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ticklygiggles · 1 year

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Cheerful people | Iura Shu & Yanagi Akane

A/N: Last commision from @wertzunge! Thank you so much for your kind, kind support, Max! As always, I had a lot of fun writing your fics and I hope you enjoyed them too! Thank you for being so patient with me! I hope you enjoy this fic and that you don't find them too ooc!

Summary: Iura invited his friends to a studying session that day, but why is Yanagi the only one there? While they wait for the others to arrived, they'll spend their time bonding!

This is totally platonic, but idk why everything I write seems romantic to me??? sjns

Gentle, polite, and mild-mannered boy, even while struggling with math problems and english literature, Yanagi Akane looked simply perfect, too handsome and breathtaking - and Iura couldn't help but want to mess with him, even though that way of thinking also made him feel a little bad... and kinda like some kind of molester.

It hasn’t been long since they started to be friends ‘officially’, and even though Yanagi still felt a little reluctant to call Iura by his given name, Iura couldn’t deny they have done some improvement and gotten closer to each other. He was well aware he could be a handful sometimes, but Yanagi seemed to accept him even with that very characteristic trade of his, and he even looked like he enjoyed being around Iura.

Or at least he liked to think so. They had been alone inside Iura’s room, studying for upcoming exams and, even though very focused on his studies, Yanagi didn’t seem to hate Iura’s company… Yet again, he was very good at hiding his real emotions and feelings, so could it be…?

A soft chuckle made Iura look up with a confused expression, his head tilting to the side like a curious bird when he found Yanagi hiding his mouth behind his hand, smiling humorously.

"You look a little constipated right now, Iura-kun, is everything alright?"

“Consti-!” Iura sighed, smiling awkwardly. “N-Now, I’m serious for once and you say I look constipated? So mean, Yanagi-kun,” he said, pouting for extra drama, and he was glad to see Yanagi chuckling again, shaking his head a little. “I just thought you looked a little funny. Could it be that you’re bored?”

It was a simple question: yes or no, but Iura sensed there was something behind that question, a second meaning. To him it sounded more like ‘could it be that you’re bored because I'm here with you?’, something like that, and of course that wasn't the case at all, on the contrary, wasn’t Iura just thinking about wanting to mess with Akane? Geez, he really sounded like a molester!

Iura whined, pressing his cheek against the cold wooden surface of the little table in his room. “Of course I’m bored. Don’t you get bored when you study?”

“Oh.” He was relieved, Iura could tell and he smiled, looking up at Yanagi expecting an answer. The other boy jumped a little and his cheeks tinted a bit pink.”A-Ah, of course I do… get bored, but it is something that we have to do, don’t you think?” He hummed, tapping his pencil against his open book. “I wonder when the others will arrive.”

Iura never thought he’d have his group of friends coming over to his house to study, but there he was expecting everyone with bags of chips and fresh beverages, however, Yanagi was the only one to arrive at their set time and he was not surprised at all. As soon as Yanagi excused himself and set foot inside Iura’s room, he started to study like a mad man, going through pages and pages of equations and English poems that had Iura’s head spinning. It was a little hot and Iura certainly didn’t feel like studying at the moment, couldn’t Yanagi and him bond a little before the rest arrived?

He stole a glance to Yanagi and found him with his nose buried into his book again and Iura couldn’t help but whine again, his legs kicking a little under the table, throwing a little tantrum like a kid. Yanagi looked up at him with wide eyes.

“What is wrong, Iura-kun?”

“Stop studying! Let’s have some fun while we wait for the rest! We’ll do plenty of study when they arrive!”

Iura pouted and Yanagi blinked a couple of times, looking down at his book, then at Iura, his book once again and then at Iura one more time before he spoke again.

“But… we can at least do homework, right? So we don’t have to do it la-

“No! That’s boring! We’ll do it later!”

Oh, his expression was so funny! Iura wanted to burst into laughter. Yanagi didn’t have any idea what to do or say! Iura couldn’t help but want to tease him some more, but what was Yanagi’s limit? He wouldn’t like to overstep it and make him feel bad in any way, not when he was finally opening up and being his true self around others. Besides, Iura was just playing around, he could easily put himself to study as well, but where was the fun in that?

“I-Iura-kun… listen, I am not against waiting for the others to study,” he said, trying to reason with Iura, “but if we do at least our homework, we’ll have more time to have fun, don’t you think?”

He sounded just like a parent, oh goodness, Iura really wanted to laugh! A parent trying to convince their little kid to stop throwing a tantrum over a candy in a store. Yanagi was hilarious! Maybe Iura could push this a little more?

