#last seen walking out onto the docks
Text
Faithfully
Title: Faithfully
Song Inspiration: Faithfully by Journey
Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, other SPN characters
Word Count: 4, 904
Warnings: Pregnancy
Author's Note: This was an anonymous request. Such a beautiful song and so perfect for Dean. Thanks for the idea Anon!!
Highway run into the midnight sun,
Wheels go ‘round and ‘round, you’re on my mind,
Restless hearts, sleep alone tonight,
Sendin’ all my love along the wire.
“Another?” The bartender asks Dean, pointing to the beer he’d been nursing for a while.
“No thanks. Work tomorrow,” Dean tells him, tossing some cash onto the bar. He and Sam had rolled into town a little earlier in the day. Some case Sam had found; a witch or shifter or…something. Dean couldn’t remember.
“Leaving so soon?” A sultry voice asks. Dean looks over to find a gorgeous, young blonde sliding onto the booth beside him. She tosses her hair over her shoulder and leans forward to highlight her ample breasts. A hand reaches for his knee but Dean catches her wrist.
“Sorry, Sweetheart. Not happening,” he tells her, letting her go. She rolls her eyes and stands, moving to her next target. Dean laughs lightly, shaking his head.
A few years ago, that would have been all the invitation he’d have needed. They would have wandered out to the Impala, maybe made it back to her place for a night of meaningless sex, and he would have returned to Sam first thing in the morning, satisfied. But all that had changed almost a year ago.
As he heads out of the bar and into the cold, he pulls his phone out, smiling at the screen. The picture that greets him is one of his favorites. It’s from the small “vacation” the two of you had taken only a couple months ago. It was one of Bobby’s old safe houses he’d told Dean about; a beautiful little cabin out by a lake. Dean had snapped the picture of you sitting on the small dock, feet dangling off the edge. You’d teased him about pursuing a career in photography after seeing it.
He finds your name with ease and calls as he climbs into the driver’s seat of his car. It rings twice before you pick up.
“Hey,” you answer. Dean smiles immediately at your voice.
“Hey,” he replies. “Bad time?”
“For you? Never,” you laugh lightly. He smiles even wider at your laugh.
“Still in Utah?” The familiar sound of the Impala’s engine roaring to life comes through the phone.
“Yea. Found the nest though. Taking it out tonight,” you tell him, as you lean back against your car.
“On your own?” Dean asks, voice laced with concern.
“No, Dean,” you say, smiling to yourself. “I’m not stupid, ya know?”
“That’s not what I meant, Y/N,” he says. “Just…you know…”
“Awwww. You worried about me, Winchester?” You tease him, pushing off the car and walking to your trunk.
“Always,” he admits, almost too quietly for you to hear. Almost. Your smile softens as you open the trunk, glancing around at your weapons.
“You just calling to check up on me?” You ask, pulling a machete out to check the blade.
“No…just…missed you,” he confesses. You swing the machete around quickly to test it out. “Haven’t seen you since…”
“The cabin,” you finish. “I know. I miss you too.”
The two of you had been off and on for the majority of the time you’d known each other. It had mostly been a friends with benefits situation until last year. Suddenly, you were way more on than off. It was starting to feel like a real relationship. You hadn’t slept with anyone else and Dean said he hadn’t. You trusted him, of course.
“I’ve been thinking…” Dean starts, seemingly getting the subject away from…feelings.
“Haven’t hurt yourself, have ya?” You ask. You can practically hear Dean roll his eyes.
“Will you shut up? I’m trying to be serious here,” he tells you. You laugh and slam the trunk closed, machete in hand. Your cousin’s car pulls up, parking next to your own. You smile and wave at her.
“Serious. Right. Sorry. Go ahead,” you say.
“I was thinking you should come to the bunker,” he says. You smile and roll your eyes.
“I was planning to come by after this,” you tell him. He sighs and cuts the engine off, having reached the motel.
“No, Y/N. That’s not what I meant,” he says. You hold up a finger to your cousin, asking her to give you a minute when she gets out of the car. “You should move…into the bunker…with me.” You’re mid swing on the machete when he asks, causing you to freeze. The machete slips from your hand, landing near your cousin.
“Jesus, Y/N!!” She snaps. You wave a hand at her in apology as you walk away.
“What are you saying, Dean?” You asks. He lets out a chuckle.
“I’m saying that…I’ve really started to hate sleeping alone, sleeping without you. I hate waking up without you,” he starts. “Now, I don’t wanna tie you down or anything. Do your hunts, whatever you want. I just want the bunker to be…home.” You hold the phone away for a moment and breathe deeply. You were mere moments from clearing a vampire nest. You weren’t about to cry. Returning the phone to your ear, you can’t help but smile.
“Dean,” you say. “I’ll go anywhere you go. You’re already my home.” Dean smiles and closes his eyes for a second, thanking anyone who was listening.
They say that the road ain’t no place to start a family,
Right down the line, it’s been you and me,
And lovin’ a music man ain’t always what it’s supposed to be,
Oh, girl, you stand by me,
I’m forever yours,
Faithfully.
You walk into the kitchen of the bunker one morning, stretching. Sam’s already sitting at the table, his laptop open in front of him. You smile at him widely and walk over, kissing his cheek quickly.
“Morning, Sammy,” you tell him. He looks at you and laughs lightly.
“Good morning,” he says, watching as you walk over to the counter, humming. You pour yourself a cup of coffee, swaying to the music in your head. “You’re awful perky this morning.”
“Am I?” You ask, glancing back at him. He laughs and nods. You shrug, leaning against the counter.
“I guess you two had a good Valentine's Day?” He asks.
“We had a great Valentine’s Day,” you laugh.
“Well, I’m glad,” Sam tells you, looking back at his computer. Dean comes in, a smile to rival yours plastered on his face. He walks over and kisses you quickly before getting his own coffee. Sam looks at the two of you and starts to laugh. “Is that a hickey??” He asks. You and Dean exchange glances before Dean moves your hair from your shoulder, examining your neck briefly. He smirks.
“Looks like it,” he says. You laugh and shrug at Sam.
“I said it was great,” you tell him. Dean smiles and pulls you in for another kiss, your arms snaking around his neck.
“I found a case. If either of you care,” Sam announces. Dean sighs as he let you go and turns to his brother, taking a drink of his coffee. “Stacy Altman, 19 year old babysitter from Hudson, Ohio was murdered last night,” he says. Dean nods slightly.
“Oh, that blows. But if her name’s not Amara, how is that us?” He asks. You lean against Dean and he wraps his arm around your waist.
“Because her heart was ripped out,” Sam tells you both. You grimace and Dean nods.
“On Valentine’s Day? What is that, like an ironic werewolf? Alright, we’ll check it out. But first, I need bacon.” Dean gives your waist a squeeze then looks down at you. “You coming?”
“Think I’ll hang back, keep working this Amara thing,” you tell him, going to leave the kitchen. Dean smirks and gives your ass a quick smack. You let out a squeak of surprise and look back at him as you go into the hallway. You just hear Sam mutter something about the two of you being disgusting as you head back towards your bedroom.
Glancing over your shoulder, you close the door behind you before locking yourself in the bathroom. You look at yourself in the mirror, take a deep breath, then pick up the stick you had left on the counter earlier.
“Please be negative,” you mumble a quick prayer.
You and Dean had only been together for about a year. You were both hunters. God’s sister was currently on the loose and very much out to end the world. This had to be the absolute worst timing. The two of you hadn’t even discussed starting a family. It certainly wasn't on your radar and you couldn’t imagine it was on Dean’s either.
You’d bought the pregnancy test a few days ago when your period failed to make its monthly appearance. You hadn’t mentioned anything to Dean yet, didn’t want him freaking out over nothing. Cause that’s all this was, of course. Nothing.
The timer you had set on your phone goes off and you nearly jump out of your skin. You flip the test over and…
**
About a day later, Dean pulls the Impala into the garage of the bunker. He sighs as he cuts the car off and lays his head against the steering wheel. Sam looks at him and smiles a little.
“Dean, it’s not that big of a deal. It’s not like you cheated on her,” he says. Dean shakes his head slightly.
“Doesn’t feel different,” he says. “We just had this great day, things were going so well…”
“She won’t be upset, Dean. Come on,” he says, getting out of the car. Dean frowns then gets out as well. They both get their bags and then head to their respective bedrooms. Dean tosses his bag into the corner then sits on the edge of the bed, running his hands over his face.
You make your way down to the room nervously, wringing your hands. You’d been practicing your speech ever since you’d read the test. You had it all planned out and were absolutely prepared to tell Dean. That was until he’d told you they were headed home. The minute you’d received that text, your nerves had gotten the better of you. You had been running every possible bad scenario, each one worse than the last.
“Dean?” You ask, stepping into the bedroom. You frown when you see him so distraught. “What’s wrong??” You ask. He pats the spot next to him and you bite your lip as you walk over. He knows. He already knows and he’s breaking up with me. You sit down next to him and he turns to face you.
“This case…it was a witch, a curse…it was passed by kissing. I kissed the woman who had it and got it passed to me so she was safe,” he explains. You let out a breath and take his hands in your own.
“Dean, did you think I’d be upset about that?” You ask with a laugh. He sighs and shakes his head.
“I’m not finished,” he tells you. Your smile falls slightly and he looks at your hands. “The curse, it takes the form of your deepest, darkest desire and then that person or whatever kills you.”
“I’m…guessing that wasn’t me,” you say. He shakes his head. “Amara?” You already knew before he said anything else. From the moment she’d been freed from her cage, she had some weird connection to Dean. It had only been a few weeks since he told you that she’d kissed him and he couldn’t help but kiss her back. It stung, sure, but you knew it wasn’t Dean.
“I don’t want this, Y/N. I don’t want her. I just can’t shake this hold she has on me. Sitting here with you right now, I want nothing more than to kill her,” he starts quickly. “But when I’m around her, I can’t do anything.” You let his hands go and take his face gently, raising it up to meet yours. You press a soft, gentle kiss to his lips.
“I’m not mad at you, Dean. I know you love me. We’ll shake this Amara thing soon enough and get back to normal,” you assure him. “You and me. And…whoever else comes along.” He looks up at you, confused. You smile at him and stand, walking over to the desk. It isn’t until now that Dean notices the small gift bag sitting on it. “It’s a little late for Valentine’s now but…” You shrug and hand him the bag. He raises a skeptical eyebrow at you before pulling the pink and blue tissue paper out of it. He looks into the bag, then up at you quickly.
“Is this…” He stops before sliding the contents of the bag into his hand. His hands shake as he flips it around, trying to find the little screen for confirmation.
Pregnant.
“Oh my god,” he says, staring down at the test in his hand. “This is…”
A mistake. The worst possible timing. Not what I want at all. You brace yourself against the desk behind you, waiting for the death blow.
“This is…incredible,” Dean says finally, looking up at you. There are tears in his eyes threatening to spill over but his face changes the second his eyes meet yours. “Are you okay?” He asks, jumping up quickly. His hands come to rest on your shoulders as he looks you over. “Y/N, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Which…is really saying something for us.”
“You’re happy,” you say quietly, looking at him. His brow furrows in confusion as he takes in your state.
“What? Of course I’m happy!! I mean…” He stops and shrugs. “Timing could be better but…a baby!!” He lets out a laugh and lifts you into a tight hug, spinning you around the room. You squeal and laugh as well, tears of sheer joy and relief streaming down your cheeks. “I’m gonna be a dad!! Sammy!!” He calls out, setting you on your feet. He grabs your hand and pulls you down the hallway quickly.
Circus life under the big-top world,
We all need the clowns to make us smile,
Through space and time, always another show,
Wonderin’ where I am lost without you,
3…2…1…*beep, beep, beep*
You stare into the microwave as the light goes out. Popping the door open, you grab the bottle and test the milk on your wrist. Perfect temp. You turn to go feed your three month old son and accidentally send the stack of neglected and dirty dishes crashing to the floor.
“Dammit,” you curse, setting the bottle on the counter. Kneeling down, you start to pick up the pieces of the shattered dishes and old food.
“Y/N?” Mary asks, stepping into the room. “What happened?” She comes over quickly to help. You glance up at her and shake your head before hissing in pain. You’d managed to cut your hand on a shard of glass. “Oh, Y/N.” Falling back against the counter behind you, your emotions overwhelm you.
“I can’t do this anymore, Mary,” you cry.
Dean and Sam were missing. They had taken on Lucifer once again and this time he was possessing the president. That was almost two months ago. For two months you've been struggling to take care of your newborn son on your own. Sure, you had Cas and Mary but it wasn’t the same. D.J. needed his father.
“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I…what do you need me to do?” She asks, handing you a dish towel. Wrapping it around your cut hand, you glance back up at the bottle.
“Could you feed D.J. for me? I just…I need a minute,” you tell her.
“Of course,” she says. She gives your arm a quick, reassuring squeeze before leaving you alone in the kitchen.
You lay your head back against the counter and close your eyes, allowing the tears to fall once again as you contemplate life as a single mother. You knew this life was risky, of course. You knew there was always a chance one of you wouldn’t come back from a hunt. You just didn’t expect it to be two months into actually being parents.
“Y/N? Are you alright?” Cas asks, when he sees you. You shake your head, eyes still squeezed closed as you cry.
Cas frowns as he walks over, taking in the disaster that is the kitchen. He hesitates for a moment before carefully sitting down next to you. You lay your head over on his shoulder as the sobs rake through your body. Cas shifts awkwardly and you feel his arm come around your shoulders, comfortingly. The pain alleviates in your hand and you pull it from the towel, perfectly healed.
“Thank you,” you mumble between sobs.
“I wish there was more I could do,” he says. You wipe at your cheeks and shake your head.
“Please stop blaming yourself. You followed the plan,” you tell him, laying your head back on his shoulder.
The two of you sit in silence for a while, you don’t know how long. Eventually, you sit up and find a clean part of the partially bloodied towel to wipe your face. You rise from the floor and look at the mess at your feet before taking in the rest of the kitchen. You’d really let things slide lately. You sigh and shake your head, going to get the trash can. Mary comes back into the kitchen.
“No,” she says. You stop and look at her.
“What?” You ask, confused.
“You need to go get some rest. Take a shower. Take a nap. Refresh and reset,” she tells you, taking the trash can from your hand.
“Mary, there’s too much to do,” you respond, looking around at the kitchen again. It wasn’t just the kitchen either. You knew the library, war room, and bedrooms needed your attention as well.
“Castiel and I will take care of it,” she says, sending a pointed look to the angel as he gets up from the floor. He nods, looking at you.
“Of course,” he says. Looking between the two, you realize there’s no point in arguing. You were absolutely exhausted, barely able to get any sleep the last two months. Mary smiles at you, reassuringly.
“Shower. Bed,” she tells you. You sigh and nod, reaching for the baby monitor but Mary snatches it up quickly. “I’ve got him too.”
“Okay,” you surrender, holding your hands up.
You head down the hall and steal a quick peek in at your son, sleeping soundly in his crib. Continuing down the hall, you go into yours and Dean’s bedroom, closing the door behind you. One hour-long, steaming hot shower later, you slip into one of Dean’s t-shirts then under the covers. You don’t expect sleep to overwhelm you as quickly as it does. Your last thoughts are the same as they’ve been for the last two months.
Where are you, Dean?
And being apart ain’t easy on this love affair,
Two strangers learn to fall in love again,
I get the joy of rediscovering you,
Oh, girl, you stand by me,
I’m forever yours,
Faithfully.
Dean smiles politely at the waitress, taking his order. She was clearly flirting with him even though he’d told her about you and D.J. She walks off to put his order in, dinner for him and Sam to go, and he pulls his phone out to call you. It rings three times before you pick up.
“Hey,” you say, smiling. You’re sitting in the library, having just gotten D.J. down for the night.
“I miss you,” he says with a sigh. “This waitress won’t leave me alone.”
“I’m sorry. Is Dean Winchester complaining about being hit on?” You laugh. He shakes his head as he glances around, his eyes landing on the mechanical bull.
“I told her I had someone back home and a kid. She’s still flirting,” he says, watching as someone gets thrown off. He lets out a chuckle. “I was better than that,” he mumbles.
“What?” You ask.
“There’s a…a mechanical bull,” he tells you. You throw your head back, laughing. “What’s so funny?”
“I would pay to see that,” you tease him.
“Hey. I was awesome,” he assures you.
“Man. I can’t believe I missed that,” you say, still laughing. He smiles and shakes his head before someone catches his attention.
“Babe, I gotta let you go. Think I just got a lead on our case,” he says, standing up quickly. Your smile slips slightly and you nod.
“Be careful,” you tell him before he hangs up. You sigh and lean back in the chair.
**
“Dean’s been hexed. He’s losing his memory.”
That was the call you’d received from Sam earlier in the day. He thought it might be best if you were there to help. Thankfully, Mary had been in the neighborhood so she could keep D.J. for you. You’d peeled out of the garage, tires squealing as you headed for Arkansas, a 7 and a half hour drive. You make it in six.
You whip into the parking lot of the motel Sam had given you the address to and park next to the Impala. Grabbing your bag, you make for the door of the guys’ room and knock quickly. However, it isn’t Sam or Dean who answer the door but Rowena. Your shock gives way to anger almost immediately.
“Did you do this??” You snap, stepping up to her quickly. Her eyes widen in surprise before she smiles.
“Afraid not, dear,” she says. “But I am here to help.”
“Help? Are you kidding?” You ask, looking at Sam as he steps up behind Rowena.
“I know, I know. But...I didn’t know where else to go,” he explains. You sigh and glance around, spotting Dean sitting on one of the beds. He’s laughing at whatever he’s watching on the TV. He looks over and his eyes lock with yours before he smiles widely.
“Hi,” he says, standing. He remembered you. You smile as you walk over to him.
“Hey. How are you feeling?” You ask, your hands resting on his arms. He looks down at your hands then back at you.
“Much better now that you're here,” he says, his smile turning into a smirk. “I’m, ugh…I’m…”
“Dean,” Sam says, frowning.
“Yea. I’m Dean,” he says, introducing himself. Your smile fades as you take a step back. He didn’t remember you. It was worse than you’d thought. Sam’s hand comes to rest on your shoulder and you shake your head.
“I need some air,” you say quietly before leaving the room. Dean frowns as you go and Sam sighs, ushering him to the bathroom to talk. He explains the situation to him, reminding him of everything, everyone. Dean runs a hand over his face.
“So, after everything…that’s it. This is what nails me,” he says. Sam shakes his head quickly.
“No. No, no. Dean. I-it,” he stops and takes a deep breath. “It’s not gonna happen, all right?” Dean looks at him and Sam can see the fear in his eyes.
“Well, you just told me my whole life story. And I gotta be honest, man. I…I can feel it, slipping out of my head. I mean ganking monsters is one thing. But this…” He covers his face with his hands. “I forgot Y/N and my own son.”
“We’ll figure it out. We will,” Sam assures his older brother before standing up. He leaves the bathroom and finds you outside the door.
“Can I?” You ask, pointing to it. Sam nods and steps out of the way. You push the door open slightly and peek in. Dean is standing over the sink, staring at himself in the mirror.
“Okay. My name is Dean Winchester. Sam is my brother. Ugh, Mary Winchester is my mom. Cast - Cas is my best friend. Y/N is my wi…girlfr…” He stops and you sigh before stepping into the bathroom.
“Girlfriend,” you provide. He looks over at you then down, embarrassed.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” you tell him, leaning back against the door. He walks over quickly and wraps you up in a tight hug as though clinging to your very memory for dear life.
“I don’t remember what he looks like,” he says quietly. You can hear the crack in his voice, the emotion choking him up. You’re fighting tears yourself now.
“Just like you. Your eyes and everything,” you say.
“What’s D.J. even stand for?” He asks, still clinging onto you.
“Dean Junior,” you tell him. He nods and looks down at you. “You didn’t really want to name him after you but I insisted. Cause I want him to be just like his father.” He smiles a little before leaning his forehead against yours. “We’re gonna fix you, Dean. I swear.” There’s a knock on the door and you glance back.
“Y/N, we need to go,” Sam says.
“I’m coming,” you call back to him. You look up at Dean once more and take his face in your hands. You stand up on your toes, closing the distance between the two of you, and kiss him. You had to tell yourself this wouldn’t be the last kiss the two of you would share. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” he tells you. You can’t be sure if he actually means it or if he’s saying it back to spare your feelings at this point. Did he even remember how much you two loved each other? You smile at him before leaving the bathroom and following Sam out the door. Dean rushes out behind you to the desk inside the room. Rowena watches as he jots down a quick note and sticks it in his front pocket. He glances at her and she raises an eyebrow. “Just a reminder…”
**
The three of you get back to the bunker later the next day, Dean’s memories restored. Mary meets you all in the garage, D.J. in her arms. Dean practically bursts from the car and rushes over, taking his son. Mary smiles as she hands him over.
“Glad you’re better,” she says, patting his shoulder. Dean smiles at her before kissing D.J.’s forehead.
“Can’t believe I forgot him,” he says quietly. You smile as you walk past, heading towards the bedroom to put your bags away. Dean watches you go before looking at his mother. “I need your help.” She nods.
“Of course. With what?” She asks. He pulls a piece of paper from his front pocket.
“I don’t remember writing it but…it’s my handwriting. And I mean…” He trails off as he hands the paper to her. She reads it and her eyes widen before looking back up at him.
A few minutes later, Dean comes down to the bedroom and leans against the door frame, watching you. You’re busy taking the clothes from both of your go bags and putting them into the hamper to take care of later. You glance back and smile.
“I figured you’d still be spending time with D.J.”
“Wanted to spend time with you,” he says, walking in. He closes the door before walking over and wrapping his arms around you. You smile as you slip your arms around his neck. He leans in and kisses you gently, his hands sliding over your waist slowly. He pulls away too soon and you lean in again. He laughs lightly. “Hold on.”
“I don’t really want to,” you laugh.
“I wanna give you something,” he says. You raise an eyebrow at him as he reaches into his pocket. He pulls a folded piece of paper out and holds it up between the two of you. “I wrote this at some point during the whole…hexed thing.” You take it, giving him a skeptical look. He seems nervous and you can’t figure out why. You unfold the piece of paper slowly.
Dean. If you survive this, marry Y/N.
It was scratched onto the paper quickly and sloppily but it was for sure Dean’s handwriting. You can’t help the gasp that escapes your lips as you look back up at Dean. He’s watching you, trying to read your face, as he reaches into his pocket once again. This time he produces a ring.
“Oh my god,” you whisper.
“I, ugh…I thought I was going to have to save up to buy a ring but,” he stops and shrugs. “Mom gave me hers. Didn’t even ask. Said she wanted you to have it.”
“Oh my god,” you say again, swallowing thickly.
“Marry me, Y/N?” He asks. You take a shaky breath as the tears finally start to fall.
“Yes,” you tell him. He smiles widely and pulls you in for another kiss. This time you pull away too soon, holding your left hand up. “I want my ring.” He laughs lightly as he looks at it.
“Dad had it inscribed. I didn’t know that. Mom just showed it to me,” he says. You take it and hold it up, trying to read the inside. You smile widely as you make out the two words. They couldn’t have been more true for the two for you. He takes the ring back and slides it onto your left hand before lifting you and tossing you onto the bed.
Forever yours.
****
Forever Tags: @roseblue373
#fanfic#fanfiction#supernatural#spn#reader insert#dean winchester#dean x y/n#dean x you#dean x reader#request#supernatural fanfic#supernatural fanfiction#faithfully#journey
278 notes
·
View notes
Text
after hours
after hours : a live action buggy x fem!reader fanfiction
for some odd reason, you have no idea who he is. and he fucking loved that.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three | waves. wanted. wasted.
his pov;
A few weeks passed by and I had not heard from or seen Y/N. It worried me but due to her emotional episode the last time we spoke, I decided to allow her a bit of space without me breathing down her shoulder. It was difficult, but I sufficed. It was odd enough that I had a slight obsession with the poor girl, why must I infest her life as well?
Part of me believed she needed me. Like at any moment, I could sweep in and save her from whatever danger or predicament she was in. I wanted to be there for her. But it deemed up to her whether that could happen or not.
And due to her absence, I took up drinking again.
Stupid, I know.
But I was alone with my thoughts. I wanted to at least drown them out. So I sat by myself night after night, sitting on someone's old fishing boat, a warm bottle of beer in my hand. After the third bottle, which was tossed on the deck, I laid back, arms folding behind my head as I attempted to count each star in the sky without thinking of her. But the farthest I could ever go was seven. After seven, Y/N's sweet, precious smile wafted through my mind like smell of her decadent perfume. Vanilla and coconut. God, I missed it.
I repeated this each night. And tonight, I kept up with the schedule. But I only counted to six before her laughter soothed my aching heart. I smiled to myself, my eyes closing as I thought of her- thought of us. I imagined how pleasant it would be to wake up next to her. To see her sleeping stature as she buried her face into one of the pillows, surrounded by both my arms and blankets would be such a heavenly slight.
The alcohol did nothing to me.
I was still sober no matter how much I drank.
But I was drunk on her.
I shook my head and sat up, taking one last swig of beer before standing up. I gripped the neck of the bottle tightly then tossed it into the calm sea, watching it dip below the surface before it bobbed back to the top. I observed as the tides crashed, causing the boat to glide along the waves. It was a simple sight, but I wanted more. I wanted to be entertained. I didn't want to be alone.
Ever since- no, no, no. I'm not going to think about that.
I left the trash of empty beer bottles and crawled off of the ship, making my way back to the rocky dock. I made my way down the street, not spotting a single soul. It was rather unusual due to the swarms of pirates this small town received. But it was quiet. And I liked it. The sounds of the black shoes echoed as I stepped forward then walked down a small stairway, heading down to the place I liked to call home. It wasn't anything too special, but it was mine. It was somewhere I could be completely alone and relax.
I nudged the stone door open then shut it behind me, the sound of it slamming a little too loud for my liking. I squinted and fumbled around for the lantern that lit up the small abode. I used the dim moonlight to spot the box of matches and I used one to lit the lantern.
I stumbled to my bed, pressing my left foot against my right calf to discard of my shoe, then I repeated it with the other foot. I unbuttoned the striped vest I wore and let it slide down onto the floor. I pulled off the bandana around my neck, dropping it. A puddle of clothing sat by my bedside. Once I was finished, I laid down on the left side of the bed, my arm slung over my forehead.
But a rapid banging noise erupted, causing my body to jump up. It almost felt like I was falling.
Rubbing my eyes, I looked at the door and groaned.
What drunken idiot decided to disturb me tonight?
I slapped my hands over my ears and closed my eyes but the knocking continued, only growing more frequent and forceful. I couldn't take the loud banging anymore and I pushed myself up from the bed, starting to the door. I grabbed the rusted doorknob and yanked it open. I was seething at this point. Who, in their right mind, would disrupt someone's sleep at this hour?
The door opened quickly and I buried my face in my hand, growling. "What the fuck do you want?"
"Oh, I- I'm sorry."
What?
I dropped my hands and my eyes widened upon the sight of Y/N standing in front of me, her hands buried into the pockets of the coat she wore. My coat. "Oh, fuck," I muttered. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know it was you. Y/N, I didn't mean it."
She waved her hands and smiled. "Don't worry about it, it's okay," She said and her eyes trailed down to look at my body. "Uhm, did I come at a bad time?" She pointed at my shirtless figure.
I cocked an eyebrow then met where her eyes were looking and I gasped, stepping back. For the first time, most likely ever, I felt embarrassed. "No, no, I was just heading to bed," I said with a yawn. I stood back, pulling the door open. "Want to come in?"
"Yeah, thank you."
Y/N took a step inside and I closed the door behind her. I watched her closely as she walked toward my bed then took a seat on it, her hands folding in her lap. Apart from the jacket, she was only wearing a black shirt with baby blue shorts. Her eyes dropped to stare at my discarded clothing which I quickly kicked to the corner of the room. She laughed at this then her hands slapped together. An uncomfortable silence fell upon us, the only noise heard being the crackling of the flame inside the lantern. Hesitating, I started toward the bed then took a seat beside her, maintaining a distance between us. Her head dropped to look at her hands. "So," She began, fiddling with her fingers. "I'm sorry to intrude like this, I just-"
"How did you know where I lived?" I asked, raising an eyebrow as I turned my head to look at her.
"Oh, well, uh-" She scratched the back of her neck and clenched her jaw. "It sounds really weird so please don't call me creepy but I saw you a week or so ago. You were sitting on a boat. I followed you back to your home but before I could talk to you, you headed inside. I know it sounds so weird and I promise I wasn't stalking you! I was just too nervous to talk to you," She admitted, her head dropping into her hands.
So, I wasn't the only one. I smirked to myself and I watched her, admiring how nervous and timid she was. I tilted my head. "Don't worry, it's okay. Don't be scared to talk to me, though. I don't bite."
The girl chuckled, nodding her head. "I wanted to give you your coat back. I really appreciated the gesture but I don't want to take anymore from you than I already have," She mumbled as she let the sleeves fall from her shoulders. She folded the clothing and sit it on my lap. "And I don't have your money yet, I'm sorry."
"Y/N, don't apologize. I told you you didn't need to pay me back."
"But I can't accept it without paying you back. You've already done so much for me. You lent me your jacket, paid for my meal, listened to my woes, and gave me forty-three hundred berries. You're doing too much for me. I don't deserve it."
"You do deserve it. What makes you think you don't?"
"I don't know. It's stupid."
"Y/N, come on, tell me," I begged, reaching to put my hand on her shoulder. I was still wondering why she was here. Well, I understood, but why so late? It was well past midnight. Did she realize how dangerous it was to walk alone at this god forsaken hour?
"If I tell you, you need to tell me your problems, okay?" She said with a stern tone that I've never heard before. It was hot.
I held my hands up, nodding my head. "Yes, alright." I scooted back, letting myself rest against the pillows. I folded my arms over my chest, still feeling slightly exposed. “Oh, uh, do you want something to drink?”
“Do you have anything other than beer?”
“Not really, no,” I admitted with a sheepish grin.
“Then I’m okay.”
I bobbed my head then proceeded to remain quiet.
“I just- I’m just me, ya know? I’m not anyone special. Yeah, I have a sad life because my dad left and I have not a single berry to my name, but other than that, I’m like everyone else. I don’t like pirates, I hate alcohol, and I eat dessert before the main course. How am I so different?” She threw her hands up to exaggerate her point. “Why are you doing all this for me? I don’t get it.”
“I see myself in you, or something. I don’t know.” I didn’t want to tell her how infatuated I was with her. Well, I wanted to, but how could I? She’d either run back home or tell me she wasn’t interested. Who would be interested with a nose like mine?
I grimaced to myself. “You’re a nice girl. And you seem sad all the time. I never see you smile. I’m always smiling.”
“That’s because it’s painted on your face.”
I clenched my jaw. “Good point. But you know what I mean. There’s a lot more to life than sadness. I get it, it’s hard. Life fucking sucks sometimes. Before I met you, I was, uhm, I wasn’t that great of a person. I was mean, conniving, evil, some would say. I was an asshole. I was selfish. But I decided to give that all up and move on, start a new life. Being sad and depressive all of the time just causes you to miss our on the good things. I get to see the sun shining each morning. I get to share a meal with a friend like you. Hell, I am fortunate enough to know someone like you. I want to help you. I was in your boat. And now I wanna help you back to shore,” I said as I reached out and let my hand rest on her thigh. Not in a perverted way, no, but as a way of expressing my deepest condolences for her.
Y/N frowned and let her hand rest on my own. “I don’t feel like I deserve it. I don’t give you anything in return.”
“You give me your friendship, your presence. I’m lucky to be friends with someone like you.”
“You consider us friends?”
“Well,” I gulped. “If that’s alright.”
“No, it is. I think we’re friends. too.”
I smiled at that. “Good.”
“Buggy,” The girl started, removing her hand from mine. “This is a big question and you already do so much for me. I’d hate to ask any more from you.”
“Go on.”
“Can I stay here? Just for tonight?”
“What? Of course you can. My home is your home.”
“My mom and I had a little fight earlier and I got kicked out for the night. I told her how I felt about my father and she told me she held no grudge toward him. That I was disrespecting him by saying I hated him for what he did,” She frowned and dropped her head. “Is that so wrong of me?”
“Of course not. You’re entitled to your own feelings.”
“Thank you, Buggy.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Y/N nodded her head, sending a warm smile my way. It was such a heavenly sight. So beautiful, so sacred. To see someone as precious as her so sad made my heart ache. I could physically feel it. But I was determined to make her feel better. I wanted to show her that laughter truly is the best medicine.
I watched her closely, admiring the soft features on her face. She was perfect- beyond perfect, even. She was a goddess. And I’d worship the ground beneath her feet if I could.
“What time is it?” She asked.
“I think around two in the morning. It’s very late. Are you tired?”
“A little, yeah. I just had a long day.”
“Go to sleep then, come on.” I pushed myself up and off of the bed, landing on my bare feet. I pulled the sheets down and allowed for Y/N to crawl underneath them. She was shivering. “Do you want to wear the coat?”
“If it’s okay, please.”
I smirked. “Of course it is.”
The girl slipped her arms through and wrapped the lapels around herself before tucking the sheets around her body. Her head rested on the pillows and she hummed, a small smile settling on her face. “So cozy.”
“I know. It’s perfect for when I need my beauty sleep.”
“Oh, come on, you don’t need beauty sleep,” She mumbled, turning to let her cheek rest atop the pillow. Her eyes closed, her long eyelashes casting a dim shadow along her cheeks.
What did that mean?
I peeked an eyebrow up as I stared down upon the restful angel, watching as she made herself comfortable.
“Have a nice sleep, Y/N.”
“Where are you sleeping,” She asked, her eyes closed.
“Don’t worry about me. Just get some shut eye.”
“I’m sorry for stealing your bed.”
“I’d lend you the very clothes off my back if it were to help you.” I patted the bed. “Now, come on, get some sleep.”
The girl nodded her head and remained silent now. Her lips parted as she breathed softly through them. How is it she looked even more angelic when she was sleeping?
I decided to follow my own advice and attempt to get some sleep. While not comfortable, I didn’t care. I say against the bed, resting my head back against the soft mattress, my eyes closing, and my arms folded across my chest.
It took a while but I fell asleep before I knew it.
-=-
her pov;
I woke up with a sudden jerk, my body tensing as I sat up. A soft groan left my lips and I bawled up my hands to rub at my tired eyes. It was still completely dark out. The small window allowed little-to-no light inside which was nice if I was able to fall back asleep again. But a cold sweat broke over my body and I pulled the sheets off of me. The thick, suede coat I wore slipped from my shoulders and I let it pool around me. My arms wrapped around myself and I leaned back, closing my eyes.
No nightmare or bad dream clouded my sleep so I was unsure of why I was awake. What time was it even? From what I could see, the sun was invisible and the moon shined dimly in the starry, yet cloudy sky. I pursed my lips and continued to rub at my eyes before letting my vision trail down to the sleeping man beside the bed. Buggy, for whatever reason, was fast asleep while sitting upwards, his arms tucked around his chest. He was snoring. Maybe that's why I woke up.
