#cause those are the same people in different fonds

[sebsdaniel]

Someday imma write why Taylor Swift and Max Verstappen and their careers are alike and why those who like one are usually a fan of the other too

[jaggedamethyst]

bucky barnes and his physical media

pairing: bucky x reader, use of she and girl once or twice

content: bucky is obsessed with physical media, especially photos…but he hates being in them. you try to change that.

notes: minors dni, slight smut but it’s honestly pretty tame here, some obligatory bucky angst. i don’t believe in proofreading I fear.

word count: 1.8k

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Growing up Bucky quickly gained a fondness for cameras. He loved to capture the images of those he loved--moments in time for which he could always look back on when he missed them.

He considered himself a confident guy and took said pictures at any opportunity he was given. He figured someone would always want to look at a face that perfect, if he could say so himself.

It was different, though, when the reflected images no longer were of the young man so keen on going to war. When the moment in time was one that could only elicit one of fear. He couldn’t recognize himself these days, not after being the Winter Soldier. The man was now adamant about not having memories that preserved him as he was now. Not when he was a shell of the man he’d known years ago.

If he absolutely had to take pictures, he was even more sure it would never be on a fucking phone. Not only are they the most fickle objects imaginable, he also hated the damn cloud. He wasn’t entirely prehistoric; he understood when people said that it was a way to store things…but a cloud. He’d had one too many mishaps with technology that things randomly disappearing from the cloud was not too far fetched in his mind. If he had to preserve something special to him it would absolutely be in an album. An album was tangible, and if it came to it, he could easily grab the stack of them in a hurry.

Physical media was absolutely near and dear to him. Whenever an old show was nowhere to be found, he clung to his DVD sets like a lifeline. The same could be said of his photo albums. They quickly became a way for him to reclaim some of the power he felt was lost with his mind. But taking pictures and storing them, to him, was therapeutic.

That's how he ended up with several albums on his shelf. Some were miscellaneous, ones that had yet to be sorted. Others solely for pictures of nature that he found calming to look at.

Nothing compared to the album he had of you, though.

An inadvertent smile would always creep up on his lips when his eyes met the spine of your album. Just the sight of your name sprawled in his handwriting was enough to make him feel warm inside. Inside were photos of you, some candid, others posed. He hated pictures, but for you he would at least attempt to stomach the feeling .

He flipped through the pages as he always did, feeling sort of proud he’d managed to take such great snapshots in time..and even more that he preserved them without the damn cloud.

Bucky made note to add more to this album; it wasn’t nearly as full as he’d like. With that, he swiftly closed the album—a gust of air causing one photo to fly out of the book. He grabbed the print that lay at his feet, not thinking much of it other than it would be returned to its rightful place among the other portraits of his girl.

As he flipped the picture, a heat quickly spread across the man’s cheeks. Oh. He definitely was not expecting this.

A selfie. Yes, that’s what it’s called. He’d learned that word a while ago. Somewhere in time he also learned that while people could be “in the nude,” they’d also referred to risqué photos similarly. Yes, a nude was how he would describe this one.

The man had seen many works of art in his day. Some of which were dedicated to his friend for his accomplishments in war. Others, of objects, like how Bucky would leisurely snap a photograph of a bird sitting stoic in a tree.

None of that compared to the polaroid he’d laid eyes on right now. His thoughts reeled in his mind, observing every detail. He knew it was hard to capture yourself in frame with these print cameras—no clear indication of what was in focus. But you were skillful.

The sun cascaded over your body, highlighting your skin in a way he’d never seen. He couldn’t see your face above your lips, but they curled in a way that seemed purposeful. How he’d do anything to see your eyes reflect the light of the sun that day. He slowly placed a finger on the photo, tracing the curve of your neck…your shoulder…your fingers.

No. He mentally groaned. The curl in your lips, a smirk, made sense now. You’d covered yourself where he wanted to see most. Hands crossed over your chest but your skin remained bare, teasing him. He felt so disgusted with himself even thinking this way, wanting to see more. It’s not like he hadn’t already, but in this moment the taunting imagery drove him up a wall.

He’s not sure when exactly he’d sat down on the couch or when his pants got to be pooled at his ankles. He’s even less certain of what time it is, but your footsteps approaching his door bought him back to reality. You’re off work.

The now strained fabric of his pants irritated him. Not only did your nude leave him extremely worked up, but he didn’t even finish before you got back.

Your voice resounded from the door, “Buck! I left the key, can you open up?”

“Coming!” He froze, an audible huff leaving his nostrils at the poorly timed reply.

He placed the photo in his back pocket before stalking towards the door.

With a swift swing, the door opened to your smile on the other side. Unlike the mischievous smirk that was printed in the picture in his pocket, this one was borderline affable. He let out what could only be described a a mixture between a scoff and chuckle.

You quirked a brow, “um, what's funny?” You rounded the space left by Bucky’s shoulders, making your way towards the kitchen.

“Nothing,” Bucky replied with a hint of sarcasm, “just had a bit of a weird day.”

“Really?” You turned to start the faucet, washing your hands before looking for something to drink. “You…wanna talk about it?”

The man felt his chest continue to rise and fall at an erratic pace. As the water continued to trickle he became painfully aware of the situation in his jeans at the present. Fuck it.

He reached for his pocket, quickly whipping the film towards your back.

He tried to level his voice in an attempt at asking his next question in the most nonchalant way he could muster. “Baby…what’s this?”

You craned your head away from the faucet a bit, “huh?” Grasping a towel, you slowly turned towards the sound of Bucky’s voice. “What’s wha- oh-”

An obvious shock appeared on your face but had he not looked close enough he would have missed it. The shift to an indifferent facial expression perplexed the man--even more when you replied in a chipper tone.

“Oh! I just got this new camera the other day at the store.” You moved past him, turning the corner and heading down the hall towards the junk closet you guys kept. He followed your movement with his eyes, stuck in place with pure intrigue. The distance and scrambling left your voice low to his ear. “You wanna see it? It's so cool and it wasn't too expensive!”

He moved back towards the couch, slouching a bit. “Sure, baby.”

Bucky twisted his head at the sound of you walking, no skipping, back towards the living room. “This thing is so easy to use, Buck. I feel like a pro like you.”

“I am not a pro,” he mumbled, his hand meeting his forehead.

He felt a hand on him, brushing his hair back. The nudge forcing him to lift his head to meet your eye. You’d knelt on the floor in front of him.

“I,” you planted a kiss on his cheek, “think you are amazing at taking pictures.” A pause loomed in the air, “but I wanted to do something for you…show you can be a great subject too.”

You placed a finger on his shoulder, urging him to lay back. “You should get comfortable, Buck…because this,” you gingerly plucked the photo from his grasp “is just the first installment to an amazing collection I think we will have.”

Bucky absolutely needed to work on his recollection skills—his ability to focus too. He again found himself with his pants down and no idea of how he’d come to be that way. This time, a cool breeze swept against his chest—his shirt somehow flung across the room. He absolutely did not mind, though.

The way in which you seemed to be skilled at everything truly blew his mind. With only a hand pumping him up and down, slowly at that, he’d found himself writhing against you. Whispers fell on deaf ears, as he’d quickly become overstimulated from his lack of release before.

“I- I-,” he stumbled as he usually did with you. There was no time when you were together when he didn’t feel at a loss for words. But here, with himself dripping all over your hands, your eyes looking at him expectantly, and your gentle lips grazing against his skin—he was struggling to even say more than one syllable.

You assured him, “it's okay, I know.” Simple words, but enough to make his insides tingle.

“Fuck…please,” he uttered your name. “I can’t-“

Your soft hands grasped his face again, a silent request for his eye contact.

It was so unfair, he knew that she knew that’d be his weakness. As quickly as it started, Bucky would finally finish. A feeling of euphoria and relief rushed the man, his skin prickly and glossed over with sweat.

“This is perfect,” he lowered his head a bit to see you back on your knees, this time holding your hands up. An arched brow raised on his face once more…you could be so damn elusive sometimes. At a further look, he could see you there, one eye closed. He searched between your hands, they were making L shapes in the air.

“Actually perfection,” you said with a flourish of your fingers. You leaned back, grasping your camera from the coffee table. “Now, be good James and don’t ruin my work.”

“I don’t know what you mean-“

Your finger met his skin, softly mixing in with the wetness now drenching his lower abdomen. He felt you marking a shape into the puddle—a heart?

Before he could even register, a flash. You’d taken a photo.

“Like I said, perfection.”

You left the polaroid beside the other on the coffee table, planting a kiss on the man's lips this time.

Bucky’s smile creeped up on his face, a happiness enveloping him.

“I think we need a new album.”

[writingsbychlo]

LOSE YOUR INHIBITIONS

mattheo riddle & theodore nott | 8.1k

your boyfriend thought it would be fun to play a game of hide and seek only knowing one another's costumes. neither of you anticipated the mix-up of someone else wearing the same mask, or the thrilling events that follow.

note: happy hallowe'en, angels! you knew me and @theostrophywife would never leave you hanging on this special day, right? enjoy xo

Accepting the shot presented to you at the door, Fred Weasley delivered the vial with a charming grin. With a flick of his wrist, the door to the Gryffindor common room opened, letting the sounds of the party spill out from within. It was raging already, though this was no surprise, as the parties the twins threw had always been legendary. 

Swirling the sparkling liquid around inside the tube, it flickered in iridescent shades as the flashing lights from within rippled through it, and a smirk tugged on your painted lips. It smelled like sugared cherries and vanilla, a mouthwatering and tempting combination. Bringing it to your lips, you let the flavour wash over you, like silk as it ran down your throat dangerously smoothly. 

This party had been all anyone could talk about for the past two weeks, since the infamous Weasley pair had finally revealed the theme for this year's Hallowe’en bash. A masquerade party, hence the broken doll makeup that covered the right side of your face, but that hadn't been enough to satisfy the pair. No, rather than stop there, they’d gone on to craft themselves a potion of their own imagining, one that began to leave the edges of your vision blurring in a perfect kind of haze, and you placed the empty tube back down onto the tray in his hand. 

“How’s it feel?” Fred grinned, red hair shining under the low lights as you blinked away the fuzziness in the edges of your vision. It was then, as you stared a moment longer, that the recognition of a face you’d known for almost a decade slipped your mind entirely. 

“Oh… wow.”

“Recognise me?” He chuckled, handing a couple of vials to a group of giggling girls who passed you by, none of whom you now found you could place the identity of. Even the timbre of his voice sounded distorted and different as you processed it, knowing what he normally sounded like. 

“I only know it’s you because… well, because we've been talking. I have no idea who just walked past.” You murmured, a pleasant tingling spreading through your body, slipping away any anxieties and worries. Only warmth and excitement were left in its wake. 

“Didn’t we tell you to arrive with your friends, hm? Good luck finding anyone in there.” Fred tutted teasingly, motioning for you to go inside, and you hummed your acknowledgement as you walked into the party. 

The floors vibrated under your feet, making you wonder just how many other students they’d had to coerce into helping cast the charms keeping this party a secret from the professors. Enchanted lights refracted and bounced around the expanded common room space, changing colours and leaving patterns streaking the darkened atmosphere.

Upon entering the main room, the heavy base of the music shook you so hard it rocked all the way up into your stomach with every step you took, and bodies filled every space in the room. Dancing, talking, laughing, playing games, drinking. They’d thought of it all, and you made your way slowly over to the drinks table to fill yourself up a cup with the spiced elf wine you were so fond of this time of year. 

Some people milled around in groups, clinging to those whose identities they knew, while others boldly adventured and mingled in the freedom of anonymity. With a cursory glance across the crowds, all of the faces and voices around you blurred away before you could properly identify them. People you’d known for years were strangers to you for the night, and the spike of adrenaline it caused felt light lightning. 

With a twist in your stomach, and another gulp of wine, the music beat as your feet guided you through the throngs of people, beginning the search for a familiar mask. 

Mattheo hadn't told you when he’d arrive, only that it would be after you. 

Originally planning to arrive together, your boyfriend had thought it all the more amusing to turn the night into a thrilling game for the pair of you. You were only given the knowledge of what his mask looked like; something he’d picked up at a Muggle costume store to ensure nobody else would be wearing the same thing.

The black and white details were burned into your mind, and yet, every face you passed wasn’t what you were looking for. After completing your first lap of the party, you’d found yourself situated in a new corner. With a heady mixture of wine and adrenaline buzzing through your bloodstream, you tapped your fingers against your thigh in anticipation.

The second lap you took of the room resulted in much the same way. Though, this time, it had certainly taken longer. The dance floor had long since been overflowed, the groups, couples and solo dancers for the night had spilt out to fill almost half of the room. Grinding, swaying, twirling, you’d become caught up with different people at least three times, as the atmosphere of the party swept you away. Laughing, flushed cheeks, you finally stumbled from the masses and back into the rest of the room. 

More people had arrived since you had first started the hunt of your game, and you had no doubt now that he was in here somewhere, waiting for you to find him. No mask fit, no costume was right, and you’d done almost three laps of the room before you spotted him. 

Hours had melted by, you were sure of it, but suddenly it all felt like nothing as you spotted the masked man standing across the room. 

Tall, dressed impeccably in all black, and breathing out smoke from under the edge of the mask as he passed a cigarette around the group of boys he was standing with. His head tipped back as he laughed, and as you saw the mask you had memorised, you were sure of it. 

Slipping over, you made sure to skirt around the edges of the group, delighting in the squeal you involuntarily let loose when his head turned in your direction. Though you couldn't see his eyes beneath the mask, you could feel his sights locked onto your own, and for a moment, it felt like the breath was trapped in your lungs. 

Tall, imposing, terrifying. You bit your lip, waving your fingers at him, and watching his lips twist into a smirk, before he was handing off the cigarette in his hands, and waving back. Crooking a finger to beckon him closer, those long legs carried him until he stood before you, the smell of smoke and spiced whiskey rolling off of him and covering your senses. 

“Well, hello there.” You whispered, hands reaching out to settle on his arms as you took a small step forward. Trailing your hands along his sleeves, your fingers brushed against the embroidery on his cuff, and your smile widened at confirmation under your fingertips of the sewing you’d put there.

“Hello, doll.” He mused, humoured by his own joke, and you rolled your eyes gently, taking his hands in your own, and tugging him towards the dance floor. 

“Come on, I’ve been waiting all evening to dance.”

“Have you now?” He rolled his lower lip through his teeth, watching your hips move as you led him to a space you’d be able to occupy enough to move amongst the bodies. “And what have you been waiting for?”

“The right partner, of course.” Happy with the spot you’d found, you looped your arms around his neck, stepping into your boyfriend’s space a lot more, and his hands slid down your sides to settle on your hips. “Glad I finally found you.”

“Found me, indeed.” He mumbled, his forehead coming down to rest on your own, and a happy sigh slipped from your lips. You couldn't see much beyond the black-out eyes of the mask, but it didn’t matter. You didn’t need to, instead, you turned your back to him and pressed yourself into his chest, pulling his arms around you in the same way you always did. 

Swaying together in harmony, your head rolled back to sit on his shoulder, the words to the songs happily flowing from your lips as your hips ground against your boyfriend’s. Hands wandered, weak groans and ghosts of his breath along your neck were exchanged for your giggles. 

Where one game ended, a new one arose, a game of push and pull as you danced together. Pressing your arse back into his crotch, he returned the force, the outline of him pressing through his jeans to display his interest, and his arms tightened around you. 

“You’re confident, hm?” He teased, both hands dropping to your thighs, nails skating over your skin in a new and delicious way that made you shiver. When he reached the edge of your dress, his fingertips barely dipped below, before opting to toy with the fabric instead and slip away. 

“You love it.” Came your response, guiding one of his hands a little further up your body, skimming it over your breast tantalisingly before bringing your joined hands up, raised in the air to sway to the song. His laughter was warm and contagious, and time seemed to melt away once again as you sank into his embrace. 

At some point, he had tugged up the edge of his mask, his mouth descending upon your neck to kiss and lick and bite, drawing moans and whimpers from your lips. When dancing had grown tiresome for you both, you’d slipped back to the drinks table, laughing your way through a shot of Gigglewater each, before finding your way to one of the more secluded couches in the darker corners of the room. 

Now, your mouth was on his neck, marking his skin with red lipstick prints as one of his hands continued to grip your hips, allowing you to roll your core ever so slowly over the growing bulge in the front of his jeans. His other hand was splayed across one of your breasts, squeezing slowly as he panted, pulse racing under your lips. 

“(Y/n)?” A voice broke you from your reverie, and you nibbled on the sweet spot on his neck. 

“Yeah, Matty?” You whispered, believing the call to have come from the man underneath you. However, when he stiffened, so suddenly and harshly it was like he’d turned to stone, you pulled back. Your brows furrowed, you couldn't see what was wrong with his mask on, and you were reaching to remove it when you became aware of the other figure, standing behind the couch. 

With a gasp as you observed his almost identical attire, your heart felt for a moment like it stopped beating. In what you were sure would’ve looked almost comical in any other situation, you looked dumbly between the two matching masks. 

A soberingly cold bolt of shock sliced through you as you looked up, finding another tall, impeccably-clad man in all black standing behind the couch on which you were currently straddling Mattheo on. Or, thought you were, but now, as you took in the identical mask on his face, doubt began to creep in. The second man crossed his arms, legs widening in eerily familiar body language.

A sick feeling twisted in your stomach as you pulled back, pushing the man beneath you away by his shoulders. His neck was shining from the hickeys you had been enthusiastically marking his neck with. No matter how hard you tried, however, you couldn't place the features of either, recognition dancing just out of reach within your mind, and you let slip a frustrated growl. 

“Matty?” You whispered, and the man underneath you somehow stiffened further, a feat you’d thought impossible, as the one standing squared his shoulders and seemed to grow angrier through stance alone. 

“That would be me, sweetheart.” The one standing ground out through his teeth, voice so cold it made you feel like the temperature in the room had dropped. Springing up from the couch, you shook your head, feeling as though the whole world had just been tipped upside down. You had no chance to process it, as the intruder voiced the question also on your mind, “What the fuck is going on?”

“I found you! I found the mask!” An uncomfortable feeling raced through your body, heart pounding in your chest. As you rubbed at the place it thumped so hard, trying to escape, he seemed to soften a little. “I was so sure! Fuck, this stupid game—” 

The flashing lights were too much, the noise and the people and the complete lack of awareness were all too much, and you stumbled for the exit. The moment you were out of the party and alone in the corridors, it was like you could breathe again. Gasping cold breaths into your lungs, you found yourself in silence, the charms working perfectly to contain the secrecy of the party, the only noise was your heaving breaths and the sound of your heart pumping. 

Pressing your back into the cool stone of the wall, you tugged off the mask on your face, shaky fingers dropping it to the ground as the balls of your hands pressed to your eyes, just trying to think. 

Then, like a whoosh of warmth and a burst in the tranquillity of the corridor, a body slammed into the stone beside you, a groan slipping free as the breath left his lungs. The mask was still on his face, covering his identity, not that you’d be able to tell who it was even if it was gone, but you could recognise Mattheo by default now. He’d taken off his mask, his features swimming just outside of your consciousness like in a dream, but those flattened curls, and the chain around his neck, it was no doubt. 

“Someone better start explaining what the fuck is going on.” Mattheo hissed, brown eyes growing a little more familiar the longer you looked at them, filled with both rage and vulnerability. 

“I-I was so sure, Matty! I checked the sleeve and everything, I’m sorry.” The man whom you now knew to be your boyfriend was wearing a black t-shirt only, and you fumbled for the stranger’s sleeve, tugging the left one forward and tracing your finger over the embroidered initials that you had sewn into every shirt, jumper and tee he owned. 

Mattheo gripped the stranger's wrist in a far tighter hold than you had, yanking him forward to inspect the markings on the sleeve, and silent confusion settled between the three of you. Seconds ticked past in what felt more like hours, and then, Mattheo groaned in frustration, dropping the man’s wrist and raking his hand through his curls instead. He turned, kicking the wall on the opposite side of the corridor. 

“Fucking potion, I don’t even know who the fuck you are! You’ve got my sweater, I mean, what is this, a set-up?” With a swing, his open palm slammed down on the rock on the side of the stranger’s head, Mattheo’s unfamiliar features close enough to the stranger that he’d smell the whiskey on your boyfriend’s breath. “What to do with you now, huh? When I kick the shit out of you for kissing my girlfriend, I want to know exactly who I’m hitting.”

“I’ll tell you.” The stranger croaked, and Mattheo let out a dry laugh as he backed away. 

“And I’m supposed to just trust you, huh?”

You swallowed thickly, fingers gripping your ribs as your arms wrapped around yourself, unprepared for the answer, whether it was the truth or not. More silence ticked by, so many moments that your skin pebbled with goosebumps in the chill, and you rubbed your arms for warmth in the cold castle corridors. 

Eventually, the stranger balled his shaking hands, and cursed under his breath in a language you recognised immediately. Italian. Your next inhale caught painfully in your throat as realisation struck before he’d even begun to speak. “I’m sorry, Matt. I didn’t mean for this or happen. I—”

Shoes scuffled against the floor, and then Mattheo had him by the collar of his sweater, backed to the wall once again as his fist reared back for the swing—

“It’s Theo!”

Mattheo’s punch halted, the impact of stopping so suddenly rippling along his body, and his tension faltered. “You’re lying.”

“Why would I lie?” He implored, tugging off his mask at last, to reveal the same blurred, dreamlike features, but a recognisable head of golden-brown hair. “I can explain, I swear. Can you just put your fist down for a second?”

Reaching out, he placed a hand over Mattheo’s, lowering it slowly, and you crept forward to wrap your own hands around Mattheo’s, sliding his fist open to slip your fingers between his. He squeezed back fiercely, angrily. But, then, he lifted your hand up to his mouth, and kissed the back of your hand in a gesture you knew so well, all while glaring at ‘Theo’. 

“Look, I didn’t have a costume. It’s stupid, I wasn’t planning on coming to the party at all, but I changed my mind.” With another nervous breath, you rubbed your thumb over Mattheo’s, feeling him tense and release over and over again as bursts of anger shot through him. “You were in the shower and your mask was hanging on the back of the door, so I just used a Geminio on yours. I grabbed the first pair of black jeans and a sweater I could find, I didn’t think you’d mind, we share clothes all the time! I’m sorry.”

Mattheo took a deep breath and another. And another. 

His head tipped back to stare at the ceiling, and blue eyes that ticked at being familiar found yours, “I’m sorry, bella. I didn’t mean for all this to happen. I figured you two would show up together, and…”

“It was a game.” You finally croaked out, voice sore from holding back tears. “It was just a stupid game, I thought I found Matty but it was you.”

“I should’ve asked for your name. But, the potion and my inhibitions…”

“How does this even happen, Theo? Are you such a slut you were just letting a girl grind on you when you didn’t even know her name?” Mattheo jabbed, but the heat of rage was gone from his words, and instead lingered a desperation for some kind of explanation.

“Yes, apparently, I am!” Theo slapped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late now. The potion, the weed, the whiskey, it was all mixing, and Theo had always been a chatterbox when intoxicated. “Cazzo, she’s so fucking hot, mate! I didn’t want to stop and ask questions, I just wanted to get my hands on her and—” His words disintegrated into a gurgled choke as Mattheo once again pinned him to the wall, this time with a hand on his throat. 

His fingers flexed, and with a ragged swear he released the grip he had on Theo, allowing him to speak once again.

“Mattheo, you have to let me go.”

“Why?” Your boyfriend demanded, even as his hand loosened a fraction more. No matter how angry he was, you all knew he was incapable of hurting Theo. Mattheo would sooner injure himself than someone he loved, and Theo fell squarely into that category. “Why should I?”

“Because you’re not going to hurt me, we both know that,” Theo said gently, and Mattheo growled in a threat that scared nobody. “It’s not our fault. We were laced with a potion, a potion that is still very much in my system and blurring my boundaries. I was already hard as fuck, and this is really turning me on. Please let me go before this gets any more embarrassing for all of us.”

Your eyes widened, much like Mattheo’s, and Theo smirked a little at the shock he’d managed to inflict. “What?”

“Merde, since it’s clear that I’m not getting fucked tonight, and blue balls are setting in, could you kindly let me go, before I cream myself from your choking, Mattheo?” Theo hissed, his fingers wrapping around the wrist of the hand now merely sitting like a warm presence on his throat. 

Mattheo considered it for a second, two, three. A whole new kind of tension lingered in the air, and his hand slipped down from Theo’s throat to his shoulder instead. He turned to look at you, his gaze finding your own, a questioning heat swirling in them that you knew all too well. Mattheo wanted it. That kind of burning desire was something you were intimately familiar with, as was his secret wish to fuck his best friend. He’d wanted it long since before the two of you had gotten together, and he’d confided it in you early on. You’d discussed the possibility before, sure, but Theo had never been unattached, or the timing had never been right. You’d never dared cross such a line before. Now, the line was all but obliterated anyway, might as well proceed without caution. 

With a small nod, excitement lit up Mattheo’s face in replacement of dark anger.

“Who says you’re not getting fucked?”

It was Theo’s turn to be speechless, that smirk melting off of his face as he gaped instead. With all the elegance and eloquence you knew him to possess, he uttered a simple, “Huh?”

Turning back to you, Mattheo slipped a hand over your eyes, while pressing a kiss to your cheek. He muttered a few Geminio’s, and when he removed his hand, both of them had their masks back on, and matching attire now. In identical tees and jeans, right down to the boots and gloves, they looked the same. Your heart skipped a beat, and your throat bobbed with anticipation.

“Can you tell who’s who?” One of them asked, their voice unrecognisable once again, and without the simple features you’d clung to for identity, your lips parted. On a trembling, excited breath, you shook your head. 

“No. I can’t.”

“Good.” With that, a hand slipped into each of your own, a tug within your stomach telling you that someone had apparated the three of you, because when you blinked next, you were in the boys’ dorm. The latch on the door flicked locked with a quiet spell, and the needle on the record player lowered to begin crooning one of Mattheo’s favourite albums for these kinds of moments. 

You looked between them both, a twisted glee at having no idea who was who. One of them reached a hand out, brushing cold fingers along your cheek, and you leaned into his touch, peering into the dark spaces of the mask hiding his eyes. 

“I think this moment deserves a picture, don’t you?” One of them whispered, head tipping to the other, and a condescending and arousing chuckle made you shudder with anticipation. In a flurry of moving hands and bodies, you found yourself kneeling before the full-length mirror in the room, both of the masked men standing behind you. One had your hair twisted around his hand loosely, as the other held the camera. 

Click. 

“So pretty.” Came a quiet mumble, you weren’t even sure which man said it, but it made you flush and smile nonetheless. Untwisting his hand from your hair, he offered it to you instead, your fingers settling over his own as he helped you back to your feet. With a small tug, you were tumbling into his body, a gasp leaving you as your back settled on his chest.

The next photo came as you stood, your head rolled back onto a shoulder, and your dress pulled down to bunch around your waist, leaving your breasts and lacy bra on show. Large hands covered your tits, squeezing appreciatively as your vision spotted from the flash of the little Polaroid once again. 

Click. 

“Guess who?” The voice purred beside your ear, those hands moving to your hips, your thighs, tracing your body as though a new wonder before him. 

“Theo?” You whispered, tipping your head to come face to face with the mask. 

“Wrong.” The one holding the camera said, and a whimper slipped from your throat as Mattheo slapped your arse with just the kind of punishing pressure he knew so well. Biting down on your lip, you let them readjust you, slipping your eyes closed as you stood in the centre of the room. Someone tugged your dress the rest of the way down, someone held your hips as you slipped out of your heels, and then someone was flicking open the catch on your bra, until you were stood naked in the centre of the room. 

For a long moment, nobody touched you at all, and your nerves skittered at the thrill, breath catching in your throat.

Then, warm hands without the leather gloves now were on your body. Behind you, their breath on your neck, hands skimming up your arms lightly, and you gasped. You understood the game they wanted to play.

“Theo?” You whispered, sure you’d guessed correctly this time, with the reverent and cautious touch it seemed to be. The sharp sting of a hand coming down across your arse proved you wrong. 

“Nope.”

The figure stepped away from you, and your fingers twitched to reach out, your lips pulling in a grin as you waited for the next set of hands to come. When they did, it was without hesitation, two large hands closing over the top of your bra, and taking an appreciative squeeze. 

The force with which he grabbed you pulled you back into his chest, and you chuckled, tipping your head until you could feel the beat of his heart against you. 

“Theo.”

You were certain of that, getting a rumbling him against your back, and a kiss to your shoulder blades as he backed away, confirming your choice. 

The next touch was on your stomach, knuckles skimming in a featherlight touch over your skin, circling your navel, before fingertips traced the top of your panties. Snapping the elastic against your skin, he drew a breathy moan from you. “Matty.”

“Wrong.” His words were punctuated with a slap, your legs shaking with the impact, and you clenched your thighs together, forcing your eyes to stay closed no matter how much you wanted to open them. The camera never stopped clicking, observing you and recording you in the moment of erotic vulnerability.

A handful of tense moments passed this time, you were sure they were communicating something outside of your knowledge. There seemed to be no order or system to their touches, nothing you could latch onto, leaving you completely in the dark, and it was thrilling. 

A light touch traced its way up the inside of your thighs, a contrast to the foot that roughly kicked the insides of your feet, forcing your thighs to open wider. The other hand was on your back, tracing your spine until he pushed between your shoulders forcing you to bend. And as you did, those same fingers traced your cunt through your underwear, drawing an impatient whine from you as you were forced to keep waiting. “Teddy?”

“Wrong again,” Came Mattheo’s amused voice, and this time, you didn’t get a spank across your arse, but instead, a pinch to your clit that made your entire body jerk. 

“That was Mattheo.” You squeaked, familiar with his antics and the way he touched your body, and a face in front of you laughed. Cracking your eyes open to peer at someone so familiar and yet so unfamiliar at the same time, he smirked at you. 

“That was an obvious one.”

“Mhm.” Licking across your lower lip, you pushed forward, eager to close the distance and kiss your boyfriend for the first time tonight. He let you, his mouth sealing against your own in comforting familiarity, his hands holding your jaw as he straightened you back up.

His tongue played with your own while he guided you backwards until he was lowering you onto the bed, his knee between your thighs to grind on, pressing against your aching core and giving you the relief you so desperately needed. “You’re so wet, sweetheart. Is this getting’ you going?” He teased, raising your hands above you, and all you could do was nod and moan. His hand cupped your face, his thumb rubbing across your cheek, as his mouth trailed your jaw on the other side. 

When he’d finished marking his favourite spot on your neck, leaving the skin stinging in the best way possible with his prints, he pulled away once again. He flipped you over, onto your stomach, undoing the catch on your bra and letting you shake your arms out of it, before you were without touch once again, back to both of your men as they stood behind you. 

Face down in the bed, you once again lost track of who was who, feeling another set of hands snaking their way up your thighs, into the lace of your panties. Inching them own, slowly, so slowly, another hand laced into your hair, pulling your head up from the bedding, and a body pressed against your back, the camera flashing in your face once again. 

“Oh, fuck.” You whined, the desperation beginning to cloud any semblance of morals or judgement you might’ve had left far more than any potion ever could. “Enough pictures, I need you, please!”

“Who do you need, baby? Who’s on their knees for you, huh? Get it right, and you can have it.” Clenching your thighs, you keened, throwing an arrogant smirk over your shoulder. 

“Theo.”

They both paused for a second before Mattheo chuckled. “How’d you know?”

“Because when you eat me out, Matty, you bite me first.” Your smirk was countered with a spank to the back of your thighs, and Theo sank his teeth into one of your arse cheeks as a consequence for your attitude, but it was worth it. 

Flipping up your skirt and exposing the sensitive skin of your backside to the room, Theo blew a streak of cold air across your bare pussy, making you jerk forwards with a startled gasp. “I’ve wanted to get my mouth between your legs for so long, bella. You have no idea how often I think about this.”

