#you know when someone writes such good fic

[definitelynot-aleokin]

I both write and read fanfic. I read more than I write because writing while in university is hard. I also started on fanfic.net, though I am of the younger generation. I also spent time on wattpad before moving to ao3. I tend not to comment unless a certain part really gets me. A side comment on a subject here, that I know a lot about and want to share knowledge about how cool it is and you could add this if the fic goes that way! And I comment if I fic has me by the throat, but I only do on the last chapter, not every one. Part of this is while I was still younger, I made many mistakes. I embarrassed myself by commenting. So now, I wait, I think, and then I comment.

When it comes to my own fics, I could be projecting into the void and still write. For me, it's not about how many hits, kudos, or reviews. I write for me. I found, and make, my own happiness as a writer. Still, I LOVE when people comment! I get a lot of squees and "oh this one part is good!" But none are a conversation. I crave the conversation, really. I want to go feral with someone else who is just as feral about the subject (gimme the discords!). I love counting my kudos and hits. I see what stories I have that get a lot of people, and I see the ones that dont. But that doesnt make me write the more popular ones more. I write what I want. I have so many ideas that I dont think anyone is going to read, im still gonna write them (when I have time). Because, if I want it, statistically, there is one other who wants it just as bad. Even if they dont comment or kudo. I dont care. I want to be a writer that I would have wanted, either now, or growing up.

I'm pretty sure people dont like it when I post something original instead of only reblog on Tumblr. It doesnt stop me. And it shouldnt stop you. Its easier said than done, but, create your own validation and happiness.

"should we tell authors on ao3 when we have discord conversations about their fics" i don't speak for everyone here but if y'all ever find a group chat discussing my fics you can should must and WILL send me screenshots of the whole damn thing. inflate my ego. gimme

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Listen I love the ‘dicks being ostracized from his family and self destructs’ trope in fics however

I would like an inverse just once (I could write it but I want this fic to be good so I can enjoy it and I am not the greatest writer) where everyone blows up at him and flat out lays into him and he just goes… okay… if that’s how you feel?

Takes himself off of the patrol routes and rosters. He’s off the emergency calls and his ‘call for city wide emergency’ has been down graded to ‘call for world wide emergency’ he’s no longer on comms with oracle

He stops offering assistance to the other kids teams, doesn’t send info for investigation and doesn’t go within 100feet of Gotham.

Takes himself off the den-mother, baby sitter, trainer for all the younger teams lost that involve any and all bats

In the beginning he vacates his apartment and temporarily moves in with Donna in New York and things are good because of course they are. They’re Dick and Donna a world doesn’t exist where they aren’t okay.

And then his presence in New York leads to a lot of the og core five titans interacting and they realize that they miss each other like hell and start to work together more and more. Until news sites are like ‘teen titans grown up??’ ‘Original titans spotted doing hurricane aid in Florida!’

Because Dick loves his family but he knows when to bow out. And he chose the family he made in the new teen titans.

And then one day one of the bats track him down in nyc and breaks into what is now Dick and Donna’s apartment and are ready to argue that they need him back and need him there for a huge Gotham wide event.

And Dick says ‘sure okay let me get my stuff and we leave in half and hour’ as soon as the first sentence is out

No convincing or begging or asking for money (cough Jason cough)

Dick is patched into their comms and he’s working efficiently except he’s not… acting like himself.

He’s collaborating with whoever they tell him too, no problem, he’s discussing ideal plans and co-ops and teams and how to best get it under control.

But he’s talking to them the way he talks when he’s offering aid to teams he’s not a part of.

Like the hero version of an acquaintance and no one can call him out on it because he’s doing good work. Work that’s on par with his work before this whole fiasco. He explicitly isn’t letting their personal issues affect his work.

He’s speaking but not talking

And Bruce remembers this… he’s probably the only one who does because last time he was the only one included. The last time Dick acted like this is when he first visited Jason and him after he had been fired.

Whenever Bruce was in the room and Dick was forced to speak with him, the conversation never strayed past business casual especially around Jason.

Batman and Nightwing got into screaming matches

Bruce and Dick were strangers

And now they’re back to this, 7 kids later, a million ends of the world stopped, they’ve bled together, cried together and clung to each other in pure relief after they managed to clutch victory.

And Nightwing was treating Batman Inc like a new team stepping onto the scene.

Once they’ve secured everything and managed to keep Bruce from self destructing and making it worse. Dick just leaves and tells oracle that he’ll send over his debrief in 3-5 business days and it was nice working with them.

And then he’s gone

No cave, no manor, no Alfred, no med-bay because Dick doesn’t stay places he’s not welcome.

And after they all talk about that and how weird it was and Bruce reveals Dick did this before when he was Nightwing after Bruce fired, where Dick Grayson didn’t know Bruce Wayne.

And one of the kids asks when he broke and stopped the act and Bruce just says ‘the day he found out Jason died’

And the Batkids kinda freak bc what do you mean?? What is he only going to come back when someone dies? Thats not? There has to be another way?? And Bruce is like yeah no idea sorry (bc he’s helpful like that)

So then Steph the next day resolves to go visit him, Tim isn’t the only professional stalker. And she finds Dick and Donna’s apartment and well it’s daylight and she’s in civvies she’s if she climbs in through the window she might get reported to the NYPD and she doesn’t wanna get arrested or shot to door it is!

And so she goes and knocks and Dick opens the door and just lights up

Something something this is such a nice surprise something something it’s so good to see you.

Dick had taught Donna how to make some of his mother recipes when they were kids. So now whenever they’re together for a long time they cook together.

So Dick who is usually living in a cluttered apartment with no clean dishes and an exclusively grab and go food is now trying to force feed her some of his cooking.

Because he picked up the habit again since he’s the better cook between him and Donna.

And it’s delicious and he wants to catch up and hear everything that’s going on in her life, is she working with new people, dating anyone? How is her relationship with her mother etc etc.

It’s a nice day and she stays late and never confronts him on anything until she sees how long ago the sun set and she needs to get moving.

He hands her paper with his number and makes her promise not to give it to the others or she will lose access to it, he offers to help her on a conditional basis as nightwing but only her, she can call him about the rest if it’s an end of the world or they’re near death and need immediate aid.

And that’s like the fic because the key to winning nightwings assistance is like breathing (optional) but if you’re Dicks family you have to care or else. He’ll love you and help you, when you need it but he won’t tie his life up with yours, he’ll spend his time with people who value his opinion and the person behind the mask.

Anyway cue all the Batkids trying to do what Steph did and fail because they’re neurotic shits who think bonding involves doing casework together or a steak out.

(The next person to crack it is Damian, completely unintentionally he has a fight with Bruce and can’t ask him how the fuck he’s supposed to solve this equation in the new stupid way they’re teaching him no he can’t use the old method they’re supposed to show their work so he pulls up to Dick and Donna’s in a ratty ass hoodie like plz wtf do you mean you work top down explain Grayson- and dicks like awww no problem kid)

[inlovewithpandora]

ᥫ᭡ — Just a Pogue

Artists — Rafe Cameron x fem!pogue!reader

Lyrics — Hearing Rafe belittle you to his friends and down play the bond you share leads you to your breaking point.

Music Advisory — Oneshot; all angst, hurt w/ no comfort, slight cursing, based heavily on scene(s) from season four

Duration — 1.7k

Words from Artist — This was a quick and fun fic to write for Rafe! It’s been a while since I wrote an angsty fic so I’m glad to have my toes in the water again, especially for Rafe because he pairs so good with angst! If you have any requests you want to see with Rafe please feel free to send them to my ask box! As always feel free to comment and reblog, I love reading y’all reactions! I hope you enjoy!!

Current Platforms — main m.list・obx taglist・navigation

When Rafe sent you a text to meet him at the Country Club you were excited, hoping that since he’s asking you to come hang out with him and his friends that he’s finally ready to acknowledge what’s happening between you two. Your relationship has been without a label for a while now, sharing moments that are intimate, intense, and real, making you feel like there’s a true connection with Rafe and that he’ll be officially asking you to be his girlfriend soon.

As you walk from the patio to the inside of the club you see Rafe, Topper, and his girlfriend Ruthie. When you’re about to approach, you pause when you hear your name brought up in their conversation, making curiosity strike you and wonder what they're talking about so you move out of their line of sight but stay close enough so you can hear. “I’m surprised y/n’s your girlfriend.” Ruthie twirls the straw in her drink while looking over at Topper with a slight smirk on her face, purposefully testing the waters to see how Rafe will react. “I mean she’s pretty pogue, isn’t she?”

Rafe scoffs and rolls his eyes as if he finds this whole topic exhausting to talk about. “Listen,” he says with a blank face while shrugging his shoulders and lifting his glass closer to his lips, “just because we hook up doesn’t mean she’s my girlfriend, okay?” He mutters out before glancing around and taking a sip of his drink, clearly uncomfortable with the spotlight on his relationship with you— if you would even call it that. Mentioning your social class and insinuating that you’re his girlfriend makes Rafe feel insecure, especially since in the past he’s always expressed his strong dislike for pogues.

“Right… I’m just saying you sure are together a lot. Wait, has she moved in yet?”

“I’m not living with a pogue, I have standards.” Rafe felt the need to defend himself against this line of questioning and make it known that you’re strictly just a hookup for him, that there isn’t any type of love in his heart for you because you’re a pogue and he just can’t be with someone who’s living in the cut.

The sting of Rafe’s words hits you like a punch in the gut, unraveling every bit of hope you’d been holding onto. You feel knots in your stomach, your heart pounding as you back away, each cruel word echoing in your mind. To him, you’re just a fling—a fun thing he can call up whenever he wants, never someone he’d actually take seriously. All those moments, those stolen kisses and soft words you’d shared, they’d only been games to him. You thought that Rafe finally changed, that his views weren’t so surface level when it came to being a kook or a pogue but it’s clear that he only made you believe those things so he could get in your pants.

You turn and walk back toward your car, your mind reeling as you begin to feel stupid for allowing Rafe into your heart, trusting him with your body, only to find out he never truly cared about you as he claimed. You feel like you were lied to, knowing he feed you with words he knows you wanted to hear and would cling to just so he can get what he wanted out of you.

Over the next few days, Rafe tries to reach out to you, sending you numerous texts and calling your phone more times that you can count, causing each attempt to reignite the anger and pain you feel. He doesn’t know that you overheard his conversation with Ruthie and Topper, but you still ignore all his attempts to get in contact with you and you eventually block him, wanting him out of your life after what hearing what he said.

While you're home trying to take your mind off the whole situation you hear someone banging on your door, making you roll your eyes because whoever it is can’t be that determined to talk to you. When you open the door you see Rafe standing outside, looking at you with a look of confusion and underlying frustration. He doesn’t enjoy being ignored and he doesn’t understand why you’re being weird to him all of a sudden so he decided to pop up at your house and confront you. “Why the hell have you been ghosting me?”

You shake your head, trying to hold back the anger that flares inside you just from the sight of him. “Rafe, please leave me alone, okay? I blocked you for a reason, I don’t wanna talk to you.”

You try to shut the door, not wanting to continue a conversation with him but Rafe’s hand shoots out, stopping it from closing because he wants a more in depth explanation on why you’ve been ignoring him instead of the ‘half-assed’ one you just gave. He stares at you with narrowed eyes, clearly not used to being brushed off by you because since you started talking their hasn’t been a day where you deliberately ignored him. “What’s goin’ on with you? Did I do something?”

A bitter laugh leaves your lips before you allow the anger you feel to rise to the surface and let Rafe know exactly why you’ve been ignoring him. “Yeah, you did. Maybe it has something to do with you telling your friends I’m just a ‘hookup’ and that you’d never live with a pogue since you have so called ‘standards’.”

He blinks feeling thrown off, not seeing the connection in the meaning of your words and where they stem from. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

“I heard you at the club, Rafe!” You snap at him, the hurt you’ve been feeling over the past few days spilling over. “I heard you tell them that I’m just some Pogue you’re hooking up with, that I’m not your girlfriend, and that you’d never actually be with someone like me. Like I’m nothing!”

Rafe opens his mouth, struggling to find the right words, but you’re not interested in hearing whatever excuse he’s about to make because you know it’ll just be a lie. “I thought you were different, Rafe. I thought you actually saw me as more than that. But you just needed me to feel good about yourself for a while, right? You just liked having me around when you wanted a good fuck.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he protests, his voice pleading now. “I was just trying to… I don’t know, keep them off my back. They wouldn’t get it.”

You scoff while pinching the bridge of your nose, feeling a fresh wave of aggravation as you realize he really doesn’t get it. “And that’s the problem, Rafe. If you can’t respect me around your friends—if you’re embarrassed of what we have—then you never actually cared.”

He reaches out, trying to grab your hand, but you pull back and take a step away, not wanting to feel his touch after knowing his true feelings about you. “You made me feel like we had something,” you whisper, feeling the sting of tears but refusing to let them fall in front of him. “That we could be an actual couple but you played in my face, Rafe. You told me that you didn’t care that I was a pogue, that you wanted me with you but clearly it was bullshit.”

Rafe’s face shifts from guilt to desperation as he steps closer, his voice softening as he tries to clean up the mess he’s made. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I was an fuckin’ idiot, and I shouldn’t have said that. I thought if I downplayed it, I could keep my friends from giving me shit about us.”

“So, you downplay me? Make me sound like I’m nothing to you just to avoid a little judgment? Do you fuckin’ hear yourself, Rafe? You didn’t just protect yourself—you tore me down in front of your friends.”

He looks away, clearly frustrated that his stupid words messed up things between the two of you but he pushes on, wanting to try and make things right. “I get it, okay? I messed up, but it doesn’t change how I feel. It’s just… complicated. You know I care about you.”

You scoff, feeling the weight of his words crushing you all over again. “Complicated? No, Rafe. It’s not complicated—it’s simple. You don’t respect me and you don’t care about me. You never did. And now you want to apologize and act like it’ll erase what you said and make everything better?” Rafe’s face twists with guilt, but his silence only fuels your anger. Every hurtful word he spoke replays in your mind, solidifying your resolve. “Too late, Rafe. You’ve already ruined it.”

He can tell that he’s losing you, that you’re emotionally pulling away from him so he starts pleading with you, not wanting to lose you. “I didn’t mean it. I’ll fix it. Just give me another chance—please.”

“No. You can’t fix it. It’s already done. You’ve made it clear who you are and how you feel about me. I’m not sticking around for whatever mess you’ve got going on in your head just so you can fuck me over again.”

His face falls, his frustration turning into panic. “Please, just let me explain—”

“I don’t want to hear anymore, Rafe.” You feel a finality in your mind and a final piece of your heart closing off, deciding not to fall into the trap of Rafe’s words again, knowing that if you do you’ll only hurt your future self when he fucks up again. “I’m not waiting around for you to figure your shit out. I’m done.”

When Rafe is face to face with the door he stands in place frozen, while his heart is hammering inside his chest. The sharp echo of the door slamming reverberates in his ears, a bitter reminder of how badly he’s screwed things up. For a moment, he’s too stunned to move, his mind reeling from the weight of your words and the way you just ended what you had with him.

A deep frustration churns inside him, mingled with guilt and regret. He never thought it would get to this point. He didn’t expect you to shut him out so completely. He knows that he hurt you, but hearing the door slam was like a slap to the face, a loud confirmation that he had lost you. Rafe knows, deep down, that he’s crossed a line he can’t uncross, that it’ll be hard for you to forgive him when the things he said were so harsh.

The realization that his actions have pushed you too far away hits him hard. His chest tightens as the panic sets in, his mind racing with how to fix things, ways of how to make you forgive him, but nothing comes to him. The words “I’m sorry” feel hollow, like a cheap way out. He’s played this game before, but now it feels different. You’re different.

He steps back slowly and walks to his car with his head hanging down, looking back at the door with a mixture of frustration and sorrow. He never meant to hurt you, to make you feel less than but the damage is already done. And now, with you shutting him out, he has no idea if he can ever make things right, if he can ever win his sweet pogue back.

Fanbase — @ietss @shimmeringana @ims1 @anything4yooongi @genesis-p4l-love @oatmealisweird @ilovechickfilasauce @brooklynadoresdior @jordscosplay @taylormarieee @rivivie @shadyshadyy @m-mally @jj-maybank944 @bakugouswaif @princessadaniii8

[stargatesg-1obsessed]

As someone who has only started writing this year, I feel this. I feel the pressure of feeling like I have to write just as good as some of my really good writer mutals or like the books i read, but in reality, they've been doing it for years, and I've just started. I don't need to be as good as them because I'm just going to end up critising myself for being a beginner writer and not having all the talent straight away, and that's just stupid.

All the feedback I've gotten on my fanfics has been wonderful. They're all really lovely people, and they're supportive even if the writing sucks because that's just what you do. It someone's writing is bad, don't point it out. If it bothers you that much, don't read it! I personally would much rather have one less hit on a fic than have someone be hateful in the comments. There is just no need for it. If you want to give them some tips, go for it. But don't be rude about it, especially when that person isn't a writer but is still judging them.

The whole point of fanfic is to have your own creative freedom, with the characters you love. And if your writing isn't as good as someone else's, or it doesn't sound as good as a book you've read, it doesn't matter!! All writers have off days, even the really talented ones with really popular books/fics. No one should critise you for your writing. They don't have the right. The only time it is semi acceptable is when you ask someone to beta a fic for you. And even then, it's not for critising. It's for helping out with any mistakes, typos, ooc dialogue, etc etc. You're not there to judge them, you're there to help them.

So please, if you see a fic with writing, that could be better, either support them, or just don't say anything. Because I know that writers need criticism sometimes, but what we really need is support. And if there is something you want to point out, say something simple like; "Loved this fic! Really loved how the characters interacted!! :D Although I think I saw a little typo towards the end when it says "the entire planet," I think you meant to put "the entire plane,". But it's not that big a deal, and we all make mistakes :))".

That's based on a comment I got from someone on AO3 who helped me out majorly with a typo. It changed the entire sentence and didn't make any sense otherwise. And they really saved me there.

But if you're going to say something rude like; "at the end, when you put "the entire plane," instead of what I think you meant to put which is "the entire planet," it really messed up the fic and it makes no sense." Then just don't point it out because I'm sure someone else with kinder words will.

Fanfic writers don't need to be as good as professional authors!!! Just have fun and create what you want, and what makes you happy. Don't be scared to post something because it's practise. We all do it, and we'll all improve if we have practising. Don't let someone else's harsh words stop you for doing what brings you joy.

At some point "fanfic can be as good as professional writing" became "fanfic should be as good as professional writing" and that's caused major damage to fandom spaces.

[wintfleur]

Rutger asks Stella to go to the hockey formal with him even though they are together, but no one knows yet. She goes and all the hockey guys are confused because she said she couldn’t come but now she’s there

౨ৎ we’re just really good friends!

── ୨୧ 𝓹airing : Estella Hughes (oc) x Rutger McGroarty

˖ ་ details ( g; fluff, humor?, suggestive ; lots of kissing. wc; 5,858 )

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( I can’t believe this is the longest fic I’ve written for this au omggg, this honestly has taken me way to long to finish so i apologize to the sweet anon who sent this to me!! I hope you guys enjoy it mwah 💗 )

au masterlist — you can find asks under #💌stellahughes!

°. — asks about stella and rut are under #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🩷୧˚ stella & rut!

“At this rate you should just write the paper for me” Mark groaned as he dramatically dropped his face in the book he has been reading for the past hour, his hat comically falling off his head when the brim hits against the dark brown wood table. Stella looks up from her sketchbook and pauses the sketching she had for homework, rolling her eyes at her friend's dramatics before responding teasingly “How much are you gonna pay me?” 

“Wait really? ⸺ what's your price?” Mark rushed out his question after he quickly snapped his head up to look at the smiling girl. Stella was surprised she didn’t hear the sound of his neck snapping from his quick movement. Mark rolled his eyes and turned his head to give the guy who shushed him a few tables away a fake smile before looking back at Stella, his eyes begging her to write the paper for him. 

“I was joking, now keep reading and be quiet before you get us kicked out . . . again” Stella trailed off to a whisper as she looked back on the memory of her freshman year. Alongside her best friends Lily and Carmen where holding a study group, her brother Luke and their friends Mark, Dylan and Adam decided to join them. It ended with one grumpy librarian and a non-stop giggling mark and Dylan. 

“We both know that it was duker’s fault not mine” Mark grumpily muttered as he loudly flipped to another page. Stella giggled and softly bit the cap of her pen before pulling out a pad of sticky notes from her book bag and writing down a few words on the light pink paper. She swiftly pulled the sticky note off the top and smacked it on one of the pages of his notebook. Stella gives mark a smile once he looked up from the book “Make sure to incorporate those words, it'll make you look smarter” 

“Awe well look, aren't you two just the cutest little nerds ever” Someone cooed from behind them, both Stella and Mark turning their heads to see who it was even though they already knew from the voice. Walking towards the circle table they were sitting at, was a grinning Ethan. Luca and Rutger trailing behind him. Mark laughed sarcastically before muttering under his breath “Dick” 

Stella giggled and greeted the three boys with a smile and a small hello, her eyes lingering on one longer than the others. The couple locked eyes and Rutgers' smile turned into a grin at the sight of his girlfriend, she looked so adorable with one of her knees pulled up to her chest in the chair, clad in gray sweatpants, a few sizes too big brown sweater and her ugg slippers. Her hair in her braid pigtails, tied off with her signature ribbon bows. 

It had been a few days since the couple had seen each other, both of them being busy with practices and Stella with extra studying. Ethan takes the seat on Mark's other side that Stella wasn't sitting on and before rutger could claim the empty seat next to his girlfriend, luca was already plopping down in the seat. Luca playfully tugged on one of Stella's pigtails before reaching for the Tupperware of cut up strawberries and cherries Stella brought for her and mark. 

“Yeah sure, feel free to help yourself” Stella smiled sarcastically as she watched him open the Tupperware and shove a few berries in his mouth. Rutger took the seat between ethan and luca, now almost sitting directly in front of stella. Rutger reluctantly tore his eyes away from Stella who was laughing with Luca, not wanting to be caught staring at her like a lovesick fool he knew he was. Rutger turned his attention to Ethan when he started talking. “So, what are we all doing on Friday? Maybe we could all go see a movie?” 

“I can't, I have my suit fitting for the formal” Mark sighs as he closes his books and shoves them into his backpack, knowing that himself and Stella won't get any more studying done with the presence of the three yappers. Ethan raises his eyebrows in shock and lets out a shocked laugh at his friend's confession “There’s no way you waited until the day before the formal to do that” 

“Speaking of the formal, are you going stella?” Luca asked the girl who started packing up her sketchbook, multiple books and pens into her book bag. Stella looked up from her bag and thought for a moment, last year she had gone with Luke as his plus one and had a great time. By the time Luke had taken her back to her dorm, her sides hurt from all the laughs she had, her feet hurt from all the dancing, and her stomach hurt from all the cake she had eaten with Adam and Ethan. 

She absentmindedly formed a small frown the more she thought about how much fun she had that night with her brother. But Luke wasn't here anymore, there was no point for her to go. Stella continued to pack her things, and shrugged her shoulders “No, why would I be going?” 

All the boy's frown at her strange tone, they all could see that she missed her brother. Rutgers frown was deeper, he really wanted her to go. He remembered seeing her at last year's formal, they were already friends, but he was still so nervous to go up and talk to her, especially with how pretty she looked in that green dress. Ethan raises his eyebrow in shock “You haven't been asked?” 

“And who's going to ask me hmm? You guys and my brother scared off the rest of the hockey team from even looking at me for too long” Stella questioned Ethan as she rested her elbow on the wood table and her chin on the palm of her hand. Besides I would have said no anyway, she wanted to add as she glanced at rutger who was already staring at her. 

“It’s not going to be the same without you there” Luca frowned as he looked at Stella, he had a lot of fun with her at the last formal and he was really looking forward to her coming again. Stella gave them a cheeky smile and shrugged her shoulders playfully “You’ll survive” 

“Listen ma, i'll give you all i got, get me off of this” The sound of stella’s favorite the weekend song ‘wicked games’ filled the silence of stella’s dorm, accompanied with the sound of lips moving lewdly against each other, and the shuffling of clothes and sheets.  Stella pulled away from his addicting lips and quickly attached her lips to his neck, sucking and kissing just enough to where it wouldn't leave marks that would come with questions. 

“Fuckk stell” he groaned in pleasure as he tilted his head back against the soft pillows, giving her even more room to litter kisses and love bites across his neck and collar bone. He tried to focus on the feeling of her lips on his hot skin and the feeling of her body against his, but all his mind could do was replay the conversation they had at the library yesterday. 

He didn't know why it was affecting him so much, the fact that she wasn't going to be going to the formal ⸺ Okay maybe he did know why it was affecting him so much. He had to go, and he didn't want to go alone . . . he wanted to go with his girlfriend. His Girlfriend that no one knows about. Maybe the fact that their secret was holding them back from enjoying a night out with their friends is what was bothering him so much. 

“Wait wait wait” rutger panted out as he gripped her hips tighter, gently pulling away from her lips. Stella pulls away with a small look of confusion, resting her palm on the pillow next to his head, her brown locks cascading around them.

A pout comes across her swollen lips from all the kissing, when she sees the frown on his lips, the look in his eyes letting her know he was thinking hard about something “Hmm, everything okay?” 

“Were you serious about not wanting to go to the formal?” Rutger quickly blurted out as he sat back up on his elbows as he looked up at her. Stella sat up and rested her hands on his chest, her chest rising and falling fast as she tried to catch her breath, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the sudden question “What?” 