Clenching my jaw, I turned over to face the wall, allowing my eyes to drift to a close as I tucked my hands underneath my cheek. I wanted to fall back asleep because it seemed to be either late at night or early in the morning. I couldn't tell. But when a loud crack of thunder sounded almost directly outside, I realized why I was awake. The echoes of pouring rain followed almost immediately after, the pellets of water drumming upon the tin roof. Normally, the sound would serenade me to sleep but I was wide awake. For hours, at least, I remained awake, staring at the wall in front of me. I tossed and turned, attempting to remain comfortable but the only way I could rest was with a pillow between me legs, and the ex-pirate's coat tucked underneath my head. I sighed and closed my eyes. The rain continued and soon, there was a shuffling heard from behind me. A groan left Buggy's lips as he seemed to be stirring from his sleep. Light finally shined in through the window, the shadow of the man behind me rising from his comfortable spot on the floor. I turned over, my eyes closed to show that I was still asleep, or pretending to me. I squinted my eyes to watch the man as he pushed himself up, groaning while stretching his arms. He cracked his neck and rubbed at his eyes, only continuing to smear the face makeup he wore proudly. His red nose was definitely different but I didn't understand why he needed to follow along with the stereotype and paint his face to match. He wasn't a clown.
"Are you awake, Y/N?" His raspy voice asked which resulted in my eyes gluing shut. The feeling of the sheets lifting off my body appeared before the blankets settled underneath my chin.
"I'm gonna go out for a bit, just to get stuff to eat and drink. I won't be long," He whispered. I peeked my right eye open, watching as he fumbled to put his clothing back on. He buttoned his vest, attached his belt, tied his bandana back around his neck, then pulled the red-and-white striped wrap from his blue hair, a sudden wave of thick, blue hair running down his back. My eyes widened at the sight. He had long hair? Since when?
Buggy swooped his hair back into a ponytail, twisting it in a loop, then tucked it back underneath his bandanna. I closed my eyes again, still completely flabbergasted. I never would've guessed he had long air. That's so shocking.
I only realized that he left when the stone door slammed slut.
I sat up and rubbed my eyes then crawled out of the bed, moving to stand on my feet. Since I was his guest, I decided to tidy up while he was out. I started by making the bed, tucking the sheets and fluffing the pillows to make the bed look comfortable and well-made. Then I moved on to wiping down the nightstand. It was dusty and rather dirty but I wasn't one to judge. I moved on to cleaning the lantern before opening the drawer below. Inside were a few pairs of jewelry and a stack of books. I smirked. Buggy reads?
I sat down and pulled the novels out. I sorted through them, finding nothing to be eye-catching- just boring books about boring subjects. I pushed myself onto my knees and went to tuck the books back into the drawer but something caught my eye. I raised an eyebrow and pulled out a folded piece of crumpled paper. The edges were slightly burnt and torn. I pulled it apart and flattened it before turning it around.
My eyes widened.
Before I could properly react, the door pushed into the hinges, creating a loud noise like metal scraping against metal. I scrambled to hide the paper back underneath the books and I closed the drawer. Just as I stood up, the door slammed open and there Buggy stood with a parcel of fruits and two jugs of orange juice. "Oh, look who's awake," He said with a small smile as he kicked the door closed behind him.
I gulped hard and sat down on the bed.
"Did you sleep okay?"
"Y-Yeah, I did," I whispered in reply.
He cocked an eyebrow up, looking to be puzzled by my sudden disturbed exterior. Dropping the items down on the countertop, he started to tear into the bags. "I figured you'd be hungry so I got you some stuff to munch on for breakfast. I got apples, too. Don't worry, they're not rotten." He chuckled.
"Thanks."
"What do you want? I can make you a plate." He looked at me as he started to cut into one of the fruits.
"I'm not hungry."
"What? You don't want anything to eat? Not even some orange juice?"
"No, I'm fine."
Buggy opened his mouth, his eyebrows scrunching together as he approached me. He squatted down and grabbed my arms, almost to hold himself up and to show me how serious he was. "What's wrong?"
Shaking my head, I declined whatever he meant. "Nothing, I'm fine."
"No, something is wrong. Tell me," He instructed, his face remaining cold and serious, as if he were trying to interrogate me- like I committed some horrendous crime and he wanted me to come clean. I continued to reassure him, lying to him but for whatever reason, he saw right through my guise and gripped my arms. "Y/N, please tell me. Why do you seem so scared?" He frowned then his eyes grew wide. He dropped his hands. "Did I do something?"
I remained quiet, a frown stuck to my lips.
"Please just tell me."
I opened my mouth but nothing came out. The blue-haired man frowned and stood up, letting go of me. "Fine, don't tell me then." His eyes rolled and he approached the counter again, continuing to slice into the fruits. He seemed angry- very angry. The knife was practically slamming into the apple. "See if I care." He continued to talk. "My fault for trying to help you. Last time I'll do that."
A sullen look crossed my face and I looked down at my lap then back toward the bedside table. I reached for the handle. Buggy watched me and he scowled. "What are you doing?"
I jerked my hand back and frowned. "I promise I wasn't snooping."
"What do you mean?" He tossed a slice of apple into his mouth.
"I was cleaning up a bit. I made the bed and I dusted your nightstand."
"Okay?" He raised an eyebrow, now slowly chewing. "Thank you?"
"And- And I was looking in the drawer and I found-"
"What did you find?" He looked skeptical and he dropped the knife.
"Your wanted poster."
#captain buggy#x reader#buggy#opla fanart#buggy the genius jester#buggy one piece#buggy the clown#buggy x reader#buggy smut#op buggy#one piece buggy#one piece live action#live action buggy the clown#buggy the flashy fool#opla buggy#buggy x you#buggy x y/n
521 notes
·
View notes
Note
haunted w conrad GO
okay so you’re trying to fucking kill me. i’m convinced.
warnings: language, mentions of drinking, a little bit of fluff, angst and just pure heartbreak idk.
inbox 💌 | listen
if there was one thing you knew about conrad fisher, it was that he was unpredictable.
you had always been friends with the fisher and conklin siblings, living next door to them every summer for as long as you could remember. it wasn't a secret that you and conrad were the closest out of the group. but, as the two of you got older, you had realized that it was because you had fallen for the brunette boy with floppy hair that always seems to end up in his eyes no matter how short he cuts it.
you thought back to the moment on the dock, the two of you laughing as you sat with your feet in his lap. he was looking down at his phone, trying to figure out which song to play next on the speaker. belly, jere, and steven were all back by the pool, laughing loudly and carrying on.
you looked over at him as you caught his glance, you smiled, "what?"
she shook his head, "nothing,"
you raised an eyebrow, "sure it's not just nothing, con?" you could tell when he was trying his best to keep a secret, but it never worked. not around you, anyway.
"i just... you have a crush on me?" he asked, his lips turned up in a smile. your eyes widened as you sat up.
"uhm," you trailed off, looking at his expression. he didn't seem grossed out and if anything, he looked relieved? "uhm, yeah. how do you know?"
he smiled, "belly."
you rolled your eyes, "that girl is going to be the death of me."
he laughed, "it's okay. i mean, i guess i kind of have a thing for you, too."
you looked over at him, "you have a crush... on me?"
he smiled, nodding as he moved closer to you. you smiled as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "i do,"
your heart pounded against your ribs as you smiled, "cool."
"cool." he echoed back.
you made the mistake of looking down at his lips. he smiled softly, doing the same. you had always wanted this exact moment to happen, every wish on a candle, every penny in a fountain, you had wished for him. for this moment.
and now it was finally happening.
"can i kiss you?" he asked. you nodded your head.
"please."
he smiled before connecting your lips with his. every thing about the kiss was all you'd been waiting for. it was finally happening.
and the two of you had been together ever since. even during the spring, fall and winter, he was yours during every season.
now it was the next summer, and everything had changed from when you'd last seen him. he was quieter, kept to himself more. spending his days daydrinking, and smoking more. something was off, and it was like he was forcing himself to act happy around you.
you had tried asking him about it, but he always just shut you out, insisting he was fine when he really wasn't.
you sat in your bed, putting down your book as your phone buzzed on the mattress next to you.
connie
can we talk?
your heart dropped, things like this never ended well.
y/n
beach in 5?
connie
sounds good
you tugged on a hoodie and slipped on your flip flops before making your way out the back door. you walked onto the beach, spotting conrad sitting down in the sand.
"you wanted to talk?" you asked, hugging your knees to your chest. he looked down at the sand by his feet, not making eye contact with you.
red flag number one.
"i uhm," he started, brining a hand up to run through his hair, "i think that we should put us on pause, for a minute.."
his voice trailed off as looked over at him, "are you serious?"
he finally decided to look over at you, his eyes red. had he been crying?
"yeah," he said, "i just... i don't think we should do this, not right now, anyway."
he knew that look on your face, you weren't listening to what he was saying, instead your eyes studied his facial features, "what's wrong, conrad? what aren't you telling me?"
he groaned, "for fucks sake, are you even listening?"
you repeated your question, "are you listening to me? i'm trying to help you!"
"i don't need your fucking help, y/n!" he was yelling now, standing up as he rubbed his face with his hands, "jesus."
you looked at him, standing up to face him again, "why're you pushing me out? what's going on, just talk to me. please."
the please came out quieter than you had meant for it to, and he knew it was because you were on the brink of tears. he looked over at you, "this was a mistake."
you looked at him confused, "what was?"
"us," he didn't mean it, he just was doing what he knew how to do best, push people out and hurt the ones you love the most.
you scoffed, looking away from him and looking out towards the ocean. the moon was hitting the water at just the right angle for it to reflect onto the waves. it would've been a pretty sight, a nice moment if he hadn't ruined it.
ruined you. with that one word. mistake.
you thought you had conrad all figured out up until now. up until this summer, he was different.
"don't leave it like this," you whispered, looking back at him with tears in your eyes. he desperately wanted to reach out to you, tell you he didn't mean any of it. tell you the truth about his mom's cancer, and his dad's affair.
but he couldn't. he didn't know how to.
"please, don't," you whispered, "i love you."
he let a tear fall from his eyes as he shook his head, turning to walk away, "i'm sorry."
he ignored you calling back for him as you stood on the beach. you were frozen in the sand, watching the love of your life walk away from you. he let the tears roll off his cheeks and disintegrate into the sand as he walked away from the one form of true love he had ever felt.
you.
#conrad fisher x reader#conrad fisher#conrad fisher x fem!reader#conrad fisher fluff#conrad fisher blurb#conrad fisher angst#the summer i turned pretty#tsitp imagine#conrad fisher fanfic#conrad fisher oneshot#blurb#kate the great#mail time
674 notes
·
View notes
Text
Do Not Disturb! Shanks (OPLA)
After a night of drinking, Shanks is annoyed and you are sent in to see what's wrong. You put your foot in your mouth and Shanks lets out his frustrations. Shanks x Reader (female) SMUT
Y/N
It was a hot day, and there was one benefit of being a female pirate, you could swap your trousers for a skirt. Your skirts were practical, resting just below your knees with a small slit on the side making movement easier in a fight. You put on your normal white blouse and a brown skirt to match your new brown boots. Living on a ship full of guys you didn't wear makeup, so you simply brushed your hair and put it up in. a ponytail so in the heat it didn't stick to your neck.
This was your second day docked on an island you couldn't remember the name of, your first day and night was a blur due to partying and drinking. Maybe today you could explore and do some shopping.
You walk onto the deck and shield your eyes from the sun. Most of the crew had already left but Benn was standing looking over some documents while smoking.
He looks over at you and smirks, 'looking pretty little lady. You heading off as well?'
Benn was a charmer and your smoking buddy, 'I'm going to grab some water first. Can you get me some smokes and I'll pay you later? You always get the good ones.'
Benn winks at you and goes to head off the ship, 'I'll always get you the good stuff, nothing is too good for my little lady.'
You go to head to the kitchen when you hear Benn call out, 'Can you check on the captain, his conquest left earlier and he's been silent.'
You roll your eyes at the request. Why did it always fall on you to check on Shanks? You were convinced before you joined the crew that most of the guys had seen each other naked so it shouldn't be a shock to them. A few times they sent you in when the hookup hadn't left yet because Shanks couldn't get mad at you. The girl who'd been all over him last night was a prostitute and not a high-class one at that from the way they dressed, but pirates weren't fussy. Before you turned in for the night you checked on Shanks who had called you jealous because he wasn't paying attention to you.
It was common knowledge amongst the crew that from time to time you and Shanks slept together, they even sent you in to calm him down. You might have also given Benn a blow job when drunk and you were out of cigarettes, but other than that you took care of your own needs and hooked up whenever you docked somewhere. There was no real title for you and Shanks, but you weren't jealous because you weren't together.
You knock on Shank's door and get no reply so put your hand on the handle, 'I'm coming in Shanks,' you call out.
The room was dark, the curtains still drawn only letting in a crack of light to illuminate the space. The bed was a mess and your eyes focus on Shanks who was butt naked leaning over his desk with his back to you, giving you a nice view of his ass.
'Captain, Benn wanted me to see if you were okay. You're alive so I'll go,' you say calmly, before turning to leave.
Shanks growls stopping you in your tracks, 'THAT BITCH STOLE FROM ME!'
You can't help but throw your head back and laugh, 'and you called me jealous. You need to get yourself better standards, wait until the guys hear about this, the great Shanks robbed by a cheap whore.'
Shanks's head snaps towards you and immediately you stop laughing and back up, but bump into the small sofa he had. Shanks stalks towards you, something dark behind his eyes, you were his prey.
'Then what does that make you?' he chuckles darkly.
Next thing you know he's spinning you around and pushing you over the arm of the sofa, your face hitting the worn leather leaving you back exposed. His hand pushes up your skirt and you squirm feeling the cold air on your backside.
'Oh shit!' you gasp, Shanks grabbing your ponytail and pulling your head up.
'I asked you a question, answer me,' he states, voice deep from sleep and alcohol.
You gulp, 'Err a girl in the wrong place at the wrong time captain.'
He grunts and releases your ponytail before his hand comes down swiftly on your cheeks making you scream because you weren't expecting this.
'You're funny,' one more smack, 'you're not a cheap whore, you're simply a whore,' another smack, 'at least a cheap whore gets paid,' a fourth smack, 'you're a whore for you captain.'
With each smack, you thrust against the sofa biting your lip. Shanks wasn't lying, his words didn't hurt you, they turned you on.
'then fuck away your problem captain, that's what I'm here for,' you say shakily, your breath catching a little.
Shanks pulls down your underwear and you shift to shed them completely, your clit pressed against the cold leather, 'Beautiful,' he whispers.
You moan loudly as he aligns himself, feeling his tip rubbing against your opening, 'fuck me, captain,' you beg, no shame in your voice.
There weren't many attractive guys on this island so you had to get your release somehow.
Without warning Shanks thrusts, and you take all of him inside you, walls clenching as your hips buck. Shanks grabs your ponytail again as he slams into you more forcefully than the last.
'The ships empty, I want to hear you, we both know you're quite vocal,' Shanks mocks.
'YES...OH FUCK...' you moan loudly, 'FILL ME UP CAPTAIN!'
Shanks continues to fuck you, his grunts mixing with your moans as the only other sound in the room was skin-on-skin contact. You'd hooked up enough times to know when both of you were close.
'CUM FOR ME!' Shanks commands.
You come undone around him, your eyes rolling back as you try to catch your breath. His thrusts become sloppier until he unloads inside you. He keeps his dick inside as you both come down together, if the heat outside didn't make you a sweaty mess, you were a sweaty mess now.
'Good girl,' Shanks coos as he pulls out.
You get back to your feet and pull your skirt back down which was now crumpled, when Benn saw you he'd know what happened. Shanks leans down and kisses your forehead, all the anger from earlier gone.
'Feeling better?' you ask, fixing your ponytail.
Shanks smirks, 'I am now. God, you're too good to me y/n, I guess I can't mope forever.'
TIMESKIP
SHANKS
It was evening when I saw y/n again, their skirt still wrinkled from our morning activity. They said they wanted to explore the town. Benn who was sat next to me on the deck bends down and picks something up before throwing it at them which they catch with ease.
'Thank you, Benn, how much do I owe?' y/n asks, eyeing the box of cigarettes in their hands.
Benn waves them off, 'This one is on me y/n.'
y/n blows him a kiss, before walking past me, they pause, 'I got something for you captain, I'll leave it in your quarters,' they whisper.
I enter my quarters later on and see two things on my desk. One of them was my stolen compass, and the other was a bag of money. I can't help but laugh at the fact that y/n also got me my money back. I didn't want to know what they did to get this back to me, but it was better to have them on your side.
#anime fanfiction#anime imagines#opla#one piece fanfiction#one piece imagines#one piece live action#one piece#one piece live action imagines#one piece live action fanfiction#anime blog#opla shanks#opla shanks imgaines#opla shanks fanfiction#shanks x reader#shanks smut#one piece shanks#one piece shanks fanfiction#one piece shanks imagines#shanks x reader smut#anime smut#one piece smut#opla smut#red haired pirates#red haired shanks#akagami no shanks#shanks one piece#shanks opla
374 notes
·
View notes
Text
summary: fali gets to meet the sully family, and he has never been more terrified.
a/n: now how can i possibly start this? thank you so much. seriously. this is actually insane !! the support received on the last [y/n] sully x fali fic has provided me with enough motivation to pull this little thing together in two days ( i also decided, if you haven't seen my last post, that the general public would prefer small short imagines rather than a story-like series !! ) it’s much shorter than the last one (1.5k), but it’s very sweet. i hope you all enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it. NOTE: to those who have sent requests in, thank you so much !! i am working through them slowly but surely, and i’ve already planned out the majority of them. thank you all again, hope you enjoy !! feedback, reblogs, and reqs are always appreciated !!
tags: @pinkhotdogsfr @eywas-heir @historygeekqueen @325575 @inutheangel @bonnibuckets @silkenthusiasts @inarihl @marvelwweprinxessesworld @perseny @wxnderingthoughts @mashiromochi ( quick note: a majority of these are based on comments from part one, but if you have interest in being added to the official taglist, please check out and comment on my tag guide !! )
warnings: none except for major fluff, maybe some happy lil tears, the cutest little relationship ever, jake and neytiri being scary, relationship goals ( could possibly make you feel extremely lonely—that is how i am currently feeling !! )
part i
meet the family
fali liked to consider himself to be brave. he was born as the only child to his parents, vi’ieo and fpai, two extremely well respected warriors of the metkayina. thanks to his mother’s childhood connection with ronal, he was raised alongside tsireya and ao’nung, almost like he was their older brother.
to say that he’d encountered a scary parent before would be an understatement. not only did he have fpai and vi’ieo’s wrath underneath his belt, but he also had experienced that of ronal and tonowari.
so, why was fali so freaked out when he saw jake sully stomping towards him, lo’ak and neteyam trailing right behind him. a few steps later walked [y/n], her arms crossed in front of her chest and shoulders hunched sheepishly.
before he could even see [y/n]’s face, he knew exactly what was happening, flashbacks to the day before coming to mind. he should’ve known that their facade would be up as soon as tuk walked in on the two of them, immediately questioning “what the heck they were doing.” the two, desperate and dumb, answered by claiming they were playing shark. that’s why fali was biting her neck!
fali froze as he saw the sully males walk closer and closer, nearly letting the net full of fish that he’d grabbed from the reef trap slip out of his grip. he was lucky that his reflexes were more than equipped, immediately adjusting his grip so he could continue pulling the net onto the dock.
as he heaved the net upwards, flipping it over his shoulder to land on the wooden boards beside his feet, jake sully and his sons took their first steps onto the dock, tracking bits of sand off of the shore into the cracks and crannies of the worn down grain.
fali swallowed, stepping overtop the net so it didn’t awkwardly sit between him and the sully boys, inhaling sharply as he could finally read the expression of [y/n].
“lo’ak, neteyam,” he greeted with a smile, not letting his nerves get to the surface. he then nodded at jake, “sir.” fali brought his hand up, gesturing oel ngati kameie to the omaticayans.
“fali,” jake sully returned, his expression flat and grim. the man sure knows how to intimidate, fali thought, swallowing a nervous wad of spit.
“how can i help you?” fali asked, smile bright and voice kind.
jake chuckled at that, although he didn’t seem all that amused. “skip the formalities, fali,” he commanded, leading fali to nod immediately. at that, jake hid an impressed expression. he’s clearly grown up alongside warrior parents.
“so,” jake continued slowly, allowing [y/n] to finally catch up, stopping next to the youngest brother. the father’s eyes drifted from his daughter back to fali. “you’re the one she chose?”
“i suppose if that’s how you want to put it,” fali chuckled nervously, his hands growing clammy as he clenched and unclenched his fists.
jake nodded slowly at that. fali cursed himself. “how would you put it?”
“dad!” [y/n] hissed, but her words went ignored.
“uh,” he trailed, head ducking as he scratched the back of his neck, not missing the amused expressions that rested on both neteyam and lo’ak’s faces.
“look,” jake saved him from answering, knowing that fali was far too clueless. “all that we’re here to say is the simple rundown.”
fali felt himself straightening his shoulders, forcing himself to hold eye contact. he did not need his girlfriend’s father disliking him.
“in the most basic form, if you hurt her,” jake trailed, his eyes flickering to his oldest who held her head in her hands, indigo washing out her face due to the embarrassment. “we—” his hand raised, gesturing to the three males—”hurt you.”
“dad!” [y/n] scolded again, voice much louder as she clasped a hand overtop her mouth, jaw dropped in the slightest bit.
fali swallowed, the two younger boys stifling laughs from behind their father.
“understood?”
immediately, the metkayina boy nodded. “yes, sir.”
and then, it was almost as if the tension from seconds earlier dissipated. “good,” jake affirmed, a smile gracing his lips. he offered his forearm to the boy. “it is good to finally meet you.”
fali returned his grin, grasping jake’s arm. “and me, you.”
fali thought that he was safe. he finally got the talk done with his girlfriend’s ( extremely scary ) father! what else was there to worry about?
well, fali was in for a pleasant surprise!
later that afternoon, after debriefing with [y/n]—a conversation that’d been full of laughter, mainly because [y/n] was poking fun at him—the pair decided that, since the word was out and had spread very quickly ( news didn’t take long in the metkayina villages ), they would spend the day together.
at one point, after they managed to finish all of their duties for the day, they seemed to wander back to the sully’s marui.
“you should meet my mother,” [y/n] begged, her eyes bright.
he laughed at her desperation. “i have already met your mother through ronal.”
“officially meet her. and you know what i mean!”
fali hummed, using to hand that he wasn’t using to hold [y/n]’s to tap against his chin, miming a deep state of thinking. “well, i suppose.”
and that’s how the two found themselves bounding across the sand, [y/n]’s face bright with joy as she held his hand. the exuberant girl practically dragged him, willing him to walk faster.
it was so weird to [y/n]. having something—someone—of her own. someone that she could bring home to show off to her family, someone that she could finally claim as someone that she loved. she’d never been able to do that before.
fali couldn’t help but feel immense joy every time he looked at her. every time she wore that brilliant smile, that gorgeous way that the skin around her eyes wrinkled. fali’d experienced… a lot. he was an impressive and very attractive warrior, after all, but despite whatever experimenting had been done all those years ago, nothing compared to this.
as the two finally found themselves in a close proximity to the sully’s marui, it was as if fali finally remembered that, while jake was scary, neytiri was terrifying.
once they entered, they immediately saw neytiri who sat behind tuk. the mother was busy threading beads into the youngest child’s hair, a desire that the baby of the family had been requesting for months.
at the sight, [y/n] laughed, causing neytiri to look up with her eyebrow muscles raised. “you finally did it?” she questioned, quickly leaping over top the junk that was scattered in the entrance and crossing her legs besides her baby sister.
“yes!” tuk cried triumphantly. “i even got to pick the beads.”
“this one’s pretty,” [y/n] mused, analyzing a clay bead that’d been stained a deep blue color.
neytiri cleared her throat before she shoved the bowl of beads into her eldest’s hands. “take these,” she demanded, pushing herself onto her feet.
at the action, fali swallowed. the sully family sure was protective.
he fixed his posture as the mother walked over, carefully avoiding the messy obstacles thanks to her childrens’ inability to clean up after themselves. she stopped directly in front of the boy.
“ma’am,” he greeted, gesturing for the second time that day.
“fali.” neytiri’s smile was warm, comforting. and yet, he still felt a bit nervous. with neytiri, she did not vocalize her threats or warnings, but they didn’t need to be vocalized. oh no, with neytiri, you just knew.
“i’m sorry that we could not have a formal introduction to you and my daughter’s relationship,” neytiri offered, her eyes staring straight into his soul.
at that, fali chuckled. “me too, but i’m afraid the only people at fault for how it played out was, well, us.” he caught the gaze of [y/n], her stare soft and smile gentle.
neytiri’s amused grin only grew at those words. “next time you decide to do that, i suggest making sure you’re not in the same proximity as my youngest child.”
fali blushed at that, a deep indigo spreading throughout his entire face. “whoops.” he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.
luckily for him, the small voice of tuk had both him an neytiri looking back at the sully girls. “fali!” she cried. “come help! it is taking too long.”
at that, [y/n] gasped in mock offense. “i’m trying, tuk.”
“try harder.”
fali laughed, and once he got a soft nod from the mother, he made his way over to the pair of siblings sitting on the floor. “i’m not sure i’ll be of much use. i’ve never done this before!”
“come here.” [y/n] patted the ground beside her. “i will teach you.”
“please do not ruin my hair, fali. if you make me look ugly, you aren’t allowed to date my big sister.”
“noted,” fali trailed, sitting down behind the baby sully. his eyes tracked over to [y/n]’s hands, watching how her fingers moved in order to get the beads on successfully.
“like this—do you see?”
“mhm…”
“and then you take this.”
“yes i see that.”
“no, dumbie, like this.”
“oh!”
from the entrance of the marui, two pairs of eyes watched the young couple, their gazes soft.
“he is good,” neytiri whispered to jake, leaning her head on his shoulder.
jake hummed in agreement. “they are good.”
#avatar 2#avatar the way of water#neteyam sully#tuk sully#tuktirey#loak sully#sully family#sully family x reader#sully family x y/n#sully siblings x reader#sully!reader#jake sully#lo'ak x oldersister!reader#lo'ak sully#loak#lo'ak#neteyam#neytiri
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Compass Of Pirates - Nikolai Lantsov
Summary: Nikolai is given a compass that he was told would solve all his problems, and yet he cannot figure out why it doesn't seem to work.
Yes, I am merging with Pirates Of The Caribbean because I fucking can.
Content Warnings: No Beta/Proof Reading.
Nikolai Taglist: @hauntedenthusiasttragedy
The brass points across the centre of the compass are centred by a sundial, which as far as Sturmhond can tell is the most functional part of the compass. He holds the compass in the clutch of his palm, staring at the red arrow as it gently swings between two points, neither of which are north. He had picked it up from someone in one of the markets in the last port they docked in. It was this rocky, mountainous island, just off the northern coast of the mainland. The name of the port escapes the captains mind, but it was some fishing port with a name not unlike a weapon of some kind. But that isn't really important, what is important is the illusion of help this compass had been acquired under. "It will bring you to what you most desire," they had said, "the compass never leads you wrong." He had been dubious but nevertheless he has hope he isn't sure he has a right to, and yet he was finding the outcome very disappointing.
"This thing doesn't even point north," Sturmhond says, staring again at the compass in his hand. Mal shrugs, offering out his open hand.
"May I?" he asks. He hands it over, without pause and the dial spins to quickly into a new direction the moment it touches Mal's palm. Mal watches the dial and follows it's direction. He knows exactly what the privateer has observed, that this compass does not point north, but instead it is now pointing at Alina, who is leaning over the edge of the ship, staring at the way the waves are breaking onto the boats side, creating the white foam of sea spray and she is smiling like she has never seen the ocean before. "Oh, Sturmhond," Mal says, "it points north alright," he chuckles, "true north."
The Captain frowns. "True north?" he questions, staring the tracker down. "What kind of navigational system are you working on Oretsev?"
"The only one that hasn't ever lead me wrong," he hands the compass back to Sturmhond and the moment it enters his hand it changes direction back to where it had been previously pointing. Mal taps the fabric of his shirt, directly over his heart. "I told Alina about true north once, she asked me what scared me most, and I told her I get the most scared when I am lost, but I don't really get lost. Yet, getting lost happens even if you know where you are sometimes. So I told her about cardinal north and true north."
"Cardinal north is a direction on a map," Sturmhond says. Mal nods, not letting his eyes leave the Sun Summoner. "So, as for true north?"
"True north is home," Mal says, sounding more like a poet than a tracker, "it is where you feel safe and loved."
"Miss Starkov is your truth north," Sturmhond says with a nod. Mal doesn't even need to respond to that. "So you think this compass points to what exactly?"
"Whatever you most desire, that's what the translation says on the side isn't it?" Mal says, finally looking at him. "You did see that, didn't you? Since you're always six steps ahead of everything, and ever so flawless Captain?"
He is too eager to test the theory to even care about Mal's teasing of him. He just thanks him absentmindedly and follows the compass forward. "Don't walk off the edge of the ship," Mal calls after him, "or do..."
He spends a good while walking the length of the decking, trying to figure out why the dial spins into a change of direction, seemingly without link. "Maybe you don't know what you want," Mal teases, observing him.
"Doesn't this interest you?" Sturmhond asks, running a hand through his tousled hair.
Mal shrugs. "What use is a compass what would be pointing right beside me all of the time?" he asks. "Besides my heart always brings me back to her."
"You're good with your words when it suits you, aren't you?" Tamar asks, coming to stand beside Mal, bored of her card game and far more interested in whatever it is that has gotten the Captain all pacing and flustered. "Still staring at the broken compass?"
"It's not broken," Mal says, "it's just not helpful."
"A compass's only purpose is to point north, and it doesn't, so it's broken," Tamar argues.
"It's a heart compass, not a compass," Mal says. The Heartrender laughs.
"Those are legend," she says, taking some walnuts from her pocket to snack on. She offers him one and he shakes his head to dismiss the offer.
"Wasn't the Stag legend too?" Mal retorts. Tamar gives him a shrug.
"That means nothing of all legend," is her response, but she keeps watching Sturmhond.
"It doesn't even make sense," he says finally holding the compass up and above his head to see how the dial moves. "It's not pointing to anything, I thought it might've been pointing to Ravka but I was wrong."
"You're suggesting your truest love is a country?" Mal asks, "what kind of excessive patriotism is that?"
"You're not patriotic?" Tamar asks, her tone littered with laughter.
"No," he admits, not feeling pulled down by the admission, "I came here for Alina. She's my flag, my nation, she is the one thing I remain loyal to."
Tamar's question was to sway Mal from paying too much attention to the captains words, but he doesn't throw her a look of gratitude, instead he returns to his fixation on the compass, as it spins to point towards the ships bow. Some of the crew start to appear on deck, changing placement as the time passes, and Tolya walks beside you, as you tell him something out of their earshot.
He takes his eyes off the compass, staring directly at you, forgetting what his original intentions had been, he offers you a smile and you grin back, all teeth and cheer. Even after the days at sea nothing seemed to sway your mood.
Tamar elbows Mal in the side and before her can take issue with it, she nods his attention to Sturmhond, who has lost interest in the compass altogether in your presence.
"Got it working yet?" you ask, coming closer to the three of them Tolya by your side.
"Think it might be a lost cause," the privateer admits, holding the compass down and to his side, as if to hide it's direction from those around you.
"Come on, Captain, plenty have said that about broken things, but often you just need time or the right pair of hands," you say, "show me?"
He hesitates and Mal and Tamar share a look, a look that spreads into matching grins. "Oh, he is not as smart as he gives himself credit for," Mal says in hushed words.
"Most of the time he is, but any heart can get blind sighted, and when the heart is blind, the mind can fog," Tamar says, voice equally low.
You look at him and he is smiling at you like you're a sunrise, like he is seeing you for the first time, and you wonder how he always manages to look at you like this. Look at you in a way that makes your head spin and your stomach twist. You know Sturmhond, and you know the man can flirt like second nature, that no one you've yet to meet have been susceptible to his charms, so you try not to let go to your head. But that's not easy when he looks at you like he has just discovered what love is for the very first time.
He holds out the compass out and you look at it, not reaching to take it from his hands, you move around to his perspective for the dial to swing back in your direction. You lean around him, to get a better look and then stare out at the ocean. But he just watches you, not as much are daring to confirm what he suspects by glancing to the compass.
You move back in front of him, and the dial points to you, and you turn your head to look at the big blue expanse behind. "Compass doesn't know north that's for sure," you say, giving him a wild smile and a shrug. "But I guess it's no better than most of us in that."
"It doesn't know north," he agrees, shoving the compass back in his pocket, "but it seems to know things I should have before now."
"Hmm?" you ask, turning back to him from the waves.
"Nothing, now, tell me, what was so funny?"
#shadow and bone#grishaverse#nikolai lantsov#nikolai lantsov fanfic#nikolai lanstov x reader#nikolai x you#nikolai x reader#malina#alina x mal#tamar kir bataar#sturmhond x reader#sturmhond x you#sturmhond#tolya my darling i adore you
470 notes
·
View notes
Text
✧ sequel to my vampire eddie microfic because i had the urge to write a scene from steve's pov and make it super sweet so have 1k of a fluffy morning after ✧
Everything is so warm.
Steve rubs his nose deeper into the sheets with a content sigh, basking in the glow of a soft morning.
"What are you still doing here?!"
Blearily, Steve pulls his eyes open, slowly shifting in place to survey the room around him. He's alone, which is a major bummer, he's gonna have to dock points from Eddie for that. Then again, he muses as he looks over the clothes that are hanging from everywhere, including on top of the ceiling fan, maybe a few points don't matter much when he's definitely up in the hundreds already.
Oh shit, that's the brand new outfit, the one he and Robin spent hours agonizing over before their night out, thrown across the floor, isn't it? Fuck.
"Be polite, he's a guest -"
Steve stretches out his back, lifting his sore arms up towards the sky where his hands brush against the muscle tee, the one on the ceiling fan, that Eddie was wearing last night. Oh, now there's an idea.
With a smirk, Steve pulls the tee down and onto himself, fluffing out his hair and hoping today is one of those days he can pull off the bedhead look.
"Eddie?" he calls out softly as he steps out of the bedroom, rubbing at one of his eyes, the one on the side that was squished up against Eddie all night (well, not all night...).
"Stevie!"
His voice is loud and happy, far more chipper than Steve expected from a vampire after a long night. He blinks, looking up to see Eddie beaming at him with flour dusting his hair and a whisk in one hand. The sunlight filters through with the shades to cast lines of light across him and with the way he's smiling, Steve doesn't think he's ever seen a prettier sight.
"I was just making breakfast for you, I wasn't sure if you were a morning person but I figure, y'know, sun-kissed skin and whatnot, it'd make sense if you were -"
He can't help it, Steve lets out a giggle, something small and light, something he used to never let himself have. But Eddie's smile makes it so worth it. Steve smiles back shyly, gliding in closer and stroking a hand up Eddie's arm (he's wearing a different shirt, maybe he took it out of his closet?). "You're making me breakfast?"
The vampire sighs dreamily as he looks into Steve's eyes, his fangs peeking out from his dopey little smile. There's so much flour in his hair, did he forget to tie it up before starting to cook? "Yeah..."
"That's so sweet," Steve coos, bringing his hands up to cup Eddie's face, pull him in closer and nuzzle their noses together. "Thank you, Eds."
He slowly opens his eyes and stifles back a giggle at how desperately cute Eddie's expression is, eyes flickering between Steve's face and his own shirt, cheeks flushed pink with Steve's blood. He has a feeling that if vampires had tails, Eddie's would be wagging uncontrollably right now.
"So, what're you making me?" he whispers, dragging his nose down the curve of Eddie's jaw, breathing in his scent of iron and cranberries (did he have some juice? or does blood just smell like cranberries on a vampire?).
"I - uh, ha -" Eddie swallows and Steve tracks the motion with the bridge of his nose, peeking up over Eddie's shoulder to look at -
"Shit, is that the time?!"