He chuckled a little, “I think you need a little convincing, Yanagi-kun.”

“C-Convincement?”

“Yes! Maybe I should force you to stop studying and do homework?” Iura hummed in thought, tapping his chin with one of his fingers. “Ah! Maybe I could tickle you? That way you would definitely stop that pencil of yours!”

“T-Tickle me?!”

This time Iura couldn’t stop himself from laughing. Yanagi’s expression was one of pure horror, his cheeks turning pinker as he started to sweat a little.

Iura smirked, “oh? Are you very ticklish, Yanagi-kun?”

Yanagi gasped when Iura moved forward over the table to reach for him and before Iura could react, the other boy had sprung up on his feet and quickly moved away from his spot. Iura blinked and he looked at Yanagi, who had his hands raised in some kind of shield as his torso arched backwards. Iura blinked and as he looked up, he laughed and also stood on his own feet, his hands also raised, showing all ten fingers wiggling viciously.

“Oh, Yanagi-kun, you are very ticklish!” Iura said, taking a single step forward that made Yanagi take two back and away from him. “You shouldn’t have let me know!”

“I- I didn’t say anything! I’m just- I’m n-not ticklish! You just- ah! No, wait!”

And so, the chasing started and the two of them staggered every three steps, almost falling on top of the table or the bed. Iura was giggling like a kid and Yanagi let out little squeaks every time he felt the brush of a hand against his back, almost catching him.

“I-Iuhura-kun!”

Iura gasped, “are you giggling already, Yanagi-kun? Oh, you’ll be dead when I get my hands on you!”

Yanagi squeaked again, “y-you sohound like a peherv!"

“What?! Oh, now you’ll see- ah, wait, careful!” Iura wasn’t sure how, but Yanagi was suddenly slipping with God-knows-what and falling face first, thankfully, over the bed. Iura’s heart stopped for a second before he gasped and hurriedly neared the bed, placing a hand against Yanagi’s back. “Goodness, Yanagi-kun, are you alright?!”

“Y-Yes,” he said, a little breathless and with his cheeks pink. “That was scary, I thought- ah! N-no, nohohoho! Ahahahaha!”

“Aha!” After making sure he was alright, Iura had slowly darted his hands towards Yanagi’s sides, and in a single breath, he latched them to Yanagi’s body and started to squeeze, sending the boy into a fit of giggles as he squirmed on the bed. “Oh no, Yanagi-kun was distracted!” Iura taunted, giggling to himself.

Yanagi flushed to the tip of his ears and he tried to get himself up, but everytime he pulled his arms away from his sides, Iura would speed up his attack and the poor boy would collapse on the bed again, pressing his arms to his sides and giggling brightly.

Iura found all of this hilarious, seeing someone like Yanagi, as perfect as he always was, giggling and squirming around like this, was something only cool people like himself could see. He giggled and laughed at Yanagi’s reactions, Iura’s fingers squeezing at his waist, earning high-pitched giggles, then he clawed at his ribs, making Yanagi shriek as his giggles turned into cackles, and let's not even talk about how he reacted when Iura's fingers went up to the hollows of Yanagi’s armpits! Iura thought this was imagining all of this, but he certainly wasn't.

“AHAHAHA! Iuhuhurahaha-kuhuhun!” Yanagi laughed, trying to catch Iura’s hands now squeezing those muscles above his hips. “Thihis is unfahahair!”

“Well, I did tell you I was going to do it, didn’t I?” Iura said, laughing when Yanagi let out a desperate laugh as Iura vibrated his fingers against his hip bones. “How can you go around being this ticklish, Yanagi-kun?”

“I’m nohohot thihihis tihihicklish! Yohohu’re juhuhust- plehehease!”

“Ouch!” Iura whined when a heel suddenly connected with the middle of his spine. “Now now, Yanagi-kun, are you trying to hurt me?”

“N-Nohoho! Thihis is juhuhust a n-nahatural… r-reflex and- what, what are you do- NO! NAHAT THEHERE!”

Iura couldn’t help but throw his head back with a laugh when Yanagi let out an honest-to-God shriek when he felt nimble fingers skittering across one of his soles; going all the way under his sensitive toes and then going after his heel. Blunt nails scratching at the ball of his foot and then at his arch. Yanagi’s laughter had finally turned hysteric, he desperately pulled at his foot, but Iura had caught it in an ankle lock that prevented him from escaping, no matter how hard he tried.