“The formal, do you really not want to go?” Rutger repeated his question with a frown, his hands falling to rest on her bare thighs, his thumbs absentmindedly fidgeting with the seam of her sleep shorts as he waited for her answer. The formal is a big deal, and he just really wanted to go with her, not with anyone else, not alone, but with her. 

“It's, it's not that i don't want to go, i just don't have anyone to go with and i can't exactly just go by my ⸺” 

“Go with me . . . please” Rutger cut off Stella's rant, his voice trailing off into a desperate whisper. His eyes were pleading for her to say yes. Stella froze for a moment, her shoulders sagging and the rubbing her thumbs were doing on his chest stopped as she took in his question. 

“Rut” stella whispered with a sigh as she moved to get off his lap, instead moving to sit by his side on the bed. Her hands fall in her lap as she tries to find the words and gather her thoughts. Going to the formal together was a lot . . . especially since they were very much a secret. She didn't want to disappoint him and say no, but she also wasn't ready for people to find out about them. 

Rutger could see the look on her face, she was getting lost in her thoughts, her nose doing that cute scrunch when she started to get overwhelmed. Rutger quickly sat up and moved closer to her, one of his hands moving some of her hair out of her face, while the other softly cupped her jaw to make her look at him as he whispered softly “I know we're not ready for everyone to find out about us, but we can go as just friends, no one will suspect a thing” 

Stella looked into her boyfriend's eyes and leaned against his hand that was softly holding her cheek, as she thought on his words. It wasn't a secret to anyone that Stella and rutger became closer, everyone just thought of them as good friends, so going to a formal together wouldn't be so bad right? Like he said, no one would suspect a thing, just them being good friends! 

Stella bit her lip anxiously before nodding faintly “Just as friends?” 

“Just as friends,” he promised with a smile and a reassuring nod. He would make sure to come up with some fake excuse for them going together, rutger couldn't get a date and he didn't want Stella to spend the night alone while all her friends were out having a great time . . . which is the truth, in a way. 

“You will have to keep your hands to yourself” Stella tried her best to sound stern as she poked his chest softly with her finger. Rutger chuckles and dramatically falls back on his back from the ‘strong’ poke. Stella giggles and rolls her eyes at her boyfriend's dramatics and moves to lay on her side, resting her head on her hand as she propped herself up on her elbow. 

She watched as his eyes widened and a smile came across his pretty lips as he let her words sink in. Rutger turned to lay on his side, mirroring her position. Rutger rested his free hand on her waist and pulled her closer as he asked, “Does that mean you will go?”

“I would love to be your date to the formal rut” stella smiled sweetly, her heart fluttering in happiness when he breaks out into a big grin. A small squeal of surprises leaves her lips when rutger quickly but carefully pulls her down against him and locks her lips in a hard kiss. A moan leaves her lips from the fierce kiss, her hands tangling in his hair while he holds onto her waist, with the new position she was now straddling one of his thighs. 

The kiss lasted for a few more moments, rutgers hands traveling her side while she softly tugged on the hair at his nape, a small grunt leaving his lips and stella took that as a chance to slowly pull away, rutger leaning up to connect their lips again but stella pulls away causing him to pout. Stella looks down at him with a serious look, worried that he wouldn't be able to keep his hands to himself at the formal “I’m serious, you have to be on your best behavior” 

Rutger smiles cheekily and flexes his knee that she was straddling, a small gasp leaving her lips at the feeling, his hold on her hips tightening as he pushes her down against him, his eyes filled with mischief “When am I not?” 

“Are you sure I look okay?” Stella asked for the fifth time as she looked at herself in her long mirror, turning around and tilting her head to look at her back. She was biting her lip anxiously as she stared at herself, she was overthinking everything. Her hair, her dress, her makeup, in her eyes nothing looked right. 

“Babe, if rutger doesn't rip that dress off of you by the end of the night, I will” Lily flirted, looking up from the magazine she was reading to look at stella. The three best friends were in Stella's dorm, Lily and Carmen helping her get ready for the formal. Lily laid on her stomach on the bed while Carmen was looking through Stella's earrings to pick the perfect pair to match with the perfect dress she was wearing.

“You don't have to be so crude lils” Carmen scolds Lily with a small shake of her head as she looks down at the many different earrings Stella had laid out. She decided on a pretty pair of silver dangling earrings, she grabbed them and walked over to Stella, handing them to her with a smile so she could try them on. 

“Shhh Stella loves when i talk dirty, right?” Lily teases as she locks eyes with the said girl through the mirror, giving her a dramatic wink. Camren rolled her eyes but couldn't help but smile at Lily's words and the way Stella looked as she put in the earrings, she looked beautiful. 

“Oh yeah it makes me all gooey inside” stella was quick to tease right back with a smile. The girls could hear the underline of nervousness in her voice as she looked at herself in the mirror, they could see it in her eyes that her mind was running a mile a minute. 

Carmen sighs, she hated seeing Stella so nervous and anxious, especially for something she should be excited about. She moved to stand behind her and softly rests her hand on the side of her arms before she rested her chin on stella’s shoulder, locking eyes with the nervous girl through the mirror as she spoke in a reassuring and sweet tone “You look beautiful Estella” 

“Isn't she lily?” Carmen asked as she tilted her head to look back at the blonde on the bed, Carmen's eyes telling her to help her calm Stella down. Stella turned around and faced lily so she could get a better look at her, her hands were anxiously smoothing down her dress at her sides. 

Lily started kicking her feet back and forth in the air before she let out a wolf whistle, closing the magazine she was reading and bringing it up to dramatically fan at herself as she looked stella up and down, slowly licking her lips as she purrs “Meow” 

Stella giggles at her best friends flirting, mumbling out a shy “shut up”. Lily laughs and gets off the bed, walking up to Stella who looked at her with anxious eyes. Lily gave her a reassuring smile and placed her hands on Stella's shoulder to turn around to face the mirror. 

Lily rests her chin on Stella's shoulder and squeezes her shoulders softly with a reassuring smile, while Carmen rests her chin on Stella's other shoulder. Lily speaks in a gentle and reassuring tone as she locks eyes with stella through the mirror “Tonight is going to be amazing stella, you and rutger are gonna have a blast. you have nothing to worry about” 

Carmen hums in agreement and brings her hand up to fix a few strands of Stella's hair, smiling at her side profile. Lily smirks as she continues to speak “besides all the boys are too stupid to realize something is going on between you and rutger”

Carmen and Stella break out into a fit of giggles at Lily's words, she wasn't exactly wrong. Lily smiled triumphantly when she felt Stella's tense shoulders relax as she calmed down from her nerves. The three girls' heads turn towards the door at the sound of a rhythmic knock. Carmen giggles happily as she says sweetly “Your prince charming is here” 

Stella lets out a heavy breath and turns around to give her best friends a grateful smile “thank you for helping me get ready . . . and helping me calm down” she trailed off into a mumble with a sheepish smile. 

Carmen grabbed Stella's phone and her small purse while Lily pulled her towards the door with a smile “It's no problem sweets, now you have a great time okay, have lots of fun and dance until your feet fall off!” 

Carmen hands Stella her purse and gives her a reassuring smile before giving her a look of worry as if she was Stella's mother “But not too much fun, okay? Be safe and call us if you need anything” Lily playfully rolled her eyes at carmen's words mumbling under her breath ‘okay mom’ 

Stella surged forward and closed her eyes as she gave her best friends a quick hug, she pulled away and gave them a small wave before turning around and opening the door to her door. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of her boyfriend dressed so handsomely in a blue suit, a bouquet of tulips in his hand. 

Rutger looked up from his feet as he heard the door open, his jaw falling in awe as he took in the sight of stella. The dress she was wearing fit her perfectly, was it purple, blue, violet? He didn't know. But what he did know is that it's going to take everything in him to keep his hands to himself tonight. He let out a heavy breath as he looked at her in awe “Wow you look so, so fucking beautiful” 

“And you look handsome as ever” Stella gave him a flirtatious smile as she stepped towards him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer. The nerves she had felt were slowly disappearing the longer she was in her boyfriend's presence. Rutger smiled and wrapped his arms around her waist, carefully holding the flowers behind her back as he leaned down for a soft kiss. 

“How am I going to be able to keep my hands to myself tonight?” stella whispered once she pulled away from the kiss, a lovesick smile on both of their lips. Rutger was grateful that she couldn't feel his fast heartbeat through his suit. Rutger chuckled and placed a few kisses on her cheek before whispering seductively in her ear “I was just thinking the same thing” 

Stella giggled and softly pushed him away from her when she felt one of his hands slide down her back, getting awfully close to her ass. She gave him a warning look before taking the flowers he held out for her as he laughed. She brought the pretty tulips up to her nose, smelling them with a smile. She looked back at rut who was looking at her so fondly, she whispered “You’re perfect rut” 

“Nah, that role is already taken by you” Rutger flirted making stella giggle and playfully roll her eyes, she pulled away from him and handed her flowers to a smiling carman who had a smirking lily behind her. “Please keep lily’s plant killing paws off of these” 

“I will, have fun you two” Carmen gave them both a sweet smile as she took the flowers while lily playfully rolled her eyes and made her way back to Stella's bed. The couple said one more goodbye before they made their way out of the dorms and towards Rutgers truck. Holding hands the whole drive, knowing that they would have to pretend to be just friends once they leave the truck. 

 

“Is that stella? . . . with rutger?” Dylan asked his younger brother in slight confusion and shock, not expecting to see them here, together. Dylan had reached out to her the other day to see if she was coming and she had told him no. Dylan looked to his brother tyler who was much closer to stella then he was, tyler just shrugs and takes a sip of his drink before answering “i mean they have gotten closer, they probably just came as friends” 

Dylan nods and lets out a small hum, not thinking anymore of it. But he was definitely not the only one who was confused about the pair. Ethan and Mark who were standing next to the drink table, their eyes widened in slight shock as they noticed them walk in together. While Luca who was standing next to them was trying to hide his smirk by taking a sip of his drink. 

“Ready to dance the night away pal?” Rutger leaned down to whisper in her ear, a teasing smile gracing his lips when he said ‘pal’. Stella rolled her eyes playfully and gently hit him in his side with her elbow as they walked further into the large room. “you're forgetting the part where we eat a ton of cake too buddy” 

“Oh, how dare i?”  rut chuckled dramatically as he placed a hand over his heart after he winced dramatically when she nudged him in the ribs. Rutger had to stop himself from leaning down to kiss her when she looked at him with that sweet smile of hers. Rutger cleared his throat and blinked a few times, leading her towards the dance floor as he spoke “Come on we should get started before we get questioned to death” 

“So do I need to be worried – give him my big brother speech?” Mark questioned the youngest Hughes as they refilled their glasses. Stella giggled and placed the ladle back in the punch bowl, turning her body to the side to face mark as he got another soda “He invited me as friends mark, no big brother speech is needed” 

Ethan looked at her with slight suspicion in his eyes, not believing her words. He’s had suspicions that somethings been going on between the two of them for a long time, it was obvious to Ethan that rutger had a crush on her. Ethan glanced behind him and towards one of the tables he saw rutger last and Ethan had to hide his smirk in his cup when he caught rutger staring at stella. 

“Damn i'm a little disappointed, i was thinking of a really good speech too, intimidating and everything” mark pouted dramatically as he led the other too over to their table, pulling stella’s chair out for her before sitting down. Stella set her glass on the table as she sat down, pushing her hair back off her shoulders and giving mark a small smirk “please, you're as intimidating as a fly” 

“Your deflecting” Ethan narrowed his eyes at her, sitting down next to mark. Stella looked away from mark and to ethan, holding her glass tighter as she gave him a teasing smile “And you both have been drinking too much of that spiked punch” 

“Seriously, me and rut came here just as friends” stella gave them both a smile. She technically wasn't lying; they only came as friends – well they came pretending to be just friends. She tried to justify her lie internally but nothing could make her feel better for lying. 

“Anyways, what about you mark? No lily?” stella was quick to change the topic, giving Mark a small smile. Ethan stifled his laugh by taking a sip of his drink, already knowing what happened from when mark ranted to him. Mark frowned and answered with a sad sigh “She threatened to kill me if i asked, apparently tonight is survivor sooo” 

Stella is stunned for a moment at Mark's response, biting her lip to hold in the giggle she wanted to let out as she thought of lily. Stella didn't even know where to begin on her thoughts of Mark and lily. Stella cleared her throat and gave a pouting mark a smile “she uh, she really loves survivor” 

“Yeah, it's a good show…” Ethan nodded, also trying to hold in his laughter, but as soon as he looked up from his glass and made eye contact with Stella, they both broke out into a fit of giggles. Mark rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest as he looks between them with an offended look “why are you brushing over the fact that she's said she'd kill me?” 

“I'm pretty sure that's her dirty talk” Stella said between her giggles, Mark rolled his eyes and nudged Ethan hard in the ribs when he started to laugh louder at his expense. Rutger, who just finished talking to a few friends of his coach, walked up to the table, only hearing the last bit of their conversation. Rutger stood behind Stella's chair, resting his hands on the chair, his fingers brushing against her skin and leaving goosebumps “Dirty talk? what are you freaks talking about?” 

“You don't wanna know b-” Stella had to bite her lip before she accidentally called him baby at the end. Thankfully ethan and mark didn't notice her almost slip up, but rutger did. Rutger smiled and secretly dipped his finger under the strap of her dress, caressing the skin. Stella blushed at the feeling of his touch and tilted her head to the side when she felt him bend down a little, rutger smiled, his eyes raking over her face before asking “wanna dance?” 

“I thought you would never ask” stella teased as she placed her hand in his that he held out to help her stand up from the chair. She squeezed his hand as she got up, following after him. Mark grabbed her glass and brought it close to him when she left. 

“Am I drunk or are they in love?” Mark asked as he tilted his head, watching as rutger rested his hand on Stella's lower back and led her towards the packed dance floor. Ethan bounced his leg, his eyes not leaving the two, watching as Rutger spinned her around before pulling her close. Ethan answered mark with a knowing tone “you're definitely something” 

“I'm really happy that you asked me to come, I've had a great time,” Stella said softly as she closed her eyes. The couple were somewhere on the dancefloor, swaying slowly to the slow song that was playing. Rutger had his hands on her hips while she had her arms around his shoulders, resting her head on his shoulder. 

“Me too pretty girl” he whispered in her ear with a smile, softly caressing her hips. They weren't exactly out of view from their friends, but just enough that they couldn't see the small touches. Stella smiled and she absentmindedly played with the hair at his nape as they slowly swayed to the song, she could feel his heartbeat through his suit, and she swore to herself that she's never felt that much peace and comfort before. 

Stella opened her eyes and tilted her to look up at rutger, a smile immediately forming on their lips as they locked eyes. Stella dipped her fingers under the collar of his suit, batting her eyelashes as she whispered, “want to help me find the bathroom?” 

Rutger smirked and shook his head softly, seeing right through her innocent question and smile. Rutger looked around them quickly before gripping her hips harder and pulling her closer, giving stella his own fake innocent smile “i know the perfect way” 

“I'll follow you” Stella flirted, holding back the urge to hold his hand as he led them away from the dance floor and out of the function room. But once they were alone, Rutger was quick to lock their fingers and pull her into his side, missing the feeling of her against him. Stella giggled at how eagerly Rutger pulled her into the storage closet. 

“rut if we get caught” stella trailed off in a whisper as she looked up at her boyfriend, her tone had worry in it but her eyes were filled with mischief. Rutger softly pressed her against the door, his knee between her thighs. “don't worry pretty” rutger whispered back before he turned his head to look around the small dimly lit storage room as he continued with a smile “I don't think they are gonna need Christmas decorations any time soon” 

Stella giggled at his sassiness and softly cupped his jaw to make him look back at her, attaching their lips in a feverish kiss before he could say anything else. A small grunt of surprise leaves his lips, but it was swallowed up as the kiss got more heated. Stella’s head was gently pressed against the door, his hands traveling up and down her sides while her hands got lost under his blazer. 

The kiss they shared was filled with passion and their touches were eager, as if they had been starved of each other for weeks but it truly has only been a couple hours. Keeping their hands to themselves was a lot harder than they thought it would be, the two of them almost slipping up in front of their friends many times throughout the night. 

Rutger tilted his head, leaving a trail of wet kisses down her jaw and neck and once he found that sweet spot on her neck, soft whimpers and gasps left Stella's parted lips. Rutger hummed in appreciation at the pretty sounds leaving his girl's lips. He moved his right hand up to slowly pull down the thin strap of her dress, kissing down her shoulder. Stella giggled at the ticklish feeling of her boyfriend's soft lips and touch. He smiled and whispered against her skin “feel good?” 

“You know it does” stella pouted as he continued to tease her with his soft kisses, only making her needier for more. The dimly lit storage room was starting to feel stuffy, and every second that passed made her want them to sneak away to her dorm room. She was pulled away from her thoughts at the feeling of her boyfriend softly nipping at her neck, making her his in surprise “Rut!” 

Rutger chuckled and before he could say some sassy remark Stella's phone that was in his blazer pocket started buzzing - someone was calling her. They both wanted to ignore it, but Stella knew she couldn't, what if it was important? Rutger sighed when he felt her slip her hands into his blazer to pull her phone out of his inner pocket. Her eyes widening slightly when she saw that it was Luke who was calling her, rutger dramatically wincing when he saw as well, making her roll her eyes and playfully slap his chest before she answered. 

“Hello?” stella answered as she held her phone up, putting it on speaker and turning down the volume so Rutger could hear. They can hear the sound of someone moving around before they hear Luke’s voice “uh heyyy sis, what are you up too?” 

Stella looks away from her phone and to Rutger, both of them giving each other a ‘really’ look. They could tell just by his tone that he was up to something, that he didn't just call her to ask what she's doing. Stella rolled her eyes as she finally realized the point of him calling. “Who told you?” 

They heard luke let out a sigh of being caught and they could picture him roll his eyes before he answered quickly “that's not important, what's important is that you –” 

“Luke, rutger invited me because he knew how much fun i had at the one last year and he didn't want me to be alone” stella was quick to cut off her older brother, knowing that he was about to go on a rant, and it was just better overall if she just spit it out. Well spit out the half-truth that is. A bitter taste was in her mouth for lying to her brother, a small frown on her lips. Rutger noticed her disdain and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, squeezing her hips reassuringly. 

“Okay…hmm that's oddly very sweet of him” luke muttered and Rutger playfully rolled his eyes in offense at his close friend's words. Luke let out another heavy sigh before saying “well i guess I'll let you get back to it, uh have fun– but not too much” 

“Okay i will, love you” stella hummed with a smile and luke was quick to reply before hanging up “Love ya too” 

“Hmm there is a rat amongst us” rutger hummed as he slipped her phone back into his pocket, there were a few moments of silence between them. “It was Dylan” they said in unison, before breaking out into a fit of quiet giggles, they were both on the same wavelength. Stella sighed before she leaned forward to place a quick and soft kiss to rut’s lips, but as she started to pull away rutger gently held her face in his hand and pulled her back. 

The gentle hold he had on her face was completely different from the passionate way his lips moved against hers. It was as if he was sucking the breath out of her, purposely distracting her mind from the lie she had to tell her brother. their lips and tongues moved in tandem, their hands exploring each other's bodies. 

stella moaned as rutger bit her lip as she slowly pulled away from the kiss, he chuckled at the dazed look on her face and whispered breathlessly with a mischievous look in his eyes “Come on, let's get out of here before people start suspecting things” 

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( AHHH I LOVE THEM !! when I tell you this has been in my drafts since like the beginning of the au 🫢 I am embarrassed to admit that, but I genuinely feel so good about finally finishing this — please tell me what you guys thought — feedback is what makes me want to continue to write !! )

°. — ( feel free to send any requests of things you would like to see in this series, or if you just want to share some thoughts! I would absolutely love that! Please comment if you would like to be added to the tag list! )

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[scarletwinterxx]

in the quiet of us - choi seungcheol imagine

tbh this fic came about while listening to milk teeth and did you like her in the morning by niki 🥺 dare i say i'm getting better with the angst haha ofc it's gonna end in a cute way

anywayss i hope you like this one🤍

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You and Seungcheol have been dating for nearly a year, and on the surface, the two of you seem to be an ideal couple—you’re the shy, introspective type, while he’s outgoing, expressive, and always the center of attention. 

Your love for Seungcheol is quiet. It’s gentle, steady, and sometimes, you feel like it’s almost too quiet to be enough for someone like him. You have always loved him in a subtle, understated way, hoping that your affection is enough without needing to shout about it. Seungcheol, on the other hand, is the type who wears his heart on his sleeve. He’s affectionate, always complimenting you and showing his love in grand, showy gestures. 

He never shies away from declaring his feelings to the world.

You will never tell him your reasons for holding back when the truth is you love him with every piece of yourself. You’re terrified that your calm, reserved nature won’t compare to the passion and intensity of his past relationships. You about his ex-girlfriend, the one he once spoke of like she was his soul mate. Cheol has always been open about his past, and while he never directly compares you to her, you can’t help but feel like there are times you’re falling short of the vibrant, adventurous, free-spirited image of the girl who’s still a part of his memories. 

You and Seungcheol are sitting together on the couch, having just returned from a weekend getaway. You’re quiet, lost in thought.

"That trip was amazing, huh? I love how we just got to be spontaneous and go wherever we felt like." Cheol says while looking through the photos of your quick weekend getaway with some of his friends, you watch the big smile on his face 

"Yeah... it was nice." softly you say, Cheol being the mind reader he is, immediately looks at you when he hears your voice

Leaning closer to you he asks, "You don’t sound convinced. What’s on your mind?"

“I’ve been thinking a lot about... us, actually."

Cheol felt his heart skip a beat, and not in a good way. There’s so many breakup scenes that start off with those same words

"Us? What about us?" he asks

"I know you’ve had past relationships. I know you loved… you loved her. And I... I don’t know, Seungcheol. I can’t help but feel like... maybe my way of loving you isn’t enough."

Your sudden confession makes him sit straight up, wondering where all of this is coming from, "What do you mean? Of course, it’s enough. You love me in your own way—"

"But it’s so quiet. I’m not like the others. I’m not as... exciting or loud or memorable. I don’t do the big, dramatic gestures like they did. I’m just... me." you cut him off

You see hurt flash across his eyes, wishing you never said anything. You should’ve just said nothing. To avoid his stare, you look down at your hands that were resting on your lap 

"You’re not being fair to yourself. You’re everything I want, just the way you are." he whispers, feeling more sad and disappointed that you think that way about yourself when you’re quite literally everything to him.

Softly, almost to yourself you say "I’m just scared that you’re going to wake up one day and realize that I’m nothing like the girls you’ve loved before. That you’ll want... someone more. Someone who loves you in a bigger, louder way."

He looks at you, a thousand things running through his mind.

"Look at me." he tells you but you don’t move from where you’re sitting

"I just... I don’t know if I can keep pretending that everything’s fine when I feel so... small in your love." 

Gently turning your chin to face him, he smiles at you

"You don’t have to pretend with me. Not ever."

"But what if I’m not what you need? What if you want someone who—"

Cutting you off gently, he speaks again "I don’t want anyone else. I want you. I love you, the way you love me, and it’s more than enough. You don’t need to be like anyone else, because there’s no one like you. You love me in a way that’s so quiet, so steady—it’s the kind of love I’ve always needed, even if I didn’t realize it until now."

You can’t stop the tears falling down on your cheeks, Cheol does that for you. He wipes them away one by one, with each one he says a vow in his mind to never let anything or anyone even himself make you cry in this lifetime. 

"But... I don’t know how to love any other way. I’m not like you. I can’t... do all the big things you do for me." you whimper

"You don’t need to. I don’t need grand gestures. I don’t need loud. I need you, exactly as you are." he shakes his head, holding your face between his hands

He waits for you to say anything else but you don’t. You just embrace him, letting yourself fall apart infront of the only man who knows how to fix it all. And he lets you be. He lets you cry in his arms until you fall asleep, he lets you let go of what you’re feeling. Whispering words of assurance and affirmation, letting you know you’re not alone. 

You’ll never feel alone as long as you have him. 

The next morning, after a long conversation, you and Seungcheol are sitting in the kitchen together. He already made breakfast for the two of you. 

You look at him, still feeling a bit unsure but more at ease.

“So... you’re okay with the way I love you? Even if it’s not loud?" you’re the first one to speak

Softly smiling, he takes your hand "Your love is exactly what I’ve always needed. You love me with a softness, a patience, and I’m so grateful for it. I love how you take the time to listen to me, to show you care in the quietest ways. You don’t have to change who you are for me. I want you."

This makes you smile, little by little your worries disappear. You know it’s going to take some time before you feel okay, it’s a war between you and mind and yet here’s Cheol ready to fight that battle with you.

"I’ve always loved you like that. I just didn’t think it would ever be enough." you whisper

He walks over to your side, leaning in and kissing your forehead) "It’s more than enough. You’re more than enough. Always have been." he tells you

Later that day, Seungcheol left to get some errands done. When he comes back, he surprises you with a small gesture—no grand gesture, just a simple note with a favorite flower from the garden.

"Seungcheol, this is... really sweet." you smile up at him

Leaning against the doorframe, looking at you with affection "I know it’s not a big, loud thing, but I hope it says what I’ve been trying to tell you: I love you exactly as you are. In your quiet, beautiful way."

"I love you, too. In my own way." chucking softly, you shoot him a smile. Walking towards where he was, you throw your arms around him. His arms immediately wraps around you, 

"And I’ll never want anything else."