"Wha -"
Steve shoves himself away from Eddie, rushing back into the bedroom and slamming the door shut. He frantically pulls off the tee (goodbye cozy morning, sigh) and grabs his skirt from last night - no stains on it, or on his top, thank fuck.
"Stevie?"
"Gimme a sec!" Steve calls out, crawling out from under the bed with his shoes in hand. Fuck, fuck, fuck, how did it get so late, Robin's gonna be so mad -
"What's -"
"I'm so sorry, Eddie!" Steve yanks the door open, guilt curdling up his insides when he sees Eddie waiting outside his own bedroom door with a hopeful-turned-distressed expression. He walks past him, hopping on one leg as he puts a shoe on. "I have a thing I need to get to, I honestly forgot until I saw the time -"
"Pfft, likely story," a random voice says.
He spins to stare at the sofa, where three people are strewn about, legs and arms overlapping each other. Only one of them is awake, a bleary-eyed, wavy-haired guy that's glaring at Steve.
"Shoulda thought of that excuse before he started nagging at us."
"It's not an excuse," Steve snaps, finally managing to get his second shoe on. "I have brunch -"
"Told you, dude," the guy lazily rolls his eyes over to Eddie, sending a hot flash of anger through Steve.
"Oh fuck you," he hisses, pointedly grabbing Eddie's hand (the one without the whisk, why is he still holding it?) and pulling him in closer. He glares at Eddie, who's staring at him with big doe eyes, softening at the gaze. "I'm really sorry I can't stay, Eds."
"But...waffles?" he says quietly, like he's confused, like Steve isn't making any sense.
And he isn't, not really, but he can't afford to be late to the Robin-and-Steve-Monthly-Gossip-Brunch after they both missed the past two months already, third time's the charm and he does not want to find out what that charm would be for.
"I'm sorry," he says again, wincing when Eddie visibly deflates. Steve presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, just so he doesn't get distracted and lose even more time, and pats his chest. "I was really looking forward to breakfast with you."
A little bit of shine comes back to Eddie's eyes, flickering over from Steve to the window. He speeds away, whisk clattering somewhere in the kitchen, as Steve blinks and suddenly he's back, holding up his leather jacket towards Steve with a shy smile.
"'S cold out. Take my jacket?" Eddie asks and Steve pulls him in, flour-hair and all, for the deepest, filthiest kiss he can give, swallowing down his gasp, his moan and every last sliver of his minty breath.
"Thanks, babe." Steve whispers, pulling the jacket on (at least it makes up for the muscle tee failure) and relishing in the warmth. He opens the front door, presses one final, chaste kiss to Eddie's lips and walks out, the smell of cranberries sticking to his skin.
Eddie watches Steve leave in his jacket with a sigh, already longing for that pretty voice to say "Eds" to him again.
"You know," Gareth says from the couch, which pops the blissful balloon Eddie was happily floating in. He turns to glare at his three friends, all lounging on the couch even after he told them to be presentable. Gareth continues, "You know, you could have offered to drop him off. He'd get there faster and you'd get more time with him too. I mean, did you even get his number?"
Silence. Then -
"Fuck!"
#sailor✧writes#steddie#steveddie#ficlet#writing#au content: vampire#this was so much fun#i debated having hints of vampire hunter steve who actually doesn't want to hunt them but then i thought eh let's have it sweet for now
260 notes
·
View notes
Text
Home II
Word Count: 3.0k (not proof read)
(there is a song added to the end of this part, I'm going to start adding them to certain ones when they fit as they play while I'm writing)
Azriel begins his time on the continent. He bumps into someone who can't seem to leave him alone...
Part I , Part III
Leaving Velaris behind was a blur in his mind. It was Feyre and Rhysand who had seen him off, Nyx dozing in Feyre's arms as he boarded the boat - winnowing was out of the question considering his state.
He'd said goodbye to everyone else the day before, not really wanting a huge send off when he didn't want to go in the first place. The trip wasn't as long as he'd wished, the weeks passing by like they barely happened. As he spotted the first sign of land in Mother knows how long, Azriel could no longer pretend that his destination was Velaris and that he'd already paid his dues in the foreign land.
Mor had greeted him at the port of a city called Indere. The bustling of fae moving cargo to and from the ships docked was a blur to the shadowsinger as he and Mor walked towards the streets. Her efforts here with the ruling fae had begun to bear fruit. Trade routes beginning to take shape between the most eastern courts of Prythian.
They had begun their trek to the landlocked side of the city when Mor finally decided she'd had enough of idle chat that went unanswered. "Rhys told me what happened. For what it's worth, I am sorry Az."
Azriel looked towards the female he now saw as his sister. It had taken centuries, and Mor's reveal of who she ultimately preferred, but Azriel had been able to accept that his love for her would only ever be enough as a brother's love. And he had been happier for it, to know that there was a familial bond there like his brother's that he could always look to. The pain was gone, and he no longer held onto the pain of it that had suffocated him for as long as he could remember.
But at that moment Azriel wished that he could go back to the time where he was hopelessly in love with her. The pain of knowing he could have her was much more bearable than what he felt now.
Still, he nodded his head, not saying a word and Mor carried on.
"I've learned a lot while being here. It's taken a lot of time to find common ground after everything that's happened. But it's finally becoming worth it. Especially when I've found a lot of fae that remind me of why I'm doing this."
It seemed Mor's words were a beacon when he noticed a flurry of feathers barrel towards the two of them. His hand reached for the blades strapped to his sides, but noticing Mor's easy stance purely rested it on the hilt for easy access should the need arise.
"Mor!" the two watched as the feathers - no, wings - abruptly flared to slow the Fae as they reached them. The young male landed silently and covered the last of the distance between them on his feet, tucking them behind his body.
Azriel took note of the differences between their wings. While his lllyrian ones were dark, leather like skin stretched over taloned membrane, the ones in front of him were feathered, each one a different shade of brown. They looked heavier than his, and he was sure the male in front of him had to lift them constantly so they wouldn't drag across the ground.
"Aodhan, I thought you'd be on your way by now." Mor's mouth turned into a soft smile, the same one he'd seen in the first weeks after Nyx was born.
"I should be, but we forgot to give you this last night." The male - Aodhan - handed her a small package wrapped neatly, a piece of lavender tucked into the strings it was wrapped in. Aodhan turned his attention from Mor to Azriel for the first time, he gaze curious, "Who's this?"
"Oh! This is Azriel, one of my three brothers I told you about." Aodhan nodded in recognition but his attention had strayed from Azriel's face to behind him. "Whoa..."
Azriel turned his head slightly to catch a glimpse of his wings. They twitched slightly under the attention. He should have been used to it, but it was different when someone else sporting the same looked at them for longer than a second. He wondered if Aodhan thought his own feathered ones were better. They were more beautiful to look at.
"Can you fly in the rain?"
"Beg pardon?" Well, that was not what he expected, but Aodhan seemed to wait for an answer, and when none came he repeated himself.
"Yes, so long as the wind allows it." Azriel watched as Aodhan huffed out a breath, almost like he was about to throw a tantrum.
"Damn, wish I could. All these things are good for are back aches and good weather. Sopping wet feathers just drag you down."
Although Azriel thought that would be the end of it, the winged male seemed to only begin with the questions as the three walked in the direction he came from.
"How fast can you fly?... do you get back aches?...Oh, do you have to build shelter or can you just cocoon yourself with your wings?!"
It was never ending, and Mor's discreet giggles meant he'd find no help from her.
"Aodhan, if you don't stop badgering Mor's friend you'll walk the journey home." A voice cut through the jabbering in Azriel's ear. He watched as Aodhan seemed to immediately shut it, and walk towards the direction of his saviour.
A female stood beside a mare saddled for long travels, satchels hung on her back as she trod in anticipation against the ground.
He took in the female, riding leathers covered by a green cloak, hair tied back loosely with a ribbon of the same colour. But what caught his attention were her eyes. It looked as if grey clouds had clouded over any colour, her pupils only a slight shade darker being the only contrast.
There was movement at her feet, and a small feline with fur the brightest oranges and reds he'd ever seen coiled round her in a figure of eight, eyes closed in content until it noticed the new presences. Closely tucking itself between her two legs, the feline watched Azriel warily, looking as if it'd scratch out his eyes if he deigned to wander too close to its master.
"You must be Azriel" her voice was softer than the first time he heard it. It seemed to carry on a light breeze to his ears, and he swore he could feel it flow around every inch if him in a comforting wave.
She offered him her name, turning slightly to stroke the neck of her mount. While her face turned its attention to her interests, Azriel noted the faraway gaze of her eyes, never quite focusing where it was directed. Even now, looking at the mare, it was almost as if she couldn't see-
His intake of breath must have been sharp with how quick everyone looked to him. Never in his long life had he seen someone who looked to be a blind high fae. Lucien had lost his eye to Amarantha, yes, but that was entirely different, and he still had one good one. She seemed to be comfortable in her condition, as if she'd lived her whole life with it, and never known what it was like to miss it.
Embarrassment and shame filled him when he realised what he'd done. Mor slightly turned away, and Aodhan looked ready to snap at him, gone was the curious male he first met and instead a protector stood in his place.
It was her who stepped in before he could make a bigger fool of himself. She walked with steady grace, not a foot unsure of where it stepped and held a hand out in greeting. "I understand its a shock to most who don't know me, so don't worry, I'm not offended."
Azriel looked to her hand and then his own, tanned and scarred and wondered what she'd make of them. Still, whatever weight he held about them he wouldn't turn away her olive branch, and gently grasped her own.
There was no gasp of surprised horror he was so used to by now. Her head tilted, and she brought up her other hand to trace the top of his while the other did the same to his palm. Warm, nimble fingers passed over each indent, mapping them, memorising each dip and curve and the contrast in scarred tissue to the flesh that remained.
It was tender, knowing, and Azriel felt so much in that one touch that he had to slightly pull to free his hand from a grasp like nothing he felt before. Even Elain, who had gazed at his hands and touched them more times than he could count, had never poured that much thought into the action. She would always have that look in her eyes as she did, of wanting to undo what had been done, and bring back unmarred flesh he couldn't even remember having. This female, Mother help him, had touched his hands like they had always been maimed, and held no remorse for what never could be again.
"Welcome to Indere. Mor's told me you'll be staying for while" His head snapped to his sister, shock at her easy reveal of information to someone she barely knew compared to those back in Velaris. He didn't know how much she had unveiled, and hoped that she'd kept the reason for his visit to herself. "For a while, yes. We thought it was time someone joined her." He watched them to see their reaction, his shadows that had been settled in the darkness of his wings thrummed in anticipation of being freed into the new world of secrets ripe for the taking. There was no sign of them knowing he'd spun the truth into a lie. Rhysand had sent him to check on Mor more closely, but it was secondary to him getting away from Prythian for a while.
"Well, I hope you enjoy your time here. It was lovely to meet you, but we've got to start the journey back home." Azriel matched her nod of farewell, and watched as she swung herself up into the saddle. The feline that had not moved since he had arrived began to slowly prowl as she readied to leave. How it was going to keep up with the speed of her mare left the shadowsinger perplexed.
Mor reached her side, and whispered her goodbyes. The only thing stopping their departure was Aodhan's unmoving stance, seemingly caught up in thought.
"Aodhan?" her questioning tone brought the male out of stupor, and a gleam shone over his face as he looked between Azriel, Mor and his companion. "Azriel, have you ever celebrated Samhain?"
It turned out today was just one big headache for Azriel as he tried to understand why Aodhan asked him such a question. "I can't say it's a big festival in Prythian no."
Aodhan's reason to laugh was something only privy to himself. Turning to Mor, the glint never left his eyes, "I think I found a solution to your little problem."
"They're from an island called Inis Gaoithe, it's north of the continent, and the swelling ocean surrounding it makes it impossible to cross by boat." Mor's words passed over him, but he still didn't grasp what she was trying to tell him.
The four of them had moved into a tavern not far from the road the two had initially went to start their journey. Ale sat in the tankard in front of himself and Aodhan, while the two ladies sipped from their glasses of wine, the feline curled up beside its master. It was Aodhan who took up the mantle of explaining, "It's part of an archipelago of Islands, ours is the largest of four, but they're all home to muintir na lasrach, a species of fae born from the pheonix."
Azriel scoured his mind for information about the pheonix, and the supposed fae that came from them. Pheonix hadn't been born in millenia, the last being recorded dead long before he was born. There was no mention of any fae like the ones mentioned, at least not in the records of Prythian. "I've never heard of anything like this before."
"It's not uncommon for people not to know of us. We've kept to ourselves for centuries, even during the first war with Hybern we played a very minor role, we didn't have the numbers to supply a great deal of support, especially with the rest of the continent on the fence of who to ally with." Her voice cut through his mind, even and calm. Aodhan had been vibrating with energy since they'd begun their explanation.
"What's the reason for telling me all of this?" He didn't know why but he directed his question to her instead of the other two. She took a drink from her glass before she continued. "I met Mor in the first few weeks of her arrival, and her work intrigues me. Our islands are cut off from the rest of the world for a long time, and I think we should entertain the idea of opening the borders. But, there's a slight problem. We have -" he voice stopped as she tried to find the right words, "criteria... for fae that are not of phoenix blood to visit the island. One of those being that they must be born with wings."
Aodhan's fluttered slightly at the mention. "Mor, unfortunately, is not included in that, and it makes it even more difficult for the chiefs to even begin entertaining the idea of a foreign visitor."
Azriel mulled over their words for an amount of time, but something wasn't adding up in his mind. He turned to address the problem. "So, what about you? Last I checked, there are no wings sprouting from your back."
It was the second time Aodhan reacted badly to Azriel that day. Whatever novelty he had built up with the other male was growing thin. "Don't you fucking dare ask something like tha-"
The call of his name stopped him short of lashing out any further. As she spoke, Azriel felt the foolishness begin to creep into his mind once more. "You're right to ask, I'd be concerned if you hadn't. Aodhan is my son, so you can think of me as an extension of him."
Speechless didn't begin to cover the way Azriel felt. They looked nothing alike, polar opposites in every way. And yet the certainty in her eyes, the unwavering pride she held in her tone as she spoke of him like that left no room for question. Aodhan's outburst had been warranted, for him to talk of his mother in such a way, to be suspicious of her explanation- Azriel for once felt drowned by the lack of knowledge he possessed.
"I'm sorry, for accusing you of.. well- I'm sorry." She shook her head, seeming to have already forgiven him before he had even asked. Aodhan. Not so much.
They resumed talking, Mor filling him in on how she had been sending letters to and from the archipelago for weeks now with no word of breaking through their strict rules. But with Azriel's arrival and his basic anatomy, well, the task began to seem much more doable in a shorter amount of time.
The four of them went their separate ways as the sun began to set, the others extending their stay for a day to allow him time to dissolve the information and come to an answer.
He and Mor walked back along the port, to the inn she had been staying at prior to his arrival. "I know this isn't what you were sent here for. But I think working on something like this will do you some good. Rhys means well, but you know he can sometimes be looking in the wrong direction for solutions."
He didn't answer, and hadn't really all day when it came to her. The distraction of the task in front of him was a welcome surprise. He hadn't had time since he met the two fae to think of what happened, too much information was still swirling that his mind had no extra space to be occupied by the pain.
"I'll cover for you, of course. They've agreed to allow letters to be sent in and out to my person, and I can pass them on to Velaris so the busybodies at home won't become suspicious ."
Azriel knew he had already decided before any of this. He'd go to Inis Gaoithe, open the borders and prove to Rhys and Feyre and everyone that he was worth something, some kind of recognition. The glint in his eyes must have been telling by the hand on his arm as Mor stopped him. "This isn't a succeed or fail mission Az. These fae, they've isolated themselves for reasons I don't know. They're happy, peaceful and refuse to have anything to do with our world anymore. I just want to try, to show them that we can create a world where everyone belongs..."
He looked at his sister, the woman he used to be so helplessly in love with, and sighed. "I know, I know. But I'm not going to half ass it at the same time. If I can find an opening, I'll take it, no matter what." Her smile was knowing, and she laughed under her breath. "I know you won't Az, you can't do anything with half a heart. It's what we love about you." He knew she wasn't just talking about Inis Gaoithe, or his work as the Shadowsinger.
But his heart was still torn and fractured, and the words barely made a dent, never mind trying to stitch it back together. Azriel wanted to be worth the love he so desperately craved to feel. He'd be the reason for something good in the world, and not just for secrets and dark dark deeds that kept everyone safe from the shadows.
He'd be worth the outward love that shone on those who walked in the sunlight, and not in the shadows like him. He just needed to prove it.
#azriel spymaster#azriel angst#azriel x reader#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#rhysand#morrigan#mor acotar#illyrian#azriel shadowsinger#azriel
195 notes
·
View notes
Text
Pairing: Mer! King Bakugou x Mer! Queen Reader
Word Count: 5.3
Warnings: Fluff! Possessive behavior. Biting lol. Female! Reader
Summary: Katsuki convinces you to change into a mermaid.
𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
Courting a human sucks. It is all sugar-coated, a bunch of nonsense to try to appease the other. The way mers did it was simple. Show potential mates you can provide with gifts and food, and make sure your bodies are compatible. Of course, Bakugou hasn’t gotten that far with you and his face heats up whenever he thinks about it. But in the less dirty sense, he knows you find his body attractive and your body was equally as perfect.
So yes, the king should be done with the whole courting thing. It’s been about a month now and you are still frustratingly human. You haven’t given in to his antics.
You haven’t accepted the blonde because frankly, you are absolutely terrified of being a mermaid. Sure, you didn’t have much family nor friends to leave behind, but still, it was a whole new world. You weren’t sure if you were mentally prepared for that.
“You. Pretty,” The mer at your feet huffs, frown still on his face, contrasting the compliment. From his research, he decided that humans like compliments.
“Yeah? Thanks, Kats, but you have told me that ten times today.” He trills in annoyance and uses the tip of his tail to splash water at you. You squeal but giggle at the cool water that falls upon your face.
He grips your left leg and presses his face to your calf. “Mate now?” He asks, just as he had done for the past couple of days. He then begins to gently nibble on any skin he can lay his teeth on. You give him a sharp glance, warning him to be gentle. Your legs are already littered with bite marks thanks to a certain someone. He rolls his eyes, but abides, not wanting to piss you off.
Once satisfied with the mer you sigh. “Yknow, human courting is more than just giving compliments.”
He lets out an overdramatic growl and you raise your eyebrows. His orange face fins fall flat against his head. “Human ways stupid,” He hisses and you roll your eyes.
“Forgive me King Bakugou, ruler of the sea, for being a human,” You tease sarcastically and he glares at you. You smile and reach to pet his hair, he grumbles but leans into the touch. “Alright, I have seen that you tried. I'll be your mate Katsuki. Just give me a week to you know–prepare to be a mermaid?”
He pulls away from your leg, eyes wide. He almost seems to be happy, but of course, knowing Katsuki, he wasn’t about to show it. So, instead, he barks a complaint, “Too long. Now!”
You gently push the tip of your foot onto his forehead, forcing his head to tilt back. He bares his teeth at you, but doesn’t move from the position. “A week. Keep complaining and I won’t be going at all,” You threaten and he narrows his eyes at you.
Sometimes, Katsuki was demanding. It was fine in most cases, but if you sit there and take it all the time, it will definitely go to his head. You are not one of his subjects to boss around.
So, alas, he moves away from you and nods with a huff.
He swims back up to the dock and uses his tail to push himself out of the water, as he has done countless times. He rests his forearms next to your legs, successfully holding you still. He is slightly shorter than you in the position, but still way more threatening out of the two of you.
“Kiss?” He asks, but it comes out more like a demand.
Nevertheless, you are happy to oblige, and you swear you could see a small smile on his face when he presses his lips to yours.
When Katsuki heads home for the day the last thing he wanted to see was two idiots in his court.
“Did you see when she pressed that strange thing on his forehead?” The blonde-haired, and yellow-tailed, mer trills. He stares curiously at the figure above the water that is walking away.
“Yeah, and Bakugou didn’t even try to bite it off! He is totally whipped.” The red-headed shark, who looks almost exactly like a mer, excluding the extra large fin on his back, says in return. The two are so close to one another that they look like two schoolgirls talking about their crushes. They don’t seem to notice their king’s presence.
Katsuki, suddenly grabs the two of them by the back of their necks, causing them to jump. He has a murderous smile when talking. “And what the fuck are you two idiots doing over here?”
The two eye each other and smile sheepishly. “Just you know. Looking for our king!” Eijiro, the braver out of the two says enthusiastically.
“And new queen,” Denki half mumbles and Katsuki eyes him suspiciously. He can’t help but like the way it falls from one’s mouth though. But, the larger mer refuses to say that out loud, so instead he growls and drags the two away.
Then, he begins planning for your arrival.
Today was the last day of you being human. You sigh and go through your items, wondering if you’ll ever need them again. Becoming a mermaid is a life change, obviously. So, you were struggling just a little.
You got rid of most of your stuff, but you were hesitant about removing them all. If going with Katsuki didn’t work out, would you be able to come back? You had to ask later.
So here you are, walking out of the small shack you called home. You approach the dock with only a bag full of the mer’s gifts during his courting process. You couldn’t imagine leaving them behind.
Katsuki is at his usual spot, peaking his head above the water. A pink figure is next to him. Your eyes widen, in the six weeks you knew the mer, he has never introduced you to anyone. This had to be the person changing you.
You gulp, but a familiar bark calls you over. You smile nervously. “Hey, Kats. Who’s this?” You take in her appearance. Bright pink hair, skin, and tentacles. An octopus. You have never seen one that looks like her. She was beautiful.
“Mina. Friend. Ch-Change you.” The octopus tried to talk but it comes out as strange gasping and gurgles. You could tell it was the mer language but was definitely a little different considering it was coming from an octopus. So you just smile and wave at her.
She smiles so wide in return and you begin to feel a little comforted. Mina grabs at your ankles and begins to continue talking in the language you cannot for the life of you understand. You look toward Katsuki for help, a little afraid that she might drag you in. She looks nice enough, but she is a sea creature. You don’t trust them completely yet.
“Look at her tentacles Bakugou! Only two of them. How weird!” Katsuki rips her hand away from your body and growls at her.
“Watch it. That is your Queen that you dare to touch without my approval.” Mina shrinks her hand away and nods hesitantly. She totally forgot how important you are.
The octopus tries to do a curtsey, but it looks more like she just submerged more of her body in the water. Katsuki huffs and nods while you look at her confused. “Katsuki what is she doing?”
“Showing Re-spect. Queen.” You look at him wide-eyed. You were not going to get used to this.
“Oh. Um, thank you?” Mina has no idea what you are saying but continues to stare at you with stars in her eye. Unknown to you, but she has been waiting for the day the blonde finally chose his mate for years now. You laugh awkwardly.
She grins at the sound and turns toward the king who is wishing this process went a lot quicker. “What did she say? Tell me Bakugou!”
He rolls his eyes. “She says thanks. Now can you get on with it?” She nods, used to the blonde’s behavior, and beckons Katsuki to grab for your hand. He holds his hand out to you, and you take it. He begins to lead your hand to the octopus but stops.
You begin to tremble, nerves getting the best of you. Katsuki looks at you, eyes furrowed with concern. He quickly scans the area. “No danger. Don’t be afraid. Protect you. Promise, mate.”
You smile at the reassurance but it doesn’t help. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to be a mermaid, but this once again is a huge change. Your whole world is about to do a 180.
You don’t know how to phrase this any nicer, but you have to get it off your chest. “If I…If I want to go back home, as a human. Will I be able to?”
Katsuki grimaces. He had to admit that question hurt, but it was reasonable. Mers may mate for life, but humans don’t. After a while would you leave? Would he let you leave him? He didn’t like pondering such nonsense things.
But, for your sake, he turned to Mina and translated your question. She takes a second to think about it but nods and explains how easy it is to reverse the spell.
He feels hesitant about telling you this. “Yes. But–Don’t leave. Stay. With me.” Katsuki pauses, looking up at you. He huffs. “Please?” He has never asked for anything in his life, and if anyone in his court heard this they would be flabbergasted.
This is also the first time he has also said please to you. You smile and run your fingers over his webbed ones, and nod at him reassuringly. “Wasnt planning to. Just wanna keep my options open. Just in case, yknow, something bad goes wrong.”
He, like usual, grumbles, but he does understand. You’re smart. Thinking about how a situation could go bad, and how to keep yourself safe. Things queens should be thinking about it. So, although it feels wrong instinctually to agree with you, he can’t help but feel a little prideful at your statement. “I un–understand. But, nothing go wrong.”
You chuckle at his statement, but don’t disagree. You hope nothing does go wrong. You hope that the two of you will stay together forever while you are down there.
Mina gurgles, annoyed that she can’t understand what you guys are talking about. Katsuki clicks at her sharply and she rolls her eyes. Then the mer brings your hand onto hers. You gulp. “Ready?” He barks.
“As I’ll ever be.”
Your vision begins to fade, and the last thing you see is Katsuki grinning, canines hanging out of his mouth that looks almost animalistic.
When you awake you are underwater and breathing it. You of course panic when your first wake up, but immediately remember.
You begin to take in your surroundings. You are in a dark sort of cave. It’s hard to see much, but you are very much alone. It unnerves you. Where the hell was Katsuki?
You begin to move but forget about your new appendages. You quickly turn around to get a look at your tail and gasp. It was pretty. A light green, with glittering scales that are not that exciting in the darkness. But still, you could tell it was beautiful. It was definitely smaller than Katsuki’s massive orange one, but definitely still large.
You put all your years of playing mermaid in the public pool into the effort at this exact moment and suddenly, you are swimming. Not fast, of course, considering you are definitely confined into a small space, but definitely something. You smile wide and swim in circles, twirling around, fulfilling your childhood dreams.
Suddenly a noise startles you out of your thoughts. You freeze and quickly duck low, hiding from whoever it was. Chances were, it was Katsuki, but you aren’t willing to risk it.
“I don’t know man, this seems like a bad idea. Bakugou is going to kill us if he sees us.”
“Just one peek. It will be fine, Kirishima, stop being such a guppy. We will ask her not to tell him we were here!” Eijiro looks over toward the blonde mer, and nods hesitantly. He begins to drag the shark toward the end of the cave.
Suddenly, a rock is thrown at them. Not hard, considering you are not used to the dynamics of force in the water, but definitely still there. The shark jumps and looks at you in shock. “M-My Queen.” The two strangers bow at you and you grab another rock.
“Who are you guys? And where is Katsuki?” You hiss, green face fins spread in alarm. The two look at you in shock.
The yellow-tailed mer is the first to respond. “How…How can you understand us? Didn’t you just transform?”
You begin to lower the rock in confusion. Then it hits you. You weren’t using your vocal cords the same as usually do. You were clicking and trilling at them. It was instinctual, you didn’t even know you were doing it.
Another figure appears and you hiss on instinct. When you do so though, you immediately cover your mouth, eyes wide in shock.
“I did it!” Mina says with a smile and swimming up close to you, way closer than normal personal space. She grabs your hand and begins to assess it. “I gave you something that helps with understanding mer linguistics. I just couldn’t wait to talk to our new Queen!”
“Does the king know?” Eijiro says eyebrows pinched in concern. He knows that Katsuki doesn’t like doing things without his approval. Especially stuff involving his new mate. That’s why if he and Denki were found out, they were fucked.
“Well, no! But he will be happy! Anyways, what are you guys doing in here? I am making sure the transformation went well.” She turns back to you and runs her hands over your face fins. You flinch at the strange feeling. “My Queen, can you please open your mouth for me?” You abide, and she begins to count your teeth and checks your canines.
Kaminari swims closer to the octopus. “We wanted to take a look! Bakugou really scored, huh? She is so pretty and–”
“I’ll ask you guys again. Where is Katsuki?” You hiss, cutting the blonde mer off. You weren’t trying to be rude, but you were overwhelmed, and the fact that he is not here when you are so vulnerable is upsetting you.
“Demanding! Perfect for a ruler!” He responds, a smile on his plastered on his face like he was used to being treated like this.
“He is hunting for you, my Queen.” The large shark, you were most wary about says, with a soft reassuring smile on his face.
“Y/N. Please, all of you call me Y/N, all this “my Queen” talk is throwing me off.”
They all look at each other hesitantly, wondering how exactly Bakugou will feel about being on a first-name basis with you. But, you were their queen, and this was your first command. So they all nod at you. “Of course…Y/N,” The blonde mer says and you smile. “Im Denki and this is Eijiro. And of course, you met Mina. We are part of King Bakugou’s court.”
Mina lifts your arms up and moves them around, humming to herself. “Anyways, don’t worry, he will be back soon. These two idiots aren’t supposed to be in here but don’t be afraid they are harmless.” The two grin at you at her statement and you return the gesture.
Suddenly, there is noise at the entrance of the cave. Mina drops your arm instantly, and moves to take a peek. She gasps and quickly turns her shocked gaze toward the other two. You watch the boys’ faces pale drastically.
Eijiro quickly stutters out, “M-My King….You are here–” before the two of them are pinned to the floor, held down by the backs of their neck. You gasp and Mina sighs, knowing this was going to happen.
“What the fuck are you two doing in here? I should banish you. Coming in here on my sleeping mate, your Queen, without my permission,” He hisses out, face fins spread wide, pupils constricted, and claws digging into their necks, causing the two to wince. “No, not banish, I should kill you guys for–”
You let out a small yelp, shocked by what the hell is happening. You have never seen Katsuki angry before, and now he is using full sentences to threaten to kill people. His very own subjects! It made you think about what he could do to you.
That’s not even talking about his appearance. He looked animalistic. Like he really would see his threat through. You didn’t know if you really were cut out for the world under the sea.
Katsuki whips his head toward you at the sound, and his eyes widen. He takes in your very much shaken appearance, trying to hide behind Mina. He of course didn’t mean to scare you. He assumed you were still asleep. “Out. All of you. I’ll deal with you later. Now!” The three quickly scamper out of the cave, leaving you alone with the king.
He sighs and rubs at his face. He swims up to you, but instictually, you flinch away due to his appearance. His eyes slowly contract back to usual and his facial fins relax. “Sorry. Sorry. Don’t be scared. Will not hurt you. Sorry. Mate. Protect.” He using your language again. It’s a little muffled under the water, but understandable.
But what really shocks you was how desperate he sounds. He really was afraid that you were scared of him. It made your heart throb. You have to think about it, but you speak in your tongue. “It’s okay. I’m okay. You shocked me a bit, but I’m not afraid of you Katsuki.”
He gently grabs onto your arms and this time you don’t flinch away. He sighs and hugs you. Katsuki mumbles, “Those fucking bastards.” In your neck and you laugh.
“I like them. Eijiro freaked me out at first, but they seem nice.” He jumps and pulls away from you, holding you not at arms length.
He furrows his eyebrows at you, confusion written all over his face. “What? Speak.”
“Um okay?”
“What the fuck? How the hell can you understand–Mina. That idiot! I knew she would somehow ruin this.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and you laugh.
“What’s the big deal? This is a good thing. You now can use full complex sentences. It’s honestly kinda weird, but now I can understand you more, without the growls and grumbles,” You reason and he looks away from you, a small blush on his face. He mumbles something under his breath. You hum in question.
“Nothing. I just–Whatever doesn’t matter.”
You cock your head to the side. “C’mon tell me, if I am to be your mate I have to understand what’s going on in that hard head of yours.” He rolls his eyes at your grin.
Katsuki mumbles out, “Didn’t want you to learn it yet.”
You furrow your eyebrows in confusion and then bring back the teasing. “Why? So you could be the only one to talk to me?” You smile and lightly tug on the two orange fins attached to his face.
He blushes and turns away from you. You have your answer. A laugh falls from your lips and he growls in embarrassment. “You possessive little shit! How would I be able to rule a kingdom without speaking your language?”
“I would teach you the basics. You could ask me to translate the rest.”
“With your fantastic English speaking?”
“Fuck you! I’m fantastic at speaking it, better than you.” You laugh at his cocky statement, and his eyes fall to your tail.
His grumbles stop as he stares at your tail. He runs his claws over it gently, admiring it. You stop your laughter to follow his gaze. “It’s pretty. Smaller than mine. It fits you. I knew you were destined to be a mer.”
You smile at him. It was rare for Katsuki to speak so gently with you, so you were soaking it all in. But, you turn the conversation back to what’s important. “You scared me earlier.” He scowls, remembering your terrified face, just a couple of minutes ago. “When you weren’t by my side when I woke up.”
His ruby eyes scan your face. “I was hunting. I was with you every second for the past week. If I didn’t I would most likely starve to death. I don’t know why the hell you woke up the one time I was gone. It’s your fault.” You give him a glance that said, really? at his ridiculous answer and he scoffs, giving in immediately. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s alright.”
He nods before he leads you over to the stone ledge covered in seaweed that you awoke on. “Rest. You just shifted. Mina says you should be sleeping. Can’t have you die on the first day of being a mer.”
“Die?!” You screech and Katsuki laughs mischievously.
“Im fucking with you. I didn’t dedicate six weeks courting your ass just for you to die. Sleep. Now.” You use your new appendage to hit his stomach at his teasing. But, you’re not used to your new strength, so you accidentally hit him way harder than you meant to. He winces and falls forward, having the wind knocked out of him. Your eyes widen and you spit out apologies immediately.
“Pretty and strong. Perfect.” He wheezes and you laugh nervously, fretting over him. He just pushes you back down on the slab, mumbling how he alright. He then curls up next to you and begins to lull you to sleep.
Two weeks go by, and now, officially you are Katsuki’s mate. Two nights ago it became official, and the both of you have bite marks on each other’s necks.
The one on yours is huge, he didn’t even try to make it hidden. It’s right below your ear, and no matter how hard you try, it will be shown to everyone. Possessive bastard.
Katsukis is a lot smaller, you were hesitant about biting him in the first place, so you placed it near his collarbone. He stopped wearing jewelry so that it could be shown and you swear he goes out of his way to crane his neck to display it when talking to someone. It was ridiculous.
But, other than his antics being queen honestly hasn’t been that hard. His court loves you already and his mother absolutely adores you. She saw you once scold Katsuki for being mean to one of his subjects and fell in love immediately.
You live in a palace. It was absolutely massive and was made out of gold. Katsuki says it has been here for hundreds of years. It was completely different than your beach shack, but you were growing fond of it.
Katsuki’s room is definitely very…Katsuki. It was more like a cave in all honestly. He says he likes to go with his roots. His instincts. Mers originally lived in caves after all. You have done some touch-ups to make it more home-like, but kept it the way he likes.
The gifts the both of you received hang upon the walls. It was a little strange to see a tennis ball held in such a protective case, but you didn’t say anything, not wanting to hurt his feelings.
Currently, you were talking to Eijiro as you were swimming to the dining room. You have slowly convinced Katsuki to actually eat in the dining room with the rest of his court, instead of bringing dead fish back in his mouth like a wild animal.
He agreed but forces the chefs to make his and your meals the fish he hunted. Everybody snickers about it behind his back, but nobody has the guts to say anything to his face.
Surprisingly, you actually enjoy eating fish. It took a couple of days of getting used to it, but it was a lot better when the chefs prepared it. You had no idea how they made the sauces for it, considering you guys were under the sea, but you knew you probably didn’t want to find out.
“And then we helped the guppy find his parents!” Eijiro clicks, snapping you out of your daydream. He was telling you about his day guarding the city.
You smile at him. “How sweet. I’m not surprised, you are a great soldier.” He grins at you and nods. The shark seems to have taken a liking to you, considering you don’t shit on him constantly like Katsuki does. You don’t mind. It was nice to have friends, you didn’t have many on the surface.
Suddenly the door behind you opens and the two of you turn toward it. Eijiro, like always, bows low in greeting. You smile.
