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midzandrist · 11 days ago

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melodies of the heart ─── huh yunjin.

synopsis: as the weight of the world fades away with each step toward home, you find solace in the warm glow of familiar comforts—and in the loving arms of your girlfriend, whose mere presence transforms the mundane into a magical sanctuary of happiness

warning: none

word count: 2.0k

the day had been intricately woven with moments of calm, each thread more surprising than the last. you found solace in the rhythm of mundane tasks—sorting reports, reading emails, occasionally exchanging pleasantries with colleagues. today, fortunately, had been a fairly quiet day. as you made your way home, you felt an unexpected lightness in your chest, a gentle promise of the evening that lay ahead.

you parked your car, stepping out into the cool air, and fished through your pockets for your apartment keys—ensuring you didn’t lock yourself out again. walking to the door, you felt the familiar weight of your coat, the comforting softness of its fabric against your arms, a shield against the outside world.

once inside, warmth enveloped you like a beloved blanket. you hang your coat on the rack by the door, kicking off your shoes and allowing your bare feet to feel the coolness of the hardwood floor. this was your sanctuary, a place where everything felt right.

making your way to your room, you noticed a sense of excitement bubbling within you; something about returning to her presence always ignited that spark. as you pushed open the door, the scene before you made your breath hitch just slightly.

there she was—yunjin.

sitting on your bed with her legs crossed, she cradled her guitar. the soft melodies wafted through the air, a tapestry of sound threading through the peacefulness of the evening. you chuckle, unable to help it. she looked absolutely gorgeous, with those round glasses perched slightly askew on her nose, as she lost herself in the notes and chords. her focus was fierce, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, but the moment you stepped in, you saw a flicker—something bright, something warm.

“hey! you're home!” she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as they met yours. the smile that blossomed across her face could light up the dimmest room. it was the kind of greeting that wrapped around you, making you feel cherished and grounded all at once.

“hey! i’m home!” you replied, unable to suppress a smile as you stepped closer to her. you leaned against the doorframe, watching as she strummed a few more chords, giving each note its due attention, as if they were precious secrets begging to be revealed.

you sit on the other end of the bed, catching the lingering aroma of her favorite jasmine-scented candle in the air, both soothing and invigorating. like sharing snippets of your day—how the sun set brilliantly through the office windows, how the coffee was stronger than usual, how you’d managed to avoid any office drama—and she listens intently, strumming her guitar absentmindedly.

as you talk, every now and then, she throws in a discordant note, teasing you about your workday’s monotony. “you should have gotten adventurous, maybe staged an office heist!” she laughs, her laughter echoing in your chest like a soft drumbeat. you can't help but chuckle at the idea, shaking your head at the absurdity of it.

“why are you working on your guitar, though?” you finally asked, curiosity bubbling within you. “i thought mondays were for practicing your songs with the group?”

“the ceo decided to give us the day off.” with her fingers still brushing the strings gently, she looks thoughtful. “and i'm working on something for my next comeback. i thought i’d try my hand at writing something fresh for le sserafim.”

a glimmer of admiration surges through you. "is that why you're in deep contemplation? i thought perhaps you were lost in thought over which snack to eat!” you feign seriousness while you give her a grin.

she rolls her eyes dramatically, laughing softly. “oh, stop it!” her laughter only fuels your teasing. “it’s actually quite serious. i want it to be heartfelt, and you know i have to put my soul into my music.”

“you always do,” you say, feeling a swell of pride as you watch her. “anyway, what are you working on?”

yunjin grinned, putting down her guitar for just a moment. “right now, i’m trying to write a new song.” her eyes danced with excitement, her energy infectious. “i want to capture something special. it’s a feeling, you know? i’ve been recording ideas here and there.”

you leaned in closer, intrigued by her passion. yunjin had always had a knack for artistry, creating songs that reflected her heart, songs that thrummed with life and honesty. the way she poured herself into her music was mesmerizing. it made you feel connected to her in ways you never thought possible.

“tell me more," you encouraged, your voice soft, almost conspiratorial. "what ideas do you have?”

yunjin gazes up at the ceiling as if the perfect lyrics are scrawled there. “i have a few ideas, but i’m not sure how they fit yet. longing, love, melancholia… all those clichés people write about.”

“you can’t deny, the best songs are rooted in cliché feelings. if you make it personal, it’ll resonate,” you encourage her, sensing her struggle even if she doesn’t quite realize it.

"and i was thinking," she continued, her voice teasingly playful, “what do you think about an acoustic version of one of le sserafim’s album tracks? wouldn’t that be cool?”

you couldn’t help but laugh. “are you serious? an acoustic version of your group’s songs? just imagine! it would be like trying to recreate the mona lisa with crayons.”

"babe, you've been more cheesy and romantic than usual since i gave you that guitar for our anniversary," your laughter bubbled up, unexpectedly loud, and even yunjin paused to give you a sideways grin, atypical of her usual playful self.

yunjin tilted her head slightly, the way she always did when she was curious or playful. “what? you don’t think it would be good?” she asked, strumming a soft melody over the chords. the sound danced through the air, playful yet reminiscent, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow in the room.

“don’t get me wrong, i think an acoustic version of your group’s songs would sound amazing,” you replied, trying to stifle another laugh. “it’s just… i can’t imagine the crowd at a le sserafim concert suddenly breaking into a campfire sing-along.”

yunjin giggled, a sweet sound that melted through the air like honey. “well, maybe we can start a new trend. what do you think? everyone in the pit with their little guitars, singing along with me? come on, you know that would be so cute!" she insists, shaking her head playfully. "and imagine it—just me and my guitar, stripped down to the soul of the song. it could be magical!"

you shook your head, the image making you laugh harder. “oh, i can picture it. that sounds charming, but i think the fans would be a little confused.”

she rested her guitar against the bed and leaned back, her hair spilling around her like a soft halo, and pouted playfully. “you have no faith in me,” she teased, though you could see the warmth in her eyes.

“but wouldn’t the other members of your group have something to say about it? i mean, you guys are known for your stunning harmonies and choreography. an acoustic version? it feels like removing the icing from a cake."

yunjin sits up a bit straighter, that spark of inspiration in her eyes. "but sometimes, we need to be reminded of the rawness in our art. music is more than just the performance, you know? it’s about emotion, connection… maybe it needs a little vulnerability."

you love that about her—her depth, her understanding of art. it’s one of the many reasons you fell for her in the first place. "i’d love to hear your interpretation—just you and the guitar," you say, genuinely intrigued.

you settled onto the edge of the bed, watching her agile fingers dance on the fretboard as she attempted to weave together something more profound from the fragments in her head. “so, what’s your song about?” you inquired.

yunjin paused, a thoughtful expression taking over her face. “well… i’m still working on the lyrics. i’m trying to capture a feeling—a moment, you know? something about being lost but finding warmth in another person,” she said, her voice suddenly earnest. the words hung in the air like a sweet promise, and you found the atmosphere in the room shifting.

“lost but found… that sounds beautiful,” you responded softly, feeling the significance of her words. “does it have a special inspiration?”

“maybe,” she replied, her gaze meeting yours with a playful sparkle. “but i think it might be a mix of all the people i love, and, of course, the moments we’ve shared. the warmth of home…” she patted beside her, inviting you to sit more closer.

you obliged, shifting to sit cross-legged beside her. “well, as long as i’m in there somewhere,” you teased again, nudging her shoulder playfully. “i wouldn’t want to be the reason you’re expressing something sad!”

she turned her head toward you then, her expression softening. “you’re definitely in there. you’re my ‘warmth in the cold.’”

your heart fluttered at her words as you both shared a moment of comfortable silence, each lost in thought. then, yunjin took a deep breath, her fingers hovering above the strings.

she grins, flipping her hair back over her shoulder dramatically. "okay, then! i’ll give you a sneak peek. but you have to promise not to laugh!"

you place a hand over your heart in mock offense. "how could i laugh at my beloved artist? i’m your number one fan!"

yunjin chuckles, adjusting her glasses before strumming a few chords and letting them fill the room. she closes her eyes as if drawing the moment closer into herself. after a few moments of experimentation, she begins to sing softly, the lyrics flowing effortlessly from her lips. her voice wavers between sweet and melancholic, capturing something deep and haunting.

you watch, entranced, as she pours her heart into those notes, using music to express what words alone cannot. with every strum, the world outside ceases to exist; it’s just her and the song—her sanctuary. you can see her working through an emotion, a thought, finding deeper meaning as she sings.

as the last chord fades, she opens her eyes to find you staring at her, amazed. "what do you think?" she asks, cheeks slightly flushed from the vulnerability of performing for you.

"it was beautiful," you say genuinely, stepping closer to her as you sit on the edge of the bed. "you really captured something there. the lyrics… it felt personal and raw. it’s like you took us on a little journey."

her eyes twinkle, and her lips curl into a smile. "you're the best, you know that? i want to write music that speaks to people, that makes them feel something—and if i can make you feel it, then i’m on the right track."

you grin back, searching for the right words. "you’ve definitely got it. just… remember to take breaks. you’ll burn out if you keep pushing yourself too hard."

yunjin nods, understanding. "i will, i promise. but it’s hard when inspiration hits. sometimes i feel like i need to capture it before it slips away.”

“by the way, you should have a concert with that song when it’s ready. i want the world to hear it.”

“you really think so?” she looks back at you, surprise lighting up her face.

“i know so. you have this incredible way of making feelings come alive with your music,” you gush. “these moments, like this one right now? they deserve to be immortalized in song.”

yunjin’s cheeks flush a tint of pink, and she bites her lower lip, clearly flattered yet humble. “you always know how to make me feel special.”

you step forward, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “that’s because you are special, yunjin. you’re an amazing artist and an even more amazing person.”

her face breaks into a genuine smile, and she wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you down beside her on the bed. “okay, so maybe i’ll write a song about you after all,” she says, cheekily.

“good! because it would definitely be a chart-topper,” you declare, teasingly nudging her.

together, you joke and share stories as the last rays of sunlight fade from the sky, replaced by the soft glow of the lamp. you find comfort in each other’s presence, and for the first time in a while, the world outside fades away. in this little cocoon of warmth, laughter, and music, you feel truly at home.

“… although an acoustic version of sour grapes would be great, wouldn't it?”

“it would be, yunjin.”

#yunjin #yunjin x reader #huh yunjin #huh yunjin x reader #lesserafim x reader #le sserafim #le sserafim x reader #kpop x reader

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anonimusunnoaniswriting · 22 days ago

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This fic contains non-consensual elements. Please do not read, if such content makes you uncomfortable.

AN: Thank you @nanamiscocksleeve for hosting this event. October or Kinktober is a month that I have always wanted to write for but end up not doing so for lack of time and motivation. But this event made me want to push myself. I'm late but I'm here. Thank you for waiting. (Contd. below)

Tw: non con, dark content

Please use this soundscape generator for the full experience

Growing up near the ocean meant you were always aware of just how powerful and dark it was.

The strong arms pulled you to the depths, far below the surface of the water. You cursed yourself. Why had you been so arrogant? You knew the ocean was not an entity to be toyed with. You could feel the oxygen slowly leaving your lungs as your captor swam further and further away from the silver-topped waves.

You regretted everything: wearing this frilly new bikini despite it barely covering your voluptuous curves. Wading out with your friends under the moonlight. Drifting too far before realising you weren't close to them anymore and they would never hear your cries for help.

In the darkness of the night, you were unable to see anything around you but the hand that wrapped itself around your ankle pulling you deep. You were a good swimmer, but this was…

Your lungs started to burn, still the grip on you never loosened. Instead, you felt sharp claws dig into the flesh of your arm. You let out a cry of pain, muffled by the weight of the water, and immediately a pair of cold lips closed over yours, exhaling into you. An acrid salty flavour filled your mouth, and you tried to push your attacker away, but they were far stronger than you, the shackle on your arm tightening further…

You heard your heartbeat pumping in your ears, louder and louder, lungs struggling to hold on. The world around you dissolved into ink. You wanted to hit out, scream, but instead you felt yourself getting weaker and weaker. Your assaulter felt it too, slackening their grip. It didn't matter why you were the one taken or what would happen next. You weren't ready for death. The darkness closed in on you, and then there was nothing…

*****

When you woke, you were still surrounded by water in all directions, but the lack of light didn’t bother you as much as before. Even through the ultramarine gloom, you could recognise the vague shapes of coral and—

A soft swish of water moving attracted your attention. You whipped your head around and inhaled sharply—you could breathe? How? The water in your lungs should’ve killed you by now.

Still adjusting to the changes in your body, you watched as a strange figure approached you. This must have been the one who took you away from the surface—only, they weren't quite human.

Legend spoke of the existence of creatures of the deep: not quite man, not quite fish, but something else entirely. Merpeople…a merman. These were, of course, brushed off as old wives’ tales that did not hold any weight. But swimming before your eyes was the very legend himself.

His long dark hair flowed with the gentle current as he hovered in front of you. A wicked smile was plastered on his face, sharp white teeth gleaming contrastingly. Your breath hitched and you lowered your gaze— as though some force beyond your control was pushing you down.

The merman was adorned in strings of pearls and other precious stones but wore little else. A long sapphire tail swished below your feet, swooping under you and pulling you closer to him. Extending a scaled webbed hand, he caressed your cheek, sharp claws instead of nails trailing down your jaw like a warning. Glinting gold threads ran down his finned back and travelled down to the end of his tail.

Good. A rumbling voice in your head jolted you out of your stupor. I feared you would sleep through this.

Writhing in the merman’s grasp, you desperately tried to find the source of this strange voice, but there was no other living being in sight. The finger trailing down the side of your face dipped to your collarbone and slid down to the swell of your breasts. You shivered at the touch—in fear or in anticipation?

The hand squeezed your breast, making you jump, and the creature hissed in response: I can smell your fear and you smell divine…

He pulled at the strings holding your bikini top together, and it fell away with no effort, your nipples hardening from the chill and the merman’s touch; instinctively, you moved to cover your breasts with your hands and pushed the merman away.

In the dark water, the flimsy top floated away, settling on to a rock below. You remembered your friends calling the swimsuit sexy in the shop and insisted on you buying it because what man could resist?

Turns out it was not just human men…

SLAP!

Your cheek stung, the webbed hand held up threateningly:

Behave, human.

You cowered and cupped your cheek — hot to the touch despite the cold ocean water — trapped in the grip of this merman’s tail. Another set of fingers touched you now, hands running up and down your body, exploring every inch of skin, each fold, given its due diligence. You suppressed the urge to cover up, your smarting cheek the only reminder needed to stop yourself.

The smile on your abductor's face widened, rows of sharp teeth glittering in a wicked mirth. He used his tail to push between your legs now, rubbing against your thighs. His scales grazed your skin, and for a moment, for one horrible, tempting moment, you wondered what they'd feel like against your core.

As if he had heard your thoughts, the merman delicately pulled the strings tying the bottom half of your bikini. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched the orange strip of fabric fall to the ocean floor, joining the matching top nearby, but you were much more focused on how the merman’s hand had begun to drift between your thighs.

Unfamiliar territory, but he knew where to touch, slipping his fingers between your folds. A swipe – then a taste, flicking his tongue in excitement. He threw his head back, relishing the flavour.

Sweet.

A muffled moan passed your lips. No, you wanted to say. Why? You wanted to cry out. It shouldn’t have felt so good.

There was a chuckle from the merman before he swam down, face right at your cunt, but this was more than you had bargained for. You immediately pulled your legs together and pushed away from him, kicking your feet to swim upwards. Whatever he wanted, he wouldn't get it so easily.

You had to go up. Up would mean the surface. You would be free. Up would mean…

The merman watched you swim away slowly, following without a sound. You swam well, but he was faster. The swell of your ass and bouncing tits made his cock stir. What had once been driven by curiosity was now being driven by…hunger.

Seeing his silhouette approach, you cried out, but there was nothing to be done. He extended an arm and wrapped it around your waist, pulling you to him. You struggled and pounded your fists against his firm chest, bubbles escaping your mouth where there should have been sound. Unfortunately for you, it only served to heighten his hunger.

The merman had never held a body like yours: soft, pudgy flesh that dipped into enticing contours, full rounded breasts that hung like the fruits of Eden. Arms thick and muscular, tanned by the warmth of the sun's rays. And petal-like lips that pulled into a frown of disapproval.

You continued to struggle, but his grip remained steady. Ignoring your wriggling protests, he flicked his tongue between your breasts, trailing it down your chest and soft tummy till he reached your crotch once again.

Be good.

You jolted as his tongue snaked out and rubbed against your clit. He wasn’t—he couldn’t—

Sweet…

Strong arms parted your legs this time, holding you in place by your ass. Trying to escape was futile – all you could do was whimper helplessly. The merman’s tongue lapped at your pussy— slow flicks that took their time to explore you fully. He knew what he was doing. His lips found your clit and closed over the small bud, softly sucking on it. You squeezed the merman’s head between your thighs as your head fell back, soundless moans escaping you and disappearing into the darkness above. You could feel nothing else in this damp, muffled existence. Only him.

Filled with loathing and pleasure, you reached down, carding your fingers through his silky hair, pushing your hips into his face, further and further as he smiled against your skin, his hunger only growing with each lick and taste. You should have pushed away. You longed to do so still. And yet, you pushed into him more and more as his claws dug into your skin.

Geto. The voice came once again creeping into your mind soft as a spiders web. Say my name. Say it.

“Geto!” You cried out, almost like a prayer. The name drifted upwards through the sea and towards the sky somewhere far above. Your orgasm drew closer, effectively pulled from your tightening core. The merman felt you squirm and kept going, unwavering: tongue almost flat against your pussy, licking thick stripes from the bottom to your clit. Two webbed fingers found their way to your opening, pushing into you roughly. The fingers curled inside as he sucked on your clit once more.

You squeezed your eyes shut. This was wrong. It was so wrong. But it felt so good. How? It didn’t make any sense! You’d never felt such ecstasy in your life, falling apart in the arms of this monster known only in legend, your legs spread wide as the creature made sure his teeth didn't pierce the soft flesh, pleasure heightening with each continued touch.

Without warning, your climax hit you, wracking through your body and making you spasm and quiver in the merman’s hold. Hips bucking into his face, you rode out your desperate orgasm, feeling every touch Geto made with his tongue and fingers. The water rippled around you, scaring away a school of small fish.

Geto swam up to your eye level once again, examining you carefully as you twitched and shuddered through your orgasm. He gently placed your arms around his neck, waiting for you to finish.

Good?

You nodded in response; it wasn't like you could hide your glazed-over eyes, still coming down from the involuntary high. It had been the merman who had drawn the arrow, and made sure of its well-aimed release, the same merman who now pulled you in for a searing kiss.

His lips were icy-cold - a striking contrast against yours. Yet he kissed with a ferociousness that threatened to consume you whole. “Geto…” You moaned against his mouth, the vibrations of sound the only other sensation you could feel apart from his lips. He only responded with a hum: a rumbling melody that cut through the waters. His hips pushed up against you and you looked down. Through a small slit in his tail, his cock stood at attention. Unlike any human anatomy, it seemed the ocean had had its way here. In spite of yourself, you studied the appendage, observing it just long enough for Geto to notice. It was longer than any you had seen before, but not very thick. The tip was pointed and not round, but didn't seem like it'd be painful. It matched the colour of his scales, gold threads running all the way around it like veins.

A hand encircled your throat, drawing your gaze back to his face: a beautiful prince of the ocean draped in glittering jewels, silky black hair that the current played with, dark amethyst eyes that did not leave you even once. What was there to fear, to doubt? Any apprehensions you might have had drifted into the impenetrable waters, carried away by the waves. You laced your fingers behind his head, and he pressed against your body, scales rubbing against your skin. His cock-head prodded at your fat thighs and you spread your legs of your own accord this time, allowing it to slip in. The water helped, almost as though a living being itself, allowing him to pull you further onto his length.