[noiriarti]

The Winner Takes it All: Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Enemies-to-Lovers Modern AU) | Chapter 7

NSFW! Minors DNI!!! Summary: The moment the thesis competition was announced, you knew your biggest threat. Anakin Skywalker, golden boy of the engineering department. He's the only other person smart enough to beat you, and the only other person insane enough to stay in the lab until midnight every night. He's also an asshole, but you're starting to think maybe he's not as bad as you thought he was... Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader CW: descriptions of anxiety + guilt, piv sex WC: 7.8k AN: hello my darlings!! i am back!!! (from the dead aka first semester of my PhD) i've missed you all so much. this chapter took sooooo long to write because i wanted to get everything just right, but we have now entered phase 2 of the fic, where new shenanigans begin. stay tuned!

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, [Ch. 7], Ch. 8

Chapter 7: Burning

"Need to talk to you," Anakin blurted out loudly over the music, obviously catching you by surprise based on your empty, blinking face. The guy who was upsettingly close to you shot him a look equal parts murder and possessiveness, and Anakin's lip curled in disgust. His face looked eminently punchable, and Anakin could just imagine the satisfaction of his fist in the guy's cheekbone, or the way he would buckle after one good hit to the stomach.

Somewhere, a rational part of him reminded him that this was not caveman times, and that you had agency and were allowed to make your own choices, but Anakin silenced it. Feeling angry was easier than admitting that it felt like his organs were being torn out when he saw you flirting with anyone else. Thinking about kicking the shit out of some random guy was easier than admitting that knowing you had put this outfit on for someone else, someone other than him, was killing him.

"I--" You began, half-yelling over the noise, then your face twisted into something Anakin couldn't read. Annoyance? Hatred? Pity? "Fine. Let's talk," you finished. The man, who looked like if all the finance bros in the university were merged together into one terrible Pokémon Evolution, scoffed his annoyance, but you ignored him.

Anakin didn't even try to suppress his smugness.

You pushed past the guy, then past Anakin, all the way to the staircase tucked in the corner of the room. He was enchanted, brainless when he followed you. The air got warmer, stickier, and the number of couples making out along the walls increased dramatically. Anakin remembered when that would have been the two of you. That night at TKD. How he wished he could turn back time to that night and just live it in a loop.

Just like then, you were divine in front of him. Your legs climbing the stairs, the gentle sway of your hips that he had fantasized about. He couldn't help it. He'd be noticing these things forever.

You slipped into a bedroom, and it smelled a bit disgusting, but he couldn't care less because he was with you. Anakin closed the door with a decisive thump, then turned to look at you.

You had that look on your face, that one he hadn't puzzled out yet. Your perfect eyebrows were scrunched together, and he could see you swallow hard. He couldn't care less if you hated him. If you pitied him, wanted him gone. At least some small part of you would have still cared. He had prepared a whole speech--telling you how sorry he was. How much he wanted you. That he hadn't felt this way about anyone before, and that he wanted to make you fall for him the same way he'd fallen for you. That he wanted more than whatever the two of you had been. That he wanted to be your boyfriend. Long-term, preferably.

Anakin was ready to get on his knees if he had to.

He opened his mouth to start, but you interrupted him.

"No, I have something to say." The words came out shaky, and dread clawed in his stomach. Were you going to say you wanted him to leave your life? That you had moved on with the finance bro downstairs, who had a trust fund and probably said slurs? That you were excited to never see him again in four months, when you graduated?

Then, you sighed and said something he never would have expected.

"I'm sorry, Anakin."

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It set in later than it should have. Much later.

All throughout finals, you were desperately trying to stop thinking about him. That horrible feeling in your stomach when his face popped into your mind. Which it did, all the time. It was a sticky, terrible pit that opened up whenever something reminded you of him. The lingering smell of him on your pillow. His hatred of orange Skittles. You'd been angry before, but this was different, worse, somehow.

But you pushed it down. Exams mattered more right now. So much more.

Sometimes, the wave of nausea hit you a little too hard, like when you thought about how badly you needed a hug, and how you didn't really want a hug from anyone but him. When it got too hard, you'd leap out of your desk and march to the corner store, just to buy a Red Bull and maybe some chips. Something crunchy, something to puncture the silence of your suddenly suffocatingly empty room.

On the walk through the biting air, you would let yourself think of him. You'd let that pain in your heart blossom, and you'd just pretend you'd said something, anything else. That either of you had made different decisions. That you'd be walking back to your room and he'd be sitting on the bed, giving you that crooked smile, ready to quiz you on fluid dynamics. It was the cold that made your eyes water, you swore.

And then you'd arrive home, and you had to get back to work. Anakin Skywalker was not an allowable topic of thought at any other times. You pulled yourself through finals like a zombie, not letting yourself think beyond the next meal or next exam.

That was not the brightest idea, it turned out, shockingly. When you left your last final, you were blank, empty. You went home and collapsed on your bed, and you finally let yourself imagine his arm wrapped around you as you drifted off.

When your alarm went off at nine PM to remind you to get to the airport, the pit was back. As you stuffed things in your suitcase, then rushed out the door, you felt like there was bile clawing up your throat.

It was a disgusting feeling. You'd been mad in your life, but this was different. It made you want to jump out of your skin just to be free of it.

Around a third of the way through the red-eye plane ride back home, everything was dark and quiet, with only the whir of the engines disturbing the cabin. You slipped out from your aisle seat, just to stretch your legs and use the bathroom, and then you passed him. Or, at least, you thought it was him. But it wasn't. The stranger sitting in 16C had Anakin's nose and curls, but his eyes were all wrong, and his hair was just a smidge too light. He didn't have those little dimples on the side of his mouth.

But just the same nose and the same curls were enough to light that painful burn in your heart. How many times had you looked at those features, traced them, even before all of this started? Why, why did your heart leap for a second, hoping that he'd followed you, like in some 90s romcom, to declare his undying, hopeless love?

That pit in your stomach you thought was bad before was swallowing you whole now. Your skin felt hot, clammy. You willed yourself to move one leg, then the other, heavy like bags of sand, just to get somewhere private before you imploded.

By the time you slid the lock closed on the bathroom door, you were bawling. Big, heaving sobs ripped from your chest, and you couldn't place the emotion. Anger, sadness, guilt--it was all mixing into a knot that kicked the breath out of you.

What had you done? What had you fucking done?

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Things got a little better at the airport, when you got to hug your family. On the drive home, they occupied you with anecdotes about the neighbors--the house across the street had apparently put up a garish snowman--and questions about your semester. And it was nice to recount some high points. A couple of times, you were tempted to tell a story that involved Anakin, but you held your tongue.

When you got home, and it was around time for bed, you tossed and turned, but all you could think about was him. That feeling in your gut was unbearable, and you were debating whether you should just go retch over a toilet to get it out of your system. You only managed to fall asleep by putting on Criminal Minds, and even then it took you two episodes.

The next night, the same thing happened.

And the next. And the next.

The next time you were in bed, you made yourself confront it. Just for a second. That feeling that came up whenever you thought of him.

For years, he was just some guy who got everything he wanted. You knew the department was stacked against you from the start--being in classes where only four people weren't men was symptomatic of the department culture. But when Anakin interacted with the professors like that, got all the internships, you wondered if you could do the same thing. If it had been you networking with the professors, would you have gotten the same reaction? And you didn't know.

Anakin was frustrating. So, so frustrating for years. Because everything just came so easily to him. It was like he waltzed in every day to your freshman lab course and made breadboard circuits that were even neater than the professor's. And when he did so well on every exam, he didn't make a secret of it. He gloated about how his projects were used as examples. Initially, that rivalry was one-sided. You'd do anything to beat him. Later on, when you'd worked on more than a couple projects together, you could see it in his eyes. He knew you were a threat, good competition.

And when he was clearly closer with the professors and got accepted to an internship you didn't get, it was whatever. It annoyed you to no end and you complained about it to your friends, but it wasn't terrible. Those were minor things. Your theses were major. This was what you'd present to employers, to the world. This was what you were going to do for the rest of your lives. And he'd gotten it from somewhere.

If even this was stacked against you, why did any of it matter?

You were still furious. You felt like you wanted to punch something or scream into your pillow at how unfair the world was, how you just wanted something to be easy for once.

But the worst part of it all was that you knew that, in his place, you would do the same exact thing. Or, at least think about it a lot. You'd feel like shit about it, granted, but you might do it. That feeling of trying and failing for months to get the perfect idea that was equally attractive to employers and the thesis committee, to get something that even worked, was probably the most frustrating cycle you'd ever experienced. If someone gave you a ticket out, what would you have done?

You probably would have taken it, if things were bad enough.

And that meant Anakin wasn't a bad person. Just a desperate one.

You knew he wasn't a bad person, though. You'd seen him smile at you with such openness, such sweetness. You'd seen him coach freshmen, including your own roommate, to become good athletes. You'd seen him get you food when you were too out of it to do it on your own. You'd felt him put his jacket around you when you fell asleep in the library.

But there was always that fear that, just maybe, your first impression had been right. That he was an asshole. That, one day, the mask would fall off, and you'd realize he was just pretending. That your relationship didn't matter to him as much as it did to you. That if you told him that you wanted more than sex, he'd laugh.

And, when you heard from Barriss of all people, that maybe he was exactly what you had thought he was, a liar, it felt like he was stabbing you in the back and twisting the knife.

Looking back at it, it still felt terrible, but you couldn't move the image of Anakin helping you, keeping you company in the library. He wasn't scheming against you when he took the idea, he was just scared and desperate.

It was the department that had pitted you against each other from the start--curves, calling out the best homework solution, TAships, and thesis competitions. None of it was made by him. He was just like you, trying his best.

You also hadn't heard all the details. The idea for the hand had been his, just the idea to scale it down had been someone else's. Just like you'd asked professors to help you choose between ideas early on in the process.

The more you thought about it, the more it felt like your heart was being carved out with a blunt spoon.

You impulsively opened your phone. The texts he had sent you.

please come back we can talk this out please give me another chance

How could you not trust him? How could you have watched him cry and just left? What kind of a person were you?

Fuck, what had you done?

You were gasping for air, the tears rolling down your face and onto your pillow. You had ruined something perfectly good. Just because you were blaming him for everything that had gone wrong.

It was too much. It was all too much. The stress climbed up your throat and choked you, and you writhed in the sheets to try to escape the feeling. To just go back to a time when things mattered less, when you were purely happy and never worrying about GPAs or rankings.

Fingers shaking, you opened Ahsoka's contact and smashed the tauntingly green 'Call' button.

She wouldn't answer you anyway, you reasoned. It was the middle of the night, after all.

The ringing was painfully loud in the empty room. The tone sounded one, two, three, four times, and you were about to give up when Ahsoka's tired voice mumbled your name.

"'Soka--I--Can I talk to you?" You managed to spit out the question despite the thick cottony feeling in your throat.

"Hey, woah, what's the matter? Are you okay?" The grogginess left her voice as she fretted on the other end of the line, and her protectiveness made you feel the tiniest bit better.

As you spilled your guts to her, she made comforting noises at the appropriate places, and grossed out noises when you described that you'd had sex with Anakin. Soon, your breathing stabilized, and she said exactly what you'd been thinking, too: you needed to apologize, stat. Preferably, in person.

You fell asleep on the line with her.

In the morning, everything felt better. Manageable. You just needed to collect yourself before you returned home, and then sit him down and talk to him--actually talk.

For the remainder of the break, you immersed yourself in the everyday. Your holiday traditions were familiar, calming. The constant clamor of your family to get this and that from the store kept you busy. You'd wake up late, eat some lunch, get some coding done, scroll Instagram, eat dinner, then pass out in front of the TV. And just like that, another day slipped by. And another. And another. And another. And then it was Christmas, and all you could think was that Anakin was opening presents right now, somewhere far away. You opened your texts again, trying to draft a message that seemed right--Hey or Merry Christmas both seemed slightly weird. But maybe hearing from you would mess up his day, or maybe he'd realized what you had, that you were in the wrong, and now wasn't interested in talking to you. As you were debating, the roiling guilt in your stomach grew, and, when your father laughed particularly loudly, you were relieved to turn off your phone and pay more attention to the breakfast table.

In the back of your mind, there was a subtle thrum of guilt that never really went away. It only got worse as the break came closer to ending, and you realized you hadn't really gotten anything done on your thesis in weeks. You set a countdown on your phone homescreen, just to keep you on your toes. All it did was make you feel worse.

On New Year's Eve, when you were watching the ball drop with your parents, your phone chimed.

It was Anakin. The world stopped, and your mouth went dry. happy new year. What could you even say to that?

Happy New Year. I miss you.

Happy New Year. I'm sorry for everything.

Happy New Year. Wish you were here

Happy New Year! How are you?

All of them felt wrong. But then one of your parents said your name, trying to get your attention, and you locked your phone.

That night, while having your nightly stew on your feelings, you resolved to talk to him in person after lecture. Otherwise, you were worried you'd never bring it up.

On the first day of classes, you were resolved to catch him before or after lecture. Any time would work, really. You'd have two chances that Monday, and then two more on Wednesday if you chickened out. The fact that you acknowledged you might chicken out was a bad sign, but you ignored it.

You got there ten minutes early, an act that was generally considered psychopathic in college, and you were ready to zone out while the professor said some things about the goals of the course for just long enough for class time to end before speaking to Anakin.

Would he say something to you? Would he try to sit next to you? Would he even notice you?

You kept your eyes firmly trained on the board, and tried not to look too desperate as you snuck glances. Then, finally, he arrived, and you tried to look as nonchalant as possible. You made a point not to think too hard about how he was more handsome than you remembered and not to wonder if he wore that shirt just for you. That wasn't your place. You needed to apologize, not ogle him. You expected him to sit down somewhere in the middle of the seats, somewhere distinctly Anakin, but he crossed the room entirely. He even sat one row in front of you. Did he not even want you in his periphery? Your heart sunk. Maybe he had a change of heart after you didn't respond to his New Year's Eve text. Maybe he was just done with you. Maybe maybe maybe, your mind chanted.

The second that the professor was done, you rushed out.

The same thing happened again in your afternoon class, and you walked home regretting every life choice that brought you to this moment.

The next day, when you got home from your class, you entered your living room to find Anakin on the couch. Immediately, that nausea that had been plaguing you punched you in the throat.

There he was. Looking so unbothered, so casual, like him being in your room didn't make him think back to the last time you had been here, entwined on the bed. Like it didn't make him think of how you'd ruined it. All you could hear was static.

The worst part was that you couldn't stop ogling him, even though you felt terrible about it. He must have been working out over the break, because his arms looked incredible in that shirt, and his jawline was etched even more strongly than usual. The haircut he'd gotten over break left his hair falling just over his forehead in those perfect waves. It caught in the light as usual, and when he turned to look at you all you could see was blue blue blue.

And then you realized he was looking at you--at you--and his eyebrows furrowed. You could see him swallow, hard, as he looked at you. Was it a glare? Was he angry? Was he about to storm out? Who knew?

But this was your opportunity. Class didn't work out--this was it. You had to talk to him now.

You opened your mouth to say something, maybe "Hey guys, can I talk to Anakin for a second?" or "Hey, can we talk?" or "I think I like you a lot," or literally anything, but nothing came out. The static in your ears got louder until it was deafening. Your stomach roiled and, for a second, you were worried you'd throw up instead of saying anything.

"Hey," you croaked out. The awkward silence sat between you three, and you didn't see his expression change. Fuck. He didn't even say "hey" back.

You had to get out of there. Had to. Right now. You bolted into your room and closed the door behind you, then dove into your bed and screamed into your pillow.

Motherfucker.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Your next attempt to apologize came at practice the next day. You hoped to catch him at the end of it, maybe pull him away and talk in some empty stairwell. You crept up to the room, but, the closer you got, the more that tidal wave of terrible feelings threatened to wash you away. Through the door to Aerobics Room 1, your eyes found him in the crowd immediately. They were practicing some kind of form (pumsae? the exact name escaped you), and Fives made some sort of comment to Anakin which sent him cackling.

He looked light, and with the afternoon sun casting its rays into the room, he almost became angelic. When he laughed, and his eyes crinkled in that way that made you soft, you lost all your nerve. He was never like this when you were in class together, or that time he was in your apartment. Whenever he saw you, he got that look on his face.

But now, he was all smiles and laughs as he playfully smacked Fives, who repeated whatever he'd said and sent a bunch more athletes into fits of laughter.

Dappled in the sunlight, his face split with an enormous smile, Anakin was so perfect in that moment. How could you ruin it by making him have a hard conversation?

At the same time, you felt the anger at yourself build up. You said all those awful things to him, and you had the nerve to delay your apology?

But you knew that, if he heard your apology and didn't forgive you, that would ruin the day for him. He was just like that. And you didn't have the heart to do that to him.

Tomorrow, you promised yourself, as you took one last look tracing the contours of his jaw and lips.

As you turned to go, you didn't notice that he'd turned to see something moving in the windowed doors to the Aerobics Room.

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Ahsoka was fucking tired. There were approximately two people she cared for most on the campus, and they were both huge dummies. They'd proven that over and over. She knew something was amiss from the day the two of you fought/broke up/ended things/whatever, when you started sulking in your room alone and consuming an upsetting amount of caffeine. She started gently probing right when the worst of finals was over. She didn't want to rush anything, but a well-placed "hey going to go get some food, want anything?" might soften either of the two of you enough to let her know what happened.

She found out when you told her on a phone call. And, yes, it wasn't great. It was, perhaps, morally dubious and a little misguided, from what she could tell, but it wasn't clear to her why this was such an issue. Wasn't taking advice from others and collaborating the whole point of academic research and theses?

But she also knew you had gotten feedback from multiple professors after you'd submitted your initial proposal, trying to pick between several approaches, before one of the faculty nudged you in the direction of 3-D printing instead of plastic molding. And, sure, Anakin was a little more than nudged, but he came up with the idea for the mechanical hand in the first place. This was just a different application, right? And yes, it wasn't super duper ethical that the idea was just given to him, but what would you do in his shoes?

Ahsoka told you exactly that, and you sounded like you were choking on the other end of the phone. You told her about how horrible you felt, and that you felt like you didn't know if he even wanted to ever see you again, and she groaned. Of course he did. He was the biggest simp she knew.

So Ahsoka did what she did best: she meddled.

It started small, with mentioning the taekwondo team in front of you once the semester had started. Sometimes an anecdote would include Anakin, and she made sure to casually drop his name, just to gauge your reaction. You didn't even flinch when she said it, which seemed like a good sign. But the pulse in the hollow of your neck jumped. When you confessed that you'd failed to talk to him in class, because it just felt too awkward in public, Ahsoka nodded sagely, like she wasn't already scheming to give you a private time to chat.

Within five minutes, she had texted Anakin to invite him over to plan the competitions they would be attending that semester. Like she hadn't already discussed it with him in December, but whatever. A meeting between the captain and the vice captain wasn't out of the ordinary. And it just so happened that her room was free. Crazy, right?

She really couldn't have made it turn out this well if she tried. When you entered, and Anakin looked like he might fall off the couch, Ahsoka had to suppress a smile. You looked like you wanted to say something, like maybe you'd built up the courage, and she was about to say that, actually, she had forgotten an incredibly important errand she had to run at a cafe for 30 to 45 minutes, but then you just said "hey" and walked into your room. Ahsoka grumbled internally. What was so hard about just apologizing?

Two days into classes, Ahsoka had not-so-subtly hinted to Cody that he should host a party, just in case her other meddling didn't work. It was her backup plan, and, apparently, she needed it. So, after giving you a pep talk that this would be the perfect time to talk to Anakin because you weren't in class or a meeting, and after digging out some dress in the back of your closet for you to throw on, the two of you were off.

Once you arrived at the party, she watched you do a sweep of the room instantly. She knew what you were looking for, and rolled her eyes. He probably hadn't arrived yet, but she texted him anyway, just to check.

In the two seconds she was looking down at her phone, she watched you talk to some sophomore from the business school. He looked douchey, but he was cute enough and said something that made you laugh. Come on, Anakin, she thought, praying he'd arrive soon before she had to watch this guy flirt with you any longer.

Again, she realized she was great at meddling when Anakin showed up and beelined to Cody. She pushed her way through some people, and came to greet him, drag him to get a drink, but he'd already taken a beer from Cody, then insisted that they go dance.

At every opportunity, Ahsoka tried to hint that maybe they should go over there? Toward the other side of the room? Get some more drinks, maybe?

It took ten minutes, but Anakin finally agreed. He didn't see it, but Ahsoka was smiling like a maniac when she saw him take you in. When he started marching over, she was practically cheering. It was show time.

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As you walked to some quiet(er) room, your heart was pounding. This was more nerve-wracking than the first time you slept together, than anything you had done together before. When he just appeared in front of you, looking so intense, it took you a minute to get yourself together enough to form words. Was he mad at you? And now the moment of truth had come.

You pushed into a room which belonged to someone who had more weed than deodorant, and was covered wall-to-wall in dingy band posters. You didn't want to even look down to see how stained the carpet was.

But none of that mattered. Because right now, he was here. And you finally had the opportunity to say what you needed to say.

Before you started, you drank him in one last time, just in case. His deep eyes, the peek of collarbone through his shirt, his broad chest. A quick mental catalogue.

And then you started speaking.

"I'm sorry, Anakin." You weren't sure what gave you the courage. Maybe it was because he approached you first, so you couldn't hide behind the excuse that he didn't want to see you anymore. Maybe it was the slightly awkward conversation with that dude downstairs who seemed to have way too many takes on types of beer. Either way, you'd finally done it. You'd said it. Just apologizing to him made you feel lighter, but that was drowned out by the anxiety of hearing his response.

You were trying to read his expression, the draw of his eyebrows, the purse of his lips. This was the weirdest angry face you'd ever seen.

"Wait--huh?" Both of you were probably wearing the same expression--sheer confusion. Wasn't he supposed to be mad at you? What? You watched his eyes trying to read what you meant, and his plush lips were the tiniest bit open.

You continued anyway. It had to be said, even if he was just going to tell you to stay away from him.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that, you didn't deserve it. Not everything was your fault, and I've been feeling so guilty over the whole break that I just--I couldn't bring myself to tell you. I chickened out every time. I wish I hadn't… ended things. Between us. I'm--I'm so sorry." Your voice came out more confident than you felt, comfortable in the words you had been rehearsing for weeks in your mind.

Once again, the room went quiet. Anakin stood, as still as a statue, clearly trying to process. Behind the pounding of your ears, you could hear the bass line downstairs and the chatter of people, and you tried to remind yourself that if this goes badly, you'll just go back home, time would pass, and you'd be able to heal your broken heart in peace.

Then, suddenly, Anakin pulled you into a crushing hug. You couldn't breathe from the weight of his head on your shoulder, and the tight squeeze of his arms around your waist. The sandalwood of his shampoo was comforting, familiar. He smelled like home as he buried his face into your neck.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry too--I wish I could take it back, that I just never entered this goddamn competition, then you never would've been mad at me and--" His voice came out broken and shaky.

"Anakin, hey," you interrupted. Had he spent the whole break feeling like this? He should be mad at you, not just upset with himself. You could talk to him about that later, but right now you could feel his desperation to just be near you again, mainly because you felt the same way. You wrapped your arms around him until your hand found his hair. Burying your fingers in it felt so good, so natural. How could you ever have ended this?

"It's okay," you said as you rubbed his back. You could feel his breaths were ragged, and he squeezed you even tighter. "I shouldn't have been that mad at you in the first place--I just got so upset that you had some sort of upper hand, and I went crazy," you continued.

"Fuck," Anakin muttered against your skin. The shift of his lips over your collarbone reminded you of the last time he'd kissed up and down your neck. You took a deep breath. Now was not the time to get horny.

Anakin pulled away, but kept his arms wrapped around your waist. Your heart clenched when you saw the mix of anguish and relief dancing across his features. His eyes were swimming, and a tear rolled down his cheek, then another, then another, until he was crying.

"Fuck," he mumbled again as he pulled one hand away from you to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand, almost as if he was embarrassed. Despite it all, you found him immeasurably cute.

"Uh, I was gonna come up here and beg you for another chance--I just couldn't watch you move on or talk to that guy downstairs, it hurts too much," he confessed. His eyes met yours and you felt that familiar jolt of joy that he brought, this time over the idea that he was jealous, possessive even, over you.

"I'm not moving on." It was a risk to say it, but you did it anyway. It was definitely true, but it came out more careful, more tentative than you wanted. Because there was a chance he didn't mean it that way, and you'd just shown your hand.

Fortunately, he had a terrible poker face. Even streaked with tears, a little bit sweaty, and standing in a room that stank like weed, Anakin's smile burst onto his face and shone like the sun.

You'd forgotten how many butterflies that smile gave you. Tentatively, you moved your hand from his shoulder to his jaw. His eyes slid closed and he leaned into your touch, like you might disappear if he didn't keep you there.

Then, someone hollered in the hallway, something about a round of shots, and Anakin's eyes snapped open.

"Do you want to go somewhere quieter to talk more?" You asked. "We can walk back home or--" Anakin cut you off.

"Um, if you don't hate me right now, and I don't--I could never--hate you, can I just--" His hungry eyes flicked down to your lips, and you knew immediately that the answer was yes. Yes. A hundred times yes.

You didn't think too many brain cells were firing, so you just nodded. His smile widened, if that was even possible, and he pulled you into him just like he had so many times before.

As he got closer, your heart started pounding, and your palms got sweaty, like this was a first date. And, in a way, it kind of was. It was your first time kissing as more than just enemies who fucked every once in a while, but as something else, something more.