Katsuki swims over toward the two of you, with the usual scowl plastered on his face. “Why talk to him?” He grumbles, not liking that you are alone with the shark. He knows nothing will ever happen, but still, it was annoying that he has so many kingly duties that he doesn’t get to spend as much time with you as his court does.
You rephrase his statement. “He asked us what we are talking about.” The shark nods and Katsuki looks at you like you slapped him. You cock your head, confused.
“Don’t trans–late. He is idiot.”
“You know he is a member of your court.”
“Our court.”
“Yes, our court.” He nods in triumph and you sigh, but smile. Katsuki has been going out of his way to talk to you in English. He likes the idea that only the two of you can communicate with one another like this.
The blonde swims up to you and presses his lips to yours, without a warning. Eijiro lets out a disgusted noise, before turning away and heading to the dining room by himself.
“Really?” You sigh when you pull away. He grins mischievously and grabs you by the hand, before leading you to the dining room.
Upon your entrance, your court “stands” from their chairs. They all bow and simultaneously say, “Greetings to His and Her Majesty.”
You smile and wave at your new family, you manage to get a small wave back from Denki. You still aren’t used to the whole dramatic greetings. Katsuki just nods in approval.
Katsuki sits at one end of the table, and you sit at the other. You actually hate doing this, you much rather sit next to one another, but it was important for the king and queen to also show respect.
You receive your custom-made meals, and your mate grins from across the room. “Salmon. Good.”
“Thanks, Kats.” You smile warmly at him, knowing he takes immense pride whenever he has “provided” for you successfully. He huffs but uses his hand to wave the thanks off. Denki has to hold back a laugh.
The others receive their meals and begin to indulge themselves. You are the only one who uses silverware, but you don’t mind, you are now used to the way merfolk eat. The first day it almost gave you a heart attack watching them viciously tear into the fish.
You talk to Mitsuki for most of the meal and occasionally join in Mina’s conversations. Katsuki talks to Eijiro most of the meal, but the two of you make eye contact multiple times. You always smile at him. It was a nice dinner. It always was.
You really love it here. Everyone is so kind to you. Being a queen is not too hard, but that is simply because Katsuki is really good at being a king. He is respected by everyone, so naturally, as his mate, you are too. Plus you haven’t had to make any life-changing decisions. Katsuki did that for you, and you were grateful. You didn’t have much experience ruling people.
Dinner ends uneventfully and you dont mind. The routine is nice. Katsuki leads you back to his room. It was the first time you have seen him all day besides dinner.
The day ends with just the two of you. You lay facing one another, and Katsuki runs his fingers through your hair. He kisses the bitemark on your neck. He then murmurs, “My Queen.” into your neck.
“Hmm?”
“Just like saying it.” You laugh lightly.
You sigh and look toward the stone ceiling. “It’s weird. If someone told me that I would be a ruler a year ago I would have fainted.”
He grins, canines on full display. You remember when they used to freak you out. Now you can’t help but love them. “Would you believe that you are mated to the strongest being of the sea?”
“I think you mean the most arrogant bastard of the sea.”
“Don’t act like you don’t love it.”
You roll your eyes and switch back to your native language. “Mated to a man who thought courting meant trading. What a strange thing.”
“Your fault! Dumbass!”
You grin at him. “How was that my fault? You really thought I was coming onto you that fast?”
He grumbles to himself. “Wouldnt be sup–rised. Happened before.”
You fake gasp. “Don’t tell me. Have you been trading with other mers before you met me? I’m wounded Katsuki!” You knew the answer to that, having heard him multiple times tell you that he only had eyes for you.
“Yeah. Traded with many mers. Way prettier than you.” He nibbles on your jaw, a sign of affectionate teasing. He has also told you multiple times in high dramatics that he was “mated to the prettiest being of the sea.”.
You laugh and continue the joke. “Don’t worry, I understand. I “traded” with tons of other human men too.”
He growls and runs his teeth over the mating mark. “Joke over.”
You pet his head, still grinning. “Who said I was joking?” He looks up at you, squinting at you and frowning. He can tell by the look on your face that you are lying.
He quickly switches tactics to lightly gnawing on your skin, earning squeals from the ticklish feeling. He pins you down to stop your squirming. It doesn’t stop your hysterical laughing. “Stop! That tickles! Mercy! Katsuki!”
“Say it.”
“Say what!?”
He stares at you. “Fine! Fine! I have only traded with you!”
“And?” The mer prompts, as he moves to your stomach to lightly bite it. You continue to squirm, but you know what he wants you to say.
“And….Katsuki! Im going to pee myself! And I am so happy to be mated to the strongest being of the sea!”
“And?”
“And what?!”
“You know.”
“And I love being Queen of the sea! And I’ll never turn back human!” He releases you with a grunt and you begin to pant, trying to regain your composure.
He didn’t mean to get you to say that last part, but he can’t help but feel an immense amount of joy from the words. He is afraid you’ll get sick of the life of a queen. The reassurance helps.
Once you calm down, you glare at him for torturing you. “I am going to kill you Katsuki Bakugou!”
“With those little fangs? You can try.” You pounce on him immediately and the two of you twirl in the bed. He laughs and growls playfully at you. Katsuki barely lets you win. He smiles when he feels those dull claws, compared to his, pins him against the bed. He will let you have this moment, especially after what you just said.
The poor servants were left red in the face when they passed your door, hearing the thumping, growling, and squealing coming from the King and Queens bedroom.
#bakugo katuski#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugou katuski x reader#katsuki x reader#bhna fanfiction#bhna bakugou#mha bakugo x reader#mha fanfiction#mha#fluff#mha fluff#katsuki fluff#bakugou x reader#bakugou katsuki fanfic#mer! Katsuki#King! Bakugou#mer! reader#female! reader#mha bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo imagine#bakugou katsuki#mello.writes
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
The Sailor and The Samurai - II
Mizu x Femme Shipmate/Pirate Reader
Hello lovelies! I didn't expect so many people to enjoy my last fic, but I have some time between classes to make a little sequel. Hope you enjoy!
Notes: A leanbh (uh lan-uv) means my child :), alcohol consumption, peer pressure (?)
Part I
It had been a week since the Banshee had taken sail and the crew expected to dock in Shanghai the following day. Y/n had woken up uncharacteristically early with an unexplainable feeling of anxiety. She could feel in her bones that something was wrong.
Upon getting dressed, she made he way to the stern. The winds were powerful and packed a mighty chill for the spring. She was glad to be wearing a proper coat. The girl peered out into the vast abyss, looking for potential danger. Yet to no avail, as the sky was still a deep blue and nothing could be seen in the distance except for faint outlines of waves. See and sky blended almost seamlessly.
"Good morning my dear," her father's voice rang behind her along with the sound of his heavy boots. "How come you're up so early?"
"Something's off," she told him, not removing her gaze from the distance. "I can tell."
The captain placed a firm hand on the shoulder, squeezing gently. "I feel it too, a leanbh," he said, reaching for his rosary absentmindedly. As he walked away his daughter did the same, unintentionally mirroring him and running her fingers over each blood-red bead. She repeated her silent prayers several times as she roamed the ship. Looking for danger around every corner and from each angle of the vessel.
"y/n," a voice rang out from above. It sounded like an angel but when she looked up it was no other than the latest addition to the ship: Mizu. "What's the matter?"
Y/n couldn't help but smile at him despite the distress in his voice as she climbed to join him on in the crows next. It was odd to her that he was up there, especially so early, but she set that aside once she was greeted by his beautiful blue eyes.
"Something is wrong," she told him as she sat in front of him, her legs tucked neatly to her side. The wind blew with more anger than it had on the deck, causing her hair to dance around her face in pirouettes.
"What's wrong?" the young man asked plainly.
"I don't know," she said. "But I can feel something bad is approaching us. Like there's a danger we can't see yet."
"Is that so?" Mizu asked with a small smile tugging at his lips.
"You don't believe me?" y/n said with a grin, tilting her head.
"I didn't say that," Mizu retorted. y/n rolled her eyes, her smile not faltering, as she rose to her feet. Mizu did the same, not wanting her to leave without him. She had no intentions of this regardless. She gazed upon Mizu's face, so strong yet equally soft. She leaned towards him like the moon to the earth, falling forward endlessly. Yet as the moon never reaches the earth, neither did she reach Mizu. Just behind him, golden rays began to reflect on the water.
Turning around she was greeted with the cause of her worries: a bright red sun began to paint the sky. It was only a few brush strokes, yet she knew it was the beginning of crimson sunrise.
"I need to go," Y/n told Mizu with sudden urgency, her voice serious like Mizu had never heard previously.
Y/n rushed down the crow's nest with speed and purpose. Once on the deck, she rushed to the rear of the ship. She swung open the doors to the captain's cabin with no hesitation.
"What is it, y/n?" her father asked, taken aback.
"Look at the sky," she said. The two walked out onto the deck and sure enough the red had grown larger, taking up more and more of the sky.
"We'll monitor the winds," the captain said. "If they don't settle by early afternoon we'll begin furling the sails and bunker down for the night. I pray we won't be blown off course too badly."
As the day went on the winds refused to calm down, they stirred up the water with anger, tossing the ship ferociously before even a cloud could be seen.
Yet the cloud eventually made an appearance. First, they fell over the sky like a chiffon curtain at noon, then by early evening, they fell over the sky in thick drapes. The sun was nearly blotted out completely.
Captain Cabe called for all hands on deck to secure what cargo was on the deck, furling the sails and anchoring the skip in some attempt to stay on course. Two of the largest men were tasked with escorting Fowler from the cell to a secure storage room on one of the lower decks. Rain began to fall from the heavens as if on queue.
Mizu was pulled aside by the captain with a special task.
"I want you to stay by y/n," he told him, his voice both sounding like a demand and a plea. "You are a trustworthy man, I can tell. The storm will pass, but God forbid Fowler escapes, you keep her safe."
Mizu nodded without a word and went off to look for the woman in question. She was scurrying across the deck in an attempt to void the cold rain that poured from the heavens.
"Y/n," Mizu called out for the second time that day. She saw him and took his hand without a word, pulling him close behind her as she led him to her quarters: a small room next to the captain's cabin.
"Your father has requested I stay with you until the storm is over," Mizu said plainly, though he felt his face heat at the words being said aloud.
"Truly?" y/n asked as she kicked off her boot and threw off her coat which was now soaked. Her blouse and skirt were surprisingly dry, with only some dampness at the hem of her skirt. She sat down on her cot, leaning forward.
"Are you mocking me?" Mizu asked as he sat on the chair by y/n's desk, his eyes trained on the young woman.
Y/n shook her head, telling him "I would've wanted you to stay with me regardless of what my father asked of you."
"Truly?" Mizu asked coyly.
"Why of course, good sir," Y/n said as she laid down and looked at the beams that made up her ceiling. She could feel the boat rocking, yet she knew from experience this was only the beginning. She only prayed the doors to her bookshelf wouldn't swing open like last time. A strong wave hit the vessel, causing Mizu's chair to slide a few inches.
"Is this normal?" Mizu asked, her voice no longer playful.
"Pretty normal," y/n replied nonchalantly. "Judging by the winds it will get worse before it gets better." The boat shook again, this time throwing Mizu off of the chair and y/n off of her cot. Both of them giggled as they came to their feet, only to nearly be thrown back onto the floor. Mizu grabbed y/n gently by the waist, afraid she might fall.
"How do you normally pass the time during storms?" Mizu asked. A sudden glee lit up y/n's face.
"I thought you'd never ask," she said, removing herself from Mizu's grasp to dig through a chest. It was filled mostly with clothing, yet at the bottom a promising clear bottle. "Behold!"
"What's that?"
"Vodka," she explained proudly, taking a seat on the floor. She patted the ground next to her, beckoning Mizu to join her. "It's like sake, but ... different."
Y/n popped the cap and took a long swig from the bottle, then offered it to her companion. He eyed it suspiciously, before taking an equally long sip. She raised her eyebrow in anticipation of his response. At first, it tasted of nothing, then a sudden burn scalded the back of his throat.
"You drink this?" he asked. "For fun?"
"A few more sips and I promise it'll be fun." The sailor took the bottle from his hand and threw back another gulp. Then two more. A trail of the clear liquid ran down her chin, which she wiped away. She handed the bottle back to the samurai. No words needed to be exchanged to signal that this was now a matter of pride. Mizu took the bottle, taking just as man sip as she had, but with a pause between each as though he was questioning everything. y/n giggled at his expressions.
"It's not that bad," she said, taking the bottle back and corking it again. With great effort, the bottle was returned to the chest. She nearly stumbled as she attempted to sit once again. It was impossible to tell whether it was the alcohol or the state of the rocking ship that caused this. Regardless, Mizu gently held onto her waist as she sat down once again, this time much closer to each other. Y/n looked over at her new friend's face, her lids heavy as the alcohol took its course.
"You're so beautiful Mizu, did you know that?" The man didn't know whether to laugh or be flattered by her drunken affection.
"Nowhere as beautiful as you, y/n," he retorted. He just then noticed that his hands were still around her. Y/n raised her hand to gently cupped his face, gently stroking his cheek with her thumb. She was fully aware that her sober self would never do such a thing, but she couldn't stop herself. There it was again, that force that brought her to Mizu, drawing her in. Then, a sudden realization hit her like an earthquake. She was astonished she hadn't noticed it sooner.
"You're far too beautiful to be a man," she said. "Too kind, too gentle, as well. No man would be satisfied with simply holding me in his arms. He would try to claw at me and undress me."
Mizu's eyes grew wide. She'd never been outed so quickly, so unprompted. She thought she had mastered the appearance of a man, yet hadn't mastered their cruelty. Mizu, dumbfounded by y/n's observation, opened her mouth to speak yet no words could exit her lips. Y/n gently placed a finger across the blue-eyed woman's lips.
"You need not speak," the sailor spoke, her voice more sincere than Mizu had heard before. Y/n reached behind the woman's head, untying her hair, which fell down her shoulders like black silk. With her hair untied, it was now plain as day: the samurai she had grown to admire so this past week was indeed a woman. Y/n repeated her question: "You're beautiful, Mizu, did you know that?"
A wide smile fell upon Mizu's face. She now cupped y/n face, peering into her eyes. There was a safety in them that she hadn't seen in a long time. Without uttering another word, the two women finally gave in to their gravitational pull. Their lips met in a powerful collision of passion, their bodies melding into one. They became a supernova of desire.
#reader insert#mizu x you#mizu x reader#bes mizu#bes#mizu blue eye samurai#mizu#mizu x y/n#blue eye samurai x you#blue eye samurai x reader#blue eye samurai fanfic#blue eye samurai#bes x reader#mizu bes
91 notes
·
View notes
Note
I'm not sure if you're still accepting requests so if you aren't, you can ignore this one!
Hiccup x reader where they've been arranged since they were teens and they try to navigate through their arrangement
Counting Coins
Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Reader
Words: 28,025
On one cold morning, a small Chief’s son and merchant child are arranged to be wed. Now, Hiccup Haddock is your fiance and you his. Despite your different walks of life, you find you come together quite nicely.
Tags: Gender Neutral/Intended Female, reunions, arranged marriage, half-fill, fluff, MATURE CONTENT, unedited
You furrowed your brows, curling your hands around the cloak of the master of this dock, his large form towering over your small one, thicker than you’d ever seen before and well muscled, though most muscles were hidden under his clothing, clean and darned for the occasion.
His hair was dark and his helmet large, horns seeming much too wide for his helmet, a stern man with a face hard set, yet he was gentle with you, and fond, despite your only recent meeting.
He seemed incredibly imposing, though it was a small comfort to have him on your side in front of you, acting as a shield. An in-between, a presenter for you though you knew this would be your first and last meeting.
Your white child’s robes teased the soles of your boots, fine and woven in silks you’d never had the privilege of touching before, belonging to a caliber much higher than your class. You knew after this you might not ever see those clothes again, embroidered and sewn delicately in a way you wanted to keep with ferocity.
Yet they were thin, not full enough to keep the chill from rushing up your sleeves in this early, biting morning.
Your nose was certainly sharp with cold bite, and you could feel the buzz of frost on each and every one of your limbs as if you had just been woken up for early travel, when things were dark and silent and dewy with spray.
With one eye, the other buried into rough fabrics, you examined enviously the boy before you, just as small and clad in a green tunic and a vest that was clearly new, dark and fluffy and evenly brushed out.
He must have been the same age, boots much too large for his stature. He was ruffled and slightly messy in other ways.
It looked like he wasn’t boat-steady yet, face ashy and ill.
They clearly had not come dressed to impress, donned in clothes that must have been casual, but they were fine all the same, sewn with a level of care and at quality that you’d grab for if left unattended, perhaps, on someone’s rickety ship table for feeling and keeping.
You had been told and taught carefully that the way people presented themselves communicated their intentions and the amount of respect one had for the other, especially in meetings for barter. You were not very good at telling yet what meant what, though you knew they must not like you very much at all.
Still, they didn’t want this boy. Who was he, to be brushed off onto the merchant class?
A large hand, made for crushings and trader-repelling, encouraged him forward, causing him to stumble before he came to a hard stop in front of you, twisting his hands together and looking at you with no small amount of fear and apprehension.
“Go on, Hiccup,” The king suggested, speaking in tones you were sure made the world rumble.
The man -the Chief, the king, the lord, the leader- of their community was large. Larger than the dock master, larger than anything you’d ever seen. His head would bump into the roof of your vessel, which seemed already so large to you.
He looked around with eyes that weren’t completely closed, brows not fully furrowed, still open to a degree that spoke of a lenient mind, yet his stance was critical and you knew he looked upon the others with no kind eye.
He scared you.
Behind them, their boat, a sturdy, well taken-care-of thing, sort of small yet painted in tasteful, neutral tones, bobbed and floated all the way at the end of the dock, a small bridge thrown down so that they could make a safe entrance onto this neutral moor from their vessel.
You didn’t even know his name.
All his father wanted was a safe future for him, at least, as he had said.
He had, apparently, a few very useful blacksmithing skills, or at least that was the plan, to teach him some useful trade, so as to ship him off overseas to another island or on to your boat where he wouldn’t be as much of a burden.
So his father bartered for your hand.
You sniffed, bridging up a clumsy hand, fingers grasping at your sleeve, to rub at your nose with worry and apprehension.
You were a no-good kid -in his eyes, you must have been- from the merchant class, though you’d been told you were well. He couldn’t even get someone from a place with a chiefdom.
You were sure his father was sorely disappointed. You were a migratory sort, after all. Your lot was a backstabbing kind.
You were under no delusions of grandeur and fine materials and princess-hood, you’d been told very clearly what was about to happen. The Hooligans were a rough bunch. They weren't keen on outsiders, and it had already been made clear that the point of the barter was to get something away rather than to bring someone in.
You didn’t know of any deeper meanings behind things like marriage, but you recognized a barter when you saw one; the exchange of meat for coin, bear fur for deer pelt, skull for tendon and scale and a few things extra, come up with in the time it took to get from place to place.
It was just that this time, you were the barter. No one had ever said anything, but you’d come to know it between actions and hesitant looks, apprehensive as if sharing dark secrets for a trade they weren’t certain you’d be involved, speaking of missing crew members, loot, sabotage and subterfuge, hiding things in whispers too valuable to be spared for the opposition, the way the best furs were kept in locked chest under ship floorboards, hidden from the children and yet seen by you all the same.
The same way the nice spices were held for lords and kings and chiefs all of the same kind, barred for use from the common folk, their origin a secret only a few in your migratory hodge-podge of a group knew and guarded from each other with lies and violence and suspicious eyes, searched for on single-man boats by lantern light far away from the prying gazes of your other kinsmen.
You were the ‘other,’ and it was that that told you that this time, you were the barter. The sacrificial lamb. You were old enough to understand that, at four winters old.
You wished you were on this dock, watching one of the others depart in a small boat instead of nearly alone in the cold and mist, something that acted as more of an obstruction than the preclude to a mystery or a passive tool, a plain cloak to drift through instead of a phenomena that acted as a cage around an arena, keeping everything else invisible to your eye except for the people in front of you.
You shivered.
The small boy stumbled forwards again, very reluctantly, leaning back as if he meant to stumble back, searching for a ways away.
His eyes were incredibly wide, trained on you the whole time as his father turned his attention away, muttering in low, important tones with the dock master.
“Hi,” The small boy tried shily. He looked very much as if he was about to cry, which did you no favors, emotion building at the corner of your lids.
“...Hi,” You whispered back, much quieter, creeping slightly further behind the dockmaster, who didn’t spare you much but a vaguely concerned glance, large, black brows furrowing as you tried to bury yourself in front of his puffy fur cloak and behind one large, trousered leg.
You should introduce yourself. You weren’t sure what he wanted, but you knew the still folk weren’t very fond of what you did. Would do.
“We… travel,” You mumbled clumsily, “A lot.”
The boy furrowed his brows, deterred, looking back to his father with an unsure, wobbly frown, though the large man paid him no mind.
He looked as if he would cry even more now, especially at the idea that he might be ousted, if what he knew of the situation went that far. With petty malice, you hoped they kicked him out from his home, yet he didn’t want him to be sent away for tiny things with your strange folk, so then maybe he would not want to come with you at all.
Good.
You sniffed then, just blinking, determined, giving him a defiant look even as you scooted further behind the dock master, tiny, clenched hands shivering.
The boy was trying his darndest to hold it in, fists clenched, eyes watery.
Your own expression was wobbly, but you were determined, face tilted slightly downwards with your refusal and will to stay silent.
There wasn’t so much a negotiation as a confirmation, a presentation of goods yet deep, silent, rumbled conversation went on for what seemed like ever.
If he cried, things would certainly be over. It had to be him. You willed that he do it first.
Time felt like more time, long and drawn and moments felt like eternities, forcing you to take in each and every bit that had been long drawn out. Something in the wind must have made it so.
You didn’t like it. Land made you unsteady, with so many things and legends and magic and still age, unflowing and stationary in all the ways your home was not.
It was new territory in a way that made you uneasy.
Eventually, your determined attention was brought away and your hands hid back into the confines of coated fur.
You drifted.
Granules of wood, the large cracks beneath your feet, old, dark, deepish gray. The swirling, moving water under your feet, bobbing, pulling, opaque, foamed, murky. The thin brush of fur tickly at your feet, the wind smoothing by your neck. Something tantalizing, all-consuming yet somewhat faint drawing you forwards.
You closed your eyes, body traveling to follow the scent, tilting forwards. It was something sweet and smooth and altogether tempting, sort of milky and dark.
You didn’t think scents could leave trails, but this, too you, was so strong.
You opened your eyes with a flutter to find that the boy across had done something in a much similar manner. You both had sniffed the air.
You looked at him with curious, vying eyes. It seemed as if you two had something in common after all.
You let go of the dockmaster’s cloak, sure not to let your hands shake, though you didn’t yet step free of his shadow, still close enough to feel tufts from his ensemble brush across your cheek.
You’d heard from some of the others of the dragons lurking in the mist and smog, deep in the wilds. If you followed the scent, however, you’d surely be fine. You were sure there was nothing strong enough to blow it away, not here and now when everything was quiet and still, even absent of the usual chirping of bugs and smaller such things.
You weren’t as familiar with land, most of your life spent on Boat. Though should the worst things come to worst, you’d follow the moss and whispers of fairies and any brooke you could find until you were back on your home boat, floating along the docks, tied secure and stationed by many others of your ilk. Like in the stories. Or maybe you’d follow the sound of rumbling voices, deep and sound, until you were once again above the water.
You sobbed, where you’d been thrown back, your arms stinging with raw scrapes and soreness, back stiff with the fallen feel of many rocks and a burn that spoke of peeled skin, screaming in a way that rang, gripping tightly onto fabric, though whether it was yours or his you couldn’t tell.
His nails in your arms, punching through fabric, said many things as you gripped each other tightly, half curled in on each other, tears and snot streaming furiously down his face and yours, told of and shared through the drag of his crying voice and the thickness of his frantic panting.
Thin, many, many teeth- staring into a large maw, thick mucus spraying, face split monstrously by three jaws and a grotesque, dripping tongue, green and deep in a sparsely wooded craig area. Two more visible behind.
You choked out another wet cry as the monstrous creature screamed, it’s aggressive voice causing you to wail louder. It had lured you.
You were good as dead.
You hated chocolate.
The scene -the reason why- as you remembered it, not that you let yourself, was cold and misty and told in flashes, washed with distance and a sense of levity only the most severe memories ever received.
A rushing fist, a quick yank, It was something you recalled mostly on cold nights under heavy blankets.
It hadn’t been too long ago.
Your face screwed up at the open box below, it’s gifter already busy off rifling for other things.
It was your second meeting at another dock, a half-way point, not that you had a still place to have a way from.
There was a forge here. His intent was to show off how he was faring in the forge, most likely -he said how he had something and he must show it to you in a forge.
It was his scene now, perhaps,and he was trying to impress by telling of how he was learning. By some way the Snaptrapper attack had had a weird effect on his brain.
You turned away from the small, open box in multiple small steps, wrapped and pulled open for you clumsily by the same boyish hands that offered them to you. Maybe you could sell it later -you couldn’t possibly give it away, not when it was something so valuable- yet you couldn’t eat it either, a precious thing you yearned to keep yet sent fear prickling down your spine.
Below you, who you looked down on from your high position on your mount was your future fiance -or current, you hadn’t yet gotten enough details to understand- who looked mini from your perch.
It was almost silly how he hung over the side of the open chest, the top half of his body hanging down into the barrel of it as he rifled around, the one thing he was looking for skidding across the bottom as he grabbed for it, scratching hand sounds muffled to your ears along with the sounds knocking against wooden walls.
You wrung your hands nervously, fingers and palms getting caught on newly cleaned sleeves, one of your older clothes pieces.
Certainly you’d never seen that nice robe ever again. It was never meant to be kept, but you’d wanted to know what there was to do with it, now that it was ripped and mud-dirtied and mussed, if it had been made to sell in some form as it had been taken away from you.
You climbed down from the height, sitting down on the chair and stretching your legs towards the stone floor of the foreign forge with a light strained noise made in the back of your throat, hands placed carefully flat, fingers together against the wood of the chair behind you.
You reached out your booted toes, stretching your legs delicately until you felt they were stretched as far as they could go, until the drop was much less high than it was before, a distance you found to be much more manageable for you to drop down.
You patted the bottoms of your boots lightly on the floor as you settled as if to clear the dust from them, one after the other, lifting your knees up a respectable height before moving them slowly back down, though it was with not enough force to do more than make a quiet pat.
You used your hands to brush off the leg-covering length of your tunic, sort of scratchy and worn and holey by one of the sleeves, just the way you’d been taught and shown.
You looked back up carefully, brows furrowed upwards with slight worry to meet a pair of large, intent eyes, the sort you likened to a big pool of water but green and murky as your to-be husband held out a small knife by the handle with clumsy child’s hands.
“It’s for you,” His voice wobbled as he said it, light with hope and nerves.
You stared at it for a long, long moment, unsure of what to do, hand half stretched out, hovering above it. Were you supposed to pick it up?
The blade was sort of triangle shaped, wobbly and wrenched and very, very dented along the side, flat ends of the blade offset in some places where hammer-sized circles lay flat at slightly the wrong angle like lumps on the side of the face of a young shiphand.
He had found you the biggest chest to bring it in, even if it’s contents were small. He’d said so, which was very flattering.
“It’s cool,” He insisted, voice wavering with nerves.
He thought it was cool
He looked at you intently.
He… wanted to make you happy
You supposed it was your job to make him happy too, and to make him happy, his gifts would have to make you happy. So perhaps you would. Would tell him he was doing a good job.
But how were you supposed to receive gifts? No one had ever told you that before.
Though you’d learned much first and second hand, especially for your age on your boat, if words were also a part of trade, you’d not yet been versed. Not truly.
“Okay,” You picked it up unsurely with pinched fingers, holding it by one dented blade end, “Thank you. I like it a lot.”
You were careful to speak nice, in your bartering voice, separate from your normal seafaring drawl.
The boy seemed to preen at that, putting his hand by his chest slightly and giving you a grin so wide he had to be faking some of it. Not his enthusiasm, but in his efforts to communicate it, to make his joy seem super clear to you.
You said it to yourself in guesses in your mind, though you felt there was a certain truth to it as it was; there was a level of performance in success.
You offered him a tiny smile back, holding the small knife close to your chest with both your hands by its equally uneven handle, blade part pointed down.
With your troope you traveled, past and through fjords with waters a beautiful, clear turquoise that seemed to speak deep into your soul, full enough to carry your boat yet shallow enough that you were sure you could stand at the bottom. Fresh enough to make you wonder what sailors needed stories of sirens for, when the water was entrancing and glittering enough to pull you in all on its own.
Mountains lined by blankets and blankets of greenery, so full and lush it’s color seemed nearly turquoise, saturated and unspotted to a fantastical degree.
You’d passed by a beach with sand the color of warm, red rust, a deep maroon you wished to scoop up and bottle and hold dear to you for the rest of your lifetime.
Yet, perhaps its ephemeral nature was what made it all the more valuable, more novel as it was passed from you to another, a fractured experience, the only whole copy laying in your memory, precious and aged as the finest of wines.
Of course you passed the small bottle, as you had to, stopped with a small cork, into the hands of another, who stood anxiously on the dock in front.
When you’d grabbed his hand earlier, he’d seemed to deflate with relief.
He loosened even more, then.
Your feet shuffled hollowly against the damp wood below. This dock might need repairing soon, decking wearing and decaying, crusted in parts with sour fish and clinging barnacles along what parts of the poles you could see through cracks.
“I’ve gotten this for you,” You said, adjusting your cloaked poncho with one hand, tattered and tasseled and wrapped around your shoulders, held together by dirty stitches.
Beneath that you wore slightly nicer clothes, though still darned by the hardships of your travels, much lighter than you would have preferred had you been given the resources to prepare yourself for your next meeting.
“Thank you,” His voice was still light, then. It crackled with the idea that it might yet grow deeper, though you hadn’t high hopes.
The son of the Chief took the vial from your hands. Twelve winters you’d lived, and thirteen had he. You were younger than him yet much wiser.
The exchange of gifts was a common thing between the two of you, since you had been engaged all those years ago, though you’d never been away for so long, so some uncertainty was to be expected.
A whole half of a season of the two that existed in the Norse calendar.
Your to-be husband’s peoples had settled closer in location to the Gaelic and Romans than their original homeland. You were sure they’d long lost knowledge of where they’d come from, and whether there was land or life outside of the archipelago, which was just as well.
When younger, you visited frequently, every month, every few weeks. All meetings arranged, atmosphere heady and thick with tense expectation, and yet you could tell he grew fond of you all the same. It was less often now, the meeting- but most of the knowing you shared still stayed, albeit you were much more distant now.
So, you’d met plenty, yet your tie kept you stuck closer to the archipelago.
With the synchronized movements of two teens who knew, you both grabbed hands, one more nervous than the other.
Without speaking, you walked hand-in-hand across the docks and towards the precarious, which lead to the cliffs cradling your to-be’s bustling wen in its embrace, imposing ramps held up by thick timbre and built outwards rather than carved in.
The docks were reasonably crowded, though the patrons there lie more in uniform than not, in a typical, respectful fashion.
You noticed the way the others of your age and not left out the two of you, you more by nature and expectation as an outsider, an individual of distrust and Hiccup as something else you weren’t privy to, perhaps in part because of your association.
They snickered at him like the chittering of wily nymphs in wide, foggy mists; a thin boy with straw hair, long at the ends, top hidden by a shallow helmet. Another boy, thicker with large elbows and a square, slightly displaced jaw.
You had been here too often not to notice.
Your fiance- he looked at you as if you were holy, light reflecting off of his eyes, off the pupils and the neutral green iris in a way that made them look as if they glittered just as they had before your most recent departure from the Archipelago.
He looked at you with wonder as well, which was perhaps your fault; filling his head with tales of waves larger than Berk was tall and rumbles in the sea of things that left everyone on board still, quiet and unmoving as you waited for ancient things to pass and return to slumber.
You’d spent hours explaining the difference between beautiful danger and danger-like beauty, how so many mystical things could be lost in something as uniform as the ocean. True magic existed only after long periods of wait.
“Well…”
Your fiance was proud to share his own lively exploits, a life of action and battle and escape from ferocious beasts, blood feuds and quickly made inventions. You were unfamiliar with land and he fed off that, speaking and embellishing with the hopes to tell you something that you might find impressive, hoping that might somehow reflect back on him.
It was obvious by his actions- the way he postured and when he would and wouldn’t look you in the eye, caring in a way you were mystified by, the origin of such affection alien to you yet welcomed all the same even in spite of its impropriety.
He was less nauseated by the waters now and he spent more time aboard ships as a watcher, learner and sometimes helper, a privilege not many were afforded, the last part going unsaid as you were sure any son of a shiphand would have been long since used to the seas.
That was of the most minor importance, however. You were never too old to earn your sea legs. His efforts, instructed or not, were still very much appreciated.
You too would perform well by both your own want and volition.
You chose to bump his shoulder with your own as you slowed, closer now to the village than the docks.
Closeness was expected from an engaged couple.
You were set by the waving grass near the upper cliffs, not so close to the edge as to merit worry over crumbling rock yet not so far that the seas just below were obscured to you.
A short row of trees lined your way to the village kingdom, a thin, sparse mimicry of the forest beyond the bridge on the other side of the island, no doubt soon to be cut down and used for woodstock.
A rock protruded from the ground next to another just by it, both in a way that put you by the sea, closer to the cliff’s edge than away towards the treeline as you leaned against it.
Your fiance did the same.
Hiccup was nervous again.
As you settled, you eyed a pouch by his hip, the majority of it concealed by the fur of his coat yet spotted by you all the same as you made your way up the dock ramps.
You’d expected it, or at least something of a similar sort.
You’d come with a purpose, your visit in part an inspection.
The others, they would swarm the markets and try to leech off slain dragon skin and hide and scale. You had another matter, a pointed one, one that you were very well expected to tend to with haste and heavy judgment.
This was far from the aimless sort of company shared by the you from months ago, indulged in by your fiance. Your life was a product you had to sell, you were pointedly aware, yet only one part of the agreed upon exchange.
Of course, if he was to one day join you as a craftsman on the water, it was of the utmost importance that you make sure he could, in fact, make things.
“I’ve-I’ve got something,” Hiccup started hesitantly, shoulders hunched.
He was told to show and present it to you- He must have been, because his demeanor was tamed, schooled yet restless as if he expected a test by which he was afraid he might be found lacking.
It was obvious earlier by the twitchiness of his hands and the sweat beading on his clenched palms as he grabbed onto your own. It was obvious now in the way he still wouldn’t look you in the eye.
“You do?” You asked, feigning surprise and a careless indifference. It was supposed to convey comfort and to lessen the pressure of expectation.
“You can keep it, if you want- I-” Hiccup tried, appealing to you the best he could before cutting himself off, pulling open the pouch and, very carefully, by the blade this time, handing you the shining handle of a sharp knife.
You were reminded sharply yet not unexpectedly of a time when you were kids and he handed you something of a similar nature, small and dull and bent out of shape.
It was nostalgic.
You looked down, grabbing it carefully, rubbing over the only unmarred -uncarved, you should say- bits of the knife with a soft thumb, feeling nothing but round surface.
It appeared he was a good craftsman, the hand smooth and varnished, notches and designs carved into both the wooden handle and the blade. The woodwork was of the most importance. His access to a forge would be naught overseas.
What interested you the most were his mistakes. Your hands were well trained, and through experience and teaching, you’d learned it was the smallest of things that could make or break a sale.