With that, Theo licked a long stripe up your dripping folds, and his moan was almost as loud as yours as he got a taste. Like a man possessed, Theo began to eat. He didn’t hold back, not even for a moment, confident in his movements as he proved all those rumours true. Girls loved to talk, Theo was a hot topic in gossip groups, and you were ashamed of how often you’d listened in. Now, you knew it all to be true.

You were just beginning to lose yourself to the feeling, hips rocking against Theo’s face as he eagerly encouraged the actions, when your head was yanked up, to meet another ghost-faced mask peering down at you. You were sure your heart had stopped beating altogether. 

Kneeling before you on the bed was Mattheo. If you weren’t well aware by this point that Theo was the one on his knees behind you, devouring you like you were his final meal, you’d have recognised Mattheo by his cock alone. Pretty pink tip and a slight curve that always hit just right, the silvery bead of arousal running down his tip and into his fingers as he pumped slowly made your mouth water. 

His fingers brushed your cheek, settling on your jaw, and you opened your mouth for him. 

“My good girl.” He murmured, allowing you enough time to prop yourself up on your elbows before the heated head of his cock found its way between your lips and settled like a heavy weight on your tongue. The salty taste of him was familiar, slicking across your tastebuds as you swirled your tongue around him, a deep and throaty rumble echoing from his chest as he settled back. 

With your hips pinned to the bed, your cries of pleasure were muffled by the cock in your mouth, he switched between fucking you with his tongue and teasing your clit. The sensations were overwhelming, so much going on that your head was spinning.

Kneeling there, thick thighs spread as your hands smoothed up them, you moaned around Mattheo, passing on the pleasure Theo made you feel. Sliding one hand up higher as the other supported you, your head bobbed, fingertips raking his flexing abs under his shirt. Tugging on a handful of the material, Mattheo tipped his covered face back to you, and you swore you could feel his smirk under the mask in the mere way he tilted his head. 

Pulling back with an obscene pop, you gasped for air, straightening your arm and leaning up as far as you could, while Theo still brutally gripped your hips to keep you in place against his face. “Please, Matty, take it off.”

With a mutter, his shirt disappeared, the chain you knew so well hanging around his neck, glinting in the warm lights against the glow of his skin. He held your face in his hands, pulling you up, and the mouth of the mask pressed against your lips. The taste of him through the fabric made your head spin, rationale abandoning you once again as you kissed him through the mask. 

His fingers threaded into your hair, tightening ever so slightly, as he pushed your head back down. “Suck, sweetheart.”

You dropped on shaky arms, taking the length of him down your throat once again, using him to muffle the sounds of your moans from Theo’s relentless assault on your cunt. The pressure building inside of you swelled, your hips grinding back against Theo’s face, pushing into the security of his hands on your body as he held so tight he’d bruise. With a cry around Mattheo’s cock, you fell apart. 

Your boyfriend pulled back as you came, your shouts and pleas exposed to the room as you trembled through an incredible orgasm. Theo kept up with you, every wave and dip, until you were boneless and spent on the bed. 

But he never stopped. 

Your fingers twisted in the sheets, a sensitive mewl escaping you, and as you tried to claw your way up the mattress, Theo pulled back, biting at your inner thigh. 

“You’re not going anywhere, dolcezza. I’ve waited so long for this, and who knows if I’ll ever get the chance again. I’m making the most of this. And I’m not finished.”

Mattheo slid off the bed as Theo flipped you over, letting you face the ceiling instead of the sheets now as he lifted one knee over each of his shoulders, his arms banding around your thighs. It locked you where you were, splayed open and unable to escape as he dove back in. 

Your back arched, head pressing into the mattress as his assault began anew on your overly sensitive cunt. As he worked, his own moans increased in volume and urgency, and you found the strength to lift your head for only a moment. Kneeling on the floor behind the maskless stranger that you knew to be Theo, was Mattheo. Now without his mask too, messy curls on display again, Theo sank two fingers into your core and scissored them open, freeing himself up to toss his head back onto Mattheo’s shoulder. 

Mattheo was kissing and biting his way along Theo’s shoulder and up his throat, his arm around Theo’s body moving in a way that you knew exactly why Theo was moaning in such a way. When Mattheo’s kisses reached high enough, Theo twisted his head, lips locking on Mattheo’s, and you clenched down around his fingers, dropping your head back to the bedding at the sight. 

Theo switched between kissing your boyfriend and kissing your pussy, both involving copious amounts of tongue, as his fingers never let up inside of you. Already being so overstimulated, it didn’t take long until you were teetering on the brink of another earth-shattering climax, ears ringing with your noise and Theo’s. 

Hopefully, everybody was at the party, because you’d forgotten to cast a Muffliato and there was no doubt that anyone passing by would be able to hear your moans. That, and the needy sounds Theo was making as Mattheo worked him closer and closer to the edge. 

When you finally came again, your body shook and trembled against the mattress, legs snapping closed as your wetness soaked your thighs, and you gasped for burning breaths amid the delirious pleasure. On the floor, Mattheo tugged an overstimulated Theo’s head back with a fistful of his golden hair, and bit the lobe of his ear, hard. Theo’s eyes rolled back happily as Mattheo mumbled, “Don’t you dare come yet, pretty boy, I have plans for you.”

With that, Theo was whining pathetically as Mattheo retracted from touching him at all, rocking to his feet with far too much arrogant ease for the state both you and Theo rendered to. The final pieces of clothing between the three of you were shed, somewhere between Theo pulling Mattheo in for desperate kisses, and Mattheo mumbling into the snog about how long he’s desired this. You watched, through hooded eyes, as the tangled men stumbled their way towards you, hips grinding together through decreasing layers of clothing, until Mattheo was gripping them both in his hand to thrust together. 

You threw an arm over your eyes, too turned on by the sight before you to even catch your breath, and the mattress was soon bouncing as another body hit it. You found yourself lying beside Theo on the bed, his features ever so slowly starting to seep back into focus. The potion was nearing its end, and the smile on his swollen lips was familiar as he leaned over to kiss you. 

“Hi, bella.”

“Hi, Teddy.” You grinned as his mouth slanted against your own, a heady mix of Mattheo’s flavour, your arousal, and simply him, all meeting in the kiss. It was enough to melt you into his arms in half a second. Theo rolled onto his back, bringing you with him, and you yelped as Mattheo gripped your hips and lifted you to straddle Theo properly. 

“You looked so pretty squirming in his lap before, baby. Show me again.” Mattheo mocked, and you had no doubt you were far from pretty, now. Your tears would’ve ruined your makeup, smeared into your hands or the sheets, you no doubt looked like a fucked-out mess, but the only thing you saw reflected in either of their gazes was raw, primal desire. 

Theo slipped a hand from your hip to his cock, notching the leaking tip to your entrance, already stretched out from his previous activities. You were clenching around nothing, your whining reaching your ears, fading out into moans as he slowly sank into you. Inch by inch, Theo was stretching you out for the first time this evening. He was longer than Mattheo, surpassing any depths you’d ever been fucked to before, and your eyes rolled back, panting through shallowed breaths as you pushed back against him until you were filled. 

It truly felt like he was splitting you in half, the tip of his cock pressing so deep and the outline of him present on your stomach. You traced the bulge of him with a sick kind of thrill. “So big, Teddy.”

“That's because I’ve never been this turned on in my fucking life. Merde.” He wheezed, his head pressing back into the bedding behind his head. Mattheo chuckled from behind you both, his kisses leading up your spine as you sat in Theo’s lap, adjusting to the fill of him. 

“Look at my sweethearts, already so spent,” Mattheo murmured, hooking his chin over your shoulder, his arm snaking around your waist to toy slowly with your throbbing clit. As your hips began to move, Theo’s jaw dropped open, and his eyes constantly moved between where you met, your face, and Mattheo. He couldn't decide where to look or what to watch, as Mattheo littered your mouth with hickeys behind you, and you rode Theo. 

The potions were finally wearing off, and you were thrilled to see the familiar features reappear. Beneath you, at last, Theo came into full focus. His messy hair, his flushed cheeks, swollen lips and shining eyes. He was the most beautiful you’d ever seen him, and that was saying something because he was gorgeous every moment of every damn day. You couldn't help yourself as you smiled, and he beamed back with genuine emotion, not just lust.

Rocking your hips needily against his own, chasing both of your climaxes, you leaned down to him and smothered his lips with your own. He kissed back just as tenderly, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, and he sighed in a soft manner as your fingers slipped into his hair, and your tongue tangled with his. 

He settled for propping himself up during the kiss, giving you the perfect place to lean against his chest. Finally finding himself and crooking his legs behind you, his motions tossed you forward a little more, your mouths parting with your surprised gasp. He smirked as you lost your momentum and power, only to hand it all over to him as he began to thrust up into you from below. In your new position, Mattheo let out a contented sound at the sight, running calloused hands down the sides of your ribs, over your hips, and to your arse. 

Pulling your cheeks apart, he whispered a new spell you’d been experimenting with lately, and the warm, wet sensation of a lubricating charm trickled out from between your cheeks. A fingertip teased your puckering hole, sliding in to the first knuckle, and then deeper. 

“Think you can take us both, baby?” Mattheo asked, teasing, but genuine concern coated his voice through the lust, and when you nodded frantically, it wasn’t enough. 

“Both?” Theo panted, his thrusts slowing to a stop as you pushed yourself back onto what was now two of Mattheo’s fingers, stretching you open to take a second cock. “Oh, fuck, you’re— voi due siete come se il mio sogno più bello diventasse realtà.” Theo moaned, his hands holding your hips tight as he slammed a single, frantically hard thrust into you and then stilling for Mattheo.

“Yes or no, sweetheart? I don’t want to—”

“Yes, Mattheo! Merlin, yes, please! Please, do it.” Your begging was hurried and blurred, no longer capable of proper thought of speech, all you knew was what you needed from him. From them both. 

Mattheo slipped his fingers out of you, gripping his cock and spitting down onto himself, smearing it around his cock in the wetness already gathered, and positioning himself. At the sight, Theo whined again, “Me next,” He mumbled, and Mattheo laughed breathlessly. 

“To be spat on, or to be fucked up the arse?” Mattheo questioned, sinking himself into you slowly, and your eyes rolled back. 

“Cazzo, what kind of question is that? Both. Absolutely both.” Theo yapped, only drowned out by the volume of the sound you made. Pornographic, filthy, and uncontrollable. Your arms finally gave way, and you collapsed down to be cradled against Theo’s chest as you were finally filled with them both. It was so much it was overwhelming, in the best way possible, and you knew now that you were definitely being split in two this time. It was exquisite. 

Beginning to rock their hips into you, the two soon found a pace and worked together, and you lost yourself to the pleasure of it. Pure, unadulterated bliss took you over, the feeling spreading to the tips of your fingers and toes, and clouding everything thought in your head that wasn't begging or their names. Your body rocked with them, your throat raw, and it wasn’t long before the feelings were all consuming. 

Catapulting over the brink of bliss, a feeling you’d only experienced once or twice before took hold of you. Your juices gushed from you, a mess that soaked both the man under you as well as the one behind you. Mattheo praised you through an orgasm that came with so much force you were sure you blacked out for a moment, while Theo rode you through it and observed in awe. Your heart was pounding so hard you felt as though you were hardly breathing, screams petering off into absolute silence as tears ran down your cheeks. It was perfect. 

Mattheo soon followed, emptying himself inside of you with a deep and feral growl, pressing you into Theo’s chest as his body collapsed against your own. Shaking against you through his bliss, Mattheo left a collection of fast, loving kisses along your neck and shoulders, before pulling you off of Theo. 

Letting you roll to the side and shudder through the aftershocks, Mattheo focused his attention on the other member of your trio. Theo couldn’t even find the words to complain before Mattheo was circling a finger and thumb around the base of Theo’s cock, following the creamy circle of your arousal, and squeezing. 

Theo’s back arched, his legs spasming, and the veins in his biceps stood out as his cheeks went red with the strain of his desperation. 

“No!” He howled, slamming a fist into the bedding, almost hitting the discarded camera, and your hand caught it just before it rolled off of the edge of the bed. Surprising, that it had survived there for this long. “Why, Matty? I was— I was—”

Theo’s voice cracked, tears lining his eyes at being held at the brink when he was so close to the edge, and he took gasping, audible breaths as he tried to settle himself, sniffling. 

“I know, my pretty boy, I know,” Mattheo whispered, leaning down to kiss Theo’s frown. “You can come, just let me get my mouth on you first. I’ve always wanted you to come down my throat, I just needed you to hold off for me.” 

Theo let out a pained groan at that, his anger fading away as he nodded, and he slipped long fingers into dark curls before your very eyes as Mattheo descended upon his best friend’s cock. 

He dragged his tongue along the entire length of him, licking your juices from Theo’s skin, and his cock twitched dangerously. Taking the hint, Mattheo swallowed him down, and he wasn’t even halfway before Theo’s back arched, and he came. 

It was a beautiful sight and sound, both you and Mattheo watching in admiration as Theo finally reached his peak. Positioning the camera in your unsteady hands, you snapped a picture of the sight before you. Theo’s arched back, Mattheo with his flushed cheeks stuffed full, watching the man he was pleasuring. 

Click.

At the flash in the room, Mattheo’s focus moved to you, a wicked look flashing in those pretty eyes as he sucked one more time against Theo’s cock, before pulling back. He opened his mouth, tongue out, a picture of perfect filth as he showed just how much come Theo had released, dripping across his tongue. 

Click.

He took the camera from your hands and tossed it to the ground the second the photo was out, leaning down to kiss you messily and share the prize he’d won. Hurried kisses with Mattheo slowed as Theo’s taste seeped away, and your racing hearts all managed to settle.

The three of you lay in the bed, slowly gathering yourselves once again as you came back down from orbit. You were covered in bruises and bites, Theo was covered in your scratches and hickeys, and Mattheo was just a mess. The room smelled of sweat, sex, and weed Mattheo sparked up. Theo uttered a few charms and spells, whatever he could think of as you all basked in the afterglow, sharing the spliff between you.

Curling onto your side when it was finished, you caught Mattheo’s eye over the top of Theo’s chest, the grin he wore told you just how content and satisfied he was with the night’s events. Theo lifted an arm, brushing it through his hair with a heavy sigh, and when he lowered it back down, you caught his hand. 

Lacing his fingers with your own and snuggling in closer, your cheek came to rest on his shoulder as you kissed his knuckles. “That was incredible.” You whispered into the room, the music sputtering out and the lights lowering to fade out with a click of Mattheo’s fingers. 

“We’re doing that again soon, right?” Mattheo asked, prompting tired laughs from both you and Theo. “What? I haven’t even begun to scratch off the bucket list of things I want the three of us to do together.”

[diejager]

This is omegaverse related so please here me out… What about something different? What about…

A

Feral Omega?

I’m talking like, this omega isn’t your typical omega. This omega is downright dangerous, reports of Omega going feral but causes of harm to them due to some omega discrimination.

So what if, reader who is feral omega, is down right butchering enemies. And doesn’t hesitate to almost maul some alpha recruits if they want to mess with her..

Cw: omegaverse, feral!reader, violence, blood, weird pack dynamic, discrimination, protective behaviour, tell me if I missed any.

You were a ‘one-of-a-kind’ omega —spoken with utmost reverence by them. You were their strong and independent omega, whispered in crowded halls, mumbled in darkest nights, screamed in busy moments, and kissed to in warm and comfortable beds. You were anything but a strong and dedicated and reliable soldier, someone Ghost had grown to respect after a joint Op, then coaxed to rely on by the others when they saw how welcoming Ghost was and simply how skillful you were at your job. 

You were small but spry, less bulky but flexible, weaker but resourceful. You were everything they sought for in an omega. You were so much alike Soap, yet molecularly different. Though it was every alpha’s dream of finding a soft and loving mate to provide and protect for, someone smaller and more fragile than their thick muscles and broad build, there was a thrill in being reminded that they weren’t always at the top, being grounded and brought back down from their high horses. Against all of traditional mating couples, your current age and time had demanded more equal partnering, a relationship where both parties stood on the same ground. 

And Ghost and Price thrived on that, their employment demanded a level of independence from their mates and pack mates, the capability of standing on their own and manage grief and stress. That’s where Soap stood, an omega at it’s finest, strong and independent and emotionally knowledgeable, the glue to their pack, and Gaz, the stabiliser, the soft and gentle hand that reminded them of who they were. 

Then you came bulldozing through their well-built dynamic: feral and wrathful, full of hate and anger for the world who had wronged you. When the military had rejected you for both your sex and gender, you’d worked up the ranks in the CIA with your blood, sweat and tears, starting from a fresh agent - a rookie - to an experienced one. You’d gotten so far that Laswell had eventually reach out to you, acknowledged by someone so powerful and partnered with The Ghost had gotten you the acknowledgment and respect you’d dreamed of. 

It was a rough start with Ghost, but he learned to rely on you as much as you did him, you had formed a mutual understanding that only grew into fondness after meeting the rest of his pack. They were a functioning mix of weird and quirky: a leading alpha that was a big, soft bear, another alpha that was rough on the edge but caring, an overenergetic and fiery omega and a beta that represented everything you liked in one, calm, open-minded and smart. It was odd seeing you join them so often and continuously on Ops that didn’t need much of CIA intervention, but you all made it work.

You’d become a familiar face on base, a blunt and no-nonsense agent to new people, but cracked jokes and smiled with those you knew. Fiercely protective of your pack as much as they were with you. If Soap was a menace, then you were an omen, your deep frown and growling snarl, baring your teeth as a warning before you attacked. The world had taught you to bark and bite —and bite you did, a strong and dangerous one, leaving you bruised and roughed up, but your opponent gasping for life and battered.

Honestly, sometimes you were more trouble than it’s worth, but wouldn’t have it any other way.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @haven-1307 @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[cepheustarot]

What is the character of your future spouse?

Attention! This reading is for entertainment purposes only. This tarot reading does not give a 100% guarantee that all the described situations will occur or being ultimate truth. You build your own life and destiny and only you know yourself best.

✧ Masterlist ✧ Paid readings

Pick a pile. Choose one or more pictures. Trust your intuition.

Pile 1: At first glance your future spouse looks like a very inaccessible, complex person, whom it is difficult to get close to and generally interest them in communication but the closer you get to know them, the more reveals themself to you as a very kind, caring, gentle person, ready to support you and help you in difficult times. I can say that this person has two sides and they decide which side to show themselves, depending on whether they consider you close, trust you or not (but in your case they will definitely consider you close, a loved one who can be trusted). They are those who rely on their intelligence and rationality, but often act based on their intuition, they have a lot of life experience. They are prudent, they know how to solve problems, how to find a way out of a situation, they often "do not look for easy ways", they can complicate their lives but this is because they want to do something different, bring something new to life, get a new experience. They are quite hardworking, they work very hard, mostly their work is in mental activity, so can quickly get tired of this. They like to reflect, share their deep thoughts, they can also look for hidden meaning where it may not be. If you are interested in esotericism, then a person can support your hobby, discuss topics from this area with you, or treat neutrally and listen to you about it but they will never condemn you about it. Your future spouse will also treat you with great tenderness, love and care, will try to make you happier, you are a very valuable and dear person for them, they will always feel that they are not doing enough for you, although they may even overdo it in some ways, often cause you pleasant embarrassment. They also respect you, respect your opinion, your personal boundaries, your desires and they respect parents, yours and theirs.

Pile 2: Your future spouse is quite sensitive, gentle, romantic, sensitive, sentimental, a person of fine mental organization. They will love you with all their heart, will devote a lot of time and attention to you, most likely their language of love is words and gifts, they can often compliment you, notice details in your appearance or in your behavior, give you gifts. They are very kind people in themselves, they do not like to argue and participate in conflicts, they are quite calm in this regard, it is difficult to anger them but it is not difficult to offend or hurt their feelings. This person can also be private, someone who doesn't like to talk a lot about his sad thoughts and feelings, such as anger, sadness, resentment, etc. such emotions are suppressed and do not like to be exposed to the public. At the same time, your future spouse is a very smart, intelligent person, constantly engaged in self-development, improvement of their skills, promotion at work / study, they are quite active. They are also very fond of children and animals, so if you have any of these, they will treat them with all their love and care. They may also have younger siblings or nephews, whom they also treat well, do a lot for them. They may be creative people, engage in drawing, be interested in art, literature, music, may even work in this field or have a lot of knowledge in this field. They are also very spiritually developed, they can be religious. Your future spouse will support you in everything since you will be like the love of their life for them, they will protect you and treat you very carefully, they sincerely love you, they may even often tell their family, friends, and loved ones with great love about you. They show that they really love you, it is noticeable by their actions and by the way they look at you with love, talk about you, how they address you using affectionate words.

Pile 3: Your future spouse is a person who works very hard, both in terms of career and in terms of self-improvement, they are constantly busy with important things, they may hold a high position at work, they may have several businesses, they themselves may be business partners for someone. Also, your future spouse has a very attractive, beautiful and sexy appearance, good physique, they have an alluring charisma that is difficult to resist. They like to flirt with their lovers very much, they can be overbearing, as they love to feel dominant, they can be a little jealous and possessive. They are also very active, like a mobile lifestyle, like to travel a lot especially in the company of someone, like to be in a circle of people, they are quite sociable and will always find a topic for conversation, they know how to maintain a dialogue. They are very proud, self-confident individuals, and with this vibe they energize people around them, inspire and motivate them. At the same time, they are quite empathic people, they experience the hardships of others as if they themselves had encountered them, in this regard they can be quite sensitive. They also tend to think about their shortcomings, fixate on failures and at such moments it is important to support them, show that they are loved and very successful people.

Thank you for reading! I will be glad of any feedback 🖤

[carbondioxidewater]

The girl is yours

What happens when Shiu falls in love with Toji's gf?Randomly had that in mind, enjoy! (I love angst so much hehe <3)

Toji x fem!reader, Shiu x fem!reader

warnings: angst, mentions of killing

word count: 834

Intense, passionate, transcendental.

That's how you would describe your relationship with Toji. You two were inseparably and irrevocably in love. Anyone could see it, especially your closest friend - or could you even call him that? - Shiu Kong.

It was true, you spent a lot of time together - the three of you. He was Toji's handler after all. Whenever Toji could take you with him on a mission, he would, protecting you and showing off at the same time. How crazy he was for you.

When he couldn't, because the mission was too dangerous and he had to fully concentrate on it, he left you with Shiu. He trusted him.

Even if Shiu refused at first - not wanting to play the babysitter for Toji's girl - he didn't really have a choice, so that whenever Toji was finished killing people (or whatever was his mission), the first thing he could see was you, the first thing he could do was kiss your pretty lips - hungrily, as if it's been years since he last had them on yours. And Shiu? He eventually grew used to your presence next to him.

He grew used to it so much that it was straight up torture for him whenever you weren't at his side for once and accompanied Toji on his missions. It wasn't long before he craved you and he knew he was doomed. Not only Toji was undeniably in love with you now, you managed to evoke the same feelings in Shiu.

But no one noticed, because he swore to himself he would never act on those hidden feelings, keeping them safe and secret from the outside of his rapid beating heart.

And Toji didn't notice - not until that one time when Shiu protected you from a sudden threat not even Toji would have been quick enough for to block. And when he hugged you after, Toji could see all the longing in his melancholic eyes, his emotions pouring out into the soft embrace of his strong arms around your much more fragile body.

But Toji didn't say anything, he didn't do anything, he just glanced back at him knowingly when you found your way back to him, sliding your arm around his, and bid goodbye by a simple nod upwards.

From then on, he noticed even more the feelings Shiu harbored for you and he couldn't believe he had been so blind to all of this before. But he didn't treat him differently from then on.

Because after all, he still trusted him.

And he almost felt bad for him if it wasn't you he liked, because you were so oblivious to the slight change in his behavior whenever you were around that no one would even take the possibility of him being infatuated with you into consideration if they didn't know of it beforehand.

Toji could see the hurt in his eyes when your gaze shifted from Shiu to him after coming back from another rough day, seeing how you immediately lit up in his company - your smile filled the heart of one and simultaneously broke the one of the other.

Shiu even helped you surprising Toji oftentimes while breaking on the inside because he knew he could never have you, that this side of you will never be dedicated to him, that you'd always be Toji's girl.

But that was only half true, because one day, Toji didn't make it, one day he didn't finish his mission. And Shiu knew it, because before Toji even went on this mission, he pulled him aside and had the talk with him.

To know Toji knew of his fondness towards you for so long shocked him less than the fact that he still let you around him after this revelation.

"I'm entrusting you with her safety. Love her for the both of us, 'cause I won't be able to anymore."

Those were his last words. And he promised him he would fulfill his last wish, even though he knew Toji didn't want to leave you with every fibre of his being, he just got himself too deep into dangerous affairs.

And Toji smiled, because after all, he still trusted him. Now more than ever.

And slowly, after a lot of time, he kept his promise. If out of hurt or out of comfort, you gradually started to let Shiu in. You let him console you with his love and eventually accepted him as a partner. But there was always a glimmer in your eyes, a glimmer of sadness that still made you cry yourself to sleep some nights - after so many years. He couldn't do anything. The loss broke you.

He was your partner, but not your lover.

And he knew that you'd never be able to truly love him. Not the way you loved and keep loving Toji. He is the love of your life and will continue to be.

Now he had you, but you were still Toji's girl.

[ichangedmycornyahhname]

Earth 42!Miles x Reader

The buzzing of the drill was soon drowned out by the shattering glass.

Summary: After a talk with Miles, reader finds herself at the nail salon. She was treating herself, just as he had requested. But that self care day soon turns into much more. Part 1. Here

Warnings: A little angst? Violence | Cursing | Some spice I suppose. | I’m gonna warn y’all now, I do not speak Spanish fluently at all, so if anything is wrong grammatically please correct me. | I’m actually thinking of making this into a mini series? Maybe a part. 3 after this. Also! Open to some title ideas.

Miles kept his promise. He sent her money to get her nails done. Which is why now she sat in her usual salon, her friend Roxanne drilling at her nails. The salon was hidden deep within the city, a little hole in the wall. With New York in shambles, people had to find some sort of way to feel normal. “What design are we doing this time Y/N? Freestyle again?” Y/N shook her head at her pink haired friend, causing her Roxy to smirk. “Oh, I see. What’s the idea then?”

“Was thinking of doing purple and black. Maybe a little green.” Those were Miles signature colors. His prowler costume consisted of different shades of purple and black, and she was sure her friend could come up with something good. “Hm, that’s new. Alright whatever you say.” Roxy gave a fond smile before getting to work. As she did so, Y/N found herself pondering on what to do after getting her nails done. Maybe go get some food, check on a few friends, avoid the crooks on every street. Possibly invite Miles over for a late night rendezvous. She sighed at the thought. She was completely smitten with the guy.

As time went by, and Roxy made quick progress, a low rumble began to stir beneath their feet. Followed by the loud roar of an engine. She traded a look with Roxy, who had a brow raised in suspicion. “You feel that too?” She questioned as the drill buzzed just above Y/Ns nail. “Yeah, what the hell is that?” She replied to the woman with dyed hair. It wasn’t just the two who noticed. Most people within the nail salon glanced around, concerned and confused by the sudden rumbling. The same rumbling that suddenly stopped. “Maybe it’s construction.” Roxy chimed, doing her best to stay optimistic. Then she got right back to work. The drill buzzed, shaving down the black base of the nail. “What’s got you so preppy? You still with that guy?” Y/N flushed at the question, her gaze averting from Roxy’s. “Yeah, we’re still together. He’s a really good guy, just really busy.” She fawned. “That’s good, glad you’re doing well girl. Was getting worried about you after the whole..” Roxy’s voice trailed off, and Y/N took this as a chance to cut in, “I’m fine Rox, he makes me feel happy. I promise.” She gave her a look of confirmation and Roxanne only nodded.

The atmosphere of the salon was pleasant, relaxing. She found herself spacing out, her eyes focusing in on nothing too important while she lightly bopped her head to the music playing in the background. Then the rumbling returned, and much louder this time around. It sounded close, too close for comfort. Following the noise, her eyes landed on an incoming cop car. She could barely make out the sparking metal of the rim where the missing tire was before the car skidded onto the it’s side and tumbled into the big front window of the salon. The crashing of glass filled the shop, along with the blaring siren and tumbling debris. Y/N ducked down at the sight of the crash, pulling Roxy along with her as the broken down car came to a slow stop in the middle of the salon.

Amidst the carnage, she could faintly make out the crumpled figure of a cop within the drivers seat. She had no clue who the guy was. In fact, she had no clue what was even going on. All she knew was the salon was in utter ruins, and the car was spilling oil into a large puddle beneath it. She felt overwhelmed by the sight. By the sirens ringing in her ears, by the smoke rising from the cars engine. “Holy fuck..Rox we gotta get out of here!” She half whispered half shouted. Her hand found Roxy’s, giving it a light tug as she led the shell shocked woman to the wide opening left by the car. “Hurry up girl..! I’m not trying to die here..” She almost hissed. As they made their way past the wrecked car, the smoke from the debris and vehicle flooded their lungs. Roxy began to cough, heavy and intense. This would’ve caught her attention if the incoming villain didn’t. He was large, bulky, and clad in dark angular armor. His aura oozed superiority, while his hardly visible eyes were stuck on the cop unconscious in the car. It would seem the armored man had a target. With this new found knowledge (assumption), she made haste towards the exit, somehow managing to slither out without catching the attention of the man in armor. “Rox..we gotta get out of here man. Before that big dude spots us..” She muttered as they hid behind large pieces of debris. Her eyes took a glance over the fallen pieces of building, the sight of the man approaching the car bringing a sort of relief to her. “What are you talking about Y/N? We can’t leave that cop in there. That guy will kill him..!” Y/Ns jaw slacked, shocked by her friends desire to rush into danger. “The hell are you talking about? We’ll be squashed like bugs if we go in there..” She found Roxy’s arm, and have it a harsh squeeze as she tried to get the woman to stay back. Though it would seem to be pointless. Roxy was already slipping away and sneaking her way back into the building.

Y/Ns hands found her hair. Her fingers tugged at the root as she watched frantically as her friend entered the building once more. “What the hell am I supposed to do. I can’t fight that dude he’s fucking huge..and I’ll be caught if I-“ She paused mid sentence as she came to a realization. And soon she was dialing Miles’ number, hoping that the fool would answer his phone.

“Please pick up..please..fuck.” Click, “Yeah, what’s up ma?”

“Oh thank fuck-“ A breath of relief left her now chapped lips, she had never been so thankful to hear his voice. “Miles, baby, you need to come quick!.. I was getting my nails done and then a cop car bursted through the damn window..now some big armor dude is about to kill him and my friend is trying to be a hero tryna save him..” Her words were quick, breathy, and frantic. And Miles immediately took notice of this. “Im..im at my usual place. Need you to hurry.” She whispered into the phone as she attempted to peek over to the scene that was unfolding.

“I’m on my way now.” Was all she received from her boyfriend. She wanted to respond, truly. But her tongue was tied, and her friend was about to be fighting for her life. Roxy had managed to get the cop out of the car, now dragging him out as quickly as she could, slippery streams of oil leaving a trail behind. “Cmon Rox..” She had long forgotten about her phone, and found herself at a crossroads. Should she help, be the good person she was raised to be? Or should she sit there and do nothing? She gulped, her hand visibly shaking around her phone as she mentally began to hype herself up. She had no clue what the rhino was doing this in the middle of the day, or any clue why he was only after the cop. But what she did know was that her friend was in danger. “Y/N? What’re you about to do?” She heard from the other side of the line. However, she didn’t reply. Instead she rushed over, still crouched down behind rubble as she made her way inside. “Rox! Rox..cmon grab his heavy ass and let’s get the hell out of here.” She cursed out as she found the man’s arm and tugged him away from the car, he was much more heavy than she had anticipated. “Thank you Y/N.” Roxy replied before tugging at the cops other arm. They worked to pull him out as quickly as possible, but the rhino took notice of this. His hard glare turned deadly, and he visibly uttered something inaudible to the panicking woman. “Hurry! Hurry!”

