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knight-hiccup · 20 days ago

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𝐌𝐀𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐌 | Hiccup x Fem!Reader ₆

This is Chapter 6 to this Hiccup series -> Masterlist here. Previous Chapter : Next Chapter

Pairing: Hiccup x fem!reader Genre: romance, fantasy, suspense, drama, angst, dark, vioIence, friends to lovers, dark themes, heavy Viking lore, Norse mythology, canon divergence, slow burn Word count: 13.3k Warnings: This will have the lore of the films + shows but with much darker themes. Gore/blood, mentions of death, Norse mythology, some realistic dragon themes, more realistic scenarios, and mature themes starting at the point httyd 2 ark comes in, so, ofc NSFW. Any other warnings will be properly tagged upon story progression. A/N: Reader description not described besides clothing true to Viking/httyd fashion from time to time.

CHAPTER 6

The lookout tower stood like a sentinel above Berk, its weathered silhouette rising stark against the bruised purple of the evening sky. The village homes sprawled below, their dark outlines softened by the fading light, while the tower's rough-hewn stair planks groaned and creaked under your boots as you climbed.

Gobber was ahead, his heavy steps thudding with purpose, his hammer-hand swinging at his side. At the top, Hiccup's lanky frame was already sprawled beside the fire pit, one leg stretched out lazily as he poked at the glowing embers with a stick. The flames caught in his auburn hair, casting a warm, flickering glow across his sharp features as he glanced up, a spark of curiosity in his green eyes.

The wind up here was a soft howl, curling around the tower and tugging at the edges of your tunic with invisible fingers. It carried the faint, briny tang of the sea, mingling with the sharp snap of the fire as its heat reached out to lick at your chilled hands. You dropped onto a log beside Gobber, the wood rough against your legs, and the three of you settled into a loose circle.

Below, Berk glittered in the dusk, its torchlights flickering like stars swallowed by the encroaching night. The warmth of the fire seeped into your bones, chasing away the day's lingering aches, and for a moment, the world felt still—save for the crackle of the flames and the distant murmur of the village winding down.

Hiccup broke the quiet first, his grin flashing quick and bright as he leaned forward, elbows digging into his knees. His eyes darted between you and Gobber, still buzzing with the restless energy of the day's Gronckle chaos.

"Alright, I missed her trial—spill it, what happened? She won't give me details," he demanded, his voice edged with impatience as he jerked his chin toward you.

You shifted on the log, feeling the faint itch of the still healing Nadder scar beneath your sleeve, a quiet reminder of the morning's madness. Gobber barked a laugh, the sound rough and booming, his stump thudding against the log as he adjusted his bulk. His weathered face split into a proud, toothy grin, the firelight dancing across the deep lines etched there.

"Aye, ye should've seen it, lad—she kept rollin' and dodgin' that beast till it wheezed and finally flopped over, belly up like a bloated fish!" he roared, his hammer-hand slashing through the air in broad, dramatic arcs as he mimed your every duck and weave.

His voice thickened with relish, savoring the retelling, and you couldn't help the small, tight smile that tugged at your lips. You shrugged it off, brushing your hands together as if to shake away the attention.

"It's nothing, though—" you started, redirecting the focus with a quick nod toward Hiccup.

"Hiccup took it out in seconds. That was incredible." Your tone stayed steady, but there was a quiet pride laced beneath it, one you couldn't quite bury.

Hiccup ducked his head, a flush creeping up his neck as the firelight caught the faint pink in his cheeks. Gobber wasn't letting it go, though—his laugh rumbled deeper, a gravelly quake as he clapped Hiccup's shoulder hard enough to jostle him forward.

"Aye, I've never seen that in me life! Dropped that Gronckle like a sack o' spuds!" he crowed, then turned to you, his eyes softening, the edges crinkling with something warm.

"Both o' ye made me real proud today—I couldn't be prouder o' how far ye've come, ye scrappy wee double-team misfits." The words hit like a weight, sinking into the cracks the day had carved out, and you caught Hiccup's gaze across the fire.

His grin softened too, a flicker of shared history passing between you—late nights in the forge, the secrets behind his wild tactics—all unspoken but thrumming in the quiet space you shared.

Gobber tossed another log onto the pile, sending a burst of sparks spiraling into the night as he launched into a dozen new tales from his own trial days. "Took a Monstrous Nightmare's tail to the face, I did, and still swung me axe!" he bellowed, his voice a gravelly roar that rolled over the wind.

You doubled over, laughter tearing from your chest, hands clutching your ribs as the absurd image took root in your mind.

Hiccup snorted dryly, leaning close to mutter, "More like the Nightmare thought it was shooing a gnat." His words were quick and low, barely cutting through the fire's snap, but Gobber caught them.

His good hand swung out, clipping Hiccup's shoulder in a mock cuff, his weathered face creasing with a wide, unrepentant grin. The night stretched on like that—stories piling atop one another, each more outrageous than the last. Hiccup threw himself into his recounting, arms and shoulders carving the air in exaggerated sweeps as he spun his version of the day's chaos, peppered with embellishments you could spot from a mile off.

When asked, you cut in, voice calm but firm, detailing the Gronckle's lava blast—the heat licking so close it left a faint char on your boot leather. Gobber's cackle wove through it all, a deep, jagged sound that echoed into the air, his broad chest swelling with pride as he watched you and Hiccup trade barbs and memories, the firelight painting long shadows across his gleaming, weathered face and smiling eyes.

The next morning came swiftly, the taste of fresh fruits—sweet and sharp—still clinging to your tongue as you finished breakfast. You joined the others, your boots scuffing the dirt as you trudged toward the arena for another Nadder trial. The early light spilled across Berk's uneven sprawl, casting long, familiar, jagged shadows that stretched over the rocky ground.

The air buzzed with a restless energy as you reached the arena, the clash erupting almost the moment you were all in position. Gobber's voice rang out, sharp and commanding—strike hard, stay sharp, don't falter—and you felt your grip tighten around the leather strap of your shield as the gate rattled open with a groan.

The Nadder exploded into view, a vivid blaze of color against the drab stone walls. Its scales shimmered in sharp blues and golds, catching the morning sun as it lunged forward, spines bristling. Astrid was on it in a heartbeat, her movements a honed blur as she charged with lethal precision.

Her axe arced high, glinting as it poised to cleave through the thick muscle of the dragon's neck, the air thrumming with the force of her intent. The Nadder reared to meet her, its talons gouging the stone—until Hiccup outpaced her. He stood unmoving—gently dropping his chosen weapon to the ground as the beast charged at him head on.

With a trick he'd honed with Toothless the day before, he scratched the dragon under its chin, out of sight from the others. The Nadder froze, then slumped into a sudden stupor, its vivid frame collapsing before it could lash out again. It hit the ground at Hiccup's feet, limbs loose, breath shallow—almost relaxed—its fall so perfectly timed that Astrid's blade halted just shy of its scaled throat, the air still vibrating from her swing.

You were right there near him when it happened, the two of you locking eyes as identical wide grins split your faces. The thrill of it surged through you, electric and wild, and you tilted your head toward him, nodding in pure, unrestrained delight. The arena pulsed with anticipation, the crowd's cheers swelling until the gates creaked open once more.

A flood of people poured through—children scrambling forward, warriors clapping, onlookers shouting—their voices rising in a chaotic roar. They swarmed Hiccup, encircling him, their hands slapping his shoulders, their words tumbling over one another in a frantic bid to be heard, all woven with admiration for his feat. You hung back at the crowd's edge, watching, their praise a living thing that drowned out the quieter sounds of the morning.

The day rolled on, the scene shifting in your mind as the sun climbed higher. After the arena's chaos faded, you found yourself wandering Berk's winding paths, the salty breeze tugging at your hair and cooling the sweat on your skin. You'd caught Hiccup's eye earlier, a silent pact passing between you—no words, just a flicker of understanding in his glance.

Later, when the village settled into its usual clamor of Hooligan life—shouts, clanging hammers, the distant bellow of dragons—you became his conspirator. With a quick check over your shoulder to ensure no one was watching, you helped him slip away from Berk's prying eyes. Together, you wove through the familiar maze of wooden houses and rocky outcrops, your footsteps soft against the earth as you guided him toward the forest's edge.

The trees loomed as you reached the outskirts, their gnarled branches tangling overhead to form a canopy that dappled the ground with shifting light. You paused there, shooting him a knowing look before stepping back to stand guard. He vanished into the undergrowth, his lanky frame swallowed by the green as he headed for the secluded spot where Toothless waited, the wilderness low croon drifting faintly through the leaves.

You lingered behind, leaning against a tree trunk, your senses sharp for any rustle or shout from approaching villagers. You'd promised to cover for him, to give him a break from the constant eyes and expectations, and you were ready—armed with a quick lie about an errand or a chore if anyone asked.

The forest stretched out before you, alive with the chirps of birds and the snap of twigs, and as Hiccup disappeared to train with Toothless in peace, you turned back toward home, the weight of the day settling into something steady and sure.

The Great Hall was alive with its usual clamor in the night, a sprawling cavern of noise and warmth carved out of Berk's heart. The grand tables stretched long and wide beneath the vaulted stone ceiling, their scarred wooden surfaces gleaming faintly under the flickering light of the iron chandeliers overhead and the surrounding hearths.

The air thrummed with the low roar of voices—Vikings swapping tales, clinking mugs, and barking laughter that echoed off the stone walls. You sat alone at one of the tables near the center, your usual spot, legs dangling off the bench as you traced a finger along a groove in the wood.

The seat beside you was empty, saved as always for Hiccup—another quiet ritual between you, unspoken but understood. Your eyes flicked toward the heavy doors every so often, waiting for that familiar lanky figure to slip through.

The doors creaked open at last, and there he was—Hiccup, his auburn hair a little wild from the wind, his green eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. A quick grin tugged at his lips, and he wove through the chaos, dodging a burly Viking hefting a tray of roast and sidestepping a spilled mug of mead.

You shifted slightly, making room as he reached the table and dropped onto the bench beside you with a small, relieved huff. "Saved me a spot again, huh?" he said, his voice light but carrying that dry edge you knew so well. You smirked, nudging him with your elbow.

"Someone's gotta keep you from standing in a corner all night."

Before he could fire back, the air shifted—boots scuffed the floor, and a shadow loomed as Snotlout plopped down on Hiccup's other side with a loud thud, his broad frame jostling the table.

"Well, well, if it ain't the dragon tamer himself!" he crowed, clapping Hiccup's shoulder hard enough to make him wince.

You barely had time to laugh before the others descended like a storm. Fishlegs shuffled in, his round face flushed with excitement as he clutched a battered notebook, already rambling about Hiccups arena achievements. Tuffnut and Ruffnut barreled over next, shoving each other with Tuffnut simply running across his own table as they claimed spots across from Hiccup, their elbows—and feet—knocking mugs aside.

A handful of other teens—some you knew, some you didn't—swarmed in too, along with a few older Vikings, their voices rising in a chaotic tangle of questions and boasts about Hiccup's latest stunt.

You leaned back, watching the tide roll in, when one of the teens—a wiry kid with a mop of blond hair—pushed forward, her shoulder slamming into yours without a glance. The force sent you sliding off the bench, your hands shooting out behind you to catch yourself. Your palms hit the cold stone floor, keeping your head from smacking the edge of the table as you landed with a muffled grunt.

The kid didn't notice, already scrambling into your spot beside Hiccup, her voice loud and eager as she jabbered about dragon training in a flirtatious way. The crowd tightened around Hiccup, a wall of bodies and noise, their hands clapping his back, their words tripping over each other in a frenzy of admiration.

You sat there for a beat, palms pressed to the floor, legs splayed out as you blinked up at the mess. Hiccup's head poked out from the throng, his eyes wide and darting toward you, a flicker of panic crossing his face as he mouthed something—maybe an apology, maybe your name—but it was swallowed by the din.

You didn't wait to figure it out. Crawling backward, you slid out from under the tangle of boots and elbows, the rough stone scraping your knees as you pulled yourself free of the chaos. The crowd didn't part, didn't even notice, too busy pressing in around a very overwhelmed Hiccup, whose hands flailed faintly as he tried to answer three questions at once.

But you weren't mad—no heat flared in your chest; no scowl twisted your face. Instead, a snort bubbled up, sharp and involuntary, and you clapped a hand over your mouth to stifle it as you rose to your feet. Brushing the dust off your tunic, you glanced back at Hiccup—his lanky frame half-buried under the mob, his expression a mix of nerves and resignation—and another laugh slipped out, muffled against your palm.

Shaking your head, you turned toward the far end of the hall, weaving through the scattered Vikings and trays of half-eaten food. The kitchen loomed ahead, its wide archway spilling out the warm scent of bread and stew, and you slipped inside without a backward glance.

The noise of the hall dulled as the kitchen's heat wrapped around you, the clatter of pots and the low hum of the cooks taking over. You snagged a wooden spoon from a rack and stepped toward the hearth, where a pot of something savory bubbled away.

Hiccup would survive out there—he always did, even if he'd be a jittery mess by the end of it. For now, you'd leave him to his admirers, a faint smirk tugging at your lips as you stirred the stew, the steam rising to meet you. Let them fawn over him; you'd catch up later.

The night had deepened over Berk after you had gone home. The sky a thick quilt of stars pricked against the black that shown the unknown—almost as if Asgard was in reach. You were sprawled by the hearth in your small home, the fire's glow painting the rough wooden walls in soft oranges and golds.

The warmth seeped into the floorboards beneath you, chasing off the evening chill as you poked at the embers with a stick, coaxing a few more sparks to life. The village outside had quieted, the distant clatter of the Great Hall fading into a low hum, when a soft knock rattled your back door. You tilted your head, brow furrowing, and hauled yourself up, brushing soot off your hands as you crossed the room.

Peeking through the crack, you spotted Hiccup—his lanky frame hunched slightly, hands stuffed into his gilet like he wasn't sure what to do with them. His auburn hair was a mess, windswept from who-knows-what, and his green eyes flicked up to meet yours as you swung the door wide.

"Hey," he started, voice a little sheepish, "I, uh—just wanted to say sorry. For earlier. You know, the whole. . .table thing." He gestured vaguely, like he could mime the chaos of the Great Hall into existence.

You snorted, leaning against the door frame with a lopsided grin, waving him off before he could ramble himself into a knot. "Forget it, Hiccup. I'm fine—floor's not so bad once you get used to it."

You stepped back, jerking your head toward the hearth. "Come in already, it's freezing. How'd the flight test go with Toothless? You've got that look—like you either crashed into something or figured out how to fly upside down."

He ducked inside, a small laugh slipping out as he trailed you to the fire. "No crashes this time, promise. Went better than I thought, actually."

He dropped onto the floor beside you, stretching his legs out as the warmth curled around you both. "We tweaked the tail fin again—got a smoother turn out of it. He's fast, too. Like, really fast. I think he's showing off half the time."

His eyes lit up, hands gesturing in quick, excited arcs as he talked, and you couldn't help but smile at the way he came alive, the nervous edge melting off him.

"Showing off, huh? Sounds like someone else I know," you say, nudging his boot with yours. He shot you a mock glare, but the corner of his mouth twitched up, betraying him. "Yeah, well, he's got the wings for it. I'm just along for the ride."

He leaned back on his hands, the firelight catching the faint freckles dusting his cheeks. "You should've seen him—he's learning quick. Few mistakes were made so I need to add a few more things to the straps. Nearly lost my stomach a few times, but it was. . .I dunno, amazing."

"Amazing," you echoed, softer, resting your chin on your knees as you watched him. "You're getting good at this, Hiccup. Toothless is lucky to have you." He blinked at you, caught off guard, and a flush crept up his neck, pink against the glow.

"I—uh, thanks," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his head. "He's the real star, though."

The conversation drifted from there, easy and quiet—bits about the wind, the way Toothless warbled when he was pleased, a dumb joke about Tuffnut tripping over his own spear earlier. The fire crackled lower, its warmth pulling at your eyelids, and you didn't notice when your words started to slur, or when Hiccup's voice softened into a hum.

Your shoulder brushed his as you both sank lower, the floorboards cradling you like an old friend. Before long, the steady rhythm of the hearth lulled you both under, your breathing syncing as you drifted offside by side.

Hiccup stirred first, the faint gray of pre-dawn creeping through the window cracks. His eyes fluttered open, groggy, and he froze as the world came into focus. You were close—really close—your head tilted toward him, one arm tucked under your cheek, the other resting near his hand. Your face was soft in sleep, lips parted slightly, and a strand of hair had fallen across your cheek to your nose, fluttering with each breath. The fire had dulled to embers, but the warmth still lingered, wrapping you both in its fading embrace.

His heart did a hard flip, heat rushing to his face so fast he was sure it'd wake you up. Red crept from his ears to his cheeks, a blazing flush he couldn't stop, and he swallowed hard, barely daring to move. You looked. . .peaceful. Too peaceful to disturb.

His gaze darted around, landing on the bear skin draped over a nearby stool—thick and shaggy, one of Gobber's old hunting trophies. Careful not to jostle you, he reached for it, his fingers fumbling as he tugged it free. He draped it over you, tucking it gently around your shoulders, the fur swallowing you in a cozy heap. You shifted slightly, a small hum escaping, but didn't wake, and Hiccup let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

He sat there a moment longer, knees pulled up, watching the way the dawn light brushed your face. A dumb, lopsided smile tugged at his lips—soft and unguarded, the kind he'd never let anyone catch. Then, with a quiet creak, he pushed himself up, brushing off his tunic.

Toothless was waiting at the cove, and the next match against the Terrible Terror loomed just hours away. He slipped out the door, casting one last glance back at you—curled up under the bear skin, warm and safe—and his grin widened just a little before he headed into the cool morning air, already itching to take to the sky again.

A few hours had passed since the quiet warmth of your hearth, and now you stood near the center of the training grounds, the caked dirt beneath your boots packed hard from countless scuffles. Gobber was beside you, his broad frame leaning on his hammer-hand as he grumbled under his breath, his eye narrowed at something in the distance.

The others—Astrid, Snotlout, Fishlegs, Tuffnut, and Ruffnut—were scattered around the arena, half-dazed from the early hour. Astrid was sharpening her axe with slow, methodical strokes, focused. Snotlout sprawled against a barrel, snoring faintly, while Fishlegs mumbled dragon facts in a doze nodding off, his notebook slipping from his lap. The twins were off in a corner, lazily tossing a rock back and forth, their laughter muted and sluggish.

You crossed your arms, eyebrow quirked as you nudged Gobber with your elbow. "Alright, out with it—what's got you muttering like a cranky old goat? You've been pacing around for ten minutes making us wait."

He huffed, his long mustache bristling as he shot you a sidelong glare, but there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth that betrayed him. "Oi, watch it, lass—I've fought dragons bigger'n yer head with less lip," he shot back, his voice a low growl.

You grinned wider, undeterred. "Yeah, and I've dodged Nadders faster than you can swing that thing. Come on, Gobber, spit it out already."

He shifted his weight, the stump of his leg thudding against the ground as he glanced around, making sure the others were too out of it to eavesdrop. "Yer gonna make me say it, aren't ye?" he muttered, rubbing his good hand over his face.

You leaned in, eyes glinting with mischief. "Yep. You're squirming like a worm on a hook—just tell me."

He groaned, then finally bent closer, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. "One o' the Terrible Terrors—it's gone. Slipped right outta the cage somehow. Thing's probably scamperin' around the Berk right now, and I'm supposed to be runnin' this blasted match!"

His tone was thick with exasperation, his brow creasing deep as he waved his hammer-hand toward the rows of locked pens.

You blinked, then bit back a laugh, straightening up as the weight of it sank in. "What, seriously? One of those little menaces got loose?"

Gobber's scowl deepened, his good hand jabbing the air. "Aye, and don't ye dare laugh, ye wee troublemaker—it's upsettin' me whole plan!" Before you could tease him further, a breathless huff cut through the air, and Hiccup stumbled into view, panting as he skidded to a stop beside Gobber.

His hair was a wild tangle, his cheeks flushed from running, and he bent over, hands on his knees, gulping air. "Sorry—sorry. Sorry. I'm late. Too—I—I. . .too-k a detour. . .over the cliffs—," he managed between breaths, shooting you a quick, sheepish grin with wide eyes as he almost said Toothless aloud.

You snorted, shaking your head, then turned back to Gobber, resting a hand on his arm. "Hey, it's fine, alright? The three of us'll handle it later—me, Hiccup, and you. We'll track down that sneaky little Terror before it chews through half the village."

You kept your tone light, reassuring, and Gobber's shoulders slumped slightly, though his grumble didn't quite fade. "Aye, ye'd better. I'm not explainin' this to Stoick if it sets fire to somethin'."

Hiccup straightened, catching his breath, and quirked a brow at you. "Wait, what'd I miss? What's loose?" You smirked, leaning closer to him. "One of the Terrors pulled a jailbreak. Gobber's having a meltdown about it."