When his lips met yours, he was so heartbreakingly tender, you melted under his touch. Anakin was so warm when he held you this close, and you were half expecting him to start deepening the kiss when he pulled away so that your foreheads were touching.

"I fucking missed you so much," he whispered reverently, then immediately kissed you again, deeper this time.

His kiss was all-consuming, like a whirlpool sucking you in, until you'd forgotten everything except how he felt against you. Your kisses grew deeper, until you felt his tongue gently brush your lips, and you immediately opened them.

Everything felt new, gentle, and you relished it. One of his hands slid down to your ass, squeezing gently, and you felt yourself get wet. You'd been pent up for weeks, and the simultaneous relief of being with him again and the way he had all but told you that he had feelings for you were making you dizzy with want for him.

Your hands grasped anything they could, his shoulders, his hair, his arms, as much of him as you could reach. Did he even know what he did to you?

He broke the kiss, just for a second, and you were about to protest when he pulled the two of you back until he was sitting on the twin bed shoved into the corner of the room. You stood between his legs, his hands trailing down the backs of your thighs.

You swung one knee over his hips, lowering yourself until you were straddling him. Anakin watched you, his eyes dark and mischievous, and let out a small "fuck" when you were finally in his lap. He was a sucker for this position, you knew. This was exactly how you'd gotten together, at that stupid night of truth and dare. The memory filled your heart with warmth.

As you settled onto his legs, you felt a familiar hardness under you, and the butterflies returned. You loved doing this to him, making him care about nothing other than the moment you were sharing. You not-so-subtly shifted your hips as you kissed him again, and you were rewarded with a low moan.

His hands kept teasing you, running up and down the sides of your thighs as he captured your lower lip between his teeth gently. You groaned loudly into his mouth, and he used that moment to slide a hand up your inner thigh, until he had passed the hem of your dress.

Using all the willpower you had left, you pulled away. You were both panting, and he was a vision when you looked at him again, his pupils blown wide and his lips red and wet from your kiss.

"Anakin, are you sure this is okay?" You desperately wanted him to say yes, because it felt like you might implode if you didn't have him inside you tonight, but if he was this emotional, you had to say something. Give him an out.

Instead, Anakin looked at you like a man starved. His pupils were wide, and, even through the tears, he looked ravenously hungry for you. Like you made his world spin.

"Yes--God, I've thought of you every day, all the time. I don't want to wait any more than I have to, unless you don't want to, or if you think you'd regret it--" He was rambling. It was adorable.

"I've never regretted you," you said, cutting him off. "But are you sure you're sure?" You stared into his eyes, looking for any trace of worry, or hesitation. All you found was desire, and something softer. Affection, love, maybe.

He rolled his hips, pressing his hard cock against you.

"Can't you feel how much I want you?" Usually, a line like that would make you roll your eyes, but with the mischief in his eyes and the feeling of him hard underneath you, it only served to make you wetter.

You immediately grabbed his shirt to pull his lips to yours again, rocking your hips over and over until he matched your rhythm. The hand on your inner thigh crept upward, until it reached your clothed pussy.

You'd forgotten how well he knew your body, like he'd been made to touch you. His fingers found the perfect angle to stroke your clit, and you became a mess, your kisses sloppy.

After he'd teased you for a long enough time to make you a wreck on top of him, Anakin pulled your underwear aside. He dipped just one finger inside, and he groaned at how soaked you were.

"Can I fuck you, baby?" He asked, as if the answer would be anything but please. You nodded as hard as you could, and he started unzipping his jeans as fast as he could while keeping his eyes on you. You weren't sure he'd ever look away.

Meanwhile, you stood up off of him just enough to pull your soaked panties down your legs and kick them off. As he pulled his cock out, you vowed to give him head the next time you were together, because goddamn, you'd forgotten how nice of a sight he was like this.

He pulled a condom out of his pocket and rolled it on, still looking at you and only fumbling a couple of times in his trance.

"C'mere," he grabbed your waist and pulled until you were straddling him again, right above his cock. He grabbed your hips with one hand, and lined himself up with the other, then slowly started guiding you down onto him.

As he split you open, you forgot how to think, or talk, or do anything other than feel him inside of you. Every ridge, every inch. You let your head fall back as a keening moan erupted from your throat. He kissed everywhere he could, up and down your throat as he grunted against your skin.

You realized you couldn't even draw a steady breath, you were so overwhelmed by the feeling of being with him again.

His breath fanned your collarbone as he finally rested his forehead there and groaned your name. It was music on his lips.

The hand on your hip started guiding you to move, and you gently rocked your hips. God, had it ever felt this good before?

The feeling washed over you like honey, drenching your limbs and making your fingers tingle. Almost on their own, your hips picked up the pace, spreading the feeling everywhere in your body.

As you rode him faster, he pressed his face into your neck, letting the wetness from his crying earlier rub onto your skin. He was groaning at almost every thrust, incoherent mixtures of yes's and your name falling off his lips with every breath.

You were holding on for dear life, fingers fisted in his hair, when he grabbed under your thighs and stood up, slipping his cock out of you while you were still in his arms.

Anakin turned around and laid you down on your back as he busied himself throwing off his shirt and pants until he was bare in front of you. Within two more seconds, he was inside you again, this time thrusting into you from above.

He was holding himself up on his elbows, so his face was right above yours, eyes locked onto yours. You could see every reaction, every groan fall from his lips.

Usually, he was rough and made his hips smack yours, but, today, his thrusts were slow and languid, like he was trying to make it last as long as possible. You could live in this moment for the rest of your life. A particularly strong twitch of his cock made you whimper.

"Fuck, baby. You're so gorgeous like this," he breathed, pressing a kiss to your forehead tenderly. You locked your legs around him, holding him close, so that this wouldn't end. So that you could always stay here.

His breath hitched, and you knew he was getting close. You loved that you knew things like that about him, that only you knew that about him right now.

"Shit, fuck. Your pussy is so fucking good, like you were made for me," he groaned into your ear, speeding up until he was going faster than you thought he could. The intensity made you grasp at his back desperately, your nails catching on his skin. He hissed loudly. Anakin's cock twitched inside you, and you knew he was seconds away from his release. And you were even closer, that delicious tension building with every thrust.

His hand came between you to rub small circles on your clit, and then you were gone. Your mind went blank, and everything became just sensation. Warmth, all around you. Him, everywhere.

Somewhere far away, while you were still twitching around him, he groaned, low and loud and raw, as he came while sheathed deep in your pussy. Anakin laid his head in the crook of your neck while he recovered. His breath hitched as he took a shaky exhale, then pulled his cock out of you.

You didn't need to say any words, you both knew what you wanted. He pulled you into his arms like you were the most precious thing on the planet, then let his eyes slip closed. All the tension that had been building in your body was released, gone into the wind. All that was left was him, and the rise and fall of his chest as you lay against it.

"I missed you, too," you ventured after a few seconds of comfortable silence. He hummed, letting the hand trailing through your hair cup your jaw and pull you up for another kiss.

This one was tender, not about fucking, not about anything but his feelings for you. It was addicting, and, when it stopped, you almost pulled him in for another round. But it was midnight, and every muscle in your body was screaming.

Anakin said something about cleaning up and getting out of here, and you nodded, but you found you were having trouble with coherent thoughts at the moment. Anakin gently kissed your forehead and then rolled out of bed.

"'Kay, I'm gonna go look around for a bathroom, be back in a sec!" He called out, putting his clothes back on quickly, but not quickly enough that you didn't have time to check him out.

Even when he left the room, you were still smiling. You grabbed your phone, discarded somewhere near the bed, and sat back down. You wanted to text Ahsoka to thank her for bringing you to this party, for introducing you to Anakin, hell, for being born, when your homescreen reminded you of something.

54 Days, 18 hours, 27 seconds until Thesis Due Date

That pit opened in your stomach. You thought you had gotten rid of it, but there it was again. Everything went tight in your body, and suddenly all you could think was how could you have let yourself get this far behind? You had to get to work.

Something bumped your leg. It was Anakin's hand. You hadn't even heard him come in.

"Everything okay?" Anakin asked, with that gentle smile that hadn't really left him since you'd made up.

You looked at him, the man who you kind-of-sort-of-definitely had feelings for, and you shot him a half-assed smile as you locked your phone.

"Yeah," you said, your voice tight as you put it away. But, for the rest of the night, even when he walked you home and kissed you in front of the building--in public--it echoed in the back of your mind.

54 days.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added!):

@skywalkercinema @throughparisallthroughrome @anak1ns-wife @radiantvader @eloquenceinpurple @rosekillerdaughter @doblasftcisco @rhiannonhippiegirl @mistress-amidala @johnbassplayercutie @mortalheartache @xorilixx @sunnytotheend @olivia091108 @aniiuv @sotal3rsa @springnaiad @bettysgardenswift @ursogorgeous13 @avalovesjoe1 @anibeaar @anisluvrgirl @mcdonaldshelppage @usuck @sythethecarrot @lovrsm @ann4zw @gimmefood

[pinkyqily]

LJ AND HER SUPER COOL GIRLFRIEND [Lauren.James x reader]

Summary: Your girlfriend asked you to help her braid her hair and who are you to decline.

A/N: finally putting out a fic after months of not writing this is a fic that randomly came to me and I had to write it, I plan on updating this fic from time to time so stay tuned for that,if you have any requests for this feel free to let me know in my inbox and I'm also taking new requests if you have any send them my way.

ALSO THIS A REPOST FROM MY OLD ACCOUNT

Contains: Lauren james x blk reader, reader is black but feel free to use your imagination, why is the title this you may ask because this fic is like those romcom with the werid ass name that aren't that werid but ppl don't get it, plus this was how the fic idea came to me lj had a really cool gf so yeah, there's no tw just a lovey dovey fic 💘.

To say lauren was obsessed with you was an understatement because if she could worship you from dusk till dawn. She would, without hesitation people always seem to be surprised that someone like her could end up with a woman like you.

You find it stereotypical stupid just because you're both two women in a relationship it shouldn't matter what your pillars are cause of the world difference.

But in all honesty, you couldn't careless especially when you're with the woman who fulfills every single one of your desires and loves you down to earth.

One thing you loved about Lauren was her hair and how she embraced it. Even though it was rare, she would let anyone touch it unless she was getting it done that was all.

So today, when she had asked you to braid her hair before the match against arsenal, you couldn't pass on the moment.

You were scrolling on your phone while you waited for your girlfriend to come join you downstairs so you could start. Unknowingly to you didn't hear Lauren heading downstairs as you felt two pairs of hands grabbing you by your waist.

"Hello to you too james". You told her

"Hey, my love." She said has her arms where still wrapped around your waist.

"So what hairstyle are you thinking of doing?". You asked her.

I was thinking about doing sum cornrows my love".she said while laying her head on your lap.

"Umm good choice".you told her before getting started on her hair.

In between doing Lauren hair you had to stop her from trying to touch you if not you wouldn't be able to finish doing it but knowing lauren you knew she wouldn't give up without a fight.

So that's how you ended on the floor on top of her instead of finishing the rest.

"Lauren, let go of me we can do this later I got have to finish braiding your hair". You tried telling her which was no use cause the grip she had on your waist was strong.

"How about you give me a kiss then we can continue."

"But I already did". You said while rolling your eyes at her.

"Lips and cheeks are not the same thing babe".all of a sudden, you felt a light smack on your thighs.

"Lauren." You yelled out her name after

"I love listening to the sound of my name coming out your mouth."she told as her thumb brushed your lips.

After your Makeout session with Lauren, you we're finally able to finish doing the rest of her hair without any disturbances.

"Baby I'm done doing your hair." You called out only to realize she had fallen asleep on your lap, not being able to do anything about it you grabbed the blanket that was already on the couch and layed it around the both of you.

[starkeyvhs]

Him just anywhere near you was enough to drive you a little over the edge and it seemed to get worse when you had a bit too much liquid courage in your system. 

oof okay the dynamic!!!!

He was unrealistically beautiful, carved gently.

OH WHY IS THIS LINE SO PERFECT

“I know, ‘almost done.” He gently spoke up as he concentrated on patching up a bandage around your hand.

this gives so many 'only soft to you and no one else' vibes and I'm so here for it

“And I couldn’t stand it alright. I just…no one talks shit about you. No one except me. I mean, the fucking audacity to even say those…those things when they’re probably even worse!”

OH MY GOD OH YES

One corner of your lip turned up as you smirked lightly, “I don’t regret it. I’d do it again in fact.”

I love this reader so much

“You’re fucking insane, you know that right?”

“Over you? Fuck yeah.”

FUCKING SCREAMING

the reader and rafe dynamic was so so good!!!! I loved the fic so so much, especially reader ugh it was so amazing!!! I've read like a billion fics where rafe beats someone up but reader beating someone up, rafe patching them up, and then the confessions???? AND SUCH INSANE CONFESSIONS AT THAT???? ugh sign me up! and the writing was just absolutely magnificent AHHH 💓💓💓

patch you right up — a r.c drabble.

★ pairing: rafe cameron x frenemy!reader, enemies to ?? ★ genre: hurt/comfort, unresolved feelings. ★ warnings: cussing, mentions of being drunk, violence, mentions of wounds and treating them. ★ a/n : urm very...random, silly, might not make sense but it was rotting in my mind, lmk what you think <3 ★ w.c : 1.1k

“This was very fucking stupid of me.”

Hissing in pain as the hydrogen peroxide made contact with your torn knuckles on your hand, you held your bruised jaw with the free hand and looked away from the blood glistening because of the light above.

“Oh you don’t say?” His voice was mocking, nothing new but it held an underlying annoyance you could somehow detect. 

Sighing, you pulled your hand abruptly, which earned you a sharp turn of his head in your direction and his dark blue eyes glaring at you, “What are you doing?”

“You don’t have to do this-”

“Shut up.”

“No I mean it, Rafe. It’s my fault, ‘ll patch it up myself.”

It did not help how horrible your head seemed to ache as you shut your eyes briefly, everything felt overwhelming, especially with him being this close to you. Him just anywhere near you was enough to drive you a little over the edge and it seemed to get worse when you had a bit too much liquid courage in your system. 

“Look at me.” You hated how easily you complied as you opened your eyes to find him staring at you, only this time, they were much softer.

That wasn’t hard to do, considering the position you were in. On his impossibly large bathroom counter as he stood between your legs, really you didn’t have much to look at. 

“It’s not your fault, alright?” You spited it when people would always give you fake sentences for the sake of being ‘kind’, it was all sugar coated shit to you. But somehow when Rafe Cameron said that to you, your heart felt like it would combust then and there.

It didn’t help how the daziness was elevated as you scanned his features up close. He was unrealistically beautiful, carved gently.

Because he was who he was, you knew he meant what he said. For all the time you knew him, he was one to be honest. About how he felt, about what he felt and for who he felt. Though, when you questioned yourself what he might feel for you now, you’d say you don’t know.

Nodding along to his words, you leaned to your left, luckily having a wall to support you and not embarrassingly falling, you’d done enough that night. 

Without more words, he gently grabbed your hand and finished cleaning up the burst skin and spilled blood. You once again shut your eyes, this time tightly as you clenched your jaw when he applied ointment.

“ ‘hurts.” The treating part made you wince even more than when you were getting the injury. Probably how most of the adrenaline wore out by now.

“I know, ‘almost done.” He gently spoke up as he concentrated on patching up a bandage around your hand.

A quiet silence filled the space for a moment, and even though you did feel out of it, you could sense he had something to say.

“Why-why’d you do it?” He said as he finished with your hand, instructing you to sit up straight. His hand on your jaw did make you more alert even though he was very…gently doing it. It was colder than you expected, and you were sure he could feel how warm you were getting when he was slowly caressing it with a delicate touch.

“That’s outta bruise badly.” His eyes held remorse and his frown deepened. You didn’t even realize your own gaze lingered on his lips.

Gulping, your eyes darted away from his face. Maybe it was the guilt or the buzz, but you murmured out,

“...I- it was well…It was stupid but I- couldn’t control myself. I got mad.”

His hand paused and he raised an eyebrow in curiosity. This was new. 

“They- they were saying stupid shit. I knew they were doing it to rile me and well they did that just right. It was fine when it was about me, I ignored it but I couldn’t stand the rest.”

Something in his chest flared as his confusion was slowly turning into realization but he continued letting you speak,

“They began talking shit about…about you.” You recalled the tone they used, the words they called him and you could feel the familiar annoyance and anger build up as they replayed in your mind.

“And I couldn’t stand it alright. I just…no one talks shit about you. No one except me. I mean, the fucking audacity to even say those…those things when they’re probably even worse!”

He blinked a few times to make sure he heard you right. You’d looked to the side, scowling as you clicked your tongue.

“Next thing I knew, I’d just hit someone and then the same happened to me. I guess maybe I deserved one but you should see the other idiot’s face.” You finally looked back into his eyes, a slight smile on your face when you recalled hearing the other dude’s nose definitely crunching and you were sure it would never be the same. You’d made it very sure.

He did not know what to feel. Amusement? Shock? Disbelief? But over them all, his heart fluttered wildly as his eyes scanned your face. The same one that had been haunting his mind since the first time he’d seen you, the first time he’d ever have someone make him more mad than anything yet made him want you closer. You were simply driving him insane since he’d met you. 

He just never realized, until now, that maybe he was never the only one who felt the same.

Tilting your head, you licked your lower lip, his gaze moving there for a brief moment, you said, “But you know what?”

One corner of your lip turned up as you smirked lightly, “I don’t regret it. I’d do it again in fact.”

His tongue felt heavy as the words clogged up in his throat, he gulped down the knot formed as he clenched his hand that was beside you, over the counter edge. He stared intently into your eyes, you could feel your heart beating faster as you leaned closer. 

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours as you fluttered your eyes shut, hand going over his neck and pulling him impossibly closer. His hands moved to your hips, pressing into them as if he was afraid you’d disappear and it was all a dream.

It was messy as you’d expect from two people whose own feelings were a mess, your non-injured hand ran over his hair and he groaned into the kiss. You might as well have just combusted then and there. 

Feeling the need to breathe, you gently pulled away, resting your forehead on his as his hand came up to your face, caressing it gently.

“You’re fucking insane, you know that right?” He breathed out as he tried to steady his own breathing and rapidly beating heart.

“Over you? Fuck yeah.”

extra a/n : ...yeah I'm sorry if the uhm kissing part sucked...it's been a very whole while.

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

writingmeraki Ⓒ 2024

feedback is always appreciated 💌 ! links : main navi ! | misc masterlist | main masterlist | info !

[narcissisticmf]

get up | bucky barnes x fem!reader

description: y/n is not a morning person and bucky tries everything in his power to ease her into the start of the day.

trigger warnings: fluff, some seductive behavior, domestic!bucky, etc. read at your own risk.

word count: <1k

The sun slipped its way through the closed curtains, shining brightly into the room. Your body was entangled within the sheets and thick blankets among your queen sized bed. You grumbled softly as the morning sun hit your eyes, causing you to slowly shield your face behind the thick blanket, no desire to get up yet.

You felt Bucky stir beside you, your back facing him. He must've been waking up. You felt his right arm slip protectively around your stomach, making you to groan softly.

You loved Bucky's affection, but receiving it early in the morning was something you were trying to get yourself used to. You hated physical affection in the morning and, of course, Bucky knew this but that didn't stop him.

"Mornin', sweetheart," Bucky mumbled into your ear with resonance. You gently moaned, clearly not ready to get up yet.

"You want some tea?" he asked, nibbling gently on your earlobe. You stayed quiet, but turned over to face him. You were so tired, and something unusual made you nestle closer to hin that morning. Your face disappeared into his chest and beneath the covers as his arms engulfed you tightly.

"Look at you.." Bucky whispered with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You released a soft huff and breathed in his scent. "What's got you so soft this morning, hm?"

"Shh," you whispered with a soft whine, no desire to speak yet.

To this, Bucky laughed. He pressed a warm kiss to your temple.

After a few moments of stillness that enveloped the room, Bucky dipped his chin down and pressed a lingering kiss to the apple of your cheek. "Cmon, sweetheart," he whispered as softly as possible. "Time to get up."

"Nooo," you dragged out softly.

"Yesss," he mimicked your tone with a smile.

"Bucky," you huffed and lifted your chin to look up at him. Your hair was matted against your forehead, your eyes glassed over the iridescent glimmer of them, and your lips were dry, slightly chapped.

"Y/N," Bucky smiled, sat up while leaning on his elbow, and cupped your face with his hands. You shivered at the cold touch of his metal arm, but relished in the light thrill.

"There's my girl," he grinned and leaned down to press a kiss to your nose. "Good morning."

"Morning," you couldn't fight your smile as Bucky leaned down to pepper kisses across your jawline and neck. You rested your head against the pillows and fluttered your eyes closed, admiring the feel of his warm lips against your cold skin.

He halted at your collarbone and seemed to question with his eyes if he should keep going. When you didn't protest, he sucked the skin over your bone.

Your body shuttered, leaving gooseflesh across your exposed arms.

"I felt that," Bucky smirked.

"Shut up," you laughed and nudged him off you.

He didn't fight you and laughed, shuffling off the bed. He turned to look down at you, still beneath the covers.

"How'd I get so lucky, hm?" Bucky crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at you with such an intense gaze, you felt your face go hot.

"Bucky," you whined softly and covered your face with the blankets.

"No, no, please.. don't cover that beautiful face," Bucky implored pathetically, leaning against the mattress to tug the sheets away.

You giggled when he clearly won the tug-o-war battle.

"There she is," Bucky grinned. "Come on, I'll make us breakfast."

This time, you happily obliged.

.

a/n: hi cuties!! i know ive been gone for a hot minute, i've just been swamped with my classes. i'm taking 4 lit classes this semester 🙄 someone tell me why i thought that was a good idea. ANYWAY ,, i hope yall liked this one! i've been seeing sm bucky content bc of thunderbults (can't wait to see that btw) so i thought to write a cute little fic this morning with him. and seeing sebastian talk shit on donald trump to the press is so sexy to me 🤭 okok i'll stop fangirling!! love yall! have a nice thanksgiving to my u.s. friends who celebrate! — angelina.

[meracyn]

kwon as your boyfriend <3

a/n: whoops i broke my rule of only posting once a day lmao but idc this man is too fine to even regret this. if im gna write for ck it’ll probs be for only kwon i never really paid attention to the others ngl 😭🙏 maybe miguel (UPDATE I MEANT AXEL) too but idk ive seen fics n i think id make him ooc so bear w me lmao

we’re continuing with the overprotective partners squad™, starring bitches and bros and nonbinary hoes (ifykwim ILY) who just. are so down bad for their partners they’d do anything to keep them safe

this guy is one of the top ranked members 💯

although it is true, kwon is definitely protective over you– it depends however, as in, depending on how capable you are to defend yourself. this doesn’t only mean physically, verbally too.

if you are into karate and have the skills to pay the bills (another reference lmao), kwon won’t be as protective, as he himself acknowledges your strength and is very proud to let others know you are his partner.

if it’s the other way and you don’t do karate, it just increases his protectiveness– he won’t judge you for it or anything, but will offer to teach you some tricks in case of an “emergency” (basically him going to a match and won’t be there with you) so you can defend yourself, though you’d probably have a ‘guard’ with you lmao (yoon 💀)

very touchy, but more in private, and just an arm around your shoulders, back or waist in public. kwon would most likely give you his jacket too, as a sign for anyone not to mess with you

is so gentle with you behind closed doors; like full on holding your hand and pressing a soft kiss, holding your cheek and staring lovingly into your eyes, having you in his arms every time you kiss, he’s a whole different person when it comes to his partner, and obviously has a soft spot for you

teases a lot lmao. say, for example, you get jealous over someone walking over to him and ask for his number, kwon would quickly notice and be so smug with it– attempts to rile you up and see how long you can remain calm before before doing anything

won’t stop mentioning it too 💀 “aw, remember when you got jealous~? how cute.” will make it up to you though, by making out ‘til you aren’t mad anymore doing anything you want

lots of cuddling, kwon feels reassured and relaxed if you’re laying beside him– either having your head on his chest or on top of him (IN A NON DIRTY WAY STOP 💀), anything that includes you being close together = happy kwon

will defend your honor as many times necessary, this guy does not play when it comes to anyone badmouthing you in front of him, he won’t hesitate to kick their ass (literally)

always strives to cause a good impression to you. if you’re present during any of the tournaments he’s attending and such, kwon will be showing off lmao, that smirk on his face when he wins and sends a look your way

the longer you date, the more he’s sure you two will marry, in fact he’ll even bet his own life about it– kwon’s just that sure, he knows you won’t leave him, you’re stuck to him like glue and can’t run away 😭

“you can run but can’t hide from me” – kwon

“wanna bet about it” – you

uhhh what did you do lmao RUN

this man is too fine ugh how does he do it

[mononijikayu]

forg_tful — fushiguro megumi.

“I think you must be the kindest grim reaper to ever exist.” you say suddenly, the words spilling out before you can stop them.  Your voice is soft, worn out from the day, but it carries the weight of sincerity. Megumi raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.  “Do you know any other grim reapers?” he asks, his tone laced with dry humor. You chuckle, a sound that feels lighter than it has in weeks. “No, not at all.” you admit, smiling despite yourself. “But I don’t need to. You’ve set the bar pretty high, do you know that?”