“Oh, wow, did I find the spot, Yanagi-kun?” He teased, but wasn’t sure if Yanagi actually heard him, laughing as hard as he was, he could probably only hear himself. “Is this spot really bad?” He tried again, a little louder this time and he chuckled when Yanagi shrieked out a ‘yes’.

“IHIHIT IHIHIS! Plehehease, Iuhuhura-kuhuhun!” Yanagi laughed, kicking his free leg. “I’ll dihihihie!”

“Oh, you won’t,” Iura said, rolling his eyes with a big smile. “It’s just tickling, it’s not even that bad, is it?”

“IIHIHIT IHIHIS!” Yanagi said, curling his toes to stop Iura’s fingers from going under them. “I’m tihihicklish thehehere! Plehehease, stahahap!”

Iura laughed. “Ah! You’re finally asking me to stop! That is my clue then, hehe.”

With a last wiggle of his fingers under Yanagi’s toes, Iura finally stopped, letting go of the captive foot and laying on the bed beside Yanagi. The poor laughing boy was trying to catch his breath as residual tingles against his foot still had him giggling quietly. The sound was making Iura smile and he couldn’t help but break into laughter himself, making Yanagi laugh too, this time not from the tickling.

After a moment, they stopped, giggling and grinning at each other.

“That was fun, wasn’t it?” Iura asked with a bright smile and sparkling eyes.

Yanagi looked at him and he chuckled. “Yes. It was fun, Iura-kun.”

Iura nodded and he got up in one jump, lending his hand to Yanagi. “Well, I think the others will be here soon, so why don’t we- ack!”

Iura gasped when he found himself back on his bed, Yanagi grinning at him, making him feel somehow, nervous.

“What’s the matter, Yanagi-k-kuhuhun?! Nohoho! Nohohot mehehehe!” Iura giggled when he felt Yanagi’s fingers wiggling against his sides, tickling him.

“Oh, Shu-kun, I think we can still play while the others get here, don’t you think?” Yanagi teased, easily following Iura’s body as he squirmed. “Let’s keep having fun!”

Iura gasped, trying to catch Yanagi's hands, "how- hohohow did yohohuhu cahahalled mehehe- hohohold on! You sahahaid my nahaha- Ah! Nohohot thehehere!”

Yanagi had used his given name! Iura couldn't enjoy the moment as much as he wanted to, because Yanagi had found that particularly sensitive spot near his ribs and he was cackling like crazy. Oh, the others will get very jelous when Iura tell them about it... but perhaps, he could keep it in secret until Yanagi said his name again.

Ah, bonding with friends was the best! Even if that mean being tickled to hysterics, not that Iura minded anyway!

#horimiya #yanagi akane #iura shu #ticklish!Yanagi #and a bit of #ticklish!Iura #tickle fic #mia's things #mia's commisions

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lastbluetardis · 2 years

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Sacred New Beginnings (17/?)

Summary: James Noble thought he traded away his chance at love and a happy-ever-after when he signed a contract with a record label that turned him into an international celebrity. But a chance meeting in a dive bar may prove him wrong.

Ten x Rose AU

This Chapter: Teen/Mature-ish, ~5200 words

AO3 || Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14 | Ch15 | Ch16 |

James doesn’t bother to knock; he simply opens the front door and ushers Rose in and out of the cold. It’s beginning to rain, and a damp chill slices through him along with a gust of wind. The house smells of roasting chicken and something chocolatey. His stomach rumbles, having already digested his lunch and looking for dinner.

“It’s us!” he calls, shrugging off his coat and hanging it on the rack by the door. Rose follows suit, and stays a step behind him as footsteps approach.

“Jamie!”

His mum emerges from the kitchen, her gray-streaked brown hair pulled into a messy bun high on her head. He is glad she stayed in comfy, casual clothes as he sees Rose tugging at her shirt.

He opens his arms for his mother, bending to reach her tiny height. Her bony body fits into his, and he takes a moment to breathe in her familiar scent that makes him feel like a small child again.

He kisses her cheek and pulls back, beaming as he says, “Mum, this is Rose.”

Any trace of her nerves is hidden by the broad smile Rose flashes at them.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Noble,” she says.

His mother opens her arms and envelopes Rose in a warm embrace that James is so thankful for. Everyone loves his mother, and his mother loves everyone; she has always had that aura around her that puts everyone at ease, and she’s dialed it up to the max for tonight.

“Oh, please, call me Vera,” she says, squeezing Rose. “I have heard so much about you! I’ve been hoping James would bring you ‘round. Well, I’ve mostly been hoping he would talk to you about how smitten he is, because he can be quite oblivious sometimes.”

His cheeks burn and he mutters, “Mu-uuum!”