Hiccup's eyes widened, then a laugh bubbled out of him, short and bright. "Oh, great. That's. . .that's perfect timing." Gobber swatted at him with his good hand, missing by a hair.

"Oi, none o' that cheek, lad—ye're helpin' fix this mess!" Hiccup dodged, still grinning, and you couldn't help but join in, the three of you forming a little knot of conspiratorial energy amidst the sleepy arena.

But the moment didn't last long. A horn blared from the edge of the grounds, sharp and insistent, signaling the start of the challenge. The others jolted awake—or at least tried to—Snotlout snorting himself upright, Astrid snapping her axe to her side, and the twins stumbling to their feet with bleary curses.

Gobber straightened, his grumpiness shifting to focus as he barked, "Right, ye lot—up and at 'em! Terrible Terror match starts now, and don't ye dare slack!

You shot Hiccup a quick look, your grin turning sly. "Guess the hunt's on hold. Let's survive this first." He nodded, still catching his breath, and the challenge kicked off—minus one sneaky Terror still unaccounted for.

The arena buzzed with a restless energy then as you all gathered in a loose semicircle before the large cage, its iron bars scratched and dented from years of dragon-wrangling. A tiny door, no bigger than a breadbox, was set into the base—just the right size for the smallest beast in the lineup.

The others shuffled into place beside you, still shaking off the morning haze. Astrid gripped her axe with a sleepy scowl, Snotlout flexed his shoulders like he was about to wrestle the thing barehanded, and Fishlegs clutched his notebook—hiding behind it as his eyes looked over, muttering to himself. Tuffnut and Ruffnut jostled each other, snickering as they craned their necks to peek inside.

"Meet the Terrible Terror!" Gobber bellowed, his voice cutting through the chatter like a war horn as he pushed a bar down.

He thumped his hammer-hand against the cage for emphasis, the clang echoing off the timber walls. You and Hiccup turned toward the pens just as the tiny door rattled open with a squeak, revealing a flash of scales and a pair of glinting eyes. The little dragon shot out like an arrow, all sharp claws and flapping wings, smaller than a housecat but twice as feral.

"Ha! It's like the size of my—!" Tuffnut started, his grin wide and cocky, but before he could finish, the Terror launched itself at his face.

It latched onto his nose with a snarl, tiny teeth sinking in as Tuffnut flailed, his shouts bouncing around the arena. "Get it off! Get it off!"

The crowd erupted—Ruffnut doubled over cackling, Snotlout barked a laugh, and even Astrid's lips twitched as Tuffnut stumbled in circles, swatting at the dragon like it was a persistent fly. You bit back a grin, glancing at Hiccup, who was already moving. In one smooth, practiced motion, he hefted his shield, angling it just so to catch the sun's glare.

A bright dot of light flickered to life on the stone floor, darting and dancing as he tilted the shield with steady hands. The Terror froze mid-gnaw, its head snapping toward the speck like a cat spotting a moth. Tuffnut yelped as it released his nose and took off, wings delighted, claws prancing as it chased the elusive glow in frantic loops around the ground.

"Wow—he's better than you ever were!" Tuffnut said to a glaring Astrid.

Hiccup kept his cool, stepping lightly as he guided the little beast in a winding path, the light dot skittering across the ground. You watched, half-amazed, half-amused, as he led it back toward the cage, calm as if he were herding a stray lamb. The Terror darted through the tiny door with a final triumphant snap of its jaws, and Hiccup dropped his foot onto the hatch, pinning it shut with a soft thud.

The dragon scrabbled inside, letting out a muffled squawk, but the door held firm. He held his shield close, then turned to face you, his lips curling into a lopsided smile that lit up his whole face—proud, a little shy, and aimed right at you.

You couldn't help it; a laugh slipped out, bright and warm, and you shook your head as you met his gaze. "Nice trick," you called over the lingering chaos, Tuffnut still rubbing his nose and muttering curses behind you.

Hiccup shrugged, his grin widening as he stepped closer, the shield dangling at his side. "Figured it'd work. I'll explain later," His eyes sparkled with that quiet mischief you knew so well.

The next day dawned quieter than most, a rare break before the trial that would whittle the trainees down to the final two—those who'd face the last challenge and earn the right to kill a dragon. The weight of it hung in the air, but for now, you let it slip away, your boots crunching over the mossy stones as you descended into the cove alone.

Toothless was already there of course, sprawled out on a slab of sun-warmed rock, his black scales glinting faintly in the dappled light filtering through the trees. His tail flicked lazily—happily as you approached.

You sank down beside him, resting a hand on his broad, smooth head. "Hey, you big beauty," you murmured, your fingers tracing the ridges above his nose. Toothless let out a low, rumbling purr, his lids drifting shut as he leaned into your touch.

It was his favorite—something about the slow, steady strokes always melted him into a puddle of contentment, and you couldn't help but smile as his breathing deepened, the sound vibrating through your palm. You shifted closer, sitting cross-legged as you kept up the rhythm, the cove's stillness wrapping around you both like a blanket.

"Just you and me for a bit, huh?" you said softly, and he huffed a warm breath, nuzzling your hand.

You'd been there a while—longer than usual, lost in the quiet—when a rustle broke through the trees. Toothless's ears perked, his eyes snapping open, and you turned just as Hiccup stumbled into the clearing, panting hard.

His chest heaved, his hair a sweaty mess plastered to his forehead, and he kept throwing quick, jittery glances over his shoulder like something might burst out of the forest behind him. Toothless leapt up, bounding over with a startled warble, his head tilting as he sniffed at Hiccup's tunic.

You stood, brushing off your knees, your brow furrowing. "Hiccup, what's wrong? You look like you just outran a swarm of Terrors."

He waved a hand, still catching his breath as he dropped the bundle of gear he'd been clutching under one arm. "It's—whew—nothing, really. Just. . .Astrid." He straightened, wiping his brow with his sleeve.

"I was walking through the woods, heading here like we planned, and she was out there training—chopping logs with that axe like they owed her gold. She spotted me, and I—I didn't know if she'd follow, so I took the long way around. You know, through the ravine, past the old oak? No one's behind me, though—I checked."

Toothless snorted, nudging Hiccup's side with his snout, and you laughed, the tension easing out of your shoulders. "You're paranoid. She's probably still terrorizing that poor stump."

Hiccup grinned, sheepish but relieved, and plopped down onto the grass beside the gear—a tangle of leather straps, ropes and metal fittings for Toothless's saddle and tail.

"Yeah, well, better safe than interrogated. She's got a way of staring right through you." He patted Toothless's flank as the dragon flopped back down, already nosing at the pile of equipment.

You settled next to them, picking up a strap to untangle it. "So, what's the plan? Finish the tail rig today?"

Hiccup nodded, his energy shifting as he launched into it. "Yep—got the new counterweight figured out. Should make the turns sharper without throwing him off balance. Oh, and I tweaked the saddle straps—less chafing for him, more grip for me."

The day slipped by like that, the two of you hunched over the gear in the cove's soft light. You handed him tools, held pieces in place while he tinkered, and listened as he rambled about drag coefficients and wind resistance—his excitement kept you hooked.

Toothless sprawled nearby, occasionally nudging the saddle with a curious grunt as Hiccup tested fittings on him. By afternoon, it was ready, and Hiccup took him up for flight tests—short loops at first, then longer swoops over the cove's cliffs. You sat on the rock, shielding your eyes against the sun as they soared, Toothless's wings cutting the air with a grace that made your chest ache.

"Looking good!" you shouted as they landed, Hiccup sliding off with a triumphant grin, his hair even wilder than before.

Twilight crept in as you finally packed up, the sky bruising purple and gold over the treetops. You and Hiccup climbed out of the cove together, gear slung over his shoulder, Toothless bounding off toward his own hideout. At the fork in the path, you paused, turning to him.

"See you tomorrow, dragon boy. Don't let Astrid catch you sneaking around again." He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"No promises. Night." You waved, heading your separate ways—him toward the village center, you toward your small house near the forge.

The familiar outline of your home came into view, but something tugged at your gut as you neared—the door was ajar, half-open against the frame. Your steps slowed, a prickle of unease crawling up your spine. You'd shut it tight that morning, hadn't you? Hand hovering to grab a rock on the ground, you nudged the door wider with your foot, peering into the dim interior.

The hearth glowed low, casting long shadows across the floor, and the faint bubble of your fish stew pot hummed from the fire—just as you'd left it, simmering slow and steady. No one was there. No boot prints, no overturned chairs—just the quiet creak of the house settling. You let out a breath, shaking your head at yourself as you stepped inside and latched the door firm.

"Getting jumpy over nothing," you muttered, stirring the stew with a faint smile, the warmth of the day still lingering in your bones.

You reached for a wooden bowl from the stack by the hearth, the rough grain familiar under your fingertips, and ladled a steaming portion of fish stew from the pot. The rich, salty aroma curled up with the heat as you carried it to the table, setting it down with a soft clunk.

The day's fatigue tugged at you, a dull ache in your shoulders from training and tinkering with Hiccup, so you turned back toward the pantry nook. "Bread and ale," you mumbled to yourself, rubbing your eyes as you shuffled off to fetch them, the floorboards creaking under your boots.

The small shelf in the corner held a loaf of crusty, soft bread and a clay jug of ale, and you grabbed them both, balancing the loaf under your arm as you headed back. But when you stepped up to the table, your brows knit together. The bowl sat there, empty—licked clean, not a drop of stew left clinging to the sides.

You blinked, tilting your head. "Didn't I—?" you started, then shook it off with a huff, a tired laugh slipping out. "Gods, I'm losing it. Must be more beat than I thought."

Shrugging, you turned back to the pot, snagging another bowl from the stack. You scooped up a fresh serving, the ladle scraping the bottom as you muttered, "No more stew gremlins tonight." You yawned.

You set the new bowl on the table, careful this time, but as you shifted to grab the bread, your wooden spoon slipped from your fingers. It clattered to the floor, and you sighed, bending down to snatch it up. Your knees creaked as you straightened, brushing the spoon against your tunic—and then you froze.

A pair of huge, bright yellow eyes stared back at you from across the table, glowing like twin lanterns in the dim light. They were wide and unblinking, set in a small, scaly face smeared with fish stew, the mess dripping from its jaws.

Your breath caught, heart lurching as you locked eyes with the creature. It was a Terrible Terror—the one that'd slipped the arena cages, no doubt. Its scales shimmered a deep, mottled gray and orange, and its left wing hung limp at an odd angle, the membrane torn and bruised from its escape.

For a long minute, you just stared at each other, the silence thick between you. The dragon didn't flinch, her tongue flicking out to lick around her stew-smeared mouth, then darting up to swipe across one eye like a lizard. With a sudden twitch, she skittered back, hopping off the table and retreating a few steps, her tail flicking nervously.

"Whoa, whoa, hey," you whispered, keeping your voice low and soft as you raised a hand. "It's okay, little buddy. I won't hurt you. Here—look."

Moving slow, you edged toward the pot, fishing out a small chunk of fish from the stew with your fingers with a hiss from the heat. The scent wafted up, sharp and briny, and you held it out, arm steady despite the quick thump of your pulse. She froze, her yellow eyes narrowing as she tracked the offering. She crept forward, claws clicking faintly on the floor, her broken wing dragging slightly—cautious, just like Toothless had been with you that first time.

Then, in a flash, she lunged, snatching the fish from your hand with a snap of her jaws. You flinched, jerking back as her teeth grazed your fingertips—not hard, but enough to startle you.

"Easy!" you yelped, shaking out your hand, but the little thing just sat there, chewing her prize with quick, jerky bites. Her gaze flicked up to meet yours, and her tail gave a slow, tentative wag, the tip brushing the floor like a shy apology.

You exhaled, a grin tugging at your lips as the tension melted away. "Well, you're a bold little menace, aren't you?"

She tilted her head, licking her chops clean, and something warm bloomed in your chest. Those big, unblinking eyes, that little wag—she was a scrappy thing, fierce despite her smaller than normal Terrible Terror size and her busted wing.

You sank down to sit cross-legged on the floor, resting your chin in your hand as you watched her. "Guess you're staying for dinner, huh, little one?" you murmured, and she chirped—a small, raspy sound—before inching closer, her tail wagging a bit faster.

You were hooked, plain and simple, already smitten with the tiny terror who'd broken into your house and stolen your stew.

You stayed there on the floor, the warmth of the hearth seeping through the wood and into your legs as the dragon finished another piece of fish, her tiny tongue darting out to swipe the last bits from her scaly snout. She gave a small, satisfied huff, her bright yellow eyes blinking slowly as she studied you.

You held still, barely breathing, not wanting to spook her off. Then, to your surprise, she shuffled closer, her claws tapping a faint rhythm on the floorboards. Her broken wing dragged a little, but she didn't seem to mind, her focus locked on you with that unblinking stare.

Before you could react, she hopped up, her small body surprisingly light as she clambered into your lap. She circled thrice, like a cat picking its spot, then flopped down with a soft thud, tucking her good wing against her side. Her head settled against your knee, and a low, rumbling purr vibrated through her, the sound so deep for something so small it made you laugh under your breath.

"Oh, you're making yourself at home now, huh?" you murmured, resting a tentative hand on her back. Her scales were smooth and warm under your palm, and she didn't flinch—just leaned into the touch, her tail curling lazily around your wrist like a little bracelet.

You sat there for a while, stroking her gently as her purring deepened, her eyes drifting shut. The firelight danced across her scales, picking out flecks of red and orange you hadn't noticed before, and that busted wing twitched faintly as she relaxed. She was a mess—stew still smeared on her snout, one wing drooping—but there was something about her, fierce and fragile all at once, that tugged at you hard.

"You're a tough little thing, aren't you, little Menace?" you whispered, your fingers tracing the ridge of her spine. She let out a sleepy chirp, nuzzling closer, and your heart did a soft, helpless flip.

But as the quiet stretched on, a thought sparked in your mind, sharp and insistent. Hiccup. You needed to tell him—right now. He'd know what to do about that wing, how to help her, and besides, he'd lose his mind over this. A Terrible Terror sneaking into your house?

Escaping the arena and picking you to crash with? He'd be halfway between thrilled and jealous, probably already sketching out a splint in his head. You glanced down at Menace—the name you thought fitting in the moment—still curled up in your lap, her breathing slow and steady, and bit your lip.

"Guess I can't just leave you here," you muttered, half to her, half to yourself.

Careful not to jostle her too much, you slid your hands beneath her small frame, lifting her as you stood. She stirred, cracking one eye open with a grumbly warble, but didn't fight it—just nestled deeper into your arms, her tail flicking once before going still. You grabbed your cloak from the hook by the door, draping it over your shoulders with one hand, and stepped out into the cool air, Menace cradled against your chest.

The village was hushed, the last streaks of daylight fading over the rooftops, and you set off toward Hiccup's place, your mind racing with how you'd break the news. "Wait till he sees you, little troublemaker," you said softly, grinning as Menace purred against you, oblivious to the excitement she'd just sparked.

The twilight had deepened as you slipped through Berk's winding paths, the sky now a bruised purple streaked with fading gold turning night. Menace stayed nestled in your arms, her small, warm weight pressed against your chest beneath the cloak you'd draped over her. Her purring had softened to a faint hum, her broken wing tucked awkwardly against her side as she dozed.

You kept your steps light, boots barely scuffing the dirt as you wove between the shadowed outlines of houses. The village was mostly quiet, but the occasional clatter of a shutting door or the low murmur of a lookout's voice kept you on edge. You ducked behind a stack of barrels as a burly Viking trudged by, his torch blazing, then darted across an open stretch when the coast was clear, sticking to the darker edges where the torchlight didn't reach.

Hiccup's giant house loomed ahead, its slanted roof and cluttered forge annex unmistakable even in the dim. You crept up to the door, glancing over your shoulder one last time—no one in sight, no footsteps trailing you. Adjusting Menace carefully, you rapped your knuckles against the wood, a quick, sharp knock that cut through the stillness.

The sound barely faded before the door creaked open, and Hiccup stood there, blinking at you in the faint glow spilling from inside. He wasn't asleep—his hair was tousled, sure, but his eyes were bright, and he held a half-whittled stick in one hand, a knife in the other, like he'd been fidgeting by the fire sharpening his pencils.

"Hey, what're you—?" he started, but you didn't wait for him to finish.

You brushed past him, Menace still hidden under your cloak, and muttered, "Shut the door," as you stepped into the warmth of his home.

He froze for a second, brow furrowing in confusion, but obeyed, pushing the door closed with a soft thud. "Uh, okay, sure—but what's going on? What're you doing here?" he asked, setting the stick and knife on a nearby table as he turned to you, his voice a mix of curiosity and mild alarm.

You didn't answer right away. Instead, you shifted your cloak aside with a flourish, revealing Menace cradled in your arms. Her yellow eyes cracked open at the movement, glinting in the firelight, and a smear of fish stew still clung to her snout. Hiccup's jaw dropped, his eyes widening as he took a step closer, his voice dropping to a hushed, incredulous whisper.

"No way—is that—? A Terrible Terror? What are doing with it?" He leaned in, hands hovering like he wasn't sure where to start, his astonishment spilling out in a rush. "Where did—? How did—? Is that the one from the arena?"

You grinned, nodding as you adjusted Menace so he could see her better. "Yep. This little Menace snuck in, licked my stew bowl clean before I even noticed her—ate most my stew. Think she's the escapee Gobber was losing his mind over."

Hiccup let out a soft, disbelieving laugh, his gaze flicking between you and the dragon. "Unbelievable. She just happened to choose your house. Guessing it must've been the fish then. That's—wow."

He reached out tentatively, fingers brushing the air near her head. Menace tilted her chin up, eyeing him warily, then flicked her tongue out to lick her stew-smeared jaw, unimpressed.

"Careful, she's quick," you warned, smirking as you shifted her weight.

Hiccup tried again, slower this time, his hand inching closer until he grazed the top of her head. She didn't snap—just huffed a tiny, raspy chirp and leaned into it, her eyes half-closing as that low purr rumbled up again.

Hiccup's face lit up, a grin spreading wide as he whispered, "Oh, she likes that. Look at her—little Menace, huh?" He glanced at you, eyes sparkling with excitement. "Her wing's busted, though—see that bend? We could fix it. Some leather, maybe a light splint. . ."

You nodded, easing down onto a bench by the hearth, Menace still purring in your lap. "Hoped you'd say that. Couldn't just leave her there—and I knew you'd want in on this."

Hiccup crouched beside you, already reaching for a scrap of parchment on the table, his mind clearly racing. "Oh, I'm in. This is—gods, this is incredible. She's so tiny—look at her!"

His hushed whispers bubbled with awe as he scratched gently under her chin, earning another pleased warble from Menace. You couldn't help but laugh softly, the two of you huddled there in the flickering light, plotting over your unexpected new friend like kids with a secret treasure.

Hiding Menace turned into a daily test of stealth and patience, one you hadn't quite bargained for when you'd taken her in. Leaving her in your house wasn't an option—not with Gobber's complete disregard for privacy. The man had a habit of barging in at dawn, bucket of ice water in hand, ready to douse you awake like he'd done since you were old enough to stumble over your own feet.

"Keeps ye sharp!" he'd bellow, grinning as you sputtered and cursed.

So, after a hushed debate by Hiccup's hearth, you and he decided the cove was the safest bet—Toothless's domain, tucked away from prying eyes. You bundled Menace in your cloak again, her little body squirming as you carried her through the village outskirts, Hiccup leading the way with a lantern he invented dimmed low to dodge any late-night lookouts.

The first meeting between Toothless and Menace was. . .tense. Toothless had eyed her with a wary growl, his ears flat as she skittered out of your arms onto the cove's mossy floor. Menace, fearless despite her size, puffed up and hissed right back, her broken wing twitching—her tiny roar fearsome.

You and Hiccup hovered nearby, ready to intervene, but after a few sniffs and a tentative nudge from Toothless's snout, they settled. Soon, they were sprawled out together—though not without Menace trying to swipe Toothless's fish portions every chance she got. Her tiny jaws snapped at his pile, and he'd grumble, nudging her away with a paw until you started bringing extra, piling her own little stash to keep the peace.

"She's a thief," Hiccup laughed one day, tossing her another fish, "but she's our thief."

Days blurred into a rhythm after that—Hiccup running flight tests with Toothless, tweaking the saddle and tail fin while you slipped off to the woods alone, hurling daggers at makeshift targets carved into trees. The blades thunked into the bark with satisfying precision, though you'd never turn them on a dragon—not after Menace, not after Toothless.

You kept up appearances in the arena too, training under Gobber's watchful eye with the others, all to mask the secret growing in the cove. But the final trial loomed closer, the one that'd cut the trainees down to two, and the air in Berk thickened with anticipation for it and excitement for Stoick and the rest of Berk's return.

The day arrived sharp and cold; the arena packed with villagers craning to see the last stand. You stood in the center with Ruffnut and Tuffnut, the three of you ringed by towering wooden walls as Gobber's voice boomed overhead.