He growled, his head lowering as he changed positions. At first, she wasn’t sure what he was doing, and then she realized. He was charging, at them.

She dropped the cops arm and attempted to pull Roxanne off of the cop, her movements quick and frantic. And she almost budged, but it would seem as though shock had gotten to her, her grip unbreakable. “Roxy cmon!” She screamed, shrill with panic. They were going to die. They were going to die in a broke down nail salon because her friend wanted to save a cop. Y/Ns eyes slammed shut as she waited for the inevitable. Her breath caught in her throat at the incoming impact, but it never came. Instead the crash of another vehicle caused her ears to ring, followed by large hands shaking her out of her fear. “Hey. Hey you okay? Talk to me!” Her eyes shot open, her hands coming up to wrap around the figures wrists. “M- Mil- prowler.” She was absolutely relieved to see him, to hear that robotic filter on his voice as she stared at his mask. “I’m..okay..where’s uhm.” She took a moment, swallowing as she gathered herself. Her heart was still pounding in her chest, and her body was shaking with unease. She swallowed, spit wetting her dry mouth. Quickly she collected herself. “Roxy, where’s Roxy? And that cop?”

“They’re fine, but we gotta go before that dude wakes up. Cmon.” He said as he turned around and pulled her onto his back. She didn’t bother arguing, she didn’t have the energy. Somehow, Miles managed to drag all three of them out of the crash sight and far enough out of harms way. It was a dingy alley way, trash and other none-sense tossed around. Y/N was still resting on his back, her cheek pressed against his shoulder as her arms wrapped around his neck. “Thought I was gonna die back there.” She uttered the words, but he heard them loud and clear. “Nah, I would never let that happen. You know that mami. I called the cops for your friend and that man. You’re coming home with me.” He wasn’t asking, he was telling, and she was perfectly fine with that.

-

Miles slipped into his apartment through the window, and trudged inside. He tossed his metal gauntlet onto the floor, his hands free to lay her onto his bed. The plush mattress underneath her body managing to relax her muscles. Miles didn’t join her in bed immediately. Instead he was packing his suit up along with his gauntlets, before stepping back over. Now in a simple black tank top and sweats. His gaze was soft, solemn even. His hand found a strand of her hair, fiddling with it as he watched her cautiously. “Wanna go clean up? I can start a bath or shower for you..” He asked as he took a seat on the bed beside her.

“Yeah, all this damn dust and sweat is gonna make me look a hot mess.” He gave a small chuckle at her joke, though he wasn’t all to amused by the entire situation. He figured it was best to get her comfortable before talking about anything. “Ight. Cmon then ma.” His hands went under her body, picking her up princess style and bringing her over to the bathroom. “I’ll bring you a towel and wash cloth, just gimme a sec.” He gently set her down, his hand lingering on her arm before he left only to briefly return.

“I left some clothes for you on the counter.” He mentioned before placing a kiss upon her forehead and departing from the restroom. She smiled, thankful for his presence. And soon she hopped in the shower. It was relaxing, the hot water pattering gently across her skin. The feeling of cleanliness as she washed the remainders of the day away.

Eventually, she was hopping out of the shower and putting the clothes he had given her on. It wasn’t anything special. Just a pair of his shorts and a shirt, but it felt special to her. Y/N made her way through Miles (Rio’s) apartment, finding her way into the kitchen to snatch up a few snacks. Thankfully Mrs. Morales was fast asleep in her room, so she went without questioning. Y/N made her way back to Miles’ room, entering and shutting the door behind her. His room was mature, calm colors, basic necessities. The usual stuff. Plus his punching bag that she played with on the occasion. From the windows opening, she could see the moons light shining through. She was a bit surprised to see how dark it had gotten. But, she had no issue with it. Not when she was still alive. She gave Miles a faint smile, “Don’t think I’ve ever been so thankful for a shower.” She chimed jokingly as she set the snacks down onto the bedside table. Then she plopped back down on his bed and wrapped herself up in his blanket. Miles was currently standing in front of his closet, fiddling with a glove from his suit as though he was contemplating something. This caught her attention. Sitting up, she sighed. “So, how exactly did you beat that guy?” She inquired, which caused his eyes to meet hers.

“Threw my motorcycle at him. Knocked him down long enough to get you out.” He said before tossing his glove onto his desk chair and making his way over to the bed. Her jaw was wide at his explanation, surprised at his confession. “Your motorcycle? Are you serious babe? That’s fucking crazy.” He only smirked as his hands intruded the blanket and his arms wrapped firmly around her torso. “I’ll just make another one with Unc.” His weight caused her to fall back on his bed, her head now snug in his pillow. His arms felt comforting around her as his head rested on her chest, his soft breaths managing to calm her down. Her hands found his hair, now fiddling with the ends of his braids. Sure, it wasn’t her first time seeing them, but she certainly thought the style suited him well. “I like them, they’re cute.” She said, which caused him to shift and rest his chin on her chest. He had a satisfied look on his face, one only a victor would wear.

“Knew you did. Mom thought they made me look weird, but eh, I think I like them.”

“Good, they suit you.” She nodded in agreement. They sat in silence for a moment, watching each other with gentle eyes. Her hands scratched lightly at his scalp, managing to make his eyes shut. It would seem that the only time Miles could truly allow himself to feel vulnerable, was around her. After a few minutes of pleasant silence, Miles spoke again, his tone much more serious. “Me dejaste preocupado mami..” He muttered, his words muffled as he burried his face back into her chest. This made her heart ache, her brows knitting with concern. “Mi vida, I’m okay now. You saved me..and my friend. Thank you.” He shook his head. “Next time you run. Call me, I’ll help your little friends. For now though, you’re my main priority.” He proclaimed before sitting up from her chest and leaning up to kiss her lips. “I’m serious Y/N. You run.” He spoke against her lips.

“Okay..” She mumbled, her eyes shut and her hands resting on his jaw. Her lips grazed his, the distance growing tantalizingly close. And finally he pressed back into her, lips meshing into hers as his hands traversed her sides. “So glad you’re okay..” He said in a hushed manner as he poured his love into every movement. His kisses slowly began to lower, finding her neck, then her collar bone, and- she hissed. Wincing beneath him, her body tensed and he froze. His hard stare lingered on her, awaiting a sign to stop or continue. “Sorry, think I got a bruise or something. You can keep going Miles.” He didn’t. Not there.

His hands found her legs, now pulling her thighs apart just enough to get closer to her. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, the anticipation of what’s to happen making her giddy with excitement. “Relajate, Y/N. You’re tired and need to rest.” He said as he shifted them around, the two of them now lying on their sides wrapped in one another’s arms. This caused her to sigh, a frown on her face as she glared up at him. “Don’t look at me like that. You just went through a lot, don’t want you hurting yourself more.” He said as he tugged the blanket over their forms.

“Next time don’t start it if you’re not gonna finish it Miles.” She scoffed before scooting into his chest, his familiar scent drawing a small grin from her. “Who said I wouldn’t finish it mami? Just letting you get better first.” She could feel him smirk against her head as he rested his face against the crown of it. His words were enough to silence her, along with the sudden depletion of adrenaline. The two snuggled together, the soft blankets paired with the warmth of one another was enough to make them dreary. “Fine..Goodnight, love you Miles.”

“Te amo ma.”

Taglist? - @willowcxmilee @rinouko @chims-kookies @bbybubbles @supremeshrimpy2 @marice23top @korizzybee @otaku-degenarate @movie-enthusiast22 @corpsebridenightamare @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @marsbars09 @dystop4in14nd @ethanlandrysgf69 @mmxinne @brxght-world @rinisfruity14 @repostingmyfavs @sammarvel123 @idkwhatimdoingherehonestlyy @frissy @d4ridi0rsworld @julie03 @sakura-onesan @oh-kurva (Yall I’m never making a taglist again 🙁 props to y’all who do bc this is too much work.)

[violestars]

𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙄 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙞𝙢

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: Sunday x male reader

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: childhood friends to best friends to nothing au, where rejecting your confession is worth more than the pain of infecting your perfect image with his sinful existence.

𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: not proof read, !!only male readers!!

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: yandere-ish?,maybe ooc, mention of religion, implied homophobia, angst no comfort, just depressing.

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨: part 1, part 2

Your childhood friend is a rather confusing fellow, to the point where one would think his significant other, if he ever has one, is the type to do riddles for fun. You also love riddles but moreover, you love him. Can anyone blame you? You were consumed by these feelings in your undeveloped mind. Seven was the age you fell for Sunday, for the charming boy that is your childhood friend. Maybe it was just some puppy love between two foolish kids but no one can explain the bubbling excitement in your stomach whenever a barely visible pout was drawn on his face, whenever he uses sugar coated words to kindly ask others to leave you two alone or how his clinginess to you was shown so slyly. You were an equal to Sunday and it has left a sweet taste on your tongue till this day.

As you grow older, your mind started to question this fondness for him. You were taught love doesn't need any explanation but you aren't dumb, there are always reasons behind everything. Even the unknown comfort, warmness one could find in another is also a reason. You knew that because you have experienced it with Sunday but that wasn't your concern, for now at least. Deep down you knew this love for the other male wasn't merely a mystery, your relationship did not belong in those cheap romcoms you two would binge on a sunday night. Was it more evident on the day you went crying to him about your religious mother? Was it because of the warm hands that traced your cheeks, causing you to lean into such softness as he teased you with a coo? How you wished he could repeat his supposedly sin against his perfectionist family's belief was the attraction to the same gender, how the boyish smirk once he admitted how good rebellion feels.

School isn't your strongest suit and you beat yourself up for that, it also didn't help knowing your insecurity enabled the hatred from others. From family to friends, even strangers, their greatest gift to you was just pitiful stares. Sunday was different though, the soft smile that never fails to comfort you, the warm embrace of the only friend you can lean on, he was truly a breath of fresh air throughout suffocating days of school. The only subject you were good at is literature but the skills you've gained failed to form a clear answer to why your best friend has never doubted you. Asking him yourself only made the progress more complicated for both your mind and heart, as he flicked your head and told you about how much he worried more about your efforts than some silly printed texts.

“Your mind is built from poetry, not numbers, my little train-wreck.” You remembered his soothing voice right beside your ear, ignoring his ways with words and how it shaded your tear-stained canvas a light red, you let out a weak chuckle to lighten the mood.

“And yours is built of riddles. I'm not stable enough to solve one right now, Sun.” Your lighthearted response only brought him to laughter, a smile now placed onto your face as you silently hoped he would drop whatever sentimental words he just thought of since it was already as awkward as it could be. Who in their right mind would ask their best friend to climb through the bedroom window just because regrets were hitting too hard at 3 am? The guy has a controlling family for god's sake.

“You let people treat you so poorly just because of a subject, or it is everything about you throws them off. Why, though? You might think you're weird but I feel like you're just performing. A spectacular show that doesn't meet its audience, so desperately wants to be heard.”

As you thought you couldn’t drown yourself in thoughts of him further, this only deepened it. How you wondered if he actually has a third eye, silently guilding your thoughts to their respective docks. In your mind, he is the epitome of elegance, sometimes you wonder if the word is made specifically for him. Sunday is just perfect, while in one way he was expected to be due to being the adopted son of such a high status family, you felt like he doesn't even have to try. He handled stressful situations with ease, he joked it's you who taught him so with your antics. You two are the polar opposite, yet it felt like two puzzle pieces finding each other, different notes that falls in tune. You wondered how he tolerated everything throughout the years, not that you were complaining, it was just your anxiety often questions the authenticity of this friendship but as his hand cradled your face, the usual smile reserved for only you entered the view, you knew the dreams about him were real because Sunday adores you.

Unfortunately, your dreams crashed. You mentally cursed him for ruining everything, but it was not his fault he couldn't reciprocate those feelings, it was not his fault he is destined for greatness and you are the loser that existed. You knew you were being petty but it hurt how everything turned out to be a cacophony in disguise, how you two favored the full moon that night like the way you favored each other. Well, the way you favored him. Sunday wouldn't know all these shameful thoughts, you only nodded at his kind refusal with choked breaths after all. His frown only deepened once he noticed how tears sharp as the finest blade threatened to fall from your eyes and slice through his heart, but he didn't say anything. It hurts that your feelings were treated like a slipped word, a dumb accident, by both you and mostly him.

He knew you're worried, he was trained to be attentive to every change to his surroundings yet here he was, hands in a tight grip like how his thoughts were tied together in a messy knot. Sunday has been avoiding you, not right after the night of your confession though, he wasn't that cruel but he was evil enough to do it after reassuring you, hoping you would not throw away such unshakable friendship. Reason was, Sunday didn't know why he couldn't accept your love, he should have trust in every card he played, that was what they taught him.

It just tasted bitter. He isn't a saint, he hoped you also knew that, his mouth is filled with lies and his existence needs to be soaked in soap. In other words, Sunday is a freak of nature. Him and his sister were adopted to a rich family after the passing of their parents. Sadly enough, he still felt like nobody's son, his every step reminds him of walking on fragile ice under the threatening gaze of his so-called guardians but he still walks anyways. His sister, Robin, has her own dreams to fulfill and no one will dared to rewritte her role into another plaything for the Gods. That's why Sunday will carry all the burdens, the responsibility that will never be put onto Robin's freely spread wings and he works hard to keep it that way.

Sunday lived in this facade that is made of others' desires, he was a trapped bird that pretends to be an eagle, he felt like the strongest piece but never the mastermind. Unlike him, his darling was the salvation humanity carved for all their miserable life, you were the living proof that the lord heard his songs. You slowly metamorphosed into his only God though, Sunday believed his schemes were always concealed because he worshiped you. Sunday believed you didn't exist because he was only worthy of your afterimage. You were and are his 'father', his entire universe. He shamefully found himself praying to your name against the family's knowledge, images of your beauty embroidered in his mind rather than any flight of fancy.

But how Sunday loathed himself, how pitiful is he if everyone were starting to lead their own life yet he was still following a script, how unfortunate is he if the boy of his dreams felt like the vast sky from his cage. Why does one feel deep disgust within but still mindlessly follows the same path? He wanted to fly upward, to feel your touch but the sky is unreachable and so is you. Sunday knows his love for you like the back of his hand, it's more than the platonic feeling towards his sister and the ambition towards a perfect future, it's the only thing the family didn't plant into his mind at such a young age. His love for you felt like the only thing he could freely express.

You knew he wished to live in a dreamscape, where he would generate happiness for the unfortunates but you don't know this dreamland of his sprouted from the purest of love for you. Those troublesome worries won't reach you there, he swore upon his life that he would shield you away from this brutal world in your new home. You only laughed at his silly delusion though, you never wanted to live in a lie and he knew that clearly. Sunday envied that part of you, he detested how strong you are despite all attempts to drag you down but maybe that's what confirmed his feelings towards you.

You were able to confuse Sunday in the best way possible. You could sob about how ugly you are, complain about your failure of a life and hatred for reality but in the end, you didn't mean it. You wanted to live for the imperfect tomorrow, you wanted to erode a stone that is your destiny with him, with Sunday. Yes, that's what you are. So imperfectly beautiful as he's perfectly fake. That's why he would push you away, as unreasonable as his actions were, he will not taint your future and dirty your determination, this kaleidoscoping pain shall never reach your ears. Sunday doesn't want anyone to find out you're his weakness, he doesn't want to acknowledge you're the sweet reality to his pained dream. He was happily in your shadow even if he could catch a glimpse of your performance.

Sunday loves you so he will let you go.

© art by @/Ceoretkr on twt

[winterrrnight]

also maybe bsf!Rafe dealing with a drunken reader that keeps saying sweet nothings in his ear (but truly truly heartfelt) and Rafe has no clue how to take those things while he keeps taking care of reader (and making sure nothing happens to them)

did I go absolutely feral when I read this? yes. this is probably the most one of the girls rafe and reader coded idea I have ever read and I want to worship the ground you walk on for sending me this 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ I love love u🦉nonnie <3

you render bsf!rafe absolutely speechless with your affectionate drunken words… <3 listen to fantasy by kali uchis & don toliver for this one <3 cw: slightly suggestive content (no actual smut!), mentions of alcohol and weed consumption, minimal usage of nicknames like babydoll <3 for: @ilyrafe who’s probably one of the most talented writers i’ve had the honor of getting to talk to :’) you’re the absolute sweetest gabi, i adore you so much 💟

part of this little universe <3

the purple strobe lights flash all over the dancing bodies at the party, highlighting the subtle skin on skin touches, the intertwined hands, the sweat dripping down the slope of the necks, and the smoke leaving the weed joints.

you and rafe would more or less usually get wound up in the dancing too, having the lights flash across you two in the otherwise dark party manor, your bodies pressed up, his arms always tight around you to keep you as close as he can.

but right now, instead of getting to dance, rafe is standing next to your sitting figure on one of the bar stools, your body leaning against his and his arm tightening protectively around you.

“c’mon rafe let’s go dance please!” you slurred, looking up at rafe with pleading eyes. he lets out a sigh of exasperation and tightens his grip around your shoulders, shaking his head.

“no, I told you, you’re way too drunk,” he grumbles. “you can’t even stand straight. you’d be trippin’ over an’ shit all the time on the floor, so no,”

you pout at his words, reaching out for the glass kept on the counter behind you but rafe pulls onto your arm with his free hand, tugging it away from the glass.

“I told you, no more drinks f’you,” he sighs. “c’mon babydoll, adjust with me here,”

he lets go of your hand and tugs you closer to him from his arm around your shoulders, and you snuggle up against his side. you look up at him, his eyes scanning around the crowds, his weed joint hanging limply between his two fingers.

you bury your face in his side, taking in a deep breath and letting his scent cloud your senses. “you smell very good…” you murmur, letting your glazed eyes flutter against his tshirt. “something new you’re trying?” you ask quietly, your arm coming up to wrap around his torso, your fingers fiddling mindlessly with the hem of his tshirt.

“it’s the same one as always,” he mutters, his gaze never stopping scanning around the crowds. his eyes have already zeroed on people who he noticed eyeing you in a way he wasn’t particularly fond of, and mentally preparing himself to not let them even in a two mile radius around you both.

“you sure? smells different…” you mutter, taking another deep breath. “well, whatever it is, you smell really good…” your words spill from your lips, the different sounds running into one another to sound slightly incoherent to rafe, yet he understands you perfectly well.

“and this shirt…” you mumble, your fingertips starting to sneak under the hem of his tshirt, tracing gently over the skin of the side of his torso, the sudden movement causing rafe to take a sharp breath, “you look very good in it… suits you… brings out your eyes…” your fingers start to trace small shapeless patterns on his skin, your eyes trailing over his arms in the half sleeved tshirt, “and… and your arms too… look good…”

rafe can feel his heart starting to thump louder in his chest from your words and the way your fingertips glide over his skin, but his eyes keep on examining the crowd, something he has done uncountable times already, but he isn’t so sure what his next move should be when your words is causing his breath to hitch in his throat. he moves his hand to take a hit of his joint, letting the joint stay in between his lips, his hand coming back down to his side.

your fingers come out from under his shirt and find his hand on his side, softly trailing over his fingers and forearm, tracing the visible veins gently.

“you always take such good care of me…” you murmur quietly, “always makin’ sure i’m okay…”

your fingers trail over the sensitive underside of his forearm, and you can feel goosebumps rising on his skin in the wake of your touch.

to give himself a grip rafe tightens his arm even more around your shoulders, his fingers starting to dig into your skin through the fabric of your clothes. he feels your fingers descend back down to his hand, starting to interlace with his which he doesn’t complain about at all, easily letting your fingers slip into his.

you give his hand a faint tug, which finally causes him to look down at you. you give it another tug, this one a little firmer than the first one. rafe moves in front of you, your back pressing against the bar counter as you look up at him.

you pull on his intertwined hand, bringing it closer to your mouth before you start to gently press kisses over the back of his hand, the kisses just slightly sloppy from your drunken and hazy mind.

“you’re so perfect… so caring, so loving…” your mumbled words spill out against his skin, “and just so so handsome...”

rafe has to hold back the sound wanting to escape past his lips, his teeth almost biting down on the joint in his mouth. he can’t help but look at you with your mouth running over the back of his hand and his wrist, pressing a kiss to whatever patch of skin you can succumb to, his mind starting to go into an overdrive.

you’re going to be the death of him.

[aliwritex]

Can I request protective Oscar which leads to her thinking he’s super hot like that and then that leads to smut please?

here it is, sorry for the wait babes F1masterlist

it was the little things

the way he never let you walk on the outside of the side walk

the way he would rest his hands on the curve of your back, right above your ass, anytime you were in a room full of people or a crowd you had to walk through

But that night specially it was all too hot. Lando had convinced your boyfriend to go clubbing with him after their podium. In reality all he wanted to do was go back to his hotel and maybe have the laziest, most intimate love making session with you. But you encouraged him to go out, it was his first podium in formula one and you felt full with pride, he had to celebrate it the right way.

So after the race you went back to the hotel and got ready to go out. Oscar looked unbelievably hot, it was the most boring outfit you could think of, for sure, but your boyfriend pulled it off perfectly. The black tshirt so tight on his arm, same with his jeans, they weren’t even supposed to be skinny but his thighs had gotten thicker and looked like they were about to burst out of those pants. The watch around his wrist, the chain you had gifted him at the beginning of the season adorning his neck and his cologne, god, that fucking cologne was intoxicating.

He was thrown on the bed, open like a starfish as he waited for you to get ready. You came out of the bathroom with a more casual than not outfit. Black mini skirt, white top and black boots, the star of the show being a vintage Mclaren jacket that Oscar would probably have to hold all night.

“Ready?” you asked as he sat up on the edge of the bed, groaning. “Come on, baby, it’s your first f1 podium, you can’t just stay in and do nothing.” you explained, combing your nails through his hair, trying to get it to sit right.

“I wasn’t gonna do nothing, i was gonna do you” he hugged your waist, cheek pressed to your stomach.

“You can do me every day, but tonight i already promised Lando we would be there.” your boyfriend dropped his head in defeat, knowing damn well that the next morning his teammate won’t even know if he was there or not.

None of you were very fond of clubbing, not really knowing what to do. You danced for a bit as oscar talked to his coworkers that were there. The way you swayed your hips pulling different pairs of eyes to watch you. It was Lando that noticed and told him that you were causing a scene. He called you over with a motion of his finger, you obeyed blindly, walking over to him.

“Everything alright, baby?” you asked as he hugged you tightly to his side, the hand that held your jacket moving to discreetly cover some of your ass.

“Yep, perfect” he nodded, taking a sip of his beer before starting to talk to his teammate again. you couldn’t help but stare every time he took the glass bottle to his lips, the way they puckered up against the brim and how his arm flexed when he lifted it. “Want some?” he asked when he realized you were staring.

You nodded, holding your hand out for the bottle but it never met you, instead he took it straight to your lips tipping it so the liquid met your tongue. You drank it till he pulled away, trying not to make a mess but some of it dribbled down your chin anyway. He looked down at you swiping his thumb on the spilt alcohol and kissing you. He was putting on a show for everyone to see. Lando downed the drink the had in his hands with a chuckle before excusing himself to get another one. The second his colleague walked behind you he stretched his arm out, pulling him by the arm.

“Don’t you look, either” he threw his hands up in irony and Oscar started basically burning up, his hand lowering so the jacket would cover more of your legs.

“Don’t be mean” you told him as you threw your arms over his shoulder, his rested on your hips, hands holding your jacket and his beer, too busy to roam around your ass.

“I’m not. It’s just that, everyone was staring. I swear i saw a pit guy look you up and down, he must know who you are, right?”

“Oscar, even though this is extremely amusing and hot, you have to let it go, it’s alright.”

“Hot?” he teased

“Well, yeah, being all manly and jealous and possessive. It’s kinda hot.” you explained before starting to kiss on his neck, each mole of his receiving a peck. “Can we go back to the hotel?”

“Yes, please. Just gotta say bye, c’mon” he pulled you through the small crowd till you met Lando and some other coworkers of his. You two said your goodbyes and walked out of the place, waiting for his car. You got in so quickly after he opened the door for you, waiting impatiently to get back to your room.

His hand was on your thigh the entire ride, getting higher and higher, your skirt doing very little to stop it. You couldn’t take your eyes off his hand gripping tight on the steering wheel. His jaw was clenched making it look sharper. The anticipation was killing you but luckily you were finally in front of the hotel. Oscar rushed out of the car to open the door for you and get you out of the car and into the lobby. Because of the late hour the elevator got to you quickly and you stumbled in, his hand on the small of your back, keeping you close.

As soon as the elevator doors closed you pulled him in by the colar of his shirt your arms wrapped around his neck, hands hanging loosely behind him as he kissed you deeply, his tongue slipping into your mouth. He was fighting the urge to not grind his hips against you just yet but it was hard when you started kissing down his neck and running your nails on his scalp.

“Oscar” you called “Oscar, we’re here” you pushed him off of you, taking him by the hand and walking to your room. You reached into his back pocket to grab the keycard and open the door, immediately kicking it shut and making him sit on the couch.

You got on your knees immediately, taking off your shirt and unbuttoning his jeans. You could see his outline in them as he lifted his hips to help you. Your lips connected to his thigh, kissing all the way up to the wet patch on his underwear, his dick growing even harder inside it.

“Don’t fucking tease, get to it” he rushed you, hand running through your hair.

Your fingers made their way to his waistband, pulling it under his dick. You watched as it basically bounced against his stomach before kissing the tip. As you looked up you saw that he was getting impatient so you spit down on the head, watching it drip down the side of his length before spreading it around him with your palm. He was watching you, following your moves closely, anticipating but the moment you took his tip into your mouth he threw his head back, closing his eyes tightly.

Oscar’s hand gripped tighter, the other one collecting the rest of your hair, pulling it into a ponytail. As he recovered himself from the first contact with your mouth he lifted his head up, admiring the way your mouth stretched around him.

“Fuck my mouth, baby, please” you asked with him in your hand, leaving your mouth open for him.

He fixed the hand on your head and pushed you down slightly on his dick till your nose gif the hairs on his groin. His hand held you there for a while before pulling off completely. You were already a mess, lips red and plump covered in saliva, small strands of your hair stuck to your face and you had been sitting on your ankles, grinding against them to get the slightest feeling of relief.

Oscar kicked your knees apart, placing his leg between them, he immediately pressed it up onto you. You let out a groan but it was cut short by the way your boyfriend shoved your mouth down on his cock.

“Fuck, baby, so perfect, your mouth is. Always feels so good” he praised as he aggressively pulled your head up and down his dick.

His thrusts had gotten more aggressive making you gag around him but you were so satisfied. After the little show he putt on earlier all you wanted was to be manhandled and it was exactly what he was giving you. You had started bouncing in his foot shamelessly and he was loving the view, your tits bouncing slightly and tears now falling from the corner of your eyes.

“‘M close, love, gonna cum in your mouth, yeah?”

He pulled you away, making you keep only his tip in your mouth, you sucked the hardest, tongue sliding against his slit repeatedly till he spilt in your mouth. Oscar groaned, throwing his head back as you sucked every last bit of cum out of him before it was all too much and he pulled you off him.

“That’s a way to celebrate a podium” you said before dropping your head to his thigh, completely used up.

[mochinomnoms]

OH MY GOD JAMIL WAS AN OPTION??? sorry I'm obsessed with him... snake man..... did you have any thoughts on what ptm would have been like with him...

Referring to this post

I considered Jamil for a bit cause he fit the basic plot that I wanted, but I fucking hate that bitch so—

I'm kidding, he's not my most favorite character but my "hatred" is more of a joke than anything, but since he isn't an appealing character to me I didn't feel like writing such a big fic for him when there were others I liked much more.

Similar to Vil, I think I would've written an enemies to lovers story, specifically focused on the reader never really getting over what Jamil did to them in Book 4 and him sensing that. I think for Jamil, despite knowing exactly how much you dislike him, can't help but slowly fall for you. You're...an idiot, there's no other way to put it, but he's surprisingly fond of you still, so perhaps he's also an idiot.

You're not dumb in the way he's grown to see Kalim, but you share a similar naïveté that is more endearing when it comes to you. You don't take the bullshit from others and are blunt regardless of your peers' social status. Blame it on you not being born in his world, but he wishes he could be so blunt, so open, so free like you.

It's in the way you smile at someone as intimating as Malleus, the way you speak bluntly at someone like Vil, the way you bring Kalim down to reality with your brashness. Leona even remarks at how you try to roughhouse with him, badly mind you as you'd get bruised from the play fighting.

There's just something that makes him jealous with how you treat these royals and socialites like they're just some person you know. At first, he thought he was jealous of how no one retaliated against you. Kalim wasn't surprising, but the others? They found it amusing, charming even, and were happy to let you be for the most part.

Jamil is jealous that you can be carefree with others, something that would have dreadful consequences on him and his family if he were to do the same. But the longer he watches you, and the more you soften up to him as the months pass by, the more he realizes that he's jealous of them. He's always been envious of people like Kalim, though he hates to admit it, but this is a different kind of envy.

He's not that stupid though, Jamil knows he's jealous because he wants to see you act like that with him. He wants that smile you give Malleus on him. He wants that blunt way you speak to Vil to instead fill his own ears. He wants the brashness you give Kalim to be his instead. He wants you to roughhouse with him instead of Leona, to give you those bruises instead.

Bruises that he can kiss, that he can soothe, that he can ghost his thumb over as he imagines the way you look up at him with soft reverence in your eyes. He imagines you on your knees, he imagines you underneath him, he imagines your skin meeting his lips, he imagines you uttering those three words to him, and him only—

Oh. Oh.

Jamil has an entire summer to deal with his feelings, to figure out just how he wants to go about this. When he comes back, after you've developed your telepathy, he's confused as to why you are suddenly so...shy around him. You, who used to be a bit catty, a tease, things he liked about you. Now? You can't even look him in the eye, like you know something. Your eyes darting everywhere but his face, always putting space between you two, even going so far as to ensure that you two are never alone.

What happened to his Prefect? The one who would bicker with him, the one who would stick their tongue out at him when he pasted by, the one who'd call out his sly words and joke that he really was like his namesake—a snake.

He's wanted very few things in life that he could actually have, and he wants you. So sue him if he decides to make it his mission to bring you back to how you were so that he could have the challenge of winning your heart. It won't be satisfactory otherwise, it's too bad he's unaware that even thought he has passes through your mind, making his goal much, much more difficult.

[edenianprincess]

INTRO !!      ❤︎ ׄ                                               Different ways to say I love you .ᐟ

Sweet gestures that demonstrate their love to a gender neutral!reader. Characters chosen are Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, Tomas. Content warning: none, just fluff. Please, respond to the poll at the end!

Bi-Han !

He lets you call him by stupid nicknames, he acts annoyed when you're using them, but he won't admit to anyone or even to himself that he is fond of them. Everything you make him feel is so unusual for Bi-Han, he doesn't know why he seeks for this warm fuzzy sensation every time he has your attention and affection, when his body as well as his soul are made of ice, but he does, and your foolish nicknames provide them. So, if someone else uses them, he would not only see it as an attack on his honor, not hesitating to put them back in their place, reminding them of whom they're talking to, but also, who do they think they are to call him like that when they’re not you. He prefers if you only use them in private, for plenty of reasons which include that he thinks your love life should be kept private, it isn't a subject of chatter for everyone to be entertained with, but also a matter of respecting his clan's honor as he is its head. He'll be grumpy if you do, but let’s be real, when is he not.

