#i can kind of see him being intimidated by Viggo

[headfullof-ideas]

I was gonna respond to @httyd-nerd in the reply section of my last Httyd/The Deep post, but it was getting long so I’m just putting it here where I can further elaborate on my frustrations and dilemma.

Part of writing this crossover is figuring out how characters from opposite shows will react and get along with one another. And to the surprise of who knows who else but absolutely not me, Alpheus has been a bit tricky in figuring this out. This might be a tangent on how I view his character, especially in how I write him, but partly to demonstrate how FRUSTRATED he’s making me.

Alpheus is not my favorite character. He’s not my least favorite, not by far. He’s just not my blorbo like I know he is for others. But he is an interesting character to write entirely because of how layered and flawed he is. He’s the epitome of an unreliable narrator, he thinks fairly high of himself and his own abilities, and has a lot of unresolved issues he refuses to resolve because he’s way too paranoid to get help. This makes for interesting relationships with other characters.

Except I’m really struggling with figuring out how he may get along with Dagur. It doesnt’ help that Dagur in this story, specifically the start, is a mix of his later RTTE counterpart, and his early version. He’s still deranged, but he’s enthusiastically optimistic to the point of coming across as insane too, and a bit softer because he grew up with Heather, and started dragon riding WAY earlier than he did in the show. Dagur and Alpheus are a bit similar to me in that they’re both the slightly mentally unbalanced enemy to the main protagonists, who are redeemed later down the line. Unfortunately, to me, I feel that’s where similarities wind up ending. They’ve got different personalities and goals and ways of going about them. They’ve got different backgrounds, and talents. And in some ways I can actually see them clashing. And it’s mostly because of Alpheus’s own flaws, for me at least.

Alpheus is an interesting character, and the few times I’ve written him he’s always been really fun because of how I dive into his psyche and how he perceives things. He’s a dramatic loser who instigates a rivalry with a thirteen year old, naming the thirteen year old his nemesis, and then loses to said thirteen year old hundreds of times. He’s probably wanted for a few felonies because of all the times he’s hacked the WOA and who knows who else, and might not even exist in the name of the law because we don’t know how long he was with the Guardians. This guy might not even have a birth certificate. Alpheus is an interesting character, and I’ve grown to like working with him…thing is he’s got a bit of a stick up his butt in regard to himself. He’s arrogant about his own intelligence, certainly being very intelligent, running his sub and modifying ARIA with little issues from a relatively young age, and evading all authorities for a very long time. But he’s socially stupid because he was raised by the Guardians, and I don’t think he was ever faced with the challenge of learning something from someone smarter than him, let alone interacting with someone as smart as or smarter than him. I think for the longest time Alpheus was the smartest person in the room, and never had to deal with someone actually challenging his own intellect. This isn’t helped with him not having an idea on how to respectfully talk to other people either.

Connected to that, Alpheus kind of brushes off anyone he doesn’t deem worth his time. His main focus was always finding Lemuria and getting the device (as he never actually learns what it is) to control the Monumentials, and also his somewhat one-sided rivalry with Ant. Ant was the only character I really remember him actually acknowledging. When he first met Fontaine, he just brushed off her attempts at breaking into his sub like she were a tiny, pesky fly, and he never really acknowledged her beyond being a nuisance through the rest of the show. I remember when Kaiko was mad about something (i don’t specifically remember the episode) he just commented ‘Mothers. So emotional.’ Didn’t really acknowledge her. I don’t even really remember any interaction he’s had with Will, which just adds to this. When they’re dealing with the Jellyfish Monumential, he brushes off everything Kaiko says, which can be alluded to spending a few months alone and losing his mind trying to escape, but there were other times he doubted her skills and abilities, specifically her piloting maneuvers when it came to escaping the Jellyfish. Even though, with his stalking tendencies, he had to know she was an accomplished submarine pilot. But he couldn’t do anything to escape, so why should she be able to do anything? Whenever Ant or anyone else opposed what Alpheus said was fact, he always kind of dismissed them, because I think in his mind there was no way they knew better than him. He only ever focused on Ant because he said himself that Ant was worthy of being his nemesis, or something along those lines, i don’t remember the specific words. But to me, he just always brushes off anyone he doesn’t see as worth his time and effort, doesn’t take them as seriously.

Which is where it’s hard for me to figure out his dynamic with Dagur. Dagur is an accomplished warrior, and certainly no idiot. He’s smart in his own right, and proved to be a real problem for Berk and the Riders many times. He was no Hiccup in regard to intelligence, but he’s not stupid. He’s got a bit of a temper, an obsession with being obsessed with everything he does, and doesn’t really give up ever. Man hounded Hiccup for four years to be his brother until Hiccup finally accepted the adoption. But he’s got Deranged in his name, and I just can’t help but think that Alpheus might not think too highly of him. Dagur’s plans are a lot more thought on the fly while following a loose rubric he came up with five minutes before hand, with a lot more brute strength, whereas Alpheus plans with his head and ahead of time. I just can’t help but think that Alpheus wouldn’t immediately respect Dagur, thinking he’s a crazy lunatic who doesn’t think anything through (which isn’t entirely wrong), and isn’t smart enough to understand anything Alpheus says. I think he’d just dismiss anything Dagur says about anything going on, especially when it comes to planning, which would drive Dagur insane, as he is quick to rise with a temper sometimes. I see them clashing at first, because Alpheus is still Alpheus and is obsessed with Ant, except by that point Dagur has claimed Ant as his brother, and he was there first(which now that I’m thinking about it, opens up some interesting potential for Alpheus and Viggo interacting. Viggo is essentially an older, more experienced, and grounded Alpheus after all, who also has prior interaction with Ant). I think it would take Dagur coming up with something that forces Alpheus to acknowledge that no, he’s not actually stupid, for things to change, but where they change I don’t know, because Alpheus is filled with pride and an inability to admit he’s wrong, and Dagur is a proud Berserker, in every aspect.

I do see Dagur getting a kick out of messing with Alpheus, which just pisses Alpheus off.

[violet-moonstone]

I was thinking recently about how Viggo's physical prowess is a secondary aspect of what makes him a formidable enemy. It's really his charisma and cunning that's important. Yes, he's physically intimidating and clearly a strong fighter, but I don't think that's a defining trait.

I think it would be really interesting if instead of both Grimborn brothers being skilled fighters, Ryker were solely the brawn while Viggo only had his intellect and charisma to use. It would make them more clearly character foils and it might be interesting to see if Viggo had any bitterness about needing his brother as a source of physical intimidation/protection. It would also make their relationship much more about give and take rather than Viggo easily calling all the shots because he's both intelligent and strong (which again, would make him more bitter).