"Last trial, ye lot! Two stand, the rest falls—don't muck it up!"

The gate rattled open, and a thick, acrid smoke poured in, curling around your boots as the Hideous Zippleback slithered free. Its two heads hissed in unison—one spitting green gas, the other sparking flame—and the crowd roared as the chaos erupted.

You darted left, shield up, as a jet of fire scorched the area where you'd stood. Ruffnut charged right, howling a battle cry, her mace swinging wild as she aimed for the gas head.

"I've got this ugly one!" she shouted, but the Zippleback was faster—its sparking head whipped around, igniting the gas in a blinding flare.

She dove, rolling under the blast, but came up too close. The gas head lunged, snapping at her heels, and she tripped, sprawling forward with a curse as it stole her boot.

"Ruffnut's out!" Gobber bellowed as a pair of Vikings hauled her off, her protests echoing through the smoke.

It was just you and Tuffnut now, back-to-back as the Zippleback circled, its twin heads weaving through the haze.

"This is awesome!" Tuffnut yelled, grinning like a lunatic as he hefted his spear. "Let's ram it!" He charged, spear-first, aiming for the sparking head, but the gas head reared up, blasting a cloud that choked the air. You coughed, ducking low as sparks flew, and saw the flame head twist toward Tuffnut.

"Move, Tuffnut!" you shouted, sprinting forward. He didn't see it—the fire licked out, a blazing arc as the dragons claws thrashed out, and you threw yourself at him, slamming into his side. You both hit the ground hard, rolling as the flames roared overhead, singeing the edge of your tunic.

Tuffnut blinked up at you, sprawled in the ground, his jaw slack. "You. . .saved me?" he managed, voice cracking with shock.

You shoved off him, grimacing as a sharp sting flared in your arm—the old Nadder scar, reopened, blood seeping through your sleeve where the beast clawed you.

"Don't get used to it," you muttered, clutching the wound as you staggered up. But the Zippleback wasn't done—its heads swung toward you, gas hissing, and you stumbled, vision blurring from the smoke and pain.

"Enough!" Gobber's roar cut through, and the gatekeepers rushed in, chains clanking as they wrangled the dragon back.

"She's out—get her to Gothi!" Hands grabbed you, pulling you from the arena as the crowd murmured, and you gritted your teeth in anger, blood dripping down your arm.

The next thing you knew, you were propped on a bench outside a little way from the arena, Gothi's gnarled hands working fast—smearing a pungent salve over the gash, her staff tapping your shoulder to hold still. Hiccup was there in an instant, shoving through the onlookers, his face pale and pinched with worry.

"Hey—hey, you okay?" he asked, dropping to his knees beside you, his hand finding yours without hesitation.

His fingers curled tight around yours, warm despite the chill, and you felt your cheeks heat even through the sting of Gothi's stitching. "I'm fine, Hiccup," you said, voice rough but steady, though your own flush crept up your neck at how close he was—how he didn't let go.

He blushed too, pink spreading across his freckles, but his grip stayed firm, his thumb brushing your knuckles absently. "You scared me out there," he muttered, eyes darting to your arm as Gothi wrapped it in cloth. "That was—gods, you didn't have to jump in like that."

You smirked, wincing as Gothi tugged the bandage tight. "Had to. Tuffnut's too dumb to save himself."

Hiccup laughed, short and shaky, and squeezed your hand again, his worry melting into something softer as he stayed right there, blushing and steadfast, until Gothi shooed him back with a grunt.

The trials were finally over—at least for you, the arena settling into a tense hush as the dust and smoke long cleared. You stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the other trainees—Snotlout, Fishlegs, Tuffnut, Ruffnut, Astrid, and Hiccup—your arm still throbbing under Gothi's fresh bandages, the ache a dull reminder of the Zippleback—and the Nadders' chaos.

The crowd ringed the edges, their murmurs buzzing like flies as Gobber limped forward, his hammer-hand raised to quiet them. His weathered face split into a grin, his voice booming over the grounds.

"Right, ye scrappy lot—time to name the final two!" He said and wasted no time, "Hiccup and Astrid, ye've earned it. Next challenge: the Nadder. Winner gets the honor o' slayin' the Monstrous Nightmare!"

A roar erupted from the villagers, cheers and stomps shaking the timber walls. Astrid's jaw tightened, her eyes glinting with determination, while Hiccup shifted beside you, his expression a mix of nerves and something unreadable. You nudged him with your good elbow, smiling.

"Told you you'd make it." He shot you a quick, lopsided grin, but before he could reply, the crowd started to disperse, and you both turned to slip away, eager to dodge the inevitable swarm of Hiccups new attention.

You'd barely taken two steps when Tuffnut and Ruffnut loomed into your path, their broad frames blocking the way out. The air went awkward fast—silence stretching as Tuffnut shuffled his feet, staring at the ground like it might swallow him. Ruffnut crossed her arms, smirking faintly, but said nothing.

You and Hiccup exchanged a glance, unsure what was coming, until Tuffnut finally mumbled, "Uh. . .thanks. Y'know, for. . .pushin' me outta the way back there."

He jerked his chin toward your bandaged arm, his voice dropping lower. "Would've got my face slashed. So. . .yeah," He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes, while Ruffnut gave you a quick, sharp nod—her version of approval—before nudging her brother.

"C'mon, dummy," she muttered, and they trudged off, leaving you and Hiccup blinking after them.

You pressed your lips together, a snort threatening to break free as Hiccup's shoulders shook beside you. "Did Tuffnut just. . .thank me?" you whispered, and Hiccup choked out a laugh, covering his mouth. "I think he did. Mark the day."

The two of you stood there, giggling under your breath, the absurdity cutting through the tension. Somehow, you managed to weave through the arena's edge without Hiccup's growing pack of admirers swallowing him whole—Snotlout was busy flexing for a gaggle of kids, and Fishlegs was rambling to anyone who'd listen, giving you a clear shot to the exit.

But before you could get far, Gothi's small, hunched figure stepped into your path, her staff tapping the ground with purpose. Gobber lumbered up behind her, scratching his beard as he translated her flurry of gestures.

"She says ye've gotta rest that arm, lass. No arguin'—or else." Gothi's milky eyes narrowed at you, her gnarled hand jabbing the air for emphasis, and you sighed, shoulders slumping.

"Fine," you muttered, disappointed but too tired to fight it. Hiccup frowned beside you, his brow creasing, but nodded.

"Guess I'll head alone, then. Check on Toothless and Menace." His voice was light when you both were out of sight, but something flickered in his eyes—worry, maybe, or frustration.

You started toward your house, Hiccup falling into step beside you until you reached the shadowed patch near your door. He stopped suddenly, his frown deepening, and before you could ask what was wrong, he pulled you into a tight hug. His arms wrapped around you hard, his face burying into your shoulder as his breath hitched against your tunic.

"You've gotta be more careful," he mumbled, his voice low and rough, edged with an anger that caught you off guard. "I mean it—stop throwing yourself into stuff like that." He squeezed you tighter, hiding his face, and you felt your own cheeks flush, your hands hovering before settling awkwardly on his back.

"Hiccup, I'm—" you started, but he pulled away just as fast, stepping back with his head ducked low. You caught a glimpse of red creeping up his ears before he turned, muttering a quick, "See you later," and bolted off toward the woods, his lanky frame disappearing into the dusk.

You stood there, heart thumping, a slow grin tugging at your lips as you shook your head and pushed your door open. The house was quiet, the new pot of stew still simmering faintly, and you sank onto a stool, replaying that hug—his sudden, fierce worry, the way he'd hidden his blush—with a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the hearth.

That same day turn night, the village hushed under a blanket of stars and the occasional creak of settling timber. You were half-dozing by the hearth, the embers casting a faint glow across the room, when a sharp knock jolted you upright. It came from the back door—and at this point you knew it was Hiccup since this became a ritual between you both now.

His knock anyways was quick, insistent, not the casual rap of a neighbor. You crept over, peering through the opened door. Your heart lurched as Hiccup's familiar silhouette filled the gap, but then your eyes widened—Toothless loomed behind him, his massive black shape barely squeezed into the narrow alley, eyes glinting in the dark.

You yanked the door open, hissing, "Hiccup, what the hell? Why'd you bring him?"

Your voice was a harsh whisper, darting a glance around to make sure no one was lurking. Hiccup stumbled in, Toothless nudging past the frame with a low grumble, his tail flicking dangerously close to your stew pot as he could barely fit in the home.

"I didn't have a choice!" Hiccup shot back, equally quiet but flustered, his hands flailing as he pointed to the saddle strapped across Toothless's back. "Look—the hook's jammed. I can't get it off without a tool, and I couldn't just leave him in the cove like this!"

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose as you shut the door behind them, careful not to let it slam. "Great. So you thought dragging a dragon through the village at midnight was the smart move? He can't stay in my house."

He scowled, crossing his arms. "Oh, like you'd have a better plan. I tried prying it loose—nearly took my finger off!" Toothless huffed, shifting impatiently, and you waved a hand at him.

"Fine, fine—forge it is. Try to keep him quiet." Hiccup nodded, grabbing the rope that bind him to the dragon in the first place as you led the way out the back, the three of you slipping into the shadows toward the forge.

Your house sits mere steps from the forge, its squat frame dwarfed by the sprawling workshop where you and Hiccup now steer—a space that offers the Night Fury more room to stretch, though its open sprawl conceals him far less than the tight walls of your home ever could.

You slip inside, the air sharp with the tang of wood dust, and it's only as you cross the threshold that Toothless spots a battered bucket perched beside tools, its dull gleam promising fish. He lunges, snatching it on his snout before hurling it aside—it strikes the dirt floor and into tools with a jarring clang that echoes off the rafters, splintering the quiet.

You stiffen, breath catching, as Hiccup's eyes flare wide; he grabs the dragon's head, pulling it low with a sharp tug. "Toothless!" he snaps under his breath, voice a strained rasp, but the damage is done—sound hangs heavy in the air, a signal neither of you can call back but Hiccup makes quick on his actions to try and pry the metal apart on the rope anyways.

"Hiccup? Are you in there?" Astrid's voice cut through the night, sharp and suspicious, her boots crunching closer from the shadows.

You cursed under your breath, holding Toothless as still as possible as Hiccup panicked. Before you could stop him—or even think—he bolted for the window-door, slamming it shut behind him to block Astrid's view, leaving you and Toothless crouched in the dark.

"Astrid! Hey! Hi, Astrid. Hi! Astrid! Hi—Astrid," he stammered, his voice pitching higher with every word as he leaned against the frame, trying to look casual.

You rolled your eyes, pressing a hand to Toothless's snout as he rumbled, but the dragon stilled, sensing the tension, his big eyes blinking at you obediently before he peered around to spot a sheep.

"Idiot—you should've let me talk," you muttered, facepalming as you peeked through a crack in the wall.

Outside, Astrid stood with her arms crossed, staring at Hiccup like he'd grown a second head.

"I normally don't care what people do, but you're acting weird," she said, her tone flat but her eyes narrowing.

Toothless shifted beside you, tugging the jammed strap, and Hiccup jolted backward with a loud "OH!" as the hook yanked him off-balance. Astrid's brow furrowed deeper.

"Well. . .weirder," she added, studying him like he was some village dork about to confess a prank.

Hiccup flashed a strained grin, hands clasped tight around his frame as Toothless tugged again—and again—each pull jerking him harder—higher. You held your breath, keeping Toothless's head low, until the dragon gave one final, impatient yank. The strap snapped free, and Hiccup flew backward into the forge, the doors banging shut as he crashed into a pile of scrap metal with a muffled yelp.

He and Toothless immediately hopped out of there and out of sight as you winced, scrambling to your feet. Outside, Astrid blinked, then marched forward, ripping the wooden panel windows wide open. You stood there, caught mid-step, and waved awkwardly as her sharp gaze landed on you.

"Hey. . .What's up? Astrid," you said, forcing a grin.

She didn't smile back, her hands on her hips. "Where'd he go? Did you just yank him up?" she demanded, glancing around the forge's shadowed corners.

You scrambled, the lie tumbling out fast. "Did I?—Yes. Sometimes when he—just pisses me off I. . .Just have to give him a mighty wedgie! Ya'know? What can I say?" You shrugged, leaning casually against the workbench like it was no big deal, even as your pulse hammered.

Astrid raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Where is he?"

You waved a hand vaguely toward the back. "Went off holding his backside. Probably sulking somewhere. Mayhaps. . ." You answer, just as you witnessed the dragon, and his boy fly off right in front of you across the yard.

She stared at you a beat longer, then huffed. "Aren't you supposed to be resting?" she asked, nodding at your bandaged arm.

You grinned wider, deflecting. "Oh, you know me—can't sit still. Just. . .checking on some tools."

She rolled her eyes, muttering something about "weirdos" under her breath, then turned on her heel and stalked off into the night. You let out a shaky breath, slumping against the bench. Trying your best to calm your heart.

The next day the cove was quiet that afternoon, the air thick with the scent of pine and dirt as you and Hiccup lingered by the rocks. Berk buzzed with life beyond the trees—the rest of the village had returned from their hundredth attempt at finding the dragons nest unsuccessfully—but Hiccup's shoulders had tensed at the thought of facing them.

Especially his father. You caught the way his jaw had tightened, his fingers fidgeting with his journal back in Berk, and before he even said it, you knew what was coming.

"Hey," he murmured, glancing at you with those green eyes, half-pleading, half-mischievous. "Wanna sneak off with me? Just. . .avoid all that for a bit?"

You nodded your head in agreement. You couldn't say no—not to that look, not to the chance to dodge the chaos of Berk together. So you did. Slipping through the woods, you kept to the shadows until you reached the cove's edge.

The afternoon sun slanting through the trees and painting the mossy rocks in warm gold. Toothless sprawled nearby, gnawing lazily on a fish while Menace perched on a boulder, her good wing fluttering as she watched him with greedy eyes even though she had three large ones at her side.

You leaned against a rock, arms crossed, as you had brought up what ypu said to Astrid—to try to get his mind off of his dad. Grinning as Hiccup paced in front of you, now stewing over last night's fiasco.

"A wedgie?" he asked, his face flushing red with embarrassment as he shot you a look, half-exasperated, half-amused.

"That was the best excuse you could come up with in front of her?" He sighed, brushing imaginary scrap off his tunic like he could still feel the forge's chaos clinging to him.

You smirked, nudging Toothless as the dragon warbled softly, lifting his head to nuzzle your leg. "Worked, didn't it? You're welcome," you said, your tone smug as you tilted your head at him.

"Astrid bought it—or at least didn't care enough to keep poking. I'd call that a win."

Hiccup groaned, dragging a hand down his face, but a laugh slipped out despite himself, bright and unguarded. "Yeah, a win where I look like a total dork who can't walk straight," he muttered, though his grin betrayed how little he actually minded.

He shook his head, the embarrassment fading as he turned to Toothless, who'd finished his fish and was now stretching his wings with an eager rumble. "Alright, enough about my imaginary backside trauma," Hiccup said, clapping his hands together. "We've got bigger things today."

He swung a leg over Toothless's saddle, settling into place as he checked the straps—newly fixed after last night's jam. "Biggest flight test yet. New tail fin angle, tighter turns—gonna see how far we can push it." His eyes sparkled with that familiar mix of nerves and excitement, his hands already adjusting the reins.

You stepped closer, resting a hand on Toothless's flank as the dragon huffed, ready to go. "You sure it's all set? What if it goes wrong?" your voice softened as you watched him double-check the gear. "I mean—what if your backside can't handle it and you fall off?"

He shot you a mock glare over his shoulder. "Very funny. Yes, it's set—thanks to you not wedgie-ing me into next week."

You laughed, stepping back as Toothless shifted, his wings flexing in anticipation. "Go knock the sky out, then. I'll keep Menace from staging a fish heist down here."

And before he could leave you place a hand on his, "Be careful Hiccup. Please,"

Hiccup nodded, his smile widening as he clicked his tongue. "Hold on tight, bud," he murmured, and Toothless launched upward with a powerful beat of his wings, kicking up a gust that ruffled your hair.

You shielded your eyes, watching as they soared higher, Hiccup leaning into the wind as Toothless banked sharply, testing the new rig. Their silhouettes shrank against the vast blue, disappearing and you couldn't help the swell of pride in your chest—mixed with a little ache, knowing he was heading into something big, something you couldn't follow. For now, though, you turned back to Menace, who chirped indignantly at Toothless's empty fish pile, and you tossed her a spare chunk with a laugh, settling in to wait.

When he returned, the sun was dipping rather low, casting long shadows across the cove. Toothless landed with a triumphant thud, his tongue lolling out like a pleased pup, and Hiccup slid off the saddle, grinning wider than you'd seen in days. They both radiated a quiet, buzzing joy, but you squinted as he stepped closer—his hair was a mess, singed at the edges, and faint smudges of soot streaked his face and tunic.

"Do. . .I want to know what happened?" you asked, arching a brow as you crossed your arms.

Hiccup chuckled, shaking his head as he brushed a hand through his charred bangs, dislodging a few blackened strands. "Lost my cheat-sheet," he said, his tone light but edged with a sheepish pride.

You blinked, startled. "What?! Oh no, now you're going to have to redo it all?"

He waved a hand, still grinning as he leaned against Toothless, who huffed a warm breath. "Nope. Toothless and I no longer need it. We mastered it all—every turn, every dive. Just us now."

You stared, caught between disbelief and awe. "Wait, seriously? You just. . .figured it out up there? No notes, no nothing?"

He nodded, his smile turning smug as he patted Toothless's snout. "Yep. Took a few close calls—but we mastered it and got too excited—hence the, uh, singeing—but we've got it down. Perfect sync. Had to take a break after though, eat some grub. Met a few Terrors along the way."

Toothless crooned, nuzzling Hiccup's hand, and you laughed, shaking your head. "You're insane, you know that? Both of you."

"Maybe," Hiccup said, his eyes glinting as he glanced at Toothless.

The dragon's ears perked, and they exchanged a look—a quick, knowing flicker that you almost missed. "But it's worth it. Flying like that. . .It's freedom. Nothing else comes close."

You opened your mouth to reply, distracted by the way he lit up talking about it, when Toothless shifted behind you. You didn't notice at first—Hiccup kept talking, his voice animated. "We hit this one gust, right? Thought it'd throw us off, but Toothless adjusted mid-air, and—"

Before you could process it, Toothless swooped low, his sleek body sliding under you in one fluid motion. Your feet left the ground, and suddenly you were perched on the saddle—your first time ever on Toothless, or any dragon. You froze, hands flailing as you registered the warm scales beneath you, the faint creak of the leather.

"Hiccup, what—?!" you yelped, but he was already there, swinging up behind you in a heartbeat. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you tight against him so you couldn't squirm free, and your face flared red, heat rushing to your cheeks as his chest pressed to your back.

"Since we mastered it," he teased, his voice low and warm right by your ear, "we think it's time you finally get to know what it's like to fly."

You twisted to glare at him, "Barely!" but he couldn't see your blush—not with how he held you, his chin tucked over your shoulder. "Hiccup, no!" you protested, gripping the saddle's edged grip he made as panic spiked through you.

Too late. Toothless launched into the air with a powerful beat of his wings, the ground dropping away as you screamed—a sharp, startled sound that ripped through the cove. Hiccup's laugh rang out behind you, bright and unrestrained, while Toothless soared higher, his tongue flapping out like a gleeful dog's.

The wind roared past, tugging at your hair, your tunic, your everything, and you clung to the saddle, heart hammering as the world tilted wildly below. Hiccup's arms tightened around you, steadying you, and despite your protests, a shaky laugh bubbled up, caught somewhere between terror and exhilaration.

"You're dead for this!" you shouted over the rush, but his answering grin—unseen but felt—told you he knew you didn't mean it.

The initial shock of Toothless's takeoff faded into a wild, rushing blur as the dragon climbed higher above the clouds, his wings slicing through the air with a steady, powerful rhythm. Your scream tapered off, dissolving into a breathless gasp as you gripped the saddle's hand grip, knuckles white against the leather.

Hiccup's arms stayed locked around your waist, his hold firm but gentle, anchoring you against the dizzying ascent. His chest pressed warm and solid against your back, and though your face still burned red from the sudden closeness, you couldn't turn to see his expression—not that you'd dare with the world spinning below you.

The wind whipped past, as they took you, tugging at your hair and stinging your eyes, but Hiccup's voice cut through it, low and teasing near your ear. "See? Not so bad, right?"

You wanted to snap something back—some sharp retort about how you'd strangle him later—but the words caught in your throat as Toothless leveled out, gliding smoothly into the open sky. The cove shrank to a speck beneath you, Berk's jagged cliffs blurring into the horizon as the sun dipped low, spilling molten rose gold across the sea.

You felt Hiccup's breath hitch slightly, his grip tightening just a fraction, and then he went quiet—no more teasing, no more quips. Just the two of you, wrapped in the vast silence of the sky, the only sounds the soft whoosh of Toothless's wings and the distant crash of waves far below.