If there were too many resources expended on things of lowest quality, it would mean space lost bringing trade from one place to another. These were things that needed to be accounted for to the very last detail when you were traveling on a ship as packed as yours for so far a distance. If they were not, then you were better off dead than above the waves.
There was still a slight number of scratches and bumps in places like corners and on the handle, smudged by soot in the shape of fingerprints that told of inexperience and a slightly clumsy, novice hand, and yet his progress spoke more- he was average, for his age. Unpracticed in the art yet familiar with the semantics, skills more geared towards practicalities than fancy.
You could not glean the full scope of his abilities from just a knife, that was true, but this was good enough.
It would serve you and everyone else just fine. In fact, it was much nicer than anything you’d been allowed to touch in a while.
You glanced back up at him without lifting your head.
Hiccup’s nerves seemed to grow more as he waited for your response, hands wringing, expression pinched as if he was about to build up a sweat, sooted hair seeming to wilt with him.
The poor boy was sweating.
You stood straight, letting the knife fall to your side, hooking it onto your belt as you reached for his hand.
He seemed to relax.
“It’s nice,” You said simply, yet with an abundance of appreciation.
Yet you didn’t relax, as your part wasn’t yet over. This was something you couldn’t sugarcoat, as it came with a catch. Many catches, for him. Inevitable ones, negotiations having long since been made on his behalf, not many having to do with accommodations.
How to bring forth the topic, though, was the question.
“Are there any things to know? Things I… should know?” Hiccup shuffled his boot against the dirt, “About trust and… And other things?”
Hiccup spoke haltingly, as if he’d realized he’d messed up very quickly and yet had been too far along his thoughts to stop at any appropriate time.
You hummed questioningly, though you were certain; It seems your intrepid fiance had beaten you to the punch. You chose to take no offense.
He had been well prepared for this conversation, it seemed. Not in the ways that would make life easier for him, but in the ways you supposed his father would find relevant.
“I mean… Responsibilities?”
“Trust isn’t important beyond what’s needed to be able to make a trade,” You shrugged, “The only responsibility you’d have are the ones involving your goods. There is no home besides the one you make over the sea.”
Your. Not our. The sharing of assets was something you were not yet decided on or old enough to try, but one day you supposed it would be a must.
“No treaties. No Vikings. No ties. Just travel,” You murmured, placing both of your hands over his, “You’re my only tie.”
“Honesty?” He said, referring to the word in a way that, for the second time, made you think he’d been over this with someone else before, face tilted and eyes wide in a way that conveyed insecurity in the face of danger, “I heard… the others, from your group- they’re going to try and scam some of the villagers out of their coin?”
That certainly must have come from his own words and his own heart.
You still did not take offense.
You pulled your hands slowly back to yourself as you leaned back and pondered, leaving shaking, softer knuckles behind.
The other villagers here were very clearly disgruntled at having to honor the dishonorable. It would be upsetting for him to know that one day he might have to face the same scorn, regardless of whether or not he was truly a liar.
Yours was not at all the fighting sort, however you were silver in other ways, unlike the merchants they typically chose and cherrypicked and allowed passage onto their shores.
You were sure his clansmen already believed him to be so. He was bright and flighty and still and they were not kind. Neither were your folk, in many other ways. Both, you knew, were cautious of each other, your ilk more proactive with words, wielding phrases that bit and knives to stomachs.
You understood him, still as the wind brushed past you from the sea, tangy with the smell of salt, reminding your tongue of the taste of it as it went breezing through and past your poncho.
There was safety in it. A desire to protect oneself from the perceived. From the outside. It was just that your inside was much smaller. It forced you to look outwards more often than not, and perhaps that was what intimidated Hiccup so much.
However, If Stoick the Vast believed being on a boat was safer than being on Berk, he was wrong. Or perhaps right, but only in the most bare sense. If he kept to himself, his son should be fine. Even if you didn’t do the same, holding deep trade secrets or vyied-after product.
People came and went quickly.
It was a quick and daring life, not always long if you were on the front lines, but he’d live a long while, well into old age at least as his father most likely intended.
“It’s nothing I have to do with… but it’s something I will have to do one day,” You said bluntly, yet your voice was still soft, “Maybe.”
There was no shake to his voice, though you could hear caution, “Will I have to?”
You murmured sounds nonsensically into the air, raising a skeptical brow, feeling the sharp, cold, flat surface of a rock press against your backside as you leaned further back.
That seemed to be enough of an answer for him.
“I guess I’ll have to man up, huh?”
You recalled a child’s wandering, more whispers of him not being man enough to drop the fool you were, rashly and rowdily and suddenly. It would be quite easy to be rid of you, though you didn’t care much at all what he did, just so long as you could be honest by the trade.
“You’ll be a craftsman. That’s plenty man enough- very useful, the most over the sea,” You were familiar with his propensity to get sick over the water, the one he’d had when you were young kids that made fishing nigh impossible and travel incredibly difficult. You hoped he’d grown out of that, despite his assuring words.
You nodded to yourself unsurely, “That’s the finest advice I can give you now.”
By the twisting laws of word, structure and sense you could say it wasn’t necessarily advice. It didn’t make much sense for it to be.
There was better advice out in the world. The kind that inspired the innovative, the kind that asked the bright minded to twist convention and birthed new processes and brought blessings into the world. He was probably better off taking that instead.
You told him so.
“All you’ll need to know to do with a knife is stab, anyhow. Some skinning, I suppose. How to gut a fish,” You tilted your head to the side, eyes wandering slightly, irises briefly bobbing towards a cawing sea bird, brave to be out in reptilian-infested skies, though you knew the day was safe. Mostly, “Guard your coin, sleep tight.”
“Coin?” Hiccup asked, sitting up straighter.
You gazed back at him plainly, giving him a simple nod.
Wealth came and went. You learned to hide it, guard it preciously.
Another thing you told him. The first part, anyhow. The second you kept to yourself. You’d done enough frightening off recently.
“This is- my own thing, for you, then,” Hiccup suggested, rifling again in that small pouch of his, grasping in a way that poked against the sides of fabric walls, grasping frustratedly for something it took him much too long to touch, his face tilted down with a mildly disgruntled expression on his face.
He pulled first something that glinted and went back in for something else, pinching fabric and dropping things back into the pouch when he meant not to, fingernails too blunt to get a good grip.
It was a few moments longer and a few light, frustrated grunts from him, until you had been bestowed upon something small and hand-warmed and cool in what you could feel in a way you likened to patches, off-putting slightly yet not unwelcome to you.
You rolled it from your palm to a place pinched between your fingers with a smooth if not uncomfortable and odd-looking action, too familiar with the act of handling coins despite their fleeting nature.
There was a scratch in the corner, though despite that the coin was clean to an average degree and smooth on one side in a way that made you think someone had spent a long time rubbing at its face with their thumb, perhaps, or another finger.
It was dull with the oils from the hand, yet it wasn’t so thick, mostly dull in places hard to reach, like the corners where runes had been largely and blocking inscribed, telling you it had been a while since it had left the hands of the person that had done the rubbing and it had been cleaned at least once.
You’d stopped paying attention to your surroundings, slightly craning your neck down and bringing your hand up to look closer at the coin in a way that felt uncharacteristic as your attentions were brought to other things, your calm demeanor returning you back to an even calmer state.
Already his hands were lifted, hovering by your neck in a way that felt heavy, moving with jerky hesitance.
His clenched fingers brushed past your ear in a way that didn’t touch but made you sense, heat passing lesser heat as he dropped a thick, wide twine cord down the rest of the way to your shoulders, it pulling slightly taut against the back of your neck and it was pulled forwards by the light weight near the front of it.
You looked down in a way that made your chin touch your neck and the back of your nap stretch, eyes straining down.
There, by your chest lay a smaller pouch -one where he was probably supposed to hold the coin, yet didn’t in a fashion that was very typical for a boy from your peer group- one he hung around your neck.
“For the advice,” Hiccup suggested awkwardly.
You had stood there in puzzled silence for a while.
Eventually, you reached a time to part or leave, just briefly, temporarily separating perhaps as you made your way off, back towards civilization.
First, though, you looked towards your to-be husband.
He’d leaned closer just a moment before, and now he seemed hesitant, for obvious reasons.
The one time you had seen a rodent entrapped by a snare, suffocating and infected, neck bloating in a way that said it had been left out, injured, for days? It was a miracle it had survived so long, twitching and antsy and suffering- it was also inedible.
Hiccup looked like that.
Lips pursed slightly, not in a noutwards manner, more resembling a line, thought his intentions were clear, face red as if he’d been holding his breath for a while -he had been- eyes twitching even as they remained lidded, stressed like a string about to snap.
-Of course, you’d done nothing of the sort before. You would do nothing improper. Nothing to jeopardize your deal. Not when it’d done so much- not yet, but.
It would go against a given, unspoken contract, the expectation things proceeded slowly, as they should in a way that was socially appropriate for teens your age. Before, it had. But maybe not… Now.
You’d not have much time left, though you were too… Dazed, perhaps. Not in a rush, carefully considering everything and nothing in the few long yet away-slipping seconds it took for you to make your decision.
His twitching eyes were slowly opening, pupils darting with slight humiliation and hesitance, perhaps, hoping you hadn’t noticed somehow.
You nearly had the desire to pretend you hadn’t- to have mercy on him.
You took pity on him and moved closer. You would do nothing more than this.
A press on the cheek. Then something simple. A peck on the lips.
For the coin, You decided.
Later, you could explain what went on- the ins and outs and the other complicated social politics involving your merchants and the sort of ins and outs he’d need to be living with them. You did. You had to.
Even later in the day, after a brief stint on the water with the fishermen, you’d witness your first dragon raid. Your fiance seemed to be a bit too into the violence. That was fine.
He was a Viking- and as such, you decided it was expected.
Once again you found yourself on Berk’s docks.
After long travels and a few years, you’d reentered the Archipelago to rumors of a mighty dragon tamer and a blossoming romance, which seemed to indicate for you some trouble brewing on the horizon, luring you back towards Berk.
The last you heard, he’d found another, the news broken by an envoy. Though you didn't particularly hold faith in those heavy words, you still listened, and waited for more. At a gainly pace, you’d made your way across the oceans, stopping appropriately when trade dictated. However, a budding curiosity, unstifled, grew in your chest.
You’d seen a desert though you’d had not enough time to make the Great Journey across to the other side, where spices and silks were in more abundance and half your caravan had been replaced with another sort as some grew too old to do anything but settle, others splitting off to join other groups and travel new routes.
They had been replaced all at once after a long period of dwindling by a particularly rough band of folks, wielding knives with blades skillfully curved as a snake moving through sand.
Most were from way down south, ones who had chosen to migrate away from their cities, in part perhaps due to some terrible, inescapable treachery. There were some from the islands around the archipelago, too. You were wary of them, though their kind was not a new one to you, no different from the worst of the few short-lasting you’d grown up with and had known before.
You had returned from your travels with dangling gold bangles and coins attached to skirts locked away in a trunk seep in the ship for the wily patrons on Knaff or the auctioneers in the small Ice fortress up by the Northlands, something to exchange for their colorful furs which would surely be well received by the Romans.
Another trip by the main continent blessed you with more colorful clothes and fabrics and silks and, with the excess of inventory and the accidental destruction and loss of a great number of old, darned clothes over your travels, your bunch was able to donn nicer clothes, a league of distance from the tattered grays and the muddy, green-ish sand color you were used to.
The traumatizing child incident still dictated that you hated chocolate, or whatever sweet could be made up in its likeness, but you’d brought back something similar anyways.
You hoped that a few of the Northmen would stay, settling for their homeland and satisfied by the bragging rights bestowed upon them by their long journey and their trade, now that they’d had it up to their heads and shriveled hearts in travel and experience. Not that that experience tended to stick, as you and your more sane shipmates mumbled back and forth to each other. Some people were too hard-headed to truly take in any lessons or worldly knowledge.
You loathed that they were able to share in your joy and luck, also dressed in fabrics of multiple colors.
You also hoped they would not cause some sort of accidental betrayal on your part as they swindled and stole, so that your standing with your fiance would not be sabotaged nor your promised exchange mishandled somehow in any way worse than it already had been, forcing you to shed allegiances where they mustn’t be shed
You would have to keep an eye on them if not warned the inhabitants of Berk off all of them altogether.
As you’d docked, you’d seen… Dragons. You tried not to show you apprehensiveness, stepping out with surety as the locals around you moved casually, talking freely and without that usual, aggressive weight.
Brightly colored tails curled and lashed as large bodies crept just out of view, colorful spots flapping through the sky like carefree birds. The atmosphere here was so much lighter in a way that must have run as deep as Berk’s culture and altered way of life. You could feel it.
The docks were bustling this time, villagers moving freely along the wide dock floor, clearly newly repaired and well taken care of, receiving you better than they ever had before. The new goods probably helped some, too. You’d never come to Berk with such a boon before.
You hoped your fiance hadn’t put in a good word for you. It would be a shame if it all went to waste, ruining his credibility as you were sure your new group’s half would ruin yours.
You heard the names of a Sven, a Mjolnir, an Agnarr, a Thora all before you’d seen him.
You weren’t sure what you expected. Would he be taller, more built so as to match his reputation, or would it proceed him? It ended up being neither.
Rays beat down on your covered shoulders in a way that made the skin just above flesh feel like a hot rock.
The sun was warm and heady in a pressing manner, though not incredibly so, not the way it was, exhausting and persistently dry as it was further down south, nor as it was over the oceans, on days you feared you’d run out of fresh water before you could cool and boil a new batch of buckets.
It took a moment, but through the crowd, as your shipmates siphoned out in pairs of twos with chests and sly words, you spotted him.
Two large, heavy shoulders reaching a few heads above his own parted to reveal Hiccup.
Immediately, to you, the change in dynamic was obvious, like some switch being pressed, flicked and another mechanism- a snare trap, perhaps, or something simpler- flung.
Your intrepid fiance now seemed to embody the title completely, adapting to his position as the Hope and Heir- at least, as you said it.
You presumed that, with his success, after this moment, you would no longer be expected to sweep him away and save him from this island. It seemed, in the most metaphorical sense, as if he might be the one doing all the sweeping from now on.
He was still quite skinny, though a measure taller than he’d been when you’d last seen him. However, he seemed a great deal more confident in ways you couldn’t describe, not that he wasn’t confident before, but this sort seemed to increase his presence in a way you were sure his father approved of.
You hoped he’d lost none of his sarcasm, his silver tongue, the propensity to exchange sharp words in jest with others in a way you’d come to associate with the flavor of smoke and steel in the air, in a way you’d spent your time here looking in on, when it happened, though none it ever seemed to occur while two of you alone.
He came up to you quickly, not minding the murmuring of the crowd at all, and you’d taken a step forwards to join him in greeting before realizing he was coming forwards perhaps a tad too fast given what was appropriate. By then, you’d half- fed into the urge to step back.
In one moment, you’d been struck with indecision, which was jarring on its own, stuck deciding where you wanted to focus your redistributed weight. In the next, he…
He’d hooked his arms under yours, hands coming to clutch quickly at your back and waist as he pulled you clumsily closer.
In a move that was sudden and surprising to you, brought your faces together, a clumsy jab of teeth wrought with joyful emotion.
He looked appreciative, though you couldn’t pin why. Was it the quirked smile pulling at his cheeks? The careful, worried tilt of his brows or the appearance of two slightly gapped -though not so distant as they had been before when you were younger- teeth that had told you so?
It startled you, not a feeling borne out of fear, distaste or any other particularly tangible and immediately describable emotion, moreso it was a feeling sprouting quickly out of the momentary rudeness of his actions and the lack of time you’d had to think or mull.
Once you parted, you could not help but lean back into his arms slightly, hands coming up to rest on his shoulders, firmly but without any intense grip.
You looked at his face.
You had no clue where his enthusiasm had come from.
“I heard rumors you’d moved on,” You said, finally. It had taken you a moment to figure out what to say, as tiny dragon’s claws skittered across the docks behind you, casual as a fowl’s.
You resisted the urge to look, continuing to examine your fiance’s face.
Dragons were fewer and farther between the further you got from the Archipelago. It was something to look at, surely, when you’d less of other things to focus on.
“Who said that?” Worry broke through his expression like the hull of a ship through a stormy wave.
“I’m not sure. I only hear what’s been passed. Ear to ear and the like,” You hummed, sort of mumbling as you pulled back a bit and examined the spring and peg that seemed to have replaced his left foot, “Is it true?”
“No,” Hiccup said firmly, brows furrowed, voice concerned and sort of hurt, “No, of course not.”
You raised your brow.
You supposed it really could have been a rumor, though still you wondered what could have been said that had spiraled so quickly, suddenly and largely.
Dragon taming seemed an impossible feat, one that the people outside were trying to make sense of. In the meantime, not many were brave enough to venture up to Berk’s shores. It was so fantastical a claim it seemed a story, and so it wasn’t a far stretch to assume the travelers had taken it that way and treated it as such, molding the rumors to their own liking, more than news already tended to be stretched and bent as it passed from ear to ear.
You weren’t sure if you were glad that you had come so quickly to check.
If you hadn’t, you were sure your engagement would have been all for naught, unless your fiance decided to pursue you on dragonback.
Your eyes were drawn briefly to some fighting on the docks, a dry look from you aimed towards them.
A wily man with a curled, thin mustache and a long beard who you knew likened himself to a genius -a wise man well traveled- but was actually a foul, hunch-backed man was arguing with a local man thrice his size, built like a fortress with flowing blonde hair and a beard that, though not as long as your groupmates', was five times as wide.
You were sure it would soon get physical.
You sighed. It was better you differentiated yourselves from them now, rather than let it lie and suffer the associated consequences later.
“Yes, well, before we get into the meat of things-” You sighed, “I bring a warning- some of the others in my troop-...”
You heard snickering from a pair of what must have been twins, hair the same shade of pale, sandy blonde, though one had their hair knotted in two brains while the other had slightly broader shoulders under a manure-colored vest and thicker helmet horns.
Their shoulders were bouncing with malicious glee, their enthusiasm feeding into the upset.
You hadn’t noticed them behind at first, too taken by your fiance’s sudden appearance, however it seemed there had been a procession.
There was a small group of Vikings about your age standing behind, where Hiccup had been before. The common emotion among the younger Viking folk seemed to be slight skepticism and mild shock, most intensely from a stocky boy with a missing tooth, closely followed by a thin blonde with a sharp eye, probably displeased by your careless display of affection. Yet, even among those two, most of their attention was focused on the budding fight a few steps aside.
You thought that you could maybe recognize one, though it was fleeting and could very well have been a delusion, an easy mistake. Doppelgangers were common, easy to find wherever you went, each face used and reused over plains and mountains and sprawling countries.
You relaxed, arms still somewhat entangled with Hiccup’s, welcoming the embrace, which seemed to make your fiance joyful yet still as you two continued to break past the distant boundaries of your relationship.
“They’ll… Handle it.” Hiccup stated surely, sort of gesturing back to his ungainly posse with one hand, the space it left behind cool and empty over crumpled and wrinkled fabric.
“Ah…” You said, tongue heavy. You were slightly aware of your own accent, heavy and altered and affected by words exchanged over years spent speaking other languages and the stunting of your Norse vocabulary. It was tinted also by the development of your own special dialect after being stuck in close quarters with others who tended not to call the same language their own, “I suppose I must be too late…”
Hiccup sighed back, eyes darting to the side in a way you took as a hint, suggesting through signals that you abandon his small retinue while you still could.
You two used the distraction to your advantage, though you still had a few things you wished to ask, now that some of your more important concerns had been settled.
Would dragon scales make fine jewelry? How had their economy fared, and what would, say, that big, busty man in the large hat pay for a nice new coat?
You hadn’t yet seen his steed or heard mention of it just yet, a mount of scales black as night and a blast with all the violence of lightning and many times the ferociousness of a storm.
You had not yet asked about the future, sure that you would need to give him time for things to settle, though you were acutely aware of what sort of bearing all of this would have on yours.
You stood with him on the cliffs up by the spire that housed the great, grand hall embedded into the mountain and in your travels.
You would be sticking close to the archipelago now on, you decided, same as you did when you were young and learning more about your new husband-to-be, especially as you reached the agreed upon age to marry.
Technically, as it was now, you could marry at any time. You’d seen people your age getting wed. However, no one had wanted to rush into things so fast, and now was more the time to watch and wait. It wouldn’t do you well to act in haste, not when things were so precarious.
Your tongue felt at an empty socket in your mouth where one of your teeth had been removed by a violent encounter with a rock as you’d stumbled your way upwards.
Perhaps noticing your plight, Hiccup asked, “Are you alright?”
“...Are you appalled?” You rolled your eyes, speaking in turn, lazily tracing the dimming sunlight with half-closed eyes, feeling quite satisfied with a long day well spent.
You displayed your socket past a barely open mouth before closing it, the point of your action not any more to show than to indicate.
You shifted your hands, pressed flat against a rock just behind you, one you'd chosen quite tiredly to lean against and Hiccup had as well, the two of you enjoying the stored heat it radiated into the cooling air.
You could tell Hiccup nearly did the same, eyes almost mirroring yours.
“It’s charming,” he said, throwing your own words back at you, from earlier in the day, when he’d been dragging a snappish terror along by the prosthetic, its empty gums squishing impishly against the wood and rope on its upper half.
You huffed again and adjusted the cloak draped elegantly across your shoulders by the lapel, a slightly dusty deep, deep blue, nearly black, which shifted in the light like secondhand velvet, before letting your hand fall back again.
You had had a day of simple pleasures. Just Hiccup and you.
His reputation did you wonders. Everyone knew you were engaged, after all. But you didn’t care about that, though it was helpful navigating your way through the village during the short time the two of you had been separated, split by the crowds.
“Merchants can be ferocious too,” You said, voice somewhat loopy with content pleasure.
“Are you sure? There’s one,” Hiccup frowned, “He’s got the most unbearable stories…”
“That’s Johann, then,” You hummed, feeling the heat from his arm also, a close distance away, near enough to feel the heavy from his skin yet far enough not to touch, fingers both pressed flat against rock and separated by a hair.
Hiccup looked at you, brows raised with easy surprise, “You know him?”
“Johann does some dragon-killing himself,” You nodded, “Can’t roam the seas here alone without a swift hand.”
Hiccup looked uneasy.
“Some merchants have a reputation for a reason,” You warned, “Keep an eye out for that one.”
“It just… Seems out of character,” Hiccup said carefully, voice halting.
“It’s to keep you from asking about the Romans, I assume,” You tilted your head back, looking up and enjoying the sun; this was old news to you. One of your folks had tried to get him to join your group, once upon a time, even ignorant to the vast majority of his dealings.
He was skilled enough, to them, for it not to matter how shady he was. It was worth the danger, you thought, at the time, “I know he deals closely with them. Or, other dragon hunters. It’s very hard for patrons to ask unwanted questions when they don’t have the time, see.”
“I don’t really know much about that. I don’t like it all that much,” Hiccup’s lips tightened into a thin line before quickly correcting, “Not…the merchanting. But the hunting.”
“You used to be so enthusiastic about it,” You shifted, pressing more of your weight against the stone by your back.
“I… Outgrew it. The whole fighting thing. The whole… Viking thing,” Hiccup seemed exhausted, voice tired as he spoke. The words, too, were odd to you.
While dragons had been adapted into life on Berk in a whole new way, the people here didn’t seem any less… Norse.
You thought of looking at him again, giving him a skeptical eye, yet you decided it wasn’t worth the effort you’d have to expend to pull your face down and out of the sunlight, which tickled the senses embedded into your face like blades of grass against your palms and toes.
You’d offer him a solution instead. Whether he liked it or not… He might find some solace in it, anyhow.
“You could come be a merchant with me, instead. As you’d planned. You’d be good for it,” You hummed, yet your heart wasn’t completely in it.
He could choose, now.
His voice was hesitant, though it seemed he’d like to humor the idea anyways, “You’d want me On your ship? What- Counting coins?”
The suggestion wasn’t incredible to you. It wasn’t like he hadn’t known how to craft or like he hadn’t been prepared for it, this whole time.
“Yes,” You confirmed, “Keeping stock… Making stock. Like you’d been trained.”
He looked down, “What if I refuse?”
You shrugged lazily, despite your earlier concern. Your purpose was not to cause upset, your goal not trouble. Your mind was far from a state where you could act in a completely serious manner, though your tone held the continued taste of formality.
“What about our… Engagement?”
“I suppose you have a choice,” You hummed you stretched without moving, arms muscles flexing, in place, satisfying a deep urge in your muscles to pull, like a washwoman, hands wrought with callouses after finishing a heavy load late into the frigid night, or a thick man, arms dusted with hair and sawdust as he braced his hands against his back and pushed, spine cracking like sharp rocks tapping into each other after being kicked and flat stones being rubbed against one another by the light, clumsy hands of a child.
You’d nearly lost your words, the subject of your conversation fading like gentle thoughts from a fuzzy mind, faint and lost under a sea of buzzing evening pleasure.
“You remember what I gave you last time?” Hiccup asked, after a long moment, in which your head had nearly dropped back as far as it would go, your arms nearly falling limp.
It took you another very long moment to recall.
“The knife or the coin?” You murmured, voice sluggish, eyes closed, “They were nice souvenirs.”
You shifted as you finally looked up, turning towards your fiance with half-lidded eyes and a contented smile.
His expression went from stiff with slight worry to a melted caring.
“Here’s another,” He handed you a cool piece of metal with hesitant hands, yet they were not at all shaking. No apprehension, as they had held the last time you spoke, gone as he’d somehow found a way to grow into himself.
You weren’t sure what the purpose of it was. Was it a promise? Payment for your time?
You hummed and leaned closer, forehead dropping onto his shoulder ever as you pulled your fingers weakly shut around the coin, nuzzling into the fur of his coat; You’d already been in close proximity, so there was no thought expended in the action, especially as the barriers you’d shared had been weakly drifting aside, moving further and faster as you’d spent the day together.
The light outside was yellow but somewhat waning, still bright enough to shine through the skin of your lids.
I’ll think about it,” He said and you murmured amused nonsense, half furrowing your brows as your eyelids weighed ever heavier with drowsiness, fur hairs tickling and grazing at your brows, “I’m sure. I really wouldn’t be good for it.”
You closed your eyes, breathing softly as he spoke.
You decided that there was nothing more to do, to be active or attentive for, and you were very content after such a long day spent together.
“It’s fine… You’d learn it well, eventually,” You spoke, muffled into his sleeve as your head bobbed further down.
You’d been on the boat’s deck, performing your duty early in the morning since just before the night-darkness turned to morning-darkness, so you were tired. You were one of the earliest awake, the job to navigate to this location one that the others deemed to be your responsibility.
“Are you alright?” Hiccup asked, suddenly.
“I’m just tired.” You said, tilting your head ever so slightly and blinking drowsily up at him.
He looked at you as if he’d been startled, leaning away slightly in a way that caused you to fall forward and look up further, your chin resting on his arms. His mouth was curled to the side slightly just as it was a smidge open, the full range of his pupil visible, an expression you took in with heavy amusement.
Your fingers tugged at his sleeves ever so gently as you sort of righted yourself; it wasn’t like he hadn’t ever seen your face before.
He smiled, shifting yet somehow closer, bridging the gap between him and you, pressing shoulder against shoulder and teasing your slightly cold fingers with his warm ones.
Later, you would be found messily laying atop each other, sleeping like sunbathing animals, just before the last hints of light faded from the sky. All was well.
You took your busted tooth, strung on twine, and dropped it around his neck.
“You’re weird,” Hiccup said fondly and awkwardly, looking downwards.
You patted his arm.
You supposed, to him, you would be a bit of an odd one.
“Some other people would find it special,” You hummed, knowing the reaction it would rise out of him, “Aren’t you supposed to find it lucky?”
You knew there were some norsemen who kept their teeth with pride, though the tradition was not necessarily one of yours. It may not have been one of Hiccup’s, either.
“I’m not wearing this,” Hiccup warned, “...All the time.”
“I know you’ll keep it close,” You hummed slyly.
Thankfully, only a few things had gone sour, and none of the backs that had been stabbed had been yours. None from your group within a group of merchants. Your hold was a few crewmates lighter, though that served you just as well, the scales in a pouch by your hip more than making up for the loss in your eyes.
You could never stay longer than a few days, yet you made the most of it, knowing that it could be a while before you’d see him again; perhaps not a year or two, as it had been the last time you’d been off. At least, you’d found yourself hoping not.
You pressed a soft peck to his mouth, which felt a bit odd given it was still slightly open, then pulled back and waited, trying to gauge his reaction.
You were met with pleased surprise, a mouth half-open with a smile.
Then you brushed off your poncho as you stood at the docks, those behind you getting ready to leave.
Men carried chests aboard your smallish home, full of food and wood and other things, traded for luxuries and good stories.
Though the number of Vikings at the docks was few, you were still cautious, leaning closer to him.
There was not so much fanfare as when you arrived, and though you spent very much time together, you felt as if there was still a distance between you and the rest of the people and things involved in his life.
“You could still come with me,” You whispered into his ear mischievously.
Hiccup rolled his eyes as you pulled back, an amused smile on both your lips, his, once again, slightly more surprised than your own.
You didn’t particularly expect him to take you seriously, his quick smile morphing into a puzzled frown.
“Who will take charge after, though? Everyone expects me to- especially now that I’ve…”
You pondered his dilemma vaguely- they must have had a solution, someone who was assumed to take the place in line behind his father. If Hiccup was to be married off to you, the chance that he was in line at all in the first place was the punchline of a joke.
There must have been some solution- and with his ascension, some political strife among his father’s subjects.
“Make them choose a council,” You said offhandedly, bringing one hand further upwards to squeeze his shoulder, “Vote for it. Some of the larger groups-guilds- do it.”
You both knew you weren’t referring to any Vikings. At least none of the ones your fiance knew of.
You knew the Romans did something similar, though bringing it up with him now would more than likely sour the mood. The Vikings and the Romans… A troublesome rivalry. You were not quite sure how that worked, given the Berkians’ confinement to the Archipelago.
They probably seemed to be more a group of banded pirates than a civilized society to the Berkians.
“It would be better to have someone closer to their own issues in charge, anyways,” You sighed contemplatively.
The hairs on the back of your neck were prickling, a second sense ringing, honed over years of travel and a few harrowing moments where you had been nearly abandoned by your crew in foreign land after a sudden need to fly.
You were all too aware as the last few of your crewmates shambled up the ramp and into your boat.
“Huh?” Hiccup said dumbly, in a way that felt slightly foolish and in a way that did not follow what you had come to expect from him or suit him at all.
“The common folk. It’s easier to divvy up chores when there’s a group vote. Your father doesn’t have a council?” You asked, as Hiccup grabbed your hands, entwining your fingers.
Even the most solitary king had an advisor or two.
You drew out the moment farther than you would have perhaps allowed in any other situation, never allowing yourself to be in a state where you’d be left behind, not since you were unbelievably young and ignorant to the measures and numbers that could be calculated with just a hand. The others were not at all sympathetic to the ones who’d not been at the boats in time for departure.
“I’ll deal with it later,” Hiccup said unsurely, eyes glancing off to the side, before focusing back onto you.
His look was shared in a way that promised a few more goodbyes, yet a call from the ramp leading up to your ship had drawn your attention away from him.
“Yes… Until next time,” You placed one last press of lips against his cheekbone, half over his eye, before lowering from your toes and gently allowing your fingers to release from his own.
It was all very sudden.
You’d not heard of anyone else who rode a dragon- no one with a dragon quite so dark and devilish.
It had to be his, black as a bat, that was quickly approaching you from the sky, which you’d previously thought to be a seabird, shocking given that they never traveled this far out to sea.
You didn’t run, balk or hide as he approached, sure and confident in him as you were in the standing of your engagement, despite the time that passed; until he’d given his word, it was still standing, though you supposed that could be what he’d tracked you down to discuss.
He came looking for you.
His dragon swooped downwards, wings outstretched like a hawk going in for the kill, dropping against the deck with a bounce and a run, the force of it causing your boat to tilt to the side.
You’d never seen it up close and in person before, leather and scale hide dark as night, tinted blue as the sky nearly always was.
Astride its back was most definitely a man, just reaching the cusp between teenhood and adulthood, shaped in a way that was slightly different yet altogether recognizable.
Quicker than any stallion could approach, his mount bounded towards you, blowing in your direction just nearly as fast as the sea wind blew through your scalp, growing suddenly larger until he was up in your face, and then swept half past you.
With the momentum left over from his landing and a grunt, he was able to hook his arm around your waist and pull you up, half spinning you and pulling you up onto the seat of his saddle and over his dragon.
Quickly, your lips met, him dipping his head just slightly even as you were pulled onto the saddle with him, laughing joyfully and with slight startle, wondering what you’d done to enjoy such a passionate embrace.
You weren’t sure where he’d found the strength within those wiry limbs, though you guessed there had to be much more under peachy skin than you originally assumed.
“I didn’t mean for it to be so long,” You murmured, examining the face which had to most definitely belong to your fiance.
You hadn’t the opportunity; this ship wasn’t under your command, after all, or any, and so you were still to bend to the whims of the majority, unable to fulfill the requirements of your duty, though when you could, you made sure to stick close to the Archipelago.
In the years since you’d last seen him, he’d definitely grown taller, now donning brown leather, pressed into a scaled pattern. His jaw had sharpened and you could see a nice pair of cheekbones, previously hidden under waning baby fat.
“I’ll stop by whenever you need,” Hiccup said, almost pleading, with easy acceptance as he brought up his other hand, previously clutching at one of the leather saddle handles under you, now holding your face.
His knuckles ran down your neck gently, before he lifted it and settled his palm down for a run down your side, parallel to his other.
It was an aweing display of affection, one you supposed you should come to expect if he’d be pushing the limits of your relationship every time you met, something you once again found you weren’t quite against.
You blinked at him, eyelashes brushing against his in a mock display of affection.
You could not hide how you had been thrown off, and yet you couldn’t help the light feeling inside of your chest or the curling of the corners of your mouth that followed, in great contrast to the bitter shouting and disgruntled grumbling of your crewmates working the ropes,
displeased by the shaking of the ship.
“I’ll expect you more often, then,” You hummed, nearly sung, conceding to his affections as your noses touched, your hand casually tugging at a leather strap, the one traveling half the length of his chest like a cut sash.
He wasn't the only one who had changed some; time had made you easier, more relaxed in a few varied ways.
You returned his embrace easily, like one of two love birds or as you’d seen a few tree-crawling animals do during your travels, tails curling and twining together in a universal expression of joy, limbs wrapping around the other as if to convey the extent of their devotion through proximity.
You could feel the bumps and ridges in the leather he wore through your own tunic’s fabric, stomach pressed flush to his torso.
You were sure he’d fly you back to the ship before they’d gotten far, but that would all be done later.
You had brought and held a scant few of your things, still impressed that he’d flown to you this time.
You stood over a clearing, packed, dry dirt surrounded by saturated green grasses over a cool clifftop, a wide open, empty space
Along the sides, Hiccup’s companions also lounged, draconic and not. You paid them little attention, and as such they seemed largely disinterested in turn, though a few jeers exposed the novelty of your interaction.
His traveling group consisted of who you assumed to be the same few teens you’d seen on Berk, the ones he’d taken to referring to in passing.
You’d never come to have known them. You’d not even held a conversation the one time you’d been by them at the docks at fifteen winters. You’d not heard enough of them to truly make a space for you to remember them in your recollections, though a few disjointed names floated along the tip of your tongue.
You couldn’t imagine Hiccup was anything but practical when you were gone, or that you existed as anything but a topic not thought of or spoken much about, though nothing was sure as you had to confess that you hadn’t known your fiance as well as you had liked.