His lips met your throat now, gently pressing soft kisses against the thin skin.

Warm…You are beautiful. And you are mine.

You nodded. His. You would be his. There was no denying it.

Geto’s cock now bottomed out in you. Still raw from your climax, your insides twitched at the sensation. It was so new. So different. It was as if someone else had taken over your body, making you react in ways that you’d never imagined. Who was this person inside you, moaning and pushing yourself closer to him? Who had you become?

His broad chest pressed against your breasts, and you moaned at the sensation of him grazing your nipples ever so slightly. Your fingers found the fin on the merman’s back and you ran the top down its arch, drawing out a hiss from his lips. He thrust up in response, and you cried out at the sudden feeling of his cock hitting your cervix. He grinned at you again with those rows of shark-like teeth – threatening despite his smile. His arms around your waist, he manoeuvred your body according to his will, slamming you onto his cock repeatedly, each thrust sending you further and further into blissful stupor. Your head dropped into the crook of his neck, hair tangling with his. But he did not stop, thrusting faster and harder. He could feel the jiggle of your body against his, and it drove him insane with need. Fat flesh, full tits, thick ass — you had been the perfect choice. Everything he could ever dream of. He never wanted to let you go.

Geto chased his release, desperate to fill your cunt with his seed. The effect of the potion he had slipped into you earlier would wear off soon, and he had to get you back to the surface before it was too late. His thrusts grew sloppier, more erratic, as he continued pumping in you, fingers tangled in your hair as another hand held your waist. Your soft mewls and moans - which he could hear, even if you couldn’t - spurred him on further, and with a deep groan he spilled into you, pressing you as close to him as possible. He would not waste a single drop.

When he was finished, Geto pulled your head close to his, kissing you again. Good human. You did so well.

You smiled at his praise. You did well for him, and it filled your heart with joy and relief. But a nagging feeling told you it wasn't right. You shouldn't have. You didn't belong here.

Geto held your arm once again and swam, this time towards the surface. “Geto…?” You carefully called out, your body feeling heavier by the second. He hummed once again, but you couldn't think of something to say.

The water rushed past the two of you as he swam faster with you in his arms, the current of the ocean almost passing through you. Your chest began to burn, and it was so much harder to breathe. Around you, the ocean darkened, the burning sensation spreading through your lungs. “No,” you gasped, but nothing came out. You grabbed onto the merman’s arm, desperate to tell him somehow, but he only swam faster. Whatever little you could see of him was blurry, the ocean calling you back down despite how close you were to the sky again. Your surroundings faded from sight and you kicked at the water in a futile attempt to reach air. The last thing you felt before blacking out was Geto pulling you into his embrace as he continued the climb to the surface.

******

You came to on a secluded patch of your hometown beach. The sun had just started to rise above the horizon, the sky turning lighter and lighter as you coughed up salt water onto the wet sand. It burned in your throat, and you had never been more thankful for the oxygen that filled your lungs now. You were wearing your bikini again, but you remembered it drifting away in the deep. Had it all been a dream? Had you just drowned under a wave and been regurgitated back by the sea?

You sat up slowly, looking out at the grey morning waves. In the distance there was a flash of a brilliant blue. Your heart jumped in your chest, and you clutched at the pearls around your throat…pearls around your throat…

A reminder. A promise. A warning.

MINE.

AN: This fic would not have seen the light of day if it wasn't for @ominouslywritinginmyhead. Not only did she rewrite whole chunks of garbled prose, she also encouraged me gently to overcome my blocks and finally finish the bastard. Thank you for taking the time to look over it with such haste even giving up your Halloween party with Toji cosplayers to help my smutty literature. Thank you for your support and your love. I couldn't have done it without you Saber.

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julemmaes · 1 year ago

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Always Been You

Nesta Archeron x Cassian, ~2.5k words

a/n: I saw a reel of a baby and this was born, it's trash but I love them, so enjoy!

"Sweetheart, do you know where my sweater is?! The black one?"

Cassian was rummaging through his wardrobe in desperate need of something heavy to wear in the frigid winter Velaris was hitting them with.

Nesta's robotic voice came from the speaker of his phone, hidden somewhere between his bed sheets. "Uh, might be here, actually."

Here, as in her place. On the other side of the city. More than half an hour from his flat.

He groaned, bending his head forward and halting his hunt.

"Care to tell me why yet another piece of clothing of mine is at yours?"

Nesta chuckled, rejoicing in his despair. He glared at the phone, thankful that his best friend couldn't see him and level him with an equally nasty look.

Her words came muffled this time, more distant, and Cassian knew he'd put him on speaker.

"Not my fault this time. You used it to wrap Little Miss Sunshine up," he couldn't help the smile at the nickname he used to call her daughter. "You claimed she was gonna be too cold on the oh so long way from your car to the door."

"Sounds like something I would do," he muttered to himself, a dopey grin on his lips still. He loved that little nug of happiness that was Nesta's daughter. He loved her as if she were his own.

He shook his head, focusing on the date ahead, and put on another sweater, of a light brown colour he despised, and shook out his duvet, fishing for the phone.

Turning off the speaker, he put it to his ear, "You think I could pass by after the pub?"

Nesta only hummed, seeming distracted.

A few beat of silence, "What is the girl's name again?"

Cassian clenched his jaw, pondering whether he should lie or not, and knowing full well that if he gave Nesta too much information she would stalk the poor lady till sunrise.

"Her name is Anne," he lied.

"Liar," she scoffed. Then she grunted, "Whatever, keep your secrets. But don't come crying to me when you'll find out she has a secret dark past as a pig slaughterer."

Cassian laughed, "You're so dramatic."

"And you love it." She couldn't even begin to understand just how true those words were. "Now leave me alone before you're late to the party."

Nesta didn't give him the time to say goodbye that she'd hung up.

***

Slamming the door and closing himself shut in his precious, silent car, Cassian finally got to open his texts app and check what Nesta had sent him mere minutes before.

The date hadn't gone terribly, but Lidia was not his type. And he wasn't hers.

That had been starkly clear after the first fifteen minutes they'd spent talking about a new friend of hers, a certain Ruhn that she'd been crushing on for a while now.

He was her type. He and him only.

She had apologised, and Cassian had laughed, confessing that he had been forced into this date by his brothers, who were so over seeing him brooding because he was single and they were married and with kids.

Their words, not his.

Because in reality, Cassian was happy.

He was happy waiting for his friend to notice he was there for her, when she decided she was gonna have him.

He was happy splitting his time between his own apartment and Nesta's, whenever Logan requested his presence. Which nowadays bordered on always.

Exactly why he wasn't surprised when, opening his thread with Nesta, he found a video of the little girl, now almost one year and a half old.

A weak smile blossomed on his face as he clicked on it.

Nesta was lying on her side, her right arm under Little Lo's head and the baby was looking up at the ceiling, probably staring at the bioluminescent stars he had glued there.

He didn't press play immediately, because the picture of his best friend's half face was too distracting.

Nesta wasn't even fully in the frame, but Cassian wasn't seeing anything else. Her lips were tugged on a corner, a half smile there as she cuddled with her daughter. Her nose glimmered with moisturizing cream, something he knew she put on every night before bed. Her eyes were hidden, out of the picture.

He could have killed, if it meant the promise of tracing his finger down the nape of her perfect nose, to her lips and chin. Of caressing her jaw, holding her face in his hands.

He would have killed to taste those lips, even once.

Taking a deep breath and pretending he wasn't unsettled by the mere thought of touching Nesta, he pressed play and his heart clenched in his chest.

"Da-da, dada, da-da-da-da," Logan was simply calling out for him, basically whispering in the quiet room, brushing her fingers on her lips. "Dadadadada, dada."

His eyes stung lightly and his pinched the tip of his nose, reigning in his emotions.

The little girl turned to the phone once she noticed her mom was recording her and the smile she gave him ended him. Lo yawned in the most cute and tiny way on video and Cassian's stomach tightened to the point of pain.

He loved her.

She smacked the phone from Nesta's hand, calling for her dada once again and everything went black for a few seconds.

The moment colours and pictures came back up, it was Nesta's face smiling at him, now sitting with a writhing Lo saying his name over and over again.

Nesta tilted her head to the side, avoiding being smacked in the face by the baby, "I need you to come here asap. This little beast won't go to bed unless she hears her favourite uncle's lullaby."

Uncle.

The video ended with an otherworldly screech from Logan and Cassian turned off the screen, throwing the phone on the seat, a weird kind of sorrow pulling at his heart.

Uncle.

Nesta had this bad habit of calling him uncle whenever Logan insisted on calling him dada, or dad, or any other way that pointed to the girl thinking he was her father.

And he couldn't be mad. Fuck, he couldn't do shit about it if not accepting the fact that that was the truth.

Logan wasn't his daughter and the only reason they had stopped trying to make her call him anything but dada was because of the meltdowns she had whenever they did.

She was definitely too little still to understand what they were saying, but she rejected the idea anyway. It was like trying to take her favourite toy away.

Putting the car in reverse, he drove out of the parking spot and on the road, hoping Lo would still be awake once he got to their house.

He tried to keep his thoughts at bay as much as he could, failing miserably.

Cassian wanted in on their life. Cassian wanted to be part of it, every morning he wanted to wake up next to them and love them the way they deserved all day long and at night he wanted to hold them tightly to him and fall asleep again. And do it all over again the next day.

For the rest of his life.

He didn't have a single dream or goal that topped this one.

And he was so tired to pretend anything else was more important to him.

***

He cupped the chubby rosy cheek with his palm, passing his thumb over her eyebrow over and over again, watching the way her tiny, tiny lips moved in her sleep, as if she was latching. Logan's little body twitched in his arms, and Cassian repositioned, hoping not to disturb her too much.

Her minuscule hand clutched his shirt and she rubbed her face in the niche of his elbow.

He lowered just enough to place a kiss on her forehead and the small sigh she released did something to him.

He was so focused on memorizing every little detail on her baby face—knowing perfectly well how fast she was growing—that he hadn't noticed Nesta standing just outside the nursery door.

"I'm happy she has you," she whispered.

Cassian didn't look up from Logan, too afraid of his own feelings, which were riding rampant in his mind tonight.

"I'm glad she..." Nesta paused, drew a deep breath and stepped inside. She sat next to him on the fluffy couch and pulled her legs up to her chest.

He hoped she didn't feel him tense when she leaned against him, her head on his shoulder as she put her hand on Logan's belly.

"I'm glad she can count on somebody else. That is not me."

Cassian paused his face massage, sliding his hand under Logan's head and moving so her neck wasn't straining. He fixed his gaze on the floor, not daring moving a muscle.

"Sometimes I think I'm fucking everything up by not actively looking for someone that would step up as her dad, but–"

Nesta moved again, pressing closer to him, moving her hand from Lo to his arm. He knew that if he looked at her, even if he just turned her way, he would kiss her.

When she spoke again, her voice was trembling slightly and Cassian's heart was threatening beating out of his chest.

"What I'm trying to say is, thank you. For being here for her."

He stayed silent, not knowing what to say. He just resumed tracing lines on Lo's cheekbones, something that never failed to soothe her before bed and that knocked her out almost immediately.

It was a long time before he found the courage to talk.

"Nesta, I–"

Or maybe not.

What if he fucked everything up?

What if he was reading her wrong, and all of this was just in his head?

"Yes, Cassian?" She whispered.

He took a shaking breath, closing his eyes, and said, "I don't wanna be her uncle."

The words were out now. And he couldn't seem to be able to stop them.

"And I don't want you to text me during a date that you can't get her to sleep because she needs me to sing to her. I don't wanna have to drive all the way down here every other day because you might need something from me. And it's frustrating when I'm at home and I wanna eat something, just to remember that I bought it for your place and not mine. And don't even get me started on my clothes. Half of my wardrobe is in this house, as far as I know."

Nesta retracted from him so fast that his head whipped her way. He missed her warmth on the spot.

She was looking at him like she'd hit her. Her brow was furrowed and her eyes were shiny, watering with unshed tears.

His throat closed, "Nes, what–"

"I'm sorry we're such a fucking problem to you," she hissed, doing a piss poor job at hiding the hurt.

Cassian's eyes widened with horror, "Problem? What are you talking about?"

She didn't give any sign she'd heard him, "If it's such a pain in your ass driving here just to make her happy, then don't. I annoy you with my texts, I'll stop texting, no big deal." She was heaving now, emotion and exhaustion from a long day taking over. "And you can get your food and your clothes and get the fuck out of here and never come back for all I care. But you could've told me sooner that we were such a bother to you, I'd have kept her from getting so attached."

Cassian was moving before he knew what he was doing.

One second he was on one side of the couch, looking baffled and confused for all the shit that she was spitting at him, the next he was on her, Logan's body close to his chest as he lunged for Nesta's lips.

He moved his hand to her hair, sliding his fingers to the back of her neck, pushing her towards him. He closed his eyes, savouring the plush touch of her mouth on his for the first time.

Taking in everything she was giving him.

Nesta didn't react immediately, but as soon as she realized what was happening she melted into the kiss, backing away slightly before going back for more.

Her hands went to his face, cradling his neck and bringing him impossibly closer to her, as much as she could without hurting her daughter, and Cassian soared.

They both lost track of time before they stopped, never going far. Nesta pushed her forehead against his, brushing her nose sweetly to his.

"Explain," she breathed out.

He chuckled, stunned, "I want her to call me dad, dada, daddy, whatever she prefers. I wanna be there for her, I'm happy to be there for her." He started, leaving a kiss on her lips.

Nesta turned her head sideways, keeping the contact with him, "Focus."

"I hate driving up here every day because I wish I didn't have to go back to my house. It's just another reminder that I'm a guest, someone that is temporarily here.

"I forget I bought food and brought it here because I eat basically all of my meals with you girls, and I want the entirety of my wardrobe to be in this home. I hate going back there. It's lonely. And I want to be here. All the time.

"I want this to be my permanent home. I want you to be my permanent home."

Nesta was keeping her eyes closed, but a tear was running down her cheek. He swiped it away with a thumb, and then passed his fingertip to her lips.

"Cassian," she said.

He kissed her again, a slow, full-of-love peck on her lips.

He inhaled, "I love you, Nesta, and there's literally no other place I'd rather be, than here with you and Logan."

She opened her eyes then and let him in, at last. She let him see the love there, the wanting and longing that had been eating at them both for years.

But they were done running.

"It's always been you," she said, running a soft hand down his cheek.

Cassian nodded, nuzzling her palm, "It's always been you."

acotar tag list (if you wanna be added or removed just dm me or send an ask)

@my-fan-side @superspiritfestival @simpingfornestaarcheron @the-regal-warrior @princess-rumi-blog1 @live-the-fangirl-life @sayosdreams @rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @bookstantrash @lordof-bloodshed @nahthanks @sannelovesreading @courtofjurdan @imagine-me @moodymelanist @dread3r @sv0430 @mariamuses @leiawritesstories @thewayshedreamed @duskandstarlight @letstakethedawn @perseusannabeth

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #nesta has a kid cause you all know I clearly have issues with kids fics #domestic fluff #slight angst very slight compared to my usual

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gingermintpepper · 1 month ago

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🌈 or 🌥️ (or both if you're feeling it)

EHEHE thank you very much for the ask! Gonna mix both prompts and give something soft with my favourite dialogue of this piece (and it's not even a wip actually, this is just a completed bit of writing I have on hand that I'm not really planning on doing anything with) which asks the question I'm pretty sure only I have asked: what if Apollo was the one to tell Heracles that he had to head to the Underworld after he'd lost Hylas during the Argo Expedition (also he consoles him a little).

"It'll never get easier, will it? This life."

Phoebus Apollo doesn't answer him. Before, Heracles would've blamed it on ego, the vanity of the gods who think themselves so much better than the mortals they yank about with their power. Now, Heracles thinks he's just a figment of his imagination, another twisted trick brought on by that bitch of the Heavens. The silence stretches on and on, only the sound of his digging and the quiet rustle of fabric fills the space between them. Were Hylas still here, he'd happily fill this stale air, nattering on and on about herbs or the colour of the fish in the lake, or the beauty of the stars between the treetops. Now, the silence is oppressive. Dense. Like the weight of water pushing all the air from his lungs.

Heracles quickly takes the bundle of Hylas' meagre things and throws it into the hole. Best not to dwell on it. Especially not when an Olympian was right beside him. (Maybe it's a good thing that this illusion is so placid. Gives him space to breathe. To think.)

He spits, picks up the flint. "Can't answer that one either? How about an easier question then," the sparks catch on the edge of Hylas' silk belt, quickly eating up the precious gift. Hylas only got to wear it once when they'd celebrated the night before the Argo set sail. He'd wanted to bring it home for his mother. "Was I also cursed to be alone for the rest of my life? It's not enough that she took my family, she's going to take everyone that treats me well too?"

Phoebus Apollo remains silent, fire turning his body warm gold. Heracles clicks his tongue, anger mounting. First Megara then Pholus and now Hylas. Man, woman, beast, it didn't matter at all, did it? All would die if they loved him. Everything would melt away like ash on his tongue and she would keep him alive just to see him squirm.

"Don't just sit there fiddling with your cloth damn it, answer me!"

Phoebus Apollo looks up then. Eyes so gold they seem to burn their own colour, calm brow, stern lips. This wasn't the playful god who refused to let him take his sister's hind without proving his worth, nor was it the distant prophet outlining the sentence for his crimes. This was someone, something else entirely and Heracles can only swallow his tongue in the face of it.

"Come," he beckons with the slightest tilt of his chin, "sit here." Heracles does. "You ask difficult questions. Ones I have no intention of answering." Slender fingers do not falter in their sewing. Heracles watches all the fine bracelets and rings jostle only slightly as the god makes his stitches. "For that, I must apologise."

Heracles snorts, dismissive and looks out into Hylas' fire, "You lot have never cared to inconvenience me before. What is one more disappointment to add to pile?"

A grim smile dances at the edge of his painted lips, "What, indeed."

"If you aren't here to answer my prayers, then you must have another errand for me." And doesn't that just make his blood boil? Even now, when Hylas' pyre has not yet burnt out, the gods still demand more from him, still drive him harder. He digs his nails into the tooth of the rock they share, hopes it is enough to keep him from laying hands on his divine slave-driver's throat and ripping it right out. "Make it quick. Even you must understand the rules of mourning."

Phoebus Apollo's smile widens. He ties off his thread and cuts the excess length with the side of his fingernail. "On the contrary, I've come bearing a gift." Unfurling the length of cloth reveals a gorgeous chamlys, etchings like constellations dotting its dark length and shimmering even in the firelight. "A gift and a word of warning"

Heracles swallows thickly, such rich cloth would surely need to be hidden from his cousins. "If you think a fancy cloak is enough to gloss everything over -"

A laugh, soft and musical. Lighter than Hylas' chuckles, sweeter even than Megara's hidden giggles. How dangerous. How lovely. "Alcides, be calm. I have nothing to hide and there is nothing you could possibly give to me. You already have my gratitude for not harming my offspring, it would please me greatly if you also accepted my boon."

"The cloth is hexed?" It feels no different from a usual chamlys, maybe just a bit softer. Phoebus Apollo laughs again, richer this time so that it resonates in the very base of Heracles' bones and sends little electric sparks shooting all across his body.

"Indeed. It will keep you hidden from the eyes of the Lord and Lady of the Underworld. Do take it with you when next you set foot in their kingdom."