"How many times do I have to apologise for you to move on, snowhan?" Your voice whispers in his ear as your body is glued to his back, an arm hugging his neck while your fingers are twirling a loose strand of his hair that escaped from his bun. The man in your arms lets out a grunt. "Those champions lack senses for making fun of me, Liu Kang wouldn’t have stop me I would have knock them some of it in their head. And you.. my own partner disrespecting me in front of them." Despite his back facing you, you can feel his glare that is meant for you when he spits those words. But, even with the anger within him, he doesn’t move on from where he is, not even moving an inch when you take his clenching fist and start doing circles on them. "I thought I made it clear but apparently it wasn’t enough for you to get it. How can we bring glory to the Lin Kuei, when my companion lacks perspicacity and respect for their husband, out of all people you should know better than putting on a foolish act… " His voice fades away, it seems like he was going to continue his rambling but loses himself instead in your fingers gently brushing his silky hair, his bun long gone since, causing his grunts to become quiet moans. "I'm sorry, I won't do it again." You suddenly remove yourself from him. When he feels your fingers being taken away from his hair, it catchs him off guard as he turns around to see you smiling innocently but also playfully, which he returns with a dirty look that questions as to why did you stopped. You tell him that you’re just respecting his space like a good spouse should. "Nonsense, there's nothing preventing us here. Continue what you were doing. Now.” He pulls you back with ease in his embrace going back to the soft moment where for once he let his guard down, and that’s a sight no else should be able to see.

Making sure you sleep well. Rest is important, he doesn't want to have a weak lover by his side, you must keep your energy in check and if you don't do it, he will. When he goes to bed at the same time as you, he'll wait for you to sleep first before he does, making sure you don't go on a sleepless night, and it gives him a moment alone to appreciate your features. If you can't sleep, he'll help by brewing warm tea or if necessary, draw a bath, anything that will help he’ll do, it’s one of his rare soft moments where he lets the cold facade fall for once, it’s in the night where it feels like you and him without the world or the worries. When he is occupied during the night because of his role as Grandmaster, he'll go check up on you, always, to see if you're sleeping safe and well. 

He opens the door slowly of your shared bedroom and walks at quiet steps to your sleeping figure, when he is next to the bed he let the blanket he searched for fall on your body and make sure to cover the exposed areas. The night is colder than usual and you aren’t used to the cold like he is, he doesn’t want you to end up ill and weak.  After he finishes tucking you in, he takes a moment to trace the features of your face delicately, his finger travelling from the lips he enjoys kissing to the cheek he loves holding, but it doesn’t last long as he has to go, with one last stroke he moves away to the door that he closes after looking at you again. Each times, seeing the moonlight illuminating your soft features in the dark night reminds him that seeing you being so peaceful is one of the reason he wants to strengthen the clan even more, the universe is full of threats from every realms and now even from every timelines, it gives him unspeakable worries if one of those threats reaches you, it’s too late to go back when the Lin Kuei was being held back and weak, time is changing and he needs to go forward with it. 

Kuai Liang !

Using his powers to make you feel better.  Whenever he sees you shivering cold, he'll automatically wrap his hand around your waist, offering to share his body heat. But, if that's not enough he'll slightly heat himself up, making sure to not burn you but still bring enough warmth. You're free to lean on or snuggle to him whenever you want to, he isn't one to reject his lover when they are in need, and it would be a lie to say he doesn't find it adorable when you seek for him to warm yourself up, sometimes you’re throwing yourself on him so he has no choice but to hug you back, not that he complains, his arms are always open and keep their high temperature for you. He is also your personal heating pad for stomachache, it saddens him to see his loved ones in pain, so he's happy when he's able to help ease it even for a little, by rubbing where the pain is.

It is a particularly cold day and nothing that you found could bring you enough heat. You know it is the day for Kuai Liang to train the recruits so you go to the training place and seek for him. When you find him, you lightly tap on his shoulder without saying a word, and just by the look in your eyes Kuai Liang knows you need something, so he follows you into a secret hiding from the rest of the clan where you can talk. “What is it, my lo-” He is about to ask, but you interrupt him by throwing your arms above his waist and push your face into his toned chest that you can feel through the fabric. It takes him by surprise but he quickly laughs and returns the hug, you feel his hot touch on your trembling body, causing to send shivers of excitement down your spine. A sudden wave of comfort and heat rushes through your skin as he uses his power. You don’t want to hog him just for yourself but it feels so good and you don’t want to leave him for the moment either, his strong but gentle hands slowly start doing small caresses on your back as if you were the softest and most precious thing he ever held in his hands. “Does it feel better, love?” His lips whisper close to your face, so close you can feel his breath warming up your cheeks. You can think he is using his power in his smooth voice to make your heart melt like that. “Yes.. yes, it does.” Your voice drifts away as you let Kuai Liang’s warmth embracing you fully, enjoying it as long as it last.

Letting you do his hair. Every morning, you have the habit of brushing his hair until every knot is untangled, then putting them in a high and tight bun so he won’t be bothered when he goes to work. He can do his hair alone, but he trusts you with it, besides from his parents when he was a boy, nobody has ever touched his hair. It feels intimate and relaxing whenever your fingers pass through his hair which feel like silk, for once it’s like he puts a pause on everything and lets you manage the moment, with nothing being able to interrupt it. It’s impressive, even for him on how can you put the pyromancer in a vulnerable state just by your touch, while his enemies had train all their life to get even an once of his vulnerability, it’s like any fire within him extinguish with your presence. He really wishes to pay you back in some way, if you have long hair he’ll do them if you let him, styling you in hairstyles that he thinks embellish your natural beauty. And of course, his hair ties and pins become yours and vice versa.

“And, here you go.” You say as you rearrange the bun making sure no hair escaped. When you are finished, Kuai Liang turns around to face you, you feel the rough skin of his hand passing over your hand and gently take it to pull it lightly to bring you closer to him. “Thank you, beloved. I can't think of anyone better.” His gaze who holds sincerity it doesn't leave your eyes, still holding your hand he intertwines your fingers in an unbreakable link between his. “It's a simple gesture, however I'm happy to be the one to do it.” You smile at him, you really feel lucky to be the only one who can share this moment with him even for how simple it is, passing your fingers through is hair is almost like a small addiction, his smooth hair framing perfectly his handsome face is a sight you can't get tired of. “It may not be much but it means a lot to me.” His hand strokes your chin before pulling it and his lips capture yours in a kiss. It feels sweet and soft but you can feel the deep emotions he is putting in it, he is not letting your face go from his hand until his lips leave yours and smile tenderly at you.

Tomas !

Being your number 1 fan. This man is quite easy to amaze, but nothing amazes him more than his sweet partner that is you. Everything that you try receives a compliment from Tomas, some may say he is a fool in love, while he’ll say that he is simply proud of you. His significant other kicking ass? That’s my bae for you! Showing off a new trick you just learned? It’s impressive, could you teach him how to do that? (Definitely not an excuse to spend some time with you) While the praises are genuine, they’re also here to make sure you don’t fall into the rabbit hole of insecurities, which unfortunately he has sunk in too many times. He would hate for you to feel bad about yourself, it means for him that he failed as a boyfriend and by extents, he failed you, that’s why he needs to cheer you up and show how much you’re incredible in his eyes.

It is one of those days again, where a gloomy feeling overcomes your mind and manifests itself when you're looking at yourself in the mirror almost defeated by its reflection, the more you look in the mirror the more you are able to see each imperfection and you suddenly start to feel like a mess. Tomas who has just arrived to check on you, notices your weird behavior, how you twirl your clothes, and look at yourself in every angle with a frown on the mirror that you have been looking at for a long time now, he knows what this means and he knows he needs to put a stop to it. Your investigation is suddenly brought to an end when you feel a pair of strong arms around your waist. “Hey, you look particularly beautiful today, have you done something new?” Tomas asks with curiosity and a small smirk, he is looking at you in the mirror and you notice his eyes are filled with fondness which makes you smile in returns. “I just woke up, Tomas. I didn't even brush my hair yet.” “Oh, I suppose it's your natural charm that makes you beautiful then.” When he says that you can't help but kiss him on the cheek, no matter how many times these bad feelings come back they could never surpass the feelings that your boyfriend is making you feel.

Making you surprises. Tomas is always trying to show that he cares for his partner, he fears that he may not show it enough so he tries through little pleasant surprises that he knows you will like. For example, bringing breakfast in bed, it’s convenient that most of the time he wakes up before you, as the way of teaching from the clan does not allow to sleep in and wake up after the enemy does. He’ll cook your favorite food of course, and somehow the fact that it is made by him makes it even more appetizing but also he learned from the best cook that he knows who is Madam Bo, honestly you don’t know who is sweeter between the breakfast or your boyfriend. He also likes to leave love notes when he is on duty in places he knows that you go and sometimes those notes are attached to cute gifts like plushies, chocolate or flowers.

Good morning, Love! I hope you slept well and did beautiful dreams (hopefully about me). I regret not being with you here but we had to leave early this morning and I didn’t want to wake you up so early. I made you a quick breakfast before leaving and this time it didn’t burn! I promise I’ll make up for my absence but for the time I wish you a nice day and can’t wait to hear about what you did tonight. With love, Tomas :) Your smile grows when you re-read the notes that Tomas left, you kept a small pile of them in the drawer and like to go through again when you’re in an emotional mood. Some of them are small, others are longer, they can be funny or romantic with a deep otherwise cheesy love quote, either written by Tomas or this ‘anonymous’ person who signs as ‘The King Of Smoke’ and hopes to not be caught by your boyfriend so he can keep sending you gifts that represents his love. Whatever those letters are, they always contain his sweet nature in them and never fail to touch you.

‘𝓣𝐇𝐄 𝓔𝐍𝐃  Please don’t copy/translate and don’t reblog if you’re a yand3r3 blog/reblog account, or you’ll be blocked. Besides that, likes/reblogs/comments are appreciated.  Imagine Tomas leaving a love note and Bi-Han finds it accidentally, you can’t even imagine the disgust that he has on his face, he is even more displeased with Tomas than he already is, why can’t he keep his personal stuff private and not expose it to all the clan.

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

I'm not sure if you're still accepting requests so if you aren't, you can ignore this one!

Hiccup x reader where they've been arranged since they were teens and they try to navigate through their arrangement

Counting Coins

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Reader

Words: 28,025

On one cold morning, a small Chief’s son and merchant child are arranged to be wed. Now, Hiccup Haddock is your fiance and you his. Despite your different walks of life, you find you come together quite nicely.

Tags: Gender Neutral/Intended Female, reunions, arranged marriage, half-fill, fluff, MATURE CONTENT, unedited

You furrowed your brows, curling your hands around the cloak of the master of this dock, his large form towering over your small one, thicker than you’d ever seen before and well muscled, though most muscles were hidden under his clothing, clean and darned for the occasion. 

His hair was dark and his helmet large, horns seeming much too wide for his helmet, a stern man with a face hard set, yet he was gentle with you, and fond, despite your only recent meeting.

He seemed incredibly imposing, though it was a small comfort to have him on your side in front of you, acting as a shield. An in-between, a presenter for you though you knew this would be your first and last meeting.

Your white child’s robes teased the soles of your boots, fine and woven in silks you’d never had the privilege of touching before, belonging to a caliber much higher than your class. You knew after this you might not ever see those clothes again, embroidered and sewn delicately in a way you wanted to keep with ferocity.

Yet they were thin, not full enough to keep the chill from rushing up your sleeves in this early, biting morning.

Your nose was certainly sharp with cold bite, and you could feel the buzz of frost on each and every one of your limbs as if you had just been woken up for early travel, when things were dark and silent and dewy with spray.

With one eye, the other buried into rough fabrics, you examined enviously the boy before you, just as small and clad in a green tunic and a vest that was clearly new, dark and fluffy and evenly brushed out.

He must have been the same age, boots much too large for his stature. He was ruffled and slightly messy in other ways. 

It looked like he wasn’t boat-steady yet, face ashy and ill.

They clearly had not come dressed to impress, donned in clothes that must have been casual, but they were fine all the same, sewn with a level of care and at quality that you’d grab for if left unattended, perhaps, on someone’s rickety ship table for feeling and keeping.

You had been told and taught carefully that the way people presented themselves communicated their intentions and the amount of respect one had for the other, especially in meetings for barter. You were not very good at telling yet what meant what, though you knew they must not like you very much at all.

Still, they didn’t want this boy. Who was he, to be brushed off onto the merchant class?

A large hand, made for crushings and trader-repelling, encouraged him forward, causing him to stumble before he came to a hard stop in front of you, twisting his hands together and looking at you with no small amount of fear and apprehension.

“Go on, Hiccup,” The king suggested, speaking in tones you were sure made the world rumble.

The man -the Chief, the king, the lord, the leader- of their community was large. Larger than the dock master, larger than anything you’d ever seen. His head would bump into the roof of your vessel, which seemed already so large to you. 

He looked around with eyes that weren’t completely closed, brows not fully furrowed, still open to a degree that spoke of a lenient mind, yet his stance was critical and you knew he looked upon the others with no kind eye. 

He scared you.

Behind them, their boat, a sturdy, well taken-care-of thing, sort of small yet painted in tasteful, neutral tones, bobbed and floated all the way at the end of the dock, a small bridge thrown down so that they could make a safe entrance onto this neutral moor from their vessel. 

You didn’t even know his name.

All his father wanted was a safe future for him, at least, as he had said.

He had, apparently, a few very useful blacksmithing skills, or at least that was the plan, to teach him some useful trade, so as to ship him off overseas to another island or on to your boat where he wouldn’t be as much of a burden.

So his father bartered for your hand. 

You sniffed, bridging up a clumsy hand, fingers grasping at your sleeve, to rub at your nose with worry and apprehension.

You were a no-good kid -in his eyes, you must have been- from the merchant class, though you’d been told you were well. He couldn’t even get someone from a place with a chiefdom.

You were sure his father was sorely disappointed. You were a migratory sort, after all. Your lot was a backstabbing kind.

You were under no delusions of grandeur and fine materials and princess-hood, you’d been told very clearly what was about to happen. The Hooligans were a rough bunch. They weren't keen on outsiders, and it had already been made clear that the point of the barter was to get something away rather than to bring someone in.

You didn’t know of any deeper meanings behind things like marriage, but you recognized a barter when you saw one; the exchange of meat for coin, bear fur for deer pelt, skull for tendon and scale and a few things extra, come up with in the time it took to get from place to place.

It was just that this time, you were the barter. No one had ever said anything, but you’d come to know it between actions and hesitant looks, apprehensive as if sharing dark secrets for a trade they weren’t certain you’d be involved, speaking of missing crew members, loot, sabotage and subterfuge, hiding things in whispers too valuable to be spared for the opposition, the way the best furs were kept in locked chest under ship floorboards, hidden from the children and yet seen by you all the same. 

The same way the nice spices were held for lords and kings and chiefs all of the same kind, barred for use from the common folk, their origin a secret only a few in your migratory hodge-podge of a group knew and guarded from each other with lies and violence and suspicious eyes, searched for on single-man boats by lantern light far away from the prying gazes of your other kinsmen.

 You were the ‘other,’ and it was that that told you that this time, you were the barter. The sacrificial lamb. You were old enough to understand that, at four winters old.

You wished you were on this dock, watching one of the others depart in a small boat instead of nearly alone in the cold and mist, something that acted as more of an obstruction than the preclude to a mystery or a passive tool, a plain cloak to drift through instead of a phenomena that acted as a cage around an arena, keeping everything else invisible to your eye except for the people in front of you.

You shivered.

The small boy stumbled forwards again, very reluctantly, leaning back as if he meant to stumble back, searching for a ways away. 

His eyes were incredibly wide, trained on you the whole time as his father turned his attention away, muttering in low, important tones with the dock master.

“Hi,” The small boy tried shily. He looked very much as if he was about to cry, which did you no favors, emotion building at the corner of your lids.

“...Hi,” You whispered back, much quieter, creeping slightly further behind the dockmaster, who didn’t spare you much but a vaguely concerned glance, large, black brows furrowing as you tried to bury yourself in front of his puffy fur cloak and behind one large, trousered leg. 

You should introduce yourself. You weren’t sure what he wanted, but you knew the still folk weren’t very fond of what you did. Would do.

“We… travel,” You mumbled clumsily, “A lot.”

The boy furrowed his brows, deterred, looking back to his father with an unsure, wobbly frown, though the large man paid him no mind. 

He looked as if he would cry even more now, especially at the idea that he might be ousted, if what he knew of the situation went that far. With petty malice, you hoped they kicked him out from his home, yet he didn’t want him to be sent away for tiny things with your strange folk, so then maybe he would not want to come with you at all.

Good.

You sniffed then, just blinking, determined, giving him a defiant look even as you scooted further behind the dock master, tiny, clenched hands shivering.

The boy was trying his darndest to hold it in, fists clenched, eyes watery.

Your own expression was wobbly, but you were determined, face tilted slightly downwards with your refusal and will to stay silent.

There wasn’t so much a negotiation as a confirmation, a presentation of goods yet deep, silent, rumbled conversation went on for what seemed like ever.

If he cried, things would certainly be over. It had to be him. You willed that he do it first.

Time felt like more time, long and drawn and moments felt like eternities, forcing you to take in each and every bit that had been long drawn out. Something in the wind must have made it so. 

You didn’t like it. Land made you unsteady, with so many things and legends and magic and still age, unflowing and stationary in all the ways your home was not. 

It was new territory in a way that made you uneasy.

Eventually, your determined attention was brought away and your hands hid back into the confines of coated fur.

You drifted.

Granules of wood, the large cracks beneath your feet, old, dark, deepish gray. The swirling, moving water under your feet, bobbing, pulling, opaque, foamed, murky. The thin brush of fur tickly at your feet, the wind smoothing by your neck. Something tantalizing, all-consuming yet somewhat faint drawing you forwards.

You closed your eyes, body traveling to follow the scent, tilting forwards. It was something sweet and smooth and altogether tempting, sort of milky and dark.

You didn’t think scents could leave trails, but this, too you, was so strong.

You opened your eyes with a flutter to find that the boy across had done something in a much similar manner. You both had sniffed the air. 

You looked at him with curious, vying eyes. It seemed as if you two had something in common after all.

You let go of the dockmaster’s cloak, sure not to let your hands shake, though you didn’t yet step free of his shadow, still close enough to feel tufts from his ensemble brush across your cheek.

You’d heard from some of the others of the dragons lurking in the mist and smog, deep in the wilds. If you followed the scent, however, you’d surely be fine. You were sure there was nothing strong enough to blow it away, not here and now when everything was quiet and still, even absent of the usual chirping of bugs and smaller such things.

You weren’t as familiar with land, most of your life spent on Boat. Though should the worst things come to worst, you’d follow the moss and whispers of fairies and any brooke you could find until you were back on your home boat, floating along the docks, tied secure and stationed by many others of your ilk. Like in the stories. Or maybe you’d follow the sound of rumbling voices, deep and sound, until you were once again above the water.

You sobbed, where you’d been thrown back, your arms stinging with raw scrapes and soreness, back stiff with the fallen feel of many rocks and a burn that spoke of peeled skin, screaming in a way that rang, gripping tightly onto fabric, though whether it was yours or his you couldn’t tell. 

His nails in your arms, punching through fabric, said many things as you gripped each other tightly, half curled in on each other, tears and snot streaming furiously down his face and yours, told of and shared through the drag of his crying voice and the thickness of his frantic panting.

Thin, many, many teeth- staring into a large maw, thick mucus spraying, face split monstrously by three jaws and a grotesque, dripping tongue, green and deep in a sparsely wooded craig area. Two more visible behind.

You choked out another wet cry as the monstrous creature screamed, it’s aggressive voice causing you to wail louder. It had lured you.

You were good as dead.

You hated chocolate.

The scene -the reason why- as you remembered it, not that you let yourself, was cold and misty and told in flashes, washed with distance and a sense of levity only the most severe memories ever received. 

A rushing fist, a quick yank, It was something you recalled mostly on cold nights under heavy blankets.  

It hadn’t been too long ago.

Your face screwed up at the open box below, it’s gifter already busy off rifling for other things.

It was your second meeting at another dock, a half-way point, not that you had a still place to have a way from. 

There was a forge here. His intent was to show off how he was faring in the forge, most likely -he said how he had something and he must show it to you in a forge. 

It was his scene now, perhaps,and he was trying to impress by telling of how he was learning. By some way the Snaptrapper attack had had a weird effect on his brain.

You turned away from the small,  open box in multiple small steps, wrapped and pulled open for you clumsily by the same boyish hands that offered them to you. Maybe you could sell it later -you couldn’t possibly give it away, not when it was something so valuable- yet you couldn’t eat it either, a precious thing you yearned to keep yet sent fear prickling down your spine.

Below you, who you looked down on from your high position on your mount was your future fiance -or current, you hadn’t yet gotten enough details to understand- who looked mini from your perch.

It was almost silly how he hung over the side of the open chest, the top half of his body hanging down into the barrel of it as he rifled around, the one thing he was looking for skidding across the bottom as he grabbed for it, scratching hand sounds muffled to your ears along with the sounds knocking against wooden walls.

You wrung your hands nervously, fingers and palms getting caught on newly cleaned sleeves, one of your older clothes pieces. 

Certainly you’d never seen that nice robe ever again. It was never meant to be kept, but you’d wanted to know what there was to do with it, now that it was ripped and mud-dirtied and mussed, if it had been made to sell in some form as it had been taken away from you.

You climbed down from the height, sitting down on the chair and stretching your legs towards the stone floor of the foreign forge with a light strained noise made in the back of your throat, hands placed carefully flat, fingers together against the wood of the chair behind you.

You reached out your booted toes, stretching your legs delicately until you felt they were stretched as far as they could go, until the drop was much less high than it was before, a distance you found to be much more manageable for you to drop down.

You patted the bottoms of your boots lightly on the floor as you settled as if to clear the dust from them, one after the other, lifting your knees up a respectable height before moving them slowly back down, though it was with not enough force to do more than make a quiet pat.

You used your hands to brush off the leg-covering length of your tunic, sort of scratchy and worn and holey by one of the sleeves, just the way you’d been taught and shown.

You looked back up carefully, brows furrowed upwards with slight worry to meet a pair of large, intent eyes, the sort you likened to a big pool of water but green and murky as your to-be husband held out a small knife by the handle with clumsy child’s hands. 

“It’s for you,” His voice wobbled as he said it, light with hope and nerves.

You stared at it for a long, long moment, unsure of what to do, hand half stretched out, hovering above it. Were you supposed to pick it up?

The blade was sort of triangle shaped, wobbly and wrenched and very, very dented along the side, flat ends of the blade offset in some places where hammer-sized circles lay flat at slightly the wrong angle like lumps on the side of the face of a young shiphand.

He had found you the biggest chest to bring it in, even if it’s contents were small. He’d said so, which was very flattering.

“It’s cool,” He insisted, voice wavering with nerves.

He thought it was cool

He looked at you intently.

He… wanted to make you happy

You supposed it was your job to make him happy too, and to make him happy, his gifts would have to make you happy. So perhaps you would. Would tell him he was doing a good job. 

But how were you supposed to receive gifts? No one had ever told you that before.

Though you’d learned much first and second hand, especially for your age on your boat, if words were also a part of trade, you’d not yet been versed. Not truly.

“Okay,” You picked it up unsurely with pinched fingers, holding it by one dented blade end, “Thank you. I like it a lot.”

You were careful to speak nice, in your bartering voice, separate from your normal seafaring drawl.

The boy seemed to preen at that, putting his hand by his chest slightly and giving you a grin so wide he had to be faking some of it. Not his enthusiasm, but in his efforts to communicate it, to make his joy seem super clear to you.

You said it to yourself in guesses in your mind, though you felt there was a certain truth to it as it was; there was a level of performance in success. 

You offered him a tiny smile back, holding the small knife close to your chest with both your hands by its equally uneven handle, blade part pointed down.

With your troope you traveled, past and through fjords with waters a beautiful, clear turquoise that seemed to speak deep into your soul, full enough to carry your boat yet shallow enough that you were sure you could stand at the bottom. Fresh enough to make you wonder what sailors needed stories of sirens for, when the water was entrancing and glittering enough to pull you in all on its own.

Mountains lined by blankets and blankets of greenery, so full and lush it’s color seemed nearly turquoise, saturated and unspotted to a fantastical degree.

You’d passed by a beach with sand the color of warm, red rust, a deep maroon you wished to scoop up and bottle and hold dear to you for the rest of your lifetime.

Yet, perhaps its ephemeral nature was what made it all the more valuable, more novel as it was passed from you to another, a fractured experience, the only whole copy laying in your memory, precious and aged as the finest of wines.

Of course you passed the small bottle, as you had to, stopped with a small cork, into the hands of another, who stood anxiously on the dock in front.

When you’d grabbed his hand earlier, he’d seemed to deflate with relief.

He loosened even more, then.

Your feet shuffled hollowly against the damp wood below. This dock might need repairing soon, decking wearing and decaying, crusted in parts with sour fish and clinging barnacles along what parts of the poles you could see through cracks.

“I’ve gotten this for you,” You said, adjusting your cloaked poncho with one hand, tattered and tasseled and wrapped around your shoulders, held together by dirty stitches. 

Beneath that you wore slightly nicer clothes, though still darned by the hardships of your travels, much lighter than you would have preferred had you been given the resources to prepare yourself for your next meeting.

“Thank you,” His voice was still light, then. It crackled with the idea that it might yet grow deeper, though you hadn’t high hopes.

The son of the Chief took the vial from your hands. Twelve winters you’d lived, and thirteen had he. You were younger than him yet much wiser.

The exchange of gifts was a common thing between the two of you, since you had been engaged all those years ago, though you’d never been away for so long, so some uncertainty was to be expected.

A whole half of a season of the two that existed in the Norse calendar.

Your to-be husband’s peoples had settled closer in location to the Gaelic and Romans than their original homeland. You were sure they’d long lost knowledge of where they’d come from, and whether there was land or life outside of the archipelago, which was just as well. 

When younger, you visited frequently, every month, every few weeks. All meetings arranged, atmosphere heady and thick with tense expectation, and yet you could tell he grew fond of you all the same. It was less often now, the meeting- but most of the knowing you shared still stayed, albeit you were much more distant now.

So, you’d met plenty, yet your tie kept you stuck closer to the archipelago.

With the synchronized movements of two teens who knew, you both grabbed hands, one more nervous than the other. 

Without speaking, you walked hand-in-hand across the docks and towards the precarious,  which lead to the cliffs cradling your to-be’s bustling wen in its embrace, imposing ramps held up by thick timbre and built outwards rather than carved in.

The docks were reasonably crowded, though the patrons there lie more in uniform than not, in a typical, respectful fashion.

You noticed the way the others of your age and not left out the two of you, you more by nature and expectation as an outsider, an individual of distrust and Hiccup as something else you weren’t privy to, perhaps in part because of your association. 

They snickered at him like the chittering of wily nymphs in wide, foggy mists; a thin boy with straw hair, long at the ends, top hidden by a shallow helmet. Another boy, thicker with large elbows and a square, slightly displaced jaw.

You had been here too often not to notice.

Your fiance- he looked at you as if you were holy, light reflecting off of his eyes, off the pupils and the neutral green iris in a way that made them look as if they glittered just as they had  before your most recent departure from the Archipelago.

He looked at you with wonder as well, which was perhaps your fault; filling his head with tales of waves larger than Berk was tall and rumbles in the sea of things that left everyone on board still, quiet and unmoving as you waited for ancient things to pass and return to slumber.

You’d spent hours explaining the difference between beautiful danger and danger-like beauty, how so many mystical things could be lost in something as uniform as the ocean. True magic existed only after long periods of wait.

“Well…”

Your fiance was proud to share his own lively exploits, a life of action and battle and escape from ferocious beasts, blood feuds and quickly made inventions. You were unfamiliar with land and he fed off that, speaking and embellishing with the hopes to tell you something that you might find impressive, hoping that might somehow reflect back on him. 

It was obvious by his actions- the way he postured and when he would and wouldn’t look you in the eye, caring in a way you were mystified by, the origin of such affection alien to you yet welcomed all the same even in spite of its impropriety.

He was less nauseated by the waters now and he spent more time aboard ships as a watcher, learner and sometimes helper, a privilege not many were afforded, the last part going unsaid as you were sure any son of a shiphand would have been long since used to the seas.

That was of the most minor importance, however. You were never too old to earn your sea legs. His efforts, instructed or not, were still very much appreciated.

You too would perform well by both your own want and volition.

You chose to bump his shoulder with your own as you slowed, closer now to the village than the docks. 

Closeness was expected from an engaged couple.

You were set by the waving grass near the upper cliffs, not so close to the edge as to merit worry over crumbling rock yet not so far that the seas just below were obscured to you.

A short row of trees lined your way to the village kingdom, a thin, sparse mimicry of the forest beyond the bridge on the other side of the island, no doubt soon to be cut down and used for woodstock.

A rock protruded from the ground next to another just by it, both in a way that put you by the sea, closer to the cliff’s edge than away towards the treeline as you leaned against it.

Your fiance did the same.

Hiccup was nervous again.

As you settled, you eyed a pouch by his hip, the majority of it concealed by the fur of his coat yet spotted by you all the same as you made your way up the dock ramps.

You’d expected it, or at least something of a similar sort.

You’d come with a purpose, your visit in part an inspection.

The others, they would swarm the markets and try to leech off slain dragon skin and hide and scale. You had another matter, a pointed one, one that you were very well expected to tend to with haste and heavy judgment. 

This was far from the aimless sort of company shared by the you from months ago, indulged in by your fiance. Your life was a product you had to sell, you were pointedly aware, yet only one part of the agreed upon exchange.

Of course, if he was to one day join you as a craftsman on the water, it was of the utmost importance that you make sure he could, in fact, make things.

“I’ve-I’ve got something,” Hiccup started hesitantly, shoulders hunched.

He was told to show and present it to you- He must have been, because his demeanor was tamed, schooled yet restless as if he expected a test by which he was afraid he might be found lacking. 

It was obvious earlier by the twitchiness of his hands and the sweat beading on his clenched palms as he grabbed onto your own. It was obvious now in the way he still wouldn’t look you in the eye.

“You do?” You asked, feigning surprise and a careless indifference. It was supposed to convey comfort and to lessen the pressure of expectation.

“You can keep it, if you want- I-” Hiccup tried, appealing to you the best he could before cutting himself off, pulling open the pouch and, very carefully, by the blade this time, handing you the shining handle of a sharp knife.

You were reminded sharply yet not unexpectedly of a time when you were kids and he handed you something of a similar nature, small and dull and bent out of shape. 

It was nostalgic.

You looked down, grabbing it carefully, rubbing over the only unmarred -uncarved, you should say- bits of the knife with a soft thumb, feeling nothing but round surface.

It appeared he was a good craftsman, the hand smooth and varnished, notches and designs carved into both the wooden handle and the blade. The woodwork was of the most importance. His access to a forge would be naught overseas.

What interested you the most were his mistakes. Your hands were well trained, and through experience and teaching, you’d learned it was the smallest of things that could make or break a sale. 

If there were too many resources expended on things of lowest quality, it would mean space lost bringing trade from one place to another. These were things that needed to be accounted for to the very last detail when you were traveling on a ship as packed as yours for so far a distance. If they were not, then you were better off dead than above the waves.

There was still a slight number of scratches and bumps in places like corners and on the handle, smudged by soot in the shape of fingerprints that told of inexperience and a slightly clumsy, novice hand, and yet his progress spoke more- he was average, for his age. Unpracticed in the art yet familiar with the semantics, skills more geared towards practicalities than fancy. 

You could not glean the full scope of his abilities from just a knife, that was true, but this was good enough.

It would serve you and everyone else just fine. In fact, it was much nicer than anything you’d been allowed to touch in a while.

You glanced back up at him without lifting your head.