GENRE: alternate universe - grim reaper au;

WARNING/S: mythical beings and creatures, aged up megumi, heavy angst, romance, conflicted feelings, hurt/comfort, unhappy life, depression, illness, hurt, character death, mourning, loneliness, pain, humor, guilt, pining, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, grief, depiction of character death, depiction of illness, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of panic attack, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of illness, mention of loneliness, grim reaper! megumi, long suffering dying! reader;

WORD COUNT: 12k words

NOTE: when i was dabbling about what to post, i did a wheel of names and megumi won so here is another megumi fic. i was talking with @midnight-138 the other day and we got in this conversation about goblin, the kdrama. and there were grim reapers there. so i ended up writing about that here. i hope you enjoy it as much as i did!!! anyway, i love you all <3

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THERE IS A WONDER ABOUT HUMAN DESTINY. You heard a story about it then, at the orphanage. One of your carers would tell you about it often. How humans were born into this destiny in this new life after their old one.

And this life is determined by how good or bad that past life was. And that each and everyone must live a good enough life in each cycle, in order to have a good life in the next.

When you were a child, understanding this concept felt like a challenge. How could one’s destiny ever be decided just like that, by things you don’t even remember? Who gets to decide whether or not we are good?

Is good and bad easy to tell? You would ask the older kids at the orphanage this, and sometimes you caretakers. But they never seem to understand why you could not accept it as it is. 

After all, you were a child. And a child would always find that ridiculous, you think. You were a child. You haven’t done anything wrong. Not to anyone. Not about anything.

You doubt you could have done something in your past life that should warrant any punishment. You were someone people knew to be a good kid, you always have been. People looked at you warmly, ever so kindly. 

But now you can only say that you know better. You have grown up. You had seen the truth. And it was not good, it was ugly and rotten. It was a tragedy. And you hated it. You hated everything about it.

Because your past life, your past self — they might have been a terrible person. They must have been the worst of the worst. Because, if you weren’t, then what justifies that sad suffering? That painful existence you had lived up until now.

You sighed heavily, taking in the whiff of bitter antiseptic, that artificial fragrance. You like to think you’ve been cursed to live a sad life. And today was just another proof of it.

Every thought of it just lingers like a familiar shadow, whispering in the quiet moments when you’re too tired to fight back. It’s easier to believe in curses than coincidences, easier to pin your pain on something cosmic than accept a world so indifferent.

You were an orphan, after all. Not in the storybook sense where miracles come to those who wait, but in the raw, unvarnished truth of it. Alone from the start, without a name to cry out to when the nights felt endless.

There was no mother to call for warm hugs, there was no father to give you reassurances. Just that cold metal bunk bed, which creaks at night as you twist and turn and the dark moonless nights.

You were passed from one place to another, faceless in a system that churned endlessly, always one more lost child than it could handle. You kept being told that it wasn’t that because you were unlovable, that’s what they always said.

But it was just that they found out what love looks like when they look at someone else, at another child that they think fits in their family. That was just how they felt they said, that was just their truth. And it shouldn't be personal. 

You learned early on that love wasn’t guaranteed, that kindness wasn’t free, and that your worth was measured by how little trouble you caused. And just like that you grew up in that orphanage, being your own parent, being your own mother and father, your own sibling. Your own family.

When the kids at school found out, they immediately latched onto it. The teasing started small, barbs disguised as jokes, but it grew sharper, crueler. Just as the years dragged on, they had grown to be even crueler, even more vicious about being someone like you. 

Even as you started to have your own life and slowly became an adult, you found that people would never think to give you anything. You had expectations at one point that people would be more understanding. That they would give you more grace about it. 

But you would find yourself broken up over by your significant other because their mother didn’t like that you had no one in your family. Well, their mother never liked you from the beginning.

They thought you were difficult and had no manners, all because you never had a family, no parents to teach you all the things that would make a good person.

You would find yourself having friends and then getting into fights with them when you couldn’t show up for them at times, because you had to work multiple jobs to get through college.

Or how you couldn’t hang out with them because you had to take another shift for extra cash for your rent. They would say, what would be the need of you if you can’t be there?

Over time, you found yourself isolated from the world. No matter what you did, you found yourself alone. You found yourself unable to please people, unable to keep people. Unable to attain happiness or peace in this life. And over time too, you stopped expecting anyone to step in. You stopped expecting anything at all.

You’ve had a rough life—that’s what they’d call it, isn’t it? A neat little phrase to gloss over the thorny, jagged edges of this existence. It was as if that phrase could capture all of the nights spent crying into your pillow, the gnawing hunger for connection, for someone; the sense that the world moved on without ever noticing you.

And somehow, your misery can only continue.

It started with little things, barely noticeable at first—a name you couldn’t recall, a face that seemed familiar but unplaceable. Then it got worse and worse as time went by. Days lost to a haze of things you couldn’t explain, moments slipping through your fingers like water flowing downstream. 

You didn’t wanna worry about it that much in the beginning. Maybe you’ve been working too hard. You’ve taken so much work these past few weeks. And maybe you had forgotten to eat anything.

You had a sensitive stomach, after all. Maybe that’s what has been causing the fatigue and the headache. Maybe the headaches are the reason you’ve been forgetting a lot of things. Yeah, that’s what it could be.

Yet, it just never went away. Even with the lifestyle changes, even when you would cut back on work to take care of yourself and rest. Nothing had changed. In fact, the pain had only gotten worse.

And more and more, you would find yourself forgetting things more and more. At one point, you had cried so much after forgetting which street you lived on after work. 

You had felt your head spinning, your vision went on a blur and that night lamp began to burn against your eyes. Your breath labored over and over, and you had tried to get it controlled — but you couldn’t. Tears fell even more as you leaned against the lamp post. You felt like you were going to collapse.That you were going to throw up on the floor. 

It took some time for yourself to regain some control, you knew that much. You just stayed there, letting the tears fall. You still didn’t remember where you had lived. You were forgetting it all. And that frustrated you to no end. You knew then that this can’t continue happening. That this cannot continue on. 

That’s why you came here in this godforsaken place known as the hospital. You’ve always hated hospitals. It was such a terrible place. Even as a child, getting your check–ups with the other orphans terrified you. Nothing about this place spells any good. You were already with bad luck, with such a terrible destiny in this life and you didn’t want it to continue.

But you cannot control destiny, not ever.

You could only control yourself. 

And even that, you cannot have control.

Not anymore, not ever again.

The doctors confirmed it: a rare, terminal illness. Brain cancer, in its final stages. Not only was it going to kill you, it was going to take everything that made you along with it.

Your memories, no matter how horrible, your identity, no matter how empty, your self, no matter how broken. All of who you are — you'd fade away in pieces, becoming a hollow shell long before your body gave out.

You thought the universe had no more ways to hurt you. 

But you knew you were wrong, from the very beginning.

And then, on a night when the weight of it all felt unbearable, you saw him.

He wasn’t what you expected. No black cloak, no skeletal frame, no cold, lifeless eyes. The grim reaper was... human. Or at least, he looked that way. His dark colored hair fell in soft, dark strands over his forehead, his clothes unassuming—a rather plain and boring suit, even.

But there was something in his presence, a quiet intensity, that made your heart skip. His blue-green eyes, sharp and unreadable, pinned you in place, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

“Who are you?” you asked, though deep down you already knew.

He studied you in silence for a moment, as though deciding whether you were worth an answer. Your eyes narrowed at him, as though trying to make sure that this isn’t just your brain making a mess of you. But he wasn’t. He was very much real. He was very much here. Finally, he spoke.

“Megumi.” he said. His voice was calm, steady, but there was something beneath it—something you couldn’t quite place. You hadn’t expected that from a grim reaper. You had expected something more rough. Something more….grim.

“Is that all?” you pressed, desperation clawing at your throat. You wanted—no, needed—to know more. Why him? Why now? Why couldn’t you just be left alone?

“That’s all you need to know about me.” he said simply.

His words were a wall you couldn’t scale. No matter how hard you tried, you knew there would be no answers, no explanations, no mercy. At least not until you were dead. You sighed, leaning against the bench.

This was it. The final countdown was coming soon. There was no escape. Yet, as the silence stretched between you, a strange feeling took root in your chest. Not comfort, not exactly. But something close. It was at least something. And for once, you weren’t alone.

You didn’t know what this grim reaper, this Megumi, was meant to be to you. What was he? Was he a guide, a witness, a judge? You didn’t know. And perhaps it was easier not to ask questions, to not know. 

But as you continued to sit there, staring at the one who would carry you to your end, a thought crossed your mind. At least he wasn’t judging you. At least he was just there, waiting. He was calm as can be, quiet and without any grievances towards you. 

Perhaps, maybe — at least he wasn’t as cruel as life has been. You began to think to yourself as you closed your eyes about one thing. Maybe if he was here, then maybe the end wouldn’t be so lonely after all. Maybe there will finally be some sense of peace at the end. 

You opened your eyes, your lips seeping into a small smile. “I look forward to meeting my end with you.”

══════════════════

AS THE TIME GOES BY, HE WAS WITH YOU IN EVERYTHING. No one else around you could feel or see him the way you do. And he couldn’t go anywhere else. He was bound to you, until he could take your soul away and bring it with him. So, Megumi continued to watch over you as you continued to live your life, or at least what remains of it.

At first, his presence unnerves you. You weren’t used to this, being watched so closely almost everyday and every hour — especially with what remained of your miserable life. But slowly you found yourself getting used to him being around. And at the very least, he still gave you space when you did things that required privacy.

Otherwise, he’s always there, quiet and still, like a shadow you can’t shake. And as the days stretch into weeks, you begin to realize that he isn’t all bad. He does talk, sometimes. At least when he thinks you do something worth giving a response about.

He was truly quite reserved and serious half the time, yes, and almost cold in the way he speaks and carries himself, but there’s something beneath it. It wasn’t easy to notice at first, because it was ever so subtle. It was as if he never wanted anyone to notice that there was  something soft within that hard exterior of his.

Megumi didn’t seem to fit his job description—not at all. He was patient in a way you didn’t expect from a reaper. From what you’d gathered from folklore and stories about grim reapers, you imagined something far more ominous.

Shadows and sickles, maybe even whispers of death. But Megumi? He had a quiet presence that felt nothing like the foreboding figures you’d pictured.

When your mind betrays you, when a memory slips through your fingers like grains of sand, Megumi is there. He doesn’t judge the gaps, doesn’t rush you to remember. Instead, he catches the loose ends with an ease that seems effortless. 

Sometimes, it feels as though he’s more of a guide than a harbinger, steering you gently through the storm of forgetfulness. His voice is steady, grounding. His gaze is understanding, never invasive.

There’s a calmness to him, a patience that wraps around you like a soft cocoon. It’s disarming. You wonder how someone charged with ferrying souls could be so tender. Yet, when you look at him, you see no malice, no hint of the cold indifference you expected. Just the faintest trace of weariness in his eyes, as if he’s carried too many burdens that aren’t his own.

Sometimes, you forget who he is. And in those moments, Megumi doesn’t correct you. Instead, he lets you speak, lets you ramble, and when the memory comes back, when you remember why he’s here—he doesn’t revel in the grief.

He simply nods, a quiet acknowledgment that this, too, is part of the process. He’s not here to rush the inevitable; he’s here to make sure you don’t face it alone.

“Your nurse’s name is Alice, by the way.” Megumi says again when you struggle to introduce yourself. 

You could feel your mouth fumbling over syllables that don’t quite fit together. Your cheeks feel red at the thought, now remembering as she smiled at your direction. You waved at her. His voice is calm, steady, like he has all the time in the world to wait for you to find your footing. You blink at him, your thoughts swirling too fast to make sense of.

 “Huh?” you finally ask, the confusion thick in your tone. 

“She takes care of you in the mornings. Alice always makes sure to bring your meds with water, no ice.” he says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to know. “You told her once that cold water hurts your teeth, so she makes sure to bring you water without ice.

You glance down at your hands, unsure of what to say. His eyes felt warm against your own as you nodded slowly at him, trusting his words. Those details feel foreign to you, like a story you heard about someone else. But his words fit, even if you can’t remember saying them. They were warm, they felt truthful.

“Oh.” you mumble with a small smile. “Thanks.”

He looks away from you. “No problem.”

Later, in the cafeteria, you sit in front of a tray of food that feels unfamiliar. Your appetite is as absent as the clarity of your thoughts. You stare at the carton of apple juice, its horrifically bright label somehow irritating, though you can’t pinpoint why at all.

“You liked orange juice better than apple.” Megumi says, breaking the silence. He gestures toward the carton with a small nod. “That one’s your favorite. Not too sweet, not too sour.”

The simplicity of the statement hits you like a lifeline, tethering you to something concrete. You pick up the carton, turning it in your hands before setting it back down. You smiled at him again, but this time almost a mix of relief and embarrassment. You were relying on your grim reaper to remind you of everything, now more than ever.

“Thank you.” you say again, a little louder this time, just enough for him to hear.

The two of you sit in silence for a while before you decide to pull out the small notebook you’ve been keeping. Your doctor suggested it as your brain got even sicker. You needed to remember something and so this notebook, it was your place to track your thoughts before they disappear entirely. 

You scribble furiously, trying to make sense of the jumble in your head. You’re working on a sentence about feeling forgetful, but the words tangle together, your handwriting messy and uneven. You pause, staring at it. Something feels wrong. Something feels off. Your face contorts, your eyes narrow at the page.

“You missed an E.” Megumi says softly, leaning over to glance at the page. 

He doesn’t reach for the notebook, doesn’t try to take it from you. Instead, he taps the spot with his finger, just enough to draw your attention. Your eyes blinked. Sure enough, forgetful is written as forgtful. You bite your lip, heat rising to your cheeks as frustration bubbles up. 

“I—I know that, you know?” you say defensively, though the truth is you hadn’t noticed until he pointed it out.

He doesn’t laugh or tease you. “It happens, don’t worry.” he says simply, his tone free of judgment. “You caught it now. That’s what matters.”

You glance at him, expecting pity, but his stoic expression is as steady as ever, like this moment isn’t something to dwell on. You pierce your lips in a tight line. You carefully picked up your pen again, correcting the error with a shaky hand. 

“Thanks for telling me.” you mutter, embarrassed but grateful.

“You were talking about your favorite teacher, earlier.” he reminds you a little while later, after your thoughts derail mid-sentence. 

You’d been telling him about a memory. It was a rare one, where everything about it was good. It was such a warm, fuzzy one that had felt so clear in your mind just moments ago—but now it’s slipping away, leaving you grasping at straws.

You look at him, feeling lost. “I... was?”

“You were.” he confirms with a small nod, his tone encouraging. “You said they were the first people to notice how much you liked writing. You were just getting to the part about their funny laugh.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right!” you whisper, the thread of the memory slowly weaving its way back into focus. “Right. Mr. Greene. He laughed like a seagull.”

Megumi doesn’t laugh at the description, but his lips twitch in what might be the ghost of a smile. That was a rare thing, you knew that. But you like to think that maybe, just maybe, if he tried — he would look even better when he smiled. He already has a handsome face, you knew that. But maybe, his smile, it would make it even better.

“That’s it.” he says, his voice carrying a quiet kind of approval.

It’s small, these moments of clarity he gives you, but they feel monumental in a life that’s slowly crumbling. For a moment, you feel like you’ve reclaimed a small piece of yourself, and you can’t help but glance at him, wondering how someone like him, a reaper, of all things can make you feel more alive than you have in a long time.

You can’t help but admit it but he was your first true friend.

He was your longest companion to boot, with that.

And perhaps, he will be the only constant you’ll ever have.

But maybe he already knew that and he just doesn’t tell you.

He accompanies you often, especially in the long, quiet hours spent tethered to hospital machines. The hum of monitors and the rhythmic drip of IVs become a backdrop to his steady, unobtrusive presence. At first, you think he’s only there to observe, to do whatever grim reapers are supposed to do as your life ticks away. 

But the longer he stays, the more you realize he’s keeping you company at every appointment. Keeping you from being so alone. Even if it was his job, he could wait elsewhere. But he sits beside you, in an empty chair no one dares sit at. 

And he stays, throughout each and every appointment. Appointments which barely keep you alive. It was only a matter of time before he had to deliver your soul to wherever it had to be.

You started to wonder if he’ll think about this time with you too. If he will find this moment to be something that will cross his mind once this job, you, were done and gone. 

It’s strange, this relationship you’ve fallen into. He doesn’t talk much unless prompted, not unless you forgot something or need anything. But you like to think that you could start to rely on his silence. Especially when doctors and nurses give you all those complicated jargons that you didn’t even need.

It fills the void in a way words can’t. When you’re too tired to make conversation with visitors, when there are visitors, probably motivated by guilt or necessity, your grim reaper Megumi is there. Unfailingly, he would be sitting by your bedside, his gaze steady, his presence grounding. As though he wants to give you strength to deal with it all. 

But of course, as  you already know, no one else can see him. Just you. At first, you tried explaining him to the nurses, the doctors,  or when you felt like talking about something you knew he would listen to — but the looks they gave you were enough to stop. They chalked it up to the illness, the stress, or the medications. 

But Megumi is real. You know he’s real. The way he moves, the way he seems to sense your thoughts before you speak them, the way he exists on the edges of your life without ever intruding.

The way a glint in his eyes would appear warmer than before. He was here. He was there with you. You weren’t going crazy. And he knew that too. He was the only one that knew that.

One day, in the suffocating stillness of the hospital ward, you finally ask him the question that’s been gnawing at the edges of your mind. The pale light filtering through the blinds casts long shadows on the sterile white walls.

And the quiet hum of distant monitors feels unbearably loud. You shift uncomfortably in your bed, clutching the thin blanket as if it could anchor you to something solid.

“Why are you here?” The words escape your lips before you can stop them. Your voice is quiet, hesitant, but the question feels monumental, breaking the fragile peace between you.

Megumi doesn’t look surprised. He’s seated in the chair by your bed, one leg crossed over the other, his posture as calm as always. His gaze lifts from the book he’s been reading, something he always seems to have in his hands.

Though you’ve never seen him get past the halfway mark. He seems to be carrying it as though it was a prayer book he was forced to hold at a sermon at church.

“To watch you.” he says simply, his tone neutral. There’s no elaboration, no attempt to soften the starkness of his answer. As though it was almost like his words were that of fact. You furrow your brow, confused.

“I know that….But why? Why do you keep on watching me this closely?” you press, the weight of his presence suddenly more tangible. He isn’t like the nurses or the doctors who flit in and out of the room. He doesn’t belong here—not in the way they do.

“Are you uncomfortable about it?” 

You blinked at him, your mouth agape for a moment. “N–no.”

“Okay, then. I’ll continue on doing what I want.”

You didn’t speak for a moment. You like to think that it was all you were going to get from him. So you just sighed, leaning against your hospital bed and closing your eyes. This was the most he’d ever talk to you, and perhaps the longest. That could be a win, right?

“For you.” He spoke again, as though he couldn’t handle the silence between you. 

“For me?” you echo, your voice almost a whisper. The words feel foreign, as though they belong to someone else. “What does that mean?”

He tilts his head slightly, considering your question. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—an emotion you can’t name. Not pity, not detachment, but something softer. “Does my reason matter?”

“You have me curious now.” You whisper to him, letting out a small laugh. “What was your reason?” you ask him again.

Though deep down, you think you already know. The thought lodges itself in your chest, sharp and unwelcome. Megumi doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped loosely together. His gaze holds yours for some time, steady and unwavering. 

“I made a promise I’d like to keep.” he says finally, the words carrying a gravity that makes your breath hitch.

“What promise?”

His eyes narrowed at you, almost as though it was full of hurt. “You don’t want to know.”

The suffocating stillness of the room presses down on you, but somehow, his presence feels like a small crack of light breaking through the weight of it all. You want to ask more—how he knows, why he cares, but the words catch in your throat, tangled in the storm of your thoughts.

It’s such a brief answer, yet it lingers with you long after the words fade. There’s no pity in his voice, no judgment, just a quiet truth that settles like a blanket over your weary mind. And in some inexplicable way, that’s enough.

So, instead you nod, a small, almost imperceptible gesture. It’s not acceptance, not yet, but maybe it’s the beginning of it. And Megumi, patient as ever, doesn’t push for more. He simply stays, his quiet presence a reminder that, whatever happens, you won’t face it alone.

Over time, Megumi’s presence becomes less foreboding and more… comforting. If someone told you a grim reaper could be anything close to a friend, you would’ve laughed. But now? You’re not so sure.

He still doesn’t talk much, but the moments he does are starting to feel less like obligations and more like. Well, like he cares. His dry humor catches you off guard sometimes, a quiet chuckle slipping from his lips when you grumble about hospital food or tell him a ridiculous story from your childhood that you’re shocked you even remember.

“They let you keep a pet fish in third grade?” he asks one day, his eyebrow quirking ever so slightly.

“Let me? No, I smuggled it back to the orphanage.” you reply, puffing your chest out like it’s something to be proud of. “Named him Mr. Bubbles. He lived in a mason jar by our shared windowsill until one of the staff found him.”

Megumi gives you a sidelong glance, and for a second, you think he’s about to scold you. But instead, his lips quirk into the tiniest smile. “Mr. Bubbles, huh.” he repeats, almost to himself, and the sound of it in his voice makes your chest feel light.

He’s always a comfort in the painful days of longevity treatments. You were getting even worse, not even the precious medication was working. Megumi was the one to urge you to continue, even if they were never going to do anything for you.

After all, he was here for a reason. Nothing was going to help. And yet, he still insists that having more time is better than having little.

This time, you like to think you could agree with him. With more time, you could continue to have Megumi by your side. You could continue to have conversations with him.

You could continue to see his small ghostly smiles and find him sitting there beside you, looking through pages of that book he never reads. You could have more time living, experiencing some good in your life – a good that was waiting on death’s door. 

Sitting in the chair beside you, his legs crossed casually, as though he’s simply there for the ambiance and not because you’re hooked up to an IV that feels like it’s siphoning the life out of you. Sometimes, you fall asleep mid-session, and when you wake up, you find him sitting exactly as he was, as if not a single moment has passed for him.

“I wasn’t sleeping at all.” you insist groggily one day, blinking the drowsiness away. “How could you even know I was sleeping at all? I know, it’s my body!”

“You were drooling.” he counters flatly, gesturing toward your chin. “Look, it’s still there in the corner of your lips.”

You hurriedly swipe at your face, heat rushing to your cheeks. “I was not!”

His expression doesn’t change, but you swear there’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. He could be a trickster when he wants to be. He could be silly from time to time. And funny enough with that dry humor that you could cry tears as you laugh so hard at what he says.

Despite his initial stoicism, Megumi starts picking up on your quirks, learning the things that make you smile. And most days now, especially now with these horrible and miserable treatments, you looked forward to them. 

Like the time he noticed you doodling on the edge of your treatment log and, the next day, casually handed you a pack of gel pens. Your face conforms to a confused daze as you look at him and then at the gel pens in your hand. There were so many that you don’t even think you could count them.

“How the hell did you get this, Megumi?” You asked him, your eyes narrowing at him. “Why are there so many?”

“They were free.” he said, refusing to meet your eyes as you stared at the colorful bundle in awe.

“From where?” you asked, skeptical at his response to you.

“Places.” He still wasn’t looking at you.

“Megumi.” you drawled, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Do you want the pens or not?” he huffed, crossing his arms in a way that made him look surprisingly boyish. “They’re really good too. I tried them downstairs. And they’re free. What? Is the security going to look at your bag when you leave? This isn’t a mall, you know.”

You looked at him for a moment, dumbfounded at his sudden ridiculous tirade. Then slowly, your tummy rumbled as you laughed and laughed. The notion of it all was silly. Still, you were entertained by it. Megumi seemed glad that you laughed. And that you went along with all of it. 

You took the pens, of course. You put them in your bag after he handed it to you. No one checked it and for the rest of the day, you tried them and made little doodles with them on your notepad at home. And that day, for the first time in a long time, you felt genuinely happy.

As much as Megumi claims he’s only there to “watch” you as part of his job, you found that it’s obvious he’s doing more than that. He’s doing the most out of all grim reapers you like to think.

Of course, you don’t know any other grim reapers. And you doubt you’d look sane if you tried to bring it up to another dying person. But your grim reaper, at least you, was the kindest. 

As you settle into bed, the hospital room bathed in the faint glow of a bedside lamp, you glance over at Megumi. He’s sitting in his usual chair, arms folded loosely, his expression calm but watchful.

It’s become routine now. His quiet presence is a constant that you’ve come to rely on, though you’d never admit it outright.

“I think you must be the kindest grim reaper to ever exist.” you say suddenly, the words spilling out before you can stop them. 

Your voice is soft, worn out from the day, but it carries the weight of sincerity. Megumi raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“Do you know any other grim reapers?” he asks, his tone laced with dry humor.

You chuckle, a sound that feels lighter than it has in weeks. “No, not at all.” you admit, smiling despite yourself. “But I don’t need to. You’ve set the bar pretty high, do you know that?”

He doesn’t respond, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, maybe, or perhaps a glimmer of gratitude he’d never put into words. His lips purse into a flat line, as he looks at you. You could tell that there’s something in his green–blue orbs that you couldn’t read. But you knew better than to ask.

“Thank you, Megumi.” you say after a moment, your voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

“For what?” he asks, his gaze steady on you.

“For being the first good thing in my life.” you say simply, your chest tightening as you force the words out. 

It feels strange to say, especially to someone like him. You know you shouldn’t be thanking the person meant to take your soul, the one who will guide you into the unknown. But it feels right. You swallow hard, looking away for a moment before meeting his eyes again. 

“I know it sounds ridiculous. Thanking a grim reaper. But I mean it. You were... the kindest thing in my destiny. And I think that’s enough to be happy about.”