But Rose giggles and says, “He did, don’t worry.” She then glances around and says the obligatory, “Your house is lovely!”

“Let me show you around,” he interjects, intercepting Rose from his mum.

His tour lasts all of thirty seconds—a house is a house, isn’t it?—before they’re back in the kitchen. His mum is mashing potatoes, and puts in an unfortunately pitiful pinch of salt. When he tries to add more, his mum smacks his hand.

“You can always add more salt later, but you can’t take it out again! Too much salt will give you high blood pressure.”

He relents with a sigh, then goes to the fridge to root around for something to drink. He finds a bottle of white wine and takes the liberty of opening it and pouring out healthy measures into three glasses.

“Some wine for m’lady,” he whispers into Rose’s ear, affecting the Scottish brogue she’d loved so much.

She elbows him lightly, her cheeks a lovely pink color. He sneaks in a kiss before handing a glass to his mother.

“What can I help with?” he asks.

“Everything is almost done. You could set the table, though.”

He salutes her, and dutifully gathers plates and cutlery from their appropriate cabinets and drawers.

By the time the oven dings, the mashed potatoes and green beans are steaming in their serving platters on the kitchen table. James’s mum takes the chicken out of the oven, and he winces to see absolutely no seasoning on its golden-brown skin. Rose reaches beneath the table to give his knee a quick little squeeze before she says, “That smells divine.”

His mother carves the chicken, heaping out generous portions onto everyone’s plate. James sprinkles salt and pepper on top of his chicken and mashed potatoes as he asks, “What’s new and exciting here in Flydale North?”

“You know my friend Harriet? Harriet Jones, who lives across the street?”

“Yes, I know who she is.”

“She’s been thinking of getting into Parliament. She wants to make some changes to our little constituency and doesn’t think anyone bothers to stick up for the little guy, as she puts it.”

“Oh, good for her!” James has met Harriet Jones a few times—she’s got a fierce tenacity about her, which she masks behind politeness. He smiles to himself; those politicians won’t know what hit them, if she takes office.

“And a new chap’s moved in next door.” His mum’s cheeks go uncharacteristically scarlet, piquing his interest. “I made him some biscuits to welcome him to the neighborhood, and he invited me in for tea.”

James hides his smile in a sip of wine. “Oh, that’s nice of him. What’s his name?”

“Robert,” she answers, her blush deepening. “He’s a professor at the university. He invited me ‘round for tea tomorrow, too.”

Before James can weasel any more details out of his mother, she says, “I’m not sure what he’s after. I think he knows I’m your mum… I can’t tell what his angle is yet.”

“Maybe there is no angle,” he says simply, reaching across the table to squeeze his mum’s hand. “Be careful, but don’t be a recluse, yeah?”

His mum smiles, then shifts her focus to Rose. “I’m sorry, darling, I’ve been stealing the conversation.”

“No, no, it’s fine!”

“Psssh. James tells me you’re a teacher? An English teacher?”

The conversation flows so naturally that a tension James didn’t realize was there lifts from his shoulders. He had expected his mother and Rose to get along well, but it’s going even better than he could have hoped. Rose relaxes the longer they all talk, offering up anecdotes that coincide with whatever story his mum is telling.

Even when his mother brings up slightly embarrassing childhood stories, he can’t bring himself to be too self-conscious, not when Rose is laughing and holding his hand atop the table.

“God, you should see photos of the time James thought he could give himself a haircut…”

“I once wasted loads of my mum’s make-up trying to figure out how to use it. I ended up looking like a clown!…”

“James looked so dapper in his little suit going to prom…”

“I ditched prom and went out clubbing with my mates and boyfriend…”

“He has always been so smart. You know, he won first prize in the school science fair every year…”

“I was rubbish with maths and science, and my teachers were arseholes about it. The only gave help to students who were already good at it…”

“The first ever vacation James took me on, we went to Italy. It’s such a gorgeous country…”

“I’ve never been! Been to Paris though. Once for a school trip, which didn’t end well, and another time a few years ago when my mate got married…”

On and on and on they talk, swapping stories and memories until they’re nearly crying with how hard they’re laughing. He loves how open Rose is being with his mum, and he loves that his mum isn’t being cagey with the details, as she often is, for fear of raking his name through the mud in a future magazine article. But it’s like his mum instinctively trusts Rose, as he does. Maybe it’s because he told her how he’s falling in love with her, or maybe it’s because Rose is one of those rare gems that you want to entrust with all of your secrets.