I also think it would create more parallels between him and Hiccup. Hiccup is pretty athletic in Race to the Edge, but he's not exactly relying on his strength - he's still very much mainly a thinker. It would be cool to see Viggo pointing out the similarities between them - especially if Viggo also had some kind of physical impairment that made people underestimate him/prevented him from being a strong fighter. (Like maybe if he'd been a burn victim much earlier but instead of it only affecting his face, it impacted larger parts of his body too, and he suffered from chronic pain and/or limited mobility?)

Anyway all this is basically to say that I would love to write/read a fic in which Viggo is more similar to Larys Strong (specifically the way he is in House of the Dragon). He'd totally have a torture dungeon and have a weird relationship with fire where he's deathly afraid of it but also enjoys burning other people.

I can absolutely see Viggo killing Ryker through arson to gain power too.

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Whumptober Day 16: Please

Summary: Written for Whumptober Day 16. Set during RttE. Downed by the Dragon Hunters after betraying them, Heather can't count on her façade to keep Windshear safe.

Rating: Mature

Characters: Heather, Windshear, Astrid, Ryker

Pairing: None

Words: 1 266

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: Forced to Beg

Whumpee: Heather, Windshear

Author’s Notes: Not going to lie, this was another one I had a lot of trouble with and only JUST finished. So please excuse the roughness of this one-shot.

Written for the prompt: Forced to Beg. Kinda.

Also written for a request on Tumblr. Because killing two birds with one stone and all that.

It's the end of a work week and past 2am for me and I have a headache. I'm tired.

Constructive criticism is appreciated!

Enjoy!

Ao3

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

"No, Windshear!" Heather cries out, watching as the Dragon Hunters pin her beloved Razorwhip to the deck of the ship.

They've crashed and while Windshear is mostly fine, Heather has at least a bent leg to worry about and that is the only reason why she isn't racing towards her now.

"Put that dragon into a cage!" Ryker growls at his men, clanging his strangely colored sword against Windshear's metallic hide and causing her to roar indignantly.

"Ah, shut it!"

The Hunters force the Razorwhip into a dragon proof cage and lock it tight. Heather, unable to move much, can only watch.

"So Heather, dropping in for a visit, are we?" With Windshear out of the way, Ryker turns his attention to the Rider. A maliciously joyous smile appears on his face and Heather can feel herself starting to sweat, her palms are clammy.

She doesn't have her axe with her and that she regrets. It slid out of her reach upon impact with the ship and it's now in the possession of a Hunter.

"I wasn't planning to," Heather responds to him, forcing herself to speak without showing her pain. It isn't easy as she can feel her knee burning, she has no idea how successful she is.

"And yet here you are. Spying on us again, were you?" Ryker asks, circling the downed dragon rider as if he's a predator and she's his prey.

Heather doesn't like it, feeling intimidated by the display. Her injury doesn't help.

"I wasn't spying. I was just in the area." She tells him, refusing to let his intimidation tactics get to her and she isn't entirely lying either. She was on a patrol when she spotted this ship and got downed in the process.

Heather looks around, scanning the sky for another dragon-riding pair. She knows they didn't go on that patrol alone.

Unfortunately, she didn't see them anymore. Did Astrid not see them crash? Or Stormfly for that matter?

Ryker steps dangerously close to her injured leg when he comes to a stop.

"Just in the area? And you think we believe that kind of crap?" He asks and his men gathered around the three of them mutter in agreement. Heather's eyes glide over them, discomforted by the fact that she's wounded, outnumbered, and without her dragon.

But then Ryker approaches Windshear and the dragon snarls his way. Heather watches, keeping her composure, but almost ready to panic on the inside. Her dragon is everything to her.

"I'll ask again, what were you doing here?" Ryker turns to her and asks. A smile almost as malicious as Viggo's makes its way onto his face.

"I told you, I was just in the area." She answers, wondering why it even matters. He has to know he's close to Dragon's Edge, it's a perfectly logical answer.

"Tell me the truth, Heather." He orders and bashes his weapon against the cage to rattle Windshear, who startles. Heather jumps as well, it does not feel good on her leg.

"I told you the truth!" She raises her voice, angered by both the added pain and the way he's treating her Razorwhip.

"Tell me the truth, Heather!" Another hit, Windshear cowers as this is unbearable on her sensitive ears.

"I told you-"

"The truth!"

Knowing there is nothing she can say that will make Ryker believe her, Heather stays silent and looks the other way. What's the point of answering if he won't listen?

Ryker scowls at her disobedience.

"Spear."

Confused to what he means, Heather looks back at the Dragon Hunter Chief's older brother to see what he means by "spear". What he means is obvious, but what she needs to know is what exactly he means to do with the said spear.

Ryker is handed a spear by one of his men and due to Windshear's limited space inside the cage, she can't avoid him when he takes that spear and jams the head between two of her metal platings on her sides.

Windshear attempts to move away, but no matter how much she presses herself against the cage's bars, she can't stop the poking between her ribs. She rumbles in distress and looks to Heather, her rider, and the one who raised her and nursed her back to health when she found her injured.

"I'll ask again," Ryker starts and at this new development, Heather attempts to get up to her feet, an impossible feat with a dislocated joint.

"Please, Ryker, I'm telling the truth!"

"What are you doing here and where are the rest of the Dragon Riders?" He finishes and jabs the spear into the dragon's side, just light enough to tease, but still enough to draw blood.

Windshear cries out and blood drips down from between the plating.

"Windshear!" Heather cries out in horror.

"Please, Ryker, I'm telling you the truth, I just happen to be here and saw this ship!" It takes a lot to make Heather beg, but when her dragon's life is involved, she begs rather quickly.

It's a sentiment all the Dragon Riders can sympathize with. The Hunters, however, they only shine with malevolence.

"Answer the question, Heather!" He stabs again, once again not deep enough to kill, but deep enough for the threat to be there.

"No, please, leave her alone!" Frantic, Heather tries once more to get up on her feet, but only gets so far as she tumbles back down again and cries out, pain radiating throughout her entire leg and up her hip.

"Heather!" This time he goes deeper and more blood is drawn, Windshear howls in misery.

"Please, stop!" She screams, barely realizing that she's crying.

And then an end is put to her misery when Ryker is suddenly snatched off the deck and away from Windshear by the claws of a Nadder. Immediately after, a purple ball of fire following a high-pitched whine blasts the side of the ship, which wasn't as dragon-proof as their cages.

"Guys," Heather sobs, watching the Dragon Riders finally descend upon the Hunters from the sky to rescue her and Windshear.

This is why Astrid and Stormfly were nowhere to be found, they were racing back to the Edge to get the others for backup.

With Ryker gone, the spear falls uselessly on the ground and Meatlug grabs between her teeth and throws it overboard, Fishlegs patting her on the head for a job well done. Next up, breaking Windshear out of that horrendous cage.

As the rest of the Dragon Riders take care of the Hunters and the ship, Stormfly lands near Heather, and Astrid leaps off.

"I'm so sorry we left, but we didn't know if this was the only ship, we needed to get backup." Astrid immediately apologizes, falling to her knees next to her friend. She sees the tears and though her intentions were good and her call right, she hates the outcome.