A terrible chill slithers down his back. Hylas' fire pops. "What's the meaning of this?" And Heracles forgets himself, digs his hands into the lush fabric of the god's chiton and wrests him close, "You think it's funny delivering my funeral gown now? When Hylas' body hasn't even cooled?"

Phoebus Apollo hums, brilliant eyes gazing calmly up at him, "I think it should be a great boon if ever your spirit wishes to wander in the great fields of Asphodel should you make the trip."

#cutting myself off there because like I would genuinely just paste the whole damn thing in there #I love pretty much ALL the dialogue in this piece but like I said I have no idea what to do with it #ginger answers asks #ginger writes #There's like zero market for Apollo/Heracles content cause afaik no one really thinks about them together #which like y'know demonstrably crazy to me considering how close the greeks thought they were #yes this is me acknowledging the alt geminis like Apollo and Heracles and Triptolemus and Iasion #but no to me Apollo and Heracles are the true counterparts #like Apollo and Heracles is what people think Apollo and Achilles is I said what I said #this whole idea of Apollo having heart to hearts with Heracles throughout his labours is one that is very self indulgent #and very comforting to me #anyway TEEHEE THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME BLABBER #definitely much longer than a snippet but I'm justifying it by saying that it was two prompts in one 🤧#apollo #heracles #writing #greek myth writing

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oncewhenalongtimeago · 4 months ago

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love the duality of just like magic. readers living in a cute cottagecore story and hiccup is living in an eldritch fantasy without the horror with powers beyond his comprehension beyond every turn, be it dragon, or the cute girl who just Appeared one day. looking forward to see what you do with it :]

Just Like Magic pt 3

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Reader

Words: 7,849

Hiccup goes into shock.

Tags: Witch!reader, optimistic/cheery reader, female reader, httyd 1, fluff, unedited

<Previous -

Hiccup... Forger. The Chief’s son?

He was an odd boy, sort of stiff and twitchy, with a red, nearly burned-looking face.

You thought it could have something to do with the orange light flickering from inside his smith’s hovel. Maybe he’d spent too long by the fire. His hair, too, was decently full of soot, more dark in the front and over the top than by the back, where it stood up brighter than the rest, as if he’d fallen asleep on his face in a pile of soot, which was nearly funny.

You couldn’t tell the difference between freckle or smudge, what with the layer of film on his cheeks and the darkness being so thick- he probably hadn’t noticed it at all, if he was a smith’s apprentice, too used to it. He didn’t look like he did.

You wanted to hum with mirth, fingers threading twine into simple loops over loops in a wide array.

The name barely registered with you at all then and you couldn’t find too much of a reason to mind now. You weren’t even sure if he was the right ‘Hiccup.’ After all, it wasn’t a very uncommon name on Berk.

You sighed as you shifted, the drop in temperature and the feel of running weight the only sign that anything was there, cool liquid shifting over your feet as they rested in the water.

Past the heavy cloth of your waist wrap you felt the many bumpy edges of water-worn rock pressing into your bottom, one rim of a set of very shallow tide pools at the edge of a beautiful blue-green water.

You only carried your net, a comb attached to your belt besides, something you used to untie string occasionally, and the baubles attached to your person.

Your toes pressed lightly into silt-sand as you tied a knot with two fingers, closing the end of your mesh.

You looked down at it, satisfied.

The twine you’d used to make it was perhaps a tad thinner than was needed to make something sturdy, though you were guilty of doing that on purpose. You enjoyed making the nets, weaving strings simply, mindlessly.

Habitually, you ran your finger along the charms around your wrists, most of which usually spent their time pinned and hugging belts and sleeves until you could find the right hands to hold them and to wear them.

There weren’t so many today, too warm to weight down your wrists with thick numbers of beads and weave, though you carried a few- two lucky pearls securely wrapped in green thread and a tabby-weave twill in the diamond pattern, illusionistic squares in yellows, reds and blues traveling up its length.

One of the pearls- you could gift it to Inga. It might uplift her spirits even if it wouldn’t sell in the markets, or maybe you could give it to Bo, who had gray eyes which took on light in a way that reminded you of it, though you were loathe to give the absurd man such a sentimental item.

You could try Ase, who was never not eager for a precious thing, though she was prone to brag about it, a huge fan of anything Viking-crafted in the special style, with her own rows of necklaces attached to brooches and cloaks resting in her home, hanging from wooden hooks and racks along rafters. It didn’t feel right, though.

Picking at the knot holding the twill to your sleeve, you unraveled it and pulled its loop through one of your net’s. At that moment, you decided- It would be something interesting for the fish. A lure, not that you needed one.

You smiled again as you finished tying the tassel tightly into your net.

When the Gronkle had rushed him, he hadn’t been thinking- he hadn’t been sure whether he would live or die. He wasn’t thinking of anything more than the fact that the dragon was there and it was rearing, probably the result of one too many close brushes with death.

His whole life had been defined by a run from deadly dragons. He’d gotten more bruises and gashes than he could count. The Gronkle was vicious, angered, bloodlusted-

“Dragons always go for the kill.” They always, always went for the kill. Gobber said…

Boots digging into and flopping out of the sand as he walked, Hiccup grimaced, bringing his hand down from where he’d brushed it past his chin, still quite depressingly free of peachy hair. “Dragons…”

His boots- even if he was careful, he knew he would find sand in them later.

His arm flopped even as he left his other lightly clutching at his elbow so that it rested at an awkward angle as he finally looked up and took a large breath.

He blinked his eyes open slowly, with a slight drowsy, feeling slightly sun-drunk and pleasant despite his troubles.

If he hadn’t known what ale tasted like, or honey mead, he’d have assumed this was it.

“Oh.”

For the second time, he was surprised by his surroundings, though this time his circumstances could not be excused so easily by coincidence.

It was something out of a fantasy- It had to be something from a dream.

He’d known he was on a beach, though it hadn’t been so…. Pleasant-looking the last he’d looked, and he was sure at some point that it had turned back to forest, though he hadn’t yet begun his hike back up.

He was unsure how or when he’d gotten this far at all- he’d just been on recess, and he still had to be back by sundown, before Gobber would gather the lot of them all up at dinner for study.

It was a narrow stretch of beach with a set of tide pools and a sheer cliff face behind, with water that was clear and inviting, moving slowly and without the thick passion of the deep blues that crashed violently against and assaulted the island’s sides.

The cliffs were tall enough to nearly reach the sun, to cause vertigo and to have his neck touching neck and head aching as he peered back and yet it was positioned at the wrong angle to cast any sort of huge, imposing, never-ending shadow.

It was nice.

He usually felt small in the shadow of such gigantic things, which was always brought to its worst whenever he’d been left to his own in the Great Hall in the times when there was nothing but a single torch to light his way, base longer than his arm and yet still not bright enough to give him more than a few feet of visibility and when it was just him and the statues.

They were large, staggering, carrying the likenesses of each Chief that had come before his Father. Overcast by their cold, cold shadow, worse than any whipping, violent, snowing night, Hiccup always felt something a little bit like fear and a lot more like dread.

Their circular, simplistic eyes, larger than two of his heads turned to one. They seemed the most alive then, the most imposing, the most judgemental, the most soul-seeing- and they always found him lacking. They were guardians of legacy, all part of an array, one Hiccup knew he would never join as a blacksmith’s apprentice.

Berk had a few beaches yet none nearly as nice as this, so beautiful and impossible to find using anything but feeling alone. He was sure there was not a single other Viking who’d ever touched its shores.

Too bad Hiccup wasn’t at all in the mood to enjoy it.

He scratched along his jaw with one hand again, catching painfully on a sore spot there- whether it was a blemish or a burn, he wasn’t sure, but the catch and the dull, full-to-soreness feeling there led him to believe it was a blemish.

It was what he got for spending so long in the forge, though he was not particularly bothered enough to care.

Looking back, where pretty weeds and saturated grasses began to sprout from the sand, there was the forest and a set of ferns a lot longer and fuller than he’d ever remembered passing through, his hands to his sides the whole time. They were large enough to obscure the view back into the forest, with its thick trees and nearly tropical, foreign foliage, with long sprouts and oddly tear-shaped leafed vines.

Some of these plants shouldn’t have grown all together, he was sure, and yet they did in plenty.

He spotted in the treeline what could have been a Medlar, his eyes drifting as, half crouched, he slowly turned back around, the flat pads of his boots lightly shifting against the sand.

Sprouting from the cliffs where jagged rock and sand touched was a plant which looked like a broom with most of its brussels picked all out of it or a burnt scalp with only a few thin hairs poking from the top. Its leaves looked like they came from the thin stems of a real vine, with three parts, jagged-looking edges and yellow clover buds at the end.

Hiccup squinted.

He wasn’t so good at naming plants, though he was sure this something began with a ‘t,’ though the name eluded him. It was something ferocious, though its purpose was much more humbling. Tormenter- torment…

Berk’s healers had been very local about the need- he could bring it back to the village for Gothi and the rest. He would not be hailed with honor though he would get a nice pat on the back.

Unlike it should, the feeling didn’t make him feel anything but terrible, something dark doing its rounds in his chest, somewhere between and around where his lungs should be.

He knew from a first glance that this was one of the kinds of places that should remain untouched, not in spite of any others but for the sake of its own beauty, in respect for its life and in an effort to mitigate any harms he might bring to it.

He felt slightly selfish for the thought -a good part of him wanted to keep this all to himself- and for the want he still had, the one that asked him to deface such a sacred place for naught but a momentary reward. He didn’t deserve to be greedy after being so shameful, his person not terrible not for the blood crusting on his hands, more instead for the lack of it.

There was some evil in being peaceable, in having regret. Pure things did not belong to pure people, though he had a hard time finding himself to be pure at all.

Hiccup shook his head.

He could see what else he could find, if not for boon, then just for the chance that it might bring him distraction for a short while.

The only thing to do was to start forwards. It really- it really wouldn’t hurt to look.

Hiccup turned fully. The unbalanced feeling that came from being on uneven ground was offset by the solidness of the sand beneath his feet. It became nearly unnoticeable as he began moving again.

The bar of sand only got narrower just as the tiny rock pools lining the difference between sand and ocean only got larger, the only thing visible to him past that being the vast horizon of the sea, different here to any other he’d seen over any other part of the island.

The cliff face began to curve overhead, and while caution said he should stay away from the cliff lest anything crumble or fall, he moved towards it anyways.

He glanced down only briefly as sand became stone beneath his feet and the leftover grains either wedged into the treaded bottoms of his shoes or ground sharply against them, like a bunch of pebbles in a basket but of a higher pitch, all striking against each other discordantly.

He walked along the cliff, one hand on the rock face, leaning against it as the path became narrower, the ocean’s waters lapping at his soles.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a tide pool in person before- It had to be low tide.

He ogled at what could have been a starfish, a lumpy-looking red thing with multiple tentacle-like limbs clinging to one of the rocks in the most awkward, interesting contortion.

Berk didn’t have too many, all steep cliffs and hungry underwater dragons. The same went for mussels. The only things Berk had in abundance were algae and fish, though all of the above seemed to coexist in this place comfortably.

“Gods, what-...” A very thin, lighter green layer of algae surrounding the starfish, swirling like a thin layer of smoke, the darting of a small, finger size, thin silver-and-baby-cobalt fish darting in a small pool a bit further up, and a blooming bustle of closed light brown and gray mussel shells in the water, which came as a surprise to him- this whole area was lively in a way that the rest of Berk was not.

He hadn’t been sure that there was anything else to know on this island, to explore, and yet- There was one by his foot where the pool was so shallow and the water so little that it seemed to be nearly invisible.

He eyed white bubbles, the only tell that anything might have been in there at all, so unlike the sometimes yellowish sea foam by the docks. It was nearly insignificant, and yet the lack of a fishy smell and the gently rhythmic sound of rushing water had his stomach turning, feeling prickly- or maybe it was fluttering. He couldn’t tell.

Hiccup sighed, his hand leaving the face of the cliff.

Stepping forwards, he did not at all anticipate the way his boot caught on a sharp, bumpy ledge or rock, or the way his arms shot out in an effort to balance him, his left elbow jabbing quite disconcertingly against solid stone.

You stretched, a sharp noise pulling from your throat, overwhelmed with satisfaction, feeling your wrap pull against your waist as you raised your arms all the way into the air, struggling to keep loose fabrics in place.

You heard something sharp then, a sound half-rasped, shouting perhaps the name Ack, or maybe Ake, or maybe it was just a noise overlaid by the sound of a splash, something thin and sudden as if only part of a hard object had skirted over a shallow liquid’s surface.

Startled, your own shoulders jumped.

A peal of laughter, not at all echoey like he’d have expected with the tall, curving cliffs and the odd rules of this beautiful place- it was tinkling not in the sense that it sounded like metal at all, though it was similar in that it gave the same exact feeling he’d been given by listening to the twittering sound of gentle bells.

It was a sound he’d heard only once, one he could only ever visit through soft, hazy memory- a wizened, tanned hand holding up a pair of delicate balls, small, tiny, quiet, another hand cradled below it in the air as if they were something worth holding, as if it couldn’t bear not to be apart from them for a moment, even as they were being so delicately handled.

It was something that stuck with him, from a time when he’d had nothing but chubby child’s cheeks which he rested above ginormous baggy sleeves, leaning over a small crate as the flooring bobbed back and forth with the tides, his knees bending with it.

They were nothing anyone on Berk had thought to buy nor were they anything he could afford as a small child with nothing to trade and a pitiful, single allowance of one rune, which he’d spent earlier on a shiny roman coin, one his father later threw into the sea.

Flailing his way free of the vertigo brought on by his clumsy wobbling, he blinked, glancing around for a second, searching for confirmation that he really wasn’t alone before he spotted you, meeting you directly in the eye as you peered back around the corner of the cliffs, instilling in him the idea that at the end of the tide pools wasn’t just a walk-less edge, but also a corner.

Your softer laughter was discernible, more than anything else along that beach, yet light and not at all sharp or grating, a sound so precious and high it was almost nothing, barely smothered by puffed cheeks and a palm to the mouth.

A smaller Hiccup would have yearned to know that he did not have to travel over the seas to find such a pretty treasure- that to hear it, he’d just need to see you.

Fate, Something inside him shouted insistently.

He balked, like something thin and nearly imperceptible had been tugging him by the chest. It was gone now.

In the day, the danger were the forest boars, tall as a man and thrice as strong. Now, to him, you brought to mind myths of fairy circles, traps, magic moss and fungus on purple bark. To him, you were dangerous.

He tried to remember if he’d stepped between anything suspicious past odd flowers even as you’d begun to duck away, something like startle raising your brows and shying your smile, in him, giving way to mild frustration and another thing just as wild in his chest. “Wait-”

It was all a blur as he made to pursue, something he only experienced in flashes, even as he lived the moment.

“Hey-!” The tide rocks below felt stabbing, even through his soles, his imbalance all but forgotten as he stomped and splashed through pools.

He wasn’t sure when he’d fully rounded the corner or when rock had turned back to sand.

You yelped as he pursued and once again as he made quite the similar, strangled noise.

His foot caught and something in his lower stomach dived up his spine, rendering his alarm to physical feeling, his knees’ nerves lit with the same emotion as they ceased function and he tripped face-first into the sand, his chin grinding into grain.

Sand stuck itself to his coat and shirt, his hands pressing flat against it as it rubbed itself into his palms.

The same moment he felt the tight pull of something holding his ankles closer together was the same moment his torso jerked compulsively in a way that curled him to the side as he skidded, his neck and upper back taking the bunt force of his fall.

He hadn’t realized how hard he’d been knocked until his lungs failed to breathe against themselves as if he’d been assaulted with two punches by a flat hand, palm first in the center of his chest.

He took a pathetic moment to breathe in the sand and to feel it warm against the flat of his arm before he pulled away, spitting and nearly choking on it.

Hiccup cursed his luck.

He’d missed his step and slipped, falling fully face first onto his knees in the sand with his rump nearly sticking into the air. How embarrassing.

You hadn’t screamed yet- he supposed he could be grateful for your good humor, despite the fact that it looked as if he’d launched himself at you.

After a moment of pause, during which Hiccup had finally come to a stop and had spent some time with his elbows bent, stiff and still, his rapid-fire mind coming to a hard stop for the first time in a very long while, he opened his eyes and looked.

His fall was such that though he lost all of his breath, he had no hurts or sores, the sand cradling him in a way that slid against him, imprinting against flesh and armoring him instead of ripping skin.

His legs and lower back strained slightly as he lifted his feet together into the air, spread slightly apart so that he could give them both a better look. It was all a mess, netting tangled just as if it was a ball of something loosely knitted that had been sitting in a drawer for some while and not a single soul could be bothered to spend the trouble it would take to unwind it. The thin twine wrapped unevenly around his furred ankles in a way that meant that some parts were afforded slack while others were tight enough that he could almost feel them through his boots.

He heard what might have been the light slap of feet against water, though they were not his. It only just barely precluded the sound of water against thatch, which would have told him first what the weighty feel of wet sand did if it hadn't sprayed the back of his head first.

Finding the strength in his fingers and arms, coughing slightly, he could do nothing but look up at you as he pushed himself up, feeling both indignant and a touch forlorn.

“Sorry,” You squeaked.

He blinked at you, astonished.

Hiccup’d never known a fairy to say sorry, though there was a first time for everything, nevermind the fact that he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a fairy, either.

He was unsure of whatever else he’d had plastered across his face, for never before had his indignation or his forlorn-ness ever been enough to give anyone pause, though he was sure it reflected the scandal he must have felt, if not to a mild degree than a comical one as you let out a startled, slightly nervous laugh, once again clapping a palm to your mouth before the sound had even finished leaving your lips, muffling it to Hel.

As people were prone to do upon hearing the creaking of wooden faces and the scratching sudden tear of metal as a keg burst into smithereens, in that moment, there was a tension so high he felt the need to wince and duck, to clutch at the back of his head and press his nose to the floor.

Instead, a startling moment turned into something else.

He let out a short, half-choked laugh of his own, a mutual understanding lighting up between the two of you as his fingers sunk deeper into beach sand.

Your lax hand falling to your chest, you were beaming, the slit of your eye and the pull of the side of your mouth to the thick of your cheek conveying a feeling that couldn’t be anything but both mischievous and merry, making Hiccup feel as if he were the sun itself.

Two eyes meeting, a mirrored smile, off by nothing more than a nail, a handshake, the thick, envious tightening of his lungs- of course he’d known what it meant, having always seen it from the outside, and yet to experience it as one member of a two-person fold felt euphoric, a joy that bloomed from just the simple fact of knowing in the most genuine sense that the person he was with felt happy too.

For the first time ever, he felt Viking-brave, as if he’d conquered the world and had been worthy enough to stand before it, his hands gripping the handle of a golden sword, boots iron as a knight’s, resting atop the flat face of a polished marble pedestal. He felt more courageous than he had ever felt standing over a rustled, battered dragon with a dull knife.

He would play your fairy game, and he wouldn’t lose you- to you, against you, you. Not now nor anywhere along this beach, should it begin to stretch forever and trap him here in this place outside of time.

Light seemed to glance off your eye as if drawn, to highlight your mischief.

Whatever he’d gotten from your exchange had also very apparently made you brazen, your features going stiff in a way he could only call impish.

Hiccup glanced down at his ankles for a very brief second, nearly missing as you turned quite clumsily and began trying to finish running your way down the beach.

“Wait- come back!” He could go for his knife, but- he spent too much time tugging at the twine, thin string digging into the folds of his fingers before he quickly realized he wouldn’t be able to get his boots free fast enough to make after you.

He didn’t know if there was an end to this beach at all, nor did he know where it truly started, and if he stayed, well, he was sure he would lose track of you forever.