Hiccup’s nerves seemed to grow more as he waited for your response, hands wringing, expression pinched as if he was about to build up a sweat, sooted hair seeming to wilt with him.

The poor boy was sweating.

You stood straight, letting the knife fall to your side, hooking it onto your belt as you reached for his hand.

He seemed to relax.

“It’s nice,” You said simply, yet with an abundance of appreciation.

Yet you didn’t relax, as your part wasn’t yet over. This was something you couldn’t sugarcoat, as it came with a catch. Many catches, for him. Inevitable ones, negotiations having long since been made on his behalf, not many having to do with accommodations.

How to bring forth the topic, though, was the question.

“Are there any things to know? Things I… should know?” Hiccup shuffled his boot against the dirt, “About trust and… And other things?”

Hiccup spoke haltingly, as if he’d realized he’d messed up very quickly and yet had been too far along his thoughts to stop at any appropriate time.

You hummed questioningly, though you were certain; It seems your intrepid fiance had beaten you to the punch. You chose to take no offense.

He had been well prepared for this conversation, it seemed. Not in the ways that would make life easier for him, but in the ways you supposed his father would find relevant.

“I mean… Responsibilities?”

“Trust isn’t important beyond what’s needed to be able to make a trade,” You shrugged, “The only responsibility you’d have are the ones involving your goods. There is no home besides the one you make over the sea.”

Your. Not our. The sharing of assets was something you were not yet decided on or old enough to try, but one day you supposed it would be a must. 

“No treaties. No Vikings. No ties. Just travel,” You murmured, placing both of your hands over his, “You’re my only tie.”

“Honesty?” He said, referring to the word in a way that, for the second time, made you think he’d been over this with someone else before, face tilted and eyes wide in a way that conveyed insecurity in the face of danger,  “I heard… the others, from your group- they’re going to try and scam some of the villagers out of their coin?”

That certainly must have come from his own words and his own heart.

You still did not take offense.

You pulled your hands slowly back to yourself as you leaned back and pondered, leaving shaking, softer knuckles behind.

The other villagers here were very clearly disgruntled at having to honor the dishonorable. It would be upsetting for him to know that one day he might have to face the same scorn, regardless of whether or not he was truly a liar. 

Yours was not at all the fighting sort, however you were silver in other ways, unlike the merchants they typically chose and cherrypicked and allowed passage onto their shores.

You were sure his clansmen already believed him to be so. He was bright and flighty and still and they were not kind. Neither were your folk, in many other ways. Both, you knew, were cautious of each other, your ilk more proactive with words, wielding phrases that bit and knives to stomachs.

You understood him, still as the wind brushed past you from the sea, tangy with the smell of salt, reminding your tongue of the taste of it as it went breezing through and past your poncho.

There was safety in it. A desire to protect oneself from the perceived. From the outside. It was just that your inside was much smaller. It forced you to look outwards more often than not, and perhaps that was what intimidated Hiccup so much.

However, If Stoick the Vast believed being on a boat was safer than being on Berk, he was wrong. Or perhaps right, but only in the most bare sense. If he kept to himself, his son should be fine. Even if you didn’t do the same, holding deep trade secrets or vyied-after product.

People came and went quickly.

It was a quick and daring life, not always long if you were on the front lines, but he’d live a long while, well into old age at least as his father most likely intended.

“It’s nothing I have to do with… but it’s something I will have to do one day,” You said bluntly, yet your voice was still soft, “Maybe.”

There was no shake to his voice, though you could hear caution, “Will I have to?”

You murmured sounds nonsensically into the air, raising a skeptical brow, feeling the sharp, cold, flat surface of a rock press against your backside as you leaned further back.

That seemed to be enough of an answer for him.

“I guess I’ll have to man up, huh?”

You recalled a child’s wandering, more whispers of him not being man enough to drop the fool you were, rashly and rowdily and suddenly. It would be quite easy to be rid of you, though you didn’t care much at all what he did, just so long as you could be honest by the trade.

“You’ll be a craftsman. That’s plenty man enough- very useful, the most over the sea,” You were familiar with his propensity to get sick over the water, the one he’d had when you were young kids that made fishing nigh impossible and travel incredibly difficult. You hoped he’d grown out of that, despite his assuring words.

You nodded to yourself unsurely, “That’s the finest advice I can give you now.”

By the twisting laws of word, structure and sense you could say it wasn’t necessarily advice. It didn’t make much sense for it to be.

There was better advice out in the world. The kind that inspired the innovative, the kind that asked the bright minded to twist convention and birthed new processes and brought blessings into the world. He was probably better off taking that instead.

You told him so.

“All you’ll need to know to do with a knife is stab, anyhow. Some skinning, I suppose. How to gut a fish,” You tilted your head to the side, eyes wandering slightly, irises briefly bobbing towards a cawing sea bird, brave to be out in reptilian-infested skies, though you knew the day was safe. Mostly, “Guard your coin, sleep tight.”

“Coin?” Hiccup asked, sitting up straighter. 

You gazed back at him plainly, giving him a simple nod.

Wealth came and went. You learned to hide it, guard it preciously.

Another thing you told him. The first part, anyhow. The second you kept to yourself. You’d done enough frightening off recently.

“This is- my own thing, for you, then,” Hiccup suggested, rifling again in that small pouch of his, grasping in a way that poked against the sides of fabric walls, grasping frustratedly for something it took him much too long to touch, his face tilted down with a mildly disgruntled expression on his face.

He pulled first something that glinted and went back in for something else, pinching fabric and dropping things back into the pouch when he meant not to, fingernails too blunt to get a good grip.

It was a few moments longer and a few light, frustrated grunts from him, until you had been bestowed upon something small and hand-warmed and cool in what you could feel in a way you likened to patches, off-putting slightly yet not unwelcome to you. 

You rolled it from your palm to a place pinched between your fingers with a smooth if not uncomfortable and odd-looking action, too familiar with the act of handling coins despite their fleeting nature.

There was a scratch in the corner, though despite that the coin was clean to an average degree and smooth on one side in a way that made you think someone had spent a long time rubbing at its face with their thumb, perhaps, or another finger.

It was dull with the oils from the hand, yet it wasn’t so thick, mostly dull in places hard to reach, like the corners where runes had been largely and blocking inscribed, telling you it had been a while since it had left the hands of the person that had done the rubbing and it had been cleaned at least once.

You’d stopped paying attention to your surroundings, slightly craning your neck down and bringing your hand up to look closer at the coin in a way that felt uncharacteristic as your attentions were brought to other things, your calm demeanor returning you back to an even calmer state. 

Already his hands were lifted, hovering by your neck in a way that felt heavy, moving with jerky hesitance. 

His clenched fingers brushed past your ear in a way that didn’t touch but made you sense, heat passing lesser heat as he dropped a thick, wide twine cord down the rest of the way to your shoulders, it pulling slightly taut against the back of your neck and it was pulled forwards by the light weight near the front of it.

You looked down in a way that made your chin touch your neck and the back of your nap stretch, eyes straining down.

There, by your chest lay a smaller pouch -one where he was probably supposed to hold the coin, yet didn’t in a fashion that was very typical for a boy from your peer group- one he hung around your neck.

“For the advice,” Hiccup suggested awkwardly.

You had stood there in puzzled silence for a while.

Eventually, you reached a time to part or leave, just briefly, temporarily separating perhaps as you made your way off, back towards civilization.

First, though, you looked towards your to-be husband.

He’d leaned closer just a moment before, and now he seemed hesitant, for obvious reasons.

The one time you had seen a rodent entrapped by a snare, suffocating and infected, neck bloating in a way that said it had been left out, injured, for days? It was a miracle it had survived so long, twitching and antsy and suffering- it was also inedible.

Hiccup looked like that.

Lips pursed slightly, not in a noutwards manner, more resembling a line, thought his intentions were clear, face red as if he’d been holding his breath for a while -he had been- eyes twitching even as they remained lidded, stressed like a string about to snap.

-Of course, you’d done nothing of the sort before. You would do nothing improper. Nothing to jeopardize your deal. Not when it’d done so much- not yet, but.

It would go against a given, unspoken contract, the expectation things proceeded slowly, as they should in a way that was socially appropriate for teens your age. Before, it had. But maybe not… Now.

You’d not have much time left, though you were too… Dazed, perhaps. Not in a rush, carefully considering everything and nothing in the few long yet away-slipping seconds it took for you to make your decision.

His twitching eyes were slowly opening, pupils darting with slight humiliation and hesitance, perhaps, hoping you hadn’t noticed somehow.

You nearly had the desire to pretend you hadn’t- to have mercy on him.

You took pity on him and moved closer. You would do nothing more than this.

A press on the cheek. Then something simple. A peck on the lips.

For the coin, You decided.

Later, you could explain what went on- the ins and outs and the other complicated social politics involving your merchants and the sort of ins and outs he’d need to be living with them. You did. You had to.

Even later in the day, after a brief stint on the water with the fishermen, you’d witness your first dragon raid. Your fiance seemed to be a bit too into the violence. That was fine.

He was a Viking- and as such, you decided it was expected. 

Once again you found yourself on Berk’s docks. 

After long travels and a few years, you’d reentered the Archipelago to rumors of a mighty dragon tamer and a blossoming romance, which seemed to indicate for you some trouble brewing on the horizon, luring you back towards Berk.

The last you heard, he’d found another, the news broken by an envoy. Though you didn't particularly hold faith in those heavy words, you still listened, and waited for more. At a gainly pace, you’d made your way across the oceans, stopping appropriately when trade dictated. However, a budding curiosity, unstifled, grew in your chest. 

You’d seen a desert though you’d had not enough time to make the Great Journey across to the other side, where spices and silks were in more abundance and half your caravan had been replaced with another sort as some grew too old to do anything but settle, others splitting off to join other groups and travel new routes. 

They had been replaced all at once after a long period of dwindling by a particularly rough band of folks, wielding knives with blades skillfully curved as a snake moving through sand. 

Most were from way down south, ones who had chosen to migrate away from their cities, in part perhaps due to some terrible, inescapable treachery. There were some from the islands around the archipelago, too. You were wary of them, though their kind was not a new one to you, no different from the worst of the few short-lasting you’d grown up with and had known before.

You had returned from your travels with dangling gold bangles and coins attached to skirts locked away in a trunk seep in the ship for the wily patrons on Knaff or the auctioneers in the small Ice fortress up by the Northlands, something to exchange for their colorful furs which would surely be well received by the Romans.

Another trip by the main continent blessed you with more colorful clothes and fabrics and silks and, with the excess of inventory and the accidental destruction and loss of a great number of old, darned clothes over your travels, your bunch was able to donn nicer clothes, a league of distance from the tattered grays and the muddy, green-ish sand color you were used to.

The traumatizing child incident still dictated that you hated chocolate, or whatever sweet could be made up in its likeness, but you’d brought back something similar anyways.

You hoped that a few of the Northmen would stay, settling for their homeland and satisfied by the bragging rights bestowed upon them by their long journey and their trade, now that they’d had it up to their heads and shriveled hearts in travel and experience. Not that that experience tended to stick, as you and your more sane shipmates mumbled back and forth to each other. Some people were too hard-headed to truly take in any lessons or worldly knowledge.

You loathed that they were able to share in your joy and luck, also dressed in fabrics of multiple colors.

You also hoped they would not cause some sort of accidental betrayal on your part as they swindled and stole, so that your standing with your fiance would not be sabotaged nor your promised exchange mishandled somehow in any way worse than it already had been, forcing you to shed allegiances where they mustn’t be shed

You would have to keep an eye on them if not warned the inhabitants of Berk off all of them altogether.

As you’d docked, you’d seen… Dragons. You tried not to show you apprehensiveness, stepping out with surety as the locals around you moved casually, talking freely and without that usual, aggressive weight.

Brightly colored tails curled and lashed as large bodies crept just out of view, colorful spots flapping through the sky like carefree birds. The atmosphere here was so much lighter in a way that must have run as deep as Berk’s culture and altered way of life. You could feel it.

The docks were bustling this time, villagers moving freely along the wide dock floor, clearly newly repaired and well taken care of, receiving you better than they ever had before. The new goods probably helped some, too. You’d never come to Berk with such a boon before.

You hoped your fiance hadn’t put in a good word for you. It would be a shame if it all went to waste, ruining his credibility as you were sure your new group’s half would ruin yours.

You heard the names of a Sven, a Mjolnir, an Agnarr, a Thora all before you’d seen him.

You weren’t sure what you expected. Would he be taller, more built so as to match his reputation, or would it proceed him? It ended up being neither.

Rays beat down on your covered shoulders in a way that made the skin just above flesh feel like a hot rock.

The sun was warm and heady in a pressing manner, though not incredibly so, not the way it was, exhausting and persistently dry as it was further down south, nor as it was over the oceans, on days you feared you’d run out of fresh water before you could cool and boil a new batch of buckets.

It took a moment, but through the crowd, as your shipmates siphoned out in pairs of twos with chests and sly words, you spotted him. 

Two large, heavy shoulders reaching a few heads above his own parted to reveal Hiccup.

Immediately, to you, the change in dynamic was obvious, like some switch being pressed, flicked and another mechanism- a snare trap, perhaps, or something simpler- flung.

Your intrepid fiance now seemed to embody the title completely, adapting to his position as the Hope and Heir- at least, as you said it.

You presumed that, with his success, after this moment, you would no longer be expected to sweep him away and save him from this island. It seemed, in the most metaphorical sense, as if he might be the one doing all the sweeping from now on.

He was still quite skinny, though a measure taller than he’d been when you’d last seen him. However, he seemed a great deal more confident in ways you couldn’t describe, not that he wasn’t confident before, but this sort seemed to increase his presence in a way you were sure his father approved of. 

You hoped he’d lost none of his sarcasm, his silver tongue, the propensity to exchange sharp words in jest with others in a way you’d come to associate with the flavor of smoke and steel in the air, in a way you’d spent your time here looking in on, when it happened, though none it ever seemed to occur while two of you alone.

He came up to you quickly, not minding the murmuring of the crowd at all, and you’d taken a step forwards to join him in greeting before realizing he was coming forwards perhaps a tad too fast given what was appropriate. By then, you’d half- fed into the urge to step back. 

In one moment, you’d been struck with indecision, which was jarring on its own, stuck deciding where you wanted to focus your redistributed weight. In the next, he…

He’d hooked his arms under yours, hands coming to clutch quickly at your back and waist as he pulled you clumsily closer.

In a move that was sudden and surprising to you, brought your faces together, a clumsy jab of teeth wrought with joyful emotion.

He looked appreciative, though you couldn’t pin why. Was it the quirked smile pulling at his cheeks? The careful, worried tilt of his brows or the appearance of two slightly gapped -though not so distant as they had been before when you were younger- teeth that had told you so?

It startled you, not a feeling borne out of fear, distaste or any other particularly tangible and immediately describable emotion, moreso it was a feeling sprouting quickly out of the momentary rudeness of his actions and the lack of time you’d had to think or mull.

Once you parted, you could not help but lean back into his arms slightly, hands coming up to rest on his shoulders, firmly but without any intense grip.

You looked at his face.

You had no clue where his enthusiasm had come from.

“I heard rumors you’d moved on,” You said, finally. It had taken you a moment to figure out what to say, as tiny dragon’s claws skittered across the docks behind you, casual as a fowl’s.

You resisted the urge to look, continuing to examine your fiance’s face. 

Dragons were fewer and farther between the further you got from the Archipelago. It was something to look at, surely, when you’d less of other things to focus on.

“Who said that?” Worry broke through his expression like the hull of a ship through a stormy wave.

“I’m not sure. I only hear what’s been passed. Ear to ear and the like,” You hummed, sort of mumbling as you pulled back a bit and examined the spring and peg that seemed to have replaced his left foot, “Is it true?”

“No,” Hiccup said firmly, brows furrowed, voice concerned and sort of hurt, “No, of course not.”

You raised your brow.

You supposed it really could have been a rumor, though still you wondered what could have been said that had spiraled so quickly, suddenly and largely. 

Dragon taming seemed an impossible feat, one that the people outside were trying to make sense of. In the meantime, not many were brave enough to venture up to Berk’s shores. It was so fantastical a claim it seemed a story, and so it wasn’t a far stretch to assume the travelers had taken it that way and treated it as such, molding the rumors to their own liking, more than news already tended to be stretched and bent as it passed from ear to ear.

You weren’t sure if you were glad that you had come so quickly to check. 

If you hadn’t, you were sure your engagement would have been all for naught, unless your fiance decided to pursue you on dragonback.

Your eyes were drawn briefly to some fighting on the docks, a dry look from you aimed towards them.

A wily man with a curled, thin mustache and a long beard who you knew likened himself to a genius -a wise man well traveled- but was actually a foul, hunch-backed man was arguing with a local man thrice his size, built like a fortress with flowing blonde hair and a beard that, though not as long as your groupmates', was five times as wide.

You were sure it would soon get physical.

You sighed. It was better you differentiated yourselves from them now, rather than let it lie and suffer the associated consequences later. 

“Yes, well, before we get into the meat of things-” You sighed, “I bring a warning- some of the others in my troop-...”

You heard snickering from a pair of what must have been twins, hair the same shade of pale, sandy blonde, though one had their hair knotted in two brains while the other had slightly broader shoulders under a manure-colored vest and thicker helmet horns. 

Their shoulders were bouncing with malicious glee, their enthusiasm feeding into the upset.

You hadn’t noticed them behind at first, too taken by your fiance’s sudden appearance, however it seemed there had been a procession. 

There was a small group of Vikings about your age standing behind, where Hiccup had been before. The common emotion among the younger Viking folk seemed to be slight skepticism and mild shock, most intensely from a stocky boy with a missing tooth, closely followed by a thin blonde with a sharp eye, probably displeased by your careless display of affection. Yet, even among those two, most of their attention was focused on the budding fight a few steps aside. 

You thought that you could maybe recognize one, though it was fleeting and could very well have been a delusion, an easy mistake. Doppelgangers were common, easy to find wherever you went, each face used and reused over plains and mountains and sprawling countries.

You relaxed, arms still somewhat entangled with Hiccup’s, welcoming the embrace, which seemed to make your fiance joyful yet still as you two continued to break past the distant boundaries of your relationship.

“They’ll… Handle it.” Hiccup stated surely, sort of gesturing back to his ungainly posse with one hand, the space it left behind cool and empty over crumpled and wrinkled fabric.

“Ah…” You said, tongue heavy. You were slightly aware of your own accent, heavy and altered and affected by words exchanged over years spent speaking other languages and the stunting of your Norse vocabulary. It was tinted also by the development of your own special dialect after being stuck in close quarters with others who tended not to call the same language their own, “I suppose I must be too late…”

Hiccup sighed back, eyes darting to the side in a way you took as a hint, suggesting through signals that you abandon his small retinue while you still could.

You two used the distraction to your advantage, though you still had a few things you wished to ask, now that some of your more important concerns had been settled.

Would dragon scales make fine jewelry? How had their economy fared, and what would, say, that big, busty man in the large hat pay for a nice new coat?

You hadn’t yet seen his steed or heard mention of it just yet, a mount of scales black as night and a blast with all the violence of lightning and many times the ferociousness of a storm.

You had not yet asked about the future, sure that you would need to give him time for things to settle, though you were acutely aware of what sort of bearing all of this would have on yours.

You stood with him on the cliffs up by the spire that housed the great, grand hall embedded into the mountain and in your travels.

You would be sticking close to the archipelago now on, you decided,  same as you did when you were young and learning more about your new husband-to-be, especially as you reached the agreed upon age to marry.

Technically, as it was now, you could marry at any time. You’d seen people your age getting wed. However, no one had wanted to rush into things so fast, and now was more the time to watch and wait. It wouldn’t do you well to act in haste, not when things were so precarious.

Your tongue felt at an empty socket in your mouth where one of your teeth had been removed by a violent encounter with a rock as you’d stumbled your way upwards.

Perhaps noticing your plight, Hiccup asked, “Are you alright?”

“...Are you appalled?” You rolled your eyes, speaking in turn, lazily tracing the dimming sunlight with half-closed eyes, feeling quite satisfied with a long day well spent.

You displayed your socket past a barely open mouth before closing it, the point of your action not any more to show than to indicate.

You shifted your hands, pressed flat against a rock just behind you, one you'd chosen quite tiredly to lean against and Hiccup had as well, the two of you enjoying the stored heat it radiated into the cooling air.

You could tell Hiccup nearly did the same, eyes almost mirroring yours. 

“It’s charming,” he said, throwing your own words back at you, from earlier in the day, when he’d been dragging a snappish terror along by the prosthetic, its empty gums squishing impishly against the wood and rope on its upper half.

You huffed again and adjusted the cloak draped elegantly across your shoulders by the lapel, a slightly dusty deep, deep blue, nearly black, which shifted in the light like secondhand velvet, before letting your hand fall back again.

You had had a day of simple pleasures. Just Hiccup and you.

His reputation did you wonders. Everyone knew you were engaged, after all. But you didn’t care about that, though it was helpful navigating your way through the village during the short time the two of you had been separated, split by the crowds.

“Merchants can be ferocious too,” You said, voice somewhat loopy with content pleasure.

“Are you sure? There’s one,” Hiccup frowned, “He’s got the most unbearable stories…”

“That’s Johann, then,” You hummed, feeling the heat from his arm also, a close distance away, near enough to feel the heavy from his skin yet far enough not to touch, fingers both pressed flat against rock and separated by a hair.

Hiccup looked at you, brows raised with easy surprise, “You know him?”

“Johann does some dragon-killing himself,” You nodded, “Can’t roam the seas here alone without a swift hand.”

Hiccup looked uneasy.

“Some merchants have a reputation for a reason,” You warned, “Keep an eye out for that one.”

“It just… Seems out of character,” Hiccup said carefully, voice halting.

“It’s to keep you from asking about the Romans, I assume,” You tilted your head back, looking up and enjoying the sun; this was old news to you. One of your folks had tried to get him to join your group, once upon a time, even ignorant to the vast majority of his dealings. 

He was skilled enough, to them, for it not to matter how shady he was. It was worth the danger, you thought, at the time, “I know he deals closely with them. Or, other dragon hunters. It’s very hard for patrons to ask unwanted questions when they don’t have the time, see.”

“I don’t really know much about that. I don’t like it all that much,” Hiccup’s lips tightened into a thin line before quickly correcting, “Not…the merchanting. But the hunting.”

“You used to be so enthusiastic about it,” You shifted, pressing more of your weight against the stone by your back.

“I… Outgrew it. The whole fighting thing. The whole… Viking thing,” Hiccup seemed exhausted, voice tired as he spoke. The words, too, were odd to you.

While dragons had been adapted into life on Berk in a whole new way, the people here didn’t seem any less… Norse.

You thought of looking at him again, giving him a skeptical eye, yet you decided it wasn’t worth the effort you’d have to expend to pull your face down and out of the sunlight, which tickled the senses embedded into your face like blades of grass against your palms and toes.

You’d offer him a solution instead. Whether he liked it or not… He might find some solace in it, anyhow.

“You could come be a merchant with me, instead. As you’d planned. You’d be good for it,” You hummed, yet your heart wasn’t completely in it. 

He could choose, now.

His voice was hesitant, though it seemed he’d like to humor the idea anyways, “You’d want me On your ship? What- Counting coins?”

The suggestion wasn’t incredible to you. It wasn’t like he hadn’t known how to craft or like he hadn’t been prepared for it, this whole time.

“Yes,” You confirmed, “Keeping stock… Making stock. Like you’d been trained.”

He looked down, “What if I refuse?”

You shrugged lazily, despite your earlier concern. Your purpose was not to cause upset, your goal not trouble. Your mind was far from a state where you could act in a completely serious manner, though your tone held the continued taste of formality.

“What about our… Engagement?”

“I suppose you have a choice,” You hummed you stretched without moving, arms muscles flexing, in place, satisfying a deep urge in your muscles to pull, like a washwoman, hands wrought with callouses after finishing a heavy load late into the frigid night, or a thick man, arms dusted with hair and sawdust as he braced his hands against his back and pushed, spine cracking like sharp rocks tapping into each other after being kicked and flat stones being rubbed against one another by the light, clumsy hands of a child.

You’d nearly lost your words, the subject of your conversation fading like gentle thoughts from a fuzzy mind, faint and lost under a sea of buzzing evening pleasure.

“You remember what I gave you last time?” Hiccup asked, after a long moment, in which your head had nearly dropped back as far as it would go, your arms nearly falling limp.

It took you another very long moment to recall.

“The knife or the coin?” You murmured, voice sluggish, eyes closed, “They were nice souvenirs.”

You shifted as you finally looked up, turning towards your fiance with half-lidded eyes and a contented smile.

His expression went from stiff with slight worry to a melted caring.

“Here’s another,” He handed you a cool piece of metal with hesitant hands, yet they were not at all shaking. No apprehension, as they had held the last time you spoke, gone as he’d somehow found a way to grow into himself.

You weren’t sure what the purpose of it was. Was it a promise? Payment for your time?

You hummed and leaned closer, forehead dropping onto his shoulder ever as you pulled your fingers weakly shut around the coin, nuzzling into the fur of his coat; You’d already been in close proximity, so there was no thought expended in the action, especially as the barriers you’d shared had been weakly drifting aside, moving further and faster as you’d spent the day together. 

The light outside was yellow but somewhat waning, still bright enough to shine through the skin of your lids.

I’ll think about it,” He said and you murmured amused nonsense, half furrowing your brows as your eyelids weighed ever heavier with drowsiness, fur hairs tickling and grazing at your brows, “I’m sure. I really wouldn’t be good for it.”

You closed your eyes, breathing softly as he spoke.

You decided that there was nothing more to do, to be active or attentive for, and you were very content after such a long day spent together.

“It’s fine… You’d learn it well, eventually,” You spoke, muffled into his sleeve as your head bobbed further down.

You’d been on the boat’s deck, performing your duty early in the morning since just before the night-darkness turned to morning-darkness, so you were tired. You were one of the earliest awake, the job to navigate to this location one that the others deemed to be your responsibility.

“Are you alright?” Hiccup asked, suddenly.

“I’m just tired.” You said, tilting your head ever so slightly and blinking drowsily up at him.

He looked at you as if he’d been startled, leaning away slightly in a way that caused you to fall forward and look up further, your chin resting on his arms. His mouth was curled to the side slightly just as it was a smidge open, the full range of his pupil visible, an expression you took in with heavy amusement. 

Your fingers tugged at his sleeves ever so gently as you sort of righted yourself; it wasn’t like he hadn’t ever seen your face before.

He smiled, shifting yet somehow closer, bridging the gap between him and you, pressing shoulder against shoulder and teasing your slightly cold fingers with his warm ones.

Later, you would be found messily laying atop each other, sleeping like sunbathing animals, just before the last hints of light faded from the sky. All was well.

You took your busted tooth, strung on twine, and dropped it around his neck.

“You’re weird,” Hiccup said fondly and awkwardly, looking downwards.

You patted his arm.

You supposed, to him, you would be a bit of an odd one.

“Some other people would find it special,” You hummed, knowing the reaction it would rise out of him, “Aren’t you supposed to find it lucky?”

You knew there were some norsemen who kept their teeth with pride, though the tradition was not necessarily one of yours. It may not have been one of Hiccup’s, either.

“I’m not wearing this,” Hiccup warned, “...All the time.”

“I know you’ll keep it close,” You hummed slyly.

Thankfully, only a few things had gone sour, and none of the backs that had been stabbed had been yours. None from your group within a group of merchants. Your hold was a few crewmates lighter, though that served you just as well, the scales in a pouch by your hip more than making up for the loss in your eyes.

You could never stay longer than a few days, yet you made the most of it, knowing that it could be a while before you’d see him again; perhaps not a year or two, as it had been the last time you’d been off. At least, you’d found yourself hoping not.

You pressed a soft peck to his mouth, which felt a bit odd given it was still slightly open, then pulled back and waited, trying to gauge his reaction.

You were met with pleased surprise, a mouth half-open with a smile. 

Then you brushed off your poncho as you stood at the docks, those behind you getting ready to leave.

Men carried chests aboard your smallish home, full of food and wood and other things, traded for luxuries and good stories.

Though the number of Vikings at the docks was few, you were still cautious, leaning closer to him.

There was not so much fanfare as when you arrived, and though you spent very much time together, you felt as if there was still a distance between you and the rest of the people and things involved in his life. 

“You could still come with me,” You whispered into his ear mischievously.

Hiccup rolled his eyes as you pulled back, an amused smile on both your lips, his, once again, slightly more surprised than your own.

You didn’t particularly expect him to take you seriously, his quick smile morphing into a puzzled frown.

“Who will take charge after, though? Everyone expects me to- especially now that I’ve…”

You pondered his dilemma vaguely- they must have had a solution, someone who was assumed to take the place in line behind his father. If Hiccup was to be married off to you, the chance that he was in line at all in the first place was the punchline of a joke.

There must have been some solution- and with his ascension, some political strife among his father’s subjects.

“Make them choose a council,” You said offhandedly, bringing one hand further upwards to squeeze his shoulder, “Vote for it. Some of the larger groups-guilds- do it.”

You both knew you weren’t referring to any Vikings. At least none of the ones your fiance knew of.

You knew the Romans did something similar, though bringing it up with him now would more than likely sour the mood. The Vikings and the Romans… A troublesome rivalry. You were not quite sure how that worked, given the Berkians’ confinement to the Archipelago. 

They probably seemed to be more a group of banded pirates than a civilized society to the Berkians.

“It would be better to have someone closer to their own issues in charge, anyways,” You sighed contemplatively.

The hairs on the back of your neck were prickling, a second sense ringing, honed over years of travel and a few harrowing moments where you had been nearly abandoned by your crew in foreign land after a sudden need to fly.

You were all too aware as the last few of your crewmates shambled up the ramp and into your boat.

“Huh?” Hiccup said dumbly, in a way that felt slightly foolish and in a way that did not follow what you had come to expect from him or suit him at all.

“The common folk. It’s easier to divvy up chores when there’s a group vote. Your father doesn’t have a council?” You asked, as Hiccup grabbed your hands, entwining your fingers.

Even the most solitary king had an advisor or two.

You drew out the moment farther than you would have perhaps allowed in any other situation, never allowing yourself to be in a state where you’d be left behind, not since you were unbelievably young and ignorant to the measures and numbers that could be calculated with just a hand. The others were not at all sympathetic to the ones who’d not been at the boats in time for departure.

“I’ll deal with it later,” Hiccup said unsurely, eyes glancing off to the side, before focusing back onto you.

His look was shared in a way that promised a few more goodbyes, yet a call from the ramp leading up to your ship had drawn your attention away from him.

“Yes… Until next time,” You placed one last press of lips against his cheekbone, half over his eye, before lowering from your toes and gently allowing your fingers to release from his own.

It was all very sudden.

You’d not heard of anyone else who rode a dragon- no one with a dragon quite so dark and devilish. 

 It had to be his, black as a bat, that was quickly approaching you from the sky, which you’d previously thought to be a seabird, shocking given that they never traveled this far out to sea.

You didn’t run, balk or hide as he approached, sure and confident in him as you were in the standing of your engagement, despite the time that passed; until he’d given his word, it was still standing, though you supposed that could be what he’d tracked you down to discuss.

He came looking for you.

His dragon swooped downwards, wings outstretched like a hawk going in for the kill, dropping against the deck with a bounce and a run, the force of it causing your boat to tilt to the side. 

You’d never seen it up close and in person before, leather and scale hide dark as night, tinted blue as the sky nearly always was. 

Astride its back was most definitely a man, just reaching the cusp between teenhood and adulthood, shaped in a way that was slightly different yet altogether recognizable. 

Quicker than any stallion could approach, his mount bounded towards you, blowing in your direction just nearly as fast as the sea wind blew through your scalp, growing suddenly larger until he was up in your face, and then swept half past you.