She heard her begging all the way up in the air. It was horrible to listen to. And by the sounds of the Hunters being attacked all around them, Astrid isn't the only one who feels this way.

"Just get us out of here." Heather sniffs, wanting her and Windshear to be safe on the Edge and away from here. She takes Astrid's offer to help her up in a sitting position more comfortable for her leg.

They're going to have to treat her right here on this ship before they can take her home with them, but for the time being, Heather is just glad that a rescue party has come for them.

[hils79]

Fic Tag Game

I saw this on @kholran’s tumblr, liked it to fill in later and then promptly forgot. Don’t check Tumblr as soon as you wake up, fam. You will forget what you did an hour later. Anyway, this looks fun and now that I’m actually writing regularly again I thought I’d give this a go. 

Name: Hils

I am an ancient internet crone who, when I set up a Livejournal back in 2001, decided to just use a version of my actual name. I’m some version of Hils most places.

Fandoms: Since this is specifically about fic, I’m going to limit it to fandoms I’ve written in. Because otherwise we’d be here all night. I’m also not going to include fandoms where I only wrote one fic on a whim. All of the below are fandoms where I’ve written two fics or more. 

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: This was my first experience with online fandom and still the longest and most prolific time I’ve spent in any fandom I think. My ship of choice was Buffy/Spike. I’ll be honest, when it became canon on the show I kind of lost interest. Be careful what you wish for :D

Pirates of the Caribbean: Yeah, I have a think for enemies to lovers. Jack/Norrington was my ship of choice here. This was also my first m/m OTP. 

Lord of the Rings RPF: This was my first RPF fandom (I know it's not for everyone don't judge me) and my pairing of choice was Sean Bean/Viggo Mortensen. It was a pretty small pairing even in terms of LOTRRPF but I had a lot of fun. 

Smallville: I started shipping Clark and Lex from pretty much the first episode. Which was funny because I’ve been a Superman fan since I was a little kid and never expected to end up here. This was another big fandom for me where I wrote a lot. It’s second after Buffy for number of fics I’ve posted. 

Merlin: This was another one where I started shipping Merlin/Arthur from pretty much the beginning. It’s funny that, as a Brit, this is the only British fandom I’ve ever been in. 

Supernatural: Another big one. I’d watched the show from pretty much the beginning but it wasn’t until Castiel arrived in season 4 that I started writing fic. This is my third biggest fandom in terms of number of fics published and it’s also responsible for my two longest fics

Marvel: I’m using this as a broad umbrella to cover a bunch of different MCU movies, the comics, and the Agents of SHIELD TV show. Pairings I have written are: Tony/Pepper, Tony/Steve, Steve/Bucky, Phil/Clint

The Man From UNCLE: I grew up watching repeats of the old 60s show which I adored, and then the movie came out and was also fantastic, so my fics cover both the movie universe and the TV universe. Mostly Napoleon/Ilya with some Napoleon/Gaby/Ilya thrown in

Check Please: My introduction to hockey and I’m ashamed to say I still haven’t read the end of it despite owning a hard copy of it. Jack/Bitty are so sweet but, again, I kind of lost interest once they actually got together in canon

Hockey RPF: Sort of a natural progression from Check Please really. All my hockey fic is locked and comment moderation is on but it’s there if you feel the need to look. Pairings I wrote were Sid/Geno, Gabe/Tyson and Phil Kessel/Carl Hagelin which was a nice little rare pairing to play with.

The Untamed: My introduction to cdramas. I’ve only posted a couple of fics because I find the fandom quite intimidating in terms of volume and quality.  Weirdly this is one of the few fandoms where the pairing being canonically together just inspired me to write instead of putting me off. This fandom got me writing again after a couple of years of barely posting anything at all. 

Guardian: I fell into this one HARD. I posted my first fic about a month after I finished the show and I still have ideas for more. This was kind of a turning point for me in getting me to write regularly again. 

DMBJ/The Lost Tomb: This is where I pretty much live at the moment. I don’t know what it is about these silly shows that inspires me so much but I love them and the characters dearly. This is one of the few fandoms where I’m just as happy writing gen as I am writing shippy stuff. I just love the Iron Triangle friendship so much. 

Tropes: Hurt/Comfort is the big one for me. Pretty much all my fics involve this trope in some sense. Other than that I think it depends on the characters and the fandom. 

Fic I spent most time on: Definitely  Misha Collins Makes A Match (yes it’s an RPF fic). I had to plot out a whole road trip route set in a country where I don’t live. 

Favorite fic(s) you’ve written: Ooh, that’s a tough one. I generally don’t read my fics after I’ve published them and once they’re out there I consider them Done and move on to thinking about the next one. 

And There's That Pesky Thing Called Reality - I had a lot of fun playing with the meta aspects of fandom. It’s dated quite badly now but if you want a taste of what fandom was like in 2010 this is it.

He's My Brother - I enjoyed exploring different characters’ points of view for this one and how they see Wei Wuxian at different points in the show

Fic I spent least time on: I think I wrote and posted  Love On Ice in one evening. 

Longest fic: Discounting things I’ve written with other people it’s  Misha Collins Makes A Match again

Shortest fic: According to AO3  Three Little Words which is a 200 word Buffy/Spike fic

Most hits/kudos/comments/bookmarks:

Hits:  The Truth About Cats, Dogs and Penguins which is a Sid/Geno hockey RPF fic

Kudos and Bookmarks:  Unleashed which is a Steve/Bucky AU where they meet in their local dog park

Comments: He's My Brother. The Untamed fandom might be a bit scary but they are also very kind

Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: I’m already planning at least one addition to the Zhu Yilong/Chen Minghao series I wrote for this year’s Sundial Exchange

Share a bit of a WIP: I generally only have one WIP on the go at a time and I just write outlines for any other ideas I have. So, this is a bit of what I’m working on at the moment. This is not, despite the below snippet, a Zhu Yilong/Chen Minghao fic. 

“Do you want his number?” Chen Minghao asks with a grin. “You can ask him yourself. I’ll need to check with him first but I think he’ll be fine with it.”

Something drops in Zhu Yilong’s stomach. He’s a mature adult who has met plenty of famous actors during his time in the industry. But there’s something different about being introduced to someone you admire. He’s not going to let his shyness get in the way of this opportunity though, not when it could help with his current role.

“That would be great. If you’re sure it’s no trouble.”

Chen Minghao waves a dismissive hand. “Of course it’s no trouble. All I need to do is send a text.”

I tag: ALL of my writer friends. I want to know all about your projects. TELL ME.

[wickedbarnes]

𝕬𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖑 𝖎𝖓 𝕯𝖎𝖘𝖌𝖚𝖎𝖘𝖊 (Pt. 1) | John Wick x Reader

A prompt by the lovely @lokis-imaginary-friend which you can find here. Somehow I can't mention you but I'll try and edit that later!