You supposed you’d have to get acquainted somewhat further if you were going to be visiting more often now that your husband-to-be was more inclined to go after you than wait for you to return to his home.
“We were planning on… Settling somewhere, exploring a bit,” then Hiccup grumbled under his breath, “is this where you’ve been, all this time?”
You laughed under your breath, arms locked over his shoulders and around his neck in an embrace, enjoying the sun on your face and the day breeze against your nose, “There are a great deal more places outside the archipelago.”
“There are more places outside the archipelago?” He seemed surprised.
You brought one foot back to rub at your ankle and wrinkled your nose at him with amusement; if he hadn’t believed that, then why had he left his little island?
He probably had, but you couldn’t call him anything less than naive, even if he was wise in other ways.
Though… you could see very well that his inexperience would bloom into something else given the right amount of time.
“Of course. Where do you think I’d gone all these years? There are no fjords as beautiful as the ones I’ve known here, or waves nearly half as big as the ones I’ve lived past,” You declared calmly, parroting him.
“I thought those were just… Stories,” Hiccup proposed, eyes darting to the side.
“Not at all,” Your lips curled with amusement.
Some had been exaggerated, maybe, by consequence of your thoughtlessness, too busy or perhaps lazy to recount the story in full, but many if not most had been spoken with words as true as you could make them.
“You’ve no sense of adventure?” You asked, listening to the twittering and rustling of the wind and other living things through the grasses.
“I need to bring it into practice more often,” Hiccup said, determinedly, pupils focused on you, “I’ll probably get to, now.”
“There’s not much to keep besides,” You said, looking down at your belongings softly, the small, warped and dented dull knife and the sharper, more refined but not yet perfect dagger, “But I kept them.”
They lay in a shallow wooden box, a simple one that you’d had since childhood, old and not worth anything. So, it had been something you could hide things away in for yourself and no one would mind.
It was incredibly sentimental for you, your thumb running over a slightly chipped child’s knife handle, remembering how you carried it around for seasons as you had been sure it was your duty to, a representation of your loyalty and dedication to your exchange.
You pulled yourself up from your crouch, bringing your hand back to your side, turning back.
“You really did, huh?” Your husband-to-be looked at you with sensitive eyes, prosthetic creaking and boot padding against the wood floor as he moved towards you, movements slow in a way that you could only describe as incredibly soft, perhaps too much so, for an interaction you primarily interpreted as casual.
At least, that’s what you told yourself.
As you’d grown familiar again, Hiccup went to seek you out with more frequency, though he didn’t always find you, not right away.
He’d gone through many, many adventures yet still somehow found time for you, when he wasn’t off fighting for his life and his dragons’, though it had been a week or two since the last you’d seen him.
You furrowed your brows, looking to the side with your own softening eyes, running a tired hand down the side of your face, “Would you rather I have not?”
“No,” Your fiance returned, though you had the slight suspicion that he hadn’t heeded your words at all, “This is good. It’s- It’s a good thing.”
You shifted slightly to your left to compensate for the slow tilting of the ground below you, leather spines falling against one another as their center of gravity changed.
The shelves built into the walls of your cabin came with a few novels stored, some more worn than others, all with a few loose pages that you’d worked hard to earn, buy, hide and, on the rare occasion, had pettily stolen, carried from dock to dock as merchandise, though your reason for having them was much more selfish.
During your travels, for many years, you’d wanted for things to do in your free time.
Some were written in multiple languages, some in just one, groups separated by carved tablets, held still by strings nailed across most of your shelving, so that they would not fall over during the rougher storms.
Most of them you would end up selling along with a few other odds and ends that carried, posed on your shelves in a way you felt added to the mystique, some of them booby trapped so that anyone wandering that might have found their way down from the deck wouldn’t be leaving with a full hand.
The more important things you kept hidden. The fancier gifts lay in secret compartments all around your room, some stuck into the hollow covers of hard-bound books, sewn and nailed together by your own hand. Your old, shallow tray always lay hidden in a shallow compartment in your desk.
Speaking of gifts…
“Take these back with you,” You said, nodding to your side, where lay an array of multicolored, expensive perfume, shelved in neatly packaged rows, stoppers held still by a wooden frame, multicolored glass bodies of different, polished shapes exposed below for display.
Cheap gems lay by it along the dark-stained wood, some of your knicknacks, nothing that would earn you coin or food or any of the resources you would need to travel if you’d tried to sell it in its country of origins, some dyed, pigment laying heavy in some visible cracks in multicolored faces.
You handed him a map as well, many times transcribed and copied by your own hand, taken down from your wall earlier after some further thought, held in its roll by a leather strap and a carefully pressed wax seal.
He might enjoy that one more.
You eyed Hiccup admiringly in your most private inner sanctum.
It was good to have someone else in your corner, someone by you- a small comfort, what with the commotion above deck. The thought of it caused the hairs on the back of your neck to prickle.
A few days before, you’d interjected at the wrong moment during a heavy argument over an already tense episode.
You’d felt malicious eyes on your back ever since, and your paranoia had been spiking, chills like thorns against your nape. You were worried that your position on board was precarious and you would fall victim to the sabotage you’d always just borne witness to.
The chances of them trying something now, with your fiance around, were much lower.
“Perfume?” Hiccup asked, unimpressed and a little upset as, from a distance he inspected your shelves, one of his hands outstretched in order to grab the rolled-up map as you passed it to him.
Your fingers slid smoothly against Hiccup’s as yellowed paper passed from your hands in a way that you could only describe as sensual.
You knew the scents were ill-suited. The gift had been a suggestion by another, something to keep up the pretense of a healthy engagement. It had been a while since you’d been dutiful, in that sense.
You’d listened, but only because you knew your fiance had been carrying the burden of your relationship for a while. It seemed terribly inconvenient for your valiant to-be to have to come and try to find you each time.
He’d found you this time as you’d been traveling down to Knaff, last you had checked, but that had been days ago. The seas around you now, though, were unusually bumpy for the typically calm fishing region. It was much colder here, wherever you were.
The ship groaned slightly under you, wood crackling, sound reverberating deeply as the vessel moved in near half a rotation.
At one point, you considered splitting off with some of your other crewmates, onto a different ship, where you’d be afforded more freedom. It would provide you with more of the freedom to visit with your fiance.
Though- the idea of traveling away from the one place you’d stuck by since you were a very, very small child- you’d been born on another ship, though you hadn’t seen that one since you’d been three or five- it was a daunting idea, and one that would ultimately bring more harm than good.
You had been slowly working your way up the ranks, taking more charge and responsibility over the deck and under it. To leave- you’d have to fight tooth and nail to ensure you kept some level of authority.
You had to fight for the right to your own room.
You shed your overcoat, dropping it along the top half of your chair, the one poised in front of your desk, papers ordered neatly and in a way that would prevent them from sliding off the top, quill and ink bottle also secured into a carved, shallow hole in the corner of it.
You were born into the life of a traveling merchant and there you would stay. And, if it came down to it, you knew you wouldn’t stay grounded. A life wondering was much less terrible than a life shackled to land.
Jumping ship now seemed to be the wrong move, especially at a time when your fiance had a flying, fire-breathing dragon free for his own fast-traveling use. However, if you had your own way into the sky… Or, if he’d like to lend you his, well, you couldn’t toss that idea completely.
“I did not pick it out,” You grumbled eventually, voice low in case your voice carried past the wall, where you could hear the quiet, packed groaning and shifting of your crewmates, off duty, “You’ll like the other one more. Give the scents to your other secret girlfriend.”
You would have to find a way to compensate for his efforts, to return the formality, in other ways.
Shadows danced and lingered moodily, filling the room with something that was nearly occult, your way lit by glass-covered candles with holes along the front as your ship rocked slowly, evening turning to true night.
Of course it was dark and dim in your cabin at the end of your small hall, your room wide yet inconvenient in the event the ship started to flood, or went down, with no exit holes or doors to provide any extra light.
Hiccup started, stepping towards you in his startlement, speaking quietly as he was reminded by the low tone of your voice to keep his down too, “Secret girlfriend?”
There was another chair in the direction you strode, further obscured by shadow, though a small candle lay in that same area, your dull sandy green-gray poncho already dropped over its wooden top.
It was completely opposite to the side of your room that held Hiccup, shelves to his back and lining the wall all the way up to your small, boarded wooden door on one side, stopping just before the place which had had your cot in the corner.
That one was a soft bed with no frame, a world of difference from the hammock lining the other rooms in this ship, held in place by a shallow border not unlike the kind farmers cultivated that lined shallow beds of herbs and flowers.
You stopped your striding once you reached your small changing area, hooking your fingers under worn, slightly dirtied fabric with a displeased twitch of your lips, lifting and pulling it aside until it rested on the very edge of your chair in one smooth, neat motion.
It revealed white fabric, folded over twice and hanging under where your poncho previously lay.
“The Hofferson girl,” You rolled your eyes unseriously. You’d heard the rumors, yet hadn’t taken them seriously.
The tips of your fingers teased the white fabric, a classic wool, contrasting against scarring on your hands from working the ropes, before you pulled it up and hung it over one arm, embroidered hems shifting at the motion like a fine curtain in front of an open window, slightly billowing as you turned.
You ran quick fingers down a smooth frame to your side, ready to hook your fingers underneath it and pull.
“Astrid?” Hiccup asked, startled, “No- We’re not-”
“You’re not?” You attempted a tease as you turned your attention fully towards the door, though your fiance looked much too puzzled to have caught on to your jest. You also did not joke very often- and therein may have laid the problem.
“I mean, maybe I thought about it once, when I was, like, ten… But, no-! I mean…”
You did not take offense to the suggestion- you had sort of expected the topic to show face eventually.
You pulled lightly on the door’s frame, listening to the roll and scrape of wood against wood as you pulled its screen across the room and between both you and Hiccup, light dancing oddly through the paper and slightly muffling any sound coming from the other side.
You had not been coached on how to respond to the topic of a straying eye any more than you’d been coached in the art of body language and petty subterfuge. However, you were confident in your ability to navigate the conversation.
You learned, of course, that for others, it was quite natural for the mind to wander, as long as the hands stayed put. In a situation such as yours where the pairing was born more from duty and obligation than choice, you could not shame him for the thought.And he’d been only a child, at that.
It was hardly a breach of contract.
You released your hand on the pull out door standing half-open on one side of you.
You were far from the ship’s darling- you had argued with the others for the privilege of having that door. One man was under the fool impression that it would upset the balance of the boat, as if his goods-hoarding on the other side hadn’t done enough damage on its own.
“You never thought about anyone else?” Hiccup asked, as you tugged on the bottommost hem of your tunic, your belts long since discarded.
You considered his words, pausing for a moment. You hadn’t many other options, in terms of folks to ogle at.
The thought -not quite that one, but a similar one- had come to you on a day when you’d been working the sails, hands wrapped around the ship’s ropes, sleeves rolled up past your elbows. You didn’t believe it -of course, this arrangement had been made less willingly on his part than yours, so it came as a surprise, to you, the idea that he might have thought of you at all, when you’d been gone, yet you knew he kept your tooth in his belt.
He’d called you odd for giving it to him, once, but- You’d found him to be much more of an ‘oddball.’
You tongued the empty socket, which had grown much shallower and thinner as your gums had healed.
“No,” You said, face blank, though you were sure he could not see it, especially as you pulled your tunic upwards, largely distorting your shadow, “I am engaged.”
You knew from experience that on the other side, your shirtless form would cast a shadow against the opposite wall through the decorated paper face of your sliding wall, matching the outline of a rip on just one side, just above a carefully embroidered branch of flowers, a faulty import which you’d fixed with some thread and a needle.
You’d spent hours warning others away -children and the busy adult folk- in case the distraction caused you to poke your eye out, the bobbing of the ship making your predicament all the more dangerous.
You listened to the heavy shifting of your own fabrics, not intending to leave Hiccup to stew in silence and yet that was what happened all the same.
Offhandedly and without intention, you’d been listening, and what you heard could perhaps have been a swallow or a noise coming in strongly from the other room or up from the groaning wood. Maybe it was something that had traveled through the walls from the outside, the pouding of footsteps above heavy.
You watched in your periphery as your shadow stretched and bowed against transparent, casting paper as you dropped your tunic to the seat of your chair, half bare form dancing with the tiny flame on your other side in a way you might have likened to some type of poetry had you been focused on it at all.
Then, once again you felt at the frame to one side of you, hooking your fingers around its side.
You revealed yourself, your sliding door sticking slightly as you pushed it back aside, yet you kept your eyes down as, with one thumb, you traced the seam along one of your sides.
You felt your hand through the fabric, probing and dull, sliding down to just below your waist, your eyes looking down all the while in order to make sure it lay correctly over the nearly invisible hem of your trousers underneath.
Then you lifted your head.
Your fiance had paused, his hand grazing against the top of your desk on the opposite side of your room.
As you looked up at him, you registered a mouth parted slightly and your eyes focused on the slight shift of his Adam's apple.
His own eyes seemed interested, curious, focused on your gown and its hem, which reached low. Lower than you were used to, in a way that reminded you of a dream you’d had once about white child’s robes and tiny brown-haired boys.
“How does it look?” You asked, arms splayed out slightly.
“What’s the, uh-” Hiccup laughed nervously, low and under his breath, hand leaning heavy against your desk chair, other palm running through his hair, “The white for?”
“You may not be thinking of it yet, but we are of marriageable age,” You insisted, “ Once you decide what to do -in spite of whatever you choose- I need to have a presentable wardrobe.”
“What- What?”
“The point of our engagement -any engagement- is marriage, dear future husband of mine,” You grumbled, “Unless you intend to break it off?”
Hiccup stumbled forwards slightly as the boat rocked particularly roughly.
Some incredibly muffled shouting from above deck sounded finally through the wood, a sure sign that his dragon above was wreaking havoc.
He would need to attend to it, soon, as you would other things. Wedding preparations were a far off thought, fallen to the wayside until you once again expressed the need to check to see if things were still in order.
“No! No- no, not at all,” Hiccup said, waving his hands around in front of him, “I just don’t know if I’m… ready.”
It was inevitable, the choice he’d have to make- you weren’t sure what kinds of reassurances you could offer him.
You could say that you would keep him safe, that you would mind him well as you’d prepared for most of your life, but it was clear that that wouldn’t be needed any longer. Really, with his dragon, he would be the one doing the minding.
You knew that, in his home, a grand-looking sword hung on the wall which was meant for you, as you'd been made to know by reading between the lines. It was a sword made for marriage, and it had been made by Hiccup, apparently, though you knew he was surely much too young at fifteen summers to make some of the detailing on the handle anywhere near as fine.
And yes- the thought hit you with little fanfare- ‘Summers’ seemed a more appropriate term to measure him by, anyways. He was eighteen summers. It felt righter than eighteen winters, though that was the standard unit of measure, here.
Really, Hiccup was very… Alive.
You rolled your eyes, “I will be prepared for when you are.”
Maybe he was not the most passionate or violent, but he felt- Well, you saw he could be combative and he had wants that you recognized. He was not the warmest but he was very warm, compared to you, and he indulged in contact frequently when the situation deemed it appropriate. You had to say he did, in fact, embody those traits more so than most, as you’d known them.
You examined Hiccup’s roiling expression, leaning to the left side as the ship leaned particularly hard to the right.
You were only slightly surprised when your fiance spoke, ready to turn away and put your casual clothes back on, with or without his approval, “You wouldn’t… Leave? I know whatever we have was just…” A contract. An exchange. You were familiar with the concept.
He had a way with words, too, that made you feel slightly as if you could be warm as well. He was, in a way, like the summer to your fleeting winter. So, he was nineteen summers, perhaps, or maybe twenty. Numbers tended to change when you altered the unit of measure.
You were about the same number of winters, now. Whether that made you all the more fitting for each other or whether or not it was the first indication of the inevitable failure of your engagement had remained to be seen.
“A deal’s a deal. However, ties are easily cut- Should you have been found lacking at any time, and I had measured my worth differently, I would have left,” You grumbled, “I am satisfied with our arrangement.”
After a while of silence, your fiance spoke again.
“I guess I am, too,” Hiccup said, striding quickly over the few feet parting the two of you, hooking an arm behind your waist as if to feel you out in your new garments, pulling you flush to him, his belts and straps pressing into your skin in a way that felt quite natural.
You looked into your fiance’s eyes. The folds below seemed slightly deeper, the coloring underneath darker than they should have been had he been rested, his grip slightly weaker than it had been earlier when he had seemed more wakeful.
You would, too, head to bed soon. It was much too late for him to fly back alone, so late at night, you thought. You wondered if he would sleep besides you this night?
You smiled.
Your frantic, all-consuming panic quickly broke into anger.
The sleep that had been spirited away from you as you had been accosted in the middle of the night then crept dangerously up against your back, weighing your lids, luring you towards a thick, minacious rest.
You’d ground your teeth weakly, fluttering your eyelids as you fought yourself back into wakefulness.
They had tried to kill you- and even worse, they had tried to steal your fiance’s Fury. They had no idea what sort of boundaries they had crossed, political and otherwise.
It was an idiot move- to cross an island full of bloodlusted clansmen with dragons.
They knocked you overboard into the water as you slept, tossing a few things out after you into the bobbing bergs and fractured ice below, which you had to soldier through, hauling up the nearly completely hollow chest, holding what number of your belongings you could muster.
You could never go back after such a betrayal, even if every single member of your ship was meticulously picked off and skinned.
You cursed, nose wrinkling and face morphing into an expression you thought must be ugly as you stared angrily into the opaque white and transparent ice walls, displaying long-since sealed over pockets.
What had they even been planning to tell Stoick the Vast- were they just going to say his heir had died? Been thrown overboard as they had taunted as they sailed away?
They couldn’t be so foolish as to think they could get away with it. They would all die.
Your nails hurt, fingers stiff with cold. The flesh and skin over their bone worked against you, sluggish and unmoving, numb, feeling more akin to an obstruction than a real part of your body.
The lightest layer of flakes, powdered on top of the harder packed snow beneath had been long since displaced by you.
They had Toothless muzzled, his fin ripped to shreds, wrapped tight with rope, leather hanging in scraps from his back, yet he had been too wriggly and too violent to hold and sell as they had planned.
You were stuck inside a hollow cave of ice in a glacier, the entrance looking more like a wide crack in the side than a smooth hole.
Toothless’ knocking around had trapped you and had also provided you shelter against the elements in a world where you couldn’t conceive of anything but ice, above and below.
The black dragon was outside the collapsed ice tunnel, side pressed to the exit as he scratched at his muzzle made of leather, not as sturdy as it could have been, already just beginning to give under his ripping claws.
It was much easier for you to make him out when he’d been scrabbling at the walls along the clearer side of the small enclave. Now, he was a fuzzy, filled outline behind ragged gouges, half obscured by fallen, white ice boulders.
He would be fine.
Dragons had an inner fire about them, a simmer that kept them hot even naked in the frigid winterland your fiance called home.
You were too incensed and bare to do much of anything but shake, your senses fading and your skin discolored by the cold, huddled in the snow as it was packed beneath you.
You’d been through harsh weather before, though you had always been donned in the most appropriate outerwear and all your practice south had meant that you were more accustomed to the heat than cold.
It was incredibly difficult to find Berk in the winter months as the ocean froze your way- You had never experienced something like this before. The archipelago was something different. Even if you’d wanted to wear the proper clothes, there was no doubt that they had scalped your living quarters already.
You were afraid your lips were blueing, yet your silent fury kept you active; awake, alive.
Now, you were nearly completely bare. It was cold, and you were not as strong against the icy weather as Hiccup was, fine even in just his thin tunic and what bits of his leather armor he could salvage.
At least you were hidden.
“I can’t-” Hiccup said, incensed, voice echoing slightly across the enclosed space, positioned directly across from you on the other side.
Hiccup was, of course, stuck with you. He wasn’t rendered anywhere near as inept, adapted to the cold. He spent his time fruitlessly grinding at the frigid ice blocking the entrance to the cave.
Nearly invisible beneath his fist was the tiny knife he’d made you years and years before, one of the very few things you’d been able to salvage, that you’d searched and wanted for.
With a rough sigh, he gave up, standing from his half-crouch as if your gaze beckoned him away, his prosthetic barely giving under hsi weight as it, too, probably felt the harsh freeze of winter.
“Are you alright?” Hiccup asked, voice conveying his exhaustion yet burdened by not much more than his aching arms. He was probably well practiced in the hard art of withstanding winter storms.
You took a real look at him for the first time since you’d been thrown overboard, past your own heavy eyelids, a slight appreciation for him blooming behind the rage you felt, not nearly enough to blow the other emotion over but something you could reach if you felt for it.
For a while, you’d seen more and known more- at least that’s what you thought.
You’d wondered when he’d grown up, if in another life you would have gotten to see him change from boy to man up close
What he lacked in relative size, he was able to manage in presence, a conviction so interwoven into his stance and actions it must have carried into his very blood. It was in a way you thought you might only ever see from his Dad, ever as he lay crouched over the blocked cave exit, scratching away at it with near fruitless efforts.
“I’m-m,” You attempted to voice, though what you wanted to say was a mystery even to you- you wanted to voice your thanks, maybe, for accompanying you up to this point, where you might’ve very well died. For not focusing all of his attentions on his dragon in the snow, who could have most quickly flown him away, even if it would have left you freezing dead in the broken white.
Frustratingly, you found your tongue wouldn’t move as you wanted, feeling like an extra lump of bumpy meat in your mouth as the ice below remained sapping away at your heat, cold like spikes hiking up the flesh of your thighs.
You sighed roughly yet shakily, “I’m well.”
Hiccup paused for a moment, staring at you.
You kept close to your only heat source, held up from the barely melting snow below by a small, fat carved block of stone; a tiny fire started using a few things that hadn’t gotten too damp, mostly wood.
You wanted to shift in the slush, yet you knew if you did, you would feel its bite even more intensely. There was nothing but ice and blue all around you.
You weren’t sure why it hadn’t occurred to you before, but you had half a mind to stand up and get out of the cold.
You jerked but you found you couldn’t get up, hands feeling stuck to your elbows, arms frozen to arms.
You then sighed forcefully, waveringly. Whiningly.
“Wait- It’s fine,” Hiccup said, moving -stumbling- towards you instead as your shallow breathing echoed throughout the small enclave with worrying volume, “I’ll just-”
He leaned down and touched your shoulder slowly, chilled fingers leaving small bits of ice and a slight, barely-felt trail of water behind.
As if you had been finally granted permission, your body let out a hard shutter, the kind that made you flex your jaw as you were wrought with spasms.
You could feel his arm jump, though the feeling wasn’t as tense and raw as you supposed it should have been.
“You’re cold,” Hiccup said, startled. His voice was tinged with worry.
“An-nd,” You wheezed, speaking concedingly, “Tired.”
“Come here,” He said.
You were able to manage a shift, though you had a hard time tracking what came next as he settled behind you, your eyes closing even as you kept your head up, and you were lost in the blackness and the fuzziness of a drowsy half-sleep.
When your eyes had found themselves open again -by some thoughtless miracle, you were sure- Hiccup was behind you, his own arms circled over your own arms, stuck around your knees.
His prosthetic, still tied to his leg, was positioned away from you, cold metal held a few measures further away than it would have been had he let his leg lie naturally. The metal portion by the very end was nearly completely hidden in the snow.
Your head bobbed heavily as your muscles periodically gave in, a few sharp commands from your waning mind the only thing keeping your head from falling all the way down and you from losing your wits and falling to slumbers.
You’d never felt your head so heavy before.
Hiccup leaned forwards and rested his own head against you, albeit probably unintentionally -at least, as you’d assumed- burying his nose behind your ear.
“Are you… Are you awake?” He asked, his voice louder to your ears than it had been before, even as its tone was gentle and as your senses were dull to most everything around you.
Hiccup was hot. His skin on yours felt like burning, a dulled version of the feeling of skin teasing boiling water or glancing off glowing red metal, and yet you found yourself drawn to it deeply.
You let out a little noise that could have been a sigh as he pulled closer, scooting inwards.
A few clumps of slough were pushed up and trapped between you as he did, yet you couldn’t find the words to complain, not when he was so kind.
“...I am-m.”
You weren't sure when and how many times you’d nearly drifted off before that moment, humming and grunting disjointedly, everything out of rhythm like an instrument out of time, though you tried to take in your fiance’s voice.
As your vision blurred and you focused in and out of your surroundings, you felt more than registered a dull noise that must have been a loud… something.
You’d probably not be able to feel anything more specific than an all-encompassing chill, and through your troubles, it took you a while to realize that Hiccup was speaking, again.
“...-When we get out of this, you could leave with me… or stay. Whatever you want,” Hiccup suggested honestly.
You opened your mouth, but had to pause. It- what he had been saying… It sounded important.
Yes- Was he talking about… The Archipelago, or his smaller Edge home? The others talked about moving back to Berk sometimes…. and with everything that had happened recently- you couldn’t remember what… It seemed he would be going back soon, anyways. It felt right enough.
It took you a moment, and a while of thinking, during which you must have been making a face, to come up with a somewhat worthy response.
“Yo-u’re going to run away?” You tried to huff, voice tinged with struggle and slur.
“No,” Hiccup said, “Maybe. I just can’t… With my Dad, and the Chiefdom-”
You pushed back into him as much as you could, shifting your shoulders as if you could press more of his heat into you if you’d leaned further into him.
“And it’s-” Hiccup seemed slightly frustrated, though the feeling wasn’t very potent, moreso subtle and said in a way that implied it was aimed towards a very distant thing, “I’m not running away. I just don’t want to do it.”
You tilted your head slightly to glance at him from the corner of your eye, grieving as he pulled his face further from the back of your head.
“I almost ran away once. For real,” He spoke like the confession rolled heavily off his tongue.
You felt a little cold at his admittance, a chill running down your spine. But…
“I thought I’d come here first… “ He murmured, his forehead touching your nape, “Well, not here- but I would try and convince you to come travel… with me, instead.”
“Hm-m?” You mumbled,
“I don’t… need it, if I have you. I think,” Hiccup looked down between you, nearly laughing under his breath, “You have enough stories to keep anyone’s thirst for adventure satisfied for life. I spent my life expecting to go with you- and now they want me to stay?”
He sighed heavily, “I can’t. I can’t. I- I want this.”
He had many more skills than the ones provided by being just a craftsman, now. It would be a pity to throw them all away, but if he didn’t want the life that they provided, then that couldn’t be helped
If you’d be blessed with the privilege, you would take him in with open arms, as you’d planned.
“The-en we’ll d-o-o it,” You mumbled with determination, though you were unable to keep the drag of the chill out of your voice, a sluggish stutter that halted your words.
“Hm?” Hiccup seemed slightly surprised
“I’m-m a merchant, Hiccup,” You closed your eyes, nearly cooing, “If-f you asked your Father- with his blessin-ng- Why would I ever nuh-not travel? …let’s go.”
It took you a long, long moment to speak that last bit.
“You mean it?” Hiccup asked, his voice tinged with a new, slight panic.
There was no buzzing, not yet, yet you were welcomed by the murderously slow nothing in your skin as if your limbs had fallen asleep and lost all feeling, everything above and below bone nothing but gummy padding.
You might have tried to press your nails past your skin if you could move your arms, to forcefully test if you really could feel nothing, a primitive, pointless experiment.
The loss, to you, was akin to the flavor of illness; feverish, yet the feeling wasn’t centered in your head, and it was more cold than not.
You struggled to keep up the facade of someone who still had their wits about them
“It’ll be-e… easy work,” You breathed, voice growing weaker by the moment, “We-e-e’d- …We will…. m-make it …happen.”
Satisfied with your answer and the incredible effort you expended in order to say it, you went completely silent.
Hiccup nosed methodically, pressing his mouth to the cartilage behind your lobe, providing you some minor reprieve, his hotter breath dancing over your earlobe and causing you to briefly close your eyes.
You exhaled a breath that must have been pleased, soundless without the energy to make any noise as you went limper.
Your fiance must have said something more but you couldn’t hear it well, consumed by the pleasant feeling of cold leaving your limbs, being sapped from you slowly by what felt like a slow crawl, a cold-hot tingle creeping up your meat, fingers and toes first.
You thought you should be hearing something else, your ears processing sound as if it all was like noise underwater; there was an all-encompassing loud, roaring something from somewhere, which seemed to reverberate around you as you lost track of life, head fuzzy and everything too bright and too neutral at the same time.
Dragon…?
You weren't sure when your eyes fell shut.
You became vaguely aware, floating into semi-consciousness as a light scraping sound filled your ears.
You crinkled your brows and pressed already closed lid together tightly until they hurt, turning over from where you lay flat on your back, pulling the crumpled, frayed end of a blanket with you.
You were aware to a degree of an indistinct radiation of heat to your side, closer to you now that you’d turned over a thin, unfamiliar plush floor, clearly placed over a hard bottom, which you could feel at your shoulder, where you now distributed the majority of your weight.
“Can you get it?” A tired, husky voice grumbled, bordering on nasal, slightly muffled by what must have been fabric.
You knew who it must have been after a moment of slugging processing.
“No, I’m not-... The,” You groaned, shifting under your end of the blanket, much too tired to sacrifice your nice, warm spot under the blanket, “Mmh-dragon master.”
“You’re the uh- dragon- dragon mastri- mistress…?”
You churred deep in your throat, a noise that was uncharacteristically animalistic at the ungainly title. It certainly didn't fit you, not by design.
“No, I am not. I am-” You sighed with displeasure, pursing your lips and furrowing your brows at the ridiculous moniker ,rubbing your face deeper into the thin pillow below your head. It was not nearly plush or comfortable enough to hold you comfortably, stiff in a manner which would most likely prove a problem later when your neck began to ache. However, “I am… Hm… Not… sleeping with them.”
You threw out your foot lazily, mind still pleasantly fogged.
Your vision was still dark as you refused to open your eyes, your movements clumsy as your depth perception was hindered, so the first few jerks of your leg bore no fruit.
Nonetheless, the flat of your foot found your silent fiance, applying a steady, weak pressure as it found its place and rested there.
“Aw- Wh-uh?” Hiccup said you made contact with him and the blanket above you began the shift and the brace of your legs against his back began to very slowly push him over, the muscles in his torso still too sleepy to work against yours.
You whined as Hiccup adjusted slowly, letting your legs fall, the sound of him shifting against fabric loud and grating to your ears.
After he settled, there were a few moments of blessed silence and overwhelming sleep, nearly allowing you to drift back off before the cursed scratching started up again.
“Toothless…” Hiccup ground out groggily.
Then, Hiccup’s unruly dragon started beating against wood, with what was most likely his large, leathery paw, the sound much louder now, door.
Even as his dragon kept making a racket and you struggled frustratedly to snuggle back into the thin, cheap plush below, you’d thought Hiccup had gone back to sleep.
You were still not past the point of turn, however, and had half a mind to do the same, despite the noise, until your fiance tried again, “You’re… sleeping with me…?”
“...‘m not a dragon,” You grumbled, voice breathy.
You felt very glad as you heard your fiance let out a strained groan, the shallow cot dipping and wood beneath him creaking as he must have finally gotten up
“Semantics,” Hiccup groaned as the extra blanketing fell half over your face.
You pulled it over your neck with a coo, even more so comfortable despite the scratchy, sack-like texture of its fabric.
It took you a moment to get up yourself, slowly punching yourself up and shifting until your bare feet touched cool wood, one hand pressed to the cot by your waist and the other rubbing off the crust at the corners of your eyes, listening to the shuffling around for your fiance in the dark room and the quiet grumbling and light-leavy steps of his stealthy dragon.
Eventually, once your eyes were clear and your head felt less sloggy, you looked around, eyes meeting the sturdily nailed sides of stacked wood crates to either side of you.
You weren’t sure how your fiance had kept the crates from falling and crushing you both in your sleep, if he had done anything at all. You prayed he had, even in his worried, threatened state.
Your room was a small area walled off by boxes arranged so that you had privacy and remained well hidden in a large storage chamber, piled high with boxes, mostly filled with weaponry.
All of the hold was wood. After a few days of only that, it was painful to your eyes.
You knew that soon, your fiance would be back from wherever he went with his dragon this time of day.
The events that had led you here- You didn’t remember much of them at all. Not how you got on board, though you knew at the time you had been fading in and out of consciousness, for a while a shivering cold castaway on a foreign ship, a bigger freighter than you had ever seen before.
You remembered flashes of Hiccup, the smooth, slivering form of his dragon below, and then you were inside somewhere.
You were still a bit colder than you should be still, but you had worn off whatever had kept you immobilized for so long. It had been a few days since then and you’d been suitably nursed back to health.
Now, you were surviving off of stolen jerky and exotic dried fruits.
If you were back on your ship, in this weather, you might have been scrambling to make sure you made it out of this situation alive. You hoped your former crewmates were plagued by lack of fresh water and scurvy, that they were struck down and suffered the most painful deaths.
You blinked groggily, slowly, your back hunched, before thinking better of it and dropping back onto the cot; there wasn’t much for you to do otherwise besides bear the chill of the day, not that you were at a point where you wanted to do anything else.
The cold wasn’t so bad aboard ship, though you hadn’t before related when the farmers spoke of sitting up to keep warm with their livestock in sleep, not until you’d experienced a winter as cold as this. You almost asked that Hiccup keep his dragon nearer, the smell of foul fish and flaking dragon leather the only thing keeping you from doing so.
There also wasn’t much to do but hide, so you fell into a casual daily rhythm; sit up, stay quiet, wait for Hiccup to return with his dragon in the morning and the evening, eat what he could scavenge, keeping cautious, restless and tense.
Just laying was something that was fine by you during most moments. There was a peace in it, even if it was sandwiched between times laden without. You wished the same relaxation on your fiance.
Your fiance never took off his prosthetic, even when it was clear you two were safe enough and alone. He was especially on edge, especially considering the cargo held on this ship.
You picked at the frayed old sleeve of your stolen coverings- Hiccup had found a large, warm coat for you, somehow, and some other clothes pieces which you’d spent most of your days huddled up in- bottom lids buzzing, and yet you found you were much too awake to sleep.
You heard his dragon before you heard him, aloft on its back, the subtle yet shifting creaking of wood and thick, almost inaudible padding of calloused leather against wood clear to your bored, practiced ears.
It was unlikely that anyone who didn’t know what they were looking for would hear, your fiance’s steed living up to its terrifying moniker.
There was a very light drop, the sound of a grinding spring and its bounce as his prosthetic beat against the wooden deck, muffled as he could make it.
You waited until Hiccup returned, which he did with little fanfare, seemingly emerging from the darkness seemingly emanating from the entrance to your small crate-stacked room.
The lines of his shoulders, drooped, and his limp arms spoke of his exhaustion as if he’d seen something quite unpleasant. To you, though, he did not seem nearly distraught enough for you to think he’d seen anything nearly as graphic as what you’d come to expect might lay in the other rooms.
It was more likely something else had come to haunt him as he was tending to his dragon.
As he reached the threshold of your cot once more, he turned quickly, bending and falling back against the cot, which shifted with a light puffing noise, cushioning his fall.
“Brought him to the bathroom,” He said in response to your curious eyes, voice stiff, “Not that there is one, here.”
As he crouched, his shoulders were too rigid for him to fall back with any sort of real give or bounce, a slight distention of the cot’s surface.
His breathing was measured, coming in evenly, the sound of it not nearly as deep as it would have been had he been filling his chest to its full capacity.
He’d discovered what sort of ship this was a while back; a dragon trapper’s barge, meaning your travels involved much more dread, danger and intrigue than you would have otherwise typically allowed for yourself.