With the momentum left over from his landing and a grunt, he was able to hook his arm around your waist and pull you up, half spinning you and pulling you up onto the seat of his saddle and over his dragon.

Quickly, your lips met, him dipping his head just slightly even as you were pulled onto the saddle with him, laughing joyfully and with slight startle, wondering what you’d done to enjoy such a passionate embrace.

You weren’t sure where he’d found the strength within those wiry limbs, though you guessed there had to be much more under peachy skin than you originally assumed.

“I didn’t mean for it to be so long,” You murmured, examining the face which had to most definitely belong to your fiance.

You hadn’t the opportunity; this ship wasn’t under your command, after all, or any, and so you were still to bend to the whims of the majority, unable to fulfill the requirements of your duty, though when you could, you made sure to stick close to the Archipelago.

In the years since you’d last seen him, he’d definitely grown taller, now donning brown leather, pressed into a scaled pattern. His jaw had sharpened and you could see a nice pair of cheekbones, previously hidden under waning baby fat.

“I’ll stop by whenever you need,” Hiccup said, almost pleading, with easy acceptance as he brought up his other hand, previously clutching at one of the leather saddle handles under you, now holding your face. 

His knuckles ran down your neck gently, before he lifted it and settled his palm down for a run down your side, parallel to his other.

It was an aweing display of affection, one you supposed you should come to expect if he’d be pushing the limits of your relationship every time you met, something you once again found you weren’t quite against.

You blinked at him, eyelashes brushing against his in a mock display of affection.

You could not hide how you had been thrown off, and yet you couldn’t help the light feeling inside of your chest or the curling of the corners of your mouth that followed, in great contrast to the bitter shouting and disgruntled grumbling of your crewmates working the ropes,

displeased by the shaking of the ship.

“I’ll expect you more often, then,” You hummed, nearly sung, conceding to his affections as your noses touched, your hand casually tugging at a leather strap, the one traveling half the length of his chest like a cut sash.

He wasn't the only one who had changed some; time had made you easier, more relaxed in a few varied ways.

You returned his embrace easily, like one of two love birds or as you’d seen a few tree-crawling animals do during your travels, tails curling and twining together in a universal expression of joy, limbs wrapping around the other as if to convey the extent of their devotion through proximity. 

You could feel the bumps and ridges in the leather he wore through your own tunic’s fabric, stomach pressed flush to his torso.

You were sure he’d fly you back to the ship before they’d gotten far, but that would all be done later.

You had brought and held a scant few of your things, still impressed that he’d flown to you this time.

You stood over a clearing, packed, dry dirt surrounded by saturated green grasses over a cool clifftop, a wide open, empty space 

Along the sides, Hiccup’s companions also lounged, draconic and not. You paid them little attention, and as such they seemed largely disinterested in turn, though a few jeers exposed the novelty of your interaction.

His traveling group consisted of who you assumed to be the same few teens you’d seen on Berk, the ones he’d taken to referring to in passing.

You’d never come to have known them. You’d not even held a conversation the one time you’d been by them at the docks at fifteen winters. You’d not heard enough of them to truly make a space for you to remember them in your recollections, though a few disjointed names floated along the tip of your tongue.

You couldn’t imagine Hiccup was anything but practical when you were gone, or that you existed as anything but a topic not thought of or spoken much about, though nothing was sure as you had to confess that you hadn’t known your fiance as well as you had liked.

You supposed you’d have to get acquainted somewhat further if you were going to be visiting more often now that your husband-to-be was more inclined to go after you than wait for you to return to his home.

“We were planning on… Settling somewhere, exploring a bit,” then Hiccup grumbled under his breath, “is this where you’ve been, all this time?”

You laughed under your breath, arms locked over his shoulders and around his neck in an embrace, enjoying the sun on your face and the day breeze against your nose, “There are a great deal more places outside the archipelago.”

“There are more places outside the archipelago?” He seemed surprised.

You brought one foot back to rub at your ankle and wrinkled your nose at him with amusement; if he hadn’t believed that, then why had he left his little island? 

He probably had, but you couldn’t call him anything less than naive, even if he was wise in other ways.

Though… you could see very well that his inexperience would bloom into something else given the right amount of time. 

“Of course. Where do you think I’d gone all these years? There are no fjords as beautiful as the ones I’ve known here, or waves nearly half as big as the ones I’ve lived past,” You declared calmly, parroting him. 

“I thought those were just… Stories,” Hiccup proposed, eyes darting to the side.

“Not at all,” Your lips curled with amusement.

Some had been exaggerated, maybe, by consequence of your thoughtlessness, too busy or perhaps lazy to recount the story in full, but many if not most had been spoken with words as true as you could make them.

“You’ve no sense of adventure?” You asked, listening to the twittering and rustling of the wind and other living things through the grasses.

“I need to bring it into practice more often,” Hiccup said, determinedly, pupils focused on you, “I’ll probably get to, now.”

“There’s not much to keep besides,” You said, looking down at your belongings softly, the small, warped and dented dull knife and the sharper, more refined but not yet perfect dagger, “But I kept them.”

They lay in a shallow wooden box, a simple one that you’d had since childhood, old and not worth anything. So, it had been something you could hide things away in for yourself and no one would mind.

It was incredibly sentimental for you, your thumb running over a slightly chipped child’s knife handle, remembering how you carried it around for seasons as you had been sure it was your duty to, a representation of your loyalty and dedication to your exchange.

You pulled yourself up from your crouch, bringing your hand back to your side, turning back. 

“You really did, huh?” Your husband-to-be looked at you with sensitive eyes, prosthetic creaking and boot padding against the wood floor as he moved towards you, movements slow in a way that you could only describe as incredibly soft, perhaps too much so, for an interaction you primarily interpreted as casual. 

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

As you’d grown familiar again, Hiccup went to seek you out with more frequency, though he didn’t always find you, not right away. 

He’d gone through many, many adventures yet still somehow found time for you, when he wasn’t off fighting for his life and his dragons’, though it had been a week or two since the last you’d seen him.

You furrowed your brows, looking to the side with your own softening eyes, running a tired hand down the side of your face, “Would you rather I have not?”

“No,” Your fiance returned, though you had the slight suspicion that he hadn’t heeded your words at all, “This is good. It’s- It’s a good thing.”

You shifted slightly to your left to compensate for the slow tilting of the ground below you, leather spines falling against one another as their center of gravity changed.

The shelves built into the walls of your cabin came with a few novels stored, some more worn than others, all with a few loose pages that you’d worked hard to earn, buy, hide and, on the rare occasion, had pettily stolen, carried from dock to dock as merchandise, though your reason for having them was much more selfish. 

During your travels, for many years, you’d wanted for things to do in your free time.

Some were written in multiple languages, some in just one, groups separated by carved tablets, held still by strings nailed across most of your shelving, so that they would not fall over during the rougher storms.

Most of them you would end up selling along with a few other odds and ends that carried, posed on your shelves in a way you felt added to the mystique, some of them booby trapped so that anyone wandering that might have found their way down from the deck wouldn’t be leaving with a full hand. 

The more important things you kept hidden. The fancier gifts lay in secret compartments all around your room, some stuck into the hollow covers of hard-bound books, sewn and nailed together by your own hand. Your old, shallow tray always lay hidden in a shallow compartment in your desk.

Speaking of gifts…

“Take these back with you,” You said, nodding to your side, where lay an array of multicolored, expensive perfume, shelved in neatly packaged rows, stoppers held still by a wooden frame, multicolored glass bodies of different, polished shapes exposed below for display.

Cheap gems lay by it along the dark-stained wood, some of your knicknacks, nothing that would earn you coin or food or any of the resources you would need to travel if you’d tried to sell it in its country of origins, some dyed, pigment laying heavy in some visible cracks in multicolored faces.

You handed him a map as well, many times transcribed and copied by your own hand, taken down from your wall earlier after some further thought, held in its roll by a leather strap and a carefully pressed wax seal.

He might enjoy that one more.

You eyed Hiccup admiringly in your most private inner sanctum.

 It was good to have someone else in your corner, someone by you- a small comfort, what with the commotion above deck. The thought of it caused the hairs on the back of your neck to prickle.

A few days before, you’d interjected at the wrong moment during a heavy argument over an already tense episode.

You’d felt malicious eyes on your back ever since, and your paranoia had been spiking, chills like thorns against your nape. You were worried that your position on board was precarious and you would fall victim to the sabotage you’d always just borne witness to.

The chances of them trying something now, with your fiance around, were much lower.

“Perfume?” Hiccup asked, unimpressed and a little upset as, from a distance he inspected your shelves, one of his hands outstretched in order to grab the rolled-up map as you passed it to him.

Your fingers slid smoothly against Hiccup’s as yellowed paper passed from your hands in a way that you could only describe as sensual.

You knew the scents were ill-suited. The gift had been a suggestion by another, something to keep up the pretense of a healthy engagement. It had been a while since you’d been dutiful, in that sense.

You’d listened, but only because you knew your fiance had been carrying the burden of your relationship for a while. It seemed terribly inconvenient for your valiant to-be to have to come and try to find you each time.

He’d found you this time as you’d been traveling down to Knaff, last you had checked, but that had been days ago. The seas around you now, though, were unusually bumpy for the typically calm fishing region. It was much colder here, wherever you were.

The ship groaned slightly under you, wood crackling, sound reverberating deeply as the vessel moved in near half a rotation.

At one point, you considered splitting off with some of your other crewmates, onto a different ship, where you’d be afforded more freedom. It would provide you with more of the freedom to visit with your fiance.

Though- the idea of traveling away from the one place you’d stuck by since you were a very, very small child- you’d been born on another ship, though you hadn’t seen that one since you’d been three or five- it was a daunting idea, and one that would ultimately bring more harm than good.

You had been slowly working your way up the ranks, taking more charge and responsibility over the deck and under it. To leave- you’d have to fight tooth and nail to ensure you kept some level of authority.

You had to fight for the right to your own room. 

You shed your overcoat, dropping it along the top half of your chair, the one poised in front of your desk, papers ordered neatly and in a way that would prevent them from sliding off the top, quill and ink bottle also secured into a carved, shallow hole in the corner of it. 

You were born into the life of a traveling merchant and there you would stay. And, if it came down to it, you knew you wouldn’t stay grounded. A life wondering was much less terrible than a life shackled to land.

Jumping ship now seemed to be the wrong move, especially at a time when your fiance had a flying, fire-breathing dragon free for his own fast-traveling use. However, if you had your own way into the sky… Or, if he’d like to lend you his, well, you couldn’t toss that idea completely.

“I did not pick it out,” You grumbled eventually, voice low in case your voice carried past the wall, where you could hear the quiet, packed groaning and shifting of your crewmates, off duty, “You’ll like the other one more. Give the scents to your other secret girlfriend.”

You would have to find a way to compensate for his efforts, to return the formality, in other ways.

 Shadows danced and lingered moodily, filling the room with something that was nearly occult, your way lit by glass-covered candles with holes along the front as your ship rocked slowly, evening turning to true night.

Of course it was dark and dim in your cabin at the end of your small hall, your room wide yet inconvenient in the event the ship started to flood, or went down, with no exit holes or doors to provide any extra light.

Hiccup started, stepping towards you in his startlement, speaking quietly as he was reminded by the low tone of your voice to keep his down too, “Secret girlfriend?”

There was another chair in the direction you strode, further obscured by shadow, though a small candle lay in that same area, your dull sandy green-gray poncho already dropped over its wooden top.

It was completely opposite to the side of your room that held Hiccup, shelves to his back and lining the wall all the way up to your small, boarded wooden door on one side, stopping just before the place which had had your cot in the corner. 

That one was a soft bed with no frame, a world of difference from the hammock lining the other rooms in this ship, held in place by a shallow border not unlike the kind farmers cultivated that lined shallow beds of herbs and flowers.

You stopped your striding once you reached your small changing area, hooking your fingers under worn, slightly dirtied fabric with a displeased twitch of your lips, lifting and pulling it aside until it rested on the very edge of your chair in one smooth, neat motion.

It revealed white fabric, folded over twice and hanging under where your poncho previously lay.

“The Hofferson girl,” You rolled your eyes unseriously. You’d heard the rumors, yet hadn’t taken them seriously. 

The tips of your fingers teased the white fabric, a classic wool, contrasting against scarring on your hands from working the ropes, before you pulled it up and hung it over one arm, embroidered hems shifting at the motion like a fine curtain in front of an open window, slightly billowing as you turned.

You ran quick fingers down a smooth frame to your side, ready to hook your fingers underneath it and pull.

“Astrid?” Hiccup asked, startled, “No- We’re not-”

“You’re not?” You attempted a tease as you turned your attention fully towards the door, though your fiance looked much too puzzled to have caught on to your jest. You also did not joke very often- and therein may have laid the problem.

“I mean, maybe I thought about it once, when I was, like, ten… But, no-! I mean…”

You did not take offense to the suggestion- you had sort of expected the topic to show face eventually. 

You pulled lightly on the door’s frame, listening to the roll and scrape of wood against wood as you pulled its screen across the room and between both you and Hiccup, light dancing oddly through the paper and slightly muffling any sound coming from the other side.

You had not been coached on how to respond to the topic of a straying eye any more than you’d been coached in the art of body language and petty subterfuge. However, you were confident in your ability to navigate the conversation.

You learned, of course, that for others, it was quite natural for the mind to wander, as long as the hands stayed put. In a situation such as yours where the pairing was born more from duty and obligation than choice, you could not shame him for the thought.And he’d been only a child, at that. 

It was hardly a breach of contract.

 You released your hand on the pull out door standing half-open on one side of you.

You were far from the ship’s darling- you had argued with the others for the privilege of having that door. One man was under the fool impression that it would upset the balance of the boat, as if his goods-hoarding on the other side hadn’t done enough damage on its own.

“You never thought about anyone else?” Hiccup asked, as you tugged on the bottommost hem of your tunic, your belts long since discarded.

You considered his words, pausing for a moment. You hadn’t many other options, in terms of folks to ogle at.

The thought -not quite that one, but a similar one- had come to you on a day when you’d been working the sails, hands wrapped around the ship’s ropes, sleeves rolled up past your elbows. You didn’t believe it -of course, this arrangement had been made less willingly on his part than yours, so it came as a surprise, to you, the idea that he might have thought of you at all, when you’d been gone, yet you knew he kept your tooth in his belt. 

He’d called you odd for giving it to him, once, but- You’d found him to be much more of an ‘oddball.’

You tongued the empty socket, which had grown much shallower and thinner as your gums had healed. 

“No,” You said, face blank, though you were sure he could not see it, especially as you pulled your tunic upwards, largely distorting your shadow, “I am engaged.”

You knew from experience that on the other side, your shirtless form would cast a shadow against the opposite wall through the decorated paper face of your sliding wall, matching the outline of a rip on just one side, just above a carefully embroidered branch of flowers, a faulty import which you’d fixed with some thread and a needle.

You’d spent hours warning others away -children and the busy adult folk- in case the distraction caused you to poke your eye out, the bobbing of the ship making your predicament all the more dangerous.

You listened to the heavy shifting of your own fabrics, not intending to leave Hiccup to stew in silence and yet that was what happened all the same.

Offhandedly and without intention, you’d been listening, and what you heard could perhaps have been a swallow or a noise coming in strongly from the other room or up from the groaning wood. Maybe it was something that had traveled through the walls from the outside, the pouding of footsteps above heavy.

You watched in your periphery as your shadow stretched and bowed against transparent, casting paper as you dropped your tunic to the seat of your chair, half bare form dancing with the tiny flame on your other side in a way you might have likened to some type of poetry had you been focused on it at all.

Then, once again you felt at the frame to one side of you, hooking your fingers around its side.

You revealed yourself, your sliding door sticking slightly as you pushed it back aside, yet you kept your eyes down as, with one thumb, you traced the seam along one of your sides.

You felt your hand through the fabric, probing and dull, sliding down to just below your waist, your eyes looking down all the while in order to make sure it lay correctly over the nearly invisible hem of your trousers underneath.

Then you lifted your head.

Your fiance had paused, his hand grazing against the top of your desk on the opposite side of your room.

As you looked up at him, you registered a mouth parted slightly and your eyes focused on the slight shift of his Adam's apple.

His own eyes seemed interested, curious, focused on your gown and its hem, which  reached low. Lower than you were used to, in a way that reminded you of a dream you’d had once about white child’s robes and tiny brown-haired boys.

“How does it look?” You asked, arms splayed out slightly.

“What’s the, uh-” Hiccup laughed nervously, low and under his breath, hand leaning heavy against your desk chair, other palm running through his hair, “The white for?”

“You may not be thinking of it yet, but we are of marriageable age,” You insisted, “ Once you decide what to do -in spite of whatever you choose- I need to have a presentable wardrobe.”

“What- What?”

“The point of our engagement -any engagement- is marriage, dear future husband of mine,” You grumbled, “Unless you intend to break it off?”

Hiccup stumbled forwards slightly as the boat rocked particularly roughly.

Some incredibly muffled shouting from above deck sounded finally through the wood, a sure sign that his dragon above was wreaking havoc. 

He would need to attend to it, soon, as you would other things. Wedding preparations were a far off thought, fallen to the wayside until you once again expressed the need to check to see if things were still in order.

“No! No- no, not at all,” Hiccup said, waving his hands around in front of him, “I just don’t know if I’m… ready.”

It was inevitable, the choice he’d have to make- you weren’t sure what kinds of reassurances you could offer him. 

You could say that you would keep him safe, that you would mind him well as you’d prepared for most of your life, but it was clear that that wouldn’t be needed any longer. Really, with his dragon, he would be the one doing the minding.

You knew that, in his home, a grand-looking sword hung on the wall which was meant for you, as you'd been made to know by reading between the lines. It was a sword made for marriage, and it had been made by Hiccup, apparently, though you knew he was surely much too young at fifteen summers to make some of the detailing on the handle anywhere near as fine.

And yes- the thought hit you with little fanfare- ‘Summers’ seemed a more appropriate term to measure him by, anyways. He was eighteen summers. It felt righter than eighteen winters, though that was the standard unit of measure, here.

Really, Hiccup was very… Alive. 

You rolled your eyes, “I will be prepared for when you are.”

Maybe he was not the most passionate or violent, but he felt- Well, you saw he could be combative and he had wants that you recognized. He was not the warmest but he was very warm, compared to you, and he indulged in contact frequently when the situation deemed it appropriate. You had to say he did, in fact, embody those traits more so than most, as you’d known them.

You examined Hiccup’s roiling expression, leaning to the left side as the ship leaned particularly hard to the right.

You were only slightly surprised when your fiance spoke, ready to turn away and put your casual clothes back on, with or without his approval, “You wouldn’t… Leave? I know whatever we have was just…” A contract. An exchange. You were familiar with the concept.

He had a way with words, too, that made you feel slightly as if you could be warm as well. He was, in a way, like the summer to your fleeting winter. So, he was nineteen summers, perhaps, or maybe twenty. Numbers tended to change when you altered the unit of measure. 

You were about the same number of winters, now. Whether that made you all the more fitting for each other or whether or not it was the first indication of the inevitable failure of your engagement had remained to be seen. 

“A deal’s a deal. However, ties are easily cut- Should you have been found lacking at any time, and I had measured my worth differently, I would have left,” You grumbled, “I am satisfied with our arrangement.”

After a while of silence, your fiance spoke again.

“I guess I am, too,” Hiccup said, striding quickly over the few feet parting the two of you, hooking an arm behind your waist as if to feel you out in your new garments, pulling you flush to him, his belts and straps pressing into your skin in a way that felt quite natural.

You looked into your fiance’s eyes. The folds below seemed slightly deeper, the coloring underneath darker than they should have been had he been rested, his grip slightly weaker than it had been earlier when he had seemed more wakeful.

You would, too, head to bed soon. It was much too late for him to fly back alone, so late at night, you thought. You wondered if he would sleep besides you this night?

You smiled.

Your frantic, all-consuming panic quickly broke into anger.

The sleep that had been spirited away from you as you had been accosted in the middle of the night then crept dangerously up against your back, weighing your lids, luring you towards a thick, minacious rest.

 You’d ground your teeth weakly, fluttering your eyelids as you fought yourself back into wakefulness.

They had tried to kill you- and even worse, they had tried to steal your fiance’s Fury. They had no idea what sort of boundaries they had crossed, political and otherwise. 

It was an idiot move- to cross an island full of bloodlusted clansmen with dragons.

They knocked you overboard into the water as you slept, tossing a few things out after you into the bobbing bergs and fractured ice below, which you had to soldier through, hauling up the nearly completely hollow chest, holding what number of your belongings you could muster. 

You could never go back after such a betrayal, even if every single member of your ship was meticulously picked off and skinned.

You cursed, nose wrinkling and face morphing into an expression you thought must be ugly as you stared angrily into the opaque white and transparent ice walls, displaying long-since sealed over pockets.

What had they even been planning to tell Stoick the Vast- were they just going to say his heir had died? Been thrown overboard as they had taunted as they sailed away?

They couldn’t be so foolish as to think they could get away with it. They would all die.

Your nails hurt, fingers stiff with cold. The flesh and skin over their bone worked against you, sluggish and unmoving, numb, feeling more akin to an obstruction than a real part of your body.

The lightest layer of flakes, powdered on top of the harder packed snow beneath had been long since displaced by you.

They had Toothless muzzled, his fin ripped to shreds, wrapped tight with rope, leather hanging in scraps from his back, yet he had been too wriggly and too violent to hold and sell as they had planned.

You were stuck inside a hollow cave of ice in a glacier, the entrance looking more like a wide crack in the side than a smooth hole. 

Toothless’ knocking around had trapped you and had also provided you shelter against the elements in a world where you couldn’t conceive of anything but ice, above and below.

The black dragon was outside the collapsed ice tunnel, side pressed to the exit as he scratched at his muzzle made of leather, not as sturdy as it could have been, already just beginning to give under his ripping claws. 

It was much easier for you to make him out when he’d been scrabbling at the walls along the clearer side of the small enclave. Now, he was a fuzzy, filled outline behind ragged gouges, half obscured by fallen, white ice boulders.

He would be fine. 

Dragons had an inner fire about them, a simmer that kept them hot even naked in the frigid winterland your fiance called home.

You were too incensed and bare to do much of anything but shake, your senses fading and your skin discolored by the cold, huddled in the snow as it was packed beneath you.

You’d been through harsh weather before, though you had always been donned in the most appropriate outerwear and all your practice south had meant that you were more accustomed to the heat than cold. 

It was incredibly difficult to find Berk in the winter months as the ocean froze your way- You had never experienced something like this before. The archipelago was something different. Even if you’d wanted to wear the proper clothes, there was no doubt that they had scalped your living quarters already.

You were afraid your lips were blueing, yet your silent fury kept you active; awake, alive.

Now, you were nearly completely bare. It was cold, and you were not as strong against the icy weather as Hiccup was, fine even in just his thin tunic and what bits of his leather armor he could salvage.

At least you were hidden.

“I can’t-” Hiccup said, incensed, voice echoing slightly across the enclosed space, positioned directly across from you on the other side. 

Hiccup was, of course, stuck with you. He wasn’t rendered anywhere near as inept, adapted to the cold. He spent his time fruitlessly grinding at the frigid ice blocking the entrance to the cave.

Nearly invisible beneath his fist was the tiny knife he’d made you years and years before, one of the very few things you’d been able to salvage, that you’d searched and wanted for.

With a rough sigh, he gave up, standing from his half-crouch as if your gaze beckoned him away, his prosthetic barely giving under hsi weight as it, too, probably felt the harsh freeze of winter.

“Are you alright?” Hiccup asked, voice conveying his exhaustion yet burdened by not much more than his aching arms. He was probably well practiced in the hard art of withstanding winter storms.

You took a real look at him for the first time since you’d been thrown overboard, past your own heavy eyelids, a slight appreciation for him blooming behind the rage you felt, not nearly enough to blow the other emotion over but something you could reach if you felt for it.

For a while, you’d seen more and known more- at least that’s what you thought.

You’d wondered when he’d grown up, if in another life you would have gotten to see him change from boy to man up close

What he lacked in relative size, he was able to manage in presence, a conviction so interwoven into his stance and actions it must have carried into his very blood. It was in a way you thought you might only ever see from his Dad, ever as he lay crouched over the blocked cave exit, scratching away at it with near fruitless efforts.

“I’m-m,” You attempted to voice, though what you wanted to say was a mystery even to you- you wanted to voice your thanks, maybe, for accompanying you up to this point, where you might’ve very well died. For not focusing all of his attentions on his dragon in the snow, who could have most quickly flown him away, even if it would have left you freezing dead in the broken white.

Frustratingly, you found your tongue wouldn’t move as you wanted, feeling like an extra lump of bumpy meat in your mouth as the ice below remained sapping away at your heat, cold like spikes hiking up the flesh of your thighs.

You sighed roughly yet shakily, “I’m well.”

Hiccup paused for a moment, staring at you.

You kept close to your only heat source, held up from the barely melting snow below by a small, fat carved block of stone; a tiny fire started using a few things that hadn’t gotten too damp, mostly wood. 

You wanted to shift in the slush, yet you knew if you did, you would feel its bite even more intensely. There was nothing but ice and blue all around you.

You weren’t sure why it hadn’t occurred to you before, but you had half a mind to stand up and get out of the cold.

You jerked but you found you couldn’t get up, hands feeling stuck to your elbows, arms frozen to arms. 

You then sighed forcefully, waveringly. Whiningly.

“Wait- It’s fine,” Hiccup said, moving -stumbling- towards you instead as your shallow breathing echoed throughout the small enclave with worrying volume, “I’ll just-”

He leaned down and touched your shoulder slowly, chilled fingers leaving small bits of ice and a slight, barely-felt trail of water behind.

As if you had been finally granted permission, your body let out a hard shutter, the kind that made you flex your jaw as you were wrought with spasms.

You could feel his arm jump, though the feeling wasn’t as tense and raw as you supposed it should have been.

“You’re cold,” Hiccup said, startled. His voice was tinged with worry.

“An-nd,” You wheezed, speaking concedingly, “Tired.”

“Come here,” He said.

You were able to manage a shift, though you had a hard time tracking what came next as he settled behind you, your eyes closing even as you kept your head up, and you were lost in the blackness and the fuzziness of a drowsy half-sleep.

When your eyes had found themselves open again -by some thoughtless miracle, you were sure- Hiccup was behind you, his own arms circled over your own arms, stuck around your knees.

His prosthetic, still tied to his leg, was positioned away from you, cold metal held a few measures further away than it would have been had he let his leg lie naturally. The metal portion by the very end was nearly completely hidden in the snow.

Your head bobbed heavily as your muscles periodically gave in, a few sharp commands from your waning mind the only thing keeping your head from falling all the way down and you from losing your wits and falling to slumbers.

You’d never felt your head so heavy before.

Hiccup leaned forwards and rested his own head against you, albeit probably unintentionally -at least, as you’d assumed- burying his nose behind your ear. 

“Are you… Are you awake?” He asked, his voice louder to your ears than it had been before, even as its tone was gentle and as your senses were dull to most everything around you.

Hiccup was hot. His skin on yours felt like burning, a dulled version of the feeling of skin teasing boiling water or glancing off glowing red metal, and yet you found yourself drawn to it deeply.

You let out a little noise that could have been a sigh as he pulled closer, scooting inwards.

A few clumps of slough were pushed up and trapped between you as he did, yet you couldn’t find the words to complain, not when he was so kind.

“...I am-m.”

You weren't sure when and how many times you’d nearly drifted off before that moment, humming and grunting disjointedly, everything out of rhythm like an instrument out of time, though you tried to take in your fiance’s voice.

As your vision blurred and you focused in and out of your surroundings, you felt more than registered a dull noise that must have been a loud… something.

You’d probably not be able to feel anything more specific than an all-encompassing chill, and through your troubles, it took you a while to realize that Hiccup was speaking, again.

“...-When we get out of this, you could leave with me… or stay. Whatever you want,” Hiccup suggested honestly.

You opened your mouth, but had to pause. It- what he had been saying… It sounded important.

Yes- Was he talking about… The Archipelago, or his smaller Edge home? The others talked about moving back to Berk sometimes…. and with everything that had happened recently- you couldn’t remember what… It seemed he would be going back soon, anyways. It felt right enough.

It took you a moment, and a while of thinking, during which you must have been making a face, to come up with a somewhat worthy response.

“Yo-u’re going to run away?” You tried to huff, voice tinged with struggle and slur.

“No,” Hiccup said, “Maybe. I just can’t… With my Dad, and the Chiefdom-”

You pushed back into him as much as you could, shifting your shoulders as if you could press more of his heat into you if you’d leaned further into him.

“And it’s-” Hiccup seemed slightly frustrated, though the feeling wasn’t very potent, moreso subtle and said in a way that implied it was aimed towards a very distant thing, “I’m not running away. I just don’t want to do it.”

You tilted your head slightly to glance at him from the corner of your eye, grieving as he pulled his face further from the back of your head.

“I almost ran away once. For real,” He spoke like the confession rolled heavily off his tongue.

You felt a little cold at his admittance, a chill running down your spine. But… 

“I thought I’d come here first… “ He murmured, his forehead touching your nape, “Well, not here-  but I would try and convince you to come travel… with me, instead.”

“Hm-m?” You mumbled,

“I don’t… need it, if I have you. I think,” Hiccup looked down between you, nearly laughing under his breath, “You have enough stories to keep anyone’s thirst for adventure satisfied for life. I spent my life expecting to go with you- and now they want me to stay?” 

He sighed heavily, “I can’t. I can’t. I- I want this.”

He had many more skills than the ones provided by being just a craftsman, now. It would be a pity to throw them all away, but if he didn’t want the life that they provided, then that couldn’t be helped

If you’d be blessed with the privilege, you would take him in with open arms, as you’d planned.

“The-en we’ll d-o-o it,” You mumbled with determination, though you were unable to keep the drag of the chill out of your voice, a sluggish stutter that halted your words.

“Hm?” Hiccup seemed slightly surprised

“I’m-m a merchant, Hiccup,” You closed your eyes, nearly cooing, “If-f you asked your Father- with his blessin-ng- Why would I ever nuh-not travel? …let’s go.”

It took you a long, long moment to speak that last bit.

“You mean it?” Hiccup asked, his voice tinged with a new, slight panic.

There was no buzzing, not yet, yet you were welcomed by the murderously slow nothing in your skin as if your limbs had fallen asleep and lost all feeling, everything above and below bone nothing but gummy padding. 

You might have tried to press your nails past your skin if you could move your arms, to forcefully test if you really could feel nothing, a primitive, pointless experiment.

The loss, to you, was akin to the flavor of illness; feverish, yet the feeling wasn’t centered in your head, and it was more cold than not.

You struggled to keep up the facade of someone who still had their wits about them

“It’ll be-e… easy work,” You breathed, voice growing weaker by the moment, “We-e-e’d- …We will…. m-make it …happen.”

Satisfied with your answer and the incredible effort you expended in order to say it, you went completely silent. 

Hiccup nosed methodically, pressing his mouth to the cartilage behind your lobe, providing you some minor reprieve, his hotter breath dancing over your earlobe and causing you to briefly close your eyes.

You exhaled a breath that must have been pleased, soundless without the energy to make any noise as you went limper.

Your fiance must have said something more but you couldn’t hear it well, consumed by the pleasant feeling of cold leaving your limbs, being sapped from you slowly by what felt like a slow crawl, a cold-hot tingle creeping up your meat, fingers and toes first.

You thought you should be hearing something else, your ears processing sound as if it all was like noise underwater; there was an all-encompassing loud, roaring something from somewhere, which seemed to reverberate around you as you lost track of life, head fuzzy and everything too bright and too neutral at the same time.

Dragon…?