It hits him suddenly that this could be his future, sitting ‘round the kitchen table into the wee hours of the night, polishing off a bottle of wine and eating far too much chocolate cake as they laugh until their sides hurt. This can be his forever. And God, how he wants this to be his forever. He never wants to show up at his mum’s house alone, never wants to sit through a holiday dinner without Rose by his side, never wants to not be able to share his every thought and feeling with her.

His mum has excused herself to go to the loo, and so he takes the opportunity to thread his fingers through her hair to angle her face up for a kiss. She tastes like chocolate and wine, and he deepens the kiss, catching her lips over and over. She reciprocates just as enthusiastically, slinging her arms around his shoulders to keep him close.

They pop apart when they hear the toilet flush, but he doesn’t go far. Instead, he rests his forehead to hers and tries to catch his breath.

“What was that for?” she pants.

“I just… I really…” I really, really love you. I love you so much my heart is too full to contain it all. I love you too much to put into words. He swallows thickly, and presses a delicate kiss to her lips and replies, “I’m having a really great night with you. Thank you for coming.”

She beams. “I’m having a great time, too.”

They sneak in one more kiss before his mother shuffles down the hallway and begins to clear the table.

“Excuse me, I need the little boys’ room. Then Rose and I probably ought to get going. It’s late.”

“Of course you need a tinkle when it’s time to do the dishes,” his mother says with mock-sternness. “Nothing’s ever changed.”

“I haven’t the foggiest idea of what you mean,” he says sweetly, but he winks and clicks his tongue before trekking down the hall to the loo.

He makes quick work of taking care of his bladder, because regardless of what his mum says, he actually does want to help clear up from dinner. But as he makes his way to the kitchen, he hears his mum and Rose talking in hushed undertones. He frowns and slows, keeping his footsteps silent on the hardwood floor.

What on Earth are they whispering about? Is it just girl gossip? Or… is it more than that?

He knows he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but he can’t help himself, and he stays out of view in the hallway, straining his ears to listen.

“Have you been handling everything all right, Rose?” his mum asks gently. “It can be… quite the adjustment.”

“So far we haven’t been found out,” Rose says. “Apart from some blurry photographs of us and some vague articles.” They’re quiet for a heartbeat, then Rose continues, “I know we’re going to get caught one day, but I just… can’t help but cling to the stupid hope that we can keep our relationship private forever. I don’t want the world to know my name. I don’t want to be splashed across the tabloids. I don’t want people photographing me any time I’m out and about, or if we’re on a date, or…”

His stomach drops and a sour taste blooms in his mouth. Of course she wouldn’t want any of that. Hell, he doesn’t want any of that, either for himself or for her. He wants them to stay private forever, too. But he knows that’s impossible. He’ll be back in the limelight soon enough when he records and promotes his new album. He’ll go around touring, jumping from city to city faster than a blink. He’ll be away from home for months. Be away from Rose for months.

“Oh, sweetheart, I know what you mean,” his mum says. “I was scared to death of the attention when James first got famous. I was so embarrassed by the photographs they would take of me, and I dreaded saying the wrong thing. I made so many mistakes that came back to hurt him, and I was so ashamed of myself for the longest time.”

“I’m terrified of that too,” Rose admits. “It’s so overwhelming. I’ve never had to worry this much about a relationship. I never had so much to consider. Going on a date takes so much planning, and even then, I feel like I’m constantly looking over my shoulder.”

Dinner sits like a lead weight in his belly, and he’s got a dull ringing in his ears as he listens to how hard it is for anyone to be with him. Why do people do it, then? Why would Rose keep seeing him, when it causes her this much stress? Why did his mother stay when she’s got so much anxiety?

But she didn’t stay did she? She moved hours away from you to get some peace and quiet.

James squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his hands into fists, trying to ground himself in the here and now. But what good is it, when his mum’s and Rose’s voices are still coming from the kitchen, commiserating on how difficult their lives are all because of him.

He can’t bear to listen to any more of it. He’s sweating in his jumper, shaking so hard that he’s not sure how the house itself isn’t rattling around him. His blood pulses and pounds through his body, getting his muscles ready to flee fast and far away, to somewhere his presence won’t impact the lives of those he loves.

He can’t breathe, can’t think. Just needs out. Needs to get away. Needs… needs… needs…

Without realizing what he’s doing, James heads to the front door, wrenching it open and stumbling onto the porch. It’s pouring rain, and the cold, damp air hits him like a lorry, stealing the breath he doesn’t really have and sending a bone-deep shudder through him. The air burns down his lungs as he tries to take deep, measured breaths, but he exhales before he can fully finish inhaling.