His heart was racing as he shoved one boot off with his hand, kicking a divet into the sand, his thumb catching on the ankle of his trouser leg, tugging as he tried to push himself up off the sand, nearly tripping him again as it shifted his balance forwards.

Instead, he used the force of his fall as a crutch as he pushed himself up and, hopping, he kicked off his other boot as he began to run, brushing off his nose and tongue as he went, blowing out tiny bits of sand.

He could see the rest of the beach ahead. There wasn’t much, pools turning to grains then back into stone structure he was familiar with on the land surrounding Berk’s larger stack, one which lined multiple sides of the island, the same island that rendered him -and all the other Vikings- nothing but a small cut off a grain of sand compared to such vast, imposing landmarks.

Hiccup wondered if he’d run to see the other side of them, if he might be able to make out the village, or if he would be able to make out any of the pillars towering tall enough to meet Gothi’s hut on even ground.

Really, ‘Stack’ or ‘Pillar’ didn't do them any justice- they were more than land, tall rising columns of stone coming up from the ocean which grew larger than the hall, overshadowing a set of geometric plateaus, all making up the exact same shapes in all identical mineral colors.

They occupied a league of the ocean that all men avoided sailing past, given a wide berth so that they looked like nothing but a small pick over a wide horizon, spouting cautionary tales and lectures.

Any boat would be torn to wooden splinters before it could reach even a league from any stem, wider than two huts, the sea below moving quick enough to obscure the shallow rock underneath, a place to which sealife fled and fish prospered, under and around.

Every few generations, when catches were few, tensions were high, and bellies were so starved that ribs were worn more freely than furs, the temptation would grow too much and some lone Viking would be speared to death along its depthless, jagged ends, seeking feed and glory.

Hiccup felt the same in that moment- just another boy who was not worthy of the Viking bloodline, would be culled, stricken from his clan’ records, too weak to do anything but fall in the face of his own whims.

He should have turned back- should have never seen you, should have done his best to unravel whatever trick had ensnared him, and yet he pursued you relentlessly anyways.

Perpendicular columns rose in the shape of a hill like an uneven staircase or a set of shallow walls. You were running up a group of them like they were a particularly shallow set of steps, wide, tall and angled in a way that made it so he couldn’t see the top at all, the closer he got, the less he could see as ledges rose above him, feeling as if they were moving on their own, his motion and the evenness of all the rocks doing something dizzy to his eyes.

He rushed up after you, the soles of his feet slamming painfully against flat stone, his foot’s arch protesting with each landing.

What you made look easy, dancing up as if you were the down on a feather’s stem, being lifted up by the breeze with baggy waist wrap in either hand, was much steeper for him.

“Hey-!” Hiccup started as he nearly tripped again over one geometric ledge, the end of one heel disappearing above him.

Just out of view, you laughed like a mirage during devastating winter, just barely out of reach by some length’s measure, something soft calling through the overwhelming sound of whipping wind and snow, except it wasn’t at all near the time for blizzards or ice.

You were by the sea, so maybe you weren’t a fairy or a witch- maybe you were a siren instead. A pretty girl sent to lure him to his doom after the Gods had found him lacking.

Hiccup had done his best- so if this was his reward, then he would take it with pride.

As he hauled himself up onto more even ground, fingers gripping and slipping fruitlessly back towards his palms, he expected to meet you face to face.

However, to his surprise, instead he met a split in the columns where the calm sea rushed in like stormy waters, forming an odd, angry impasse.

The water rushed in a way which told him there should have been a storm, pushing and pulling water in uneven waves from multiple directions, swirling tumultuously, though the sea to his right was still clear and blue. Maybe there was something, some system underneath in its depths that made it act in such a way, though above the water, Hiccup couldn’t see it.

To his left- a cave? His attentions were drawn to it by the sudden, overwhelming waterfall of sound, harsh and ringing in an echoey manner.

It was not really a cave. Though it was deep enough to be called solidly concave, it looked shallow, as if a large hand had just taken as deep a scoop as it could from the side and it had crumbled away into the ground like a scoop of sand from the world outside, yet the waves inside of it were rough, nearly level as they crashed with force into the rock.

Light seemed to bow away from it, slightly darker than it should have been given its lack of depth.

The farthest wall was bare of any platform though on both sides there was something, the cleft on yours much larger than his, a place where some moss grew at the point Hiccup was sure the ground became dryer, farther away from the soak of the rocky ocean world inside, though he was sure it was that same tumult that kept it so green, spray cascading down over it regularly.

From there, he blinked suspiciously up at where you stood on the other side on the opposite end of it, nearer to the ocean where he had been closer to the cliffs.

Meeting his eyes, you smirtled at him with playful smugness, in your arm the vertical length of a small wooden bridge, planks uneven with obvious nails sticking from multiple directions in the place one slab met another.

Hiccup glanced down where, clearly enough, there was a square-looking imprint in the place where mists of water from the rushing pass darkened the stone in splatters and pools.

“That’s not fair,” He deadpanned, looking up at you again, glancing, searching for a way across- any way.

Shuffling his feet briefly on the top of the plateau, he looked to his left and then back at you.

There was an area in the cave where the columns were close at the very end. He might be able to make the jump.

There was the ocean, too. He had no clue what lay under those currents, though he suspected it would be much the same as in the cave. Really, the cave- it was his best bet.

Water crashed and rose quickly at nearly an equal ground with his pathway, covering it in slippery water, harboring what was surely invisible, wet algae, lining both the faces and edges of each and every stone.

Here, there was no such thing as grip, only balance

Water cracked against basalt columns so even in form it looked almost hand crafted, the sound so loud he thought he might be able to hear his bones whistling and trembling under their might. He was sure he’d slip under its intensity. He might fall, made lighter than air in the face of might.

Rough waters and dark crystal blues under heavy, pure white foam- If he fell, they would shove him completely under and press him towards the bottom of the cave floor with a ferocity that would split him in two.

To be in there was not just to hear it, just as to see it was not to only look at it. To be in there was to bear witness to all of it at once, magnified by itself over and again.

If the beach was peaceful, then this was a terror, beautiful in its own right just as it was ferocious. Like a coin, every face had two sides.

Hiccup was glad he’d shed his boots as he took his first step forwards, the ground just slightly slicker under his feet, the wet slap of his feet against flat stone, covered in a texture that was not just slimy but also felt like a million soft, tiny arms against his more sensitive feet causing him to shift his shoulders ever as he lifted them higher in the name of balance.

“-ey! Wai-” Hiccup heard something that might have been your voice.

He didn’t look to see if you’d stumbled after him on the other side

He didn’t check to see if you’d laid the bridge down for him either or if you’d chosen to throw it away- No one had ever laid a bridge down for him, not since he was a small child, if ever. He’d accepted that, and now, with a single-minded focus, he was determined to get himself to the other side.

In fact, Hiccup was impressed with himself, walking with hunched shoulders and bent knees, keeping steady over the slick surface, though the broiling of the ocean water got worse the further he went into the cave.

It made the tumult outside feel like nothing of note- nothing more than something to be vaguely weary of as he teetered along the edge. That was something else, something rapid.

The water swirled, for the most part, not at all synchronous, though every once in a while there would be a large dip in the water level.

He crouched, more determined than he'd been since being rushed by the Arena Gronkle earlier that day. Sure, it was dangerous, but by the end of dragon training, he’d have probably lost his life anyways, so what did he really have to lose?

Hiccup wondered if the ground beneath his feet hollowed out, if there was where water rushed to and from, where such testy currents had been born- fifteen seconds.

Fifteen seconds was how long it took for the water to dip and sway, to make it less than level, to give him room to make it to the other side.

The length of the leap was no more than perhaps the length of his leg, maybe one half more.

There was an indent in one of the basalt columns rising from the water made by the place one geometric shape dipped and became another. If he could reach it- if he could leap across, he wouldn’t have to worry about any of it, though if it came down to it, and he had the mind, he could grab ahold there.

Hiccup grimaced and waited.

He waited until the wave bowed and receded, making way for the next large crash

As he applied force to his foot and lept, his toes slipped, and then his dorsum.

He felt weak as he pushed off as if he’d only accidentally flung back a thin sheet of paper with his launch and now he was just plain falling.

He felt see-through as some sharp ricochet up and down his spine, his mouth opening and as he did- something? He couldn’t hear anything leave his lips, left more than flailing without the surety of his own voice and the absence of his thought.

He’d been more than punched, ribs feeling as if they’d been jabbed backwards into his flesh as his chest made hard contact with stone.

Hiccup couldn’t think as he slid back.

It was not a full thought that lit his mind with something bright, filling him with a single-minded alarm that had him immobilized for another long moment.

His fingers hurt as he grabbed with as much force as he could, hands dragging slightly, his nails hurt as they pressed against stone, forced back as pressure was applied in the wrong direction, pulling directly from the face of the nail all at once, digging against stone and stuffing algae in the place between fingernail and flesh.

Hiccup tried to wheeze but he couldn’t- it was too wet as he gasped in most as drops of water, not at all fighting against the unpleasant feel of nail skidding against a chalky, blunt surface at the wrong angle as he scrabbled.

As he was pulled back towards the sea and down towards death, something pulled taut around his wrist, pulling, hefting his forward and dismantling his grip all at once with a weak yank.

With his simple thought, he knew nothing but the ice surrounding the lower part of his body, feeling nothing but the clutch of something hot around his wrist and palm.

It tugged you with him for just a moment.

He couldn’t see anything but your face, blurred by the feel of water slapping the side of his head suddenly, though he could feel the give of your body as he jerked back with the waves, full of dread for a moment as he expected to be completely pulled back and drowned violently.

He would have shed his coat if he could, grabbing at your wrists tightly-

You pulled back with your full weight, falling back in a way which must have hurt, landing roughly as he himself was righted, just enough that, despite the water shoving at his calves, the slip of the stone under his knees and his one arm still held by your grip, sleeve tugged by your hands around his wrists, he was able to inch forwards, to a distance and in a way which freed him from the rapids behind and below.

He was able to push himself up as you, albeit at a race that was a measure slower, scooted back to standing, a motion which finally brought him to dryer ground, algae slick giving way to a dryer rock.

The ankles of his trousers were sopping wet, and half of his coat, too, where the water had slammed into him, yet he did not think of that, even as a drooling trickle of water gathered along the place his sole met stone.

Everything felt slightly unreal, both fast and sluggish as if he was watching something searching for another under a thick blanket, observing the process yet not truly understanding what was going on underneath.

Your eyes carried a worry conveyed by the upward cinch of your brows.

Surely Hiccup was happy to have been snatched from death. He felt that, and yet- maybe his eyes had been dry, or the damp seawater had done something to throw him off, however, he felt as if he was looking at the world through new eyes.

He felt something growing and grabbed your other hand, to keep you both steady.

His hands- they felt thick at times and somewhat clumsy during others, usually unless he was in the forge, where some things came easier to him than a fish sliding through the water. Though young, he was sure he’d lost most sharp feeling in them.

Really, many blacksmiths and warriors had by his age, rended to pieces by both metal, dragon-heated blade handle and just plain dragonfire. It was practically part of the coming-of-age, and yet, somehow, your palms were soft. Lightly calloused and only very sparingly scarred in a way that spoke of luxury.

In his chest, he knew in that moment that whatever had been meant for him before had been broken.

He’d never thought about it.

Hiccup wasn’t the time to turn over stones or to ponder the meaning of life. He didn’t pay attention to the measure of warmth in a paw or whether or not he could feel for any heartbeat there, nor did he ever care about the way the lines in a palm might feel under his hand or wonder how the patterns on another’s pads might look.

However, in that moment, he’d never felt anything so truly alive under his fingertips. The feeling blustered past the cold of the sea spray covering the surface of your skin to feel the warmth underneath.

It was all wordless. Nothing you said he could hear over the waves, his mouth parted just slightly as he stared at you, all weird and human and non-human.

After you looked back once again, panting hard and really confirming that you were on dry ground, you fell back again with your full weight, landing tiredly against a moss-cushioned column, its shape wide and tall enough to make a decent stool.

“Really,” You lamented, though you both sounded just as frightened and harried as he had been, “You could have gone around the other way.”

The whole beach seemed to quiet down a measure, or maybe his focus was much too tuned in on you to hear anything else.

“Uhm-” Hiccup started, still reaching, unable to think of anything coherent, glancing to his side, finishing lamely; “It wouldn’t have been quick enough.”

He felt as if he shouldn’t look, as if he’d caught a glimpse of something vulnerable, though there was not a trace of any emotion hidden on any part of your face.

As his own breathing evened, he looked with half-unprocessing everything, not seeing or knowing much, though something caught his eye, nestled between columns and moss to his back on the side of him absent of you.

Nestled between the rocks was… Hiccup wasn’t sure what it was.

Absently, distractedly, or perhaps in an effort to raise up some sort of real distraction, he reached a hand towards it, fingers brushing past a rotten-looking yellow-green thing at the tip of his nail catching against rough fabric as he grabbed what he thought might be its face.

Feeling the tug of you against him he grabbed it as you stumbled away with him in tow.

Its body was a nasty dirty gray-blue, only just large enough to fit into his hand. It felt unpleasant to the touch, algae seeping into and out of its pores, worse than the slime against the rocks and his feet in that this could shift and move easily, so it felt as if Hiccup was touching the bodily waste of something alive.

Examining it, grimacing, Hiccup decided that it had to be a doll, though it didn't feel like much more than a rag.

He had to wonder what it was doing here.

It couldn’t have been here long, where the moisture should have caused it to rot away into dust and mold, though there was a small part of him that wanted to disagree, recalling how nothing else here worked as it should.

He had to wonder why you weren't in dragon training, though as he’d found, you were somewhat good at going under the radar.

Past the turmoil in his chest, Hiccup was dazed, though he wasn’t sure if it was because of the danger or just because of you.

He jumped slightly as he felt the light of day over his face again.

“How are you here?”

“How am I-” Hiccup started, then stopped. He wasn’t actually sure how he’d gotten here. “...What is this place?”

“If I-” gesturing with the rotten doll, nearly flinging it with his loose grip back into the ruckus of the water in the impasse.

You shrugged, “If you’re here, then it’s something you need. I think.”

“I didn’t mean to be here.” Hiccup said mournfully, after a moment of opening his mouth wide and closing it.

You seemed unsure for a moment, your brows cinching again. It seemed out of order.

“Hold still,” You smiled, the tips of your front teeth pinning your bottom in a way that looked silly and girlish and very slightly, endearingly stupid. It still seemed unsure, as if you couldn’t decide what to do with him.

He wasn’t sure what you’d done to him- if you’d instilled some kind of mark or charm on his person as you patted his shoulders, though he didn’t care

Breeze past his ear, whistling hard enough to sound echoey against the still hollow of his drum like air blown parallel above the hole in an urn. If he thought about it, he might be able to make out some tune from the noise.

“What’s that?” You asked, looking down.

He lifted the hand with the small, ragged plush with its large stitches, having let it go limp.

“I… found it. Whoever it belonged to… I just had a feeling I should keep it.” Hiccup grimaced.

You smiled, speaking, though he still couldn’t hear much over the roaring of the water to your side as he unfocused by a measure and began to come back to himself, “-always find their way back.”

As he stared, he hadn’t realized you’d gone and dropped down the bridge. “Hurry along, there’s something I think you need to be doing.”

Hiccup furrowed his brows, blinking absently, “You mean you’re not going to keep me here?”

“Isn’t there somewhere you need to be?” You asked again soothingly, guiding him over gentler impasse waters with your hands on his back at the part where his spine dipped just above his hips. “Before the tide rises…”

His legs, which moved with a monotonous evenness despite the uneven creaking of the makeshift bridge below, would have surely been unsteady if he’d realized at all what was happening, his knees shaking with strain and nerves even if he'd had the wits to make the march back over so soon.

“I-...” If he was fully conscious, he might have protested, not just at the fact that you were touching such a familiar, usually not-thought-about spot, but also the fact that he wasn’t willing to have come all this way for nothing, though if he really thought about it…

There was something in your hands that said quite the opposite. Not for nothing. …Just a little bit more.

Just a little bit longer.

Walking through the forest, a mix of normal neutral greens and browns, he felt rejuvenated as if he’d never had such a harrowing experience to begin with.

It was as if no time had passed at all, the sun still hung strung, punched between the fingers of a God who’d been much too occupied and forgetful to move it.

In the same place as it had been before when he started walking, as if the beach was a sequence in a dream. As if he’d only just taken a short nap and blinked into himself, the only evidence anything had ever happened being the bulk in his coat from an old, moss-covered algae rag.

Hiccup took one large moment to pause and stare at the dirt ground. He wasn’t even quite sure how he’d made it back into the larger forest, leaving much the same way he came.

He didn’t even feel too bothered- not like he had been before it all, when he’d been thinking of… something. Something important.

The dragon.

#httyd #how to train your dragon #x reader #hiccup x reader #fanfiction #hiccup haddock #httyd imagine #fem reader #female reader #toothless

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mqverick · 11 months ago

Text

st. tropez party girl || ִ ࣪𖤐

“if you hold me tight, it's alright

let the fire ignite.”

─── ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ───

Jerry fucking Maguire. The man with the vision, the most known sports agent in the town, the guy who could set his mind into something and actually achieve it, even if it meant costing him the money for a once in a lifetime opportunity. Jerry Maguire, who was very openly a flirt, a cocky bastard, a pretentious loser and a little bit of a crazy person with unrealistic ambitions.

That’s who you had to work with and it both physically and mentally hurt you. You hated his guts, always had. You didn’t know a lot about him, just the basics and the ones written on the papers or spoken on the telly, but those few were enough for your mind to build up the rest of his personality, which you were not a big fan of.

God. You hated yourself for being so sentimental, but Jerry had just gotten fired and he looked sweaty and alone and miserable — not to mention how he’d literally fished out Flipper in front of everybody while completely losing every single remaining of his dignity through that ridiculous speech, at which everyone has been holding laughs back from, and you’d found yourself growing rather empathetic to his embarrassment, so you’d yelled out that you were going with him.

All eyes had been on you, strange looks, muffled snickers, even your friends at the office had warned you to sit your ass back where it had been for the past couple of years, with a secure future.

But no, you just had to save Jerry some of the embarrassment. You were currently in the elevator with him, awkward silence building up between the two of you as he fiddled around.

“Thought you hated me,” you heard him utter shyly. You glared at him, noticing the ungrateful choice of words after you’d just publicly humiliated yourself for him.

“Hate doesn’t exist in professionalism, Maguire. I’m strongly opposed against your idealism and quite frankly, not exactly fond of you either,” you replied sharply, not daring to look directly at him.

“Hm, so much for hate not existing.”

“But, I refuse to work for a bunch of fucking hippie hypocrites like Sugar. And you know, if it weren’t for me, no one would have had your back in there. Not even your precious assistant.”

Jerry gave you a weak, tight-lipped smile as he raised the bag with Flipper in it in the air. “From now on, the fish will symbolize a better future.”

You unintentionally chuckled, hurrying to put a straight face back on as you cleared your throat, wondering how the hell he managed to sound so drunk without having had the tiniest drop of alcohol in his body all day.

“You’re stupid,” you whispered under your breath, thankfully loud enough that it only reached your own ears.

“Thank you, you know,” Jerry turned to you, holding out his hand for you to take. “I honestly thought no one would believe in me.”

“Prove to me that you can be alone and then you’ll thank me, Jerry,” you spoke, moving past him and ignoring his hand as the doors opened.