He guided Toothless higher still, the dragon's sleek body weaving through wisps of cloud that brushed cool and damp against your skin. You reached out instinctively, fingers grazing the mist, and a small, awed laugh escaped you as the clouds parted around your hand like smoke. Hiccup's arms shifted, one hand reaching to touch the clouds with you and the other sliding down to rest over yours on the saddle, his calloused fingers brushing yours in a way that sent a shiver up your spine—though you blamed it on the altitude.

"Told you it's like nothing else," he murmured, his voice softer now, almost reverent, as if he didn't want to break the spell of the moment. You nodded, too caught up to speak, your eyes fixed on the endless stretch of sky ahead.

The sun sank lower, its last rays igniting the clouds in a blaze of pink and orange, and then it slipped away entirely, leaving the world bathed in the deep indigo of twilight. Toothless tilted upward, climbing until you broke through the final layer of clouds, and there it was—the aurora.

Ribbons of green and violet shimmered across the night sky, curling and dancing like living light, their glow reflecting faintly in Toothless's wide eyes. Your breath caught, and you felt Hiccup's chin rest lightly on your shoulder, his warmth seeping through your tunic as he took it in too.

"Hiccup. . ." you whispered, barely audible, and he hummed in quiet agreement, his voice a low rumble against your back.

Neither of you spoke for a long stretch, the silence between you heavy but not awkward—something deeper, something unspoken weaving itself into the space. His hand stayed over yours, thumb brushing absently against your knuckles, and his other arm tightened around your waist as Toothless dipped slightly, skimming the edge of a cloud.

The sudden drop made your stomach lurch, and you yelped, clutching the saddle harder. Hiccup laughed softly, his breath warm against your neck, and you felt his heartbeat quicken against your spine—or maybe it was yours, thudding loud in your ears.

"Got you," he said, his tone gentle, steadying, and you relaxed into him despite yourself, the fear melting into a strange, quiet trust.

Up here, with the aurora painting the sky and the clouds drifting like a sea of light below, it was just you and him—no Berk, no trials, no expectations. Toothless banked gently, his wings catching the wind as he soared along the aurora's edge, and Hiccup's hold never wavered.

His cheek brushed yours briefly as he leaned forward to adjust the reins, and your face flared again, though the darkness hid it. You wondered if he felt it too—this stillness, this closeness—but he didn't say anything, just kept you tucked against him as the night deepened around you.

For Hiccup, something shifted in that quiet. His heart skipped, a sharp, sudden jolt as Toothless swooped low again, the drop tugging at his chest. He chalked it up to the thrill—the rush of the dive, the way the wind roared past—but it lingered, warm and unfamiliar, as he pressed himself closer to you.

He didn’t recognize it for what it was, not yet—didn’t connect the way his pulse raced to the feel of you in his arms, the soft sound of your laugh still echoing in his mind. He just knew he didn’t want to let go, not yet, not when the sky felt infinite, and you were right there with him.

Toothless eventually descended, the flight easing into a slow glide as he circled back toward the cove. The aurora still shimmered faintly above as you touched down but not nearly as magnificent from being so close moments ago. Hiccup finally loosened his hold. He slid off first, offering you a hand with a grin—less teasing now, more genuine, his eyes bright in the dim light. You took it, your legs shaky as you dismounted, the grass cool and damp beneath your boots and for a second, your fingers lingered in his, neither of you pulling away.

“So. . .worth it?” he asked, his voice quiet but hopeful, like he needed to hear it.

You laughed, breathless, brushing hair from your face as you nodded. “Yeah. Definitely worth it.”

Toothless flopped down nearby, rolling onto his back with a contented warble, and you both turned to him, breaking the moment with soft chuckles.

“Guess we’re not the only ones who had fun,” you said, and Hiccup smiled, nudging your shoulder lightly.

“Told you he’s a show-off.” The night settled around you, calm and good, the memory of the flight—of that quiet, unspoken closeness—tucked away like a secret neither of you was ready to name, but both of you felt all the same.

This is Chapter 6 to this Hiccup series -> Masterlist here. Previous Chapter : Next Chapter

Gifs/edits, dividers + template credit to #uservampyr my co-writer + beta reader ♡

Lovely tag list ~ @kikikittykis

#chapter 6 of maelstrom #hiccup haddock #httyd hiccup #hiccup and toothless #hiccup how to train your dragon #hiccup x reader #hiccup fanfic #httyd fanfic #httyd x reader #toothless #httyd #how to train your dragon #hiccup haddock x reader #dragons #race to the edge #maelstrom #rtte

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attollogame · 21 days ago

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REVISED—Sysba/'Ymnar [3/6]

O sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams, That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell; how glorious once above thy sphere; Till pride and worse ambition threw me down.

There is a profoundness in the act of patricide that is rarely spoken of. To sever the bond to a parent so violently, so viciously. Rare few complete such a task, and Sysba wears this badge like a medal of honor. Alongside their badges of 'population control' and 'proud owner of the closest thing to a legal gambling ring someone can hold in Attollo', of course.

A Lovecraftian wet dream with an allergy to your routine burger, Sysba is a member of Ovo and the horror that haunts Dreamwalker's dreams (and bank account). They love themself above all else and would gleefully wipe out the entire city if they could, Dorian and Co. included. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea for you to visit their club?

To sit down and describe Sysba's abilities would be akin to describing abstract art. Only the artist can tell you the meaning, and in this case, the artist is giving 20+ interpretations. Shapeshifter, world-warper, Hannibal Lecter in heels, and trying their best to hide the several dozen tentacles their true form holds, the status of 'eldritch nightmare' has enabled Sysba many tricks.

Unfortunately, getting out of Attollo is not one of them.

As a deity, Sysba can take many different forms, from the common gecko to a sea monster, if they so choose. They change genders as they please and re-style their hair at least once a day.

Commonly, they're seen as an individual of Korean descent, standing at about 6' in all forms. They have dark hair either cut short and pushed back, cut to their chin, or cut to their shoulders. Their eyes are an impenetrable black and seem to glimmer like an insects. Their teeth are sharp, their ears holding a slight point, and they possess nails that should be considered more 'claw' than 'manicured'. They love silks, love heels, and love spending 3 hours in the morning applying their face (sometimes literally).

Between their gigs of part-time nightclub owner and part-time gambling addict, Sysba's thoughts continue to be a mystery to all who know them - alongside their true ambitions in Attollo.

#char:sysba #RO revised #attollo #interactive fiction

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destinyisastar · 6 months ago

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Lost in your Love PT 5

Vox x Reader (Alastor x Reader)

hey......heyyy... how y'all doin, how y'all been...?

I been gone for a longgggg time I hope this satisfies you all!! I made this one a bit longer than the others, idk when I'll post pt 6 but hopefully I'll make it soon!

Summary: A short memory of the past and a new one resurging.

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He thought the heavens made a mistake.

“This lovely lady here is my darling wife, Y/n.”

You raised your hand to Vox offering a handshake, “Pleasure to finally meet you Vox, I hope my husband isn’t causing you too much trouble.” You giggle, slightly nudging Alastor.

Vox couldn’t take his eyes off you, “The pleasures all mine.” Your hand was smaller, softer than his… it felt right.

After your first interaction with each other, he couldn’t get you off his mind. Surely you felt the same, but then again… you were married to his business partner, Alastor, one the most feared overlords in all of pride ring.

It didn’t take too long for Vox to reach overlord status, you were there too, praising him along the way. It was lovely. After spending time with both you and Alastor he began to notice that Alastor would often leave you behind with him.

“I’ll be back soon darling, stay here till I’ve return.” You would smile sadly, watching him disappear into the shadows. Vox placed his hand on the small of your back, smiling softly at you, “Lets head inside, yeah? We can rewatch “It Happened One Night”.” You look up towards him smiling.

“I thought you didn’t like to watch that movie?”

“I don’t mind watching it again if it's with you.”

You looked away from him, facing where Alastor disappeared, “Al, doesn’t like the picture box all that much, I liked if we had one of our own.”

Vox runs his hand down your arm reaching your hand, holding it in his, “Luckly for you, I’m just the man you need.” He taps his head.

You laugh, oh man, your laugh. He’s never heard a sound more beautiful. Of course he can listen to you for days on end, but your laugh… you rarely laugh like that for Alastor. Vox feels as if it’s only reserved for him to hear.

“Let’s go inside!” You pull him by his hand into the house leading him to the couch. You sit down first, and Vox connects himself to the small television, inputting the movie so you both can watch.

“I don’t think I could ever get tired of watching this.” You tell Vox, watching as he finishes setting the movie up.

“Watching me or the movie?” He smirks at you.

You feel your face turn red slightly, “The movie obviously!”

Vox laughs, “I know sweetheart, I’m just joking with you.” He takes a seat next to you.

The movie’s opening credits begin, and you slightly shuffle closer to Vox. He takes notice of this and wraps one arm around you. You place your head on his shoulder, sighing softly. Vox feels his screen burn.

……..

This is a feeling he can get used to.

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Vox knew that you felt uneasy about the sudden reappearance of alastor. Now this morning, you aren’t lying beside him, normally it would be him out of bed before you but today was different. He cancelled all his meetings for the day to spend time with you, his pretty wife, so that you can know that he’ll continue to keep you safe.

He finds you sitting on the couch, seemingly in a daze, with a coffee mug in your hand, “Good morning, sweetheart,” he presses a kiss to your cheek.

You snap out of your trance, “Good morning love! I have your coffee waiting you, just need to press the button.” You stand up walking over to the coffee maker rather quickly.

Vox looks you over as you walk away from him, the television in front of you was turned off… you were staring at nothing. Vox takes a seat on the couch, turning the television on to the 666 news.

“Here you go.” You place the coffee in his hands and take a seat…. with a space between the two of you. You never leave a space, mornings in front of the TV are usually spent cuddling with each other, Vox takes notice of this and moves closer to you.

“Everything alright sweetheart?”

You continue to stare at the television with a blank expression.

“Sweetheart?” Vox waves a hand in your face.

You shake your head, placing your hand to your forehead. “I’m okay, I just had a weird dream….it felt really real.”

“Was it a nightmare?”

“No, not a nightmare, but it was strange…”

Vox wraps an arm around you, taking a sip from his mug, “Do you wanna talk about it? It might help if you do.” He places the mug on the table. “You were staring at nothing minutes ago, must have been a really strange dream.”

“Was I really staring at nothing? I’m sorry.” You look over to him.

“Nothing to be sorry about sweets,” He kisses your forehead, “You okay with talking about it?”

You pause for a moment, “You might find it really weird, like really really weird.”

“We live in hell, my love, I’ve heard weirder things.” Vox cheekily smiles.

“Okay, well….it was about Alastor.” You feel Vox tighten is grip on you. “But we weren’t in hell… we were… were alive and dancing. I felt like I had known him my whole life! I don’t believe I ever met him in life, so I don’t know why I dreamed of him like that! He said loved me…...,” Vox tenses, “And I said it back.”

“It keeps replaying in my head, I don’t know why…”

Vox takes a deep breath, “The piece of shit must’ve put something in your head darling,” Vox stands up, “He won’t be around much longer, I’ll make sure of it.”

“It felt real…”

“What?”

“The dream it felt real... Have I ever met Alastor before? We never met him in life, right? Since he was here before us.”

Vox clenches his fist, “Darling, I assure you that you’ve never met that asshole in life. You spoke to him a few times during our partnership but other than that, no.”

“Oh… he just felt familiar… I wasn’t afraid of him in my dream…. Did he do something to me to be afraid?”

There… a moment of opportunity.

“You don’t remember sweetheart? I mean… you probably pushed it far, far away in the back of your mind…. I wouldn’t be surprised if you forgot it…. It’s probably for the better if I don’t remind you…” Vox looks away smiling sinisterly.

“Vox,” You take hold of his clenched hand, “how bad was it?”

Vox looks down at you, sitting back on the couch hugging you tightly, “Horrible…...I regret leaving you home that day…...I should have taken you with me, but you...” He moves himself back to take a look at you, “just looked peaceful sleeping. I didn’t want to bother you, you would have woken up in a while after I left.”

“alastor was coming over to chat, pick up documents that were on the table, then leave. I had forgotten…... and I left to go visit sponsors.”

“So…. Alastor did something to me…. while I was sleeping?!”

“NO! That guy is an asshole, but he wouldn’t stoop that low……… No, I wasn’t there when it happened but when I came home…. you were on the ground in front of my office doors. You weren’t breathing…...There was blood coming from your mouth, scratches on your arms, just blood, it was everywhere. The doors from the office were broken... I never felt more scared in all my years of life and death.” Vox held your face in his hands.

You tilt your head, “Why did Alastor do that?”

Vox looks around the room for a moment then turns to you, “After I made sure you were alright, you slept for about two days then you woke up. I asked you what happened, and you had told me alastor was looking for something more than documents. He was looking for the deals that I made with other souls. You see all he wanted was more power. He never cared about our business partnership. He wanted everything for himself. A selfish piece of shit. You heard him rummaging around from the other room and asked him what he was doing. He of course didn’t like it when people interrupted him. You tried to fight him off, tried to get him away from the room, but it didn’t end well. After alastor couldn’t find what he was looking for he left. He left you on the ground to die. Who knows what would have happened if I came home later rather than sooner!”

“I…I had no idea.”

“He doesn’t care who gets hurt. Nothing else matters to him but power. Power is all he wants, and because of that stupid reason.... you got hurt.”

Vox kisses you and you return the kiss.

“I don’t want him to hurt you again… I love you too much to ever lose you to him. Do you understand darling?”

You look away from his eyes, his hands hold your face tighter turning you to face him, “I just don’t want to lose you, please understand. I love you.”

“I understand vox.” He kisses you once more.

Something in the back of your mind tells you that his story doesn’t seem right.

It doesn’t feel real, but vox wouldn’t lie to you.

Would he?

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I finished my midterms! BUT!!! I have assignments :( I don't mind doing them I just don't like it when it's a lot but hey its college!

Hope everyone enjoyed reading! (again, sorry for the very very long delay!!!)

destinyisastar2024

Wordcount: 1552

taglist: @songbirdpond @diffidentphantom @vxllys @sirens-and-moonflowers @bethanythehazbinfan @martinys-world @quinceylikesanime @sweetsaladpainterranch @killer-nightmare0 @ginny-higgins @bi-incog-btch @motherofmischief

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #vox x reader #hazbin hotel angst #alastor angst #vox hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #x reader

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doiliedaze · 4 months ago

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Thin Ice: part one

Hockey! Vi x reader

Warnings: none in this part

Genre: fluff, angst

A/N: okay!! so this is my attempt in starting a series about hockey Vi based on this dream I had months and the Sailor Song by Gigi Perez and Moments by MOIO okay so wish me luck!! also none of my fics are truly edited I just re-read them till I can’t and pray my grammar is good. Reader is kinda naive/one track minded and very insecure in this. I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT HOCKEY SO BARE WITH ME!!

1, 2

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I’ve been skating since I was a little girl. It was the only place I could call home. Skating was the only place I was finally the smartest and brightest in the room since I was perceived otherwise academically…and I do lack a bit in the common sense area.

They say there’s a zone we enter when we’re aligning our energy with the activity we love. My alignment is when I soar through the air, or just don’t fall flat on my ass. I was heading to the rink when I was stopped.

“What are you doing here cupcake?”

When my eyes focus on her I was taken aback as I try to quickly study her. Why was my roommate here? “You know I practice here.” I state as I lace up.

She chuckled as she looks me up in down. I’m in a black bodysuit covered by a pink skirt and leg warmers over my matching pink skates, my coily hair put into a bun by a bow. “The practice is reserved for the hockey team. Did you not see the schedule posted outside?” She says with a small smile, I tilt my head “they changed the schedule?” Her smile flatters a bit and twitches as she points to the wall. I make an “o” shape with my mouth putting the pieces together. She pats my shoulders and skates away. In reparations of me fucking up I stay and watch.

Our college; Piltover university offers an array of extracurricular activities and in my three years of being here I’ve never known of this damn schedule changing!

Number 6, is an interesting player and my roommate. She brings an obvious aggression that the sport needs but she’s so swift and fast. I don’t know much about hockey but I do know she just scored so I might as well cheer for her right? Wrong! Getting stared at with the small but big enough snickers for me was enough to make me wanna to shrink and crawl into a hole and dissolve into a sunflower seed and sprout- well you get the point. This pushes me to attempt a swift exit.

When making my hurried exit she skates to the edge and whistles at me to get my attention. “Don’t leave, I appreciate having a personal cheerleader.” Her plump lips growing into a wolf-ish grin as she stares me down, always wanting a reaction. “Well I’m not a cheerleader I’m an ice skater! No disrespect to cheerleaders though I mean that takes a lot of courage, I know I could never-”

“It wasn’t a diss cupcake.” She stated before winking and skating away.

My face has never felt this hot before! Today is the day of utter shame and cruel unusual punishment. Now I have to figure out a new place to skate because I refuse to make the same mistake again…or read the time sheet next time who knows!

I make a routine out of avoiding the rink around 5-8 so I go during the wee hours of the morning. Kinda killing my sleeping schedule but hey pride am I right?

I don’t skate to be on a team, I prefer to be by myself and skate for me. It gets lonely sure but no one has ever supported me in doing this. All the slick comments of “oh why not be a majorette? On a step team? Why’d you stop stepping? You wanna be any race but black! Blah blah blah!” Don’t get me wrong those are beautiful activities in my culture but black girls can be everything and more at once. When I stepped it was fun and I could feel the unity but the feeling skating gave me made me feel like the most beautiful and the closest to my blackness. So when it came down to picking what I really wanted I chose skating, and been on my own since, because girls like me don’t belong here. Proving people wrong has been my biggest motivation, maybe I’m being a hard-ass but I don’t care; it feels good when I do it in the end.

This routine I was practicing was more than difficult…axels hate me and I hate axels but I’m trying to land a quadruple axel.

My mind relaxes as my chest thumps, today feels like the day…something I tell myself a lot. My momentum pushed as “Pearls” by Sade plays. I push off my left leg to project myself into the air. One…two…three…four-ish? My spin wasn’t complete and my landing was shaky, but I can try again. So I tried again and again! Frustrated I push myself, my skates cutting deep as I try to gain speed. Leaping into the air I spin one…two…three…four times! However I land flat on my ass. “Fuck!” I yell and I cover my face and I can’t control the wobble in my lip when I hear claps.

“And here I thought you were sneaking out to do something cool.” Vi states as she carefully glides over.

“I don’t need that right now.” I mutter, “company?” She lays on the ice with me.

Vi and I’s relationship is complicated. When we met in freshman year we hooked up then we ghosted each other. Sophomore year we both joined the literature club and gained a true friendship with a side of fucking whenever we’re both single. Now junior year I just feel distant with her.

She rubbed my cheek, “you don’t talk to me anymore.” I move from her touch…wishing I didn’t, I know reaching out is hard for her. “I’m sorry”

“Don’t be sorry do better” she stood up shoving her hands in her pockets. “C’mon we’re going out.” I know not to argue so I oblige.

“The library?” I scoff in a whisper, “we are English majors.” She nudges me with her shoulder and I nudge her back.

We find a cozy nook and read our respective books. The two of us haven’t hung out in so long. I didn’t realize how much I missed her. I take her book. “Hey!” She reaches over me. Her pale blue eyes stare into my dark brown eyes. A soft blush spreads over her freckled cheeks and her eyebrows soften. “I miss you” we both whisper then laugh. Vi moves from me and takes my hand.

I’ve never been the type of person to be comfortable around others, wanting to be apart of a team but with Vi…I want to try everything.

───────┈ · ·

A/N: im so excited to start this series!! I wanted to challenge myself and I hope you guys enjoy <3

(Dividers by @dollywons)

#vi x reader #scared femme writes #dazeduties #vi x black reader #hockey!au #hockey! vi #ice skater! reader #black! reader #black femme #college! vi #yes vi would be an English or engineer major she’s smart #dividers by dollywons #visdoilie #vi smau #vi arcane #butch vi #violet arcane

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daydreaming-nerd · 1 year ago

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The Bonds That Break Us (Rhysand x Female! Reader) Final Part

Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Request: "Would you do a Rhysand x fem!reader series? Maybe fem!reader is Rhysand's mate and Tamlin's sister? So secret love?"

AN: I'm sorry this took me a little while guys. I'm currently a sick college student without the funds for Dayquil so we've been struggling. I hope you all like this <3

Summary: It was almost as if the cauldron liked to play games, as if it had sensed years of boredom and predictability and begged to be entertained. Its method of absolving its melancholy? Mate the High Lord of the Night Court to the younger sister of the High Lord of Spring.

Warnings (so far): mentions of physical abuse, mentions of SA, major sexisim, SMUT, dirty talk, Oral (male and female receiving), Slight breeding kink?, angst,

Word count: 5475

(all photos are from pinterest)

I glanced through the crevice in the oak doors and beheld the most serene image I have ever witnessed, perhaps ever will witness. Candles lighted the room giving it a warm, faint, glow. The smell of night blooming jasmine filled the air and not a sound could be heard from the small chapel. Rhys stood tall and proud, a crown atop his beautiful head. All members of the inner circle stood around, getting ready to bear witness to the ceremony about to take place.