He scrubs his hands through his hair, pulling at the strands and clenching his teeth against a scream. Why is he like this? Why is he so selfish in wanting to keep people around him, when the only thing he causes them is pain and fear and suffering? He never should have let his mum stay in his life. He should have packed her away, even farther than Flydale North, and told her to never contact him again. He never should have asked for Rose’s number, never should have kept seeing her, never should have let himself fall so hopelessly in love with her, never should have…

“James?”

The door opens behind him, but he’s too busy pacing and gasping for breath to properly acknowledge his mother or Rose.

“James, what are you doing out here?” his mum chides. “It’s freezing. And you haven’t even got shoes on!”

“Getting some air,” he rasps. “Needed some air.”

A familiar hand wraps around his bicep, and he glances down into warm, whiskey-colored eyes that are currently furrowed with worry. Rose touches his cheek, and he squeezes his eyes shut against the tenderness he doesn’t deserve.

She strokes his cheek again, then her touch is gone. “Vera, can we have a minute? Please?”

His mother is silent for a few seconds. “Jamie, what’s the matter? Talk to Mummy.”

He shakes his head and tries to focus on his breathing, which is quite difficult when he can barely feel his body.

“We’ll be inside in a minute,” Rose says. “Just… please let me have a moment to talk to him alone?”

His mother hesitates again, and then says, “At least let me give you your coats.”

She steps back inside, returning moments later with their coats. Rose dons hers straight away, then helps him into his. His limbs don’t feel like his own, and he can’t really tell a difference in the cold.

His mother goes back inside, leaving him and Rose alone on the porch, listening to the rain pounding around them. He expects her to talk, to demand he explain this insane behavior, but she doesn’t. She merely stands beside him, rubbing the small of his back beneath his jumper. Her hand is warm and soft, and it’s the one thing he is able to focus on. He closes his eyes and lets himself feel the weight of her palm, the fragility of her fingers, the texture of her touch, the patterns she is painting along his spine.

Slowly, his breaths come more steadily, and his head isn’t swimming anymore. The roar in his ears fades to the background.

“Are you all right?” she asks quietly.

“Not really,” he admits, staring ahead into the darkened, rain-soaked street.

“Wanna talk about it? This seems… really sudden.”

He sighs, and leans his elbows on the porch railing. Rose continues stroking his back.

“I overheard you and my mother chatting,” he confesses. “I didn’t mean to…” He shakes his head. “Well, yeah, I sort of did. My own fault. I was curious as to what you were talking about. And I just… my life destroys everyone around me. And I wish it didn’t. I wish I wasn’t so selfish to want to keep you. I wish I could let my mum live her life in peace. It feels like everyone’s lives would be so much simpler if mine didn’t exist.”

Rose’s hand stops its stroking, and he slumps into the railing, hardly able to stay on his feet. He’s so tired.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” she murmurs, removing her hand from his back.

I’m sorry you feel that way, but it’s your own damn fault. You asked for this. You’re the one who wanted to be famous. You could’ve declined a record contract. Why are you being such a baby about this?

The words and accusations clamor around in his skull, echoes of things said by previous partners who were fed up with his childish whining, echoes of things he’s told himself whenever he has been fed up with his own childish whining.

“I wish you didn’t,” Rose continues, much to his confusion. He glances down at her, and she offers him a sad little smile. “I’m really glad you exist.”

He sighs and drops his head, staring at his clenched fists. “How can you say that? I’ve brought you nothing but heartbreak and worry, looking over your shoulder any time you want to be with me, thinking I was just using you for a fuck and a lark.”

“That’s true,” she says quietly, and his heart breaks a little to hear her confirmation. She covers his fist, giving it a squeeze. “But you’ve also brought me so much joy and so many wonderful memories. My life is richer for having known you, James. And I will never, ever regret any of it, the good or the bad.”

“How can you say that?” he repeats, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “How can you tell me that I’ve added any value to your life when it’s such a struggle to be with me, to know me?”

Rose hesitates for a fraction of a second, then takes a deep, measured breath. “Because I… I…” She huffs out a sigh, and kneads the heel of her hand into her forehead. She’s quiet for a few seconds, then she turns to look at him, her expression raw and more vulnerable than he’s ever seen it before. “Because I’m in love with you. And being in love with you is worth more than the inconveniences that might pop up.”

He’s too stunned, too stuck on the words I’m in love with you.

“But… why…?”

Rose cracks a grin. “Why am I in love with you? Beats me.”

A surprised laugh burbles out of him, taking some of his anxiety and self-loathing with it. She beams, and opens her arms for him. He gathers her close, clinging to her as though she might disappear, as though she’s going to fade away from him like a dream, taking those precious words with her.