Megumi doesn’t say anything right away. He doesn’t need to. The faintest nod of his head, the subtle softening of his usually stoic expression, is answer enough. The weight in your chest eases as you let your head sink into the pillow. Your eyelids grow heavy, and you fight to keep them open just a little longer. 

“Goodnight, Megumi.” you murmur, your voice trailing off as sleep begins to take hold.

“Good night.” he says softly, his voice carrying a gentleness you hadn’t expected.

As your breathing slows, becoming steady and rhythmic, Megumi stays where he is, his gaze fixed on you. And he knows. He just knows—it’s time. Your time. The moment hangs in the air, heavy and bittersweet, but he doesn’t flinch.

This was always the inevitability, but watching you now, peaceful and free from the fear that had once gripped you, he feels something akin to relief. Perhaps even a quiet sadness.

When the time comes, Megumi will be there, as he always has been. For now, though, he lets you rest, a faint sense of solace settling over the room.

══════════════════

IF HE WAS BEING HONEST, THIS MISSION WASN’T EVEN FOR HIM TO TAKE. Megumi didn’t choose this assignment at random. No, not at all. That morning began like any other in the sterile monotony of his existence. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting a pale glow on the rows of cubicles where reapers sat, reviewing their tasks for the day. 

He’d been staring at the dregs of his coffee, debating whether he had the energy to bother getting a fresh cup, when the assignments for the day appeared on the board—a mosaic of names, dates, faces.

He’d glanced up, disinterested at first. It was just another day in an endless cycle of endings. Souls came and went, and reapers like him did their jobs, guiding them to whatever came next. There was no time for attachment, no reason to linger on a single name or face.

But then he saw yours.

And everything stopped.

His coffee cup slipped from his fingers, shattering against the floor in a muted crash. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. He blinked once, twice, as if his eyes might be playing tricks on him. But no matter how many times he looked, it was unmistakable.

It was you.

Your face stared back at him from the board, frozen in a candid snapshot. It was a face he knew better than his own, even after all this time. A face he’d never forgotten, not even through lifetimes of distance.

It had been so long since he’d last seen you. Lifetimes ago, you had been more than just a part of his world—you had been his world. The memories were fractured and blurred at the edges, but they still burned vividly enough to hurt.

He remembered your laugh, bright and unrestrained, echoing through a life that had otherwise been far too short. He remembered the way you had looked at him, your gaze full of trust, full of hope.

He remembered losing you.

And now here you are again, pulled into this cycle of life and death that neither of you could escape. But this time, you were already dying. You were going to go and suffer again, and there would be no one to save you. He couldn’t stop it last time. And now, he cannot stop it this time. It was set in stone already.

And yet, his heart breaks over and over again. You were barely more than a child, younger than either of you had been in your shared past life. You hadn’t even been given a chance to live, and yet the world had decided it was already time to take you away.

Megumi’s heart ached in a way he hadn’t thought possible anymore. He was a reaper. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything. But as he stared at your photo, the weight of it all crushed him.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that you’d been taken from him once, and now it was happening all over again. This time, there would be no miracles, no last-minute reprieves. He knew that. He’d seen it a thousand times in other lives.

But he couldn’t just let you go alone.

Without thinking, he rose from his chair, his movements mechanical as he walked toward the board. Each step felt heavier than the last, his resolve hardening with every breath. When he reached your name, he stared at it for a long moment before finally speaking.

“I’ll take this one.” he said, his voice quiet but firm.

The room went silent. Assignments weren’t supposed to be chosen; they were distributed at random to avoid any emotional entanglements. Reapers were meant to be impartial. But no one questioned him. Megumi rarely spoke, rarely asked for anything. If he wanted this assignment, there had to be a reason.

As he returned to his desk, your face still fresh in his mind, he made himself a quiet promise. He couldn’t save you. The rules were clear. Your fate was already written, and nothing he did could change that.

But he could be there. He could make sure you didn’t have to face the end alone, that you wouldn’t have to feel the crushing loneliness he’d once felt when he lost you before.

Even if you didn’t remember him. Even if you didn’t know that in another life, you had been his entire world. He would carry that pain for both of you. Because this wasn’t just another assignment. It was you. And losing you again, even knowing it was inevitable, would be the cruelest fate of all.

When Megumi first appeared to you, he knew he had to keep his emotions in check. His job wasn’t to interfere, and no matter how much it hurt to see you again, he couldn’t let the truth slip. You didn’t know who he was, didn’t recognize the connection you’d once shared.

And why would you? To you, he was just a stranger. A quiet, brooding figure who had been assigned to shadow your dying days.

At first, he told himself that keeping his distance would make it easier. That if he stayed aloof, if he acted like this was just another assignment, maybe the ache in his chest wouldn’t consume him. But the moment he saw how lonely you were, trapped in a hospital bed, tethered to machines, fading faster than anyone your age should—he couldn’t help himself.

It was the little things at first. Reminding you of a nurse’s name when your memory failed. Offering a quiet presence during your treatments. Bringing you that pack of gel pens when he noticed your fingers twitching over the edges of your journal, longing to create something amidst the monotony of hospital life.

But as the days turned into weeks, Megumi found himself doing more than he should.

He started sitting closer to you, his usual stoic demeanor softening with every conversation. He started bringing you small comforts—a cup of coffee he swore he “found” a scarf on the day the hospital felt too cold, a faint smile when you told him a joke, no matter how bad it was.

“Why do you even hang around?” you asked one afternoon, your voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and weariness. 

You’d just finished another grueling medicinal session, your body too weak to sit up straight. He didn’t answer right away. For a moment, his gaze lingered on you, something unreadable in his dark blue–green eyes. Then, he shrugged.

“You’re interesting to me.” he said simply, but his voice betrayed the truth he couldn’t say.

You laughed weakly. “Interesting? I’m a walking tragedy.”

“No, never say that. Not ever again.” he said firmly, his tone surprising you. “You’re more than that. You are more than your tragedy.”

The words hung in the air, and you didn’t press further. But in that moment, something shifted between you. As time went on, you began to look forward to his visits. He wasn’t just a reaper to you anymore; he was someone who made the unbearable a little more bearable. 

Someone who listened when you needed to vent, who stayed when the nights felt too long, who reminded you that even in the shadow of death, you weren’t invisible. And Megumi… Megumi was breaking all his own rules. Rules he had set long after you, long before you again.

Every time he saw you laugh, even if it was just a fleeting chuckle, a part of him swore he’d do anything to keep that spark alive. But every time he saw you struggle; when your hands trembled too much to hold a pen, when your memories slipped further and further away—his heart ached in ways it hadn’t in centuries.

He hated this. Hated that you had to go through this. Hated that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t change your fate. But he stayed by your side through it all. He lets himself relive it all over again, no matter the pain. No matter what comes. Because it’s you. Come what may, it’s you.

“You know, Megumi.” you said softly, your voice almost drowned out by the hum of the machines. “You’re not so bad to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, but there was a faint twitch at the corner of his lips. “Not so bad?”

You smiled, your eyes heavy with exhaustion but still warm. “Yeah. You’re like... a friend. A precious friend.”

A friend. The word stabbed at him more than it should have. Because that’s all he could ever be to you in this life. A friend. A shadow. A quiet presence watching over you as you slowly slipped away.

“You think so, huh?” He asks you, as you nodded and smiled. Silence engulfs the room. “I don’t think I’ve ever been someone’s precious friend before.”

“Then we are the same. Well, almost.” 

He blinks at your words. “What do you mean?”

“If you call me your precious friend too, then we’ll finally have it. Being a precious person, at least once.”

You’ve always been a precious person to me. Megumi thinks to himself. In every lifetime, in every you — you have always been my precious person.

And even though he would never tell you the truth, that you’d been so much more to him in another life, that losing you once had broken him and losing you again was killing him all over again, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. 

Because this was his last chance to be with you, even if you didn’t remember him. Even if it would never be enough. Nothing with you would ever be enough, not even if you lived a thousand years. 

But, every moment is worth it, no matter how short it would be. When you love someone that much, it has to be enough. It has to be more than enough. He has to live through this immortal and wretched life, making those moments feel like they were as eternal as him. Even if he wanted more.

“Alright.” Megumi says to you as you perk up, your eyes shining. “You are a precious person to me.”

You giggled at his words. “Was it so hard to say? I am grateful that you said it at all.”

It was never hard to say. It never had been.

But now he has to live that memory over and over again.

He lets his lips echo a small warm smile as he looks at you.

“No, no it wasn’t hard at all.”

══════════════════

THE TREATMENTS HAVE STOPPED FULLY. And because of that your condition was getting worse and worse. The moments of clarity you once had were growing fewer and farther between. The pain in your body became an unwelcome constant, a weight that pulled you down even when you tried to fight against it. 

Every movement felt like dragging yourself through glass, and the fog in your mind thickened, stealing memories and thoughts before you could fully grasp them. Everything about it felt so fragile, and you were afraid of breaking it. Even if it was already broken, you were scared at seeing it break even more. You were scared and he couldn’t do much about it.

Megumi hated seeing you like this. He watched as you lay curled in your bed, tears streaming silently down your face, your breathing shaky and uneven. He hated the way your hands trembled as you gripped the blanket.

It was as if holding onto it might keep you tethered to something real. Something solid enough to bring you back to earth, to existence. To humanity. Hated the way your voice cracked when you spoke, each word laced with frustration and grief over what was slipping away from you.

“I hate this, I hate this.” you whispered one night, your voice barely audible. Your chest hitched with a quiet sob as you turned your face into the pillow, trying to muffle your cries. “I hate... not being able to think. To remember. I feel like I’m disappearing, and I can’t stop it.”

Megumi clenched his fists at his sides, his nails biting into his palms. He wanted to say something, to comfort you, but the words felt like ash in his throat. What could he say? That it would be okay? That you’d find peace? That this agony would end? None of it felt true, and none of it would matter to you at this moment.

You didn’t want peace. You wanted your life back.When you looked up at him, your eyes red  and swollen, the sight nearly broke him. You looked so weak, one couldn’t even think you were someone with such strength at one point. He hated this. He hated how miserable you’ve been, how pained you’ve been.

“I’m so tired, Megumi.” you admitted, your voice cracking as fresh tears welled in your eyes. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

Megumi moved closer, his steps slow and deliberate, as if he were afraid his presence might shatter you further. He sat at the edge of your bed, his usually impassive face shadowed with something raw and unguarded.

“You’re still you, you always will be.” he said quietly, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

You let out a bitter laugh, though it came out more like a choked sob. “How do you know that? You don’t even really know me.”

He froze for a moment, his gaze dropping to his hands. He wanted to tell you that he did know you, better than anyone ever could. That he remembered you in ways you couldn’t even begin to imagine. But he couldn’t. Not now.

Instead, he reached out, his hand hovering over yours for a moment before he let it settle gently against your trembling fingers. The touch was warm, grounding, and for a moment, the chaos inside you stilled.

“I know because I saw it. I’ve seen it all, even for a while.” he said finally. “Even when you’re hurting, even when it feels like everything is falling apart, I see you.”

His words hung in the air, fragile but steady, and something in your expression slowly softened. You leaned closer to him and he didn’t mind it at all. He pulled you even closer, letting that warmth of him become even more felt.

“It’s okay to be angry about all of this.” he continued, his voice steady now. “It’s okay to cry. You’ve been fighting so hard, for so long. You don’t have to hold it all in.”

Your tears flowed freely then, and Megumi stayed right where he was, his hand never leaving yours. He didn’t try to stop your sobs or hush your pain. He simply stayed, letting you pour out everything you’d been holding back. And for the first time in centuries, in his entire lifetime — Megumi couldn’t help but feel unequivocally  helpless.

He was a reaper, meant to guide and observe, but watching you crumble under the weight of your illness was unbearable. You didn’t deserve all of this. You shouldn’t suffer like this. You had done nothing wrong, not in your previous life and not this one. But this was still your fate. 

And he hated the unfairness of it all, the cruelty of a life that had given you so little only to take it away too soon. If he could have taken your place, he would have done it without hesitation.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t trade a life for a life. The gods do not have mercy in that regard. Fate was fate. He cannot do much about it. And he hates it. He hates seeing you like this. 

All he could do was stay by your side, no matter how much it hurt to watch. Because you deserved that much. You deserve someone who wouldn’t leave, even in your darkest moments. And Megumi would be damned if he let you face this alone.

As the night deepened, the room fell into a heavy, fragile silence. The only sounds were the steady hum of the machines and your quiet, uneven breaths as you lay spent from crying. Megumi hadn’t moved from his spot, his hand still lightly covering yours.

Your fingers twitched against his, seeking more warmth. The motion was subtle, but he noticed. Carefully, he threaded his fingers between yours, his grip firm but not overbearing. You didn’t pull away. Instead, your grip tightened just a little, like you were holding on to him for dear life.

“Why do you stay?” you asked, your voice hoarse from the tears but tinged with something vulnerable. You didn’t meet his eyes, staring instead at the faint outline of his hand entwined with yours.

Megumi hesitated. He wasn’t good at this—at talking about feelings. He was better at quiet gestures and staying in the background. But something about the way you asked, so small and uncertain, pulled the words out of him.

“Because you shouldn’t have to go through this alone, jot ever.” he said softly, his gaze fixed on you.

You blinked at his answer, a lump forming in your throat. “But you don’t even know me, not at all, Megumi.” you repeated, weaker this time, as if you wanted to believe him but couldn’t quite bring yourself to. “How could you stay for someone like me?”

Megumi’s jaw tightened. 

You didn’t know half of it.

“I know enough.” he said finally. “I know you’re stubborn and strong, even when you feel like you’re not. I know you don’t like hospital food, but you’ll eat it anyway because you don’t want to make the nurses worry. I know you still draw on the edges of your notebooks, even when your hands shake so much that the lines go crooked.”

Your eyes widened slightly at his words and Megumi felt his heart clench at the way you were looking at him, like you were seeing him for the first time. And as though, it was the first time in a while you had known him that he truly saw you.

“I see you.” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Every part of you, even the ones you think you’ve lost. They’re still there. You’re still here.”

You felt the tears welling up again, but this time, they weren’t from frustration or anger. They were something softer, quieter. You take a deep breath, to calm yourself for a moment.

And he brushes your hand against your own. He was so warm, even when your hands were cold. He warmed you enough back to life, even for just that moment. 

“You make it sound like I’m worth something.” you murmured, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips.

“You are. You always have been.” he said instantly, the conviction in his voice startling you. “More than you know. I promise you.”

Your chest ached, not from the illness this time, but from the overwhelming mixture of emotions his words stirred in you. It was almost too much, but at the same time, you didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want him to stop bringing you back to life. You didn’t want him to stop giving you reasons to want to live.

“Megumi.” you said quietly, finally looking up at him.

His name sounded different coming from you, like it carried more weight, more meaning than it ever had before. It was as warm as back then, when you would say his name and smile at him, like he was your world. Like he was someone you dearly loved.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice softer now, like he was afraid of breaking the moment.

You hesitated, your dulling eyes searching for something you couldn’t quite put into words. Then, with a shaky breath, you smiled—a real smile, small but genuine.“Thank you. For all you have done for me, for all you will ever do for me. Thank you.”

Megumi’s lips couldn’t help but twitch at your words, and for the first time, he allowed himself to give you a wide smile in return. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there, and it was for you, only for you. And you knew that it was only for you.

“Don’t mention it.” he said, his usual stoicism creeping back into his tone, but there was an undeniable warmth beneath it.

That night, as you finally drifted off to sleep, your hand still holding his, Megumi stayed by your side. He watched the rise and fall of your chest, each breath a reminder that you were still here, still fighting. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Megumi let himself hope.

Not for a miracle, no. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe in those anymore—but for something smaller. He hoped that in the time you had left, he could make sure you knew you weren’t just a fleeting soul, a name on a list, a face on a board. 

You were everything to him, even if you never remembered why. And as he sat there, his hand still holding yours in the quiet of the night, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could carry that truth for both of you.

══════════════════

HE KNEW THAT HE CAN’T KEEP BUYING TIME. That’s not how it works in this line of work. The higher-ups had been patient with Megumi for as long as they could. They had watched from a distance as he ignored the rules, as he lingered at your side longer than necessary.

He had been told once, perhaps twice, that his attachment was blurring the lines of his duty. But no one had come forward to confront him, not until now.

The meeting room was cold, sterile—just like all the others. It was almost like the hospital. It even smells like it too. The flickering lights did nothing to soften the sharp voices of his superiors, their words cutting through him like a blade. Megumi has always hated this room. As much as you hate the hospitals. 

He has lived for a long time. He has been in the reaper department for so long, he doesn’t even remember when he had started. But no matter how many times he stays in it, the smell will always linger and he hates it. Just as much as he hates the higher-ups, perhaps. Yet, he knew he couldn’t admit it out loud.

“Megumi, this isn’t working any longer.” One of them had said it, their voice cutting through the stale air of the room like a blade, sharp with frustration.

The council sat in their cold, unfeeling silence, their dark robes blending into the shadows that clung to the room. The words echoed in Megumi’s ears, even as he sat still, his fists clenched tightly under the table.

“They are already dying,” the voice continued, each word hammering against him. “You know this, you always have. Fate cannot be changed. You cannot keep delaying it. You’re prolonging their suffering, and you know it. We cannot let this go on any longer.”

Megumi’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. His blue-green eyes stayed fixed on the floor, a storm brewing behind them. He didn’t argue, didn’t defend himself, because deep down, he knew they were right. He could feel it every time he saw you. 

In this way your body grew weaker with each passing day, as if life itself was slipping through your fingers. Each breath you took was a silent battle, and every glance you gave him carried an unspoken understanding that your time was coming.

But what they didn’t understand, what they couldn’t understand, was why he couldn’t just let go. Not yet. Not when your laughter still lingered in the corners of the hospital room.

Not when you still found the strength to smile at him, even through the haze of your pain. Not when you had thanked him—thanked him—for being the kindest thing in your life. How could he take that away from you? How could he take it away from himself?

“It’s not for your benefit that they should stay alive, you know that.” another elder said, their voice low but unyielding, like a hammer falling against stone. “Do it for their sake. The sooner you do it, the sooner they can find peace. You mustn’t prolong the suffering for your wants.”

The words cut deeper than Megumi would ever admit, a blow he wasn’t prepared for. His fists tightened until his nails bit into his palms, but he kept his gaze down, unwilling to let them see the flicker of defiance in his eyes. 

He wanted to scream at them, to tell them they didn’t understand, that it wasn’t about his wants, it never had been. It was about you. About giving you every last moment, every fleeting second that you deserved, no matter how much it hurt him to watch.

But none of that mattered to them. The rules were the rules. His mission was clear: guide souls to the other side, no matter the cost, no matter the pain. He was meant to be impartial, detached, but he wasn’t. Not this time.

As the meeting adjourned, their final words hung in the air like a noose tightening around his neck. “You have to let them go, Megumi.” the elder had said, their tone devoid of sympathy. “It’s not about you. It’s about them. Do what must be done.”

When the room emptied, Megumi remained seated, his shoulders heavy with the weight of their judgment. He wanted to argue, to push back against the inevitability they demanded he enforce. But deep down, he knew he couldn’t delay forever. 

He could feel the edges of your life fraying, could see the way the light in your eyes flickered, like a candle in its final moments. And yet, even as he sat there, alone in the suffocating silence, he made a decision.

Not yet.

Because you deserve those moments, however brief they might be. You deserved the warmth of the sun on your skin, the chance to smile one more time, the chance to feel something other than pain before the end. And if he could give you that, even at the cost of his own heart, he would.

But he also knew the truth, the one he couldn’t ignore forever. Time wasn’t on your side. And when the moment came, when the inevitability could no longer be postponed, Megumi would have to let you go.

Just not today.

Not yet.

He needs more time.

When the meeting ended, Megumi didn’t move. He couldn’t. His mind was too heavy with the weight of their demands, and yet his heart felt too torn to process it. He takes a moment to compose himself before he walks out. 

As he walked out into the hallway, he wasn’t surprised to find Gojo Satoru waiting for him, leaning casually against the wall with that ever-present, cocky grin on his face. The two of them had known each other for lifetimes, especially with how Gojo was now his boss. 

Though Gojo was the opposite of Megumi in nearly every way. Where Megumi was reserved and quiet, Gojo was loud and unapologetic. He hated the elders too, he hated the rules as much as Megumi too. 

But he had never let himself be swallowed by what he feels personally as he works. And Gojo Satoru knew that too well, when he saw that look in Megumi’s face. He had not taught him well enough to separate it all. 

“Megumi, hey.” Gojo said, his voice a little more serious than usual. “Can we talk?”

Without waiting for an answer, Gojo pushed himself off the wall and fell into step beside Megumi, leading him down a quieter hall away from the bustling administrative wing. He already knew what he was going to say.

But Megumi wishes he wouldn’t say it. Because when Gojo says it, it becomes even more real. It becomes even more true. And it’s something he can’t handle. Not right now.

“I know what you’re thinking, okay?” Gojo began, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. “And I know it’s hard.”

He’s saying it. He’s talking about it. There was nothing that would stop it from being real. Not anymore. Megumi didn’t answer, he didn’t want to. He didn’t need to.

Gojo  Satoru could always read him, could always sense what was going on under the surface, even when Megumi tried to hide it. He was always going to tell Megumi the truth, even when it was hard.

“I don’t get it, Gojo–san.” Megumi said, his voice low, rough from the strain of keeping it all in. “I know the rules. I know they have to go. But… but I can’t just let them die like this. Not again. Not this miserably.” 

He stopped in the middle of the hallway, turning to face Gojo, his face a mix of frustration and sorrow. “They’re suffering so much and miserable to boot, and I’m supposed to just… let them go? How is that even fair?”

Gojo’s expression softened, the usual smugness gone, replaced by something much more genuine. He took a step closer, his hands in his pockets as he regarded Megumi with quiet understanding. He takes a deep sigh.

“I know it’s not easy, kid.” Gojo said, his voice lower now, almost tender. “But this isn’t about what you want. You’re not their savior, Megumi. You’re their guide. You can’t heal them, that’s not part of the job description. It never was. You can’t protect them from everything.”

The words stung, sharper than Megumi expected. 

But it was the truth, the unavoidable truth.

This was a job, even if it meant the world to him.

It cannot be more than a job, not even like this.

“I know you care about them. Hell, you’re probably more attached than anyone in this damn place,” Gojo continued, the hint of a wry smile tugging at his lips. “But your job is to make them transition to something peaceful. To comfort them. Not to prolong their suffering because you’re too scared to let them go.”

Megumi looked away, his blue–green eyes burning with the weight of his own guilt. He could feel them water ever so slowly as he thinks about you, about everything you suffered — in all your lives. And now, when you suffered the most. He bit his lower lip. How could he just let it all go?

“I can’t just stand by and watch them die, Gojo–san.” he whispered, his voice shaking slightly, betraying the deep ache inside him. “Not like this. Not when I… when I care about them this much. Not when….Not when I love them so much.”

Gojo Satoru’s gaze softened further, taking a moment to sigh at him. He’d known Megumi for so long. He’s a good kid, he’s always been the best of everyone here, if he was being honest. But even now, he was still so human. And perhaps that is his weakness. He cannot be a reaper, and be human too. He cannot have both.

“I know, kid. I know.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “But this is the hardest part. You have to be strong for them now. It’s time. And you have to do your job. You have to help them let go. That’s the only way they’ll be able to be free from the pain, okay? If you do your job. They’ll be free. And it can be, if anything, the greatest act of love.”

Megumi wanted to argue, wanted to lash out and scream that it wasn’t fair, that this wasn’t right. But something in Gojo’s cerulean eyes made him stop. Gojo Satoru wasn’t just talking about the rules; he was talking about them. About the person Megumi had come to love more than anything in this world, someone who was ever so dear to him in each and every lifetime. 

He was right. He can’t do anything about death or about fate. And he was right — death was the greatest mercy, instead of suffering. This could be the greatest act of love, as it had always been in each lifetime. To be there for you, to hold your hand and whisper all the love he has in your ear as you go. To set you free.

The truth was hard to swallow, but the reality was clearer than ever. Your suffering wasn’t going to end unless he let you go. And if he truly cared about you, he would have to find the strength to be the one to guide you to peace. With a deep breath, Megumi nodded, the weight of his decision settling in.

“I’ll do it, Gojo–san.” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “I’ll make sure they’re at peace.”

Gojo gave him a small, approving nod. “You’re doing the right thing.”

Megumi knew it would be one of the hardest things he’d ever do. But as he turned back down to earth, to the hall toward where you were waiting, his heart heavy with the knowledge of what was to come, he also knew it was the only way to truly set you free. 

He just hoped that, somehow, you would understand. And that you would forgive him. That you would smile warmly back at him once again, when you meet him again in your next life. That you could love him again, if you can.

══════════════════

HE BRACED HIMSELF FOR WHAT COMES NEXT. Megumi stood outside your hospital room, his heart heavy in his chest. The hallway was unnervingly quiet, the soft beep of monitors and the occasional shuffle of nurses’ footsteps the only sounds that kept him tethered to reality. 

He had never been so sure of something—so certain that this moment had arrived. It was time. He swallowed hard, fighting the lump in his throat, before pushing the door open and stepping inside. Having done it once didn’t make it any easier. If anything, it made it harder. He’d have to relive this moment over and over again, like all the other times.

But he had no other choice. If you were to die, he’d rather it be him holding you. He would rather it be him you hurt, leave a scar only he could see. Megumi would rather that he would be the one to comfort you one last time, to tell you that he’s got you. That everything will be alright. Because you were together. Because he was the one taking you away.