I smoothed my hands over my wedding dress once more. I had frantically gone shopping with Mor the day after Rhysand asked me to be his High Lady. With the council meeting to discuss my fate coming so soon we had no time for a grand ceremony, but I couldn’t have been happier with the way things had turned out. Even though the dress was last minute it was perfect, and I couldn’t have pictured anything else I would’ve married Rhys in.

If you’re having second thoughts mate we can always postpone, Rhysand’s voice crooned into my mind. I looked through the crack in the door to find a somewhat worried expression on his face.

“Far from it my love, I was just making sure I look perfect.” I giggle down the bond.

I’m dying to see you in a wedding dress.

I smile and decide not to wait any longer to fulfill his desires. I leave a light knock on the double doors signaling for the men on the other sides to open them up. Immediately all eyes are on me. Normally I would panic or flee or worse, but not tonight. Tonight I locked eyes with Rhys, admiring that unique shade of violet that pulled me in from the moment I set eyes on him. The aisle was short and within a few steps I was clasping hands with Rhys.

“You’re so beautiful mate,” he gushes, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“You clean up pretty good yourself mate,” I smile, squeezing his hands as we both turn to the priestess.

“We all gather here today to be witness to the union of these two fae, and the crowning of our new High Lady of The Night Court,” the priestess begins and turns to Rhysand, “Do you, Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, take y/n to be your wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”

Rhys regarded me with a familiar gaze, one he had cast a thousand times, but this time held a distinct quality. It was a look of pride, something I had never seen before him. I had never held such significance for anyone. His gaze conveyed a sense that I was everything he had ever desired, the missing piece in his puzzle—lost and now found.

“I do,” he smiled and a tear fell down his cheek.

The priestess turned to me, “Do you, y/n, Princess of the Spring Court, take Rhysand to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?” she said.

“I do,” I say to Rhys without hesitation. Down the bond I can feel joy in his heart rise.

“Y/n,” she begins again. “Will you swear the oath of High Lady?”

I smile and feel my nerves pick up but I answer truthfully, “I will,”

The priestess picks up a glittering crown and holds it in her hands. The large diamonds atop it remind me of the stars that lie over the Illyrian mountain. “Do you y/n promise to serve and protect the Night Court? Do you promise to uphold the customs and practices of its people? To lay down your life for the sake of this court and always act in its best interest whatever the consequence?” she asked me.

“I solemnly promise to do so,” I say assuredly.

“Then I crown thee, High Lady of the Night Court,” she says, placing the crown on my head, the weight of it comforting me. “And by the power vested in me, by our High Lord Rhysand of the Night Court, I pronounce you both husband and wife. Rhysand, you may kiss your wife and your High Lady.” the priestess mused.

“With pleasure,” he smiled before placing a hand on my cheek and pulling me in for a deep kiss. I couldn’t help but smile as I felt his rogue tear of happiness caress my cheek.

I broke the kiss and looked into his eyes as I raised a hand to cup his face. He was so handsome, so perfect and he was mine. All I could think of was one word, husband.

“Hell yeah I have a sister now!” Cassian shouted, picking me up and swinging me around before putting me down and engulfing me in a massive bear hug. I backed away to see Cassian’s happy face and then I felt a hand placed on my shoulder.

“We have a sister Cass,” Azriel crooned and I turned to give him a hug as well.

“Welcome to the family y/n!” Mor shouted, throwing her arms around me and it wasn’t long until the whole inner circle was giving me the world's longest group hug.

Not the inner circle anymore, my family. The word used to taste like venom in my mouth, my family had never loved me, never seen me as anything but a means to power. A marble mansion that was so empty and cold. But now I had this, this family. This marriage might not save me from the demands of Tamlin and Eris, and me being High Lady might not give me immunity from Beron’s wrath. But it gave me one thing, something to fight for, not just my mate, but my family.

The sun shined brightly in the Day Court like it did the last time I stepped foot here. Things had changed so much since then. Back then I had just met Rhys and he was begging me to just say his name. Now I walked in as his wife and his High Lady. Although my dress billowed behind me like I was going to a ball I had never felt more like I was going to war.

Azriel and Cassian flanked behind us, normally they didn’t come to council meetings but Rhys told me he meant what he said, that he wouldn’t let Beron and Eris take me from him. He was prepared to fight our way out of this chamber, and was prepared to kill every High Lord in here. The scary part is that he was perfectly capable of doing so, especially with Azriel and Cassian with us.

The room wasn’t abuzz with the usual chatter of High Lords and their companions when we arrived there. The second we crossed the threshold all eyes were on us. I couldn’t tell which drew their gaze the most, their princess of spring clad in black, the crown glittering atop my head, Rhysand’s death glare, or the Illyrians that flanked us. Each lord seated themselves presently, feeling our silent threat. Every lord but one.

“Night becomes you, sister,” Tamlin drawls from where he leans over the long table, Beron and Eris seated on his left, Lucien at his right.

“That it does, Tamlin,” I say, my words cold as ice. I feel Rhysand pluck at the bond showing his pride.

“Rhysand, y/n. Please be seated so we may begin the trial,” Helion said. I had always loved Helion, and I could tell he wasn’t happy about this arrangement. But for whatever reason this is where the trial would be held. We do as we are asked, Cassian and Azriel standing behind us as the chairs here are not equipped for wings. “Beron, Tamlin we will hear your case, then Rhysand you will be able to state yours. After that the council will decide who is at fault.” Helion explains and nods to Beron to begin.

“High Lord’s of Prythian I have brought this issue before you today because I wish to find a civil resolution to my case, rather than declaring war upon the Night Court,” Beron began. “A few weeks ago Tamlin and I had meetings discussing the betrothal of Eris and y/n. It had always been abundantly clear from that meeting forward that y/n belonged to Eris. All that stood in the way of formally announcing the engagement was solidifying the terms of the union, what we would give Tamlin in exchange for her and how many male heirs she would be required to bear Eris. She was the property of Eris Vanserra long before Rhysand ever tried to claim her.” Beron says with a confidence that I almost envy.

It took everything inside of me not to lash out at the word “property” and Rhysand’s grip on my hand told me it killed him inside as well. I can’t help but feel some sort of fear, these men only see me as a breeding vessel, they don’t care for my happiness and they don’t care for my well being beyond my ability to bear sons. I don’t stand a chance at going home with Rhys.

Shhh, I’ll never let them take you. I’ll burn this place to the ground if they even touch you. That beautiful, glorious voice cleaves into my mind and I let myself breathe again.

“And when did Rhysand make his claim on your sister?” Tarquin asks Tamlin, clearly still holding a grudge over the land dispute they had.

“It started a week ago today, when my sister came home from what I thought was the Winter Court. She came into my office and told me that the High Lord of the Night Court had deflowered her and that because of it she no longer wished to marry Eris Vanserra. Soon after Rhysand broke into my court, attacked me, and stole my sister away.” Tamlin said.

“You dirty fucking liar!” I stand unable to keep myself restrained anymore. I feel Rhysand’s hand grip my arm but I don’t care anymore. How dare Tamlin spew out such disingenuous claims in a trail such as this.

“You are not a member of this council you useless whore and you will not speak unless spoken to!” Beron shouts standing as well, the moment he does his eyes go wide and pain laces his face. Rhysand stands beside me and I realize that he has his talons in Beron’s mind.

“If you EVER speak of my wife in such a manor again, I will fucking kill you and every male heir you have Vanserra,” Rhysand booms, and even I feel a chill go down my spine.

“Wife?!” Tamlin shouts in a fit of anger, taking to his own two feet.

“And his High Lady,” I boast with pride and I scooch my hand to lay on top of Rhysand’s. All I can feel thrumming through the bond is pure male pride as the entire room begins to murmur their shock to one another.

“Impossible,” Tamlin seethes, getting ready to pounce as the room continues in their sock and surprise.

“Quiet!” Helion shouts above the crowd, and I don’t break eye contact with Tamlin. “All of you sit down now!”

We do as we’re told but it doesn’t dissolve the tension in the room as we all continue to stare daggers into one another. Tamlin tries to cover his shock with anger but hides it poorly.

“Rhysand, why did you attack Tamlin in his own court?” Helion asks calmly.

“Because he threatened my mate,” he growled. This time the room gave a collective gasp and would’ve gone into full blown panic had Rhys not continued to speak. “I found her injured, freezing and starving in the dungeons below the Spring Court. If we had this meeting sooner you would be able to see the bruise around her beautiful neck from where he choked her.”

Neither party speaks save for the buzzing mumbles circling the room that followed the word ‘mate’. For me to be mated to Rhysand was surely the most exciting and scandalous thing to happen in a hundred years. Kallias was the one to finally break the silence.

“The laws of mates are absolute, and we will not stand by and watch this council question Rhysand and y/n another moment!” Kallias shouts, standing hand in hand with Vivianne.

My head whips over to the High Lord and Lady and I expect to see something like pity in Viviane's eyes, but all I see is happiness and pride. Happiness for having finally found my mate, pride for having finally found the will to stand up for myself.

“I stand with Kallias and Viviane, if we don’t validate their mating bond, who's to say the council won’t stop with them.” Thessan says. “If I ever find my mate I don’t want to worry about them being taken away from me.”

A collective murmur of agreement comes over the room and it seems that a verdict has been decided. Helion stands and the scrape of his chair echos off the marble walls quieting everyone down.

“All those in favor of blessing the union of Rhysand and y/n?” he asks. Every single hand shoots up without hesitation, the only ones who don’t belong to the Spring and Autumn Court. “Rhysand and y/n. You have the blessing of this council.” Helion smiles.

I turn to Rhys smiling brightly as the whole council room erupts in applause. His violet eyes gleam with pride and for the first time ever he drops his mighty High Lord act and smiles back. I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him and I can hear Viviane saying “awww” from across the room. We break apart and I can’t help but stare at him. Free, I am finally free.

“YOU SELFISH WHORE!” Tamlin screeches and in a second he leaps across the table. He doesn’t get far before blue and red siphons are holding him back. “YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME!” he screams struggling against Cassian and Azriel’s power.

Rhys threw his body in front of mine and I put a hand on his shoulder and began to move past him towards Tamlin. He grabs my wrist and I turn to meet his violet gaze. His eyes laced with worry asking me to stay behind him.

“It’s okay,” I say quietly and Rhys lets go. I walk towards where Tamlin is still struggling and stand right in front of him. I can feel Rhys’ tension through the bond but I push it away. “You did this to yourself Tamlin. I wish things had been different, I really do. I could kill you right now, but I won’t. But if you EVER step foot in my court, I will send out my General, my Spymaster and my mate to find you and I will let them kill you in whatever way they deem worthy for a male such as you.”

Tamlin stops struggling, unable to fight against Cassian and Azriel any longer. For once in my life, I see true fear in his eyes. A male stripped of everything, his land, his power, his bargaining chip and now his pride.

I turn and take Rhysand’s hand and he leads me out of the council room, Cassian and Azriel flanking behind us in case Tamin gets any bright ideas again.

“My strong, smart, beautiful mate. I am so proud of you. You spoke like a true High Lady in there,” Rhys boasts as we walk down the hall.

“I feel like a High Lady now,” I laugh, squeezing his hand.

“Just wait till later, wife. I have every intention of taking you home and fucking you senseless while you wear nothing but that crown on your head.” Rhysand drawls low.

Rhys can hardly keep his hands off me as we burst into the townhouse. In fact he doesn't. I'm the one who has to open the front door because his fingers won’t stop dancing all over my waist as he leaves open mouth kisses all over my neck. If this was his reaction to me wearing a crown, best believe I would be wearing them a lot more often.

The door slams behind us and in an instant he has me pressed up against it already lifting my skirts.

“Rhys, Rhys wait there’s something I need to do first!” I protest as he attacks my neck.

“Yes, you need to do me first.” he smirks, kissing me again.

“Rhys stop!” I giggle pushing him off and he finally halts his movements. “Have a seat, I'll be right back.” I smile before disappearing into the next room.

I look around the kitchen and all I see are ingredients. I turn to make sure Rhys isn’t following me and find him sprawled out on the couch in a fit of utter frustration. I try not to giggle to myself as I raid the kitchen. Normally the townhouse makes food for us, so being in here is new. I keep opening up drawers and only finding utensils, towels and bowls.

“Wife, I'm dying in here!” Rhysand groans from the living room.

“One moment my oh so impatient husband!” I holler back.

My eyes land on a jar of strawberry jam and I snatch it up eagerly. I walk over to the bread box and pluck a slice from it. I place it on an ornate plate and begin to spread the jam on top as neat and perfect as can be before carrying it out to the living room where my husband is throwing his temper tantrum.

“Here,” I say, handing him the toast with jam. “I know it’s not much but it’s all that was lying around.”

Rhysand’s eyes light up as I present him with food that I made. He takes the plate carefully and looks at it, knowing full well what it means for a female to present her mate with food.

“You want to mate? Right now?” he asks bewildered.

“Yes,” I say without hesitation.

“You do know what you’re getting into right? I won’t act like…myself. We’ll have to go into the mountains for a while. I won’t be able to control myself,” he explains further and I can already feel the arousal pooling between my legs.

“Yes I know what I’m getting myself into. We can go into the mountains for however long we need. But I want our first mating to be here, in our home. Then we can winnow to the cabin. That’s my only stipulation,” I tell him.

“I will agree to that,” he replies.

I don’t even have time to say another word before he takes a couple bites of the pathetic toast I made him. While I watch him consume it, I’m sure that it’s the worst mating meal a female has ever presented to a male. Nonetheless, he eats it like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

His eyes flick up to meet mine and the plate is discarded on the floor with a crash. In mere seconds stands up and I swear to the gods he’s even taller than he normally is. His hand circles my waist and his touch sets me on fire, now that the mating bond has been accepted. His free hand tilts my chin up to him and he stares at my lips. I must look like a wanton whore begging for him to touch me.

“Mine,” he growls before searing our lips together. The word alone tells me everything he said before this is true. This isn’t just Rhys, it’s Rhys in his most primal form.

I whine into his lips and I feel him hoist me up in his arms with ease, despite the large amounts of tule that make up my dress. My hands are in his hair in an instant, nearly knocking the crown off his head and I grab it before it falls off. We start moving up the stairs as fast as Rhysand’s can carry us.

“Best believe the first time I fuck you as my mate it’s going to be in our marriage bed,” he smirks before slamming the door to our bedroom with his foot.

The second he talks about fucking me my skin is on fire and the buzzing sension I always felt when he was near was amped up times ten. Like if I didn’t get his cock in me right now I would burst into flames and die. He sets me down on my feet and I begin to undo the buttons of his shirt. I feel him fumble with the millions of buttons fastening the back of my dress before a deafening rip sounds throughout the room and those millions of buttons are being cast off in every direction.

I don’t even have a mind to care about it as the dress cascades down and pools on the floor. His mouth is all over my collar bones needy and leaving little bites all over me.

“You’re so fucking beautiful mate,” he groans between kisses.

I feel my crown slipping and I move to take it off but I feel Rhys’ hand stop me.

“What did I say earlier?” he asked.

“That you wanted to fuck me while I wear nothing but the crown,” I say meekly remembering his promise.

“No I said I was going to fuck you senseless while you wear nothing but that crown mate,” he groans kissing me deeply again.

I feel my legs hit the mattress and I fall back on it greedily. He stares down at me like I’m his own personal feast and he nearly pounces on me but I hold a hand up to stop him.

“I want to try something,” I say before he can ravish me again. “Something I read about in a book.” I explain further.

“Oh really? Well I won’t pass up that opportunity. What do you want me to do mate?” His voice is deep and husky.

“Just stand there,” I say before sliding off the bed and dropping to my knees in front of him.

His eyes blow wide as I stare up at him from under my eye lashes. My hands go to his pants where I expertly un-fasten them and pull them down his legs along with his underwear. He steps on them and watches me intensely as I’m face to face with his aching cock.

“Are you going to suck my cock wife?” he muses and the words go straight to my core as I wrap my hands around him and give a lick up his length.

The sound that comes out of him is nothing short of animalistic. It spurs me on as I take him the entire length of my mouth and start sucking. Whatever I can’t fit in my mouth I stroke with my hands and the look of pure bliss on him has me seeing stars. He so fucking beautiful. His muscles are dripping with sweat from the need to cum in me, his eyes are closed taking every stroke I give him, and his lips are parted having the softest wimpers escape them. He’s never been more beautiful than he is right now and I can’t help but moan, sending vibrations through his cock.

“Oh fuck mate!” he screams and his hands find the back of my head. I swear I’m so wet at the sight of him getting his pleasure from me that I might have left a wet spot on his carpet. I moan again to send another wave of vibrations through him.

“Shit y/n I’m gonna cum, let me cum inside you!” He shouts trying to remove my head from his member but I swipe his hand away.

I gently cup his balls and it has him emptying his load into my mouth. I work him through his orgasm staring up at him with the most innocent eyes. I pull my mouth off him and open it for him to see the evidence of his climax inside. I close it again and swallow, feeling the saltiness of it slide down my throat. I open my mouth again to show him that nothing was left and it has him spiraling.

“You cruel wicked thing,” he growls, picking me up and throwing me on the bed. His body crawls over mine and I run my hands down his bare chest, toned and perfect and all mine.

“Rhys I wanna try one more thing,” I whine but I’m silenced by his lips on mine.

“I think it’s my turn now mate,” he whispers in my ear, making me shiver.

He kisses down my neck and my collar bones. I feel his tongue swirl around each of my peaked nipples and I cry out at the friction I didn’t know I needed so badly. His mouth presses a kiss under my breast and when he reaches my lower stomach he looks up at me with a feral grin.

“I want you to know that I have every intention of getting you so thoroughly pregnant that every male in Prythian will have no choice but to recognize that you are my mate.” He growls, pressing a kiss over my womb. “But not tonight, and not anytime soon. For now I will take pleasure in showing them what an amazing High Lady you are.”

His mouth trails down and kisses either side of my bare thighs. His hand runs over my stomach and down my leg to hike one knee up over his shoulder to give himself access to where I need him most.

“Now watch how a High Lord eats out his High Lady, mate,” he grins before diving into me like a starved man.

I arch my back off the mattress and my hands fly to his silky hair. I accidentally tug his strands too hard causing him to groan, the vibrations stimulating my clit. He pulls his mouth off me and plunges his fingers inside me, curling them to hit that spongy spot that always left me undeniably breathless. He pulls his head back to watch how I take his fingers and his eyes catch on something.

“There’s that perfect clit,” he smiles slowly lowering his mouth over the sensitive bud so that his breath fanned it. “Show me those pretty little sounds you make when I lick it, wife.”

His tongue gives a teasing lick at the apex of me and I let out a moan that’s so high pitched it’s nearly embarrassing. He only chuckles before attacking the spot with a million little licks. The combination of his tongue and his fingers have me screaming his name in no time.

“Oh gods Rhysand!” I scream as I hit my climax. Tears sting my eyes from the immense pleasure. Rhys has always been able to pull orgasm after orgasm from my body, but the mating bond heightens everything.

“I need you,” he growls crawling back up my body. “Now”

I pull him close and I feel his hands flip my hips around so that I’m on all fours for him. I nearly groan at the feeling of him running a large hand down my spine.

“Rhys please,” I cry, pressing my ass into his hard cock.

“Shh, patience mate,” leans over and whispers in my ear. I feel his cock nudge my entrance and within a moment he is pushing himself into me.

The stretch is enough to have my chest heaving in pleasure, but the full feeling of him inside of me has me letting out a moan. His hands grip my hips as he starts to thrust inside of me.

“Always so fucking tight for me,” Rhys grits out increasing his pace.

“Harder Rhys!” I scream needing more of him.

It’s at that moment I realize that I’ll never truly get enough of him. He could shackle me to his bed and never stop fucking me and it still wouldn’t be enough. The need for him was too great, even before the mating bond. Before I even said his name. I had needed him the second I saw that flash of violet. I’ll never stop needing him.

“You’re fucking mine!” He growls as his grip on my hips tighten and the moans coming out of him are pure mated male.

“Oh fuck Rhys I’m gonna…” I shout my words trailing off.

“Cum for me mate,” he orders me and I oblige.

I climax so hard my vision blacks out for a second, my pussy contracting around him sending him sputtering and cumming inside of me with a roar and I swore the house shook. I collapse, burying my face into the pillow. I feel him gently turn my body over so he can see me. His eyes fall to where his cum is leaking out of me and he bends down to press a kiss to my clit again.

“Mine,” he says, eyes peering up at me.

He crawls up to me and pulls me on top of his chest stroking my hair.

“So it’s official, I am now your wife, your High Lady AND your mate.” I laugh.

“If I had more titles left to give you I would,” he chuckles, running his hands through my hair more.