“How can you love me when I make your life so difficult?” he whispers into her neck.

“Because you make me feel alive again,” she answers, feathering her fingers through his hair. “You make me feel safe, like I can tell you anything. Being with you is the most fun I’ve ever had.”

“But… your life is harder with me in it. Always watching out for the paparazzi… dealing with my mood swings… putting up with me freaking out ‘cos you took a photograph of me and I jump to the conclusion that you’re going to sell it to the media…”

“That happened once,” she drawls, flicking his ear. “You’ve gotten better about that.” She rocks them slowly from side to side and continues, “Love doesn’t always make sense, y’know. I started falling for you ages ago, back when we first met. And I knew it didn’t make sense, but I couldn’t help it. I fell so hard for you, which is why it hurt so much to think you thought we were just a bit of fun.”

James clenches his hands into jacket. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’ve already forgiven you for that, remember? When I told you we should try falling in love together… well, I was already in love with you, but I wasn’t sure I was ready for you to know. Now, though, I can’t bear the thought of you not knowing how important you are to me. It’s daft, we’ve known each other for a month, but it’s true.”

He holds her tighter. “Loving me is dangerous. The whole world will tear us apart just to know more about us. Everyone is going to follow us around to try to catch a cheeky photo. They’re going to make up stories to suit whatever article they want to sell. They’re going to tarnish your reputation.”

“I know. It’s why it took me so long to tell you I wanted to keep seeing you, after the night you came to my flat about the note I’d sent. I kept going back and forth, wondering what to do, wondering if I was making the right choice. But it’s no choice at all, is it? I’m in love with you, James Noble, and whatever consequences come with that, they’re worth it. You are worth it.”

His eyes burn, and he’s sure he’s about to burst into tears. His thoughts are a tangled, messy snarl, but the one thing that’s churning over and over and over again is…

“You love me?” His voice is weak and fragile, much like his emotional state at the moment.

“Yeah, I do,” she confirms, turning her head to the side to plant a gentle kiss to his neck.

“But I’m going to make your life so much harder than it should be.”

“I’m ready and willing to deal with it. If you’ll help me.”

He pulls his face from her shoulder, finally looking at her.

“Of course I’ll help you,” he says, reaching to cup her cheeks. “Of course I will. Because I’m in love with you too.”

The smile she gives him is the brightest he’s ever seen. “Yeah?”

He nudges the tip of his nose to hers. “Yeah. So in love.”

She giggles, and he finds himself joining in. The awful knot of hatred loosens from around him, and he basks in the joy of loving and being loved by Rose Tyler.

He bends to kiss her, softly and sweetly, as the drumming of rain patters all around them. He kisses her like they’re the only two people in the world, like they’re a pair of nobodies, living their unassuming lives in an unassuming world. He kisses her again and again, wanting to stay in this moment forever, wanting to capture this joy in a bottle, to keep it forever, to open it up whenever he needs a reminder of what happiness feels like.

“I don’t ever want to lose you,” he confesses into her lips between slow kisses.

“Neither do I. I want to be with you forever.” A rush of wind swirls around them, sending a chill through them. “But I want to be with you somewhere warmer, if it’s all the same to you.”

He pulls back with a laugh. “Let’s go back inside. But Rose…” He brushes her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Thank you for talking with me.”

She catches his hand and kisses his palm. “Thank you for tellin’ me the truth.”

When they step back inside, his mother ambushes him.

“What’s the matter, Jamie? Did someone write something nasty about you? About Rose?”

“No, Mum.” He wraps her in a hug and says, “Just having a bad night. I heard you and Rose talking, and it made me think… I make your life too complicated, and maybe you’d be better off without me.”

“James Corin Noble, don’t you ever say something like that again,” she growls, pulling back to point a threatening finger into his chest. “You are my life’s greatest joy, and I have never ever regretted having you as my son. I have loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you, and I will love you until the day the good Lord takes my soul from this earth. So don’t you dare suggest my life would be better without you.”

He plants a kiss to her forehead. “It’s just a bit of sadness talking, is all. I’m okay now. Mostly. But Rose and I ought to head out for the night. It’s getting late.”

“Are you sure you want to drive home in this?” she asks. “It’s raining buckets, and it’s a long drive. The roads must be a mess. The guest room is always open to you and Rose.”

He nearly argues, but he can see the apprehension and worry pinching her face.

He glances down at Rose. “Is it okay if we stay the night? I’ve got clothes you can borrow.”

“’Course,” she replies.