You were there, propped up against the pillows, looking so small under the white sheets. Your face was pale, your features drawn and tired, but when you saw him, your expression softened, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

"You're here again, hm?" you said, your voice hoarse but warm.

Megumi stood frozen for a moment, the sight of you sending a wave of emotions crashing over him. You looked so fragile, so close to the edge, and yet here you were, smiling at him like nothing was wrong. Like you hadn’t been battling this slow, painful decline for so long.

He forced his lips into a small, bittersweet smile. "Of course I’m here."

You sat up a little straighter in your bed, your eyes trying to focus on him. There was a faint sense of confusion in them, as if the fog in your mind was thicker than usual today. You reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you sought his, and Megumi moved closer, carefully taking your hand in his.

"I didn’t know if you'd come today, you know." you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. “For the last time.”

Megumi felt the weight of your words press against his chest. You couldn’t remember everything, not anymore, but you remembered him. And somehow, that was a mercy. A small one, but a mercy nonetheless. He hated it, but it was all he had. It was all there was left.

"I’m always here when you need me, always." he said quietly, his voice unsteady despite the calm he tried to project. "You know that, right?"

You nodded slowly, as though trying to make sense of everything that was slipping through your fingers. The memory of his voice, the sensation of his presence, the feel of his hand in yours—it was enough to pull you back from the brink.

"I... I don’t remember... a lot." you confessed, your voice faltering, as though you were apologizing for something you couldn’t control. "But... I remember you."

Megumi’s heart squeezed at that, and he fought the urge to crumble. Don’t show weakness now, he told himself. Not with them. Not when they need you the most. Don’t falter. Love them, love them even if it hurts. 

“I’ll always be here.” he repeated softly, gently squeezing your hand. “You’ve always been important to me. You always will be.”

You tried to smile again, though it was faint, and the effort seemed to take everything out of you. "I wish I could remember everything... all the good stuff we did together. There was a lot, wasn’t it? Even before…..I’m sorry if I don’t remember it all. But I can remember you right now, Megumi. I hope that’s enough. I hope…I hope that’s alright."

He felt his eyes sting, but he held it back, keeping his gaze steady on yours. "That’s enough. That’s more than enough."

Your grip tightened a little on his hand, your eyes slowly drifting over his face, as if committing his features to memory, trying to remember every detail of him before the fog came back.

 "It’s always so funny to me." you whispered, a soft laugh escaping your lips despite the heaviness in the air. "You don’t look like a grim reaper."

Megumi chuckled quietly, the sound devoid of any real humor. "I get that a lot."

The silence stretched between you both, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt almost peaceful, like the calm before the storm. You leaned back against the pillows, but you didn’t let go of his hand.There were so many things he wanted to say to you. 

So many words that were caught in his throat, threatening to spill over. But now—now there was no time for them. No time for the confessions, for the truth he’d never dared to speak. He simply stayed there, sitting at your side, holding your hand, because that was all he could do.

When you spoke again, it was quieter, slower. "I don’t want to forget you, not ever, not now." you said, your voice so fragile, so raw. "But I know I will. I already am."

Megumi shook his head, his thumb brushing lightly across the back of your hand, as though to comfort you, even though the words he wanted to say wouldn’t come. He couldn't promise you anything, couldn't tell you that this would all be okay, because it wouldn’t be.

“I’ll never forget you.” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll remember for the both of us. Even when you aren’t here anymore.”

“Then….will you let me fall in love with you again, if I were to be reborn?” You asked him, tears in your eyes pouring down your cheeks. “Will you let me, Megumi?”

His breath hitches shakily. His lips wobbled into a small watery smile. “Of course, I will. You can love me as many times as you want. I’ll let you do it. Over and over again.”

You choked into a giggle. “Then….Then, I’m glad. I’m forgetful, after all. It’s good, you’ll remind me next time.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that. Even at the end, you were taking care of him. You were making sure he wasn’t sad. You looked at him, really looked at him, and for a brief moment, the confusion in your eyes faded. 

The fog cleared, just a little, and you smiled. It was a small, soft smile, but it was there, and it was for him. All for him. As it always has been. You take a moment, a breath. He waits patiently for what you want to say.

“I wish…..” you whispered, your voice trailing off as your eyes fluttered closed, exhaustion finally taking over.

Megumi’s chest tightened as he waited.  

But the words never came out of your lips. 

As you slipped into a quiet sleep, your breath steady and calm, Megumi stayed by your side, his hand still holding yours. He knew it wasn’t enough to stop what was coming. But for now, he will hold on. He will cherish the warmth that remains. 

It was the last time. The last time he would see you, the last time he would hear your voice, the last time he would get to make you feel comforted before you let go. And somehow, it was enough. Because you remembered him. And that was all that mattered now.

“I love you.” He whispers to you as he closes his eyes, letting the tears flow. “Goodbye.”

[swiftyangx12]

🟦🤍A Misunderstanding🩵🟥

[Pairing]: TFA Optimus Prime x Cybertronian!Autobot![Reader]

[Synopsis]: [D/N] can’t catch a break from being misidentified for a Decepticon. At least they have someone who understands their struggles as a commander.

[Inspiration]: A request I sent out some time ago and @signedaiko wrote the HCs out. (HCs with the Special Ops![S/O])

[D/N] = Designation (Meaning your name)

[Gender Neutral Reader]

[(A/N)]: Based on Aiko’s HCs, I’m only writing Optimus in this fic because I’m kind of biased. Also, I need to practice writing characters from the TF franchise and TFA O.P. seems like he’s an easy start. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the story.

[WARNING]: Possible misuse of Cybertronian Vocabulary and Terminology (I’m still new to the fandom)

[Back when [D/N] was first promoted to their position as Commander of the Information Operations, they were issued to get a paint job with much darker colors since most missions require stealth. The team [D/N] leads and work with are good bots, but the only trouble the whole unit faces sometimes are the misunderstandings from a first glance.]

Random Cybertronian: EHH! DECEPTICON!!!

[D/N]: No, no, no! I’m not a Dece-!

Random Cybertronian: *Whacks them with an alloy pole*

[D/N]: OW!

🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥

[It didn’t help when they visit Earth to see their Conjunx Endura. People, especially Detroit citizens, also mistook them for one.]

Random citizen: Call the Autobots! Decepticon on sight!

[D/N]: Wait a klik! I’m not with the bad guys.

[After clearing up the commotion]

Random citizen: I’m so sorry! I thought you were one of those Decepticons.

[D/N]: It’s alright. At least you have good optics if spotting one, but please be sure if you see their Insignia next time.

🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥

[It also didn’t help that even the Decepticons on Earth were bewildered to discover that [D/N] is an Autobot.]

Starscream: When did one of our Decepticons switch sides?!

[D/N]: *Enraged* 💢 I AM NOT A DECEPTICON IN THE FIRST PLACE, YOU FRAGGING IDIOTS!!!

The Decepticons: Uh oh.

[D/N]: *Unsheathes their razor neon blades and sprints towards the enemies* AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥

[Yeah, from that last battle, [D/N] was on rage mode where they kicked the Decepticons’ afts to the extremes. On their own. Probably put them out of commission for a while. They definitely need private time with their Sparkmate.]

[The Plant: The Autobots’ Secret Base]

[D/N]: Oppy, sweetspark~ *Back-hugs Optimus* My wonderful and lovely conjunx~

Optimus Prime: *Holds their bitarlueus’ carefully and looks back* What is it, [D/N]? You usually call me those names if something is bothering you.

[D/N]: There is. When I retire from the position as commander of my unit, I’m getting a new paint job.

Optimus Prime: Oh, that doesn’t sound bad. Why the sudden thought?

[D/N]: *Vents out from their intake (Sighs)* Almost every bot and person I encounter, they mistake me for a Decepticon. It’s what I get for earning a job where my team and I are required to wear coatings for stealth operations. The tones are too close to the actual faction’s.

Optimus Prime: Well, you also act scary when on duty.

[D/N]: *Pouts* That doesn’t help either.

Optimus Prime: *Chuckles a little* Don’t worry, [D/N]. We know you’re good and just doing your job as a commander. You proved to be a great bot every cycle.

[D/N]: Yeah…But I still remember when Sari and Bee freaked out after seeing me.

Optimus Prime: They didn’t know you’re on our side at that time. Now, they love you for being your true self.

[D/N]: Yeah…Y’know, when I do retire, you wanna help choose which color scheme suits me?

Optimus Prime: Only if you’re comfortable with the choices.

[D/N]: *Smiles at him* You’re so thoughtful, Oppy. I love you.

Optimus Prime: Love you too, [D/N].

🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥🤍🩵💛🟦🟥

[A Few Deca-Cycles Later]

[At Night]

[S/N] = Sparkling’s Name

[S/N]: *Runs up to Optimus on their little pedes* Sire! Sire! Was this Carrier? *Holds up a data-pad with an old image of [D/N] back when they were a commander*

Optimus Prime: “Oh scrap.” Where did you find this? You know your carrier isn’t comfortable talking about their old job yet.

[D/N]: Don’t worry, Oppy. I let them see the ‘pad.

Optimus Prime: [D/N]. I didn’t expect you to tell so soon.

[D/N]: *Shrugs* [S/N] would learn sooner than later. They didn’t believe the image was me and needed your confirmation.

Optimus Prime: Well… *Picks up [S/N] and adjusts his hold* To tell you the truth, that is your carrier.

[S/N]: Really?! They look too scary to be my creator.

[D/N]: *Made an expression on their faceplate that screams, “Even my kid thinks I looked scary.”* (￣^￣)

Optimus Prime: That’s because back then, Carrier needed to look the part as a leader for their special unit. They have to wear darker coats of paint as their uniform.

[S/N]: Why? No bright colors allowed?

[D/N]: No bright colors, because I had missions where you need to be sneaky. Hiding in the dark and go for the surprise attack! *Starts tickling their Sparkling*

[S/N]: *Laughs from the “attack”* S-Stop! Stop! Can’t vent!

[D/N]: *Stops tickling* Alright, alright. Now, you better get ready for stasis mode since the next cycle is a big one.

[S/N]: *Gasps* I get to visit uncle Bee and uncle Bulk!

[D/N]: That’s right. Now… *Picks them up from Optimus and settles them down* Wash up and maybe we’ll read you a story before berth.

[S/N]: *Nods and hurries off to freshen up*

Optimus Prime: *Hugs [D/N] from behind* You know, I fear next time you need to be be called in to resume your duties.

[D/N]: *Leaning in the hug* Don’t worry, Oppy. I’m sure my successor is doing fine as commander and I only come in as a consultant for my former team.

Optimus Prime: If you say so. Then more time between us and see how it plays out.

[D/N]: After reading a story to [S/N], then maybe we’ll see what happens next.

Optimus Prime: *Vents out* Love you, [D/N].

[D/N]: Love you too, Oppy.

❤️[Reblogs help creators and creates more content]💙

[(A/N)]: Please be sure to visit @signedaiko’s blog and check out their work. Their writing is really entertaining and fun to read.

[justanotherpersonwhowrites]

We were seriously cheated from a great character arc with JJ and Jarah's baby.

Imagine JJ "you don't want me around your kid" Maybank meeting little Jarah junior. This guy is convinced that having kids is not in his future because he'll just mess them up, and he doesn't want to do to any kid what Luke did to him. He never even considers being a father because he just knows on a deep, intrinsic level that he's not someone to be trusted around kids. When John B and Sarah's baby is born he tries to find every excuse to be away from the house as much as possible until John B finally forces him to spend some time with the baby.

At first he's super hesitant because he doesn't want to do something that will somehow affect that kid later on and he "doesn't know how to interact with kids," but literally everyone else can see how good he is with the baby. There's some challenges naturally and he still doesn't trust himself around the baby very much but one day he ends up being the only Pouge available to babysit. He freaks out about being left alone with little Jarah junior, but the longer he spends with the kid the more he realizes that there is no way he would ever be able to hurt them. Like, he can't even rationalize how anyone can look at a baby and think about doing any of what Luke did to him.

So after that moment he begins to trust himself more around the kid. He'd be the fun uncle who sometimes introduced questionable activities, but he'd also gain some (much needed, long awaited) responsibility. And you better believe he would be the most protective of that kid. Rivaling John B? Probably.

I can just imagine him realizing that he can choose to treat this kid the complete opposite of how Luke treated him, and taking every opportunity to do so. And eventually it hits him that despite how much Luke's abuse messed with him, it doesn't mean he has to let it control the rest of his life. Maybe he could be a dad after all and do his own kid justice, ya know?

Yup... it's safe to say that I can't get this story line out of my head and am 99% sure I will end up writing a fan fic on this exact premise at some point in the not too distant future.

[p-artsypants]

Fiddle Me This

Ao3 | FF.net

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

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

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

Set somewhere during RTTE, before Blindsided.

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When do we leave?” Asked Astrid. 

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

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

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

“Boo!” 

“Killjoy!” 

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckled awkwardly. “Yeeeeep.”  

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

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

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

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

“A notable exception.”

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

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

“Yeeeep.” 

“So, are you good?” Asked Tuff. 

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

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

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

“So a few months.” 

“Give or take.” 

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

“Excuse me?” 

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

“What are you talking about?” Hiccup pressed. 

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

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

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

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

“Nope, not a nyckelharpa,” said Tuff. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I?” Tuff wiggled his fingers. 

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

“Screeching?”

“‘Fork-on-dinnerplate’?”

“Dying cat?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I will,” said Astrid. 

“Me too!” Said Fishlegs. 

Hiccup looked meaningfully at the Twins and Snotlout. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What songs can you play?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, you’d be surprised…” 

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

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

“Evening son! Have a good flight?” 

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

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

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

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

“Others?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A damn fine fiddler!” Gobber added. 

“Thanks but—“ 

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

“You didn’t.” 

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

“DAD!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh Thor, that one?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think I’m going to be sick.” 

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

“What about stage paralysis?” He asked. 

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

“And the songs that they’re playing?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Absolutely.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His fiddle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That was years ago!” She hissed. 

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

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

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

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

“Dear, you’ll be old by then.” 

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

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

“Mother!” Astrid damn near screamed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then his eyes met hers.

She waved and smiled. 

He ducked his head sheepishly. 

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

Toothless.   

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

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

“Pst! Toothless!” 

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

“Hiccup’s inside!” She pointed. 

He leapt to his feet and trotted over. 

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

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

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

Toothless laid at his feet, paws crossed elegantly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Astrid flushed red. “T-t-to who?” 

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

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

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

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

—-

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

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

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

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

“Did the twins cause any—”

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

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

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

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

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

“How goes the fiddling practice?” Asked Fishlegs. 

Astrid flinched heavily, ready to punch him. 

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

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

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

“And that is…?”

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

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

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

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

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

Hiccup sighed. “Yep.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll love it,” insisted Ruffnut. 

“Somehow, I doubt that completely.” 

—

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

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

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

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

Hiccup smiled proudly. 

“And look at you, boy-o!” Hamish praised, spotting him. “Shot up like a tree! I wager you’ll be taller than your old man one day.” 

“Wouldn’t that be something?” Hiccup chuckled. 

“Well you’ve grown into a fine young man, are your fiddling skills set to match?” 

Hiccup’s smile faltered. “Hamish, I’m going to do my best, but I don’t think I’ll ever be as good as you.” 

“Hiccup…” Stoick reprimanded. 

“You aren’t me, lad!” Hamish said joyfully. “I could never tame a dragon like you did! Let alone smith a tail! You have a lot of skills that you’ve honed over the years. Your father just said you never gave up the instrument, so I want to see what you’ve got!” 

That seemed to relieve Hiccup more than any other words had up until now. He smiled genuinely and said, “thanks for understanding.” 

Hagar, the new chief of the Shivering Shores disembarked a moment later and came to stand by his dad. He was just as large, but had no gray in his beard. He greeted Hiccup and Stoick with a wide smile.

“Incoming dragons!” The lookout called, pointing out over the sea. 

Hiccup and Astrid narrowed their eyes, looking at the two dragons coming in. 

“Is that…?” Astrid asked. 

“Oh gods,” Hiccup moaned. 

Before they even landed, a voice called boisterously. “BROTHER!” 

“H-hey Dagur…” Hiccup waved awkwardly. 

“Dagur of the Berserkers?” Asked Hamish. “What a pleasant surprise! What are you doing here?” 

“Hamish! You’re looking well!” Dagur and Shattermaster landed at the docks while Heather landed back by Astrid. “How are you feeling?” 

“Oh I’m doing pretty good. Some days are better than others. Been having a lot of great days leading up to this trip!” 

“Great to hear!” 

“So…what brings you to Berk?” Hiccup asked, dread churning in his gut. He had been on edge since Snotlout and the Twins said they had a surprise for him. 

Dagur laughed. “Isn’t it obvious?! We’re here to see your fiddling prowess!” 

Hiccup smacked his forehead. “Those muttonheads…” 

“Yes, Heather and I came to check in on the Edge a few days ago, and Snothat told us all about what you were doing! Why didn’t you ever tell me you played the fiddle?” 

“He didn’t tell any of us,” said Astrid. “Apparently, he’s not very good.” She smirked. 

“So he thinks!” Said Stoick. 

“Alright, alright. I should have known,” Hiccup groaned. “It’s fine. The more the merrier, right?” He smiled, but it was wobbly. 

 “And of course it’s always a pleasure to see the Shivering Shores folks, especially after we confirmed our alliance.” He shook Hamish and Hagar’s hands. 

“Glad to have Berserker Island back in our good graces,” said Hagar. 

“It's all thanks to my sweet baby brother!” Dagur grabbed Hiccup and pulled him into a side hug. “Showed me the error of my ways. Converted me into a real dragon lover. United me with my long lost sister! Oh, such a big and loving heart! The heart of an artist and musician!” 

Hiccup wheezed. “You’re too kind, Dagur.” 

“Brother?” Asked Hagar with an amused smile. 

“Honorary title,” Hiccup wheezed again. 

It seemed like Dagur’s praise reframed his arrival to Hagar and Hamish, and they looked a lot more relaxed and amused. 

“We’ll only stay tonight,” said Heather. “To watch Hiccup’s performance and give our dragons some time to rest. This is your vacation, after all. We didn’t mean to intrude.” 

“Tonight is the best part, anyway!” Said Hagar. “Feasting! Music! Dancing! And barrels of mead!” He gestured to their ship, where several barrels were stacked in a pyramid. 

Stoick cheered gleefully. 

“Perfect,” said Hiccup, “drunk ears are happy ears.” 

Astrid elbowed him. 

—-

Dinner time came around far too quickly for Hiccup’s liking, as with most things dreaded. 

The band was setting up in front of a support pillar. The tables were arranged in a semi circle around them, with enough space in front to move around. Directly to Hiccup’s left was the head table, where Hamish, Hagar, and his father sat. Next to them, with a front row view, was the table with his friends. They all watched eagerly as Hiccup moved around and talked with the band. 

Toothless laid at the front of the table, on his absolute best behavior. His eyes were rounded and soft, as he occasionally stuck his tongue out in excitement. 

People were still milling around, getting drinks and sharing food. 

No introductions were made yet, no commencement speeches, but Hiccup had his fiddle in hand and walked up to the front of the band. The players watched him, waiting for a queue.

Hiccup nodded his head, put the fiddle to his chin and started a fast paced one note sprint, literally sounding like someone was running. Then Hackjaw came in with several heavy beats of his drum. Then the rest of the band joined, filling the hall with boisterous music. 

And to Astrid’s disappointment, mostly drowning out Hiccup. He had taken a few steps back to stand with the group. He had his head bowed, and eyes clenched shut tightly as he played. Occasionally, she thought she could hear that sprinting note from him, but the song seemed to highlight the other members of the band. Frida had an incredible performance on the lute, plucking the notes and a dizzying speed. Same with each member, all having a unique solo to introduce their sound. The band played the same driving melody in the background while Hiccup stayed playing that same note.

The song came to an end, and the crowd was full of cheers. 

Hiccup sighed in relief and shared a smile with the other players. They all gave him thumbs up. 

“Looks like everyone has found their seats,” said Stoick, his voice booming over the chattering crowd. 

Everyone grew silent, ready to listen. 

“Tonight, we welcome our dear friends from the Shivering Shores, and celebrate their new era with them. Hagar has shown to be a very capable leader, and will surely follow in his father’s legacy.” 

A cheer. 

“We honor our friendship with the Shivering Shores, and we’re grateful for the many years Hamish worked with us. As a thank you, we have a special performance prepared. Specially requested from Hamish himself, my son Hiccup will be joining the band tonight on the fiddle.” 

Another cheer went up through the crowd, and Astrid swore she heard people say “no way” and “he’s so much like his mother” and even “is there anything he can’t do?” 

It made Astrid’s heart swell with pride. 

“Many of you older folks may remember that my dear Valka was a fiddler. Well, as a little boy, Hiccup picked up the instrument and got his instruction from Hamish himself, the best fiddler in the archipelago.” 

“We’ll see about that!” Hamish laughed. 

Stoick grinned. “Hiccup has prepared several unique songs for your listening pleasure this evening. Take it away whenever you’re ready, son.” 

Hiccup had his awkward ‘I know I messed up but please don’t be mad at me’ smile on his face as he shuffled closer to the front. 

He shrugged and said, “sorry in advance.” 

The rest of the band scoffed.

He put the fiddle on his chin, taking several deep breaths. He glanced across the room, lingering on Astrid’s face for a moment. 

She gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up. 

Then he looked at Toothless, and actually started to smile a little. 

He turned to the band, and mouthed something to them, though she couldn’t tell what. 

Then he pinched his eyes shut, and set his mouth in a thin line…

And he attacked the fiddle, the bow ripping across the strings with the fervor to make sparks fly if they could. His eyebrows twitched and his nostrils flared as the notes came out rapid fire. His entire body moved with the effort, like it took every fiber of his being to make this wonderful, soul-filling sound. 

“Holy—” Snotlout barked. 

He briefly turned to the band and bobbed his head to bring them in, and a joyful bouncing beat filled the hall. People started stomping and clapping. 

Then the fiddle slowed to a less intense melody, and Hiccup opened his mouth. 

“Years ago, when I was younger, I kinda liked a girl I knew.

Thought she was mine and we were sweethearts. That was then, but then it's true…”

The music cut out, except for a few plucks of the fiddle strings. 

Then Hiccup belted out, while continuing to play. 

“I'm in love with a fairytale! Even though it hurts…

'Cause I don't care if I lose my mind, I'm already cursed!” 

He returned to that intense dance with the bow, his heel slamming back on the floor with each beat of the drum. He twisted and jerked, like he was fighting with the music. 

And he was winning.

“Every day, between the fighting, I could have sworn we fell in love.

No one else could make me sadder, but no one else could lift me high above!

I don't know what I was doing, she let me go, we grew apart…

Nowadays, I cannot brave her…” 

He dared to smile.

“But when I do, we'll get a brand new start!” 

He pulled on the strings, a high note that conveyed heartache. Astrid felt it in her chest.

“I'm in love with a fairytale, even though it hurts,

'Cause I don't care if I lose my mind, I'm already cursed…”

The band cut out, suddenly, leaving Hiccup to battle the notes on his own. His fingers flew in a flurry, matching the cutting of the bow. Hiccup set his jaw, garnering the strength for the end. A few slower, growing notes, and he sang again.

“She's a fairytale, yeah! Even though it hurts…

'Cause I don't care if I lose my mind, I'm already cursed!” 

Astrid had no idea he could sing like that, or even hit that note. It struck her to the core, and she sat breathless and stunned as he played his last battle hymn and ended with a flourish. 

The hall was deafeningly loud with cheers as Hiccup finally, finally opened his eyes to look around. He seemed surprised as he met everyone’s boisterous cheers. 

Dagur launched from his seat and ran to Hiccup, grabbing him in a hug that lifted him off the floor. He laughed maniacally, and Astrid could hear him damn near yell, “that was amazing, brother! The best song I’ve ever heard!” 

Hiccup looked kind of pale, she noticed. 

Once Dagur set him back on his feet, Hiccup used his shoulder to stand upright. 

“Thank you!” He called to the crowd still freaking out. 

“Alright, settle down,” Stoick called, laughter in his voice. 

Once it got quieter, Hiccup said, “thank you, very much. I wasn’t expecting that kind of reception. I uh…I have some more songs for you, but I’m feeling kind of light headed, so I’m going to sit down for a minute.” 

Astrid patted the empty spot beside her, she saved just for him. 

He slid into it, awkwardly smiling. “Hey, how’s it going?” 

“What the hell, Haddock?!” Snotlout shouted. 

“Aww, thanks Snotlout, that means a lot.”

Astrid giggled, and gave Hiccup a pat to the shoulder, the universal ‘I’ll be right back’ sign. She got up and went to get him some water, so he could sit and bask in the praise. 

The band, in Hiccup’s absence, played a reprise of his song, though it sounded really weird without the fiddle. 

Gobber and Hilda belted the lyrics, in an unflattering harmony. 

“I'm in love with a fairytale, even though it hurts,

'Cause I don't care if I lose my mind, I'm already cursed!”

She had been so caught up in the music, in the fact that she was finally hearing Hiccup sing and play, she hadn’t paid attention to the lyrics. It was like they had been in a foreign language.

But now, she understood, and her face turned bright red. 

Determined not to be awkward, she returned to her place with the cup of water for him. 

“Thank you, milady!” He raised the glass with a big smile. His eyes were twinkling in the firelight, and his cheeks flushed a handsome pink. 

“You’re welcome,” she replied, voice a little deeper than intended. 