“I don’t think I could ever ask for more than this, more than you.” I say pressing a kiss to his chest and leaning up so I was straddling him. He put his arms behind his head and stared at me like I was a work of art. “I love you so much Rhys. I only wish the gods had given me a million more ways to say it. But I can’t make it any simpler than that… I love you.”

“I know the feeling, sometimes I get frustrated because ‘I love you’ doesn’t even scratch the surface of what I feel for you mate,” he smiles.

I lean down to kiss him passionately, hoping that if words can’t tell him how much he means maybe actions can. I know they won’t. His hands slide from behind his head to my waist and my hair, pulling me deeper into him. My hips grind on his abs a little and I feel his hard cock brush up against my back side causing him suddenly to stop.

“We need to get to the cabin,” he says frantically. “Now.”

The cold mountain air grazes my skin as I sit on the bannister watching the sun come up. The silk bathrobe does little to keep me warm, but the breeze is refreshing. I glance through the window where I see Rhysand sleeping on the massive bed.

We had been holed up in the snowy mountains for a week now doing everything but sleeping. He wasn’t wrong about the Frenzy and how it would affect our ability to function as normal fae. One night I tried to prepare dinner for us and we lasted about 10 minutes before he took me on the kitchen counter. As I watched the sun rise on the glistening snow I couldn’t help but laugh at the fact that every surface in that cabin had been defiled in one way or another.

The birds began to chirp as I took another long sip of my warm tea. Never had I been so at peace. Never had I been so loved. It was as if every moment of my life had been leading to this one right here. To him.

I felt two warm arms snake around my front as Rhys placed a kiss on my cheek.

“You’re going to freeze to death out here,” he mumbles into my neck.

“No I’m not you big worry wart,” I giggle as his lips tickle my neck. I feel him wrap a blanket around the two of us and I lean back into his chest savoring the warmth of him.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, resting his head on top of my head.

“I’m thinking about how everything in my life led me to you. How I’ve never been more happy and at peace than I am in this court.” I say honestly.

“Your court my Lady,” he smiles, pressing another kiss to my cheek.

“Our court, Rhys,” I smile. “What do we do now?”

Rhys chuckles into my shoulder, “We go home, we rule, and you let me love you forever.” he whispers, kissing my shoulder.

I turn to face him, “I think I can live with that.” I smile.

(AN: wow I'm kinda sad that this series is over now. I feel like I'm going to me missing a huge piece of me :( I want to say thank you to all who read this and supported me, I never thought this would get as much love as it did. I hadn't written in so long, it feels so good to know that people still care about the things I dream up. Now I have some good news...

The next mini series is going to be about...

now drumroll please....

CASSIAN x Female! Reader

I'm so pumped to write this it's been in my head forever. Plot is that the reader is Rhysand's little sister and she is betrothed to Eris. So if you loved the secret love aspect of this series you're going to EAT UP the next one. If you would like to be on the taglist for it go ahead and let me know!)

Taglist: @crystalferret202, @heyyitsnat21 , @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson , @randomperson1234sblog , @local-fangirl09 , @bleh-81 , @annaaaaa88 , @tenaciousperfectionunknown , @judig92, @aunicornmademedoit , @sharknutz ,

@slytherintaco, @isa1b2h3, @nickishadow139 , @sarawritestories , @coisas-da-dani , @lovemesomevesey , @graceshifts , @writeroutoftime, @why4anne,

#rhys acotar #rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand angst #rhysand fluff #rhysand x reader smut #rhysand smut #rhysand acotar #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you

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warmilksz · 2 years ago

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😩How would they confess to you? 😳

Hello everyone it's been a while, I'm almost done with college 😁🎓 I can't wait to get out ong.

Anyway 😜 I hope this reading brightens your day, even if it's a little bit❤️

**just a disclaimer: take what resonates and leave what doesn't for others. Go with the flowwwww It's a general reading (⁠~⁠￣⁠³⁠￣⁠)⁠~**

Centering: if needed before selecting a pile close your eyes and inhale for 4 seconds. Hold whatever is on your mind. When ready, release the thoughts for 6 seconds. Repeat as needed and select the pile that calls to you 💕

1. I'm getting for this pile they would be hesitant to tell you but only because they seem so shy when it comes to their romantic feelings ( aww so cute🥺 ) You drive them crazy with your energy and u don't even realize how much of an effect you have on them and that just makes them more interested lol. You light up this person's world like dynamite 🧨. I feel so happy typing this lol I think that's their energy with you and they are ecstatic just to be in your presence but they may play it cool on the surface. So once this shy person works up the courage to show their honest feelings, They would probably approach you when you are in a nice mood and alone. To make sure it's just you two. For example, if you really like art, they would catch you while you were working on a fun project. Then all the excitement they feel for you will come up and manifest as stuttering and they may get really sweaty from the nervousness. idk why I'm saying this but cut this softie some slack pile 1 😭 ( are u a bully to them?😭)

2. Hmm this pile feels more solem than pile 1. Alot more serious this time. This person would show signs and u might get a feeling about their confession be fore they even tell you (😳) You may catch them staring at you lost in thought in the middle of a conversation or during a lecture or something similar. If you call them out they would be like " oh it's nothing" and pretend it didn't happen. Don't worry, this is just them sorting out their feelings so that when they confess they will be 100% sure about how they feel. They will think about their words and even when and where to tell you, they'll plan it all out. They seem like a serious person and they want to be sure about the person they like because they love hard and don't want to be hurt again ( aww 🤕) . The image I'm getting When it's time to confess is that they will want a private setting and be really close to you, they will maybe hold your hands and tell you that they like you and why.

3. For this pile, this person is confident. Don't get me wrong they are human lol so They have the normal nervousness that comes with confessing but they hide it well! Beneath the surface they worry you won't be impressed with them so they may put on a facade. In order to have you they will risk their pride and will fake it till they make it! They will be sure they like you when they confess and that they can be the person you want/desire in more ways than one (whoa 😳 ...) This person will do their best to sell themselves when they confess to convince you to give em a chance. They may mention how they can take you shopping, drive you around in fancy cars and can make you yell their name if u catch my drift (they want you bad 🤭) if you were to reject them they would have a "whatever, idc" vibe Infront of you and then cry when they are alone😭 It's interesting because they appear kinda desperate for you but also as if they dont care if u reject them, but we know that's just a front 🤭. 4. Whoa this person is kinda funny lol. They might joke a a lot with you and you will already know this person when they confess. They feel familiar like a friend, this my friends to lovers pile 😉.They probably the type to send you random memes during the day. In any case they may be self-depricating tho 😭. Kinda like pile 1 they will be nervous but they are also scared of your reply because you guys will be close friends when they confess. But they seem to be determined to let you know so they are gonna stick it out till the end (gots to see it thru ma boy) They will approach you as if they are just trying to hangout with you and then after buttering you up with a few jokes they will drop the fact that they like you . If they are really playful it can probably come off as a joke and you may have to pry (I see you asking them "what do you mean by **insert flirtatious joke here**"🕵️‍♀️) to get them to clearly say "I like you"😭. Thanks for reading

#pick a pile #future spouse #future spouse pick a card #pick a picture #anime #intuitive readings #love reading #pick a card #pick an image reading #tarot community #tarot #peach girl

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poomphuripan · 10 months ago

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EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW: My Stand-In’s Up & Poom get candid about the hit Thai drama

First of all, we would like to congratulate you guys on the success of My Stand-In. And we are only 6 episodes in! How does it feel?

Up: Thank you very much! I promise it will get better and even more intense in the following episodes!

Poom: We’re very happy with the results thus far. Everyone worked very hard on this project, including the cast and crew, who all wanted to produce a great work that fans would enjoy.

Ming seems to have changed a lot when the new Joe sees him. But do you feel that he has sincerely changed and realised his mistakes?

Up: As the one who plays Ming, I really think he has sincerely changed, but does he actually realise his mistakes- I would say you guys gotta stay tuned for the subsequent episodes to find out!

Poom: From the viewer’s perspective, it is clear that Ming has changed when it comes to treating Joe. However, his personal traits remain the same – still being somewhat selfish. What stands out is his love and patience for Joe.

Despite everything Ming has done, we see Joe starting to melt a little especially when he sees that Ming has been waiting for him all these years. Do you think Joe should give him a second chance?

Up: I would say he should! He wouldn’t know what happened to Ming during those two years, what he has been through and how much he suffered.

Poom: Joe might still be confused because, for him, that process might be two years to Ming but it felt like it was just a day ago for Joe since he was in a coma. He might need time to think and observe Ming further. Deep down, I believe Joe will eventually forgive Ming.

If you guys could meet Joe and Ming in real life, what would you like to tell them?

Up: I would tell Joe to keep on fighting and grinding, you got a lot on your shoulder right now, but I know it will pass! For Ming, please stay calm and control your emotions. Everything will get better if you balance your heart and mind.

Poom: I wouldn’t say anything to Ming because I wouldn’t dare to approach him. For Joe, I would like to encourage him, to believe that the bad times will soon pass, and to wish for his happiness.

No spoilers but how do you guys think fans will react after watching the finale?

Up: No spoilers but it’s just gonna get more intense right till the finale so buckle up and be prepared for any possible plot twist!

Poom: I’m pretty sure fans will cry due to the mix of emotions—happiness, sadness, joy, and relief.

My Stand-In has quite a lot of emotional scenes. How do you recharge after filming such scenes?

Up: To be honest, emotional scenes are energy-draining, and as an actor, we will need to recharge. However, I think it’s important and healthy to handle emotional scenes correctly, as it can sometimes permanently damage the actors’ and actresses’ emotional health.

One thing I love the most about working on emotional scenes with Poom is that we pass positive energy to each other even before the scene starts. We would find each other and hold hands or hug each other before filming these scenes, and that helped us pass through almost any difficult scenes.

After we ended work each day, we would take a quick trip before going home to a nearby restaurant just to get a light meal and talk about the scenes (we filmed). That definitely helped us recharge and get rid of any negative energy we might encounter each day we were filming My Stand-In.

Poom: Definitely felt a sense of relief completing them, as there was a sense of anxiety about the heavy emotional scenes beforehand, and also letting the characters’ stories unfold.

Your reactions to watching My Stand-In were hilarious. When you watch your own shows do you watch it as a fan or are you critical about your acting?

Up: Actually I do in both perspectives. We watch it as a person who would like to enjoy a good show which is usually while filming the reaction videos. However, when we are alone we would watch it and criticise our own acting and what we can do to improve in the future. We share this common goal and passion for our acting career, and we truly believe that self-development is critical in this career path.

Poom: I normally do like to watch my own performance to analyze whether it was a good job or not. If there are areas for improvement, I will note them down and make adjustments in the future. For the good parts, I work on enhancing them further.

Is there anything new that you’ve learned about yourself while filming My Stand-In?

Up: I really enhanced and further developed my skills in acting. I felt that I got more mature in my acting career. But the best thing I felt that I got from filming My Stand-In is that I got to play it with the best partner I could ask for, Poom who shared the same goal, passion and vision for this career path. I would like to thank him very much for being such a great partner.

Poom: I learned that when you commit to something sincerely, no matter the outcome, you’ve done your best. Effort never betrays anyone.

When you are not working, what is it that you like to do in your free time?

Up: If I get a day off (which rarely happens), I would just wake up and enjoy myself with a good book and cup of coffee. Or even go out for a round of golf with my friends.

Poom: I like to sleep, watch a comedy, listen to music, and play some games.

Your roles in My Stand-In are quite different from what you guys have done before. As actors, what is it that attracts you when you are deciding on a new project like My Stand-In?

Up: Being someone I couldn’t be in real life challenges me to grow as an actor, and every role I take on gives me the chance to try new things. I’m therefore quite open to new and difficult opportunities and that’s how I decided to work on this project.

Poom: As an actor, this project is very interesting because the character has a lot of emotional depth and many interconnected stories. The characters are quite complex, and the fun script and good production made it very appealing.

Up, you have a knack for picking up projects that tend to go viral such as Girl From Nowhere and Lovely Writer. And now My Stand-In! Did you know they would become hits back then or was it a surprise?

Up: It was all a surprise, the only thing I aimed to do was to continue developing my acting skills ever since my early years in this career. One thing I truly believe is that no matter how long it takes, your skill and talent will eventually be noticed.

Poom, it must have been quite a struggle since the pandemic happened right during the start of your career. So, what motivated you to keep going and find your success?

Poom: Love for acting, respect for the profession, and the joy of doing it.

After such challenging roles, what would you guys like your next projects to be? Something funny, lighthearted? Or similarly dark and full of angst?

Up: Actually we talked about this too. We would take up any opportunity presented to us. Because with a great partner, no matter the role we’re taking on, we know we will give it our all and do our very best to become a better version of ourselves.

Poom: Every project is challenging because each character is different. If possible, other than having a great partner back with me, I would like to try a project with even more action scenes.

Well, we have been loving every minute of My Stand-In and will definitely be tuning in for the upcoming episodes. Any last words for your fans?

Up: Thank you very much for all your love and support, without you guys, we wouldn’t be here today. Please stay tuned for My Stand-In! And we hope that you will love all the characters as much as we love them! Thank you!

Poom: I have nothing to say but thank you. I feel deeply grateful and appreciate the fans very much. Everything we do is to make the viewers happy and entertained. If everyone enjoys it, we are happy too. Finally, I want to thank the fans because, without them, I wouldn’t be here today. Thank you.

#my stand in #poom phuripan #up poompat #my stand in the series #i love this interview

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jooniesficrecs · 2 years ago

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enhypen fic rec

last updated 21/6/23

favourites marked with a ♥

✦ — ot7

enhypen reaction to you being special mc on music — @yeeunjia

idol!enha x idol!fem!reader

enhypen giving you gf privilege — @n1k1tty

✦ — hyung line

no nut november — @jayflrt ♥

contains smut !!

social media au

summary : four men suppressing their carnal instincts for thirty days doesn’t sound plausible, but it’s no nut november, so victory is crucial. yet, there’s only one obstacle keeping lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, and park sunghoon from their prize: you. game on, boys.

✦ — lee heeseung

give it time — @heesdreamer ♥

playgirl!au x inexperienced!hee

a few sexual scenes but no full smut !!

14.03k words

summary : being jakes twin sister, your reputation followed you around wherever you went. add on the fact you were a known man eating playgirl with a thing for nerds and you were heeseung’s worst nightmare

first date — @heesdreamer ♥

part of give it time universe

contains smut !!

4.1k words

summary : yn gets jealous when a waitress flirts with heeseung on their first date and decided to show her who he belongs to.

fear of spiders — @heesdreamer

spiderman! heeseung x reader

3k words

summary : you’re pretty sure that your quiet and mysterious roommate just might be a serial killer… plus he’s weirdly afraid of spiders

✦ — park jeongseong

ave general — @heetendo

historical/roman! au, roman general! jay, husband! jay

contains smut !!

12.7k words

summary : after your husband returns from the wars in foreign lands, you could not be more proud to see him be the shining pride of rome. however, even among the celebrations and your own personal news, jay park only wanted one thing — some time alone with you.

study lessons — @jaeyunverse ♥

jock x tutor, strangers2lovers, slight rivals2lovers, mutual pining (kinda), high school au

12.3k words

summary : so jay got piss drunk at jungwon’s party, lost his balance, tripped, and fell off the second floor balcony. now, he’s got a broken leg, a plummeting social status and a doctor’s note that orders him to abstain from all upcoming football matches till his bones mend. too bad he doesn’t possess the power to superheal and won’t be able to play when a recruiter from the college of his dreams comes to watch. left with nothing but regret, broken dreams and a shitty gpa (because why would he study when his coach told him he was guaranteed a sponsored ride to indiana university), he’s forced to bury his nose in textbooks and finally learn what the fuck integrals are. it’s a good thing the school was considerate (and sympathetic) enough to assign him the best tutor on the entire campus—you. the small hiccup in this arrangement? you hate jocks, but jay thinks you look cute.

the a-list — @jayflrt ♥

park jongseong x fem!reader (ft. park sunghoon), gossip girl au, rich kid au, fake dating au, friends2lovers

contains smut !!

10.2k words

summary : life seems to finally be going your way. that is, until your boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend is back, and gossip girl appears to be out to get you. but there’s only room for one queen bee in the upper east side, and with a hand from your best friend, park jongseong, you’re going to make sure it’s you.

✦ — sim jaeyun

the switch project — @jaylaxies

contains smut !!

photographer!jake x lingerie model!reader, rivals2fwb

5.3k words

summary : being the top model for your company was something you had grown accustomed to, alongside your photographer, jihoon, always placing number one on the 'monthly evaluation list'. just opposite to jake not being accustomed to be placed second. so when company announced 'the switch project', jake had to turn the tables for him. the hard part? you're his partner and you hate him.

to all my firsts with you — @jayflrt

jake x fem!reader, college!au, strangers2lovers, mutual pining

7.3k words

summary : first kiss. first date. first love. first heartbreak. with jake, your timing would always be off—like thunder following lightning—barely missing the other by seconds.

alternate ending — to all my firsts (and forevers) with you

jake sim x fem!reader, established relationship, college au

1.5k words

✦ — park sunghoon

back off — @delcakoo

sunghoon x fem!reader

1k words

summary : after wandering off at the grocery store, sunghoon is less than pleased to find some stranger trying to ask you out on a date. but don’t worry, he’s ready to put the guy in his place!

little lucky charm — @ddeonuism

slytherin!sunghoon x ravenclaw!gn!reader, hogwarts!au

2.4k words

summary : if there was one person who loved quidditch as much as sunghoon, it was you, ravenclaw’s own quidditch geek. from a friendship formed by mutual love for the sport, it’s truly a mystery how you didn’t join you own house’s team. but hey, at least your extensive knowledge on the sport helped him and his team with their playstyle, considering you were always present during the team’s training anyways. after all, you were his own little lucky charm and the sole reason why slytherin has been winning the quidditch cup for five years in a row.

✦ — kim sunoo

scammed!? — @amakumos

non-idol! sunoo x fem! reader, smau

summary : after losing to your friend patrick in a game of fashion famous on roblox, your punishment is to send that one incredibly stupid and very unconvincing “scammer” copypasta using a burner account to your longtime crush - fashion major, kim sunoo. after asking for your phone number, sunoo realises that you’re his classmate from a few years ago that he sees at the cafe often, and maybe you’re the person that he’s been harbouring feelings for - despite how he cringes when he sees your mismatched socks.

✦ — yang jungwon

attention, please! — @eeunoia ♥

rugby player!jungwon x reader

9k words

summary : you are assigned to write the article about the Belift rugby team and had the chance to get close to the the team captain.

kiss cam — @duskwon

yang jungwon x fem!reader, frenemies2lovers

3.8k+ words

summary: you were fully prepared to be single on valentine’s day. yang jungwon was fully prepared to blow your mind.

✦ — nishimura riki

shoot! — @amakumos ♥

friends2lovers, idiots2lovers, social media au + some written chapters

idol!riki x fem!reader

number one rule of having online friends: don’t fall in love with them. but after one year of being friends with cheolsoo, someone you met while playing co-op with in genshin, the little fluttering feeling in your stomach every time he texts you is too hard to ignore. so, after a year of talking and being friends, you and cheolsoo finally decide to meet - but then you realise that “cheolsoo” is actually nishimura riki, a famous kpop idol. so now, you have to deal with having the fattest crush on someone you basically don’t even know. shoot.

sixteen eighty-five — @prettywon

nonidol!riki x gn!reader

6k words

summary : you and riki were the hardest workers on the newspaper staff. despite this, you two are never to be seen working together. he avoids you and you avoid him, until you're both put up for the task of running the "Love Seekers Column." as the column gains popularity, so do you and riki, and no good can come from that.

amortentia — @nikihoon

slytherin!riki x fem!reader, modernhogwarts!au, strangers2lovers

1.5k words

summary : riki would do anything to have his crush notice him, so he tries his hand at making a love potion.

#enhypen fic recs #enhypen #enhypen x reader #park jongseong x reader #lee heeseung x reader #sim jake x reader #park sunghoon x reader #kim sunoo x reader #yang jungwon x reader #nishimura riki x reader #jooniesficrecs !!

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naomihatake · 1 year ago

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In search of freedom (Ch. 6)

6. Where are you when I need you the most?

⠀⠀➺ fic masterlist

⠀⠀➺ Chapter 5 ; Chapter 6 ; Chapter 7

⠀⠀⠀⠀She's been searching for freedom her entire life and everytime she thought it was laying right in front of her eyes, she was mistaken. She was running around the East Blue, seeking herself and her dreams, meeting people she never forgot. No matter how much she traveled, she could only catch a glimpse of peace before realizing everything would crumble at her feet.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Maybe it was destiny that brought her on that ship with three strangers — foolishly, that's what she tried to believe when the moon shined beautifully and hope settled in her chest, squeezed by the same ribcage where feelings were blooming.