NOTE: I can't add the read more break so I'll just cut this into parts. I don't know how to add the read more break because I'm only using my phone so I apologize in advance for the inconvenience. Hopefully I did this prompt enough justice.

WARNING: None yet.

--

You knew what your father did for a living, what your family was known for despite his efforts of keeping you out of the limelight. You were Viggo's only daughter. He cherished you just as much as he cherished your older brother Iosef even if he was harder on him than he is on you. So despite everything, despite of how brutal your father can be, he tried his best to be good for you. But he could only do so much. Some things were beyond his control.

Eventually, as you grew up into a fine, intelligent young woman, Viggo had came into terms that you already knew the dark side of what your name carried. But under any circumstance did he ask you to join the business. He made sure not to do that for as long as he lived. Iosef, however, was stubborn enough. So despite you convincing him not to do it, he eventually got himself in the family business.

But as you returned from your well deserved vacation from Greece after just recently graduating from college, you came home to Iosef throwing his usual tantrums. He was usually like that whenever he didn't get something that he wanted or whenever he displeased his father.

"брат.[Brother]" You spoke, your voice causing him to freeze on his spot and turn his head towards you. His group nodded their head towards you respectfully, not wanting to be rude to the Tarasov Princess.

"Сестра. [Sister]" Iosef immediately made his way towards you and engulfed you in a tight hug before pulling away, forcing a smile on your face despite the fact you could see right through him and the way he was suppressing his anger.

"What happened this time, Iosef?" You asked, your Russian accent going completely noticeable whenever you spoke English, "Did you and father have a fight again?"

Iosef shook his head and cleared his throat, turning to look at his men before he focused his attention back to you.

"No. No, we haven't. I just had a bad morning, some fucker ruined my mood today. Thinking he's all high and mighty, he probably doesn't know who I am." He scoffed and you couldn't help but roll your eyes at his comment. Iosef's ego sometimes gets too big for his own good. It sometimes resulted to him getting into fights and arguments with Viggo.

"Care to tell me what happened?" You asked as you made your way towards the kitchen to get a bottle of water, feeling your throat go dry after a long flight before you made your way back to the large living room where Iosef took a seat on the velvet sofa.

"I was at the gasoline station this morning. And then I saw this Ford Mustang Mach 1, the 1969 edition. And then I remembered how I don't have that in my collection yet so I asked the asshole of an owner the price for the car, I wanted to buy it." You sat down on the couch across him, your eyes never leaving his as he told of his current predicament.

"And he said it's not for sale. He refused to let me buy it. That fucker. So since he's being hard to get, I'll just have to do it my own way." Iosef smirked cruelly, causing you to furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, Y/N. Break into his house, get the fucking car, change the paint job and the VIN and make it mine. Everything has a price." He answered nonchalantly as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Iosef, stop being an idiot. Not everything has a price. You don't even know this man. What if he's dangerous?" You tried to reason out but he just rolled his eyes and got up from the couch when he noticed the sun was already setting.

"Oh, come on. What's the worst thing can he do? Hit me with a fucking baseball bat? There's one of him and how many of us. I'm pretty sure we'll come out of there alive."

"That's not the point, Iosef. The point is that if you keep this behavior up you won't even see what's coming for you until it's too late. Think about it first, брат. Is the car really that worth it? Can't you just buy it somewhere, I'm sure that's not the only 1969 Ford Mustang in the world."

Iosef walked over to the tall window in the living room and looked at the view of the sky outside. Your features softened as he reminded you of his father. They looks so much alike despite the fact Iosef got his nose and lips from your Mother.

"You're right. But it's not just about the car, Y/N. It's about vengeance. If only you saw how that man offended me. I'm not going down without at least getting back at him. And if taking his car is the only way to do it then so be it." Iosef turned back around to his men and gave them the signal to go outside and go to their cars. Iosef was about to make his way outside when you quickly put the water bottle on the coffee table and chased after him, grabbing his arm.

"Iosef, please. This is all stupid and it's not worth it. If you keep doing this, one day you'll be getting yourself shot in the head." Worry was etched on your face. And even if Iosef wanted to comfort you so badly, he chose to do the latter and went outside where his men were waiting for him.

All of this for a fucking car.

--

"John will come for you. And you will do nothing... because you can do nothing. So get the fuck out of my sight!" Your father, Viggo, hissed in his ear before pushing Iosef away from him. You sat on the stool, frozen and speechless as you watched Iosef stand up while your father turned his back on him, focusing his attention to you.

Viggo would cup your face and press a gentle kiss on your forehead. He knew the fear that was coursing in your veins. Fear for Iosef, fear for your father, fear for your own life. And fear of the Baba Yaga.

You very well knew who John Wick was since you heard stories circulating around him. You saw him once when you snuck into Viggo's office as a kid. John was young at the time. Maybe in his mid-thirties by the time you first laid eyes on him, you were only six with the curiosity of a little kid. And although Viggo never ever introduced you to any of his colleagues, he somehow introduced you to John. Who, despite his stoic and intimidating demeanor, offered you one of the most kindest smiles. His eyes suddenly turning soft as he greeted you.

"папа? [Papa?]" You poked your head through the door, your eyes scanning the office and once you caught sight of your father, you immediately giggled and ran your way towards him.

"Y/N!" Viggo would say in disbelief as he crouched down and caught you when you jumped in his arms. He hated it whenever you snuck into his office. Especially when he's talking to a colleague of his. He always made sure to tell you that the office is off limits but you never listened. Instead, Viggo would have men guarding his office but it seems they weren't doing a good job at that.

"What are you doing here, Маленький? [Little one]. You're supposed to be in bed. And didn't I tell you not to sneak into my office, you know you're not allowed in here." Viggo scolded you as he stood up with you in his arms causing you pout at him, your eyes wide before you looked down at your small hands that was absentmindedly fiddling with his tie.

"You were supposed to read me a story, Papa. Iosef won't do it. He says I have to give him all my Halloween candy before he can do so." You whined and you had missed how Viggo's cheeks heated up in slight embarrassment when you somehow revealed his soft side to the man dressed in black that was sitting by his desk who he was sure was trying to suppress a chuckle.

"Later, little one. Papa's busy." Viggo sighed before your eyes fell on the man wearing a black three piece suit, short raven hair that was gelled to perfection and a scruffy beared that was trimmed well.

You tilted your head to the side curiously. You were always straight-forward as a kid. Sometimes you would catch people off guard and sometimes you'd amuse them by your zero fear of saying what was on your mind. Something that you got from your Mother.

"John. Meet my daughter, Y/N. Y/N, meet John. He's a friend of Papa's." Your father would say as you smiled shyly at John before giving him a little wave. He's a very handsome man but you were quite confused and a tad bit upset that he doesn't seem to smile. Much like your father. You would always catch Viggo frowning. He would only smile around those he cares for.