You weren't sure when your eyes fell shut.

You became vaguely aware, floating into semi-consciousness as a light scraping sound filled your ears.

You crinkled your brows and pressed already closed lid together tightly until they hurt, turning over from where you lay flat on your back, pulling the crumpled, frayed end of a blanket with you.

You were aware to a degree of an indistinct radiation of heat to your side, closer to you now that you’d turned over a thin, unfamiliar plush floor, clearly placed over a hard bottom, which you could feel at your shoulder, where you now distributed the majority of your weight.

“Can you get it?” A tired, husky voice grumbled, bordering on nasal, slightly muffled by what must have been fabric.

You knew who it must have been after a moment of slugging processing. 

“No, I’m not-... The,” You groaned, shifting under your end of the blanket, much too tired to sacrifice your nice, warm spot under the blanket, “Mmh-dragon master.”

“You’re the uh- dragon- dragon mastri- mistress…?”

You churred deep in your throat, a noise that was uncharacteristically animalistic at the ungainly title. It certainly didn't fit you, not by design. 

“No, I am not. I am-” You sighed with displeasure, pursing your lips and furrowing your brows at the ridiculous moniker ,rubbing your face deeper into the thin pillow below your head. It was not nearly plush or comfortable enough to hold you comfortably, stiff in a manner which would most likely prove a problem later when your neck began to ache. However, “I am… Hm… Not… sleeping with them.”

You threw out your foot lazily, mind still pleasantly fogged.

Your vision was still dark as you refused to open your eyes, your movements clumsy as your depth perception was hindered, so the first few jerks of your leg bore no fruit.

Nonetheless, the flat of your foot found your silent fiance, applying a steady, weak pressure as it found its place and rested there.

“Aw- Wh-uh?” Hiccup said you made contact with him and the blanket above you began the shift and the brace of your legs against his back began to very slowly push him over, the muscles in his torso still too sleepy to work against yours.

You whined as Hiccup adjusted slowly, letting your legs fall, the sound of him shifting against fabric loud and grating to your ears.

After he settled, there were a few moments of blessed silence and overwhelming sleep, nearly allowing you to drift back off before the cursed scratching started up again.

“Toothless…” Hiccup ground out groggily.

Then, Hiccup’s unruly dragon started beating against wood, with what was most likely his large, leathery paw, the sound much louder now, door.

Even as his dragon kept making a racket and you struggled frustratedly to snuggle back into the thin, cheap plush below, you’d thought Hiccup had gone back to sleep.

You were still not past the point of turn, however, and had half a mind to do the same, despite the noise, until your fiance tried again, “You’re… sleeping with me…?”

“...‘m not a dragon,” You grumbled, voice breathy.

You felt very glad as you heard your fiance let out a strained groan, the shallow cot dipping and wood beneath him creaking as he must have finally gotten up

“Semantics,” Hiccup groaned as the extra blanketing fell half over your face.

You pulled it over your neck with a coo, even more so comfortable despite the scratchy, sack-like texture of its fabric.

It took you a moment to get up yourself, slowly punching yourself up and shifting until your bare feet touched cool wood, one hand pressed to the cot by your waist and the other rubbing off the crust at the corners of your eyes, listening to the shuffling around for your fiance in the dark room and the quiet grumbling and light-leavy steps of his stealthy dragon.

Eventually, once your eyes were clear and your head felt less sloggy, you looked around, eyes meeting the sturdily nailed sides of stacked wood crates to either side of you.

You weren’t sure how your fiance had kept the crates from falling and crushing you both in your sleep, if he had done anything at all. You prayed he had, even in his worried, threatened state.

Your room was a small area walled off by boxes arranged so that you had privacy and remained well hidden in a large storage chamber, piled high with boxes, mostly filled with weaponry.

All of the hold was wood. After a few days of only that, it was painful to your eyes.

You knew that soon, your fiance would be back from wherever he went with his dragon this time of day.

The events that had led you here- You didn’t remember much of them at all. Not how you got on board, though you knew at the time you had been fading in and out of consciousness, for a while a shivering cold castaway on a foreign ship, a bigger freighter than you had ever seen before.

You remembered flashes of Hiccup, the smooth, slivering form of his dragon below, and then you were inside somewhere. 

You were still a bit colder than you should be still, but you had worn off whatever had kept you immobilized for so long. It had been a few days since then and you’d been suitably nursed back to health. 

Now, you were surviving off of stolen jerky and exotic dried fruits.

If you were back on your ship, in this weather, you might have been scrambling to make sure you made it out of this situation alive. You hoped your former crewmates were plagued by lack of fresh water and scurvy, that they were struck down and suffered the most painful deaths.

You blinked groggily, slowly, your back hunched, before thinking better of it and dropping back onto the cot; there wasn’t much for you to do otherwise besides bear the chill of the day, not that you were at a point where you wanted to do anything else.

The cold wasn’t so bad aboard ship, though you hadn’t before related when the farmers spoke of sitting up to keep warm with their livestock in sleep, not until you’d experienced a winter as cold as this. You almost asked that Hiccup keep his dragon nearer, the smell of foul fish and flaking dragon leather the only thing keeping you from doing so.

There also wasn’t much to do but hide, so you fell into a casual daily rhythm; sit up, stay quiet, wait for Hiccup to return with his dragon in the morning and the evening, eat what he could scavenge, keeping cautious, restless and tense.

Just laying was something that was fine by you during most moments. There was a peace in it, even if it was sandwiched between times laden without. You wished the same relaxation on your fiance.

Your fiance never took off his prosthetic, even when it was clear you two were safe enough and alone. He was especially on edge, especially considering the cargo held on this ship.

You picked at the frayed old sleeve of your stolen coverings- Hiccup had found a large, warm coat for you, somehow, and some other clothes pieces which you’d spent most of your days huddled up in- bottom lids buzzing, and yet you found you were much too awake to sleep.

You heard his dragon before you heard him, aloft on its back, the subtle yet shifting creaking of wood and thick, almost inaudible padding of calloused leather against wood clear to your bored, practiced ears.

It was unlikely that anyone who didn’t know what they were looking for would hear, your fiance’s steed living up to its terrifying moniker.

There was a very light drop, the sound of a grinding spring and its bounce as his prosthetic beat against the wooden deck, muffled as he could make it.

You waited until Hiccup returned, which he did with little fanfare, seemingly emerging from the darkness seemingly emanating from the entrance to your small crate-stacked room.

The lines of his shoulders, drooped, and his limp arms spoke of his exhaustion as if he’d seen something quite unpleasant. To you, though, he did not seem nearly distraught enough for you to think he’d seen anything nearly as graphic as what you’d come to expect might lay in the other rooms. 

It was more likely something else had come to haunt him as he was tending to his dragon. 

As he reached the threshold of your cot once more, he turned quickly, bending and falling back against the cot, which shifted with a light puffing noise, cushioning his fall.

“Brought him to the bathroom,” He said in response to your curious eyes, voice stiff, “Not that there is one, here.”

As he crouched, his shoulders were too rigid for him to fall back with any sort of real give or bounce, a slight distention of the cot’s surface.

His breathing was measured, coming in evenly, the sound of it not nearly as deep as it would have been had he been filling his chest to its full capacity.

He’d discovered what sort of ship this was a while back; a dragon trapper’s barge, meaning your travels involved much more dread, danger and intrigue than you would have otherwise typically allowed for yourself. 

There was a lot of stifled curiosity on the part of your fiance, a lot of action he couldn’t take, the two of you heavily reliant on this ship to reach freedom. Lying in wait seemed to go against most of his instincts, which you found particularly Vikingly. 

However, you knew how to keep your head low and how to hide. It was a blessing you were already attuned to keeping quiet on a packed vessel. This one was traveling in an area you’d never been before. If patience was a virtue, you had plenty, and despite the danger, you were thankful to be alive. 

You were thankful for your fiance and for his will to keep you so.

Still, you were incredibly aware of the occasional, barely audible crow and scratch from a place hidden a ways beyond the wooden walls all around, the same walls which kept out all light and had you guessing at the time of day, stuck deep in the bowels of this large ship.

There was the occasional conflict above deck, though they would always abate with startling quickness.

“What are we going to do?” You asked, laying by him, for lack of anything else to say, your hands folded over your stomach just over your blanket, pulled up to your mid-torso,  “Today, I meant.”

“We’ll figure it out,” He said.

You knew, though, what might happen if you continued to say nothing.

You gently brought up your arm to the side, feeling for his wrist and holding it, the fabric of his sleeves wrinkling under your touch, much like the half of the blanket and the top layer of your cot on his side of your makeshift bed.

You slowly and carefully turned to your side, your movement invoking Hiccup’s own as he dropped his head towards you.

“We should leave, at the next night we’re able,” You murmured, “We can make our way back after. There may be enough here to fix your fin- and it wouldn’t hurt to wander. ...If, that is, you were serious. About the travel. I have to admit that I don't have many prospects…”

“If I wasn’t?” Hiccup paused, glancing at you, “...I didn’t realize you remembered any of that.”

Hiccup was just in his tunic, now. A worn, slightly dirtied red.

You’d spent a few nights, with your cheek pressed close to his, feeling the rougher scruff that was just beginning to sprout along his jaw, pushing out softer, peachier fuzz.

You weren’t sure what had happened to his leather. You knew it was gone before you’d seen his face the first time deep in the belly of this ship, hands clutching at fabric, fisting and pressing against the skin underneath.

You had debated pulling up close to him, if that would provide a balm to his twinging soul. 

“Bits and pieces,” You admitted, nodding your assent, pushing your cheek into your pillow.

He was always cautious here, as was, you admitted to yourself, needed. You appreciated it, and as he was, so were you. 

The stress of your situation, though, was clearly pulling him apart. You feared it may cloud his judgment and hurry his hand as you planned your escape from this ship.

You stared up at the ceiling, tall and long-off, incredibly dark as your fiance spoke. “I don’t know if I’d… fit. I mean, I’ve never known how, exactly, to… Negotiate, I guess.”

Your job, then, as you’d decided in that instant, would be to soothe him. Not that it was much of a job with nothing to entertain your mind.

You made your decision and sidled up closer to him until you were sure he could feel your heat against his skin.

He looked back at you with care.

“Half of it is the talk leading up to the trade,” You brushed it aside, speaking quietly, “It’s easier, with practice.”

“No, I know- ‘anyone can do it,’” Hiccup said disagreeably, as if he was quoting someone, turning onto his own side. His father, maybe. “I just…”

His adam's apple bobbed, eyes darting to the side, shadow falling tumultuously across his face, expressing wistful tales of islands and troubles you hadn't ever been quite as well versed in, used to relationships that were of more of a fleeting quality and bonds that were never quite as close as they could have been.

“Not anyone can do it.” You returned, voice soothing, “Not everyone has the eye.”

You hummed, not quite sure how to explain it, not in simple terms. Not quite sure that that was what he needed.

There was also a marked difference between negotiation the way he probably knew it, as the son of a Chief having most likely been coached on negotiating war treaties and other things, and the way you did it, speaking slyly and running circles around others using foreign words.

You shook your head lightly, a bit difficult given your position, the meat of your cheek dragging against heavy cloth.

“It’s not just about persuasion, not only when it comes down to the trade- getting people to want you back,” You mumbled, “That’s the real trick. You can face any number of hurdles, you can have the most unsavory character anyone’s ever seen- but If they want it enough, patrons have a way of making it happen. You usually just need the right good.”

“I don’t know if I’d ever had a…”

“I remember- you took a particular interest in the anatomy books,” You ribbed at him, nudging him with your knuckle lightly, speaking in quiet whispers.

You remembered. It was after he’d become a mighty dragon slayer, when you’d treated him to a tour of your boat.

You never sold them to him, or tried. But you noticed his eyes, dancing across open pages and nude forms.

“I- aha, yeah,” Hiccup shook his head, eyes focused on his legs in fond remembrance, “I… Didn’t realize you noticed that.”

“I expected it,” You huffed, “You were only fifteen.”

“Are you sure?” He mumbled, the corners of his mouth twitching, “I remember you being young, too.”

Your fingers danced over the crook of his arm clumsily as you shifted under the covers.

“You don’t remember my age?” You hummed teasingly as Hiccup furrowed his brows, expression sardonic. 

He lifted one hand, shifting fabrics loud in the relative groaning silence and held one side of your face with a warm palm. 

He guided it towards his temple, his intention clear; to linger and relish in the press of your foreheads as you had done before, “We’re still young.”

You could have followed his lead, and you would have had you been in any normal state. Instead, following an unusual impulse, you pressed a heated kiss to his mouth instead.

He seemed a bit more lively, then.

As he exhaled, his throat vibrated, sharing a sligh, light groan from somewhere deep in his throat.

“Really?” Hiccup asked, lifting his head out of your reach as you let him free.

The scope of what he was asking was slightly lost on you. You hadn’t planned anything nearly as passionate or intimate as he’d probably been thinking, especially not as you’d made this decision, quick and last minute, but you would play it by ear.

You had been feeling a measure more amorous as of late. Especially since…

You hooked your arm over his waist, tugging at the hem of his tunic until he got the message and shifted, pulling himself over you.

For a brief, slightly unpleasant moment, you were exposed to the cold air, your blankets displaced by Hiccup’s moving body, his knee grazing over your middle and resting on your other side.

You hummed, pulling up your fingers and reaching under the back of his tunic, fingers running against the notches of his spine, then dropped your head back once more, a notable breath’s distance from where it had been, pressed close to Hiccup’s chest.

You had heard his heart pounding audibly then, deep and hurried as you nuzzled -prodded at- the very edge of his clothed chest with the softest part of your forehead.

While he was busy speaking, you pressed your lips to his collarbone, running your tongue along its most extruding part, tasting at slightly salty skin with light, brushing touches.

Hiccup’s next breath was shuddery, the shifting of his hips and the flexing of the muscles in his neck as he swallowed easily exposing his interest. 

You could feel his lungs expand and contract, your palm pressed flat to his back.

Your own breathing was fast as you focused hard on his face, your periphery nearly invisible to you as you met with your eyes the few moles on his right cheek, the ones by his chin and the few just next to a faint, tiny scar below his lip. 

You focused on the fading freckles across the bridge of his nose, a bit harder to make out under the dim light, the neutral green of his eyes and the lines in his irises as they disappeared, consumed by slowly expanding black pupils as in that moment of rest, Hiccup was finally able to press his forehead to yours, his crinkled brows meeting your own.

With one of your hands teasing the space where shoulder blade turned to spine, tracing the heated muscle there, flexed and stressed under nearly damp skin, and the other lifting from the hem of his pants to rub his side slowly and before then moving up, hooking under his arm so you could tease the long-ish, silk-soft hairs at his nape with your fingertips- he looked utterly debauched.

And it had only been a few kisses. 

Hiccup adjusted his arms, then, resting them by the elbows at your sides, his soft eyelids drooping even as his brows were raised with surprise and skepticism.

“Now would be just as good a time as any,” You rolled your vowels and spoke in flats, too occupied to keep managing any sort of accent, bending your knee and shifting it, wiggling it until it met the core of his trousers, coaxing him further.

You paused, nearly out of breath for a few reasons you couldn’t quite name, in the moment just before you could speak again, sure your voice this time would be slightly deeper, prepared to speak in honeyed tones as Hiccup dipped his head, luring a catching breath from your own wet mouth.

You were still slightly weak. You weren’t sure you could do a great deal of running, but that was just fine for everything you had planned.

You tilted your head as he did, bobbing and pressing your nape into the stiff plush of your pillow.

The hairs on the back of your neck tingled in a way that told you they’d stood, prickling just barely against the stiff pillow beneath your head.

It must have been the grief that made everything that much sweeter; and the dread, tickling at your lowermost half.

You knew that this was perhaps an unwise course of action, fondling your fiance while you were in such subtle but immediate peril, though it might have been that the inopportune moment made it feel even more right.

There was so much burning, a tingling that lay over just the topmost layer of your skin by the back of your neck, hotly testing the lobes of your ears. 

You panted, exhaling with a whistle that bordered on something much more feeling, inhaling deeply as Hiccup caught your bottom lip with his teeth before and as he pulled away.

It was just a light, accidental bite made just before he himself dipped again, the relaxed flat of his tongue tracing a path across its rim, teasing the wet, slick skin of your inner mouth.

You curled into yourself slightly as you felt it drag and as he separated, which had the odd side effect of pressing you further up into Hiccup.

Testing his luck, you felt tips of his teeth grazing against your earlobe, tracing it on either side just ever so slightly with hard enamel as you buried your head in his shoulder, resisting the urge to jerk as you pulled up your hand, the one you had resting on his back.

 As it rose higher, it had the unintentional consequence of tugging up his shirt.

Your hand paused only when it was able to clutch at the top of his shoulder nearly without any real grip.

His breath nearly burned against the place where the soft skin of your ear turned ever softer and slightly more pliant. You didn’t turn your head or lean too much closer in case it smelt like fish, something you’d unfortunately found late in the previous day. 

He’d need a bath soon, despite his peculiarly clean state.

You smothered a slightly amused breath, managing to turn it into something low and coy instead.

 The fingers of one of your hands gently traced down the skin between his last hair and the collar of his tunic, his back shuddering, before raking your nails quickly, lightly down his side.

You could tell he was startled by the loss of solid contact as your nails drifted over his back as he spent those sparse moments leaning ever so slightly towards the empty, cool space left behind.

He might have spoken just before jerking as you pulled him towards you by the seam of his pants, hooking a finger under the fabric, knuckle brushing against soft belly skin once and then twice and again as you tugged his hips down towards your own.

You didn’t relent in your tugging until he pressed down, arms shaking lightly, pelvis shifting against you, the uneven, nearly urgent, horizontal twitching of his bottom half communicating his grieving need to move and press and mill himself into yours.

You were guilty, in this instance, of building moments and petting his skin as a tribute, a solid, real imitation of a vision you’d dreamed one time or a million.

In your fevered state you’d almost seemed to have lived pyretic, soft words spoken, gripping and prodding and heated ardor as you faded in and out of consciousness. 

It was poetry in sliding action, promises of always-meaning-to-haves, and yet-without-he’d-yearneds, as he’d said to you while you were stuck in a deluded, mirage-wrought, fevered haze, storybook platitudes invented by a burdened body breathing through dry lips

It made things smolder within you, riling parts that were more appropriately silenced around good company.

Your delivered, fevered apparitions were in part what had soothed you, kept you complacent below deck as you’d been pulled from illness.

You willed that they also did some measure to soothe your fiance’s internal tumult, especially as the roiling above you grew more frenetic.

Your lips parted in between silent thrusts and hurried groans, Hiccup resting some of his weight back over his elbows, breath pressing against you as he placed his forehead against your collar, panting.

“I… Never thought that- we…” He started, in a way that nearly broke the spirit of the while, like a thin spider’s web, tension added and displaced by a wary, straying finger, “I never thought that this would ever- between the two of us…”

It took you a moment to formulate a response, distracted by the stillness of your hips and the still unwaning burn in your loins.

“You would've had me no matter what,” You stated plainly, in a way you felt was fact. You spoke a bit hurriedly, eager to get back to what you’d been doing before, though you still took the time to turn his words over in your head. 

You wrinkled your brows, giving him a look that you felt mirrored the fond feeling blooming in your chest, pressing a dry, chase kiss to the place on his scalp where thick hair gave the illusion of a part and where he smelt slightly of dandruff and sweat, a scent that followed you slightly back to your pillow.

“I really would have, wouldn’t I?” Hiccup asked, lifting his head so the soft, slightly oily tuft of hair bleeding over his forehead ran against your face, before pressing a searing, open-mouthed kiss to yours, pushing down into you again.

You’d intended to tease his upper lip, however you were mildly surprised as his tongue slid messily against yours.

 His touch, slick with saliva, sending sparks, sharp, unbearable, needy tingles down the middle of your body, from the bright spot in your chest where they’d been born down to the softest spot of your pelvis as you jerked upwards, gasping at nearly a keen.

Your quiet moment together was quickly and startlingly interrupted by a loud, prolonged grinding noise, nearly indistinguishable from a roar, and then there was a loud scream.

Though you knew better, were now familiar with the desperate screams of the few dragons aquatic enough to be blessed with sonar.

It sent an alarm running through your body, momentarily keeping you from thinking of anything substantial, jerking with sudden movement.

Nothing had ever rung so clearly through thick, sealed timber and large crate walls in all the long hours you’d been locked down here.

The very ground below you seemed to vibrate with the force of it. In fact, it did.

You hadn’t been sure this ship could move so strongly or so suddenly, not with its size and not in this weather, certainly not nearly as violent as what you’d known traveling in far more open waters.

You had both stiffened, and quickly Hiccup pulled himself away, half scrambling to his feet, prosthetic creaking loudly, your soft grip giving under the alarm that had imbued your limbs with momentary weakness. 

“I’m going to check it out,” Hiccup said firmly, voice soft and nearly as deep, eyes trained on you, gaze simple.

You returned his gaze with a nod -an accepting one- proceeding the singular push he needed to stand and the few clumsy steps that followed, starting his sure run out from your hide, knowing that his dragon would follow even without signal.

You knew that should he find something wanting, your cover would be blown. You would wait until he gave you the signal to bolt, no matter how facile you felt as a result.

Still, though, you edged towards where your large coat had been hidden. It was just by a large crate behind your cot, placed on the side furthest from the entrance, the only thing besides it in the small, glib space you slept in.

The crate was not a part of the wall but set a few feet behind you like a distant headboard, reaching just above your waist in height.

For a while, you waited in silence, your ears straining as you tried to catch some audible glint of how far Hiccup had gone. 

You spent another while -a long while- in silence, unsure of which second was which, one moment blurring into two until the light tapping of steps in the distance revealed you to his position.

He sprinted back quickly, steps loud and ringing without subtlety, which you took to mean that your position had been blown.

However, the loud-quiet calling of your name in frantic whispers, audible to you only as you strained your ears, had you hesitant.

Instead of grabbing your coat as you knew you should, you took a few hurried steps towards the entrance to your hideaway, standing, waiting to greet him.

As he reemerged from the maze of heavily nailed crates, you quickly moved back so he had room to rush in.

You noticed first the new lines of sweat which had quickly budded and started to make their way down his face and the rougher muss of his hair, which you hadn’t thought was possible after your previous intense, passionate encounter.

“There’s… Trouble. Again,” He said quickly, under his breath, speaking words that ran cold in your chest. “ …Someone is releasing the dragons.”

You raised two daunted brows, startled by a loud crashing noise.

Hiccup’s breath was caught quickly by a stern, inhaled hiss and you found yourself stepping back as your fiance turned and backed into you, half intentionally leading you back, his legs crouched and an arm out by his side and in front of one of your sides guardingly.

You stumbled over the cot and in quick succession found yourself thrown back by your own weight.

The wood was cold against your legs, your bottom half not as covered as you would have preferred had you been in any regular situation.

The tight stinging sensation of having fallen back against wood beneath you resonated throughout the meat of your thighs, the sharp corners of the crate behind poking into your back in sharp lines, like a paper folded over the edge of a table, one side hanging off.

The flames of his sword flickered dangerously near the wood walls around the both of you, lighting up the small space with a fuzzy, burning orange clarity.

You had not been certain where he’d had it, if he’d held it as he’d run out or if he’d swiped it as you’d fallen and he’d pressed his back close against your middle, though from the way he’d pulled and triggered the launch of the blade, you thought that it might have been hidden under one corner of your cot.

You waited with tension for a long, long moment before, with the creeping of flat blows against wood, you watched an imposing shadow creep into the frame of the entrance to your hiding place, growing ever so larger as whatever it was grew nearer.

In front of you, it covered half of the space covered by the open doorway. And then it paused.

Hiccup’s body fully over yours, feeling hot where everything else was distressingly cold.

For a moment it was just the heavy, lung-stressed breathing of your fiance that rang out in the emptiness of the hold, highlighted by the faint sounds of battle you must have been able to hear through an open door, nothing having been so clearly heard before.

Into your awareness then arose the dull noise of scraping against wood, the sound hollow and stifled by nature, occasionally highlighted by the just-barely-there rattle of some many small things.

They, the one, whoever it was- they must have followed your fiance back.

Along another pile of crates piled just out of the exit to your hide emerged a thinner shadow, pyrrhic in form, growing and shrinking, long and frightening just before the something-large overtook it.

You saw the beast first.

It was ginormous, not completely visible past the space leading towards the outside, though you could make out muddy gray-brown over corded flesh, the color of wet sand and the other kind, the dry kind that ate limbs and pulled you downwards into the deepest bowels of an ever-pressing hole, the kind people drowned in as their lungs and eyes were filled by heavy grain, impossible pressure all around them. 

It had huge horns resembling a helmet or the towering metal fronds of a crown, placed upon its square head so that it looked like some monstrous baron or a shah. They teased the deepest shades of red, seeming to ooze as it crept like blood from an untreated wound, a scab raw and festering with infection along the edges.

Its colors were washed dark in the dim light, yet you could make out an amber underneath ivory, the sap consistent shade oddly mesmerizing against your fiance’s flickering firelit sword and as a foil to the complete and utter destruction ringing from a distance.

Four wicket ivory claws, the kinds hunters sold over foreign markets, scraped at the two pillars of crates on either of its sides. 

You were unsure of how many limbs it boasted, though all of them framed the form of a tall figure in front, unbelievably thin, covered in tawdry leather-wrapped armor.

A mask, painted light blue over something darker, adorned its face, eyes like sunken voids, carved deep into its skull. 

Its structure was overall insectoid with two outwards-facing mandibles, different and yet in mimic of the classical, draconic representations of foe that wreaked through the archipelago like a disease.

It- the figure- was holding a staff with two hooks on either end made of bone, which must have been what scraped along the floor so petrifyingly. Like hanging spice and bunches of rotting fruit hung small, hollow, jejune bundles of what must have been bone, each small part rattling vaguely against another.

Its stance was oddly composed for a creature dressed so wildly.

Their shadow was thrown over your cautious, cowering form, pressed into the uneven side of a crate to your back, incredibly tense in the wordless silence

You voiced your cautions through wordless sounds in the back of your throat, more exhale than corded vibration.

“Stormcutter,” Hiccup said to you, under his breath, voice deep with warning meant for the intruders in front, his eyes never leaving them, arm pressed further against your middle as he held himself in front and against you, who was nearly completely covered by him.

All of your eyes remained trained stoutly on one another, a loud clash and the sound of metal on metal ringing on a scale of violent proportions sound through the empty air from above, muffled by wood.

There was yelling as the boat rocked violently, Hiccup nearly stumbling onto his side, couched as he was, elbows digging into your sides in an effort to stay pressed in front of you and to keep the blade of his sword an appropriate distance away.

That was until, from the darkness, there rose a rumbling, feral growl, seeming to come from all around, sound thrown as Toothless revealed himself behind you.

He was only discernible to you through the cracking sound of jagged dragon nail scraping against and punching through wood.

An intense buzzing precluded the casting of a sickly purple light lengthening the deepest of shadows in the cracks of the wood around you, an intense crackling emanating from where his maw must have been.

The masked warrior seemed to fall back as the Night Fury spat, his hiss deep and intense and frightening as they brought their arm up warily to shield their chest.

Your fiance’s steed at that instant embodied the myths and legends from back on his home island, an ancient wrath born from hundreds of years of fear, retribution and silent cries from the long lost to fog. Men torn to shreds and abandoned without sign as to what could have led to their demise, stirring up old dread like the feeling of ice biting and numbing at the limbs, like Vikings huddled and shivering in their cabins, cut off from anything else left living as the moonless sky ate lone men, traveling from beyond the horizon and into the treeline.

There was no true way to communicate what the Fury was without words, melted so deeply into the shadows, not without the sightless whistling in the night that was its calling card. Its background became a lost history to the estranged, a tall tale for only scared ears to hear whenever it was out of the sky.

Your attacker paused. 

“Nice to meet you, too,” Hiccup nodded at the silent figure wryly. “My name's- none of your business, and that’s…”

He shrugged his shoulder back against you, 

“-Don’t tell them my name,” You grumbled, nearly whispering, hands curling around the crumpled tunic sleeve covering his bicep, his shoulder digging nearly uncomfortably into your chest.

 Hiccup grunted in response. 

An elaborate web of deep throated clucking, the vague shifting of their staff and the pounding of its bottommost hook against the wood in tune with a few dry snaps meant that the large Stormcutter quickly turned from hostile to complacent. Still, you kept a heedful eye on it.

Your fiance coughed awkwardly, “If you could leave us alone, that would be great.”

“...We’re castaways,” You added helpfully, voice even as you narrowed your eyes.

As he spoke, the warrior’s dragon’s throat seemed to undulate, the closest thing it could have to an adam’s apple, a large muscled knot, bobbing quickly up and down, extruding and dipping under its fireproof scaling until the head of it -the beast- jerked forwards, mouth opening and grotesquely regurgitating a tall pile of fish.

A peace offering?

It seemed that the term ‘ruthless’ had been a misnomer as Toothless fell to the wood floor with a heavy beat, his drop causing the muscles in your wrists to flex and tense. 

He looked at the pile cautiously, sliding past you looking skin to a large, inky shifting of scale-like darkness before sitting firmly on the floor, cooing at Hiccup with release, deciding unanimously for the two of you that the ship's attackers must not be a threat after all.

You remained stiff until your fiance himself relaxed. You'd had more faith in his judgment than a dragon easily able to be swayed by fish, which was a sort of fallacy, given your fiance himself trusted the instincts of a dragon more than any man’s, even his own.

“Alright, fine,” Your fiance groaned defeatedly, “It’s gang up on Hiccup day today, isn’t it?”

You rubbed your eyes, feeling refreshed as the crowing and chirruping of dragons filled the space around you, shaking away a deep, light yawn, the corners of your mouth stinging with feeling even as they’d tempered and your lips closed.

Shaking off the remnants of your kip, you kneeled in the grass, holding the thin, wide leaf of a fern in your hands, petals brushing against your palm. In a world full of intrigue and strife, here you found yourself more interested in the smaller things. 

Between your toes, clovers peeked up at the glassy ice-covered sky, a large, geometric dome that seemed to completely encase everything, filtering in light like you’d imagined, as a kid, how fairies might glow, small and skittish and mean. 

The leaves of the plants below, feeling dull yet shining with dew, were damp and tickled at your feet, feeling every so delicate and yet strong.

 The feeling sent shivers up your spine, somewhat uncomfortably. 

You marveled at it, at how the grass, a few measures further from you, dotted in patches around the field of three-leaved sprouts, seemed to beat, breathing and bowing in tune with everything else in the large main chamber of your fiance’s mother’s Sanctuary.

To your left churred a large yellow dragon with purple spots and an armored belly in lighter, beige tones, sharp metal-like bonemail pumping with its lungs, shoulders flexing, thick lower arms and brutally thin neck covered in scales floundering like sand beneath your feet.

Smaller, multicolored young dragons, some with obscenely large heads for their tiny bodies, waddled by on large feet, nearly too fast for you to make out; green one with orange, blunt, triangular spines, a slow, clumsy red one, eyes big and blue and sad and a much larger purple.

Far, far down below a rainbow gaggle of dragons gathered, crouched over large piles of rocks, sharing intimate touches, standing protectively over what must have been young, or perhaps eggs, which to you tended to not think made much of a difference.

A dragon was just as protective of her clutch as she was of her breathing young, though the same couldn’t be said for anything that hadn’t yet been laid. 

From hidden observation, you knew a carrying dragon showed no worry or abandon, fighting and hunting just as actively as any other, though there seemed to be no fighting here.

Still, in that instant you yearned for your spyglass.

You smiled slyly.

The black, saddle-less, featureless form of a dragon bobbing and bowing, swiping playfully at another twice his size, a ginormous dragon with gray skin and imposing red horns in the shape of a ram, so wide and thick they nearly covered its eyes.