Pairing: female!reader x OPLA Zoro Roronoa

Warnings for this chapter: angst, graphic depictions of deaths and fatal wounds, vomiting, self-harm, brief suicidal mention, canon-typical violence. (proceed with caution since it's getting a tiny bit gore)

Word count: 9,1 k (I'm proud of myself tbh)

Theme song: fic spotify playlist (click on the link)

A/N: I'm sorry for appearing with a new chapter 9 days later and I hope the wait was worth it. I dropped more details about the Witch's past in this chapter and some interesting interactions with her other crewmates. The next week I'm free, which means there's a chance I might most two charters until next Sunday <3.

I'm always open for opinions and comments. Whatever you want to tell me, just do it, even all you feel like doing is leaving a heart in my comments or inbox. Every interaction is appreciated and thank you so much for sticking to this story till now <3

The reader is referred to as "Witch" because I have no intentions of using "Y/N".

A warm palm touched her shoulder and squeezed reassuringly, but with no effect. The witch turned her head towards Luffy, her glassy eyes betraying her. It made their captain frown with worry. The sound of her real name slipping from between his lips stung worse than expected.

"It'll be alright," he smiled. "Zoro is a strong swordsman."

With horror painting her features, she shook her head and placed her shaking hand over his, gripping gently.

"You don't get it, Luffy, do you?" her voice came out like a whisper. "It's not just any dwell and that man isn't just any swordsman. I've seen plenty of people dying in front of my eyes, the crew I used to be part of, they didn't hold a chance against—"

She sank her teeth in her lower lip and looked up, blinking away the tears. Her breath was shaking and the grip on Luffy's hand got tighter. Slowly, she inhaled deeply, body trembling as her lungs swallowed the morning cold breeze.

Both Usopp and Luffy were frowning, listening intently to her words.

"This won't end well," she concluded. "He willingly got himself in danger. Zoro is nothing but some prey for Mihawk."

Luffy's sympathetic gaze didn't help her, it didn't ease her worries as he hoped. Her panic was fed by each single thought passing through her head, by each memory making a nest in the present.

"I've met one single Warlord in my entire life and he destroyed half of the strongest crew I ever knew at that time. I know who they are, I know their tactics, I know they're not to play with."

Both of her hands were clasped around Luffy's shoulder, turbulent eyes meeting his. The tips of her nails dug lightly in his skin, but he didn't wince or move.

"Yes, we are strong, but still not strong enough for them," the witch intentionally lowered her voice so it wouldn't crack into sobs. "Please tell me you know I didn't argue with him because I like to. Please tell me you get what I mean, Luffy. I'm scared."

She was barely aware of her admission, but it was hard to hold back. The witch wasn't a scaredy-cat, she didn't run away, pride filled her being all too well to ever lose a battle, be it against herself or others. That time, however, she was scared out of her mind for the swordsman.

Luffy gave her the sweetest smile she's seen in ages and squeezed her shoulder again. "He will be alright."

She let her head tilt forward, hands falling back to her sides. His faith was greater than her fears, but he couldn't erase the panic settling in her bones.

"You have no clue how much I wish you were right."

It hurt. Her chest hurt and something was crawling up her throat, differently than back in Syrup Village. It made her feel nauseous, it bubbled in her stomach and gripped at her neck, it constricted her lungs and air punctured their tissue.

Zoro just walked out of the galley exactly when the sun could be barely seen rising up from the waters. The bandana was wrapped around his head and his earrings chimed like a melody, making her head turn towards him.

The same horrified gaze from hours ago was stuck on him and yet he chose to ignore her, passing by without even casting a glance.

She stood there when Usopp, Luffy and Zoro walked by, her back turned to them. The witch had to collect the pieces of her broken heart before daring to glance at a list fight on the swordsman's side. Mihawk was already waiting for them right in front of the restaurant.

She couldn't watch another dear person die. Not again.

Her fingers dug painfully into her palms, until her nails left crescent marks on the skin, until it hurt so badly the tears in her eyes couldn't fall. Their synchronized steps beat like drums, just like her heart.

Everything was blurred out. She didn't dare look until she heard swords clashing. Like a snap, her head turned.

Mihawk stopped Zoro's attack with one small knife.

He had no chance against the warlord, just like she guessed.

No, she thought. I can't be pessimistic now. Maybe at least he'll get out alive—

But pirates don't just let their dwell partners live, the other side of her conscience commented.

Each one of Zoro's attacks were either stopped or dodged so easily by Mihawk, who seemed like he was playing rather than fighting. He was so light on his feet, body moving like a feather between Zoro's blades.

The warlord sent her green-haired crewmate flying back with a mere push of his knife when he blocked yet another one of his attacks. When Zoro got back to his feet and rushed towards him, Mihawk continued dodging each one of his attacks.

The witch could only hear a muffled conversation from a distance. She didn't even notice when Nami passed by her until she saw orange strands of hair bouncing in her vision.

The navigator didn't come from the restaurant, as she should've since she searched for a drink — or that's what she said. She walked from the other side of the dock. Her hands trembled by her side and she walked slowly, fearfully, her body so stiff, until she stopped behind Luffy.

The witch focused for so long on Nami, her gaze fell on Zoro only when the right side of his chest was penetrated by Mihawk's knife.

Air got stuck in her throat and time stopped in its tracks. Her feet were stuck right where they were and she couldn't move an inch.

Zoro, his name lingered in her thoughts, the sound of it along with the sweet chiming of his golden earrings.

Time stretched like an elastic. Seconds passed by at an agonizingly slow pace, as if the Universe itself decided to torture her with that image.

Swords. Corpses. Blood. Fear.

The witch let out a shaky breath while she trembled like a leaf in the breeze.

Zoro made a step back, the knife slipping away from his flesh. With a few other steps, he fell to his knees, with his swords digging into the wooden battens to keep himself steady.

Mihawk curled his fingers around the hilt of the sword on his back.

It seemed like he decided to end it all right then and there.

The witch didn't know if it was her imagination when Zoro seemed to glance towards her for a brief moment. All she knew was that her heart sank into her stomach and she could hear the audible cracks of her soul. The green-haired man took his white sword, placing it in between his teeth.

His gaze moved back to Mihawk so quickly she could barely register it. Her stomach turned upside down and her chest tightened when she saw Zoro rotating his other two swords faster than the brain was able to comprehend.

Mihawk and Zoro jumped into the attack at the same time. She didn't know if their swords collided or not.

Zoro fell to his knees again, panting. The swords in his hands crumbled into pieces all the way to the hilt, right in the middle of the runes the witch drew hours ago on the blades. His Wado Ichimoji fell from between his teeth.

He didn't stop there. Of course that fucking idiot didn't stop. He used the white sword to get up, resting his weight into it until he finally stood straight again, turning to Mihawk. Carefully, he sheathed his Wado Ichimoji.

With his arms held in the air and hands curled into fists, Zoro didn't let go of his word as he proudly admitted:

"Wounds on the back are a swordsman's greatest shame."

The warlord said one word the witch didn't hear and then, with a swift motion, his sword cut deeply through Zoro's chest.

The green-haired man fell on his back, eliciting a shout of his name from Luffy.

Zoro.

His name was all the witch could hear while she rushed to his side, tears blurring her vision, tears she couldn't afford to show.

Just like he did a few moments ago, the witch got to her knees, eyes focused on the t-shirt getting soaked in Zoro's blood.

"Fucking dammit," she spoke in a hoarse voice, hands trembling.

He was bleeding heavily, the dark blue nuance of his shirt replaced by dark crimson. The wound started from under his left clavicle and curved through his chest, all the way to the right side of his ribs. Without a second thought, the witch took off her unbuttoned shirt and folded it, just to press the material on his large wound.

"Monkey D. Luffy," Mihawk said. "what's your goal?"

"I'm going to become the King of the Pirates," Luffy responded through gritted teeth.

The witch's burning gaze raised to the warlord who stood tall meters away, putting his sword back in place on his back. Her fingers ached to touch her revolvers and shoot holes through that man until she's satisfied, until the monster lurking in the depths of her soul had its blood thirst quenched. However, her hands remained pressed against her shirt, trying her best to stop Zoro's bleeding.

She's always been revengeful when people dear to her heart were harmed. Revenge she never denied, a trait of hers she's accepted long ago.

"That's a much more treacherous path than even defeating me. This world could use a few more wild cards."

"Go fuck yourself," the witch let out with wrath burning in her eyes.

She clenched her jaw and her eyebrows knitted together into a deep frown. Anger filled each corner of her being, blinding her almost all the way up, filling her to the brim.

One more drop and she would lash out.

Zoro's safety was more important than her rage and she was completely aware of that. The wounded swordsman was the only reason why she stood still by his side.

"It's too soon for him to die," and with that, Mihawk's gaze fell back on the green-haired man. "Roronoa Zoro, grow strong and come find me. I'll be waiting."

Fucker, the witch's thought wasn't voiced out that time while the warlord walked away.

"Luffy," Zoro spoke in such a soft voice.

The witch and Luffy immediately looked back at him. He was struggling to breathe properly, that mere motion probably making his entire body ache painfully.

"If I fail to become the world's greatest swordsman," he faintly spoke, barely able to open up his eyes. After some greedy gulps of air, he continued: "you'll be disappointed. Right?"

With a shaky breath, Luffy smiled at him as tears gathered in his eyes.

"You could never fail me."

The witch could feel her body shake when she realized the swordsman's life was hanging on a thread.

"Never again. From now… until I beat him," Zoro continued talking in between panting.

The witch wished she could tell him something, anything, but all she could do was continue pressing her shirt over his wound. Looking at him in that state made her heart squeeze in the cage made of ribs, wishing she could be in his place and take his pain away.

With trembling hands, he somehow managed to draw his Wado Ichimoji out of its scabbard, holding it up as he looked up at the blue sky.

"To become the greatest swordsman… I will never lose again!" he let out with a shaky breath, voice scratching at the witch's eardrums.

One of her hands curled around his shoulder and squeezed firmly, intending to bring his attention to her only for a second.

"I'm sorry about what I said, alright?" she gulped down hard, her voice cracking. "You need to live, yeah? I know you'll become the greatest. I'm sorry, Zoro, I'm sorry."

She was sorry for lashing out at him. If they were to part ways in that moment, then she'd rather make sure he never believed she was mad at him, that she didn't hate him even for a second. It was a feeling her heart wasn't capable of harboring towards him — never him. She would've ripped her ribcage open and given him her heart if she could.

The witch could only hope his tired and pained self heard her words, even as his eyes closed immediately after his arm dropped to his side along with the sword.

"You better stay alive," she whispered while looking down at him.

Her words became muffled from his perspective. All he heard was his name being spoken multiple times by Luffy and Usopp.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

The witch has been sitting on the floor of her shared room with Nami for a while now, ever since the navigator started reading. Zoro laid unconsciously on her bed, bandages wrapped around his torso. For a long time, she didn't even dare look at him.

She will be eternally grateful for Zeff's help — the chef cook of Baratie who snitched Zoro up and told them to do whatever was necessary to keep him alive, be it telling stories or singing sea shanties.

Despite the fact that Zoro's wound wasn't bleeding anymore, her heart still screamed at her.

With knees pulled up to her chest and her forehead resting in between them, she wrapped her arms around her stomach, subconsciously protecting herself from God-knows-what. She couldn't sleep either, despite listening to Nami's alluring voice as she read from a book.

The bandage on her upper arm was worn out and it's been longer than a day since Zoro wrapped it. It was dirty with blood from the time when she intentionally squeezed it before sobs could leave her lips.

Nami stopped reading, but the witch didn't register the lack of sounds surrounding her until she heard a voice. She didn't bother to raise her head, keeping her eyes closed as she responded:

"Can you say that again? Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

"Pull yourself together," Nami whispered.

The witch knew that if she'd look up, she'd see a scolding or maybe a worried pair of blue eyes staring at her.

"I will when the situation asks for it," plainly, she dismissed the navigator. "Until then, I couldn't give less of a fuck."

She was aware of her position, of how small she looked, curled like a ball against the wall, hugging herself and praying to every God she knew that the swordsman would wake up. It was pathetic, but there was no wiser way to hide her overwhelming pain. Wrapping around herself sounded like the most helpful option.

"There are a few things you two should talk about when he wakes up," Nami closed the book with a small thud.

"I'd tell anyone anything if I knew he'd wake up," this time, her voice trembled lightly.

The witch swallowed the lump in her throat that's been sitting there uncomfortably for hours, with no positive effect. The only way to even her breathing was by holding the air in her lungs for a few seconds and letting it all go with a long exhale.

"Nami."

Only then, the witch raised her head. She looked deplorable, with disheveled hair and sunken eyes, dark circles under them from the lack of sleep. Her chapped lips were red because she ripped the skin off with her nails again. There was no sign of life on her face.

Obviously, she's had better days. Everyone did, probably.

"Maybe it's because I'm sorrow-drunk and can't bring myself to hide it anymore, but I have to tell you something."

She's been debating on whether or not she shall tell Nami about her suspicions ever since she pulled out those two cards out of the tarot deck.

"I know you're hiding something, but you can't hide it from me."

The truth has been spoken. With her heart beating loudly in her eardrums and threatening to break her ribs, she continued.

"I know. You're planning betrayal."

The navigator's eyes widened as panic flooded in her soul. The orange haired woman had no clue where all this came from, didn't know how fuck she found out about that, when and why—

"I didn't tell anyone."

"Aren't you getting ahead of yourself?" came out Nami's sharp response.

"I never expected you to admit it, if I am to be honest."

The witch rubbed her palms over her face and sighed heavily, as if a weight was pressed on top of her body.

"I also know there's more to the story. I don't know what or who you're protecting yourself from, I have no clue exactly why you're doing all this, but there's one thing I know for sure: the world is sitting on your shoulders, yet you refuse letting us help you carry it."

Nami stiffened in her chair. Her back straightened and her empty gaze pushed the witch out of her thoughts.

"Are you jumping to conclusions because of some stupid cards?"

"They definitely know more than me."

"Did you read you should treat your paranoia in there too?"

"While I admit there are times when I have crippling anxiety," the witch calmly stated, "I'm one hundred percent sure this isn't just a fairy tale. It's your choice to tell me or continue to keep it for yourself."

"But?" her voice lowered dangerously close to snapping.

"But we're not your enemies, Nami, and you know that well."

Not an answer the navigator expected, definitely.

"Zoro is unconscious on the bed and you're talking in metaphors — have you all gotten insane on this ship?"

"If I did, it was long before stepping on The Going Merry," the witch let out a stiffled laugh.

She dropped her forehead on her knees again, squeezing herself tighter in the embrace. The witch wasn't any less panicked than Nami, since opening up such a discussion scared her deeply. It was better than hiding and lying, though, and it felt less guilty.

"Why did you tell me this?" Nami asked with a whisper. "Be it right or wrong, why would you?"

"You don't deserve to be lied to, Nami. It makes me feel bad — hiding this from you made me feel like garbage from the start."

Even then, a gram of her guilt vanished.

"You're weirdly honest. You're aware this will haunt you one day, aren't you?"

"It's been haunting me since I got born," a sour smile painted the witch's face.

"The devil must've put some kind of curse on you."

"I only believe in evil spirits, sorry."

She didn't know where that soft laugh came from. Maybe it was her way of copying with the anxiety, with the pain. All she knew was that she hoped Nami wouldn't hide from them forever.

"Is there anything else you want to accuse me of?"

Faster than Usopp's snapping, Nami was once again serious, and the witch didn't have to look at her to figure it out.

"I never accused you. I know I'm right, but I'm not aware of the entire truth. You, on the other side, are aware of your own reality and I believe in your judgment. I hope you'll make the wisest decision and I'm saying this from the bottom of my heart."

"That's rich coming from someone so suspicious."

She's always been that way, the witch had to admit it. It wasn't only anxiety or tarot readings, there were times when she was straight up acting and thinking like a paranoid and it was cutting years off her life. Worrying and thinking over and over again, being hyper aware of everyone's actions, including her own.

Nami resumed her reading, her voice strained this time, as if she forced herself to talk out loud. Each syllable sounded rougher than the other, but that didn't stop the navigator from telling that story.

The witch wasn't paying attention, instead focusing on the moments spent with all of them, just like last night, when they were all eating and teasing each other. She needed to talk to Zoro, to tell him again that she's sorry.

Maybe he didn't hear me clearly before he fell unconscious, she wondered. She moved one of her arms and curled her fingers around the wound on her bicep. It stung good. If it could stop the stream of tears threatening to fall, then it was good, no matter how much it hurt, how the pain sunk deep into her bones, making her flinch.

There was something she wanted to clear out with Nami, but before the witch could speak, approaching steps made her mouth close shut. The presence felt light once her senses registered it, like a sparkling piece of hope — Luffy. She remained like a statue, breathing so slowly it was barely obvious she was still alive.

"Why did the king have to kill him?" he asked innocently.

He was referring to Nami's telling.

Without even having to glance up at him, the witch knew he was feeling unwell. There was no light in his voice and he sounded unsure of himself, so disoriented.

"Sometimes, when you are in charge, you have to make the tough decisions," she muttered between gritted teeth.

The witch knew where this conversation was heading.

"Why does everybody keep saying that?"

Luffy's voice desperately tried to reach out to the orange-haired woman.

Judging from the creaking of the chair, Nami got up from her seat as she spoke:

"Because you could've saved Zoro. He didn't have to fight Mihawk, but you let it happen. "

A few seconds of silence filled the room with thick tension.

"Look at her," Nami pointed with her chin towards the witch. "It looks like if he goes, she goes too. If one of us crumbles, everyone does. Look at us, at how we're handling it, at how Zoro does or, better said, how he doesn't handle it."

The witch couldn't understand why she was suddenly part of their conversation or why Nami took her side and tried to protect her from some unknown entity. Probably, she really looked worse than she thought. A sense of relief patched up one of the countless wounds under her skin when she figured out the navigator said all those things because she cared.

At the very same time, she knew Nami's words must've made Luffy suffer greatly, pushing her to raise her head and give her friends her entire attention.

"Nami," the witch intervened gently.

"You're in no place to talk," she cut her off quickly, her eyes like turbulent seas. "We're all a mess and it's all because of his stupid decision. But he could've been stopped," Nami turned her head to Luffy again.

"Nami, stop it," the witch furrowed her eyebrows. "Fighting will do no good. We've argued enough last night, there's no need for that anymore."

Nami was panicked and stressed out of her mind as well. Everything gave her away: the trembling hands, the shaking voice, tone close to breaking in a million pieces with each word, even the tears that gathered in her eyes. However, no drop rolled down her cheek.

"Tell me, Luffy," Nami vehemently continued with a tensed expression. "Would you see him like this? He might die."

Stop saying that, please, the witch thought as she took in another breath. He knows. Everyone knows. Please, stop saying he'll die because I might believe it too. I want to believe in him, not in whatever life changing lesson the universe gave me.

"And I'd do anything to save him," Luffy whispered with a tender smile on his face.

Me too. I'd rip my heart out of my chest and give it to him. I'd rip off my flesh and put it on his wounds. I'd die if I knew my life would be given to him.

"Anything," Luffy continued. "Except stand in the way of his dream."

God fucking dammit.

"We all have dreams, but we outgrow them," Nami clenched her teeth after she spoke.

"Is that really what you think?" Luffy's smile held so much hope. "Don't you have a dream?"

"Yeah. Right now, is for Zoro to not die in my bed," the navigator let out in a strangled voice.

"Isn't there something that you want? Something more," the straw hat whispered. "More than anything else in this world."

When the witch looked at Nami, it was obvious she was on the verge of tearing up, her nostrils flaring. Her eyes were already bloodshot.

"Not everyone gets to follow their dreams."

Nami didn't wait for any of them to respond before she walked out of the room. The witch got to her feet and tried to catch the navigator's hand in hers, but she wasn't fast enough. All she could do was glance at Luffy and place both of her palms on his shoulders, just like he did at the crack of dawn.

He looked at the witch with a hopeful and equally worried gaze.

"I know you meant the best when you encouraged him to follow his dream, Luffy," the witch squeezed his shoulders. "It's alright. Nami knows that as well. She's worried, like all of us. We all said hurtful things to each other lately."

His lips trembled when he attempted to say something, but he didn't dare to anymore. Instead, he searched for reassurance.

Was he in the wrong? Did Zoro get hurt because of him?

"It's not your fault," the witch continued with a tiny smile on her face. "I promise you. Everything led up to this. It couldn't have been avoided, unfortunately. No one could've stopped Zoro — you know he's a stubborn asshole."

Luffy scoffed.

"You know I'm right."

"I do," the straw hat nodded shily. "I think…" he gulped down, looking at his feet. "Maybe I can clean his sword for when he'll wake up."

"I'm sure he would be grateful about it. I'll stay here a bit longer."

She didn't let go of Luffy's shoulders until he moved away. Just to ease her concern, he smiled faintly at her before leaving the room.

Looking down at the unconscious pirate hunter, the witch couldn't believe her eyes. She gulped, not even daring to grasp at his hand, scared he'd break even because of a feather-like touch. She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes for a few seconds, opening them again only to see the same man in the exact same position.