However, John's features softened as he offered you a kind smile before lifting his hand up to wave at you. This made you giggle shyly and hide your face against the crook of your father's neck momentarily before you lifted your head up and look back at John who looked at you amusingly.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. John." You would say politely, knowing it'd be rude if you hadn't said that. John bowed his head in response.

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss Y/N. But you really should get back to your room. You wouldn't want your father cancelling story time now, would you?" John said, trying his best to convince you to run back to your room so they could carry on with their meeting. Not that he hated kids nor did he hate that you had intervened. It's just that he knew this room wasn't very suitable for kids your age.

You gasped and immediately kicked your legs, signalling for your father to bring you down on the ground so you could run your way towards the door. Upon opening it, you quickly turned back around and gave John a toothy grin despite the fact that you had a missing tooth in the front due to eating too many sweets.

"You're very handsome, Mr. John. You should smile more." And before Viggo could call your name and scold you, you ran your mischievous butt outside his office and immediately made your way back to your room instead of risking the chance to miss out on story time.

But that was years ago. That was before you knew the true nature of John Wick. Before you knew the true meaning behind the meeting they were having. Before you knew what was really your family business. As you grew up, you had heard stories of how brutal John Wick is. And how he will stop at nothing until he gets the job done.

You had heard of how he manages to kill a group of armed men all by himself. How he killed three men with a fucking pencil. And how he had retired and put the life as an assassin aside for his wife who had recently died of an illness.

All the information you had heard from your father was starting to sink in. Iosef had stolen his car and killed his dog. Which was probably a present from his wife.

Iosef turned to look at you and saw the fear in your eyes as it began to water, your hands shaking as you put it over your mouth to keep yourself from gasping. You were staring at the blank wall as Viggo did his best to calm you down by rubbing your arm comfortingly but nothing was working.

Your eyes soon shifted back to Iosef, who gulped. Because despite putting up a brave face, you knew he was scared deep down.

"брат... what have you done?" You whispered shakily.

Hurry, fall asleep.

Or the Boogeyman will come for you.

[tysonrunningfox]

Ripped: Part 7

In which I realize Hiccup’s potential as the white girl in every horror movie ever because oh my god 

AO3

“Well, you didn’t sleep,” Ruffnut wastes no time in announcing her assessment of Astrid’s appearance when she sits down across the table.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Oh, really?” She raises an eyebrow, and usually Astrid would be embarrassed. Usually she’d deny whatever Ruffnut was implying, because true or not, feeling read when she doesn’t want to be is unwelcome. “I meant it in the ‘you look like a still warm corpse’ way, but do you mean it in a fun way?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“I’m sure it’s normal, you can be kind of intimidating when fully clothed,” she snickers.

“No, I’m being serious.” Astrid folds her hands on the table. “Do I scare easy?”

“Not where I would have hoped this was going, but you knew it was a gamble—"

“No, answer my question, Ruff. Do I look like someone who gets scared of a bump in the dark and huddles against a guy and then kisses him on the cheek before he leaves?”

“On the cheek? Is that a euphemism?”

“I kissed him on the cheek.” Astrid wonders if saying it out loud could enable her to rewrite that part of the past but she isn’t sure she wants to. Maybe she wants to be convinced into it, to be reminded what a bad idea this all is.

Maybe she should have called Fishlegs.

No, he was surprisingly excited about her stupid midnight tour. Maybe she should have called Officer Jorgenson, as he’s reliably been the only one volunteering to talk sense into her.

“That’s kind of cute,” Ruffnut wrinkles her nose, ordering a mimosa from a passing waiter.

“No, it’s not. I’m—he’s basically harassing me, Ruff, he’s giving tours to my apartment.”

“Including private tours that you agree to go on?”

Astrid bites her lip, avoiding that obviously rhetorical question and debating whether to bring up the scream or not. She feels bad for how little she remembers it, how it feels like a ghost from a nightmare she chased off well enough to fall back asleep. She knows it was real, she felt it in her numb fingertips, her sinking stomach, and she’s not someone who loses a moment like that to a stupid, awkward kiss. Worse even, a kiss on the cheek of a guy who shines laser pointers in her apartment window but won’t walk through the open door without an invitation.

“He was excited to read Tuff’s stupid binder,” she sidesteps the end of the tour as best she can, “it’s what he deserves for making me read that Admiral Haddock nonsense.”

“Right, making you.” Ruffnut rolls her eyes, “you know that you don’t just have to read every book that crosses your threshold, right? You could use the next one to fix your coffee table so that it stops wobbling, even.”

“Usually I’d be offended, but the Admiral Haddock book is bad enough I’d consider it,” she lies.

Maybe she would have before Hiccup told her about his dad. The open way that he talked about self-professed trauma is sticking with her alongside screams and stupid kisses.

“You know it’s ok if you had a good time with him, right? Even if he has awful taste in hats, you could still like him, even.” Ruffnut prods, unusually gentle, and Astrid looks at the TV above her head.

“He didn’t wear the hat.”

“Bummer.” Ruffnut focuses on the menu then and Astrid focuses on the news, the narrow alleyways in the broadcast almost familiar after last night.

“In the early hours of the morning, the body of a woman was found, all signs pointing to foul play…” The news caster drones on in an unfeeling monotone and Astrid recognizes one of the buildings behind her as the building that Hiccup pointed out for replacing Catherine Whittaker’s murder site, right near where they were when they heard the scream. The scream and the thud and the deafening, heavy silence that followed.

“Oh my god,” she fumbles for her phone, frantically shooting off a few too many texts at Hiccup.

“Good mimosas, right?” Ruffnut nods, “I love that we no longer, as a people, have to choose between chicken or waffles. It’s both now. The future is here.”

“I have to go,” Astrid stands up, calling Hiccup and pressing the phone to her ear even as Ruffnut complains about being left alone at the table. “Pick up, pick up, pick up.”

“Hey, Astrid. Hi, Astrid—”

“Did we hear,” she lowers her voice when she notices the hostess looking at her suspiciously, “did we have anything to do with what I just saw on the news?”

“That’s a really long story,” he laughs but the sound is heavy and tired.

“Well, I think given the circumstances, I can clear out my schedule to hear it,” she hisses, sitting down on the bench by the restaurant’s front door.

“Ok, that’s umm, I need an hour? Can you meet me at the Ripped then?”

She checks the time on the clock above the hostess stand, “I’ll be there.”

“What was all that about?” Ruffnut asks when Astrid sits back down and picks up her menu. She’s too scattered to read so she decides on the first item she sees.

“Nothing.” As ready to bury a body as Ruffnut was when she first moved in, it’s not an offer she’d actually ever take her up on. “I have to meet Hiccup in an hour.”

“Have to? So much obligation already, sexy.”

“It’s not like that,” Astrid fidgets under the scrutiny. She’s not good with being judged for other people’s actions, and she’s even worse with secrets.