The two of them shed their coats, and they all make their way back to the kitchen to finish cleaning up.

His mother bids them goodnight shortly thereafter. She has always been an “early to bed, early to rise” kind of woman, the habit ingrained after twenty years of menial labor jobs that started before dawn. Despite the fact that she hasn’t worked in almost six years hasn’t broken her of that schedule.

James leads Rose to the far wing of the house to the guest suite, where he always sleeps whenever he stays over. They start getting ready for bed, even though they’re not that tired yet, and James turns on the wall-mounted television for a bit of background noise. He turns the channel to some unremarkable crime drama, then folds Rose into his arms, enjoying the warmth of her body beside his.

He intends for them to just have a cuddle, but Rose seems to have other ideas when she pulls him down for a lazy, languorous kiss. He melts into her, his brain emptying of everything except for her. He can feel every inch of contact between them, can feel the hot humidity of her breaths, can feel the bite of her nails against his spine whenever he nips at her bottom lip.

He loses himself, gathering her into his arms and tucking his face into her neck to give her dozens of tiny, searing kisses. She moans, the sound vibrating through her throat and against his lips. She tangles her fingers through his hair, keeping him exactly where he is. He obliges, kissing her neck and delighting in the range of noises she lets out.

Her skin turns red and splotchy, and he hopes he hasn’t gone too far and left a stain of love bites across her neck.

“Don’t stop,” she breathes, arching her head back to showcase the addictive column of her neck. “Love it when you kiss me.”

“Not gonna stop,” he promises, but he shifts his focus to her lips instead. “I love kissing you too much to ever stop.”

He’s getting hard, but ignores it, too wrapped up in kissing her. Rose, however, notices; she palms his erection through his pants.

He bites back a groan, and wraps his fingers around her wrist, halting her. “We don’t have to, if you’re tired or not in the mood.”

“I don’t mind.” She gives him a slow squeeze that sets off sparks behind his eyes.

But he presses, “Don’t do this because you think I want to. We had a lot of sex last night. And this morning. We don’t have to do it again.”

“And what if I want to have sex with you again?” she challenges, but releases her hold on his cock. “Women can really like sex too, y’know.”

This conversation feels stupid and absurd, but now that they’ve wandered down this rabbit hole, he’s compelled to carry on.

“I know that,” he says. “It’s just, I don’t want you to feel like you have to have sex when you don’t want to.”

She’s quiet for a moment, her eyes focused on something he can’t see. Her mood has shifted, and suddenly he regrets ever saying anything. He rests his hand on her hip and gives it a soft, reassuring squeeze.

“I used to be embarrassed of how much I like sex,” she finally admits, her cheeks growing scarlet from something other than desire. “Like… I grew up hearing that boys are sex-crazed animals and as a girl, I probably wouldn’t enjoy sex, or that I shouldn’t want sex, or that it’s dirty of me to sleep around. But I loved it, once I found partners that cared about my pleasure.”

His heart cracks a little, and he’s desperate to reassure her, but he doesn’t want to talk over her and break this fragile memory she’s entrusting to him. So he merely listens, and continues to rub her hip, hoping that his presence is a comfort to her, like hers was to him earlier that night.

“My boyfriends all loved that I wanted to have sex as often as they asked for it. But part of me was so ashamed that I craved sex and intimacy as much as I did. I thought there was something wrong with me, ‘cos nobody ever tells girls that we’re allowed to like sex. Nobody tells us that it’s something that feels really great, or how emotionally satisfying it is to have sex with someone you love. It’s always about men and their urges. I used to hate myself for everything I felt.”

His heart crumples, and he shifts his hand from her hip to her back so he can pull her in for a hug. She molds herself against him, sighing into his neck as she slings her arms loosely around his middle.

“I’ve mostly gotten over those feelings,” she says. “And it’s part of why I really liked bein’ with you, when we first… y’know. You’re a bloody good shag. God, I’d never had anyone like you before. You made me feel so good and you weren’t a total arsehole.”

He stifles a laugh. “You’re welcome, I suppose?”

“My point is,” she says, pinching his waist, “I’ll tell you if I don’t want to have sex. But it’s rare that I won’t want to.”

“Noted. In that case, can I thoroughly fuck you into the mattress? Respectfully, of course.”

She bursts out laughing. “Oh, my God, you’re an idiot. Yes, please fuck me into the mattress. Disrespectfully, if you want.”

He grins, and, like the loving, doting, obliging boyfriend that he is, gets right to it.

#ficandchips #dwfic #doctor who #ten x rose #ten x rose au #james x rose #romance #au #my fic #sacred new beginnings

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