That same evening, the moment you reached your home, you collapsed against the door, face buried in your hands as you mentally slapped and kicked yourself. What the fuck had you gone and done? Trusting Jerry fucking Maguire, Jerry Ma-fucking-uire, as Avery liked to call him. You were screwed, hopeless and at the mercy of the person you swore you wanted to erase from the universe.

But his mission statement had inspired you.

He spoke words that the others back at the office weren’t ready to hear, truths, facts, goals, dreams. That was the Jerry Maguire you quit your job for and maybe it wouldn’t be the messy waste of potential that your brain had pictured.

Except when you thought that things could actually possibly work out, Jerry found out that Cush and his family had signed a contract with Bob Sugar behind his back, and everything had returned back to the crap hole where it had began. With a single client hanging on by a thread, Jerry was wrecked and so were you.

Your life was destroyed, you’d decided.

Maybe acting out on those amateur pole dancing lessons that your older cousin had taught you back when you were 17 wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Jerry’s backup people were falling down like flies. Everyone was dropping him, first his own company, then Cush and eventually — which came as the biggest surprise — Avery.

You and Rod were his only hope.

For days now, you’d been rehearsing in front of your mirror how you’d tell him that you were dropping him as well. You were done, wouldn’t allow yourself to go bankrupt for a petty sad man.

It was either 9 o’clock or midnight, you couldn’t be arsed to check, because your favourite show was on TV and the commodity of your couch and blanket was comfortable enough to have you watching with your eyes half-lidded — when you heard a series of playful yet lazy knocks on your door. You groaned at the noise, not bothering to get into your slippers as you slid your sock-covered feet across the entrance, peeking through the door to see who was feeling rather silly in the middle of the night.

Of course it would be him. Who else?

For a second, you considered not opening the door for him. See if he’d stay there, in that pathetic posture of him, fingers running through his fucked up hair as he shivered just a little from being undressed in such a chilly weather. But then again, you’d already thrown your career away for him, so what gives?

“Hellooooo,” he said happily as you let him inside, grinning from ear to ear. The smell of booze hung in the atmosphere as he lazily wandered through the living room, smiling at your furniture and bursting into uncontrollable chuckles. You wished someone would shoot you — or rather him.

“Have you ever heard of a little something called, oh, I don’t know, calling before showing up at my front yard like the drunk fucking tooth fairy?” you gritted through your teeth. Jerry seemed unfazed.

“Mmm, someone’s… m-mad.”

“What are you doing here, Maguire?” you asked with a sigh, already growing tired of the sight of him. “And care to explain why you’re wearing alien sunglasses during nighttime?”

Jerry laughed as he pointed as his glasses, before removing them to reveal a swollen black eye with a huge cut next to it. You gasped when you saw it, concern washing over you as you rushed to his side for a better look.

“I, um, broke up with Avery.”

Damn, you certainly had not pegged Avery for the violent type. “Too bad, huh,” you mumbled, disappearing into the kitchen in search of an ice tray and a glass of water. When you walked back inside the living room, you found Jerry staring at the fishbowl that was placed on top of your fireplace, muttering something to Flipper, who was swimming without any worries.

“I fucking hate that fish,” he admitted and you held back a laugh as you gestured for him to sit down on the couch.

“What’s going on, Jerry?”

He shrugged. “Honestly? I don’t know. For the past few weeks, I’ve been watching my life fall apart right in front of my eyes. I’m finished. I am fucked! I’m a cautionary tale for everyone, no one trusts me because of that stupid mission statement I wrote after having what I think was two slices of cold, expired pizza and the worst of all is that you and Rod are the only people in my life that ever believed in me. Why are you even still with me? Why haven’t you dropped me yet?”

Your gaze softened and you opted for silence as you carefully let your hand graze the soft skin on his cheek, laying his head back against the couch. You brought the ice cub near his eyelid, feeling him wince as the cold material made contact with the still fresh wound. Jerry closed his eyes, trying to let himself relax against your touch.

“Wanna know why I haven’t left you, Jerry?” you asked and he nodded hesitantly in response. “Because what you think is a stupid memo made me realize that you have more potential than you give yourself credit for. You have something more than a need to succeed, you have a vision. You’re not just doing it for a money and in my brutally honest opinion, you’re more than just a man hiding behind a silver suit.”

You caught him smile at your words.

“You really mean that?”

Your contained smile barely lifted the corners of your mouth as you felt a certain warmth build up on your reddened cheeks. Sure, you’d seen Jerry smile before, but the gentleness and innocence that his soft, genuine beam wore was something you’d never witnessed before in your life. His two front teeth were visible through it and it tugged at your so far cold heartstrings, heating them up.

Your heart was hammering against your chest and your mind had gotten foggy along the way, which was partly the reason why your breath got caught in your throat the very moment you noticed that Jerry’s look had changed. “Do you mean that?” he repeated, this time more lowly.

“I’m still not fond of you.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question.”

You gulped, eyes fixated on his own green ones, which you swore were sparkling under the dim light of your sort of broken lamp. “Yes, I mean it.”

There it was again, that smile. Except this time it had something more to it that you couldn’t read (that you wouldn’t allow yourself to read, because you’d had your own share of drinks that evening and they had left just the right amount of courage in your body to do something stupid and regretful for the next day to feel embarrassed about.)

“What have I ever done to you?”

Jerry’s question sent your dreamy train of thoughts out of the rails, snapping you back into the reality of the things. “What?”

“You don’t like me. Why? What have I done?”

“Frankly, I thought you were just a pretentious jackass like Sugar. Maybe slightly less worse than him, but still pretty much a scumbag. Not to mention that your outbursts make me believe you’ve escaped out of some sort of mental institution centre.”

You never expected Jerry to lunge himself forward and knock the air out of you as his arms wrapped tightly against your sides, squeezing as he buried his head into the crook of your neck. Unsure of what to do, you froze in position, hands stuck uncomfortably on the couch, balling into fists as you bit down on your lip, waiting to breathe again after he pulled away with a hint of disappointment and gloom.

“Not a hugger?” he questioned.

“I just don’t want to be hugging you.”

“Ah, the heartwarming words of kindness.”

“I’m one step away from kicking you out of my house, Maguire. I don’t care if you’re drunk, it’s not my responsibility to take care of you or whatever you think this is. Want a place to crash, then you’re more than welcome to use my phone and third wheel Rod and his family.”

“I like that you’re honest.”

You blinked in surprise. How much had he chugged down before he decided to come over?

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s a quality I’ve never fully owned, you know?”

“You don’t say.”

Jerry didn’t say anything, just looked at you longingly, a silent conversation passing between the two of you. Then suddenly, “No one ever listens to me. When I’m with you, even though you say you hate me, I feel like you understand.”

Gosh, you couldn’t stand him. Was he really so desperate and unable to hold his own that he had to throw himself to whoever showed him the slightest sign of interest? “Jerry, stop.”

“All my life, all I’ve tried to do is talk. Really talk. And it’s not that people don’t listen, it’s that they don’t want to listen. Whatever I have to say just goes straight in and out of their ears. I spoke through my mission statement and you were the only one that actually heard.”

“Don’t.”

You felt your heart momentarily stop as Jerry moved closer to you, his lips alight on your cheek as if a ghost was gently stroking your skin in a silent confession that was so much deeper than what came through the surface.

“I’ll call a taxi. Thanks for not kicking me out. You know, tonight and, uh, generally speaking. I promise I’ll make everything work again and it’ll all be worth it,” he added before placing another kiss on your face, this time on your forehead. Jerry waved goodbye to you as he walked outside and for a strange reason, you found yourself fighting with a newfound desire and urge to both push him in front of a car and never have to see any of him anymore or set fire on the taxi he’d called and invite him back into your home to spend the night. You did neither, didn’t even have the words to say goodnight to him as you heard the door close, signalling that he’d finally left.

What time was it anyway? It felt like he’d been sitting beside you for what seemed like eternity.

The following day at work, you could say that you’d officially lost every will to live. Rod was yelling like crazy, as per usual, which was not helping your raging headache due to the lack of sleep you’d gotten over the night. Jerry Maguire occupying your brain into nightmares wasn’t exactly a chamomile and plate of chocolate chip cookies to help you drift in slumber.

Speaking of, Jerry had just asked you to come into his office, which was the sort of situation you’d been dreading ever since he’d left from your place last night.

“Asked to see me?” you called, voice cracking a little near the end of your sentence, which probably gave you away — fuck’s sake.

“Yeah, um, I wanted to talk,” he tensely replied.

“If it’s about…”

“It’s about last night,” he completed with a jittery tone. “Look, I brought you in a difficult moment. I was drunk and lonely and had no idea what was going on — I didn’t mean to show up like that.”

“Jerry, it’s fine,” you tried to cut him off, putting an end to the already painfully uncomfortable conversation before any other late night actions were mentioned, but apparently, Jerry had plans of his own.

“No, let me finish. I’m sorry I came over without warning and I’m also sorry for taking advantage of… you know, whatever was going through the atmosphere at said moment. But, uh, I feel like I need to let you know that I did and do appreciate everything you said and did for me last night, it was really nice to, um, hear something honest.”

Jerry glanced down at his lap, fingers fidgeting with the pen he was holding. You dared to take a quick look at him, just to see why he refused to meet your gaze, but the lighting from the blinds was dark enough to hide the blooming bush on his cheeks.

“Is that all?”

“Yeah, that’s all.”

“Okay,” you got up from your seat and were about to leave him alone in his thoughts, but your feet subconsciously stopped moving for a second and your body turned towards him as you cleared your throat in order to catch his attention. “Next time you show up at my place in the middle of the night, consider giving me a call first.”

You hurried outside, cursing your mouth for being such a pain in the neck. Whatever professionalism you and Jerry had shared was now long gone.

What you missed, though, was the relieved sigh and small smile that crept into his face when you left the unspoken invitation hanging in the air.

───

It had started getting better with Jerry. A few days (or was it weeks? You couldn’t really tell, because whenever he was around, you’d lose track of time) had passed and what had begun as great hatred for him had turned into tolerance and slight fondness. It was weird how sometimes you’d catch yourself watching Jerry walking away or Jerry smiling or Jerry panicking through the phone — for that matter. The man had gotten under your skin into a worryingly quick time.

For once again, as accustomed to, everything went to hell the moment he came across the struggle of yet another emotional meltdown. Rod was losing and the recruiters and reporters seemed unimpressed with him, which Jerry handled poorly, unable to imagine a scenario where Bob Sugar was laughing at his face for being what his ex fiancée had so successfully described him as; a fucking loser.

He was alone, pissed off with Rod, pissed off with Sugar, with his job, with the company, the circumstances of his daily fucked up life, with you, but mostly with his own self.

You could see he was letting himself have it and this time, you wouldn’t risk it again. So you decided to do what you thought was moral and announce to him that you’d been offered another job opportunity, which you wouldn’t decline.

“You’re leaving me?” he asked in disbelief, wearing that stupid pair of sunglasses again.

“Look at you, Jerry! You’re fucked, how the fuck am I supposed to think you can afford to have me when you don’t even know what you’re doing?”

“Fine! Be like all the others, then, go the fuck on. I don’t need you here anyway. You said it; I don’t know what to do, well you’re fucking right!”

Jerry was shouting and throwing fists at the wall, eyes widened and red, holding back fearful tears.

“You don’t know what it’s like to be me out here. It is an up-at-dawn, pride swallowing siege that I will never fully tell you about, okay? You don’t know anything about my fucking life!”

“And nor am I interested to!” you yelled, throwing your purse across the room, almost hitting him. “You know, if I had even one shred of respect for you before, it’s now kissed goodbye,” you added in a much calmer tone before leaving him, sniffling and holding back hot tears that burned through your eyes. You let them free once you home, streaming down your face like lava.

You didn’t even know what you were crying for.

Last time you checked, you didn’t care about Jerry Maguire raising his voice at you. Last time you checked, you were just a simple accountant who worked for Sports Management International, barely acknowledging his existence.

It was late when the phone rang and after a series of sobs and thousands of tissue packets filling up the rubbish bins, you wondered who it could be.

“Hello?”

“You told me to call.”

He surely heard the hitch sound your breath made when his voice echoed in your head.

“Maguire?”

“Yeah. I know it’s late again and I would be lying if I said that I didn’t want to bother you, because I really, really do. I need to see you, please. It’ll only be a minute, just give me a chance.”

It sounded as though he’d been crying as well, voice raspy, weak, chocked.

“Get lost. I don’t want to talk to you.”

“That’s fine, you don’t need to. I’ll talk enough for both of us. Can I come over? You won’t even notice when I’ll be gone, it’ll be that quick.”

A short inhale, then; “Fine.”

When he arrived, he looked like a mess. His eyelashes looked darker and red, eyes puffy and blurry. His hair was all over the place and you could make out the fact that he was struggling to keep his breathing steady, his lips drawn in tightly. The sight of him in that state almost made you burst into tears all over again.

“Hi,” he greeted lowly, afraid of his voice cracking.

“You have five minutes, Jerry.”

What sort of torture was this? Being just a breath away from breaking down in front of him, making a complete loser move and humiliating yourself, you stared at the ceiling above you, biting so roughly down on your lip that you thought you tasted a bit of blood (but that was just you being dramatic about the whole situation.)

“Five minutes? I’m trying to apologize, I can’t do this being timed! Listen, I—I wanted to say that I was stupid about everything I said earlier, I was having an existential crisis and there were so many emotions bottled up and it just flooded. Flooded all over my brain, which caused me not to think straight, so I took it out on you and—”

Jerry was cut off by the loud thud of your door getting shut. You ignored his restless knocking, walking back into the living room, drawing the thick curtains together when he tried to catch your attention from the windows as well. It took him a great deal of time to eventually give up, motioning to you something that you couldn’t quite understand at first. His hands were moving in a way as though he was saying he slipped something under your door and damn you for believing that the curiosity killed the cat.

When he got out of sight, you tiptoed slowly to the door, grabbing what seemed to be a wrinkly napkin. You wiped your tearing up eyes and read what he’d written on it.

‘You’re right. I do drive people away, but I can’t afford to do that to you too.’

“Jerry Maguire!” you called loudly after him after running outside to catch up with him. Thankfully, he hadn’t gone too far, freezing still at the sound of your voice. He turned around to double check that it wasn’t some sort of mirage his mind was playing on him and let out an exhausted laugh of relief as he walked quickly toward you, grabbing you into a soul crushing hug. He was so tightly pressed up against you that you thought you’d merge into one person, but you couldn’t care enough, returning the intensity of the hug right back.

“Please, just hang on for a little bit more. I’m going to make everything up to you, I can’t fucking lose you, I—” he stopped mid-sentence, stunned at himself as he began pulling away, hands still holding onto your shoulders.

You urged him to continue, clueless about why he’d so abruptly cut himself off just to look at you. It was giving you the creeps, the silence and darkness outside allowing the light breeze to be heard into your eardrums like a loud parade. Jerry was looking at you with such fragility and it hurt that you couldn’t read him, couldn’t understand what was going through that head of his.

His pupils were dilated, blown and dark, causing the green irises to glow under the gloominess of the sky. Jerry was looking at you almost as if…

No. No — this was just your mind being sick.

Jerry left as suddenly and coldly as he’d abandoned his previous sentence, out of any excuses and explanations. You couldn’t bare to question anything, simply leaving it to the way he had, hanging in the air, playing tricks with your imagination, giving you hope for something that you couldn’t fully comprehend either.

Three days later, you accidentally caught yourself shamelessly overhearing him ask Rod how to be able to tell if he’d fallen in love.

───

You were certain that the universe had chosen to make it your destiny to lose and hate Jerry Maguire. It was always one step forward and a whole road trip back. There were moments, many of them, where you thought that the thin line between hate and love had been crossed, but it ended up showing that you couldn’t have been more wrong, ultimately always screwing up — either him or you, you were tired of keeping score at this point — what seemed to make your heart flutter like you were leaving into the dream of a hopeless, predictable romcom movie.

Jerry was hot and cold.

You were up and down.

It was pointless, had been ever since the beginning. You kept losing him, right when your fingers had just grasped him, he kept slipping. It was neither’s fault really; both occupied with the misfortunes of work, trying to psyche Rod up for his big game, consulting endlessly while trying to maintain the already existing deals, raising the prices, focusing on that one client, showing the money — as Jerry liked to put it.

Under the environmental stress of the job, you and Jerry had been unable to connect the same way you did during all those short lived moments, the late night visits, the sleep disrupting calls.

But then, one day he caught you off guard as you’d just finished your duties and were about to take off, making you stop dead in your tracks.

“Do you, um… Are you… I know a great place!”

You stole a quick glance at him and noticed that his fingers were crossed, lips curled into an upward pout, eyes dreamingly bright. There wasn’t much you could say except for pick me up at 8 o’clock. He did exactly as he was told, ringing on your doorbell right on time, but you kept him waiting outside just for a minute, fixing your high heel in a rush. Truth is you’d spent all time trying to figure out the perfect outfit, just for him, just to get to see that one look he’d given you back in that night all over again.

And he did.

When you opened the door to reveal yourself dressed neatly in a velvet black dress that stopped a few inches lower than your thighs, hair flawlessly covering your bare shoulders, Jerry blushed bright red, not sure how to greet you. His jaw was slightly agape in awe, heart pumping fast and loudly against his chest, blood flowing quickly as the butterflies battled in his stomach.

“I— Woah,” he eventually managed. You innocently looked down at yourself, knowing exactly what you were doing to him but deciding to pretend to be oblivious.

“Is there something wrong?”

“You look… Fuck, you look Audrey Hepburn stunning. I feel like an underdressed jerk.”

That was not true, at least not for you. He was wearing a Sacramento colored shirt, with the top button of the collar undone, revealing a white tee. His pants were a simple beige pair of trousers and for the first time, he showed up at your house with his hair looking surprisingly nice.

You chuckled nervously at his comment, matching the scorching redness on his cheeks.

“Are we actually supposed to be nice to each other now?” you spilled out after a few moments, embarrassed by your choice of words.

“I suppose so. Shall we?” Jerry proposed, handing his shoulder out to you playfully. You slapped it away, hurting both his pride and arm, but the minute you realized the disappointment in his eyes, you mentally took a deep breath and linked your hands together, squeezing unintentionally due to the nervousness, but relaxing as you felt his thumb rub circles on the outside of your palm.

The restaurant he’d chosen was beautiful.

He was a gentleman; helping you get seated, pouring water into your glass, handing you the menu. It almost felt like a real date. In anticipation of the food getting served, you went for a small talk, which felt embarrassingly awkward.

“So, uh, how do you know this place?”

“Took Avery here on the third date, I think?”

“Ah.”

Jerry noticed your uneasiness and reached for your hand that was on the table.

“I don’t want to talk about her tonight, though. I’ve got a beautiful woman with me already.”

Your eyes widened comically and you slipped your hand away from his, scratching the back of your neck. “Look, Jerry, I thought this would be a nice way to get to finally know you, you know?”

“It is! I’ll help you get to know me. At work I’ve been all over the fucking place, you probably think I’m insane or something, but, uh, I swear, I’m actually a decent person.”

“Are you? You’ve done nothing to prove me otherwise.”

“I am. Besides, you said that my mission statement inspired you. I wrote that from the heart, put all my thoughts and dreams in there, so I guess I have in fact proven you otherwise.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

You gulped in order to gain the confidence to utter the question out, looking deep into his gorgeous green eyes as you tugged a strand of hair behind your ear. “That night, when you came into my house drunk — I just can’t help but wonder why did you come to me instead of Rod? Or anyone else for that matter.”

Jerry tensed up, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He looked as if he was about to confess something and just the thought made your knees jittery.

