely afford my own rent and expenses and I worked my ass off to get what little I had. He was pretty frustrated by my refusals and even called me "stingy".

To this day (5 years later) he is famous amongst our friends for always asking for money, always spending it carelessly and then just asking people for more... he doesn't have to work his ass off because people keep giving him things to the point that now if you say "no" to him he gets offended and feels entitled to whatever money you have.

The moral of the story is: One time is a mistake. Twice is a pattern. Three times is a problem. Some people can't be bothered to help themselves as long as others are willing to prop them up and do it for them. Don't get suckered into every sob story you hear and feel obligated to help. We want to be good people and helping out isn't wrong. Help should be available to people in times of crisis... but keep an eye out for the ones who seem to always need help. Some people are very good liars.

[hoursofreading]

Successful people can afford to engage in countersignaling—doing things that signal high status because they are associated with low status. It is a form of self-handicapping, signaling that one is so well off that they can afford to engage in activities and behaviors that people typically associated with low status. An example from Ogilvy Vice Chairman Rory Sutherland: If you’re a top executive, turning up to work on a bicycle is a high-status activity because it was a choice and not a necessity. But if you work at Pizza Hut, turning up on a bike means you can’t afford a car. Or consider arriving “fashionably late” to a social gathering. For most people, there is an opportunity cost of socialization for arriving late. Each additional minute past the start of the event is a minute you did not spend interacting with others—maintaining and enhancing social bonds, forming potential business partnerships, seeking profitable opportunities, and so on. Tardiness is a bad habit for most people. But for high-status, prominent individuals, the opportunity cost of being late is comparatively smaller. Their social connections are already assured, their reputations already established, their economic positions already secured. A final example of how countersignaling is differentially costly depending on social position: If you are an extremely successful author, you don’t have to self-promote your writing anymore. You can wait for others to share it and simply retweet or re-post their endorsements. Some don’t even do that. Some writers are so well known that, despite having millions of followers, they literally don’t promote anything they write on social media. That is some strong countersignaling. Countersignaling is a poor strategy for new writers (or podcasters, or musicians, or others in creative domains). People just starting out should look at those who are a little ahead of them. They’ll usually find that novice writers who are accruing some success regularly post their stuff online and ask others to share it. One form of countersignaling is excess humility. It increases status for those who are already high status, but humility decreases status for those who are not high-status. Summarizing her research, Leslie K. John, a professor at Harvard Business School, has written: “Humility is admirable. But if someone requests information or an answer that requires you to reveal positives about yourself, you should oblige. Research indicates that when someone details an accomplishment in response to a direct question, others don’t judge that person as any less agreeable…we found that if you’re given an opportunity to brag—for example, by being asked, ‘What are your greatest strengths?’ or ‘How did you finish that so quickly?’—forgoing it can raise suspicion. We found that not answering or being coy about such questions may cause people to think you’re neither trustworthy nor likable.” A bestselling author who never posts about their writing seems humble or above it all. An aspiring writer who never posts about their writing seems shy, or unconfident, or unserious. A lot of successful people talk about how their achievements are primarily due to luck (a humblebrag). Don’t listen to them. Even though they are right to some extent, you’re more likely to excel if you look at people slightly ahead of you. Besides, whether you are looking for moderate success (generally within anyone’s grasp) or extreme success (which requires a lot of luck), hard work is still a requirement.

Be Wary of Imitating High-Status People Who Can Afford to Countersignal

[kasarian]

oh for the ask game!

5. What’s one hill your OC will die on (anything from a guiding moral position to a strong opinion about combining mint and chocolate)?

for akku, hira, mela!! also curious about everyone else if you feel like it but i feel like we don't hear the younger ones' opinions on stuff as often!!

[ ask game here ]

Oh these three will die on the hill any one of them is protecting, mostly as a bit, and a little bit of sincere, underlying ride-or-die attitude NDMNDFMNFD

However...

Akku fucking swears will do everyone good. That is a given, and everyone agrees, but he sees so much people he loves and cares about forgo it and he always goes about and harps on them, bringing some things to help them relax at least while said people are too stubborn to listen. (Basically, "Rest is good for you! You have to rest at the end of the day no matter what. Or else! ^_^ (menacing)"). Other than this, he swears that listening also does everyone some good.

Also, Akku likes to eat fruit in fun, messy ways. Just for fun and enrichment. Everyone should do this. As well as having something creative to do (he will die if he doesn't. he comes from a family of creatives and/or craftsmen).

Hiraya probably stands about the hill of "Do everything now and I can enjoy free time with the people I like after." Hence, him being busy and timely, but in a way that is a smidge detrimental to his own health. (points at Akku's own thing. he also gets Mela to try and help.)

Hira also makes a point of memorizing names and their proper spellings. Just out of respect. and habit. He also believes in having to learn at least some basic of every form of magic available to you.

Mela likes to see the silly goofy side of people, especially so with those serious types (Like her dad), despite being a serious-ish person herself. She does try to joke around with everyone, to hopefully lighten the mood or get someone comfortable around her. But after she's gotten to talk to them a few times, of course.

She also does strongly believe that taking notes, writing down everything, organizing things will help things be easier in the long run. But understands everyone doesn't quite enjoy that.

Shared hills are:

Equal levels of respect no matter the age, species, gender and origins.

Strongly believing that being kind can be a hard

There are just those who are infinitely stubborn in this world and you just gotta drop it with em when you realize this.

They all make it a point to be neat and tidy everywhere after they're done with their business. Except for a "hot exit," where in they have to escape as quickly as possible.

And planning for everything, even if it doesn't have to be followed awfully strictly.