00000

Hiccup is waiting outside of the Ripped Tavern when Astrid gets there, chatting with Snotlout, who is almost unrecognizable out of uniform. Plain clothes or not, though, he’s still a cop and she feels stupid for texting Hiccup written evidence of what they’d heard.

“Hey,” Hiccup waves when he sees her, his energy frantic in comparison with the circles under his eyes and the sallow tinge to his face, like he didn’t sleep either.

“You!” Snotlout points at her and she takes a step back, “you were there, you can tell him.”

“I was where?” She shakes her head, “what are you talking about?” Was Hiccup stupid enough to tell his cop cousin that the heard something and didn’t report it? That’s the quickest way to involve themselves in whatever happened.

“You were at your apartment when your friend thought I was a stripper, Hiccup doesn’t believe me.”

“Oh, right, I’m sorry about that.” Astrid hates that she has to apologize for Ruffnut, but if Hiccup did open his big stupid mouth, she doesn’t have much of a choice aside from groveling, “Ruffnut is…something, I don’t know what got into her. I never do.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he looks back at Hiccup, “see, I told you?”

“Wait,” Hiccup frowns, green eyes boring into Astrid’s like he’s trying to see through an obvious lie, “your friend called Snotlout a stripper? Really?”

“Entirely unprompted, I don’t know how she’s survived this long.” She tucks her hair behind her ear and glances at Snotlout, trying to ask the question she needs to without saying it, “are you staying? Or…”

“Nah, I’ve got to get to work, I just needed to prove a point.” He pats Hiccup on the chest, “told you so.”

Hiccup waits until Snotlout is across the street before speaking, hands in his pockets, “so did you plan an elaborate scheme with Snotlout so that he could brag at me about someone thinking he was a stripper?”

“Not at all, my friend is really that stupid, I thought she was going to get us both arrested,” she laughs, relieved in a way that doesn’t make sense given what she came to talk about with him. It’s the same calm she felt the night before, like being closer is better than further away.

“Right, like Snotlout would arrest you, especially for what he weirdly perceives to be a compliment.” He laughs, shrugging a bouncy shoulder at her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you know, because umm,” he waves a hand at her, “because you’re so—you know, because you look like…you happen to look.” His sallow cheeks are suddenly bright red, highlighting a sprinkling of winter pale freckles on his cheeks, and Astrid realizes she hasn’t seen him outside in the daylight before.

“That’s not particularly ethical,” she mumbles.

“Well, uh, neither is Snotlout sometimes. I guess.” He laughs, “want to go inside?”

Maybe it’s his awkward, hopeful expression or because this is so different than the usual midnight, often intrusive situations where they run into each other, but she digs her heels into the cement before answering.

“You remember what I’m here to talk to you about, right? This isn’t a date—”

“Honestly, I could use a drink to avail you of my last twelve hours of adventure,” he opens the door.

“Ok, but should we talk about this in public?” She looks over her shoulder, half expecting Snotlout to be listening or someone to see the actual meaning behind ‘this’. Murder. The murder that they heard happen, more likely than not.

“Don’t worry, no one will bother me in here,” he grins, quietly, cryptically reassuring as he waves her inside.

The Ripped Tavern is as hokey as always, but more depressing given the time of day and the fact that the brunette behind the bar glares at Hiccup as he walks in. There’s a strip of police caution tape across the side door where Hiccup’s tour starts, and he chooses a table at the opposite corner of the bar, under a rack of Viggo Grimborn tee-shirts for sale, ten percent off. A busboy takes their order and Astrid sticks with soda, still sober from the news at brunch and wanting to stay that way until she has answers.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Astrid snaps after Hiccup has painstakingly cleared all of the foam off of his beer, staring pensively into the glass and spinning it slowly in his long fingers.

“Yeah, I just—trying to figure out where to start, I guess.” He chews on his lower lip with crooked teeth and glances at the caution tape over the door that might as well be purposeful décor.

“How about you start when you left my place?” She rests her elbows on the table and leans forward, conscious of eyes on the back of her neck.

“Because that route ends in me explaining how I got arrested, and I’m not sure I can pull off the kind of bad boy charisma I’d need to get away with that.”

“You got arrested?” Astrid hisses and Hiccup starts rubbing one of his wrists, bringing her attention to a faded red line across the bony point of it.

“I was at the wrong place at the wrong time,” his floppy hair hangs over his forehead as he stares into his beer, “I told you I’d check out what we heard—”

“And I told you to get an Uber.”

“Well, I didn’t, and I went to check it out—”

“The scream, you mean,” she hugs herself against the chill running up her arms, even under her jacket.

Hiccup shrugs, seeing something in his memory that makes him pale, “yeah. And I stumbled across, well, I—right out there,” he points at the caution tape, “and I was right on time, of course, the cops found me standing over a body.”

For someone who delightedly hands around crime scene photos, he looks upset, and she thinks back to the night before when he said he doesn’t like to focus on the gore. Apparently, that wasn’t just a really weird line.

“Are you ok?” She reaches reflexively across the table to rest her hand on his.

“What? Yeah, I’m fine.” He shakes his head but doesn’t move his hand, like he thinks she doesn’t notice what she’s doing and he doesn’t want to alert her. “But it looked pretty suspicious, I’ll give that to them.”

“Another round?” A voice interrupts and Astrid jumps back, unsure when she got so close.

“No,” Hiccup points at his mostly full beer with the hand Astrid just abandoned, “I’m good, Heather.”

The brunette bartender lingers then, pursing her lips before setting her empty tray on the table next door and squatting down next to Hiccup. She’s beautiful, in a sharp sort of way, and she looks at Hiccup like she wants him to be aware of her jagged edges.

“Can I talk to you?” Her green eyes flick to Astrid for a judgmental second. “Alone.”

“Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of Astrid.” Hiccup rolls his eyes, his previous certainty that no one would disrupt him here obviously overblown.

“I can give you two a minute—” Astrid starts to stand up but Hiccup follows.

“Oh, we’re leaving? Sounds good.”

“Fine,” Heather huffs, looking suspiciously at Astrid one last time, “did you hear what happened last night?”

“Hear about it?” Hiccup rolls his eyes, “you could say that.”

“What do you think?” Heather looks at the side door, “it was right by the storm drain, from what I saw from the back door.”

“You saw it?” Hiccup is pale again and it makes Astrid want to get up and leave, knowing that apparently, he’ll follow.

“Yeah, and the placement of the intestine—”

“Let’s not talk about intestines right now, God, Heather.” He wrinkles his nose, “I had the split-second Mary Johnson thought too, but that’s because we give tours on it every single night.”

“Well, there’s no way no one else is going to think it when those pictures get out.” Heather cocks her head, weighing what she’s about to say, “I’m just saying there’s reason to think there might be an uptick in business around here—”

“A woman died—”

“I’m not ignoring that,” Heather stands up slowly and Astrid can’t help but glance up at the Grimborn shirts for sale. No, she isn’t ignoring that women died. She’s working somewhere that profits on it. “It’s awful, I know it’s awful, I can’t wait until the cops catch and lock up whoever did it but I’m trying to pay rent here and we’re going to lose a couple weeks of tours, at least.”