“As I said that same night, I feel like you understand me in a level no one else does. I was lonely and miserable and had no idea to do with my life and suddenly you were the first person that came into my mind, so I decided to pay you an unwanted visit. The reason I didn’t call was because I know how you feel about me and I could only imagine that you would’ve held a negative attitude if I asked to come over through the phone, so, that’s pretty much how it goes. You’ve been in my mind ever since.”

“Oh, Jerry,” you mouthed in a dazzling tone. No, you couldn’t do this. “Jerry, we need to stop.”

He looked at you through furrowed brows.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m taking about this. It’s been happening for almost a month now and all I know is that it’s confusing me, but I know for one thing that I can’t bare to put myself through something that I know will end up hurting me. It’s not your fault and it’s not mine either — it’s just our nature. I’m not build like this; I can’t just tiptoe back and forth into whatever the fuck this is, it needs to stop.”

Jerry was more confused than ever, feeling his own eyes well up at the sight of the first tear rolling down your cheek. “What happened?”

“You know what, Jerry — and for fuck’s sake, quit staring at me like I’m your entire world or something!” you said, your voice subconsciously raising. You got up from the chair and roamed through your purse for your wallet, leaving a bunch of money bills on the table as you hesitantly walked over to where he was.

“So what, you just stop talking to me?”

“You and I are both aware that an end needs to be put in this and you’re not strong enough for it, so I’m going to be the one to do it.”

“What if I don’t want you to?”

“It’s not your call,” you whispered, leaning down and taking his head in your hands, pressing it softly against your stomach as you leaned down to place a lingering kiss on the top of it.

“Please don’t leave me,” you heard Jerry choke out, his hands encircling your waist, afraid to let you go.

“You need to focus on Rod. Big game’s coming up and you can both do it. You’ll have a brilliant career, Jerry, I truly believe that and you’ll always have all my support, but you’re just going to have to do this on your own,” were your last words before you walked away, leaving him behind, wrecked, people staring not so discreetly as he held behind the sobs of the following two weeks.

───

Rod was finally getting to be a big deal. Jerry’s career had blossomed again, just as you’d promised to him. Everything in his life was going perfectly — then why did he feel so fucking empty inside? Watching Rod with his family made him hurt, reminiscing about the way you’d left him that day at the restaurant. Hadn’t been able to reach out to you ever since.

Jerry Maguire realised he was in love when his client called him in the spotlight to pose along with him. Nothing like that had ever occurred to him before and it felt so surrealistic, yet so true at the same time. He needed you to be there with him, needed to hear your voice, see you smile. Listen to you say that you were proud of him or even glare at him as if you wanted to burn a hole through his head and finish him.

Jerry was in love with you and it dwelled on him how much he’d actually been missing you.

Not caring about anything, he ran to the airport, knowing he had to make things right. The flight back home was killing him, time passing disgustingly slow for his liking. When he finally got off, he almost tripped towards his way to the taxi station. Precisely forty three minutes and ten seconds, he was finally standing outside of your door, his luggage thrown over his shoulder as he simply stared forward, unable to move.

Was he really doing this?

According to his bachelor video, the only thing he was great at was friendships. But he’d just taken off with his career and he needed to fulfil all the promises he’d made, so there he was, knocking on your door for once more. If you decided you still didn’t want him, then he’d go forever.

“Hello — oh.”

His breath disappeared when he saw you. How long had it really been? You were surprised, not expecting him at all. Your movements were limited, limbs completely in shock as you scooted away to let him in. Your mind was short circuiting as he looked around the place like nothing had happened, like the two of you hadn’t had talked in — was it months? Or just weeks that felt like decades?

“Hello. If this is where it has to happen, then this is where it has to happen,” Jerry began. You cocked your head in confusion, staring blankly at him. “I'm not letting you get rid of me. How about that? This used to be my specialty. You know, I was good in a living room. They’d send me in there, and I’d do it alone. And now I just... But tonight, our little project, our company had a very big night — a very, very big night. But it wasn’t complete, wasn’t nearly close to being in the same vicinity as complete, because I couldn’t share it with you. I couldn’t hear your voice or laugh about it with you. I missed you, I missed having you around. We live in a cynical world, and we work in a business of tough competitors. I love you. You complete me. And I just —”

“Shut up,” you mustered through tears. “Just shut up. You had me at ‘hello’.” And before you even knew what was happening, you were walking towards him, crashing your lips onto his hard with a fervent need you’d never known before. His hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you impossibly close to his body as he smiled through the kiss, feeling you reciprocate the action. Both you and Jerry were still crying, unable to hold back the tears of what could’ve happened ages ago if either of you had had the balls to actually pursue it.

But neither of you cared.

Because you were finally kissing Jerry Maguire and your life felt complete, just as he’d described. He completed you and you completed him and the feeling had you melting against him, knees buckling, mind dizzy from his words and his scent and the way he so perfectly belonged against your lips. Your heart nearly leapt out of your chest as he pulled away, trying to catch his breath.

“I love you so much. I’ve loved you ever since you came with me when I got fired. I wouldn’t be where I am right now without you,” Jerry said, leaning his forehead against yours as he cupped your cheeks, holding you gently and lovingly.

“I love you Jerry Maguire.”

FIN.

i wrote this for my favourite girl @honeymvnt , hope you enjoy beautiful !! 🫶🏼🎀

#jerry maguire #tom cruise #tom cruise x reader #idiots in love #angst prompt #maverick fanfic #maverick fluff #maverick x reader #maverick x you #pete maverick mitchell #tom cruise imagine #he’s such a loser #lots of love #lots of angst #so much fluff #jerry maguire x reader

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homelesstravelerssp · 4 months ago

Text

Aizawa Shouta Phoenix Fantasy Au!!

1. Aizawa Shota | Phoenix | Immortal | Moeru Sennin

2. 50049 years

3. In an era so ancient that the yellowed rustling pages are not able to capture, there lives a boy, just a teenager. A peasant, pointing his finger at everything outlandish, and running through ripe rice fields. His life is leisurely, monotonous, and calm. Until one day, running out to a loud bird cry, he stumbles upon something unclear, terrible and scary.

The immortal majestic Phoenix prepares for rebirth.

His feathers fall, turning to ash before they even touch the ground, he howls about his pain, burns to ashes, outside and inside, and along with him, an involuntary observer, an ordinary peasant boy, burns.

Thus a man was born, not born a phoenix, but becoming one.

The teenager does not immediately understand what has happened. Time leaves no trace on him, but takes his friends in exchange. The immortal learned, understood and accepted the unshakable laws of birth, life and death. And yet...

His body did not grow. He did not burn to ashes, receiving mortal wounds. When he was torn apart, his flesh and mind destroyed, he did not burn, did not reborn in ashes. Instead, he bled, unable to move, feeling endless pain, feeling how his skin knits together painfully slowly, how his bones line up into an understandable mechanism, and how muscles lick over them. Every part, every second he felt it. And it was not fast, like his birth, oh, no. The treatment remained ordinary, human, just stepped further, capable of restoring the impossible. He is not a real phoenix, and not a real man.

He watched an era die and a new one be born. He held the hands of a tentative but new beginning, only to watch it wave goodbye soon after. The world had not been kind to him. The world had not been kind to anyone. An immortal must fight over and over again, to protect himself, to protect someone else, so often that it is nothing more than another breath he takes.

He suffers many betrayals. Those who trust him most are wounded by him. He remembers all the good, and does not erase the bad. But everything has consequences. For every blow he missed, for every time he forgot himself and gave more than he had, his feathers scattered across valleys, across vast waters, across continents. And with them, he gave away precious memories. Of any and all friends long gone. Of the simple tune he whistled into a torn leaf as the page of history turned. Of the rare, quiet nights he spent with a full stomach at someone's hut.

The immortal considers himself an observer. Someone who carries the stories of the past within him, lives in the present, and moves into the future. There are no legends about him, he does not try to interfere with the course of events. He is a wanderer, a silent traveler who does not know the way. But he does not always remain so.

When a tiny life trembles, when motens knock and palms clap in confirmation of a contract, the immortal lets the fire flare up. His fiery fists tear, snatch a small man from the clutches of, no more and no less, human monsters.

He takes him. At first, Phoenix plans to simply take him to the nearest settlement, and leave him there, let kinder and more honest people take care of the child. And that's when he learns why the boy ended up where they met, and why no one else will take him in.

Shinso Hitoshi. A child the new world abandoned. And who is he to dictate fate?

Easier said than done. At first, Phoenix has no idea what to do with Shinso-kun. He's long forgotten what healthy food, a permanent home, and a sense of stability are, and now he must give them to someone else. Everything is tough, the immortal catches bugs, hunts game, and boils water with his hands, hiding from the world.

It gets better with time. He takes care of the boy, raises him, and tries to pass on the knowledge accumulated over thousands of years. This boy, who became his son, allowed him to catch a thin, taut thread, to fish out of memory a name that the phoenix thought had long since disappeared in one of the feathers in some valley.

Aizawa Shota. That was his name. That is his name.

The child grows. Aizawa learns tricks that used to seem stupid, but now seem like salvation. To pressure that older sorcerers probably go to bed on time to be strong. And they always wash themselves, because otherwise they will spoil the ingredients. And, of course, they eat all the things that are unpleasant for children. Aizawa learns to disguise himself with his son in order to take him to festivals, to allow him to grab at least a small piece of ordinary, green happiness, and hopes that he will not become a hermit like him.

It is Hitoshi who makes the immortal step towards the two boys, whose eyes are still barely shining with hope. It is so stupid, he is as old as this world, older than the dirt under their feet, but it is... refreshing. Allows him to vaguely remember the times when he carelessly carried water into barrels and seasoned fish with rice and salt for the winter. Friends. The concept is so distant, and so close.

But time flows, no matter how the immortal tries to stop it. His friend dies. And he is not a real Phoenix, he cannot grab and hold the fading life in his hands, force the soul to remain in the expiring body.

And so, he moves on.

The son grows up, learns new things (ah, it was embarrassing to find out that his training is out of date by... a couple of thousand years), becomes a full-grown adult. Of course, nothing compared to him, but now he is taller. Honestly, being taller than Aizawa is not difficult, because he is trapped in the body of a teenager, and yet. He already responds with sarcasm, enters the phase of teenage rebellion, comes out of it, and finds his business, his calling. The immortal is not sure if it is good by today's standards, but for now Hitoshi is happy, does it matter?

Meanwhile, another witch brings back to life the one Aizawa has already managed to let go. It is hard. It hits him. It pleases him.

Phoenix wants to stay in this time. But it is inexorable, and sooner or later, all this will become traces behind his back.

> Immortal. No wound can kill him. Regeneration at the speed of an ordinary person, does not rise from flame, does not dull the pain. Simply indestructible and self-healing.

> Perfect memory. To be immortal, Phoenixes needed this. To remember everything, to carry it on, to live with it. Otherwise, what else would they need immortality for?

> Flame. Able to create and control a small amount of flame. Not being a phoenix from birth, sooner or later the flame will burn him, and the amount he can summon is extremely limited. He prefers to strengthen his blows with it, nothing more. If he has to put in more than he can, he can increase the amount and heat of the fire he summons. Not for long, because in exchange he gives up his health, almost his life, and memories.

> He is unable to transform into a full-fledged phoenix. Instead, he is surrounded by feathers that contain his power. With their help, he can heal others (but not fatal wounds), or strengthen himself. In exchange, he gives up his precious memories. When a feather is used, it becomes useless, which is why his feathers are scattered all over the world. Their number is restored through regeneration, but extremely slowly.

> He looks like a teen-ager

#I'M ALIVE #fu hua inspired #hi3rd inspired #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero acedamia #bnha au #bnha fantasy au #mha fantasy au #mha au #aizawa shouta #eraserhead #dadzawa #aizawa shouta Phoenix au

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johaerys-writes · 3 months ago

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Ch. 12: Tidings

Read on AO3 | Read from the beginning

Sunlight reflects on the surface of the sea, shimmering golden fractals bobbing with each wave. The wind whistles through the caverns and the hollows of the rocks, and mingles with the song the nereids sing as they work on a splendid veil, each of them holding one end of it.

Thetis’ needle of sturdy fish bone weaves swiftly in and out of the delicate fabric. She and her sisters have been working on it all winter: first, they gathered sea weed fine as silk and twisted it into thread; then, each nereid sat at her loom for months to weave the thread into fabric fine as mist yet sturdier than any armour; now, the time has come to embroider it.

Tiny pearls of every colour and glittering sea shells adorn the plumed edges of it, winking in the light with each movement, and along the back a marvelous scene is slowly coming to life, like a beautiful tapestry: fish and ocean plants and deep sea creatures of immense power known only in legend. It is for Astraia, daughter of Hippothoe, whose hand has been promised to Orsiphantes, one of the many offspring of Coeus, powerful Titan and god of the axis of heaven around which constellations revolve. After it is finished, no other work of mortal or divine hands will resemble it, a gift fit for a queen of water, earth and sky. The nymphs sing, and the ancient magic of that song is woven into the very threads they use.

One day, Thetis and her sisters will create such a work for her own son, her Achilles. A chiton to make gods blush, a cloak unlike any other, or a belt so fine and heavy with gems so rare that it will sparkle even in the night. Thetis smiles to herself, picturing the day when she might gift him those precious things. But, even as her soul rejoices at the thought, a thorn always lingers in her heart. Her sisters and brothers and cousins shall cherish their sons and daughters for all time, for they are all immortal. Her own son, her lovely child of summer, is minunthadios, his precious life lasting but for a short time; the blink of an eye for most gods.

Thetis has done, and will continue to do, all she can to keep him with her for as long as she can. As she works, her hope returns, however feebly, and she devotes herself anew to her weaving and her song.

“Who is that man there, he who walks along the shore?” Callianeira of the brilliant scales asks, disturbing the rhythm the nereids have found.

"He moves towards us with such purpose, his intent unwavering," Galene supplies, her silver skin and hair blazing in the afternoon sun, her voice high-pitched like a dolphin's. "Who might be bold enough to disturb the daughters of the Ocean while they work?"

Thetis lifts her head and peers down the length of the beach. This is a quiet shore, remote and unknown to most mortals that roam the land. Hidden between massive crags and hills, and with no footpath easily traversed, it has been the domain of the nymphs for ages beyond counting.

The nereids, one by one all stop their work to dubiously regard the man.

“A human?” Leucothoe asks, squinting at the lone, dark figure. Her bone white hair and translucent skin marks her as a nymph of the far deep, her eyes not seeing far in daylight but her senses nonetheless sharp. “His footsteps are too certain, his gait too wide yet light as a feather. He walks like no other mortal I’ve ever encountered.”

Laomedeia next to her, a stark opposite to her whiteness with rich black hair and reddish bronze scales like a surface-loving fish, shakes her head. “No human has stepped foot here in hundreds of years. This is no mortal.”

There is indeed something strange about the man. His steps swallow up the land as if he’s sprinting, but without appearing to run. As he draws closer, his flashing eyes catch the light, black yet shining like polished onyx. There is a clever smile on his lips, and one of his strong and shapely arms is raised in salute. The feather on the golden cap he wears winks with a strong gust of wind, and his golden sandals glimmer.

“Lord Hermes,” Thetis says. She sets her work down and stands to greet him, bowing her head in respect. “Son of Maia, immortal guide and keeper of the heavenly flocks. It is an honour to see you on our shore.”

Hermes smiles at each of the goddesses with a brief nod of his godly head. He is polite, yet his grace belies a touch of hastiness. “Ladies! A fine morning, wouldn’t you agree?”

The nereids agree in a sussurus of murmurs that, to an unfamiliar ear, is not much unlike the scrape of waves against the rocks. Not a few of them wrinkle their noses in distaste at Lord Hermes’ too-casual greeting; the Olympians are not known for the same adherence to courtesy and etiquette that the Titan-born pride themselves in.

“What brings you to these distant shores, Lord Hermes?” Thetis, as the first of the oceanids, asks. The messenger god never appears to anyone without purpose.

“Ah, glad that you asked!” he says cheerfully. “I bring tidings to you, fair ladies—in fact, to all the gods of this land. And I shall tell you them post haste, since time is more precious by far than gold, and I have precious little of it to spare.”

Read the rest on AO3

#patrochilles #achilles #patroclus #thetis #tsoa #the song of achilles #hades game #the iliad #omegaverse au #johaerys writes #tagamemnon

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the-bar-sinister · 4 months ago

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Unbound by Blood, Stitched by Thread (12437 words) by VickytheSnake, Dave Strider Additional Tags: Loyalty, Found Family, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Angst, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, POV Violet (One Piece), Villains, Twisted, Fucked Up, Emotional Baggage, Running Away, Rescuing Doflamingo, it'll be a few chapters before Doffy shows up on screen, Getting Back Together Summary: Family versus blood. A common theme in the Donquixote pirates.

catch up here

They were two days at sea chasing the fleet that held Doflamingo, and they were having trouble gaining ground. There was time to intercept them– it was no brief journey, but the weather hadn't been good and it delayed their ship more than it delayed the marines.

Sitting in the sparely stocked galley of the ship, Trebol leaned toward Violet in his chair. "Have you heard them talking about stopping at the G5 before continuing to Impel Down?"

Violet’s eyes were staring somewhere far, far away as she held her fingers to them. Despite their delays, the Marine ships were still within her range…a small blessing given the repeated setbacks.

“There’s a debate about it among the admiral and his subordinates. There’s concerns of it being a security risk being weighed against the need for rations and supplies to cross back towards Impel Down.”

He tapped his fingers on his knees, his mouth a thin line as he concentrated. "If they are going to stop– which seems likely– we'll cut time if we adjust our course before they do. But if we do so and they head straight for Mary Geoise…."

“Then they’ll be able to slip past while we waste precious time trying to get through Fishman Island.” Violet lowered her fingers to look him in the eyes with a pensive frown.

The odds of them catching up if the Marines took their easy high road through Mary Geoise were low. They had too many shortcuts that were now very much unavailable to her now that the outcry had risen in her homeland as yet another of their princesses went ‘missing’.

Sneaking through Mary Geoise would be a suicide mission. “It’s a gamble, Tre.”

"Not one I'm looking forward to putting my chips down on, I'm afraid," he drawled, nervously adjusting the lapels of his heavy coat. "But any decision is better than no decision with time at a premium. I'll get Vergo's opinion, and then we'll make our play."

“Sounds good.” She nodded. “I’ll be keeping an eye on the marines. If the stalemate’s broken in our favor, you’ll be the first to know. They can’t float in indecision forever.”

It was familiar, these sorts of back and forths. Trebol was a man who knew the strengths of her power and how to use them. During their days in Dressrosa, there were many times just like this where she’d scry with her eyes and help the Donquixote’s resident strategist conjure plans of attack and subterfuge.

Trebol was a man who knew how to assess and understand data, and collate it from many sources into a coherent structure. To say that he was the real power behind Doflamingo would not be strictly true, but to remove him would be like cutting out Doffy's remaining eye.

She was about to continue when the door slammed open to a high and cheerful voice sing-songing out through the galley.

“Tre-tre~ Vi-Vi~~~” Derringer , the deadly fighting fish, cried out as he clacked his way into the room on spiked heels. “Guess who’s got news!”

Trebol raised his head, turning to give a questioning look to Derriger as he made his way into the galley. "I think the smart money's on you, Derringer, mmm?"

The effeminate young man placed his hand on his hip as he leaned forward with a sharp-toothed grin. “Ding ding! You win!”

Violet leaned on her hand with a tilt of her head “well? What did we win?”

“In-for-ma-tion~ Something I bet you haven’t even gotten yet, Violet!” he pointed “another ship’s been sighted in the vicinity of the marine ship, barrelling down on Mary Geoise!”