There was a lot of stifled curiosity on the part of your fiance, a lot of action he couldn’t take, the two of you heavily reliant on this ship to reach freedom. Lying in wait seemed to go against most of his instincts, which you found particularly Vikingly.
However, you knew how to keep your head low and how to hide. It was a blessing you were already attuned to keeping quiet on a packed vessel. This one was traveling in an area you’d never been before. If patience was a virtue, you had plenty, and despite the danger, you were thankful to be alive.
You were thankful for your fiance and for his will to keep you so.
Still, you were incredibly aware of the occasional, barely audible crow and scratch from a place hidden a ways beyond the wooden walls all around, the same walls which kept out all light and had you guessing at the time of day, stuck deep in the bowels of this large ship.
There was the occasional conflict above deck, though they would always abate with startling quickness.
“What are we going to do?” You asked, laying by him, for lack of anything else to say, your hands folded over your stomach just over your blanket, pulled up to your mid-torso, “Today, I meant.”
“We’ll figure it out,” He said.
You knew, though, what might happen if you continued to say nothing.
You gently brought up your arm to the side, feeling for his wrist and holding it, the fabric of his sleeves wrinkling under your touch, much like the half of the blanket and the top layer of your cot on his side of your makeshift bed.
You slowly and carefully turned to your side, your movement invoking Hiccup’s own as he dropped his head towards you.
“We should leave, at the next night we’re able,” You murmured, “We can make our way back after. There may be enough here to fix your fin- and it wouldn’t hurt to wander. ...If, that is, you were serious. About the travel. I have to admit that I don't have many prospects…”
“If I wasn’t?” Hiccup paused, glancing at you, “...I didn’t realize you remembered any of that.”
Hiccup was just in his tunic, now. A worn, slightly dirtied red.
You’d spent a few nights, with your cheek pressed close to his, feeling the rougher scruff that was just beginning to sprout along his jaw, pushing out softer, peachier fuzz.
You weren’t sure what had happened to his leather. You knew it was gone before you’d seen his face the first time deep in the belly of this ship, hands clutching at fabric, fisting and pressing against the skin underneath.
You had debated pulling up close to him, if that would provide a balm to his twinging soul.
“Bits and pieces,” You admitted, nodding your assent, pushing your cheek into your pillow.
He was always cautious here, as was, you admitted to yourself, needed. You appreciated it, and as he was, so were you.
The stress of your situation, though, was clearly pulling him apart. You feared it may cloud his judgment and hurry his hand as you planned your escape from this ship.
You stared up at the ceiling, tall and long-off, incredibly dark as your fiance spoke. “I don’t know if I’d… fit. I mean, I’ve never known how, exactly, to… Negotiate, I guess.”
Your job, then, as you’d decided in that instant, would be to soothe him. Not that it was much of a job with nothing to entertain your mind.
You made your decision and sidled up closer to him until you were sure he could feel your heat against his skin.
He looked back at you with care.
“Half of it is the talk leading up to the trade,” You brushed it aside, speaking quietly, “It’s easier, with practice.”
“No, I know- ‘anyone can do it,’” Hiccup said disagreeably, as if he was quoting someone, turning onto his own side. His father, maybe. “I just…”
His adam's apple bobbed, eyes darting to the side, shadow falling tumultuously across his face, expressing wistful tales of islands and troubles you hadn't ever been quite as well versed in, used to relationships that were of more of a fleeting quality and bonds that were never quite as close as they could have been.
“Not anyone can do it.” You returned, voice soothing, “Not everyone has the eye.”
You hummed, not quite sure how to explain it, not in simple terms. Not quite sure that that was what he needed.
There was also a marked difference between negotiation the way he probably knew it, as the son of a Chief having most likely been coached on negotiating war treaties and other things, and the way you did it, speaking slyly and running circles around others using foreign words.
You shook your head lightly, a bit difficult given your position, the meat of your cheek dragging against heavy cloth.
“It’s not just about persuasion, not only when it comes down to the trade- getting people to want you back,” You mumbled, “That’s the real trick. You can face any number of hurdles, you can have the most unsavory character anyone’s ever seen- but If they want it enough, patrons have a way of making it happen. You usually just need the right good.”
“I don’t know if I’d ever had a…”
“I remember- you took a particular interest in the anatomy books,” You ribbed at him, nudging him with your knuckle lightly, speaking in quiet whispers.
You remembered. It was after he’d become a mighty dragon slayer, when you’d treated him to a tour of your boat.
You never sold them to him, or tried. But you noticed his eyes, dancing across open pages and nude forms.
“I- aha, yeah,” Hiccup shook his head, eyes focused on his legs in fond remembrance, “I… Didn’t realize you noticed that.”
“I expected it,” You huffed, “You were only fifteen.”
“Are you sure?” He mumbled, the corners of his mouth twitching, “I remember you being young, too.”
Your fingers danced over the crook of his arm clumsily as you shifted under the covers.
“You don’t remember my age?” You hummed teasingly as Hiccup furrowed his brows, expression sardonic.
He lifted one hand, shifting fabrics loud in the relative groaning silence and held one side of your face with a warm palm.
He guided it towards his temple, his intention clear; to linger and relish in the press of your foreheads as you had done before, “We’re still young.”
You could have followed his lead, and you would have had you been in any normal state. Instead, following an unusual impulse, you pressed a heated kiss to his mouth instead.
He seemed a bit more lively, then.
As he exhaled, his throat vibrated, sharing a sligh, light groan from somewhere deep in his throat.
“Really?” Hiccup asked, lifting his head out of your reach as you let him free.
The scope of what he was asking was slightly lost on you. You hadn’t planned anything nearly as passionate or intimate as he’d probably been thinking, especially not as you’d made this decision, quick and last minute, but you would play it by ear.
You had been feeling a measure more amorous as of late. Especially since…
You hooked your arm over his waist, tugging at the hem of his tunic until he got the message and shifted, pulling himself over you.
For a brief, slightly unpleasant moment, you were exposed to the cold air, your blankets displaced by Hiccup’s moving body, his knee grazing over your middle and resting on your other side.
You hummed, pulling up your fingers and reaching under the back of his tunic, fingers running against the notches of his spine, then dropped your head back once more, a notable breath’s distance from where it had been, pressed close to Hiccup’s chest.
You had heard his heart pounding audibly then, deep and hurried as you nuzzled -prodded at- the very edge of his clothed chest with the softest part of your forehead.
While he was busy speaking, you pressed your lips to his collarbone, running your tongue along its most extruding part, tasting at slightly salty skin with light, brushing touches.
Hiccup’s next breath was shuddery, the shifting of his hips and the flexing of the muscles in his neck as he swallowed easily exposing his interest.
You could feel his lungs expand and contract, your palm pressed flat to his back.
Your own breathing was fast as you focused hard on his face, your periphery nearly invisible to you as you met with your eyes the few moles on his right cheek, the ones by his chin and the few just next to a faint, tiny scar below his lip.
You focused on the fading freckles across the bridge of his nose, a bit harder to make out under the dim light, the neutral green of his eyes and the lines in his irises as they disappeared, consumed by slowly expanding black pupils as in that moment of rest, Hiccup was finally able to press his forehead to yours, his crinkled brows meeting your own.
With one of your hands teasing the space where shoulder blade turned to spine, tracing the heated muscle there, flexed and stressed under nearly damp skin, and the other lifting from the hem of his pants to rub his side slowly and before then moving up, hooking under his arm so you could tease the long-ish, silk-soft hairs at his nape with your fingertips- he looked utterly debauched.
And it had only been a few kisses.
Hiccup adjusted his arms, then, resting them by the elbows at your sides, his soft eyelids drooping even as his brows were raised with surprise and skepticism.
“Now would be just as good a time as any,” You rolled your vowels and spoke in flats, too occupied to keep managing any sort of accent, bending your knee and shifting it, wiggling it until it met the core of his trousers, coaxing him further.
You paused, nearly out of breath for a few reasons you couldn’t quite name, in the moment just before you could speak again, sure your voice this time would be slightly deeper, prepared to speak in honeyed tones as Hiccup dipped his head, luring a catching breath from your own wet mouth.
You were still slightly weak. You weren’t sure you could do a great deal of running, but that was just fine for everything you had planned.
You tilted your head as he did, bobbing and pressing your nape into the stiff plush of your pillow.
The hairs on the back of your neck tingled in a way that told you they’d stood, prickling just barely against the stiff pillow beneath your head.
It must have been the grief that made everything that much sweeter; and the dread, tickling at your lowermost half.
You knew that this was perhaps an unwise course of action, fondling your fiance while you were in such subtle but immediate peril, though it might have been that the inopportune moment made it feel even more right.
There was so much burning, a tingling that lay over just the topmost layer of your skin by the back of your neck, hotly testing the lobes of your ears.
You panted, exhaling with a whistle that bordered on something much more feeling, inhaling deeply as Hiccup caught your bottom lip with his teeth before and as he pulled away.
It was just a light, accidental bite made just before he himself dipped again, the relaxed flat of his tongue tracing a path across its rim, teasing the wet, slick skin of your inner mouth.
You curled into yourself slightly as you felt it drag and as he separated, which had the odd side effect of pressing you further up into Hiccup.
Testing his luck, you felt tips of his teeth grazing against your earlobe, tracing it on either side just ever so slightly with hard enamel as you buried your head in his shoulder, resisting the urge to jerk as you pulled up your hand, the one you had resting on his back.
As it rose higher, it had the unintentional consequence of tugging up his shirt.
Your hand paused only when it was able to clutch at the top of his shoulder nearly without any real grip.
His breath nearly burned against the place where the soft skin of your ear turned ever softer and slightly more pliant. You didn’t turn your head or lean too much closer in case it smelt like fish, something you’d unfortunately found late in the previous day.
He’d need a bath soon, despite his peculiarly clean state.
You smothered a slightly amused breath, managing to turn it into something low and coy instead.
The fingers of one of your hands gently traced down the skin between his last hair and the collar of his tunic, his back shuddering, before raking your nails quickly, lightly down his side.
You could tell he was startled by the loss of solid contact as your nails drifted over his back as he spent those sparse moments leaning ever so slightly towards the empty, cool space left behind.
He might have spoken just before jerking as you pulled him towards you by the seam of his pants, hooking a finger under the fabric, knuckle brushing against soft belly skin once and then twice and again as you tugged his hips down towards your own.
You didn’t relent in your tugging until he pressed down, arms shaking lightly, pelvis shifting against you, the uneven, nearly urgent, horizontal twitching of his bottom half communicating his grieving need to move and press and mill himself into yours.
You were guilty, in this instance, of building moments and petting his skin as a tribute, a solid, real imitation of a vision you’d dreamed one time or a million.
In your fevered state you’d almost seemed to have lived pyretic, soft words spoken, gripping and prodding and heated ardor as you faded in and out of consciousness.
It was poetry in sliding action, promises of always-meaning-to-haves, and yet-without-he’d-yearneds, as he’d said to you while you were stuck in a deluded, mirage-wrought, fevered haze, storybook platitudes invented by a burdened body breathing through dry lips
It made things smolder within you, riling parts that were more appropriately silenced around good company.
Your delivered, fevered apparitions were in part what had soothed you, kept you complacent below deck as you’d been pulled from illness.
You willed that they also did some measure to soothe your fiance’s internal tumult, especially as the roiling above you grew more frenetic.
Your lips parted in between silent thrusts and hurried groans, Hiccup resting some of his weight back over his elbows, breath pressing against you as he placed his forehead against your collar, panting.
“I… Never thought that- we…” He started, in a way that nearly broke the spirit of the while, like a thin spider’s web, tension added and displaced by a wary, straying finger, “I never thought that this would ever- between the two of us…”
It took you a moment to formulate a response, distracted by the stillness of your hips and the still unwaning burn in your loins.
“You would've had me no matter what,” You stated plainly, in a way you felt was fact. You spoke a bit hurriedly, eager to get back to what you’d been doing before, though you still took the time to turn his words over in your head.
You wrinkled your brows, giving him a look that you felt mirrored the fond feeling blooming in your chest, pressing a dry, chase kiss to the place on his scalp where thick hair gave the illusion of a part and where he smelt slightly of dandruff and sweat, a scent that followed you slightly back to your pillow.
“I really would have, wouldn’t I?” Hiccup asked, lifting his head so the soft, slightly oily tuft of hair bleeding over his forehead ran against your face, before pressing a searing, open-mouthed kiss to yours, pushing down into you again.
You’d intended to tease his upper lip, however you were mildly surprised as his tongue slid messily against yours.
His touch, slick with saliva, sending sparks, sharp, unbearable, needy tingles down the middle of your body, from the bright spot in your chest where they’d been born down to the softest spot of your pelvis as you jerked upwards, gasping at nearly a keen.
Your quiet moment together was quickly and startlingly interrupted by a loud, prolonged grinding noise, nearly indistinguishable from a roar, and then there was a loud scream.
Though you knew better, were now familiar with the desperate screams of the few dragons aquatic enough to be blessed with sonar.
It sent an alarm running through your body, momentarily keeping you from thinking of anything substantial, jerking with sudden movement.
Nothing had ever rung so clearly through thick, sealed timber and large crate walls in all the long hours you’d been locked down here.
The very ground below you seemed to vibrate with the force of it. In fact, it did.
You hadn’t been sure this ship could move so strongly or so suddenly, not with its size and not in this weather, certainly not nearly as violent as what you’d known traveling in far more open waters.
You had both stiffened, and quickly Hiccup pulled himself away, half scrambling to his feet, prosthetic creaking loudly, your soft grip giving under the alarm that had imbued your limbs with momentary weakness.
“I’m going to check it out,” Hiccup said firmly, voice soft and nearly as deep, eyes trained on you, gaze simple.
You returned his gaze with a nod -an accepting one- proceeding the singular push he needed to stand and the few clumsy steps that followed, starting his sure run out from your hide, knowing that his dragon would follow even without signal.
You knew that should he find something wanting, your cover would be blown. You would wait until he gave you the signal to bolt, no matter how facile you felt as a result.
Still, though, you edged towards where your large coat had been hidden. It was just by a large crate behind your cot, placed on the side furthest from the entrance, the only thing besides it in the small, glib space you slept in.
The crate was not a part of the wall but set a few feet behind you like a distant headboard, reaching just above your waist in height.
For a while, you waited in silence, your ears straining as you tried to catch some audible glint of how far Hiccup had gone.
You spent another while -a long while- in silence, unsure of which second was which, one moment blurring into two until the light tapping of steps in the distance revealed you to his position.
He sprinted back quickly, steps loud and ringing without subtlety, which you took to mean that your position had been blown.
However, the loud-quiet calling of your name in frantic whispers, audible to you only as you strained your ears, had you hesitant.
Instead of grabbing your coat as you knew you should, you took a few hurried steps towards the entrance to your hideaway, standing, waiting to greet him.
As he reemerged from the maze of heavily nailed crates, you quickly moved back so he had room to rush in.
You noticed first the new lines of sweat which had quickly budded and started to make their way down his face and the rougher muss of his hair, which you hadn’t thought was possible after your previous intense, passionate encounter.
“There’s… Trouble. Again,” He said quickly, under his breath, speaking words that ran cold in your chest. “ …Someone is releasing the dragons.”
You raised two daunted brows, startled by a loud crashing noise.
Hiccup’s breath was caught quickly by a stern, inhaled hiss and you found yourself stepping back as your fiance turned and backed into you, half intentionally leading you back, his legs crouched and an arm out by his side and in front of one of your sides guardingly.
You stumbled over the cot and in quick succession found yourself thrown back by your own weight.
The wood was cold against your legs, your bottom half not as covered as you would have preferred had you been in any regular situation.
The tight stinging sensation of having fallen back against wood beneath you resonated throughout the meat of your thighs, the sharp corners of the crate behind poking into your back in sharp lines, like a paper folded over the edge of a table, one side hanging off.
The flames of his sword flickered dangerously near the wood walls around the both of you, lighting up the small space with a fuzzy, burning orange clarity.
You had not been certain where he’d had it, if he’d held it as he’d run out or if he’d swiped it as you’d fallen and he’d pressed his back close against your middle, though from the way he’d pulled and triggered the launch of the blade, you thought that it might have been hidden under one corner of your cot.
You waited with tension for a long, long moment before, with the creeping of flat blows against wood, you watched an imposing shadow creep into the frame of the entrance to your hiding place, growing ever so larger as whatever it was grew nearer.
In front of you, it covered half of the space covered by the open doorway. And then it paused.
Hiccup’s body fully over yours, feeling hot where everything else was distressingly cold.
For a moment it was just the heavy, lung-stressed breathing of your fiance that rang out in the emptiness of the hold, highlighted by the faint sounds of battle you must have been able to hear through an open door, nothing having been so clearly heard before.
Into your awareness then arose the dull noise of scraping against wood, the sound hollow and stifled by nature, occasionally highlighted by the just-barely-there rattle of some many small things.
They, the one, whoever it was- they must have followed your fiance back.
Along another pile of crates piled just out of the exit to your hide emerged a thinner shadow, pyrrhic in form, growing and shrinking, long and frightening just before the something-large overtook it.
You saw the beast first.
It was ginormous, not completely visible past the space leading towards the outside, though you could make out muddy gray-brown over corded flesh, the color of wet sand and the other kind, the dry kind that ate limbs and pulled you downwards into the deepest bowels of an ever-pressing hole, the kind people drowned in as their lungs and eyes were filled by heavy grain, impossible pressure all around them.
It had huge horns resembling a helmet or the towering metal fronds of a crown, placed upon its square head so that it looked like some monstrous baron or a shah. They teased the deepest shades of red, seeming to ooze as it crept like blood from an untreated wound, a scab raw and festering with infection along the edges.
Its colors were washed dark in the dim light, yet you could make out an amber underneath ivory, the sap consistent shade oddly mesmerizing against your fiance’s flickering firelit sword and as a foil to the complete and utter destruction ringing from a distance.
Four wicket ivory claws, the kinds hunters sold over foreign markets, scraped at the two pillars of crates on either of its sides.
You were unsure of how many limbs it boasted, though all of them framed the form of a tall figure in front, unbelievably thin, covered in tawdry leather-wrapped armor.
A mask, painted light blue over something darker, adorned its face, eyes like sunken voids, carved deep into its skull.
Its structure was overall insectoid with two outwards-facing mandibles, different and yet in mimic of the classical, draconic representations of foe that wreaked through the archipelago like a disease.
It- the figure- was holding a staff with two hooks on either end made of bone, which must have been what scraped along the floor so petrifyingly. Like hanging spice and bunches of rotting fruit hung small, hollow, jejune bundles of what must have been bone, each small part rattling vaguely against another.
Its stance was oddly composed for a creature dressed so wildly.
Their shadow was thrown over your cautious, cowering form, pressed into the uneven side of a crate to your back, incredibly tense in the wordless silence
You voiced your cautions through wordless sounds in the back of your throat, more exhale than corded vibration.
“Stormcutter,” Hiccup said to you, under his breath, voice deep with warning meant for the intruders in front, his eyes never leaving them, arm pressed further against your middle as he held himself in front and against you, who was nearly completely covered by him.
All of your eyes remained trained stoutly on one another, a loud clash and the sound of metal on metal ringing on a scale of violent proportions sound through the empty air from above, muffled by wood.
There was yelling as the boat rocked violently, Hiccup nearly stumbling onto his side, couched as he was, elbows digging into your sides in an effort to stay pressed in front of you and to keep the blade of his sword an appropriate distance away.
That was until, from the darkness, there rose a rumbling, feral growl, seeming to come from all around, sound thrown as Toothless revealed himself behind you.
He was only discernible to you through the cracking sound of jagged dragon nail scraping against and punching through wood.
An intense buzzing precluded the casting of a sickly purple light lengthening the deepest of shadows in the cracks of the wood around you, an intense crackling emanating from where his maw must have been.
The masked warrior seemed to fall back as the Night Fury spat, his hiss deep and intense and frightening as they brought their arm up warily to shield their chest.
Your fiance’s steed at that instant embodied the myths and legends from back on his home island, an ancient wrath born from hundreds of years of fear, retribution and silent cries from the long lost to fog. Men torn to shreds and abandoned without sign as to what could have led to their demise, stirring up old dread like the feeling of ice biting and numbing at the limbs, like Vikings huddled and shivering in their cabins, cut off from anything else left living as the moonless sky ate lone men, traveling from beyond the horizon and into the treeline.
There was no true way to communicate what the Fury was without words, melted so deeply into the shadows, not without the sightless whistling in the night that was its calling card. Its background became a lost history to the estranged, a tall tale for only scared ears to hear whenever it was out of the sky.
Your attacker paused.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Hiccup nodded at the silent figure wryly. “My name's- none of your business, and that’s…”
He shrugged his shoulder back against you,
“-Don’t tell them my name,” You grumbled, nearly whispering, hands curling around the crumpled tunic sleeve covering his bicep, his shoulder digging nearly uncomfortably into your chest.
Hiccup grunted in response.
An elaborate web of deep throated clucking, the vague shifting of their staff and the pounding of its bottommost hook against the wood in tune with a few dry snaps meant that the large Stormcutter quickly turned from hostile to complacent. Still, you kept a heedful eye on it.
Your fiance coughed awkwardly, “If you could leave us alone, that would be great.”
“...We’re castaways,” You added helpfully, voice even as you narrowed your eyes.
As he spoke, the warrior’s dragon’s throat seemed to undulate, the closest thing it could have to an adam’s apple, a large muscled knot, bobbing quickly up and down, extruding and dipping under its fireproof scaling until the head of it -the beast- jerked forwards, mouth opening and grotesquely regurgitating a tall pile of fish.
A peace offering?
It seemed that the term ‘ruthless’ had been a misnomer as Toothless fell to the wood floor with a heavy beat, his drop causing the muscles in your wrists to flex and tense.
He looked at the pile cautiously, sliding past you looking skin to a large, inky shifting of scale-like darkness before sitting firmly on the floor, cooing at Hiccup with release, deciding unanimously for the two of you that the ship's attackers must not be a threat after all.
You remained stiff until your fiance himself relaxed. You'd had more faith in his judgment than a dragon easily able to be swayed by fish, which was a sort of fallacy, given your fiance himself trusted the instincts of a dragon more than any man’s, even his own.
“Alright, fine,” Your fiance groaned defeatedly, “It’s gang up on Hiccup day today, isn’t it?”
You rubbed your eyes, feeling refreshed as the crowing and chirruping of dragons filled the space around you, shaking away a deep, light yawn, the corners of your mouth stinging with feeling even as they’d tempered and your lips closed.
Shaking off the remnants of your kip, you kneeled in the grass, holding the thin, wide leaf of a fern in your hands, petals brushing against your palm. In a world full of intrigue and strife, here you found yourself more interested in the smaller things.
Between your toes, clovers peeked up at the glassy ice-covered sky, a large, geometric dome that seemed to completely encase everything, filtering in light like you’d imagined, as a kid, how fairies might glow, small and skittish and mean.
The leaves of the plants below, feeling dull yet shining with dew, were damp and tickled at your feet, feeling every so delicate and yet strong.
The feeling sent shivers up your spine, somewhat uncomfortably.
You marveled at it, at how the grass, a few measures further from you, dotted in patches around the field of three-leaved sprouts, seemed to beat, breathing and bowing in tune with everything else in the large main chamber of your fiance’s mother’s Sanctuary.
To your left churred a large yellow dragon with purple spots and an armored belly in lighter, beige tones, sharp metal-like bonemail pumping with its lungs, shoulders flexing, thick lower arms and brutally thin neck covered in scales floundering like sand beneath your feet.
Smaller, multicolored young dragons, some with obscenely large heads for their tiny bodies, waddled by on large feet, nearly too fast for you to make out; green one with orange, blunt, triangular spines, a slow, clumsy red one, eyes big and blue and sad and a much larger purple.
Far, far down below a rainbow gaggle of dragons gathered, crouched over large piles of rocks, sharing intimate touches, standing protectively over what must have been young, or perhaps eggs, which to you tended to not think made much of a difference.
A dragon was just as protective of her clutch as she was of her breathing young, though the same couldn’t be said for anything that hadn’t yet been laid.
From hidden observation, you knew a carrying dragon showed no worry or abandon, fighting and hunting just as actively as any other, though there seemed to be no fighting here.
Still, in that instant you yearned for your spyglass.
You smiled slyly.
The black, saddle-less, featureless form of a dragon bobbing and bowing, swiping playfully at another twice his size, a ginormous dragon with gray skin and imposing red horns in the shape of a ram, so wide and thick they nearly covered its eyes.
It seemed quite annoyed, large bulky feet pounding against first soundlessly from where you stood, large maw bobbing open and closed as if to preclude a roar though none ever came.
You peered around again, the feeling of it filled you with joy as you looked over the array of dragons playing together in the lush greenery of the sanctuary by the main pool, large and deep, which you knew funneled into the ocean.
You were an ant compared to the huge, towering pillars of ice surrounding you. The thin leather draped across your body shifted with you, blowing and moving with a breeze drifting swiftly in from your left, where lay the eye-squinting-ly bright entrance into the giant ice fortress, shining like a sun to your simple light-unadjusted gaze.
You were one of many things here. A singular being, a blade of grass, a heartbeat, one of many limbs, each united by simple needs.
Eventually, when you found it important, and the feeling of damp clover between your toes and against the soles of your feet grew to be too much, you bent slowly, lazily grabbing for your staff, nearly hidden under a canopy of greens.
Its bone hook was ribbed on the inside of its curve, shaped like a hook, both glossy and matte in patches, one of your Fiance’s mother’s old pairs. It had naught but a small bone blade on the other end, a spike you’d found useful in picking apart ice, when you’d been allowed.
You’d gotten no glimpse of the great king ice beast with which you’d felt so connected, but that was just fine. Swept away by your emotions, you felt that in this moment all things had happened as they’d been meant to.
You brushed the hook of it across the grass floor of the sanctuary and scanned the bright green bedding of the cold earth below, searching and yet not at the same time, heart open to the wonder and marvel of the scenery around you.
Your hurriedly padded across the landing, running towards smooth, uneven basalt flooring over worse-feeling moss, uncomfortably fuzz and grabbing and clumped in what you thought to be the worst way, slowing down just in time to step calmly onto stone, the wetness clinging to your soles posing a slight danger now that you were on smooth ground.
You expired, rotating your shoulders in an effort to be rid of your jitters and began your walk towards the geometric columns forming the entrance to your temporary cove-resting-spot.
It was not unlike a large, open cavern hole, an uneven maw lined by even more columns. Hanging vines and moss provided a measure of privacy, acting as some semblance of a curtain.
Though some leaves and other plant bits clung to your feet, you kept at an even pace, perhaps to protect what dignity you had left, mussed and undone as you were as you approached your fiance. You knew that as you stepped over dry land they would fall off as sand did when you moved from beach to inner island.
You scrubbed your feet lightly against stone, hoping to get rid of the last of the unsavory bits clinging to your heels and your left big toe before you pushed aside living curtains.
The knuckle side of your free hand pushed against spindly vines. You were careful not to make too much noise as you padded across the darker space.
It was a cave unlike the one your fiance's mother stayed in, surrounded and protected by hard ice.
Yours had been built by stone and garbed in a moss blanket, ferns and vegetation growing out the cracks between rocks like weeds
There was not a lot of light inside, mostly due to the lack of windows.
It was an area that was much larger than you’d needed, equally as green as the largest connected chamber yet covered more so by moss than anything else.
A small, trickling fall lay at one end, on the side in the back to the left of where you had set your things, pouring from a small hole in a column that was much higher than, most likely, you and Hiccup stacked vertically together.
The stream that flowed beneath it, thin and following a path carved by ancient waters, trickled into a smaller opening in the wall, too small for you to even get a glimpse into the inside even best over on your knees.
Along the rugged wall lining the left side of the cave was where you’d lain your chest.
Your fiance was much too worried to bring any of your things from the ice enclave into the hunter’s ship- he could not manage a chest with you nearly dead from cold- but his mother had been generous enough to find it with direction and quickly carry it back to your dwelling.
Of course she had done it hastefully, as travel was much quicker on the backs of dragons, though you couldn’t help but to watch her as she moved around the two of you, circling like an anxious animal, appeasing and peculiar.
You wondered if that was her way of trying to ameliorate, to compensate for the time she had given up with her son and to earn a small amount of favor from you, his fiance and future spouse.
She seemed, also, incredibly cautious of you and oddly protective of Toothless, who she’d had no prior relationship with, as if you might pose a threat to her sanctuary. It had risen a scale of uneasiness in Hiccup that made their interactions seem distant.
It wasn’t something that worried you. How you took in your fiance’s mother all depended on him. You had no particularly strong feelings on the matter, so at one point you decided you would follow his lead, whatever he chose, until she gave you a reason not to.
If you’d wanted to leave and the two of you had been on good terms, a cheap fare should be enough to get you to Berk, if she flew you far enough. You’d be able to get leather to repair Toothless’ tailfin at almost any port.
Before you lay a new pile of beddings, equally thin as the ones you’d laid with in the bay of the dragon trapper’s ship though this pile was much more comfortable.
Hiccup was still laying under his covers. He was an early riser, though not as early a riser as you, who had also slept deep and stayed under the covers much longer than your internal clock would usually allow.
The only thing covered by a blanket was his waist, though his limbs were thrown about in a way that obscured his face, his body facing his right, legs bent, one pulled in front of the other, an arm thrown across his jaw so that you could see nothing but mussed auburn.
It was out of character for your fiance, who you’d come to know as a still sleeper. The exhaustion and all of the excitement must have affected him deeply, down to the very bone.
His position was slightly different to the one you’d left him in, facing the ceiling though no less spread. It was definitely possible you had woken him up for a moment, or nary even but still long enough to shift, as you’d gone out to take some fresh air, leaving a rustled quilt in your wake, blankets folded over in odd places as you’d thrown them aside.
You strode quietly up to his side. It was the one closest to the edge of his side of the bedding, with his prosthetic sitting simply parallel to the place softer blanket melted into stone, which you could navigate to easiest before carefully stepping over him with one foot.
You hummed lightly again, wordlessly and stood over him, watching him twitch and earring the low grumble of a sleepy grown in his voice as he turned onto his back.
His eyes opened just a sliver, stuck with sleep and limited in motion by the hair that threatened to tickle his lids if he moved too suddenly, before gently, slowly closing again.
“My dear future spouse,” You hummed as you lowered yourself over him, bending your knees until they rested against layered blankets.
Then you slid the rest of you across his body, stilling and resting your weight mostly against his lower middle and leaned forward, pressing your hands over the blankets on both sides of his neck.
After a moment of nothing, you bowed further, mirroring the actions Hiccup had taken just the last day and settling on your elbows.
You let your fingers graze along Hiccup’s cheek, touching him just barely by the tip of your nail, watching the muscles in his jaw stiffen and his eyelids clench lightly as you purposely pressed fully to his chest with your own.
You pulled him away from his feigned sleep with ease, catching relaxed lips by a simple kiss, pulling back and going back for seconds, running your tongue along the inside of his lips just barely and feeling as they finally tensed and pressed back.
When you parted, he chased you up, neck craning to follow as you stayed just barely out of his reach.
His thighs didn’t brace behind you the way they needed to keep him up, which you could feel from your place over his crotch, legs pressed to his sides, which meant that Hiccup dropped back onto your cot with a grunt, unprepared to lift himself up.
He clearly didn’t expect you to pull back so far.
You shifted over his lap again, leaning down again.
He followed you up this time, lured like a fish on a hook, his right hand bracing against the ground behind him, another coming up to weave its way to the back of your head.
After another moment, pulled his right hand from your head and laid it lightly on your thigh in a way that allowed his thumb to feel as if it were just barely tickling the inside of it.
You felt at the soft press of open lips, his chapped in places, mouths rolling against each other as his thumb twitched, feeling as if it was nearly sparking against skin.
As you distributed most of your weight onto your knees, you rotated your hips over his groin in a balmy manner, feeling his hand spasm against your thigh.
Hiccup bucked up slightly, grunting.
“...Am I dreaming?” Hiccup blinked groggily as you parted, your hand by his jaw, the tips of your fingers threaded into russet hair gently guiding his face back.
His voice was slightly husky, clumsy with grogginess, still-dazed eyes quite obviously conveying his confusion yet also showing no real hesitance.
“Your dragon’s causing trouble again,” You said, voice tinged with pleasure, “You’d better get him soon.”
Hiccup groaned, letting himself fall back down with a thick puff, “What does he want?”
“That is for you to figure out,” You spoke with a light laugh, light.
Hiccup shifted into a more comfortable sitting position as you stood up and stepped back over onto stone, shaking off the strain in your legs.
You huffed with amusement, chuckling lowly as Hiccup nearly stumbled, forgetting to pull on his prosthetic as he tried to haul himself up.
You nudged it towards him with your foot.
“Let me get ready,” Hiccup grumbled sourly.
“Don’t forget to send for your father,” You sang, “There’s a lot the few of you need to discuss… And much for you to make up for.”
#httyd#how to train your dragon#x reader#fanfiction#hiccup haddock#hiccup x reader#httyd imagine#gender neutral reader#fem reader
97 notes
·
View notes
Text
🗡️ Something Dread, Something Red: Chapter Eight
Something Dread, Something Red: Stuck in a proposal to a Marine Commodore, you escape minutes before your wedding in one last ditch effort to avoid getting married to a tyrant. Barely making it to the port of your town, you stumble across a ship just starting to leave and beg for passage off the island. You fail to notice that the people you beg for help, are pirates.
Warnings: None.
To Note: “Red Haired” Shanks x FemReader
Word Count: ~2.5k
Previous | Masterlist | Next
It was the last day the crew would be spending on the island and the men had left you in the bar while they got the supplies loaded onto the ship. You didn’t mind as you were mending some torn clothes of theirs while chatting with the woman who owned the bar. Her name was Cerise and she was well informed on the Red Haired Pirates. At least that is what you had surmised, she and the crew were on good terms and joked with each other. The Red Force had stopped on this island before and their faces were well known in these parts.
Setting Yasopp’s now mended sash, he’d torn it while getting into a scuffle with some vagabond down at the docks he’d told you, you moved on to Lucky’s favorite striped shirt. The cook owned many striped shirts as you had found out doing the laundry, but how he’d chosen this one to be his favorite was beyond you. Perhaps it was because of the stain at the bottom. None of his other shirts had a stain like it, or perhaps it was the most worn in and felt nice upon his skin. You couldn’t figure it out, no matter how long you pondered on such topic and simply deduced it to be a male thing.
Or perhaps a pirate thing?
“Certainly not in my repertoire,” You softly said, reaching for a string color in the set you’d been provided that best matched the stripes. Lucky Roux was lucky that his shirt had ripped at the edge of one of the stripes, you could easily hide the repair with your skill set. At least your mother’s intensive needlework lessons were finally coming in handy. Something about repairing clothings was far more therapeutic for you than mindlessly stitching on a circle loom in some fancy design that would never see the light of day. You liked feeling useful around the ship, it made you feel less guilty about being there in the first place. “I told them I only needed passage, not a place to live on board their ship.”
“Oh they’d never give passage to a woman in distress and then just drop her off at the nearest port,” Cerise commented, walking over while drying her hands with a towel. “I’ve known those boys for twenty some odd years. Shanks isn’t setting you go free because he knows you still need help.”
You paused in your mending, lowering your hands to your lap while contemplating her words. She had a point, Shanks was an honorable man and wouldn’t just ditch you the moment he’d completed what you had asked of him. He hadn’t even wanted to take your pendant as payment! Yes, he’d taken you on board and had kept you with him and his crew for three weeks without asking for a single thing.