“And you want me to come back and do the nine and eleven,” Hiccup rolls his eyes and chugs the rest of his beer, “and tell everyone about the ghost of Johann, resurrected after over a hundred years and striking again?”

“You can use your own script, Hiccup, I’m just asking a favor—”

“Not a chance,” he stands up, nonchalantly offering Astrid his hand and pulling her to her feet, “put these on my tab, alright?”

“You don’t have a tab,” Heather’s face is hard again, irritated with an argument she’s lost before.

“I know for a fact that Dagur still keeps my tab,” Hiccup waves over his shoulder as he leaves through the front door, dropping Astrid’s hand as soon as they’re outside. “I hate it when she’s right,” he grumbles at his phone and Astrid frowns.

“What are you talking about?” She doesn’t like feeling behind, and it’s worse that Hiccup seems to be so good at leaving her that way.

“I have to cancel my tours for tonight, the crime scene is at the very beginning of my route.” He types something and presses send.

“How do you know her?” Astrid tucks her hands in her jacket pocket, leaning away from him slightly. She should be asking more about last night, about the murder, about him being arrested, but he keeps flinging mysteries at her faster than she can parse through.

“Long story.”

“You’re full of those, aren’t you?”

“Sometimes it feels that way,” he looks up at the winter sun, jaw casting a shadow on his neck, “here, I’ll walk you home, if you want. I don’t have a tour to wait around here for.”

“You just can’t go a single day without seeing my apartment,” she sighs but starts walking slowly anyway, waiting for him to fall into step beside her. Usually, she’d insist that she doesn’t need anyone to walk her home but being this close to the site of a murder she overheard is making her unusually wary. Not scared, but wary enough to embrace the fact that she feels more comfortable next to Hiccup.

“What can I say? It’s a nice place.”

“It’s a shitty apartment,” she reminds him with a level look and he shrugs, “so, Heather.”

“You know, I wasn’t kidding when I said she usually leaves me alone,” his smile is barely there and about as close to cruel as she thinks his face can get, “must mean she’s really hurting for money.”

“She owns the bar?”

“Her brother does, technically, and they both own Berserker Grimborn tours, where I used to work until Heather stole all of my notes on Trader Johann and started preaching them as truth in her tours.” Hiccup looks at Astrid, ravenous curiosity tinged with blatant respect, “how’d you learn about Johann anyway? I keep meaning to ask.”

“He kept showing up in interviews and his bible advertisements got bigger in the paper after the second murder, like he was making money off of them or something. And it lined up and I hadn’t heard of anyone else suggesting the theory,” she shrugs. The archives feel worlds away, along with the downright aggressive effort she made to solve the Grimborn case and make Hiccup reroute his tour. She blames the lack of sleep and trauma of overhearing a murder for the fact that she’s suddenly so ok with him walking her to her doorstep.

“And the ‘All Safe’ message?”

“I told you, it’s Al. I,” she corrects, “the murder in my apartment wasn’t connected.”

“I love that you have a theory,” he grins and bumps his shoulder against hers, comfortable when it’s about Grimborn, like he had been the night before. It makes her want to ask about him about himself again, just to throw him off. “But I mean the picture, where did you find that?”

“I have a part-time work-study job in the archives.”

“And you just spent a bunch of time combing through Berk Enquirers to find a mythically rare picture?” He’s a tour guide now too, she realizes, weaving the conversation in and out of goalposts on the way to its original destination. He’s not avoiding what he saw last night, he’s leading her to it slowly. She doesn’t like it anymore now than she did on his original tour, she’d rather have all the information at once and work through it herself.

“You don’t get to tease me about that, considering how many hours you put in wearing a top hat and touring special drain locations.” She pauses and gives him her best stern face, “so you got arrested for finding a body?”

“So, you’re back to that,” he runs his hand through his hair, “and I wasn’t teasing you, for the record, I’m honestly really impressed and I’d like to see the original picture at some point, if that’s ok—”

“Maybe, if you’re not in jail for murder since you got arrested for being found with a murder victim.”

“Is that a promise?” He hits a crosswalk button a few extra times. “You’ll let me come see it if I stay out jail for murder?”

“That’s a pretty low bar, but sure, tell me how you plan to accomplish that.”

“The number one thing I have going for me is that I definitely didn’t kill anyone.” He numbers on his hand, “but the number one thing going against me is that the detective on the case happens to be the very same guy that Snotlout has been antagonizing for months, and he didn’t seem to like me very much.”

“That’s worse than being found with the body? I would have thought that would be the number one thing against you.”

“You have met Snotlout, right?” He laughs, leading her to the right and down a street she hasn’t explored yet. It’s not an alley though, thankfully. As safe as she felt last night she can’t say that a recent murder really makes her want to dive back into Berk’s architectural underbelly.

“Barely,” Astrid thinks back to his surprisingly reasonable texts, “and honestly, from my first impression, he’s one of the least crazy people I’ve met since moving back here.”

“I give a daily tour about one serial killer and suddenly it’s ok to call me crazy. Ok, I get it.”

A man steps out of an alley ahead of them, adjusting a dirty backpack over his shoulder and zipping the outermost layer of muddy raincoats he’s wearing. Hiccup doesn’t seem to notice or care, but Astrid pauses, looking back at the nearest crosswalk and debating turning around.

“What’s up?” Hiccup stops a few paces ahead when he realizes she isn’t next to him.

“Nothing, I just…I’m fine,” she brushes off the cold feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Hey Dave!” Hiccup calls out when they get a little further along and the man stops and waves.

“Hiccup, what’s up?”

“I just wanted to let you know that I have umm, a hunch that there might be a bit of increased police activity in the alleys,” he winces as he says it, avoiding ‘murder’ like ‘fire’ in a crowded theater.

“Your cousin tell you that?”

“Something like that.”

“Like I don’t have enough to do avoiding those watch force assholes,” the man shakes his head, “thanks for the heads up.”

“No problem, how’s the leg holding up?”

“Way better than what I had before,” he pulls up his pantleg to reveal a metallic shaft where his lower leg should be, “thanks again, man. He’s a really generous guy,” the man winks at Astrid and she flushes.

“Oh, sorry, I’m being rude. This is Astrid, we umm—she went on some of my tours.” He luckily settles on an explanation that doesn’t falsely proclaim her interest in Viggo Grimborn.

“Nice to meet you,” Astrid nods and Hiccup chats about the weather for another moment before telling Dave he has no cash and continuing their walk back to her apartment. “So, is he a…friend of yours?”

“Not really,” Hiccup shrugs and pauses to pull up his own right pant leg, stunning her with another metal rod. “He’s a couple inches shorter than me and my mid-pubescent leg was a decent fit for him, and it’s not like I was using it.”