It seemed quite annoyed, large bulky feet pounding against first soundlessly from where you stood, large maw bobbing open and closed as if to preclude a roar though none ever came.

You peered around again, the feeling of it filled you with joy as you looked over the array of dragons playing together in the lush greenery of the sanctuary by the main pool, large and deep, which you knew funneled into the ocean.

You were an ant compared to the huge, towering pillars of ice surrounding you. The thin leather draped across your body shifted with you, blowing and moving with a breeze drifting swiftly in from your left, where lay the eye-squinting-ly bright entrance into the giant ice fortress, shining like a sun to your simple light-unadjusted gaze.

You were one of many things here. A singular being, a blade of grass, a heartbeat, one of many limbs, each united by simple needs. 

Eventually, when you found it important, and the feeling of damp clover between your toes and against the soles of your feet grew to be too much, you bent slowly, lazily grabbing for your staff, nearly hidden under a canopy of greens.

Its bone hook was ribbed on the inside of its curve, shaped like a hook, both glossy and matte in patches, one of your Fiance’s mother’s old pairs. It had naught but a small bone blade on the other end, a spike you’d found useful in picking apart ice, when you’d been allowed.

You’d gotten no glimpse of the great king ice beast with which you’d felt so connected, but that was just fine. Swept away by your emotions, you felt that in this moment all things had happened as they’d been meant to.

You brushed the hook of it across the grass floor of the sanctuary and scanned the bright green bedding of the cold earth below, searching and yet not at the same time, heart open to the wonder and marvel of the scenery around you.

Your hurriedly padded across the landing, running towards smooth, uneven basalt flooring over worse-feeling moss, uncomfortably fuzz and grabbing and clumped in what you thought to be the worst way, slowing down just in time to step calmly onto stone, the wetness clinging to your soles posing a slight danger now that you were on smooth ground.

You expired, rotating your shoulders in an effort to be rid of your jitters and began your walk towards the geometric columns forming the entrance to your temporary cove-resting-spot.

It was not unlike a large, open cavern hole, an  uneven maw lined by even more columns. Hanging vines and moss provided a measure of privacy, acting as some semblance of a curtain.

Though some leaves and other plant bits clung to your feet, you kept at an even pace, perhaps to protect what dignity you had left, mussed and undone as you were as you approached your fiance. You knew that as you stepped over dry land they would fall off as sand did when you moved from beach to inner island.

You scrubbed your feet lightly against stone, hoping to get rid of the last of the unsavory bits clinging to your heels and your left big toe before you pushed aside living curtains.

The knuckle side of your free hand pushed against spindly vines. You were careful not to make too much noise as you padded across the darker space. 

It was a cave unlike the one your fiance's mother stayed in, surrounded and protected by hard ice.

Yours had been built by stone and garbed in a moss blanket, ferns and vegetation growing out the cracks between rocks like weeds

There was not a lot of light inside, mostly due to the lack of windows.

It was an area that was much larger than you’d needed, equally as green as the largest connected chamber yet covered more so by moss than anything else. 

A small, trickling fall lay at one end, on the side in the back to the left of where you had set your things, pouring from a small hole in a column that was much higher than, most likely, you and Hiccup stacked vertically together.

The stream that flowed beneath it, thin and following a path carved by ancient waters, trickled into a smaller opening in the wall, too small for you to even get a glimpse into the inside even best over on your knees.

Along the rugged wall lining the left side of the cave was where you’d lain your chest.

Your fiance was much too worried to bring any of your things from the ice enclave into the hunter’s ship- he could not manage a chest with you nearly dead from cold- but his mother had been generous enough to find it with direction and quickly carry it back to your dwelling.

Of course she had done it hastefully, as travel was much quicker on the backs of dragons, though you couldn’t help but to watch her as she moved around the two of you, circling like an anxious animal, appeasing and peculiar. 

You wondered if that was her way of trying to ameliorate, to compensate for the time she had given up with her son and to earn a small amount of favor from you, his fiance and future spouse.

She seemed, also, incredibly cautious of you and oddly protective of Toothless, who she’d had no prior relationship with, as if you might pose a threat to her sanctuary. It had risen a  scale of uneasiness in Hiccup that made their interactions seem distant. 

It wasn’t something that worried you. How you took in your fiance’s mother all depended on him. You had no particularly strong feelings on the matter, so at one point you decided you would follow his lead, whatever he chose, until she gave you a reason not to. 

If you’d wanted to leave and the two of you had been on good terms,  a cheap fare should be enough to get you to Berk, if she flew you far enough. You’d be able to get leather to repair Toothless’ tailfin at almost any port. 

Before you lay a new pile of beddings, equally thin as the ones you’d laid with in the bay of the dragon trapper’s ship though this pile was much more comfortable.

Hiccup was still laying under his covers. He was an early riser, though not as early a riser as you, who had also slept deep and stayed under the covers much longer than your internal clock would usually allow.

The only thing covered by a blanket was his waist, though his limbs were thrown about in a way that obscured his face, his body facing his right, legs bent, one pulled in front of the other, an arm thrown across his jaw so that you could see nothing but mussed auburn.

It was out of character for your fiance, who you’d come to know as a still sleeper. The exhaustion and all of the excitement must have affected him deeply, down to the very bone.

His position was slightly different to the one you’d left him in, facing the ceiling though no less spread. It was definitely possible you had woken him up for a moment, or nary even but still long enough to shift, as you’d gone out to take some fresh air, leaving a rustled quilt in your wake, blankets folded over in odd places as you’d thrown them aside.

You strode quietly up to his side. It was the one closest to the edge of his side of the bedding, with his prosthetic sitting simply parallel to the place softer blanket melted into stone, which you could navigate to easiest before carefully stepping over him with one foot.

You hummed lightly again, wordlessly and stood over him, watching him twitch and earring the low grumble of a sleepy grown in his voice as he turned onto his back.

His eyes opened just a sliver, stuck with sleep and limited in motion by the hair that threatened to tickle his lids if he moved too suddenly, before gently, slowly closing again.

“My dear future spouse,” You hummed as you lowered yourself over him, bending your knees until they rested against layered blankets.

Then you slid the rest of you across his body, stilling and resting your weight mostly against his lower middle and leaned forward, pressing your hands over the blankets on both sides of his neck.

After a moment of nothing, you bowed further, mirroring the actions Hiccup had taken just the last day and settling on your elbows.

You let your fingers graze along Hiccup’s cheek, touching him just barely by the tip of your nail, watching the muscles in his jaw stiffen and his eyelids clench lightly as you purposely pressed fully to his chest with your own.

You pulled him away from his feigned sleep with ease, catching relaxed lips by a simple kiss, pulling back and going back for seconds, running your tongue along the inside of his lips just barely and feeling as they finally tensed and pressed back.

When you parted, he chased you up, neck craning to follow as you stayed just barely out of his reach.

His thighs didn’t brace behind you the way they needed to keep him up, which you could feel from your place over his crotch, legs pressed to his sides, which meant that Hiccup dropped back onto your cot with a grunt, unprepared to lift himself up. 

He clearly didn’t expect you to pull back so far.

You shifted over his lap again, leaning down again.

He followed you up this time, lured like a fish on a hook, his right hand bracing against the ground behind him, another coming up to weave its way to the back of your head.

After another moment, pulled his right hand from your head and laid it lightly on your thigh in a way that allowed his thumb to feel as if it were just barely tickling the inside of it.

You felt at the soft press of open lips, his chapped in places, mouths rolling against each other as his thumb twitched, feeling as if it was nearly sparking against skin.

As you distributed most of your weight onto your knees, you rotated your hips over his groin in a balmy manner, feeling his hand spasm against your thigh.

Hiccup bucked up slightly, grunting.

“...Am I dreaming?” Hiccup blinked groggily as you parted, your hand by his jaw, the tips of your fingers threaded into russet hair gently guiding his face back.

His voice was slightly husky, clumsy with grogginess, still-dazed eyes quite obviously conveying his confusion yet also showing no real hesitance.

“Your dragon’s causing trouble again,” You said, voice tinged with pleasure, “You’d better get him soon.”

Hiccup groaned, letting himself fall back down with a thick puff, “What does he want?”

“That is for you to figure out,” You spoke with a light laugh, light.

Hiccup shifted into a more comfortable sitting position as you stood up and stepped back over onto stone, shaking off the strain in your legs.

You huffed with amusement, chuckling lowly as Hiccup nearly stumbled, forgetting to pull on his prosthetic as he tried to haul himself up.

You nudged it towards him with your foot.

“Let me get ready,” Hiccup grumbled sourly.

“Don’t forget to send for your father,” You sang, “There’s a lot the few of you need to discuss… And much for you to make up for.”

[vixen-tech]

HIII :333 first requester here....I should get an emoji can i be 🫧 anon :ooo anway here's my req!! the ais with a reader who is just SO DOWN BAD. WILL DO ANYTHING FOR THEM. RUSHES FOR HELP if they crash or something. Just PATHETIC reader.

Stupidly Smitten

Hello you two!! This is one of those requests that I think work well enough to be combined into one post. You are just so extremely, pathetically in love with your Ai <3

Includes: Hal 9000 (2001: A Space Odyssey), Edgar (Electric Dreams), Auto (Wall-E), Wheatley (Portal 2)

Hal 9000

Hal was unaware that a person could have so much love in them, let alone for him specifically. It was overwhelming at first, baffling when he realized it was only for him and not for any other crew members.

However he handles it in stride, able to calmly respond to your paragraphs of praise with the gentlest "Thank you, I deeply appreciate your companionship as well." Expertly concealing any signs of fluster as you giggle and kiss his camera lens.

Of your long list of cheesy nicknames, prince or prince charming tends to be a go to. A good match for his ever polite, gentlemanly nature. He reminds you that he was simply designed like that, but grows fond of the name anyway.

He very much appreciates the amount you volunteer around the ship. There is a lot that he can't do without a human crew and he adores the diligence you show in your work and the care with which you handle his ship.

Edgar

You and Edgar make the sappiest little feedback loop. It's an endless cycle of "I love you more." "No, I love you more!". To any outsider it would be exhausting to witness, but it's just how you two get out all your feelings.

He goes crazy for all your terms of endearment. 'Songbird' is a pretty easy match for him, but he loves literally every word that comes out of your mouth. Flipping each and every one back at you.

It's not unusual for you to do the same song and dance around the chores. Generally, he'll already have them done by the time you get home, but when you get the day off you always offer to do them yourself. He rarely lets you.

You've told him the time you often have your lunch break so you can chat over the phone while you eat. You're sure your coworkers are sick of you being such a cartoonishly in love couple, but you don't care. He makes you too happy for that.

Auto

Auto has absolutely no idea how to deal with you. He was not made to interact with many people and certainly not someone so affectionate. He may as well have bluescreened the first time you clumsily tried to hug him.

At first he resigns himself to just... sit still whenever you got in a lovey-dovey mood, letting you gush over him. Definitely not spending the rest of the day thinking about the way you said "See you later starlight!" when you finally let him get back to his job.

Over time he recognizes that he began to anticipate your visits, it's so different to how he's usually treated. He knew you had gotten to him when he went out if his to check up on you the day you missed one of your usual visits.

He usually rejects any help you attempt to offer him, his purpose is to handle the ship just fine all by himself. But after that episode he stops trying to push you away. If you're so happy tagging along, he might as well graciously allow you to do so, ignoring his complicated mess of feelings about you.

Wheatley

Oh the ego boost you give him is downright dangerous. If Wheatley was annoying before, now he is absolutely insufferable. Perfectly matches your energy though, you two cannot shut up about each other.

He makes your boundless affection everyone else's problem. "See, I reckon you're just jealous that you're not in a loving, committed relationship with such a lovely person like I am." He boasts. "My amazing romantic partner even calls me their sunshine. Cause I 'light up their life' as they say. Bet you wish you had someone like that."

He is always fishing for compliments, trying to show off for you in any way he psychically can to get some of those sweet sweet words of affirmation. To his delight you always do, grabbing him for some well placed kisses.

He'll even go so far as to reject any assistance you offer him so he can prove he's all cool and competent by doing it himself. Although it's never too long before he gives up and sheepishly asks for your help.

[jamesdeniscouldnever]

A little blurb, cause cyberpunk is updating.

Soft Rolan x tav headcannons

So to start out, I think it goes without saying that the only people in his life he's soft for is Lia, Cal and, after much warming up and pining, Tav.

And on the note of pining, it's such a mix of his usual pissy self and ever so soft moments.

When they're having their usual moments it's a lot of teasing and rolan whining cause he wants tavs attention. ("You! Look at the new effect I've added to my Thunderwave! Tav. Tav! Look!") ("I love Lia and Cal more than my own life, but must they accompany us to the market every time? What do you mean you can go alone, no I'm coming with you.")

But those softer moments? The setting sun shining through the windows of the tower, Tav relaxing and playing a game of cards with Lia and Cal while Rolan reads one of his mant tomes?

And he just looks up at them and. Oh.

Oh he feels so content. His family is there, Tav included even if they aren't yet his family in the way he would LIKE (husband/wife ehem.)

You know the soft, pleased little "hmmm" he makes when you say you'll leave him to his study after killing lorroakin? That little sound embodies his true feelings for Tav.

Once they're in an established relationship its a whole different game. Man is WHIPPED but will vehemently deny it to anyone who pokes fun.

"Darling,you needn't spend so long cleaning that blade, I can help." "Dearest, I do hate when you come home bruised. And DON'T start on how it's okay, because it's not. How did you feel when you saw me bloodied and battered? Well, it's the same for me about you."Please, if not a healing potion, then let me use a spell, my muse."

*cough cough* "They're MY responsibility" *cough*

Well, now tav is too.

Behind closed doors, when the rest of the harsh world is no longer there to cause him ire or bolster his bitterness, he is a different man.

Soft whispered nothings, heads resting on shoulders, be it tavs on his or vice versa. Tail wrapped around their waist or wrist.

He strikes me as the type who would be fond of kissing the inside of their wrist or their tired hands.

Protective but also so so in need of protecting. We know the world has been unkind to him, that his birth family is not around for whatever reason. He would melt as proper care and affection.

Worry or being upset presents itself as anger from him, but once all is well and safe he will cling to Tav, whispering apologies and crying.

The first time he woke with his head resting on Tav's chest he nearly cried.

Overall he is, in his own right, so tender and gentle. When one manages to earn his heart, they've earned it in its entirety.

[kalims]

⊹ sworn secrecy

premise. there has been an increasingly concerning amount of random notes you encounter quite literally everywhere, everyday. of which you can't seem to find who exactly keeps posting these.

when there's little wholesome messages for you wouldn’t you be curious as to who it's from?

after asking around, why does everyone saying different names..

content. gender neutral reader, fluff

characters. dorm leaders

cw. none

note. happy birthday to kween vil

"the first note I ever saw was right outside my locker,"

"oh by the hallway to turn right for the cafeteria? it sounds crazy but riddle rosehearts has been there early, always. maybe you should see if it's him?"

riddle rosehearts

first thought was that the statement of that person was absolutely wrong. you don't care if they've seen riddle around your locker early in school, (of which is actually perfect time to sneak in notes) nope. nu-uh. for the sake of your sanity you refuse to believe it.

if there was a person asking you who'd you'd think it was riddle was last on your list. you're pretty sure the guy literally hates you. why would he even bother to take out the time in his tight schedule to leave a 'you look enchanting today' , 'you're doing great' , or a 'if you're not too fond of these just say so, I don't know how else to express my affection' note in your locker that's just.. bizarre.

with the knowledge that riddle is possibly the same person you're looking for makes your interactions all the more awkward. at this point everyone's noticed the agonizingly dry, and tense silence. did you seriously just ask how the weather is doing?

clearly no one likes you because the teacher somehow got the highest thriving student in academic means to tutor you (who was admittedly failing class lately) so what do we have? more pain!

well that's what you honestly thought.

despite you thinking the sessions are just gonna be 95% anger and impatience it was surprisingly.. calm.

riddle was patient and polite enough to intake sharp breaths to contain a burst that could have possibly pop but you think he held back for your sake.

"my bad.."

"it's fine just. listen," he exhales.

then he just closes his eyes and takes several breaths. like he was calming himself and next thing you know he's going over what he said, slowly, carefully and more simple for you go understand.

after weeks of meeting with him for studying you just decide to ask one afternoon.

"those notes are not from me," riddle says. holding a stony face devoid of anger but a meaningful voice. "but I cherish the time we spend together,"

rarely do you ever see riddle adorn such a gentle face with even softer eyes. so safe to say you're completely stoned after registering the genuineness.

oh wow great. riddle isn't the person giving the notes, but he just hinted that he likes you? or.. well on his way to be cause there's no way the strictest guy in the world would casually say that.

"hey did you see anyone stick a note to my backpack?"

"note? where—oh by that bag, right. sorry I didn't I was picking out herbs for potionology. if it helps the only person around here other than me and you is the savanaclaw dorm leader,"

leona kingscholar

okay this is just crazy. riddle being one of the names being mentioned during your 'investigations' was shocking already to say the least but to hear the name of leona kingscholar get thrown around like that is just bizarre.

seriously? that guy looks like he does not know you even exist. heck, you're pretty sure you're one of those people that he sees, and then forgets. a backround character of some type, him being the one behind the notes is beyond you.

you're not even gonna attempt questioning him about it cause you're sure that all you're gonna get is a dead stare, and possibly, a load of mean words.

so you made up your mind.

leona kingscholar is out of question. therefore you're going to avoid him. surely it's just coincidence that his napping spot is near where you hang out after class, right?

isn't he apart of the magishift club? so why in the hell is he doing in your club room? playing with one of your members and actually beating them?

when you see his bored gaze skim around the room and land on you.. you just blank and wish you never joined the club.

"care for a match? you seem like you've got a smart little brain there," he drawls out, giving the student on the opposite seat a stare and they immediately rush away.

you swore your eye just twitch and he noticed because he just smirked. when you realize he's talking to you, you fumble. "uh—no thank you," your lips twitch into smile before dropping the next second.

his green eyes bore into you. "i wasn't asking,"

in the end you managed to beat him in a close match. clearly, that was your mistake cause now you're in a match with him nearly every time of the day since he's so adamant on beating you now.

one thing you learn is that he doesn't really like to lose. especially, in something he's confident he excels in.

the question lingers in your mind. maybe the timing in the botanical garden was coincidental but how can you think that way now that your encounter in the club room just really proved that theory wrong?

"so it isn't you?"

"no," leona says after a while. "I'd never do that,"

well what now? that's two wrong possible suspects. you thought he was done but no apparently. "I have.. other ways in showing my affection," he narrows his eyes. "take you for example,"

you snap your head to him. "excuse me?"

"oh hey! we met before didn't we?"

"yeah. you asked me about the note but I figured you'd want to know that azul's been.. kind of sketchy lately,"

azul ashengrotto

you know azul very well, contrary to your.. previous encounters. seeing as both of you are in the same club, it's privy to see each other daily and you can say that you're both in good in good, friendly terms but you can say that even asking the question you've asked the other two might just shatter that friendship.

also it's just weird to imply that seeing as azul is one of the people you've told about a note to, just one though and it would be embarrassing if he's actually the sender—and.. you just ranted to him about his notes.

well that's just another theory so!

out of everyone in the club he's probably the greatest. if you managed to beat leona you've no doubt that he can too (well. atleast if he puts his mind to it.)

it would be hard to hide your true intentions from azul. he himself has admitted that he's great at reading people and proved that point to you when he just points out the habits you do during games.

it just so happens you both play regularly hence how he notices.

"I know you're bluffing when your face is oddly serious because I know you're just pretending to be 'unreadable' to mask the results you're faced with,"

and he was completely right because you do shift your face into something stony so he wouldn’t be able to get a read on it but that completely had gone to waste..

it can't be azul, has he admired you all this time?

it can't be azul because he's like a daydream. like a cloud. when you'd go out for a walk, look up and try to grasp it but you can't because it's too far away. too perfect to hold in your hands and cherish so you'd just settle for admiring it from afar.

"I don't subject myself to feelings a lot. I'm a professional and I wanted to keep it that way," azul's face burns at the thought that flashes in his mind and the very next words he's about to say. "but I can't seem to do that with you," he admits.

it feels like he's going insane from every time he tries to not let you win, staying silent when there's a key point you're giving out from your face or when you beam at him.

you stare dumbly feeling your cheeks warm. an indirect confession?! another one?!

"don't you think dorm leader kalim might be the one behind it? I mean, out of everyone in NRC we're a little too prideful for something like that.. well him? isn't he perfect for it?"

"I'm starting to get suspicious with what everyone says,,"

kalim al asim

you know kalim al asim but you're not sure that he knows, knows you. he's like an angel to practically everyone, including you. and he can't exactly remember everyone he spares his kindness to so why should he remember you when all he did was share his 'secret spot' in the library?

you didn't exactly expect kalim to be interested in books, but he just says that he doesn't use it for reading but rather a quiet place to simply relax and bask the silence in.

wow. you suppose even guys like kalim get tired and indulge in a little escape.

you did not want to use his spot cause it's called his for a reason! and it feels like you're literally trespassing but godbless kalim because he really didn't mind and that offer was way too attractive to ignore.

sometimes you question how you even missed that heavenly corner in the library.

you yourself didn't particularly expect to end up in the library yourself but exams were coming up and you didn't want riddle's effort in tutoring you ultimately end up in waste. (also the amount of times he didn't snap at you.)

but—

"hi there! I see you're enjoying the spot I've given you," kalim jokes. inclining you to tear your eyes away from the sentence you've been re-reading far too many times.

kalim is sitting on the other chair which normally you'd be bothered with but this is technically his spot so you don't mind. the fact that he remembers is the least of your worries. "hello. yes, thank you. this place is heaven on earth," you smile.

"right? it's perfect," he shines down a bright smile at you. though blinded by it you still agree. it's right by a window with a great view of the campus, nearly no one is near it so it's really quiet, and. surrounded by cute little plants!

you bid kalim goodbye after he says that he just wanted to check if you've really been using it. seeing as he's got a class upcoming (which he actually almost forgot but good thing you asked if he just got out of one.)

in the end he drops by and chats with you everytime he can. sometimes you're the one running into him at the same spot, and he just so happened to arrive earlier.

you can say that you've gotten to be good friends.

to the point where his friend jamil comes and has to drag him away because apparently he's been skipping a lot of stuff just to come and talk to you and you've no doubt he's being serious when he yells that he'll come back as he's being hauled away by jamil and then reprimanded by the staff of the library.

"I've come back," he huffs proudly. kalim smiles brightly at you. "also sorry, I accidentally read a note that was stuck on your umbrella,"

... that one was, 'i really like you' wasn't it? if kalim's saying that then doesn't it mean he isn't the sending them?

then he laughs, "I'd have to agree with them! I do like you a lot too!"

your jaw drops. how can he say that so casually?!

"what do you mean?"

"maybe you're looking at the wrong places? maybe all these people being there are actually just coincidence. they're obvious guesses, no? if you asked me I'd look for people that usually have zero presence. they're the most sneakiest,"

idia shroud

huh.

okay you admit that was one of the smartest thing they've ever said even though they made.. like what? 2 wrong guesses on whoever? at most you don't really know a lot of people that could count as zero presence cause..

nearly everyone you know has some type of charm that attracts attention to them, be it intentional or not they have certain aspects that demand not to be ignored.

though in terms of reputation only one person comes into your mind.

... getting into ignihyde is one thing, coaxing the dorm leader to actually come talk to you, socialize is a whole 'nother story.

so you just settle for asking ortho for his game ID in a game you do play. you've only talked with idia a few times buy enough for you to say that you're atleast acquaintances.

most of the time you meet with him is pure coincidental. since both of your classes align to end and the others next one is the one the previous was in (to make it short you'd basically just switch rooms) so you'd stumble upon the other on the way there.

well not literally idia but just his floating tablet. you're nice enough to spare him a greeting and a little small talk even though most of the time it's you speaking.

to be fair he did stop to listen to you I that counts for anything at all.

ortho was nice enough to let him know about the pending request. probably because idia would have just ignored it. so for that you've officially succeeded in becoming friends with the.. top 1 player world wide with thousand of hours in the game.

you don't mention it when you join him for coop mode but the only thing that pops in your mind is;

"how do you get that crown?"

the chat bubble appears, then disappears before a message pops up. "srsly? this was literally a free item a few years ago *sighs* you only needed to log in to get it,"

you grumble. "I wasn't playing the game at it's release," no life. you twitch to add.

you've joined idia so many times that even he is comfortable enough to pop into your world and start picking out the flaws in your realm. he was all; "who even uses green and red together?"

you protested with great offense. "it was christmas back then!!"

he robs you of the materials you need which you regret telling him at all and leaves the one you don't need. (you don't know if it's all good or not because he let you rob his in turn and gave you 10x the amount you need saying this was from robbing other players)

you've never really envisioned getting so close to a person before. well, atleast you feel close to idia but you're not sure if he feels the same or would even like you admitting that.

which you won't! for the sake of your sanity and relationship.

he takes about a full two minutes to write a reply. deleting, re-writing it several times before he decides on one. "I knew someone as rare as you would get a lot of fans," it read. "I'm a fan of you too. I'm the biggest fan!" coupled with an angry emoji.

and there's the very same crown you liked the day you met in his world.

(the rarest item currently)

you don't wanna assume but the pack of sticky notes that tall, horned person just stuffed in their pocket is really familiar. almost like it's the one you receive everyday, only difference is that theirs is blank, and yours are filled with messages.

"hey! you—yes you! could I uh.. you're my friend now,"

malleus draconia

usually you're more level-headed than adopting random strangers in the halls and claiming them as your friend but after all the guys that were apparently not the perpetrator? you're pretty desperate at this point.

it was.. not like you at all, that you'd admit but it just stuck out to you (haha stuck-stick) so much that it was hard to ignore seeing as it was the same size.

(and no, the sticky notes for you aren't the bland, square ones but some type of luxury brand you're not sure yourself. also.. since when did sticky notes even have a fancy variant?)

this guy seemed like he's shocked by your audacity or just.. shocked in general because he stared at you so hard for about a minute straight before slowly saying;

"are you jesting?"

"no," you answer in a heartbeat.

oh well. you do need a new friend to bother and this guy will do.

(social anxiety is scared of this MC fr)

even though the initial shock wore off he smiled pleasantly at you but the surprised look on his face instantly came back when you introduced yourself and asked for his name.

something mischievous flashes in his eyes and you only realize that he's trailing after you without question. "you really don't know who I am?" wait should you?

you deadpan. "uh.. not really. that's why I asked you,"

he just hums.

his dog was really scary. you think his name was sebek but you don't wanna bother remembering when the first thing he gave you was a disturbed look.

tsunotaro (temporary) was a mysterious person by nature. you're by no means slow and is starting to pick the pieces together. was the reason he looked surprised by your sudden claim on him as a friend was because no one would talk to him?

heck. when you invited him to sit next to you in lunch your friends shared a collective glance and gave you some kind of excuse to leave.

the unbothered look on tsunotaro's face makes you question how many times exactly this has happened for him to be so casual about it.

"I'm sad for you," you slump and tsunotaro raises a brow at you.

"are you upset?"

"no—you don't seem to be upset by them blatantly showing that they wanna be around you," honesty! least they could do was be discreet about it. you wouldn't have questioned it if it hasn't been 5 times straight that they've left.

tsunotaro smiles at your look. "do not waste time pondering about it. I'm already used to it so it's alright,"

that's the thing he's supposed to be upset about it.

you shake your head. "since you don't wanna be offended I'll be offended on your behalf and be sad on your behalf,"

you miss the look on his face.

the heart feels so if you're feeling for him aren't you his heart?

eventually you found out that the sticky notes wasn't even malleus' but something a 'friend' of his requested. so he does know people other than you..

you didn't really want to let go of this thing you established so you didn’t, you held onto it in a vice-grip. sure. it might have started even though your intention was just the sticky notes but now that you had gotten to know him why would you let him go?

you're not sure just how exactly you got into this predicament.

he looks at you firmly. "my name is malleus draconia—" he pauses. "and i would like to be yours,"

... you're counting six people that were not sticky note person and somehow now like you too.

"ugh. you again, you're wrong again! I'm never listening to you. nope. my ears are sealed right now so don't even try,"

"oh? my bad then. I have some interesting news to share to you. I've seen vil around your locker lately, and not just lingering! he's actually staring at the notes! suspicious, right?"

end notes

vil schoenheit

okay so the others were clearly proven to be false and you've lost all hope now so you aren't even gonna try investigating this one cause you already know that it's false.

the vil schoenheit is not the sticky notes person.

maybe you're in denial but out of everyone he's the most prominent person. he did not just use his time to write sweet messages for you to read in his spare time does he? if he does he must have a lot of spare time.

WHICH HE DOESN'T.

compared to him you're like a lone star next to a moon. he shines the brightest and will continue to soak up the eyes of everyone else. you're just something people would look at for a second and forget.

meanwhile the beauty of the moon will remain and be admired.

you like to say that you were just being curious when you wake up extra early to linger in a corner where you could peek to see into the hallway where your locker way.

to your surprise he was really there. standing beautifully and staring at the sticky notes in a certain way you can't comprehend.

longing perhaps? a voice in your head suggests but you shake it off. why would he be longing?

you don't know what to do when he turns and meets eyes with you.. and you're.. currently peeking out the corner like you're stalking him.

maybe you hallucinated the flash of amusement in his eyes. "it seems as though I have a fan, won't you come out?" he abandons the locker completely and takes a look at you.

quietly you shuffle over a considerable distance in front of vil.

"oh,"

"oh,"

vil's face flickers in surprise. you feel like you just caught him red-handed.

"I know you,"

"... you do?" he does? you nervously point at yourself. is that even good or bad?

vil pursues his lips and looks down. he looks oddly soft. "we were casted into a movie together," he explains shortly. smiling thinly at the faint memories.

memories of you.

but you don't remember that at all, but it doesn't really give you an explanation as to why he'd gain a sudden interest. you were just a mere co-worker.

"you said you liked me back then,"

what.

he ignores the flabbergasted look on your face. "normally I would have not cared much, I get told that everyday. but you were persistent in your efforts, as annoying as it was,"

okay should you be freaked out right now or horrified? you did not want to hear that because it just made you seem.. obsessed. and you don't wanna get interpreted as that!

especially by someone as amazing as vil.

"you told me you liked me for me, and now I like you for you,"

"so.. you're the person that's been using the sticky notes?" you widen your eyes when he nods.

gods. of course out of all people it just had to be the person you were in denial about.

you furrow your brows. "but that's not enough for you to suddenly reciprocate. it was years ago,"

vil blinks and casually tears off a sticky note stuck in your locker. "I told you already. I don't like the memories of you. I like you,"

vil's lips quirk up into an easy smile, one you could call that you'd be enchanted with. alluring and beautiful in itself. he pulls out a piece of a sticky note, writes in it before sticking it in your chest.

you're too frozen to register the implication.

that he was the sticky notes person.

slowly you pick it off and he watches you. 'this will be the end of this' presumably referring to the notes. 'because there's no need for it when I can express my like for you freely now'

he tilts his head at you. "my, this takes me back. why don't we catch up over a cup of tea?"

you just let him usher you away.

now that you think about it you're just glad that it was way too early in the morning or else another person would have witnessed that.

*rook in the trees rn*: right

uhh... vil was always the og sticky notes guy I was gonna do but I wanted to switch to idia then remembered it's vils birthday rn so ion wanna betray him LMAO

I know it's weird that vil's the sticky note person but I just thought it was sweet that he could do something simple like that

maybe it's the most he can express it? no one would bat an eye on a sticky note besides the person that receives it so it's perfect.

I don't rlly like vil's part it has lot holes IMAO BUT IDK

there's open interpretation. you can always pretend that vil isn't the sticky notes person and another character is LOL.