This got Trebol's attention, and he sat yet further forward in his chair, stroking his beard.

"Another ship? Do you have any details?"

This could certainly be good news or bad. But given how excited Derringer sounded, it probably at least wasn't another marine ship. Probably, anyway. Derringer was pretty excitable.

“The news must not have filtered up to the Admiral yet,” Violet mused almost to herself.

“Well yeah, this is hot, breaking news.” Derringer giggled again. “if the reports from their scouts are to be believed, it’s the old alligator’s ship!”

“A…” Viola’s brow furrowed “Alligator? You don’t mean..”

"Sir Crocodile?" Trebol's pince-nez slid down his nose and he pushed them back up. "You're not joking, are you?"

“Awww, you don’t believe me?” Derringer pouted before pressing his hand up and into the golden locks of his hair. “Geeze, Tre, you’re so hard to please.”

Violet circled her fingers and activated her power again, peering in the direction of the marine ship as quick as she could. “Sir Crocodile is headed to Mary Geoise? But why??”

"I do believe you, Derringer, it's simply quite surprising news. And possibly in our favor," Trebol mused. "I can imagine only two reasons he'd appear to be heading to Mary Geoise."

Her vision projected outwards…both here in the room with them, and leagues away over the sea. “One is to wage some sort of attack….and the other is to intercept the prison ship. Right Trebol?”

Derringer puffed his cheeks, something she was only dimly aware of. “So did I do good?”

"You did very good, Derringer," Trebol promised. He reached out and patted the young, flashy member of the family on the head. "Thank you."

Violet was only dimly aware of the interaction as her senses went elsewhere, to the deck of another ship.

Sir Crocodile looked pensive, checking and double checking an eternal pose. He looked up, and for a moment, before Violet adjusted her vision, it was like he was staring right at her.

But then she saw who he was really looking at. A rather beautiful looking man with sharp cheekbones and defined makeup.

"I don't ask you to walk back in there lightly, Bentham," Crocodile growled around his cigar. "But if we don't catch up to them in time, you're the back up plan."As she listened, she relayed the information to Trebol, her concentration otherwise locked on the scene far away.

“Sir Crocodile is talking with someone named Bentham. He says if ‘we can’t catch up to them in time’ that he’s the back up plan to break into somewhere.”

Trebol stroked his beard, listening as she relayed the information.

"Croc, baby, darling, I'm not excited for another stroll into Impel Down, but if your Doffy is as impressive as his reputation, I can see why you'd want him at large instead of shut up by the government."“He’s attempting to rescue Doffy,” Violet’s heart skipped a beat as her eyes widened and for a moment sent her vision on the deck out of focus before she snapped back into the scene between the former Warlord and the man. “If he can’t intercept the ship, he’s sending this Bentham guy into Impel Down to break him out.”

She heard Derringer whistle, impressed “I didn’t know Alligator cared! That’s big news for us, right?”

Trebol broke out into a toothy grin, and slapped his knee. "It's big news for us, yes. Fantastic news. We'll divert to G5 and cut them off there– and if they head straight for Mary Geoise then Crocodile can wrestle with them. I don't trust the man as far as I could throw him but it'll be easier to get Doffy back from him than from Impel Down if it comes to it."

Violet nodded firmly as she felt a grin spread across her own face. “Aye aye. We’ll have our helmsman set course for G5! I have a feeling we’ll win this gamble, Tre. A hunch.”

“Oooh~” Derringer perked up. “Scary! Will I get to kill some marines?”

Trebol laughed.

"Perhaps you will. If not, I'm sure we can scrounge some up for you to play with in celebration. We're no longer bending the knee to the government after all." He turned his head to her. "You look almost as excited as Derringer, Vi."

Her vision snapped back to the here and now, and she turned to face him with lidded eyes and the grin she didn’t even try to repress.

“Can you blame me, Trebol?”

"Oh no, not at all," he purred with a rather smug smile. "I know you're just as eager as the rest of us."

She had the good grace to feel a little flustered about that, folding her hands under her chin and leaning on them with a wink. “you know better than most how well I took to the life..I–”

Suddenly she was rocked forward by the weight of Derringer as he tackle-hugged her from behind.

“Awwww! Vi-vi~ You’re a natural born killer just like the rest of us! Of course you’re all excited by the smell of blood in the water!” It was punctuated by his tittering little giggle once again.

Trebol smiled slyly at the scene. "Always nice to see the family getting along so well. Now– let's get into action."

000

Baby 5’s talent for assassination and penchant for violence weren’t useless on the current mission. Far from it, once they caught up to the bastards hauling Doffy away she’d get her chance to blow them all right back to Mary Geoice in a bunch of tiny little pieces.

But that was when they arrived. So until then she had to make do with the skills that were useful. As good as she was at killing, she wasn’t a half bad cook either. In fact, when it came to cooking and cleaning, she considered herself the best the Family had to frickin’ offer.

She’d taken the galley of the ship for her own, starting up a stew with the few supplies they’d managed to haul onto the ship before their madcap flight out of Dressrosa. She didn’t stop (she couldn’t stop) putting her all into it if it meant giving the crew the strength they needed to save Doffy from the navy’s filthy hands.

She couldn’t believe that they were actually doing it, chasing down the navy itself to save him after their world fell to pieces around them. She’d liked Dressrosa. It suited her temperament, even if Dofy kept killing anyone who tried sliding into her life with a request or marriage proposal. But all good things had to come to an end, right? Dressrosa went up in smoke for the Donquixote Pirates, stabbed in the back by two of their own. Law…Law was not going to be forgiven any time soon.

Her brother, her peer, welcomed into the family right alongside her only to push her aside as if she meant nothing while he tore the young master’s life to shreds.

And Violet. Violet who she had hated in the flaring moment of emotion when she turned her back on them for her jackass birth family– but who had come back despite her victory and offered to save them all.

When she thought about it, she found herself cutting vegetables even faster with her transformed arm.

"How small you planning to cut those, Baby 5?" a familiar voice drawled behind her.

“Until they frickin’ disappear in the broth.” She grumbled sharply before looking over her shoulder, her dark hair fallen in her face. “hey Di.”

He put his hand heavily on her shoulder, looking at her with a tense expression. "You look like you've been at that a while. I'm gonna need you to take a break with me, alright?"

“Ghhh…” She felt the old urge welling within her. He’d made a pretty firm request after all– it’d make him happy if she complied…

She shook her hand as it transformed back to its human state and sighed “alright, alright…you need me to, right?”

He squeezed her shoulder. "I'm getting tired just looking at you chopping those veggies," he chuckled. "I need you to take a break."

It was like a lance through her. He needs me. He needs me to take a break so I don’t overwork. She gripped the side of the counter before she turned and snapped a salute to him with a wide grin. “You know I’m always happy to help, Di! I’ll take a little break. The stew needs to simmer a while anyway!”

He slapped her companionably on the back, and took out his cigarettes. "Good girl. Pull up a chair. Wanna share a smoke with me?"

“You’re speaking my language!” She laughed as she kicked a chair over towards him, and went to grab one herself. “I’ve been trying not to chain through mine too fast. Dunno how long we’re gonna be on the sea.”

He grabbed the back of the chair as it spun toward him and stepped over it to sit down. "Probably smart. I got a bag of tobacco with me so I can roll em if we get desperate but," he shook his head. "I hope it ain't gonna be too long."

He pulled a cigarette out and offered it to her.

“Me neither…” She grabbed the cigarette and stuck it between her lips. It was one of her earliest vices…and absolutely her favorite of the bunch.

“You don’t think it’ll be too long till we catch up to Doffy, right?”

"Doesn't look like it." He leaned forward and lit her up with a flick of his lighter. "Apparently, we've got some unexpected help. Well. More unexpected help."

“You’re talking about Violet, right?” Baby 5 asked. “or…is there something else I’m missing?”

"Violet's unexpected help," he said. "But she's already accounted for. The more unexpected help is apparently Crocodile's coming after Doffy too."

Baby’s dark eyes widened as she took a puff of her cigarette. “you’re shittin’ me! Sir Crocodile of the Warlords? Mr. ‘Alabasta’s Dark Hero’? He’s on his way to save Doffy??”

Diamante grinned, cupping his hand around his own cigarette as he lit it. "Yep. Derringer caught it on the radio chatter, and Vi confirmed it."

She whistled low under her breath.

“Oh that’s useful to know…he’s gonna be a big help if he’s really after the young master…” She rolled her cigarette between her fingers before she asked. “Is he hot? Sir Crocodile, I mean. I’ve seen the wanted poster and all but…”

Diamante choked on his cigarette and pulled it out of his mouth, coughing into his hand. "Sir Crocodile? Is he hot? Uh…"

Baby 5 couldn't help but notice he'd gotten a bit red. Maybe it was all the coughing.

Her smile crept over her face. “So that’s a yes, right?”

Di rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean, I wouldn't say he's exactly my type, but I guess he's pretty good looking, yeah."

Baby 5 took a long drag off her cigarette before she said. “Good to know. If he helps us save the young master, I might just see if he ‘needs me’ for a night. As thanks.”

"Glllh…. Baby 5, you can't just–" he dragged his hand down his face with exasperation for a moment before realization started to dawn. "You're just trying to work me up, aren't you?"

She laughed loudly as her hand slapped against the arm of the chair. “Gotcha, Di!” She giggled with a broad grin, leaning on her hand. “worked, didn’t it?”

He waved his hand, grinning bashfully now. "Yeah, yeah it worked, it worked."

Baby 5 chuckled as she took a slow drag off her cigarette and tipped her chair back on its legs to look at the ceiling. “I’m just trying to have some fun. It’s been…it’s been emotional, hasn’t it? Losing Dressrosa, losing the young master…Violet betraying us and comin’ back.”

"It's had its ups and downs, that's for sure," he rasped, shaking his head. "I sure didn't see… any of it. I guess it could have gone worse, but not by much."

“You think she’s really gonna stay with us?” Baby 5 asked, not caring that she could be listening in from anywhere. “...I don’t think I could stand it if she left again.”

He sighed, and took a puff off his cigarette. "Yeah, me neither. Don't think any of us could. There'd be bloodshed, one way or another."

The door creaked open, drawing Baby’s attention instantly as her reply froze on her lips “There sure would be, but I’ll be real I’m ti—”

Violet herself peeked her head in. “...I came to see what smelt so good now that I’m out of my meeting with Tre.”

"Hey Vi," Diamante nodded, toward her. He gestured toward Baby 5 with his cigarette. "Baby's cookin."

Baby 5 snorted softly as she tapped her cigarette over the edge of her chair’s arm. “right now I’m resting, actually.”

Violet slipped inside, and Baby couldn’t help but stare. Violet was one of her closest friends in the organization, right up there with Buffalo and Sugar. She’d shared great times and bad with the family…Baby thought she’d needed them as much as they needed her.

It stung when she seemed to prove them wrong– she went crawling back to the Rikus, proving that maybe she never needed them at all.

The dancer– the assassin– .pulled up a chair and took a seat. “Whatever you’re doing, it’s making me hungry.”

"Me too," Diamante nodded. He glanced over Baby 5's way, perhaps recognizing her discomfort. "Haven't had a big family meal in a while, and probably can't have one now. But Baby's stews smells pretty good, eh?"

But she still came back, didn’t she? She should have been walking on air, living that perfect princess life that people talked about even in the dregs of the world they’d all grown up in. But when she came back to them she looked more miserable than ever…and even genuinely relieved when she was welcomed back into the family.

It was enough to make Baby’s head spin.

“It smells delicious.” Violet leaned on her hand with a smile, her intense eyes seeming to see right through Baby to her deepest thoughts. “I always did love your cooking, Baby. If we’ve got you as the ship cook for this little adventure I don’t need to worry.”

Baby smiled, almost timid with the praise, and rubbed the back of her neck “awwww, don’t butter me up. It’s just a stew. You could do it easy!”

“Not really.” Violet chuckled. “...I wasn’t exactly taught.”

"Could always learn now, ya think?" Di offered, and Baby followed up on with a grin.

“Come on, Vi! It’ll be thanks for that time you taught me to dance.”

It was a good memory, one of the many she’d had with her fellow assassin. It’d been after one of the family’s big celebratory parties, years ago now. It was the first time that Baby had seen Violet open up and smile, instead of curl ever further inwards during those early months with the family.

Violet shifted to watch her with a strange smile for a moment. “As thanks, hm? Well how could I say no to that?”

"Wouldn't be very polite to, now would it?" Di chuckled.

“And I’ve had enough being impolite to my family here,” Violet purred in her warm, low voice. “So Baby 5…give it your all. I’m ready to learn.”

Baby blinked before she nearly tumbled out of her chair, catching herself on a large tripod that sprung from her elbow and straightening herself up with a lopsided grin. “I mean, hell yeah. Maybe if we can get another cook trained up I can get some of this ‘rest’ Trebol keeps harping on about!”

"Don't forget me, I'm harping on about it too." Diamante crossed his arms, grinning.

“W-well yeah…” Baby poked her fingers together. “but I wouldn’t complain about it right in front of you, Di! I mean, you said you needed me, right? So why would I complain about it?”

Violet chuckled softly. “Can I join in to help? She does need to rest more. There’s only so much you can do in a day, right?”

She got up, and leaned against the counter with an expectant tilt of her head.

"See, Baby 5? Vi agrees with me," Di nodded. "Why don't you show her what you need done and she can help you out."

“Damn you guys!” Baby 5 huffed before the grin broke through and she grabbed Violet by the arm “alright. So the first thing is to figure out whatcha gonna put in it…”

000

The stew came out fine– honestly, better than fine. It was fantastic with the guiding hand of Baby 5 and everyone’s efforts. Together with Di and Baby, Violet had put the rest of the meal together over a conversation that never trailed back to betrayal, heartache, and the nightmare of Dressrosa.

Instead, they shared a meal, just like old times. A hearty and heavily spiced beef stew between them, and things almost seemed to be going back to normal. Violet had seen the turmoil in Baby 5’s mind when she’d first walked in…the hurt and anger of the last few days not quite simmered away, but mingled with the genuine joy to see her again.

A complicated opinion even more complicated by Baby 5’s volatile emotions. It was clear as they talked and ate that Baby was desperately looking for an ‘in’ for forgiveness. That she was hoping with all her heart that Violet could explain everything and once more be welcomed as a member of her family. The world had hurt Baby 5, leaving her eager to please and easily wounded by the loss of those she loved, and Violet regretted having twisted the knife back on the island.

By the time they were washing the bowls together, it seemed like she’d found her in– the turmoil quieted into Baby’s usual raucous laughter and big grin as she and Diamante flanked her on either side.

During that lull however, she’d checked in on Admiral Fujitora and his crew with the reach of her powers. The stalemate had been broken, and the Admiral got his way. Their warship was headed towards Mary Geoise.

She’d excused herself quickly and made for Trebol deeper into the ship to alert him to the change in destination.

He found him in a small, more private section of the quarters area talking with Giolla. The woman, often known as "Auntie" or "Gigi" had escaped the fighting mostly unscathed, thankfully and Violet walked into a discussion about art.

Namely, Giolla talking about one of her old ‘mainstays’ from back when the gang was still gaining strength and capital.

“Of course I’ll only do it so long as it takes for the young master to come up with a plan! You know I absolutely loathe realism, tre-tre! But for the family, of course I’ll produce as many fakes as you damn well need!”

"You're a kindly soul, Giolla," Trebol chuckled roughly, shaking his head. "Your forgeries are masterworks really– ah– Violet?"

He turned his head, noticing as she approached.

Giolla glanced up at her, the light catching her cats-eye glasses. “Oh my my, sweetheart! I’d heard you’d come back to us, but didn’t quite believe it until I saw it with my own eyes!”

The older woman had always treated her well , even in the early days of her time among the pirates. Her affable, gossipy demeanor and doting, motherly concern had almost made it feel normal in the days when she was still forcing down the part of herself that would later turn it’s back on her birth family.

Violet ducked her head with a sheepish smile. “Hello Gigi. I know, it’s a miracle isn’t it? But I’m here, I promise.”

"A real miracle," Trebol said with a thin smile. "Did you come just to join the gossip?"

“In a manner of speaking.” Violet said as she took a seat nearby. “May I? I know the wound’s still fresh.”

‘Auntie’ Giolla waved her hand with a laugh, her freckled shoulders shaking as she grinned her broad and infectious smile. “Enough of that! You know I’ve always loved your gossip, Vi-vi.”

Derringer had absolutely picked up his love of cutesy nicknames from Giolla, Violet didn’t even have to guess for that one.

“Admiral Fujitora’s managed to win the argument over the G-5 supply run. The Navy Warship is headed straight to Mary Geoise.”

Trebol exhaled with tight frustration. "I was worried that would happen. Hang it all. Well. At least we have our backup plan, considering. Unless you have more bad news."

Giolla twisted a lock of her thick hair around her clever artist’s fingers, the sharp and painted tip sparkling in the light as she pursed her lips. “Did the big croccy have a change of heart?”

“Not as far as I’m aware.” Violet shook her head, pressing her hand to her forehead with a weary smile. “I think we’re still on track there. We should point towards Mary Geoise…if there’s a chance we can catch up, we should take it.”

"Indeed." Trebol nodded, grumbling and clearing his throat. "We'll change course immediately, then. If nothing else, we'll want to catch up to Crocodile after he catches up with them. I'll have to see if we have any way of contacting him in the meantime…"

“Oh, if only I knew the code to his transponder snail!” Giolla bemoaned. “you know, I’ve heard a little of his exploits recently! Did you know he’s got a resident artist as well? They were all over the newspaper after they got accused of kidnapping that Princess Vivi girl!”

Violet raised her eyebrow.

“I didn’t know that…” she paused for a moment before the idea struck. She smiled thinly. “Oh! Tre!!” “...I’m going to scout his ship more effectively. Maybe the code’s written down somewhere, or maybe I’ll overhear it.”

"Hah!" Trebol clapped his hands with a wider smile. "Clever girl, I was just about to suggest that."

Giolla cooed, and reached over to rustle Violet’s hair– something so familiar that it made Violet laugh with a tinge of a flush. “You’re such a smart girl, Vi-vi~. I don’t even want to imagine what we’d really do without you!”

Violet leaned on her hand with a lopsided smile. “We’re on the same page again. I’m thinking if I can get it we can relay a message to them within a few hours when we get into range.”

She grinned at Giolla “I could say the same…the royal family doesn’t know how to use my talents.”

"Wonderful, wonderful. Let's head up to the deck then and get this ship on course, shall we?" He held a hand out. "Violet, be a dear and help me up?"

Violet stood immediately and walked over to take his hand and help him up as she’d often done during family meetings over the last ten years of her life.

“Absolutely, Tre.” she steadied him with a hand on his back. “Once we’re on course, we’re one step closer to getting Doffy back.”

#donquixote doflamingo #viola one piece #violet one piece #donquixote family #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #archive of our own #ao3 #darkfic #dark fic #fic: unbound by blood #giolla #dellinger

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wedreamedlove · 8 months ago

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Hi! I wanted to ask about the sleeping habits of the four L&N guys (if this hasn't been answered before). I was looking at Evan's Illustration from the recent Dreamland event and It was so telling (but since I don't play I could be mislead about if this is his normal or not). I thought it was pretty sweet that he uses what it looks like a picture of the heroine as a placeholder for his book.