“Oh,” Astrid stumbles over her words, “I guess you didn’t reveal your whole tragic past.”

“That’s not tragic,” he brushes his pant cuff back down, “how uncomfortable you were with Dave kind of was, what was up with that?”

“I wasn’t uncomfortable,” she moves closer to the edge of the sidewalk, ignoring curious eyes on the side of her face, “I’m just not used to…people choosing to live in alleys.”

“You can say homeless people,” he scoffs, “it’s not a bad word, but I wouldn’t call it a choice either.”

“I mean, instead of worrying about avoiding some watch force, he could get a job.” Astrid only hears an echo of her dad’s reasonable worldview until Hiccup laughs, unoffended in a way that makes her feel instantly naïve.

“I am not the favored audience of the old ‘get a job’ speech.” He takes another right and she sees the back of her apartment building at the next corner.

“Did you take the scenic route back to my building?” She stops short and crosses her arms, willing herself not to blush when he does.

“We had a lot to get through,” he shrugs, and she should be irritated but she’s not. Ok, maybe she’s a little irritated that he keeps leading her through convoluted mazes without telling her first, but this one in particular is…endearing. He wanted more time with her but didn’t know how to ask.

“I don’t think we did a very good job,” she glances at his leg, “there’s a lot unanswered.”

“Absolutely,” his smile is more cautious than she’d like it to be, “maybe two or three more of these little walks and I’ll actually give you a chance to talk.”

“Oh, you know how to let other people talk? I wouldn’t have guessed that,” she deadpans as they cross the alley behind her building, hoping that her key is going to work in the back door.

“Guess I’ve got to say out of jail then to prove it,” he grins and she’s glad that the door opens when it does, because the lack of sleep is really catching up to her now, making her think she should keep talking to him. That doesn’t make sense at all, especially with him respecting the threshold to her building like he should respect alley gates.

“I hope you’ve got your own reasons for that.”

He shrugs and she’s worried about him again, because he apparently he exists on a constant precipice of doing something really stupid. What she doesn’t understand is why she’s so sure he shouldn’t be allowed to do it alone.

The knock on her door a few minutes later doesn’t surprise her. Astrid assumes it’s just Hiccup following up on coming by the archives or bringing her another awful book. She opens it ready to tell him that, no, walking her home after the slowest, most drawn out explanation of stumbling upon a murder scene does not count as a date, but instead of Hiccup’s nervous face, she sees a badge.

“Oh,” she steps back, taking in the man in an official looking black suit with a narrow tie, tattoo on his chin entirely out of place on his reserved, professional expression.

“Are you Astrid Hofferson?” He asks in a firm, British voice and she nods dumbly, “I’m Detective Eretson with the Berk PD investigating a recent murder case, do you have a minute?”

“Sure,” she waves him inside, glad that Ruffnut isn’t here. Something tells her Detective Eretson would be less understanding of assertions that he takes off his clothes for money than Snotlout apparently was.

“This should be quick, ma’am—”

“Ma’am?” For some reason, that’s funny, forcing a laugh out of her even as anxiety bubbles up in her chest. She’s read too many bungled case reports to trust dealing with cops, and she didn’t enjoy it to begin with.

“Miss,” he clears his throat, suit jacket tight across rigid shoulders. “My apologies—”

“What do you think I have to do with a murder investigation?” She doesn’t know whether she should offer him a seat or take it herself. That and she’s kicking herself over not asking Hiccup whether he told Snotlout about what they’d heard or not. All that Grimborn research was enough practice in keeping a story straight without real life application following it up.

“Do you know Hiccup Haddock?”

“Know might be an overstatement, I know of him.” It’s not a lie, she didn’t know until today that he’s apparently missing a leg. She knows his favorite Grimborn theory, sure, but in what world does that equate to knowing someone?

“Where were you last night?”

“Home, why?” She crosses her arms, leaning back on her heels.

“This morning we received a copy of some closed-circuit security footage from a nearby development,” he pulls a video up on his phone and plays it. The time in the corner reads 4:12am and the grainy black and white footage shows two people in an alley, standing facing each other.

They jump simultaneously at 4:13, the taller person tucking the shorter into his chest, arms protectively around her shoulders.

“If you were at home last night, this isn’t you in this footage, is that correct, miss?”

“You asked where I was last night, not where I was very early this morning,” Astrid uses Hiccup’s line of reasoning and it feels hollow and stupid.

“So, this is you with Hiccup Haddock?”

“Yes,” she admits, “how did you get my name from that grainy video?”

“This morning while in custody, Mr. Haddock claimed that he came across the victim’s body when he was on his way from this address to his house, if this is you in this video, that places him nearly two blocks away at the approximate time of the murder.”

“That doesn’t explain how you got my name, this building has other units in it.” The video is playing on repeat on Eretson’s phone and Astrid keeps glancing back at it, seeing herself step into Hiccup’s arms again and again.

“This is the only unit with a woman’s name on the lease.”

“That would narrow it down.” She watches the video loop one last time and it hits her. The video has no audio, so there’s no way to tell that the scream made them move.

It looks like a date. An awkward date she now suspects is technically trespassing, given the security footage, but it doesn’t tie them to the occurrence of the murder. The lack of recorded scream makes sure they’re only tied to a location adjacent to but not on top of where the murder was occurring.

A minute ago, she wasn’t sure if she was willing to keep a story straight for Hiccup and now, whatever she says next will either confirm an alibi or make him look guilty. What’s even worse is that she could look guilty too, just by proximity, as she’s seen happen so many times.

“Hiccup was giving me a private tour of…the city, I just moved here.” She raises an eyebrow, “but I bet you saw that on the lease.”

“What happened after this footage was taken?” He says ‘footage’ like he feels awkward asking her about a hug, and she’s thankful for that.

“He walked me home and then headed home himself soon after.”

“Alright,” Eretson makes a note in a small notebook and tucks it back in his jacket’s internal pocket, along with his badge. “Thank you for your time, Miss Hofferson.” He hands her a business card, Detective E. Eretson inscribed on the top edge of it in shiny, official blue ink. “If you remember anything else, feel free to let me know, I’ll be in touch if I need anything else from you.”

“Ok,” she opens the front door for him and he nods at her on the way out. “Wait,” she follows him into the hallway, stopping short when he turns around.

“Is there something else?”

“For—were we trespassing? In that video?”

“The development can’t technically press charges, their contracted security force put up cameras watching the borders of their properties without notifying the police.”

“That’s a fancy way of saying yes, but you’re getting away with it, isn’t it?” She crosses her arms and something that could almost be called a smile tugs at the corner of Eretson’s mouth.

“Yes, it is.”

“Ok, well…thanks.”

“Let me know if you think of anything else,” he takes a step backwards and then pauses, “oh, and just be aware, the police should be fully aware of all development border monitoring cameras by the end of the week.”

“I’ll pass that along.”