“I feel like I can take care of myself,” You stated, your eyebrows pinching ever so slightly. “I am not well versed in living by myself but I am not an invalid nor am I entirely naive to how our world works. All I needed from them was safe passage off Kuri Island, nothing more.”
“You are under the assumption that you have to do everything yourself, Aria,” Cerise wisely informed you, observing you sitting regally on a barstool. Your posture stood out and clearly marked you as someone who didn’t belong in her bar. “Do you want some advice from an old woman who’s seen a thing or two.”
“I would be honored,” You replied, giving her your full attention. If anything, you knew that Cerise’s words were both law and religion to be heeded by everyone in Ingles. When she spoke you listened.
“The Red Haired Pirates are pirates at heart, the sea is their calling and they will never be tied down by anything or anyone.” Cerise started in a frank tone. “They’re fully capable of taking care of themselves, cleaning up after their messes, and mending their own clothing.” Her chin nodded to the shirt in your lap. “The only reason why they’re lettin’ you clean up and take care of them is because they want you to feel comfortable on the ship, and if that means you’re doin’ their laundry and mending their clothes so be it.”
“They’re… letting me…?” You repeated, trying to control your tone and voice so you didn’t show off how upset you were to know this. You wanted to pull your weight on the ship! Not do things because they let you!! Cerise could see the way your eyes flashed in anger and teeth ground together. You were quite good at controlling your emotions but she had decades to read people. Leaning against the bar, she pat your hand gripping your water glass.
“Don’t take that the wrong way, missy. They might be pirates but they are gentlemen and no woman is going to be cleaning up after them because it’s a societal expectation.” You pursed your lips and breathed out through your nose, reigning in your temper.
“I’m essentially freeloading abroad their ship, eating and drinking their supplies, using their facilities and bed… and the only reason why I think I’m pulling some of my weight is because they are allowing me to do so?” Your face was painfully hot and mind was seething. It wasn’t quite betrayal material to you, but your heart was very much injured by this knowledge. Was there anything in your life that you were doing because you wanted to and not because someone else was allowing you to do it?
“Now don’t be getting upset that the gentlemen want to be gentlemen,” Cerise tutted at you sternly. “Besides, it won’t do to have you jump right into an independent life. You’ll get overwhelmed and get yourself into trouble. Sea Lord knows you’ve got the beauty for it. They’re easing you into your knew life in a responsible way. You’re lucky to have encountered as honorable men as they are.”
“I just wanted to be treated like every other person,” You said dejectedly, dropping your head into your hand and pushing your nails into your scalp. Cerise hummed at you and went back to cutting up slices of lime and lemon for the night rush.
“Oh dear, they are,” She stated. “They treat everyone with the respect that is expected and earned. It is nothing personal to you and your situation. Let them help you, and sneak in things to help them. Just don’t get caught.” You eyed the older woman at her last comment.
“Are you telling me to sneak behind their backs?” Cerise shrugged and waved her paring knife around.
“They’re men, not always the brightest in situations and can be too stupid to take care of themselves at times.” You could agree with that statement. You had watched Hongo argue with Lucky Roux over a cut he’d gotten trying to juggle knives. It’d taken three days before the cook had finally relented to putting a simple bandage on it so it didn’t get infected. “It’s also our job as woman to mother them, make them remember that they aren’t invincible and having someone take care of them is just as rewarding as it is for them to take care of us. Give and take, girl, no one has to do everything by themself.”
“You have a point, but the most I can do is sew.” Your skills with sewing were actually pretty well honed… but where did sewing have a place on a ship besides mending clothing? “I don’t even know how to cook.”
“Well that’s a place to start, learning to feed yourself,” Cerise mused, eyes flickering to the faded oak clock hanging above the bar. It’d seen its fair share of drunk bar fights and revelry. Had even weathered through being knocked off the wall a time or too. “Tell yea what, Aria,” Cerise started, head tilted to the side in contemplation. “Dinner rush isn’t for another two hours, you come back with me and I’ll put you through my mothers ringer,”
“Your mother’s ringer?” You repeated in confusion.
“Aye, culinary boot camp.”
Tears were streaming down your face, welling from your eyes and dripping down your cheeks as you struggled to continue with your lesson. But your eyes were stinging so bad! You were fairly certain at this point that what Cerise had you doing could be utilized for torture, not cooking purposes. Who knew simply cutting this root vegetable would cause so much pain and tears?
“Ow,” You weakly muttered, rubbing your watery eye for the thousandth time with the back of your hand. Even with your eyes watering so heavily that it looked like you had been sobbing, you were still persistent in finishing cutting up the onions Cerise had planted in front of you and ordered to chop.
They all had to be cut a certain way, she had told you. Showing you the basic knife skill with the first onion of your lesson. It hadn’t looked hard, you actually felt comfortable holding the knife, that is until the sting in your eyes bloomed and the tears came. Oh how it burned and oh the look Cerise had given you when you paused in your chopping. A strict teacher she was.
“The faster you cut, the quicker the tears will leave,” She had told you, standing across the table from you and chopping vegetable after vegetable without so much as a stutter. You were in awe at how fast she could chop vegetables, barely even glancing at the produce she was cutting. On the bar menu tonight was an Ingles town soup made from vegetables and lamp, the staple meat on the island. According to the Bar Mistress, a large batch was made and once it was gone, it was gone.
It was quite the popular soup among the regulars, meaning the bar was going to be packed and the drinks flowing. So you were going to continue cutting these damn onions until you had no tears left in your body, and then continue cutting. She might be teaching you how to cook, but you were eager to contribute and pull your weight for once… and that apparently meant cutting an endless amount of onions. You’d get good at cutting onions by the end of this at least.
Additionally you could learn to wield a blade by learning how to cook you wouldn’t be entirely defenseless before you learned how to defend yourself. Not exactly a sword but a knife was better than a hair pin. Blinking several more tears away from your eyes, you focused back on the onion you were currently chopping. Chop. Peel. Slice. You had to constantly remind yourself to focus where your blade was going. The three nicks you had on your fingers were proof of that.
Shifting your grip on the knife, you finished chopping the onion and gathered the slices to drop into the large bowl next to you. Grabbing the next onion, because Cerise happily dumped another basket of onions next to you, you repeated the same process as you had before.
“Not to be rude, but how is this teaching me how to cook?” You asked, your head tilting to the side as you peeled the halved onion in front of you. Cerise chuckled at your words and lifted a large bowl full of cut vegetables to dump it in an even larger pot.
“Chopping vegetables is a large part of cooking easy meals on ships.” Cerise explained. “Get you comfortable with knives and that’s one hurdle that won’t hold you back. Prepping ingredients is also a good idea, keeps your kitchen clean and saves time. I’ve got a soup and stew book I’ll give you. I taught you every thing you need to know to cook the recipes in the book earlier and I’m sure that by watching Lucky Roux, you can pick up more skills.”
“Well I think I can manage to cook scrambled eggs,” You admitted, wondering how many eggs you had cracked by now. At least you’d gotten good at doing that. “Lucky lets me crack the eggs in the morning before Shanks is up, sometimes let me cook the pre cooked breakfast sausage. I burned myself on the cooktop once and he forbade me from going within three paces for a week after that.”
“Aye, told yea the men were protective. You just have to be firm with them and they’ll eventually see reason.” Cerise said while lighting the giant stove beneath the equally giant pot. The kitchen was soon filled with the soft crackles of vegetables sautéing. While the older woman fussed over the cooking vegetables, you finally cut up the rest of the onions without further incident, much to the relief of your fingers and eyes. You carried the bowl of onions over the large pot and dropped the sliced onions into the pot to be cooked as well.
“So I understand everything you’ve taught me about soups and stews, and you’re going to give me a few books to read… but seasoning is a large part of cooking and I don’t even know what half the spices are in Lucky’s cabinet.” Your nose wrinkled at the picture of Lucky’s spice cabinet. He kept it meticulously organized and alphabetized. That was helpful when learning but it didn’t help you in using such spices. “Do I just taste them raw and see what goes well flavor wise?”
“If yea like bad flavor,” She answered dryly before turning to face you. “In your case, I’d suggest following recipes, note what spices are in it to develop the flavor profile. Then, when you are comfortable, you can start dabbling. Like mint goes well with artichoke, and cumin with chicken. It’s about what you like, what did you like to eat growing up?” Your brain froze for a moment.
Freedom of food choice was still a novel idea to you. You didn’t know what you liked or disliked because your mother fed you what she decided. You had a few food items that you positively loathed due to your mother, but you’d never had the luxury of deciding to eat or not eat something based on flavor and like alone.
“I… don’t really know,” You admitted with a soft shrug of your shoulders. “My mother controlled my diet until I left three weeks past. I don’t have many memories of foods that I enjoyed eating. It was mostly out of necessity.” Cerise hummed in understanding and paused to think. She had a basic understanding of your situation thanks to a quick word from Shanks, Hongo was trying to ease your stomach into new foods so you didn’t get sick like you had the first week on board the Red Force. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t have small bites here and there.
“I’d suggest that you try bites of food from different dishes to see what you like and don’t like then, Aria. Not big bites mind you, sneaky ones so you don’t get Shanks or Hongo on the up and up… but just enough to taste.” That was actually a good idea. Nodding your head in agreement, you smiled, pleased that you had a plan for once. You felt better about staying on the Red Force now. The idea of leaning on the men for help was still difficult for you, but learning to cook put wind back in your sails.
Date Published: 1/20/24
Last Edit: 1/20/24
Previous | Masterlist | Next
84 notes
·
View notes
Text
I hate that damned movie.
Vance doesn’t like asking for affection. His ego is WAY too big. so he’s gonna scare it out of you instead.
Pairing: Vance Hopper x GN! Reader
Word Count: 1254
Warnings: Language, 🧿, 🌸
“I can't believe you made me watch that.” You said as you walked hand in hand with Vance.
“I can't believe you've never seen it!” He said with a hint of surprise in his voice. One thing Vance loved was making you scared. Scary movies? Yep. Sneaking up behind you? Check. Calling you in the middle of the night saying he sees you? Definitely. Making you watch Jaws, then taking you to a lake to swim so you will huddle up in his arms because of the “sharks”? Welp, that was his plan this time.
“Seriously, Vance. Last night I was trying to take a bath but I couldn't because I thought a shark was going to eat me. So thank you.” You said with sarcasm lacing your tone. You knew why he did it. You didn't mind clinging to him, but his ego is too big to ask. Instead, he makes you watch a stupid horror movie, the kind that scares the living shit out of you so that you are forced to shove your face in his arm
“You are so fuckin welcome” Vance chuckled out loud. He would have made a witty quip if he wasn't so concerned about where he was. He looked around, trying to find the familiar dirt path in the lush, green, forest. He wasn't was lost, just too distracted by the idea of you shaking in his arms. This was his most genius idea yet, surprised himself when he thought of it. I mean, you were the smart one, you came up with all the good date ideas. All he did was tag along. You pretty much-planned everything. The food, how you would get there, what you were going to do, who was going to be there so Vance wouldn't get in a fight. That last one really only worked 50% of the time. Vance looked around some more trying to find the familiar stone that looked like a V. This place was pretty much sacred to him, it's where his mom used to take him as a kid when they needed to get away from his father. Those were bitter-sweet memories. So this was really big for him. But he was willing to share it with someone who was a big part of his life.
“Oh Hey! That stone looks like a heart!” You mused
“No it looks like a V.” He retorted
“A V is just a thin heart.” You said back. The look you gave him said, “ I'm cute so you have to agree with me”. He had to agree with you, because well… He didn't know why, maybe he was just feeling generous today.
“Your right it's a heart, now come on that's the path”. Vance agreed, pulling you towards the path.
“So where are you taking me anyways?” You questioned. You had never seen this place or even heard him talk about it. The way he made his way through the forest made it seem like he had been here 100 times. ‘I swear to god, Vance Hopper if you lead me to some haunted cabin in the words I'm gonna-’
“We’re here.” He announced. You didn't know where he had taken you but it was beautiful. It was an enchanting view. The Colorado pines were so tall, and they made everything smell like Christmas. The crystal clear, bright blue water shimmered like glass in the sun. It was so clear that you could see the ridged stones bunched up together. Your hand slowly slid out of Vance's as you walked off onto the creaky, old, wooden dock. You marveled at the view, “this is a lot better than a haunted cabin in the woods” you whispered to yourself. You were about to say something to Vance until you heard loud stomping noise behind you.
“WOOHOO!” Vance shouted as he jumped into the water, splashing you when he landed. Laughing, you shook head, ‘what a kid’. Your joy ended up quickly when he didn't come back up.
“Vance?” You called out. No answer.
“Stop messing around and come back up.” You demanded. Still no answer. At this point, you were becoming very distraught. ‘Why hasn't he come up yet?’
“Vance!” You yelled. You were freaking out at this point. You got on your hands and knees, looking down into the water searching for a single glimpse of gold.
“WRHAA!”
“AHHH!” You screamed and fell backwards on your ass.
“VANCE HOPPER! YOU SON OF A BITCH!” You thundered. He fell back into the water, laughing hysterically. Your heart was going 100 miles an hour, it felt like it was going to jump out of your chest. You were so mad at him right now. You knew he was going to do something like this. He was so irritating sometimes.
Your thoughts did a complete 180 when you saw him swimming around and laughing. Laughing loud too. It was very rare that you saw him like this. Usually, you were the one laughing at something, he would just let out his “cool guy” chuckle. As you stared, he continued to move his arms in a circular motion swimming backward. You loved his smile because you knew he was genuinely happy when he was, and that made you happy. Your eyes moved to his wet hair. It was still curly, but dark and flat instead of golden and poofy. His bangs stuck to his forehead, and the ends of his hair flowed in the water. Then your eyes moved a little lower to his-
“You gonna get in or you just gonna sit there and stare?” Vance mocked. You had been caught. He caught you. You noticed that he caught you. He noticed that you noticed. Your face became warmer than the summer sun. ‘How embarrassing, i’m going to go die in a hole now.’ You got up from the dock and walked back to your things. to try to get rid of this feverish feeling you had. You looked at his clothes, carelessly piled up in a bunch on the dirt. ‘wait.’
“Yes, I have shorts on!” He shouted out, basically sensing your panic. You gave a nervous chuckle before taking off your own clothes. You hung up your clothes on a nearby tree branch right before walking back to the edge of the dock.
“I’m not jumping in by the way.” You informed him
“What? Why not just jump in? You’re not scared are you?” Vance said slyly.
“No, I'm not scared! I just don't want to get in right now.” You defended, avoiding his eyes
“I didn't come here to be watched by you like some stalker” He retorted. ‘I hate him’ you thought to yourself ‘that's not true I actually really like him, damn feelings’. You mentally punched yourself as you sighed. You picked yourself up and took a few steps back. You then took a few quick steps forward and jumped far out into the water. ‘Please don’t be cold’. You crashed into the water, immediately tensing up from the contact. ‘Oh great, it’s cold.’ You quickly rushed to the surface, gasping for air. You swam over to where you could touch, just a little closer to the dock than Vance. He gave you a genuine smile, and you smiled back taking in this moment because you knew you weren’t going to have it forever. It was a perfect moment, Just you and him, but you know, he has to ruin everything.
“SHARK!” Vance screamed while pointing out into the open. The amount of fear your felt at that moment was ASTRONOMICAL. You basically leapt onto Vance, looking around the water while subconsciously climbing up him as your attempt to get out. ‘This is a lake Y/N’. Your fear shortly turned into irritation as you slowly turned to face him.
“I hate that damned movie.” You hissed as you glared at him “and I hate you.”
“Yeah whatever, you fuckin liar” He then grabbed your face into his hands. Who leaned in first? He doesn't know, but that doesn’t matter. ‘Mission accomplished’.
—————————————————————————
A/N- I wrote this at 5 in the morning yesterday while i was sick so some of it might not make sense. but this story kind of goes along with my main Vance hopper x reader story. But i hope you enjoyed. Luv yuh- ♡g
#vance hopper x you#vance hopper#vance hopper x reader#jaws#theblackphone#fanfic#fanfiction#oneshot#fluff#Spotify
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader: Fake Wedding Date
A little fake dating with Rafe... slay or whatever
Sadie - Rafe's cousin
Y/N = Your First Name & L/N = Last Name
~ some characters are from the TV show, Outer Banks
Y/N's POV
I hear someone knock and I turn to see Rafe walk into my bedroom.
I ask, "Wait? I thought we were hanging out tomorrow. Did I forget something? What happened? Are you okay? And how did you get in?"
Rafe smiles and answers, "Your parents let me in. Nothing big happened and I am okay, but I need your help."
I ask, "Of course, with what?"
He sits next to me on my bed, leans back, and says, "My cousin, Sadie, is getting married this weekend. I told her 6 months ago that I had a girlfriend and she gave me a plus one for her wedding. I don't have a girlfriend and when I saw Sadie last weekend, I told her that you and I were hanging out, and she assumed you were my girlfriend that I have been dating for over 6 months. So, are you free this weekend?"
I answer, "You're insane, you do know that, right?"
He asks, "What else am I supposed to do?"
I answer, "Be honest with Sadie?"
He smirks and says, "That wasn't a yes or no answer. So, are you free this weekend?"
I lean back and ask, "Yeah, I am free and I can be your girlfriend for the weekend."
He smiles and then starts diving into what I should know about this weekend and what his cousin knows about me/his girlfriend.
Rafe's POV - Saturday Morning
I look around at the dock for where Y/N is. She's supposed to meet me here before we go onto the ferry. She's always early to everything and it's 5 minutes early right now. Where is she? Is she okay? Should I call her? Do I wait 5 minutes?
I hear, "Wow Rafe, what has got you so worked up?"
It's her voice. I turn, see her, and hug her tightly. Y/N exclaims, "Um ... hi to you too. I did see you yesterday. Are you okay, Rafe?"
I pull away from her and answer, "I was just worried because I didn't see you yet. You're always early to everything and I thought something was wrong or you backed out."
She smiles and says, "Oh well, that was thoughtful of you. I'm okay and I'm here. It's all okay now."
We find my family on the ferry and the shock on their faces is priceless. They knew Y/N because she'd been my friend for years, but they didn't know who my plus one would be. Sarah knows about my crush on Y/N, but I told her not to say anything. It's funny how they're staring, but I'm sure it's weirding Y/N out.
I say, "This is my plus one for this weekend and you already know her, so quit staring. You're all weirding me out."
Y/N chuckles and it makes me smile. I love the sound of her laugh.
Rose says, "Gosh how did we not see it? You two are perfect together. No wonder, you two are dating."
Y/N says, "Thanks, Rose."
We take our seats at the table and Sarah leans next to Y/N to talk.
Wheezie pokes me in the arm and asks, "When did you tell her?"
I ask, "Tell who and tell what?"
She answers, "Tell Y/N you like her, you big dope."
I smile and say, "I'm telling Sadie it was 6 months."
She asks, "And it was actually when?"
I answer, "I still haven't said anything. I just asked her to be my fake girlfriend this weekend. I'll tell her this weekend. Don't tell Sadie or Y/N please."
She replies, "I won't. I wish you had told Y/N that you liked her. I can tell she likes you back. You two would be so cute together."
I reply, "I just don't want to risk rejection yet."
She replies, "Boo Rafe. Life is about rejection."
Y/N puts her arm around mine and says, "Babe, do you want to go on a walk?"
Did she just call me babe?!?!?
Sarah says, "Oh my god, I've never seen Rafe blush."
I say, "I need to walk away from my sisters, for sure."
As Y/N and I are walking while holding hands, Y/N exclaims, "Rafe, I think it's cute how close you are with your sisters. I can tell they love and care about you a lot. Although Sarah was being very nosy about your life, so I needed to get out of there."
I smile, wrap my arms around her, and reply, "Yeah, I think it's thanks to you. They hated me before you existed in my life because I was rude and arrogant. You came along and made my life brighter. Wheezie was being nosy as well. I'm glad we decided to walk away from them. Did you call me babe earlier?"
She blushes, wraps her arms around my neck, and replies, "Maybe. I was trying it out. I do have to be your girlfriend for the weekend. Did you like it?"
I answer, "Yeah, especially coming from your mouth."
SKIP TO Rehearsal Dinner...
Sarah and Wheezie are with Sadie rehearsing the wedding. My dad, Rose, Y/N, and I just arrived for the rehearsal dinner at the restaurant. I introduce Y/N to tons of my family and I start to feel tired of talking about everything honestly. They want to talk about college, Y/N, her life plans, my family, if I want to follow in Ward's footsteps for jobs, and annoying conversations I don't want to discuss. I'm very done with the evening and it hasn't even started. I take Y/N's hand and lead her away from everyone to the side of the room.
I sit on the couch and Y/N sits next to me with her hand in mine.
Y/N asks, "Hey, is everything alright?"
I answer, "I love my family, but they annoy me. They all want so much from me; whenever I'm near them, I feel pressured to listen and follow their dreams for me. I just want a break from them sometimes and to choose what I want to do with my life."
She replies, "I understand that. What if we make a little code if you feel like that? Like you tap me three times on my hand and I find a way for us to walk away. We can sit over here or dance or just walk away. We can think of another code if you think of a better one? You could also just say you want to walk away, but that's kind of rude."
I smile and say, "You're really thoughtful to think of that. The tapping three times on the hand seems easiest without being rude... We would have to be holding hands the whole time though not that I mind. The same goes for you too. If you don't like how someone is talking or treating you or me, just tap me 3 times and we can walk away."
We hear people cheering and I say, “That’s probably the wedding party. We should go see Sarah and Wheezie.”
Y/N adds “And Sadie.”
I laugh and say, “Yeah... the bride.”
We watch the bridesmaids enter first and then the grooms enter next. Sadie and her soon-to-be husband then walk in!!!
After dinner, I see Sadie beelining for us.
She smiles, sees us, and exclaims, “Hi Camerons!! I’m so glad you’re all here. Rafe, introduce me to your girlfriend here.”
I exclaim, “This is Y/N and she’s my girlfriend. Y/N, this is Sadie, my cousin who is getting married.”
She says, “Rafe, that was the worst introduction ever. You are such a boy. You couldn’t say anything else about us, could you?”
Y/N says, “Hi Sadie, I’m Y/N L/N and I’m Rafe’s girlfriend. Before dating, we were best friends for many years, so you can ask me anything about him and I will know it."
Sadie smiles and says, “I love that. You're so cute. I’m Sadie, I’m Rafe’s cousin and a huge pain in his ass. I love Rafe so much and am so glad he finally asked you out this year. He used to tell me about you all the time and about how much he liked you. I kept telling him to just suck it up and ask you out. I'm proud of him.”
Y/N replies, "Well, thank you for giving him that push."
She then hugs me.
... It's now cocktail & dessert time. This will probably be the best part of the night because I get to get drunk. Y/N keeps going back to get drinks or mini cupcakes too. We may just be the life of the party.
I get annoyed listening to my family, so I tap Y/N's hand three times. She then excuses us and we walk to the couch we sat on earlier.
I exclaim, "My family was annoying me, sorry."
She replies, "It's okay, Rafe. That's why the code exists."
I ask, "Can we talk?"
She answers, "Sure we can. What do you wanna talk about?"
I ask, "The fact that Sadie said I've liked you for years... What if I want you to be my girlfriend for longer than just the weekend? Would you say yes"
She asks "Are you asking me out, Rafe?"
I answer "Yeah sort of... No, that was stupid of me ... unless you like me ... nah I don't know."
She says "That was confusing, but I do like you. If you properly asked, I would go on a real date with you."
I smile widely asking "Will you Y/N go on a date with me after this weekend?"
She answers "Yes Rafe. I will."
I reply, "Cool cool."
#outer banks imagines#outer banks#rafe outer banks#outer banks tv show#rafe fanfiction#rafe cameron#rafe imagine#rafe fic#outer banks rafe#rafe x reader#rafe obx#outerbanks rafe#rafe x you
62 notes
·
View notes
Text
Gale Seeking Godhood, Path 3 Ending Part VII
Content Warning: Death
This is the final path and chapter for Gale Seeking Godhood. Enjoy, sadists.
Read on Ao3
“Ah!” An unhinged chuckle fell from Gale’s lips and his hands shot to his head and ran back through his hair. His body tingled with adrenaline and he pushed back from his seat so abruptly his chair fell backwards with a thud. “I’ve done it… I’ve done it…” His eyes searched around the room, eager to share in his excitement with you and he beamed with pride.
Gale’s heart sunk as soon as the realization gripped him. For a moment, he forgot that you were no longer by his side. You had left, asking him to never speak to you again. Tara wasn’t even here to share his delight - the moment felt bittersweet and lonely. After all this time, Gale cracked the final words in the Annals of Karsus, Godhood close enough to taste. Gale needed to find you - needed to share this moment. Perhaps you’d see reason now that he had accomplished what you set out to do. Now that he was on Godhood’s doorstep. You’d want to ascend with him, surely - you’d have infinity together… time to mend what was broken.
You’d see. You’d have to.
***
It was about a ten-day before Gale found you. Although he had mustered the confidence to seek you out, he watched you from afar, nervous. He hated it - it was a ravenous anxiety, one that clawed at his gut and threatened to rip out his soul. With a heavy sigh, Gale walked towards you. You were sitting on the docks, your legs handing over the side to barely brush the water.
Gale stood behind you for a moment before the tell-tale creaking of the planks betrayed him and you whipped around, your eyes darkening. You were frozen, your eyes wide and doe-like as Gale approached. His breath caught, surprised by your magnitism even after all of this time. “I knew I’d find you,” Gale breathed and you held up a hand, your expression unreadable.
“I thought I asked you to leave me alone,” You murmured and Gale’s heart clenched at the sorrow and regret woven into your words.
“I know,” Gale said, he could hardly form a coherent thought, the sound of the blood rushing through his ears drowning out everything. His palms were sweaty and he scoffed a bit, musing at the sensations of being a mortal. He relished in it, knowing it would be the last time he felt such a thing. “But if you would just listen…”
“No..” You stood, your voice fiery. “I’ve heard enough. I’ve seen enough. If you’ve come all this way just to have me understand… I think you’ll find I understand plenty.”
“But you don’t!” Gale shouted, exasperated and flung his hands up. “If you did, you wouldn’t foolishly reject this opportunity.. Godhood, ascension! Don’t you understand what that means? What we could accomplish? All we could achieve together?”
You scoffed, your voice acrid, “Listen to yourself! You’re so blind, knee-deep in your own self-absorbed thirst for power, that you are unable to comprehend, even for a moment, that this is not what I want.” Your voice was steely and cold, “This is what you want. You’ve lusted after this power long before me. I see that clearly now. So, if you’re intent on this ill-advised suicide mission I will not stop you - I would rather live a thousand more miserable mortal lives than spend eternity with you as a God.”
Gale groaned, running his hand over his face and felt sick. “You don’t mean that. What can’t you see? I’m offering you eternity - eternity. Surely you must…”
But he was interrupted by a low, sadistic cackling as the earth split open and a figure emerged from a chaotic roil of red and sulfur. The entire earth seemed to quake and he instinctively reached his hand out to hold onto you, to ensure your safety. You did not recoil.
“Gale Dekarios. Gale of Waterdeep. Soon to be Dekarios the Divine.”
“Raphael.” Gale hissed, a frown pulling at his mouth.
“Raphael….?” You whisper, the color drained from your face.
“What do you want?” Gale spat, his words laced with venom.
Raphael’s slow, menacing laugh throttled them and Gale pulled you closer to him to stand in front of you. “For someone so clever, you can be awfully dense at times.” Raphael snapped his fingers and Gale cried out, a hand gripping his chest as magnificent pain swept through his body.
“Stop!” You shout, arm wrapped around Gale’s shoulder as he crumpled before you.
Gale gritted his teeth and he stood. His eyes narrowed and swimming with blackness. “You’re an alluring figure, Raphael.” Gale began, stepping towards him and began to circle him like a shark. “I confess, I took a liking to you the moment we met. We have something in common after all - ambition.” Gale smirked and wagged a finger at Raphael, “But here’s where we differ: you have lofty goals and the Crown is the key to them. You’re desperate to get your claws on it. Ambition is your bread and bloody butter - but it’s more than that to me. It will be my domain.” The air around Gale began to crackle, coming alive, “And... I think in your case, I’ll bend the rules and make things a little more interesting for both of us.” Gale flicked his wrist elegantly, manipulating the Weave with such agile grace as he hurled a spell at Raphael.
He was met with a cold laugh as Raphael expertly countered it. “Ah, the folly of mortals… how delicious. It’s a pity… you should have ascended while you had the chance. Perhaps I’ll be able to satisfy my own ambitions after all…” and Raphael transformed, taking on his demonic avatar.
It all happened in a blur. Gale had committed the incantations, the flourishes from the tome to memory and as Raphael threw one attack after another, Gale deflected each as he focused on harnessing the power of the Crown.
“Gale what are you doing?!” You yelled, gripping his arm but Gale’s eyes were full of an unfamiliar emptiness. You were caught in the crossfires, desperate to survive, desperate to preserve Gale’s life.
“A danger for anyone imprudent enough to trust you,” Raphael sneered, “Tell me, Gale Dekarios, what is the price you’re willing to pay for Godhood?” Gale saw Raphael’s eyes flick to you, an eager, hungry grin curling his lips. He intended to focus his attack to you. “Do not toy with me, Wizard.”
“I thought you liked playing games, Raphael. You can have the crown. But you’ll have to come and collect it from my realm.”
Although it was a fraction of a second, the moment would be frozen into Gale’s mind for the remainder of his existence. Long after he lost track of time in mortal terms, long after the lingerings of his mortality diminished entirely.
In that instant, Raphael directed his attention to you and you barely deflected him. Gale could taste your terror, see the wild fear in your eyes. While Gale uttered the final incantation that would grant him immortality - elevate him to Godhood - he tossed a brutal, ruthless spell at Raphael.
Disintegrate. Dolor.
Except he had been distracted. The moment Gale ascended to Godhood, the last word falling from his lips to claim absolute control, the power and sensations devouring his mortality in encompassing, extraordinary expansion - would also be the memory of you.
Before his eyes, you disintegrated into dust. The look of shock, pain, and repulsion evident as the winds brushed away your being, sweeping you into another plane. The visceral yell that erupted from Gale’s lips could be heard across the celestial planes, across Faerûn. His once mortal hands clutched at the pieces, the dust of you as your remains filtered and swirling in the breeze as if nothing. Gone.
Gale felt undone. His body no longer a body but an essence, an ethereal intangibility despite appearing mortal. There was no emotion that he knew that could compare to the sensation that he had now, if you could call it a feeling at all. He felt wrong. Soiled. Emotions felt foreign, incomprehensible. Yet, Gale was filled with a feeling of profound discomfort, as if the core of his being was unbalanced. It was a sensation of things being starkly out of order. It was more uncomfortable than anything he’d ever experienced.
It was not supposed to happen this way.
***
How much time had passed? A month? A year? A century?
Gale measured time in eons and eternities now, and space was a matter of infinities overlapping impossibly in the dreams of the divine. But the bond he felt with you still had meaning and weighed on him, tugged at the fabric of his new celestial form and kept him in a state of unending instability. The scales would never balance.
Mystra had told Gale as much when he met her in the astral plane, moments after your death. Raphael had vanished as unexpectedly as he arrived, knowing when he’d been bested and - Gale had no doubt - relishing in the bitter justice as he saw Gale kill the one person he loved, the person who had tried to love him to the best of their ability.
Gale had ascended to the heavens almost instantly after, greeted by the mistress of Magic who was prepared to fight for her domain. Yet, that was not Gale’s goal. He told her he intended to claim the domain of ambition, of strife, and Mystra’s smug response ensured that in the future, Gale would challenge her. He would take the Weave from her.
Eventually.
“You took a mortal life at the moment you claimed Godhood,” Mystra’s tone was thick with condescension, with an almost haughty conviction. “You will never feel truly balanced. Gods are not meant to take mortal lives. It is the ugly cost you chose to pay - and it has cost you dearly.”
Time was irrelevant now, but Gale held you with such reverence that even his followers knew the tragic truth, the perils and cost that ambition took on Dekarios the Divine. It became engrained in his doctrine.
Ah, Ambition. A delicious sin for an immortal to wield, indeed.
#gale of waterdeep#gale dekarios#bg3 gale#baldurs gate 3#gale#baldur's gate 3#bg3#bg3 brainrot#god gale#gale seeking godhood fic#gale x you#gale x reader#dekarios the divine
53 notes
·
View notes
Text
really well
July 24, 2022
Viola was sitting out on the dock waiting for the sun to start rising, she had a hot chai in a mug in between both of her hands and her favorite very large blankets draped around her.
Viola doesn’t love waking up early but she seems to always wake up early at the lake house to watch the sunrise.
Quinn held a coffee in his hands as he walked through the dewey grass and onto the dock and walked down to his baby sister and sat down next to her.
Viola knew who sat next to her and lifted her blanket up and wrapped it around Quinn, Quinn joins her most mornings she is out here and they always like to go on a run after.
Viola rested her head on her brother’s shoulder and enjoyed the peaceful silence only hearing the ripples of the lake and chirping of the morning birds and watching as the lake look like glass from the night.
“You wanna tell me about this boy.” Quinn soflty asked his baby sister, he’s seen her over the last few months seeing how happy she is on her phone and could hear through their shared wall the many Facetime’s she has with him.
No one besides Cole noticed it but Quinn saw how happy she was when they were watching the draft when a certain player was drafted and Quinn noticed he played on her team and had the same name as the name she gave them, and Quinn knew that was the boy who’s been making his baby sister giggly again.
Viola bit her lip and nodded slightly as she knew Quinn would never tease her in a way that makes her upset, “I met him my first day when i went to get a tour and to see my doctor for the first time.” Viola cleared her throat and brushed her finger over the ring of her mug.
“I wasn’t doing great with my injuries and um he just always kept popping up and making me laugh. Felt like he was the only person who wasn’t looking at me like glass.” Viola hated how much her family, friend and coaches kept looking at her like she was going to break, she understood their worry but it was frustrating the only who didn’t was Cole and then she met Maveric and he just treated her like normal.
“Does he treat you well?” Quinn frowned hating how much she was going through this last year and how he couldn’t be there more for her but he was glad she had found someone who made her laugh on the hard days.
“Really well.” Viola smiled brightly, they aren’t even together yet and he treats her like a princess.
“Are you guys together?” Quinn smiled and wrapped an arm around his shoulder giving her a squeeze.
“No, not yet.” Viola just shrugged she wasn’t worried, Maveric has been very honest about his feelings for her and she knows he likes her but they didn’t want to start a relationship before summer especially because it’s his draft year and he’s crazy busy all summer.
“We are going on a date when i get back.” Viola blushed slightly remembering how he asked to take her out on a date the other day when they were facetiming.
“I’m happy you’re happy Vio. I’m so proud of you.” Quinn kissed the top of her head and Viola beamed back always being slightly bashful from praise.
“Thank you Quinny.” Viola mumbled back.
#violahughesau#vh5#maveric lamoureux x oc#maveric lamoureux#luke hughes#jack hughes#quinn hughes#cole caufield x oc#cole caufield#logan cooley#clayton keller#arizona coyotes#luke hughes x oc#jack hughes x oc#quinn hughes x oc#trevor zegras x oc#trevor zegras#nick suzuki#new jersey devils#vancouver canucks#nhl x oc#nhl au#nhl blurbs#nhl blurb#nhl imagine#nhl fic#nhl hockey#nhl#jh86#qh43
33 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
harleysdebrasilia
🤜HDBSB🤛
haileyleslie
Hailey Leslie's Blog
barancestudio
BaranceStudio@NSFW Game-Dev
findomgoddessaly
spacequeen
femmelieutenant-a-blog
Lieutenant