I also want to say I was looking at the tiny house layouts of Evan, Sariel and Osborn and I was thinking a lot about it (from a superficial perspective since again I don't play and don't know enough) but I really really loved Evan's design because is not crowded (you can see everything, there is nothing to hide... maybe this is bad, Sir you know what is a curtain?) and it has almost all the essentials: a kitchen to have dinner together and a bet to rest and I totally love the detail of how they used the dead space below the staircase to insert a complete bathroom (I want to believe there is a W.C. at the end of the space since you only have to sit so the height fits ok). I also like how there is access to the balcony that is also a tiny garden and there is another staircase with access to the roof to catch the direct sun. I love the modular design of the windows and is pretty much this type of European design done to catch the warm in places where there is not enough sunlight, so is just feels incredible cozy (but it will scorch you alive in a hot place since is a literal cristal box). All this theme with the hot air balloon gimme this feeling of "Living with the head in the clouds" and "Up there with the birds" and is very touching to me.

Osborn is literally living in a fish tank (or a shark tank? more likely), his layout only prioritized three things that was: The living room, his office space and his dinning room to share with you. His working space is full of personality since you can see his headphones, a record player and some vinyl records here and there (I really loved his picture where I could see he owns many Queen records and Daft Punk was there too and that gimme a chuckle, is this really him as a person?). What I don't like much is how that coral reef makes everything too crowded, is taking a lot of space! or is like this barrier is there to hide the view or to hide and protect something. I also think about ... he didn't used to have a phobia to water but he is still there jumping into the water? The guy is unhinged. Another funny thing is that his home don't have a roof (maybe because is going with this vibe of "shark tank" but I wouldn't mind dinning looking at the stars or the waves in this case).

Sariel's layoud only has three essential things: His living room, a big library-room/study-room and the amount of green around all the place. The library is so precious, I love how the natural light enters in this house. Bad thing is I find odd how tiny his living room is, the couch is so tiny, is just there in a corner lol. The other thing I don't like is the amount of dead space bellow the staircase, just look all that dead space! you could make something there, like make a extension to your library Sir. Is because of the placement of the stairs it makes everything weird, but ok??. We have green everywhere, we have a green-roof. I love how the plants here work giving a lot of shadow and that keeps the temperature nice and pleasant in the rooms, like walking under a road of trees in a hot day (I think this is the literal "Light and Night" layout lol there is a lot of the two). The plants here also act like a barrier to hide from the view but also make everything more cozy. Also this man doesn't eat???.

I want to see Jesse's house layout so bad hahaha. I was trying to dig for the illustrations of their homes to make a comparison but I don't know where I saw them (maybe a thread on twitter). I do remember Evan's manor was so dark lol (that is funny looking a how sunny and cozy is the other tiny house), from Osborn I remember his workplace, Sariel's one was so in line with his oriental style and Jesse's was so sunny and just like him.

first, thank you for such a long comment! i love hearing other people's thoughts, so this was a treat to read.

second, their house layouts in the dream series is interesting because we know what their actual homes look like with the artbook giving us a full illustration. i think their dream house reveal more of their subconscious and the elements they gravitate towards.

i completely agree with you about how cozy Evan's house looks and, funnily enough, everyone's first impression seems to be that it's quite spacious. there's nods to repeated themes for his character, like the warm colors for a sunset, all the teddy bears, and his birthday this year had a hot air balloon ride. i think the main theme for his dream house is supposed to be freedom because he's grown up in such restricting environments

i'm not going to lie, i like Osborn's dream house the least so far because i don't like the deep sea and, much like you, it feels crowded and almost claustrophobic because of the reefs and dark colors. haha, he really does like vinyl records and music, especially rock and roll! yup, he had a phobia of water (thanks to being tortured as a youth) but he forced himself to overcome his phobia and now he really enjoys the water. i'm not sure what theme they were going for his dream house other than giving a nod to his water themes.

i really like how Sariel's house blends the nature of the plants with the architecture. it's amusing that he has the library focus instead of Evan, but i suppose it also fits Sariel and his collection of knowledge (merely from existing for over 3000 years). his house also has a very spacious and freeing theme, but with more privacy because of the foliage that covers things. it just feels a lot like the design of this layout is "one with nature".

we'll probably see Jesse and Charlie's dream series in april, so it'll be here soon!

#answered asks #torposopla

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alinefrank · 2 years ago

Text

LA LUNA Y EL MAR. #2

Namor x MayaFem! Reader

PART #1

hi!

I have to clarify a few things before you read:

I’m not Maya but I tried to be as respectful as possible by integrating different details of the culture.

I don’t speak Maya but I used a Spanish-Maya translator from the Mayan Intercultural University of Quintana Roo who helped me to be able to make the reader speak Maya, I apologize if there are any mistake.

Since English is not my first language, I use DeepL translator so that the text is in English, I apologize if there is any grammar mistake or if there are parts that are meaningless. Let me know if you see something.

DISCLAIMER: The protagonist is Mayan by birth and speaks Mayan as well as English (although in the original version it is Spanish but it is translated, anyways), the name of the reader town is not mentioned because I didn’t think of anything.

COMMENT, LIKE AND REBLOG IF YOU LIKE. LET ME READ YOUR OPINIONS.

PART 3

I couldn't stop thinking about him.

That bothered me.

A long time ago I was no longer an inexperienced child who got excited when she felt butterflies in her stomach, even then I should have protected and cared for my people, but I have grown up and I should have learned to do it without distractions.

It was probably the times I dreamt about that man that caused me to not be able to get him out of my head.

Or even the insatiable desire I had to go swimming in the sea, with the slightest desire for him to be there.

It was ridiculous, this situation.

Even the council and my warriors asked me what had happened that afternoon, but I could not explain the situation logically so I simply played it down and gave them no further details.

I could not let a man who proposed to me to be his queen in such a disrespectful way, come and affect my thoughts day and night.

Even the goddess Moon had abandoned me and was not watching over my dreams and my rest as she let that underwater man break into my mind and play with it at night.

A few weeks had passed since that meeting and the day had come to commemorate my birth.

I could no longer think of that Namor.

I shouldn't.

People were laughing and dancing in my honour, families had cooked delicious dishes and offered them to me, it would be disrespectful not to give them the attention they deserved.

The atmosphere was festive, it had been that way for a week before the big day.

I was surrounded by my council as I watched children run and dance all around, couples enjoying each other's company and warmth as musicians brightened up the night.

As the moon was about to reach its highest point, out of the undergrowth, he appeared.

Namor was in front of my people and in front of me.

Behind him were some of his soldiers, they were blue and had a strange mask on their faces, all carrying weapons that looked lethal, very similar to ours.

The people were startled at the sight of the fish men and began to panic, with just a wave of my hand, I shushed them.

The jungle went completely silent.

All that could be heard was the crackling of the fire and the footsteps of one of the fish men, a woman wearing beautiful orange headdresses and animal bones.

“K'uk'ulkan, máako' u Talokan, taalak u solicitar junp'éel múuch'tambale' yéetel le ko'olelo' Ix chel" ("K'uk'ulkan, lord of Talokan, has come to request a meeting with Mrs. Ix chel").

This one walked to the front, he wore a beautiful cloak with finely made embroidery, it seemed to contain threads of gold, on his head was a beautiful arrangement resembling that of a feathered serpent as his name described it and precious jewels covered his chest.

He raised his hand and some of his men left at the foot of my throne, bread, chocolate and brandy, together with some jewellery made of Jade and some beautiful flowers that I had never seen before.

His audacity was impressive.

It was beginning its courting process on the day when all my people were gathered, praising and celebrating me.

Something that deep down inside made me tingle.

I got up from my seat, and walked down the steps that separated us, he offered me his hand as he looked at me like a hungry animal, I took it and headed towards my people.

"K'aame'ex le yu'ulabo'ob yéetel ma' cha'ake'ex u máansik utsil!" (Welcome the guests and don't stop enjoying yourselves).

It took them a few seconds to integrate.

A little girl ran up to the woman who spoke when they arrived and after saying something to her that I couldn't hear, took her hand and led her to her family.

When I saw this, I turned and my eyes went to Namor.

"Follow me, let's talk somewhere more private."

He nodded and started walking beside me.

My council looked at me worried and waiting for some indication but I just nodded my head and headed home.

"Teech ka wilik ki'ichpam" (You look beautiful).

Namor wasted no time in scanning my figure.

My voluminous black hair fell down my back adorned with the snake-like headdress I wore at important ceremonies, my gold jewellery and our star mineral, Jade. My white suit contrasting with my skin tone and my two wristbands shining with the light of the fire that illuminated our path.

When we arrived at my enclosure, an underground Cenote away from the hustle and bustle, I turned to him with the intention of reclaiming his boldness.

"Your people and mine are in danger."

My blood froze and my claim was forgotten.

"You can't come, with guns and warriors to tell me that my people and my territory is in danger, I need an explanation, now!"

"A few days ago my people discovered a machine 150 kilometres off your coast, they were extracting that mineral that you love so much and that has kept our people safe."

My heart froze.

"My people finished that thing, but if they have more, it will be a danger”

"Wa ku kaxtiko'ob asab, ku talo'ob in lu'um yéetel tia'alo'." (If they look for more, they will come to my land and yours.) I told him understanding the seriousness of the matter.

"Yaan k k xu'ulul yéetel leti'ob" (We have to finish them off).

"Ma'" (No)

I said forcefully

"Bin tuméen leti'ob chéen k ts'áabal ti' talamilo'ob, acabaste yéetel le amenaza, Teene' yaan in meentik k'ek'eno' wa ku tal waye'" (Going after them only puts us in danger, you ended the threat, I will do the same if they come here).

His gaze darkened and he clenched his jaw, his mouth didn't say it but he disagreed with me, it was obvious he wanted us to attack together.

"Ma' u páajtal k p'atik vuelvan" (We can't let them come back).

"Ba'ale' mina'an je'el u páajtal k bin in ch'a' le, lelo' ya'ab talamilo'ob, utia'al a máak yéetel utia'al utia'al u mía" (But we can't go looking for them either, that's too much danger, for your people and for mine).

"I didn't think you would allow the audacity of those men," he said to me with disguised annoyance.

"I allowed your insolence about bringing me premarital gifts to my village, with all my people present, even though I told you I did not accept your ridiculous offer."

His face changed from the scowl he maintained, to a half-laugh of pure coquetry.

"I apologise for making my first proposal in such a hasty manner."

"I should punish you for daring so much, when I already told you no."

Deep in my breast, that act of rebellion fanned the flame I had longed to quench.

His shoulders slumped and he said nothing for a few seconds.

"Come with me to Talokan," he begged, "Meet my home and see all that surrounds me.”

I hesitated for a second

"You live under the sea and I can't hold my breath that long" my excuse seemed to have worked as it took him a few seconds to regain his speech.

"It's true, you couldn't go like that, your bones wouldn't resist the pressure of the ocean, you would die of hypothermia and your lungs would collapse" he said as he brought his face dangerously close to mine.

"And how do you think I will meet Talokan?" my eyes connected with his and one of my hands rested on his chest.

I felt his breath on my face and if I did not wish to marry him and believed him to be a barbarian as he had repeated to me for the last few weeks, my attitude did not conform to this and neither did the urge to attack his lips.

"In suut ta wo'olal sáamal ken le k'iino' ka'ansaje' táan hiding u, Taas wéetel le loolo'obo' tin kíinsa'ab tu táan a trono ka conociás in wotoch ti' le ka le ujo' ilumine k beel" (I will return for you tomorrow when the sun is setting, bring with you the flowers I leave in front of your throne and you will know my home when the moon illuminates our path).

His voice hypnotised me and noticing the dangerous proximity, I tried to move away, but a strong hand grabbed me by the waist.

"I will bring no soldiers or weapons, it will just be you and me at the place where our meeting was first interrupted" his way of speaking was appealing in every way.

It took me only a second to realise that maybe it wasn't wrong once in a while to go back to my youth and escape from the council and go to the beach.

Satisfying my more primitive senses such as the desire for adventure was something I had put aside a long time ago.

"I'll see you there," I said.

He smiled and shook my hand to return to the celebration.

[...]

It was a lot easier to escape the council than I thought it would be.

All my people were tired of the celebration and security had been reduced so that my soldiers could spend time with their families.

I took those strange flowers and wrapped them in my white dress, heading for the beach as the sun began to turn orange.

When I arrived I dropped them on the beach and waited only a few seconds.

As promised, Namor came out of the sea and walked towards me, holding a mortar in his hands.

"Ma' tin wóotaj in meentik a pa'atik" (I didn't want to keep you waiting).

"K'uchen chéen jump'íit ka'ache'" (I arrived just a little early).

He gave me a smile full of innocence and began to crush the flowers while explaining why doing this was essential for me to get to know Talokan.

"Will I become the same as your men?" I asked with the mortar in my hands, holding it to my lips.

"Its effect will allow you to go to Talokan, you will become a mutant like me but the moon goddess gave you the role of protector and I will not prevent you from fulfilling it, no matter how much in love I am with you."

Her words reassured me and provoked a slight smile on my face.

"I trust you, K'uk'ulkan" and I took the mixture she prepared for me.

When I finished it, he wiped the corners of my lips and held out his hand.

"Ko'ox" (Let's go) he encouraged me.

Our hands intertwined and we both stood up, just as he said, the moon illuminating our field of vision and giving a pearly hue to our brown skin.

We walked together to the sea and when we reached the shore, he turned to look at me and wrapped my hands in his.

"If for some reason you don't feel comfortable there, let me know and I'll walk every ocean on the planet so I can please you".

My heart did a flip and I just nodded gawking.

When our feet stopped touching the sand, we began to swim into the depths.

My lungs began to itch and I wondered if the mixture had worked, but as I was about to return to the surface, I felt a change, my skin burned for a few seconds and the lack of air was no longer a problem.

"You're ready to visit Talokan," Namor admired.

We descended and descended to a point where the sunlight no longer reached, my body was unharmed, Namor made a movement with his hands and a swift current appeared.

"When he held out his hand, I didn't hesitate for a second and it was the best decision I could have made.

We moved quickly and aggressively to some extent, my head was spinning and being the first time I was here, I felt disoriented.

When I finished, I regained my stability and that's when I saw him.

A beautiful city lay before my eyes.

The magnitude of it was incomparable.

The first thing I saw was a beautiful throne that had the teeth of a shark as an ornament, which made it look big, terrifying.

Imposing.

"I brought the sun to my people" Namor, who at some point stood behind me, approached my back and grabbed me by the waist, with that grip, he made me turn around and appreciate everything around me.

"Jats'uts" (It's beautiful) really, there was no word to describe what I was seeing.

"Yaan in ka'ansik teech tuláakal" (I will teach you everything) he took my hand again and we swam together.

The people of Talokan greeted Namor and showed him their respect, it was clear that he loved his people and cared for them, some of his warriors greeted him and exchanged information about how everything had remained peaceful.

"I hope you don't mind if we move a little away from the centre, it's just that I want to show you something, a little more private," we swam a little more in a quiet silence.

When we reached what looked like stairs, Namor came out first and held out his hand to help me out.

I walked out of the water and smoothed my dripping hair and the dress tightened around my body.

"Le wíiniko'obo' Talokan, tu beetaj le ba'ala' teechi'" (The people of Talokan, made this for you).

He extended to me a beautiful costume typical of the city.

"Kin ts'áik ti' teech kúuchil utia'al a ts'áik ti' teech" (I'll give you room to wear it).

Namor withdrew and I was able to get rid of my wet clothes and put that work of art on my body.

When he returned to where I was, he praised the way I looked and guided me through the building, which was lit with a dim light that gave it a cosy aura.

We passed a beautiful frame that divided the two rooms, and as we entered the second room, I noticed how the walls were filled with beautiful paintings.

It took me a second to realise something.

It was our history painted on the walls.

The first was the meeting between our versions as children.

Then there was the image of him flying in front of me.

The third was the journey through Talokan that we had made just a short while ago.

The fourth was our wedding, my face was painted red.

And the last one was a beautiful painting divided in half where one half was representing his village and the other half mine, in the middle of it, we were both with a baby.

"Ta boonaj wáaj le ba'ala'." (Did you paint this?)

I turned around so I could see him, his eyes were shining and it took him a few seconds to react to my question, when he did he nodded embarrassed.

"Kaj in pintar tu ya'ab k'iin paachil" (I started painting it a long time ago).

He stood next to me.

"How did you know this would happen?" the trip to Talokan was something that had just happened.

"I didn't know, I just wished for it."

His breathing was calm, he stroked the painting and turned to look at me, noticing that my attention was focused on the last phase of the story.

"Ba'ax ku yúuchul." (What's going on?)

"It's just that, you and I are not a couple, yet" my fingers ran across the painting and for the first time in many years I felt embarrassed and wanted to run away.

"But we will be," he said confidently, bringing his face close to mine.

"How can you be so sure of that?" I leaned closer to him and the atmosphere felt magical again.

"I know that you too feel how our hearts dance in the same tune from the first moment our eyes connected," his strong arms wrapped around my waist.

And that's when it all came crashing down.

I kissed him.

And it was the best decision I could have made.

Our lips connected and all the stars in the universe shone brighter.

My hands caressed his chest and his hands rested on my back, he began to caress me in a loving way and I felt everything I had repressed the centuries I have lived, was released.

"J-oken ti' teen a pixan" I said breaking away from his addictive lips. (Give me your soul.)

"In wíinkilililil, pool yéetel pixan le a tia'al tak u u yáax súutukil le ku kaxanta'al k wicho'ob" his words made my heart flutter. (My body, mind and soul are yours from the first moment our eyes met.)

It was a fact.

I was in love with Namor.

[...]

The sun was beginning to rise and we went back to the beach.

We got out of the sea and he came closer to me to kiss again, or so I thought.

"P'úulech tin wéetel" he took my face and looked at me eager to hear an answer. (Marry me)

"Forget the colonisers and forget the war, if you ask me to, I would never raise a weapon again, unless it is to protect you" his voice showed the purest sentiment.

It was laden with love.

"Ma'alob, ts'o'okol k beel" (All right, let's get married).

And for the first time in my long life, the idea of marriage didn't seem so overwhelming or terrifying.

He kissed me again and I let myself go.

The rhythm he was keeping enveloped us in a harmonious dance.

"I must go," I said to him once I broke away from him.

"I'll be back in a few days to talk to the council and your people.

I nodded and we said goodbye.

He returned to the sea, but not before seeing me once more so that he could sink and disappear from my sight.

I quickly made my way back to my village.

When I arrived, everything was quiet, the bad thing was that the council was gathered in my house, waiting for my return.

"Ko'olelo' Ixchel, yaan u ts'o'okol waye'" (Lady Ixchel, you are here at last).

The older one, looked at me and invited me to sit down, clearly the clothes I was wearing were somewhat different from ours and my hair, totally wet, gave a sign of where I might have been.

"Yaan ba'ax u k'áat ya'al k." (Is there something you want to tell us?)

"K'uk'ulkan, máako' u Talokan yéetel teene', k tukultik u ts'o'okol k." (K'uk'ulkan, lord of Talokan and I have decided to get married).

I said it without further ado, for if I had decided to accept my future husband's proposal, I had to start with the preparations. And contrary to the reaction I expected, everyone present was overflowing with joy.

"We are happy that you have found your partner, great lady," said one of the wisest women in this community, she was like a mother to me.

And just imagining my mother and how happy it would have made her to know that I was finally getting married, I got a lump in my throat.

"Leti' yaan u taal ichil ichil jump'éel k'iino'ob tsikbal yéetel tuláakal To'one'" (He will come in a few days to talk to all of us) I cleared my voice and regained my posture.

I was going to marry Namor.

Yes, there will be a third part.

TAG LIST: @deliciousfestsalad @clea-strange-is-the-way @neenieweenie @queenotaku23 @avsphroeg @agustdeeyaa @aniia-x3 @littlet-holmes @caldodemazapangourmet @meanlilbean @valkyrie9

Thank you very much for your support

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