She was scared for him, for his life. She didn't want to be a nuisance and stop him from doing what he believed would bring him happiness. Or maybe that word was too much — but winning against Dracule Mihawk would've made him proud, it would've fulfilled a promise he made to someone long ago. She didn't know who was at the other end of the promise, but he seemed to be a man of his word, so trying to stop him turned her into a selfish person.

Her eyes were locked on his face, brushing with the back of her hand some small droplets of sweat on his forehead. She was worried out of her mind, now regretting she didn't do more to stop him, to make him change his mind when he was maybe too drunk to think twice.

"Be careful, Zoro," the witch told him back then, her gaze betraying the worry crippling through her entire being.

She was right. He should've been more careful. He should've been less reckless, should've listened to Nami and her, even if Luffy encouraged him to chase his dream. Was it really worth it?

Once again, she sighed. She was selfish, greedy, it was wrong to think that his dream wasn't worth the entire world. Heck, even she would do anything for him, just to see him open his eyes again, just to hear another bored or witty remark coming from between his lips.

Instead, he was silent and still, only the slow movement of his chest visible as he breathed. It was the only thing that managed to bring her an ounce of comfort.

At least he was alive, she continued telling herself.

It was clawing at her heart, messing with it, her thoughts roaming around, jumping one on top of another. She was overthinking again, the worst habit she could've had — or that's what she silently believed for years.

The witch should've fought with him to death back then, when he was stubborn enough to throw Nami's words at her while they argued. Maybe it would've made him change his mind. As she continued looking at him, she worthlessly tried to take some of the blame for what happened.

Hidden under his bandages, the same wound made the woman standing by his side believe she saw the Death Reaper, even if he was the one unconscious on a bed.

Carefully, she sat down next to him, without taking her eyes off of him even for a moment.

"You're kind of worrying us all, y'know? Luffy is in denial of your possible death and Nami seems restless. Usopp is too silent for his usual self," she whispered.

Her first instinct was to touch him, but her fingertips hovered above his hand. She didn't know if it would've been right to seek the warmth of his skin while he wasn't even awake. All the witch could do was hope that deep down in his soul, he felt and heard all of them.

"I'm worried too. No. Worried is an understatement. I'm terrified," the words trembled as they left her lips, the same chopped lips she sank her teeth into. "I'd rather have you call me an idiot," she chuckled sourly.

With slow and careful gestures, she gathered enough courage to caress his hand with her fingers, feeling small cuts here and there. He was still warm, which eased a few of her worries.

She made a long pause, staring at the seemingly lifeless man she would give her life for.

"Remember when we drank together on the deck, two nights ago?"

A fragile smile appeared on her face at the reminder of that night. She stole the last drop of his bottle before he could finish it with a grin, playfully nudging at his ribs. He failed to threaten her about how she owes him something for that. He was handling his liquor better than her and yet, he couldn't hide his smirk or the sparkle in his eyes.

That night, bottles later, the witch got dizzy and tipsy. At first, she almost fell into a sea of melancholy after she shared pieces of her with Zoro. She doesn't remember how, but he got her laughing way too easy with his remarks and some silly stories.

"You're flushed already," he pointed out back then.

"You're kinda rosy in the cheeks as well, swordsman."

At that time she damned the alcohol for the soft gaze she had when she looked at him. Her eyes were sparkling with adoration when they danced on his face, peace sinking in her very bones in his presence. She shouldn't have drank. It was so obvious that she had a soft spot for him, that he had a special place in her heart not even a month after they met.

And who was at fault for her drunken state that night? Roronoa Zoro, obviously. He was at fault when she giggled and talked too much about too many things at once, so much more passion in her words than usual — was that even possible? he thought to himself. She always had a light and warm way of talking, her voice many times giving away her feelings.

A promise was a promise, even if she didn't wholeheartedly accept it from the beginning. She surrendered quickly and told him that yes, she owes him something, maybe a secret.

The witch remembered everything the next day, but acted like her memory had faded. The realization hit her hard the next morning, when she figured out her irrational fear of sharing secrets. She shouldn't have made that promise, so she played dumb, as if the conversation they had was forgotten about.

"Maybe it's not exactly a secret, but I like it when you call me by my name."

Maybe he hears me.

"I didn't hear my name being spoken for a long time. It makes me emotional every time, with no exception."

You're a crybaby, he should've said.

Her hand fully settled on top of his while the witch continued to slowly rub her fingertips into his skin, trying to bring herself back to earth even if her thoughts were sailing through unfortunate memories.

"I wasn't called by my name for years after my father became a pirate," she continued the story that started during their drinking night. "He aimed to become an Admiral and he was part of the Navy Forces for half of his life. For a long time, he thought he could do better than his comrades and hoped he could change the corruption that took place in the Government and the Marines. Insane, right?" she let out a sour chuckle. "An Admiral becoming a pirate. Everyone called him insane."

Once again, she smiled at the faint memories of her father's warm smile. There were details she didn't mention that night on the deck, like the status of her father in the Navy.

"I didn't reach ten yet when he left. He considered it would've been dangerous to stay with us and, if I am to be honest, mom would've kicked him out of their home."

Their home, because that place was never her home.

"Calling me by my name would've meant he still has ties with me and someone might've taken advantage of that."

Nine years ago, the witch was a child who only learnt how to use a kitchen knife for cutting vegetables. That child has been stripped of her innocence a few years later.

"A few times a year he would visit me. He would hide from the Marines, while I would hide from my mom. I still remember how he was so much happier. He looked younger, like he was living his teenage years and not his thirties. Except for a few days I'd stay with him and his crew, he was roaming around the seas. He never judged a single soul, believing it wasn't his job to do so, even if he would protect anyone who needed help. He changed the meaning of a pirate in a good way."

She turned her head towards the window, watching the blue sky mingling with the sea and the port of Baratie where people were walking on the wooden battens.

"He was caught by the Marines while he visited me and killed in the center of the city," her voice lowered to a gentle whisper, just like the breeze coming from the open window and giving her goosebumps.

She remembers that moment all too clearly, eyebrows knitting together as she squeezed Zoro's hand lightly, hoping it would bring some comfort to her shattered heart.

A life that felt like an eternity already made her believe her name was like damnation for anyone who said it. A few syllables being spoken and you'd be cursed to die one way or another, since her mother refused to call by the name her father chose when she saw light for the first time. Her father and his crew were the only ones calling her name so dearly, with honey latched onto their voices, treating her like a daughter.

She was someone's daughter when she was with them. And now, by Luffy's side, she was someone's friend.

"I don't want to watch you die too," only then she looked at him again. "Don't die on me. Don't leave us alone."

There was determination in her tone, mingling with pain and sorrow. Half of her believed in him the same way she believed the sea was blue and that leaves were green. The other half drowned in anguish.

Zoro seemed almost serene, despite the small frown that never left his face. She took in a deep breath and moved her hand away from his, only to lean over and rest her elbows on her knees.

She needed some fresh air.

The witch got up and left the room in a hurry, before tears would've slipped down her cheeks. She pushed it all aside, holding it in, since there was no time to weep at anyone's grave. Zoro was still breathing, even if half dead.

He will get better. He had to.

She walked into the galley. Standing up in front of the table was Sanji, wearing only his white and blue checkered shirt, the black jacket suit abandoned on the armrest of the couch. He was cutting some vegetables, skillfully holding the knife.

On the cushions sat Luffy, cleaning Zoro's white sword, just like he said. Meanwhile, Usopp was the one to notice her first, leaning with his hands prompted onto the wooden table. Nami couldn't be spotted anywhere.

The sound of her own name almost made her flinch. The witch blinked quickly, looking at Usopp. Both Sanji and Luffy looked at her then. The latter had some deep puppy eyes — her heart aches at that look alone.

"How is he?"

"Unconscious," she breathed out softly.

She let out a sigh and ran her fingers through her hair, her eyebrows pulled together.

"I suppose you haven't eaten anything since yesterday," Sanji smiled gently. "Anything I could make for you?"

"I appreciate it, really, but I don't have an appetite," she dismissed him with a faint smile of her own.

"You could use some energy, you know," Usopp mumbled.

"You, Luffy? What would you like to eat?" Sanji got back to chopping the vegetables.

"I'm not hungry right now. You could make something for Zoro. He'll surely be hungry when he wakes up!"

Their captain still had hope bubbling in his chest and it was the only thing keeping them all afloat.

However, the witch couldn't bear to think about it anymore. She spotted her shirt hanging on a nail in the wall, close to the couch. With a quick gesture, she grabbed at it, intending to put it on herself until the heavy scent of blood filled her senses the second time that day—

The shirt was soaked in Zoro's blood from the time when she used it to stop the bleeding of his wound. Nausea crawled up her throat and she unintentionally dropped the piece of cloth when she became aware of the sickness settling deeply in the pitch of her stomach.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

With a hand covering her mouth, she rushed out of the galley, on the deck, the doors shutting harshly behind her. She leaned over the railing as the acidic taste made its way up her throat and on her tongue.

A disgusting sensation, truly.

She's seen blood before, she saw countless corpses laying at her feet, but nothing could compare with the vision of a dear person giving their last breath. She couldn't believe she vomited because of blood, such a normal occurrence in her life.

But it wasn't just any kind of blood — it was Zoro's and it sunk into the material of her own shirt.

She will have to throw it away. There's no way in hell she would manage to ever wear that again, even if it would be clean and smelling like lavender.

Tears clung to her eyelashes when she opened her eyes again, looking down into the sea. She was breathing heavily and she regretted swallowing her own saliva, as the awful taste lingered in her mouth unpleasantly.

Warm fingers touched her shoulder and before she saw whose hand it was, there was a glass of water being shoved towards her. When she glanced up, she saw the blonde waiter.

"Thank you, Sanji," she took the glass from his hand, sipping slowly as the gentle weight on her shoulder disappeared.

"If I knew such a beautiful lady was waiting for me to wake up, I would've opened my eyes much sooner."

The waiter — who could apparently also cook like a professional — said that in a somewhat flirtatious tone. Also, there was compassion lingering in his honeyed voice.

"If Zoro would hear you, he would've thrown you overboard."

Nami.

The witch didn't even notice her on the deck until that moment, her head snapping towards the navigator, her eyes sparkling with hope as she gripped at the glass in between her fingers. Nami was a few meters away from her, with her back facing the sea and her hands curled around the railing.

The witch has seen Nami's expression countless times when she looked in the mirror after a crying fit. The same bloodshot eyes and puffy eyes, the red tip of her nose and the husky voice.

"I don't remember you having sea sickness," Nami pried into her soul.

The witch looked towards the water at the bottom of her glass, ashamed of her own reaction.

"Because I don't have sea sickness," the witch whispered weakly, basically admitting her vulnerable state.

She was more than just thankful Sanji chose not to elaborate on the reason behind her reaction. There was still acid sitting on her tongue, even after she gulped down the last droplets of water from her glass.

"Where are you heading to?"

The witch noticed when Nami straightened her back and walked away, towards the dock.

"Maybe I can find another drink at the restaurant," Nami waved the back of her hand at the witch.

That sounded very familiar to a lie for some reason, but was it the witch's place to comment?

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

Familiar fear made its way through her body, scratching underneath the skin, whispering in her ear like a mantra the same phrase her mother has always told her: "there's nothing you can do about it, so accept it."

Those words always unsettled the young witch deeply. She heard that voice everytime she hid in a room with the books her grandmother left behind, pages filled with tarot and palmistry, the promise of real magic, different from the fairy tales. It sounded and felt palpable, her eyes sparkling. Those books were her treasure, a future filled with freedom.

The same words were being shouted in her ears by the ghosts when her body stiffened in its spot. She wanted to scream while the man who was her father was dragged away by Marines, this time on the port of Baratie, not in her hometown.

The deafening yell she wanted to let out was silent. Her lips didn't even part and her awareness slipped away as she continued to see blood pooling at her father's feet, his signature royal blue coat painted in crimson. As if her vocal chords broke before she opened her mouth, no sound left her lips.

"He deserved it," sounded so clear in her ear, as if her mother stood right beside her, watching the same scene unfolding over and over again.

No, no, I can't let him die! I need to do something! Please, dad, you can't—

The man who stood proudly was dying, his body decomposing right before her eyes. A sickening view, as the skin melted off the meat, leaving only bones and tendons behind, covered by heavy clothes, two empty holes in his cranium instead of beautiful sparkling eyes. Blood dried on the white bones and sunk into the material of his coat and it flowed towards her, to the tips of her boots—

"Luffy! Arlong is here and he's after you, we have to leave now!"

The witch gasped loudly, her eyes snapping open. Nami, who just entered, was panting heavily, fingers gripping at the edge of the doorframe.

Who's Arlong?

She noticed Luffy who just got up from the chair he was sitting on, right by Zoro's side. Usopp had his fingers curled around one of the ropes holding the bed in the room hanging in the air.

There were no dead corpses around. Gosh, that nightmare was scary as hell. Her heart still drummed in her eardrums, blood rushing through her veins at an alarming pace.

She managed to get on her feet, her palm glued to the wall to support herself.

"Where do you think you're going, Luffy?"

Nami was panicked. Her fear grew steadily, just like fire, and she was on the edge of cussing out that entire bunch of confident idiots.

"We can't let Arlong hurt people just because of us. He might kill everyone if we don't step in."

Luffy was rarely so serious, but the situation asked for it. However, the navigator was anything but happy with his suicidal decision.

The witch turned her head towards the unconscious swordsman. She took in a deep breath, calming the waters threatening to destroy her mind. Then, her warm gaze raised back to the navigator who squeezed the map in between her trembling fingers.

"You'll stay here and protect the ship, Nami," Luffy smiled reassuringly. "I trust you."

The orange haired woman searched for a different reaction from the witch, but received the same determination.

"Have you all grown insane?" she whispered in horror.

The witch made slow steps towards her and engulfed her in a warm hug, wrapping her arms around the navigator's body. She squeezed her gently, resting her chin on Nami's shoulder.

"Something is troubling you greatly. Don't lie to me," the witch whispered in her ear softly. "You've got something in your head and you're pushing all of us away. We trust you, even if it'll bring us our death."

That's what scared Nami the most.

The witch parted just to look into Nami's troubled blue eyes.

"We'll be alright. We have to be. We'll figure it out together."

She had no clue how much Nami wanted to believe her, but it was impossible to do so. The navigator knew better what danger awaits them in Baratie now that Arlong appeared, that monster—.

Right. That's what pirates were: monsters. So why did the ones in front of her look like friends instead of demons stealing her life away?

The witch squeezed her shoulders and smiled so warmly, so calmly, different from the agitation they would face.

For one second only, Nami dared to believe. Then, it crumbled to her feet when Luffy and the witch left her room with one glance back at Zoro.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

The witch found herself in the restaurant once again. Her fingers gripped tightly at the gun she held, finding comfort in the familiar weight settled in her hand. On purpose, she stood behind the other three men, sharp eyes scanning her surroundings carefully. They were lucky they chose to enter from the first floor, since she could easily hide.

She wasn't hiding for the reasons some would think of. The witch intentionally stood on the side, analyzing the situation. First of all, she had to find the smallest opportunity to find a weak spot for that fishman. From her spot, still glued to the wall and hidden from everyone's eyes, she focuses on Luffy's conversation with Arlong.

"I expected someone… bigger," Arlong commented with a wide grin, sharp teeth on full display.

He could definitely be classified as scary, but the witch didn't want to admit that to herself. Was he dangerous? Of course.

"Me too," Luffy commented.

Alright, maybe Luffy had far more confidence than she thought, since he dared to make fun of that fishman, angering him. It wasn't enough that Luffy was hunted down by Arlong, he had to make him angry as well—

What was she scared of?

She took in a deep breath and a few seconds were enough for her heartbeat to beat at a normal pace. The witch didn't have enough time to worry about consequences, she had to find their weakness quickly and act on it.

While her focus slipped from them, Luffy was already walking down one of the two pairs of stairs meeting up at the first floor of the restaurant. Arlong threatened the straw hat about something and the first thing she heard was the deafening sound of a shotgun.

The same sound was followed by a soft chiming filling the silence.

Her chest tightened since no groan of pain could be heard from anyone. When she glanced at the people downstairs, she saw Zeff — the cook who stitched Zoro up — with a gun pointed at Arlong. However, the fishman only turned his head back and cocked an eyebrow at the cook.

The bullet was most probably what caused that chiming sound. It seemed like fishmen's scales were bulletproof.

Fucking great. Her long range fighting style wasn't to her advantage.

An ounce of fear uncomfortably gnawed at her courage. The witch hated that helpless sensation, as if there was no escape, as if that was her dead end.

Her fingers gripped tighter around her gun, until the skin turned yellow.

I can't chicken out now. I don't have the luxury of turning my back against a fight in such a critical situation.

She swallowed the lump in her throat after she bit so hard onto her lower lip she tasted copper on her tongue.

Everyone has a weakness, right? Fishmen must have one as well.

On the floor below, Luffy threw his stretchy arms at Arlong, with his hands curled into fists. Zeff was harshly thrown into a table that broke down, making Sanji jump into action as well. Usopp was the only one that remained upstairs, uselessly hiding behind the decorative wrought iron railing — he could be easily seen.

Crouching down to Usopp's level, the witch slowly walked towards him with the gun still in her hand. When his eyes fell on her, he blinked like a confused owl.

"Guns don't work!" he whisper-shouted at her, horror painting his features.

With a sigh, she grinned cheekily.

"Are you running, scaredy-cat?" she taunted him with an arched eyebrow.

"Are you insane?" he frowned when she was a few inches away from him. "You can't seriously believe your gun is gonna do any damage to those monsters."

Glancing down between the iron bars of the railing, the witch spotted other two fishmen getting up from their table. So there were three in total.

With an unusually serious tone, she stared into Usopp's eyes, determination oozing out of her.

"You can't run now, Usopp. I hope you're aware of that."

"Even you hesitated for a second!"

His nervous demeanor and his over-thinking habits got the best of him at that moment. He was equally scared and amazed by the witch's courage.

"That was before I realized there's no going back. Usopp," she lowered her tone, fingers gripping at his shirt to bring him down from the clouds. "If you choose to run away, you will never become a brave warrior of the seas. Do you hear yourself? We're not running anywhere. We have to fight if we don't want to leave Luffy and Sanji to deal with the fishmen on their own."

She wasn't exactly good at motivational speeches, but that seemed to shake his soul well enough.

"Now help me find out their soft spots so we can bring those idiots down before they destroy this entire restaurant and eat us alive."

Bullets couldn't penetrate their scales. She didn't know if blades could work any better either. Also, Arlong alone had the highest bounty in the East Blue, not his friends. He was most probably much stronger than them.

If she could bring down at least one of the other two fishman, it was also a win.

Then, an idea popped into her head.

Their eyes.

They didn't have anything protecting their eyes except for the fact that they were sunk into their faces. With her aim, she had a chance to shoot one of them. She had to take advantage of the fact that no one knew she was there and making a plan.

Taking in a deep breath, the witch placed the gun between the iron bars and aimed at the fishman with ridiculously big lips. She wasn't exactly that far away, but she had to concentrate. One single miss and everything would go down, since her presence would be obvious and her hand to hand fighting skills weren't that well developed against raw strength.

She waited patiently, Usopp still by her side. Once the fishman stood still, turned towards her, she pulled the trigger of her gun.

The bullet struck his eye and he groaned in pain, receiving a proud smile from the witch who quickly hid behind a table from upstairs, dragging Usopp with her. Her heartbeat was so fast in her ears it could leave her deaf.

She had to pull herself together.

"You've got good aim," Usopp's voice trembled.

"Thanks," she breathed out heavily, eyes closing for a second.

There was an entire tornado in her soul. The witch knew there was no place for running away, but she was equally aware of her disadvantage against fishmen who fight with their fists.

Zoro would've loved the thrill of this fight.

But he wasn't there to joke about her being a scared little lady.

And Nami wasn't there to yell into her face and tell her to wake the fuck up and help her find a better plan.

Before she had a chance to notice, Usopp was crawling down the stairs on the left once an idea popped into his head, or that was what the witch thought.

She felt a certain presence walking up the stairs on her right and her eyes widened. The other fishman spotted her.

"Here you were, wench," he spoke with a growl.

She didn't have enough time to scramble to her feet before a rough hand wrapped around her neck and lifted her up in the air, pushing her against the wall. She could barely even groan when her breathing was restricted by the awfully strong grip the fishman had on her throat.

Her gun fell from her hand and hit the floor with a weak sound.

Uselessly, her fingers grabbed at the muscled blue arm holding her up, feet a few inches away from the floor. Compared to him, her grip was weak, insignificant.

The witch was never the type to necessarily wish to live, but she certainly didn't want to die in that moment, when others' lives were hanging on a thread.

Also, she didn't want that ugly fucking fishman with big lips to be the last sight before she closed her eyes forever.

Dammit.

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