She sat beside him, their arms occasionally brushing in the cramped space. But Astrid really didn’t mind. In fact, she had half a mind to reach over and hold his hand. 

“I don't know what I was doing, she let me go, we grew apart…

Nowadays, I cannot brave her… 

But when I do, we'll get a brand new start!”

So she didn’t hold his hand. She decided that he needed to make that move. Was it petty after he sang her a love song? Maybe. 

Hiccup finished his water, still smiling as the gang animatedly talked. No one broached the yak in the room, ‘hey Hiccup, who was that song about, huh?’ and that was just fine. 

Once the band finished their butchered version of his song, Hiccup patted her shoulder and got up. “Wish me luck, gang,” he chuckled. 

“You don’t need it,” Ruffnut waved him off. 

“Yeah, but Astrid might,” Tuff smirked. 

Astrid blushed fiercely. “I don’t know…what y-you’re talking about…” She tried to be casual, but couldn’t make eye contact with them. 

“You’re hopeless,” said Heather, fondly. 

“Oh shush!” 

Hiccup had his fiddle in hand, and played a sharp note to get attention. He looked a lot less nervous now, and looked around at everyone. “This next song is older. I started writing it while I was training Toothless, before anyone else knew about dragons, before the Red Death…back then, I practiced a lot of speeches where I tried to convince everyone that we didn’t need to fight them. I never ended up successfully delivering those speeches, but I did write this anyway.” He nodded to Frida, who strummed the lute, starting the song. 

Then Hiccup came in, playing a fast tune again, though it wasn’t as intense as the first. He also didn’t have his eyes closed anymore. He was looking directly at Toothless and slowly walked towards him.   

“I have a dream, you are there, high above the clouds somewhere.

Rain is falling from the sky but it never touches you, you're way up high!” 

Toothless perked up, his tongue lulling out as he stood, making light little steps in time with the beats. The rest of the band joined as Hiccup continued to play and sing at the same time. 

“No more worries no more fear, you have made them disappear,

Sadness tried to steal the show, but now it feels like many years ago!”

Hiccup did a little skip hop to be right in front of Toothless, and sang brightly to him.

“And I! I will be with you every step!” 

The band shouted, “Hey! Hey!” While Hiccup leaned it and rubbed his nose against Toothless’. 

“Tonight I found a friend in you, and I'll keep you close forever!” 

He skip-hopped backwards and sang to the room. 

“Come fly with me!” 

The band echoed, “Ohoohoh Ohoohoh!”

“Into a fantasy!” 

“Ohoohoh Ohoohoh!”

“Where you can be whoever you want to be! Come fly with me!” 

He was on the move again, skipping over to the table and plopping into the spot next to Astrid. He leaned against the table, pretending to be casual, but he looked her dead in the eyes as he sang. 

“We can fly all day long, show me the world, sing me a song,

Tell me what the future holds, you and me will paint it all in gold!” 

Astrid beamed at him, her face hurting from the smile. 

“And I! I will believe your every word!” 

The audience got the prompt and stomped in time “Hey! Hey!” Hiccup leaned in and rubbed his nose against hers, just as he did with Toothless, making her burst into laughter. 

“‘Cause I, I have a friend in you. We'll always stay together!” 

He leapt to his feet, dancing in time with the beat and Toothless’ little prancing. 

“Come fly with me!” 

“Ohoohoh Ohoohoh!”

“Into a fantasy!”

“Ohoohoh Ohoohoh!”

“Where you can be whoever you want to be. Come fly with me!” 

He played his heart out, barely containing his laughter as Toothless did this adorable little steppy-step right along with him. Then Hiccup stopped his dance, though the smile didn’t leave his face. 

“And I…I will be with you every step.” 

His notes were slow, and his voice was soft, like he was making a promise. He swept his gaze across the hall, singing to the village this time.  

“Tonight I found some friends in you, and I keep you close forever!” 

He beckoned with his head, and smiled widely as a few kids from the back ran up and started dancing with Toothless. Hiccup flipped the fiddle to his side and strummed it like a guitar while Hackjaw kept a steady beat.

“Come fly with me, into a fantasy!

Where you can be whoever you want to be!

Come fly with me!” 

He flipped the fiddle back onto his chin to resume playing normally, but beckoned at the teens table with his head. This got the Twins and Snotlout up and dancing with the kids.

“Come fly with me!” 

“Ohoohoh Ohoohoh!”

“Into a fantasy!”

“Ohoohoh Ohoohoh!”

“Where you can be whoever you want to be. Come fly with me!” 

As he came to the end of the song, Snotlout grabbed him by the waist, lifting him off the floor and spinning him around. Hiccup didn’t miss a note though, and only laughed as he was rag dolled around. 

The room broke into cheers when the song ended, and Hiccup gave an exaggerated bow. Toothless mimicked this behavior and bowed his head, making his little ear flaps flip around. 

Astrid’s heart was full and ready to burst from her chest. 

She loved him so much. 

Seeing him so happy, having fun and dancing, it almost made her cry tears of joy. She smiled at him, watching as he cooed at Toothless. Then she turned back to her table mates. Fishlegs, Heather, and Dagur were all looking at her with thinly veiled giddy. 

From behind them, she could see her parents, who were even more enthusiastic. 

She rolled her eyes and covered her face with her hand. 

“Alright,” Hiccup said with an exaggerated sigh. “I guess I’ll give the band a break.” He plopped down on the floor, using Toothless as a backrest. In turn, Toothless curled up and rested his head in Hiccup’s lap. 

People slowly started to calm down, curious about what was happening next. The children that had been dancing sat down around Toothless, leaning on him too. 

That included the Twins, who draped themselves over him. 

“This next song, I wrote that first Snoggletog we had with the dragons. That year, all of the dragons left a few days before, and we had no idea why. Toothless couldn’t fly on his own, so I made him a tail that he could use by himself. He flew off, to where I assumed the other dragons were. 

“I missed him immediately, and started writing this that same day. You may remember that Snoggletog morning when the dragons returned with a boatload of babies.” 

There were some fond ‘aww’s from the crowd. 

“Well, Toothless wasn’t with those Dragons. It was a lonely few days waiting for answers, but when he finally came back, he brought my helmet I had lost at sea. He had spent all that time getting back what I had lost. He gave me a wonderful gift that year, so I gave him this song. It’s his very special song and he demands I sit on the floor like this when I play it.” 

Toothless warbled in confirmation.

“So…here we go…” He said, without further adieu.  

He held the fiddle up to his chin, but instead of using the bow, he plucked at the strings, playing a lullaby. 

Apparently, Toothless knew exactly what song this was, as he let out a warm rumbling purr. 

“It's almost night, I should be sleeping.

But the moon's so bright, as if it's playing with me.

Round and round, I walk in circles aimlessly.

Where could you be?”

The twins, without prompting, started snapping on the beat and rocking side to side.

“The purple skies were so inviting when we used to fly.

But the excitement slowly fades away.

Feels like there's nothing I wanna do.

Not without you.” 

Hiccup leaned his head back, eyes closed and relaxed, as he sang in a falsetto.

“And I will cry you a thousand tears the day you will return.

Tonight I swear, I'll stay right here until you will return.”

Sven picked up his Nyckleharpa, but tapped on it instead, making soft percussion. Hacksaw hit his drum ever so gently with his hand. Frida plucked the same notes on her lute, letting Hiccup go back to his bow.

“And every little cloud, and every single star, reminds me of just how much I miss you. And every little cloud, and every single star, reminds me of just how much I miss you.”

The band crept closer, softly harmonizing as Hiccup played his song. Toothless looked around to them, smiling, as everyone was singing his special song. 

“And I will cry you a thousand tears the day you will return.

Tonight I swear, I'll stay right here until you will return.”

Then Hiccup bowed a gentle waltz, one that might be played at a wedding. A warm, happy melody. Sven harmonized. 

“And I will cry you a thousand tears the day you will return.

Tonight I swear, I'll stay right here until you will return.” 

Slowly, the band faded out until it was just Hiccup plucking those soft notes.

“And every little cloud, and every single star, reminds me of just how much I miss you.” 

Hiccup smiled at Toothless, and just as he took his fingers away from the strings, Toothless warbled a loud ‘wah wah wah!’ that Astrid swore sounded like he was trying to sing. 

“Yeah bud! Every little cloud!”

“Wah wah wah!” 

“And every single star.” He chuckled.

Most people were too busy cooing to applaud. Astrid included. She held her hands over her heart, feeling all those warm and fuzzy un-viking feelings in her chest. 

She heard a loud sniff, and turned to see Dagur, Snotlout, and Fishlegs crying. Fishlegs just had tears, Snotlout was weeping openly, and Dagur was bawling uncontrollably. 

“That was beautiful,” Dagur whimpered. “He has the most beautiful soul.” 

Heather, who was only a little misty-eyed, looked at Astrid and rolled her eyes. “Boys.” 

Astrid chuckled, wiping a tear from her eye before joining in the remainder of the applause. 

“Alright, I’ve heard enough,” said Hamish, standing without the use of his cane. His face was serious, and solemn. 

“Wh-what? Did I–did I do something wrong!?” Hiccup struggled to stand with the fiddle still in hand. “If you didn’t like those, I can play something traditional! I just thought—”

Hamish held up a hand to stop him. “Hiccup. You…are a damn fine fiddler.” 

Hiccup relaxed slightly. “So then—” 

“It's time for your final test.” 

Hiccup stared, wide-eyed. “Really? You think I’m that good?” 

“Fiddler on the Roof!” Tuffnut yelled. 

“Is this not a good enough final test!?” Snotlout yelled a beat after. 

Hamish moved his cloak aside. “It’s time for you and I to do battle. As master and apprentice.” From under his cloak, he withdrew his own wooden case, and his own fiddle. 

Hiccup gulped. 

Hamish smiled, good naturedly. He brandished the shiny black instrument. “I’ll hold you to that last song, but now, we play Shades.” 

“Shades!?” Hiccup yelled. “Are you—are you sure?” 

“You are ready, my boy. Hagar, will you join us on vocals?” 

Hagar laughed. “You’re roping me into this too?” But he stood anyway. 

“What’s Shades?” Astrid asked Fishlegs. 

“Don’t look at me! I don’t know anything about this kind of music!” 

It seemed that Hamish heard her question and answered, “Shades is a piece written by my mentor. It’s difficult, but the perfect piece to test my students with. The difficulty lies in performing it with two fiddles.”

Hiccup nodded in agreement. “But I’m willing to try.” 

Hamish smiled at him. “That’s a good lad! You’ll take the high part.” He pulled a long note off his strings. Then he turned to the band and told them, “A Minor.” 

Then he and Hiccup took a stance, staring at each other. A breath passed, then two.

In a blink, they started playing a frantic gallop in time. The notes started rising, climbing an invisible ladder through the air. Always harmonizing, never falling out of sync. Hackjaw was the only one that joined in, playing a syncopated beat on the drum. Then the fiddles both calmed down to a whisper, and Hagar sang. 

“In a forest without any trees, where feelings and memories superimposed by an image of you are caught on the morning dew.” 

A duel, trading notes back and forth, taking over each other’s parts. 

“Swim in a lake at the first light of day, where children and swans go to play right in the wake of your perfect body and sing of unity.”

Right at the last line, they jumped it, keeping strides with each other. Like running a race, but they were matching each step for step. Hiccup kept his eyes locked with Hamish, watching his hands as he played.

“A Shiv’ring garden where willows grow tall, their shadows caught on a wall.

The sound of weeping so soft in the breeze, a bustle of falling leaves.” 

Soft notes, punctuating each line, soft swells, not distracting, just accenting. Matching tone, volume, intensity. 

Astrid was riveted. She didn’t know much about fiddling, much less any music, but performing like this without practicing together had to be very hard. Impossible even. 

“A night has many shades. It can last for many days and hurt in many ways, 

like the force of a rising tide when the moon floats by.”  

The song seemed to come to an end. Slow, drawn out notes that seemed to gently set everyone down from the heights they had been climbing. 

But then Hamish pulled a triplet, a quick back and forth of the bow. Hiccup returned it. Hamish did it back. Then Hiccup began his sprinting note, and Hamish was right there, meeting it in speed. They grew louder and louder, changing pitch, changing tempos, hitting notes at a dizzying speed of variation. Each one had to be perfect. 

Hiccup’s eyes widened as a grin began to tug at his lips. This was the final sprint, this was it! 

They played that final climb, hitting a high note and jumping off the ladder into silence. 

They both stared at each other, panting, before breaking out into laughter. 

“Did I actually do it!?” Hiccup laughed breathlessly. 

“Aye lad! Every single note! You’ve been practicing, don’t lie!” 

“Of course I have! Ever since I fumbled when I was a kid, it haunted me. I didn’t think I had it down yet though!” 

“Oh, you’ve done an old viking proud, you know. I’m thinking of taking on more students now that I’m retired from chiefing. It’ll give me something good to do! I might call on you to show ‘em how to do it right.” 

“Oh, I don’t know if I can do it like that again.” 

“Sure you can! And next time, it’ll be even better.” 

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, Hamish.” 

For the third time that evening, Hiccup was picked up in a hug and lifted off the floor. “The boy has passed! I can teach him no more!” 

The assembled cheered, not all comprehending what exactly had happened, but happy for Hiccup all the same. 

Hamish set him back on his feet. “Alright lad, your old man said you got one more song for me. About a girl?” 

Hiccup’s face went bright red and he put his free hand to his cheek. “Oh gods…he sure promised you that, huh?” 

“Darn tootin’! I’ve enjoyed the rest! I’m sure this will be great!” Then he put an arm around him and spoke to him so softly no one else could hear. Hiccup responded just as quiet, before Hamish burst out laughing. He gave the boy a punch to the shoulder, and exclaimed, “go get her, boy-o~!” 

Hiccup gulped, and straightened his clothes nervously. 

“We’re doing the last one now, lad?” Gobber asked, grinning. 

“Uh oh! Is this the one?!” Stoick barked, standing from his seat. 

“Sit down, dad!” Hiccup shouted back, face as red as can be. “Gods preserve me.” He looked back at the band, making sure they were all ready to go. Then he spoke up to the room. “This is my last song for you this evening. I hope you all have enjoyed this little…uh, concert? It was certainly not expected. But your warm reception is appreciated!” 

“Whooo! Go Hiccup!” Tuffnut screamed.

He released an awkward laugh. “Yeah, thanks…um.” He brought the fiddle up to rest on his shoulder. “This song…I wrote a really long time ago. Before I met Toothless even. It’s uh…it’s still true though…” he trailed off. He nodded to the band, getting a beat. 

Instead of instruments, they all clapped in time, before Hiccup started singing, his face still a bright red. 

“This feeling lasted,

I love you, Astrid!

You're so much stronger than me,

But I don't mind!” 

Astrid’s jaw dropped, her own face going as red as his. Hiccup began playing a jaunty tune, making Toothless pop to his feet and start dancing again. 

“Never mind what the others say, deep inside I'm quite okay.

I may have messed up once or twice, but I really need you!” 

He dared to look at her.

“And it's not like I'm the only guy. Oh, I know how you make them cry.

So let's start by being friends and let this friendship never end.

I knew you years ago. What I want, I don't know. But let’s just say it's love!” 

Playing the fiddle and having Toothless prancing around gave Hiccup a lot of confidence. That, or just getting those first words out was the hardest part. But now, he was smiling, and hop-skipping around while he played. 

“This feeling lasted, I love you, Astrid!

You're so much stronger than me, but I don't mind! 

Don't say maybe, just be my lady!

No need to hesitate 'cause you'll be fine!”

Hiccup could, on occasion, be extremely corny. Even now, when he was just playing, he had this faux bashful smile on his face, like he had no clue what he was doing to her. The blush seemed genuine enough. 

“So tell me what I want to hear,

No wait, let's just leave it there.

You know I'm not good for you!

Gods, I don't know what to do!”

Stoick had said he sang this song with passion, and he was right! Hiccup belted out the words, like he was making a grand proclamation. 

“I liked you from the start!

You melt my icy heart!

And now it's burning hot!”

In retrospect, she always knew he was a performer. He’d always had a streak of the dramatic. Like when he tried to tame the Nightmare during his final exam. Or whenever he revealed one of his inventions. If he was going to do something, it was going to be a grand spectacle. Why was this any different? 

“This feeling lasted, I love you, Astrid!

You're so much stronger than me, but I don't mind!

Don't say maybe, just be my lady

No need to hesitate 'Cause you'll be fine!”

He got down on one knee in front of her, looking up at her with big glistening eyes that would put Toothless to shame. 

“Don't go away, you're what's left of me!

I once believed you would save my soul.

But if you saw me now crying secretly,

Would you hold my hand and never let it go?”

He flipped the fiddle to his side and strummed it like a guitar. His voice became softer, tender. Now just singing to her, and no one else. 

“This feeling lasted, I love you, Astrid!

You're so much stronger than me, but I don't mind!

Don't say maybe, just be my lady!

No need to hesitate 'Cause you'll be fine!”

He popped back up onto his feet, and threw his head back, making his grand declaration into the room. 

“Do you hear me, Astrid?

I still love you, Astrid!

I’m getting stronger now, hope you don’t mind!

Don't say maybe, just be my lady

Your parents are bugging me, knowing you'll be fine!”

I love you, Astrid! How long had she waited to hear those words from him? Too long, it seemed. But this seemed worth the wait. 

All there was left to do was wait for him to move that damn fiddle out of the way. 

He finished his song, flushed but smiling as he gave her a little shrug. 

Astrid bolted from her seat, flung her arms around his neck, and kissed him hotly on the lips. In a way she had been wanting to for years, but hadn’t quite had the nerve to do like when she was younger. 

She was still able to hear him squeak despite the cacophony that filled the large room. 

Shouts of “finally!” And “you owe me ten gold” were totally drowned out in the absolute satisfaction she felt, finally kissing Hiccup. 

Someone must have taken his fiddle for him as she felt his arms wrap around her and pull her tight. 

Finally, she pulled away, a little winded. His face was priceless. He was dazed, but had this awed and lovestruck smile on his lips. 

She played with his hair, then declared, “I don’t know much about music, but…

“Ooh Hiccup, I love you Hiccup! 

You’re such a dork, you see? 

But I don’t mind! 

Won’t say maybe, I’ll be your lady! 

I know you’ll take care of me, and I’ll be fine!”

He smiled broadly and pulled her in for another kiss. 

“What a way to end a concert!” Hamish yelled from his table. “Way to go, lad!” 

“I owe you a thank you, Hamish. I never would have done this if you hadn’t requested it.” 

“Anytime, my boy! Always happy to help!” 

—

The Shivering Shores stayed for three days, and in that time, Hiccup spent some time with Hamish, teaching him his songs. He played with the band during dinners, and over all, didn’t seem as secretive as he had been the last week. Everyone knew now, and he accepted that he was good. He was no longer hesitant, but actually allowed himself to show off.

When it was time to return to the Edge, Astrid spied the wooden case among his baggage. 

“You’re taking it with you?” 

“Might as well, might help me think while I’m planning on how to deal with the hunters. It’s helped in the past.” 

“Are you going to give us something to listen to on the way back?” Asked Snotlout. “Gods forbid I have to listen to the Twins bicker for another 8 hours!” 

“You want me to fly and play at the same time?” 

“Oh like Toothless isn’t doing most of the work!” 

Hiccup couldn’t argue with that.

Once they were up in the air and on their way, Hiccup made a great show out of taking out the fiddle and tuning it. Agonizing over each note. 

“We know it’s tuned! You’ve been playing it all weekend! It’s tuned!” Snotlout shouted. 

Hiccup snorted. “Alright alright, let’s see…” He drew a long note out and sang. 

“Ohhhh I got my ax and I got my mace and I love my wife with the ugly face, I’m a viking through and through!!”

And he was promptly relieved of entertainment duties. 

—-

A week later, things were back to normal. The twins had done a number on the Edge, and repairs and restocks were needed. 

Hiccup and Astrid were up to their necks with duties, busy with work and barely could find a moment to relax, let alone have some time together. 

It was late one night when Astrid laid in bed, exhausted but unable to sleep. She kept going over her lists in her mind, making sure she hadn’t missed anything. 

The silence of the night was interrupted by the soft trill of a fiddle. No particular song, just notes floating around. Fast, slow, but mostly quiet. 

Hiccup was also awake and thinking. 

She got up and wandered over to his hut. His door was open, and he paced back and forth, with the fiddle on his shoulder. He was obviously talking to himself, but it was quiet and muffled by the music. 

“Babe?” She asked, just loud enough.

He jolted. “Astrid! Oh! I didn’t wake you, did I? I’m sorry, I knew I shouldn’t have—“ he went to put the instrument away, but Astrid reached out and stopped him. “No, you didn’t wake me. I was already up. And it was so quiet I probably wouldn't have heard it if I was asleep.” 

He sighed in relief. 

“Then what’s up?” 

“Well, I could tell you were awake, and…I wanted to see you.” 

His face colored. “Yeah?” 

“Hmmhmm. You don’t have to stop what you’re doing. I kinda like the idea of my own private performance.” 

He shyly smiled, then put the fiddle back on his shoulder. 

—

Fishlegs had night patrol. He opted to take Meatlug out for a relaxing flight around the island. He saw Astrid sneak over to Hiccup’s hut, but didn’t say anything. It wasn’t his business. He heard Hiccup playing the fiddle, a lovely little melody. 

Then he heard a sharp, off key note, followed by silence. 

He may be on patrol, but he had a feeling they didn’t want him to investigate. 

------

One time in Highschool, we had a talent show. Know that I went to a very tiny private school, and everyone knew everyone (20 people in my grade). There was this guy in my class, Kevin, who was pretty stoic and quiet. For the talent show, he rode a unicycle while juggling and telling jokes. No one knew he could do that. Even the kids that knew him from Kindergarten. 

Songs: Seasoned Oak - King Arthur and the Legend of the Sword

Fairytale - Alexander Rybak

Into a Fantasy - Alexander Rybak

Return (For Toothless) - Alexander Rybak

Shades- Árstídir

OAH- Alexander Rybak (heavily rewritten, and I actually prefer the strings of the Russian version ‘Strela Amura’ better.)

[lemotmo]

911 8x08 thoughts and freak outs!

Okay…

Well…

WOW…

OMG!!!

What do I say about this episode? 😶

Uhm…

Well, my first reaction was this: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH! 🤣🤣🤣

And I mean this in a very good way! 😏

I’m just going to start with the thing that made me go AAAAAH! In the first place:

Eddie and Chris! That scene was heartbreaking and when Brad talked to ‘Edmundo’ about his estranged son it was a great moment. Eddie has started to realise he has to act NOW, because he son is growing up without him and he doesn’t want that gap to become any wider. 😭

Side-note: Fuck the Diaz parents big time! They suck! 😠

So Eddie decides to move to Texas, which is so very much the wrong thing to do. But I get why he’s considering it. The right thing to do for him would be to go to Texas, talk to Chris and telling him he needs to come home, back to LA. But I don’t think Eddie is ready for that yet. He’ll need some time to get there, but he’ll get there in the end.

Which leads me to that one scene with Buck. And OMG! In the seven years that I’ve been here, shipping Buddie, I’ve seen a lot scenes between them that suggested something more, but it was never really anything concrete… you know? 🤷‍♀️

This scene? It was like being hit over the head with a sledgehammer. Buck just walks into Eddie’s house and Eddie’s okay with that. He’s teasing him about the tablet and Eddie lets him. They know each other through and through. And Buck’s face when Eddie told him it was in El Paso? That was interesting. And of course he wants to help Eddie. It almost feels like they’re buying a house together for a moment there. But then…

Then when Buck’s sitting on the Diaz couch (yes… hello couch theory, great to see you again! 😂), his face falls and there is something there that wasn’t there before. Guys… we just witnessed the very early beginnings of Buck’s ‘OH’ moment. Eddie making plans to move will help Buck realise just how much he truly cares for Eddie. 🥲🥲🥲

So, this is it. This is THAT scene we’ve all been hoping for.

I feel unwell.

In a good way.

The Buddie-arc has officially begun. 😋🌈😁☀️

So unwell right now.

Still in a good way.

But oh… this is going to be such a good hiatus! That scene alone will inspire so many writers to write excellent fic, it will fuel us for months and ignite the fandom to speculate and theorise. It’ll be epic! 😎

I wonder if there’ll actually be a time-jump or they’ll just pick up where they left off after hiatus. 🤔

On to the rest of the episode:

Where was the Maddie storyline they talked about?

Athena’s storyline was actually nice this time. It is entirely possible that something flew over my head when it comes to her scenes as a police officer. But to my non-American eyes, it was a nice storyline. The cart cop kid was a little naive, but he was likeable I suppose. I don’t really enjoy watching people like that on YouTube, but for the show it was okay.

I unexpectedly really enjoyed the Brad storyline. Granted, him rescuing that woman and risking hurting her? That was iffy, but 911 is like HotShots in that respect, you know? We aren’t supposed to take it all ‘that’ seriously. So I can live with that scene. I love the growth in Brad and how he talked that guy from the ledge. Do we think that scene was based on the fact that Jon Bon Jovi talked someone from the ledge a couple of months ago? I think that’s where Tim got his inspiration for this.

So overall, I really enjoyed this episode and I have to admit that I didn’t really expect too much of it. But it managed to surprise me in a few ways. But mostly that Buddie-moment… it just blew my mind. 🤯

I can happily skip into hiatus now. All is right with my fictional TV-show world again.

😎😎😎

I'm off to read the post interviews now and answer some asks in my inbox. YAY!