#cred on fishing line

[heart-forecast]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀୨୧ ― Mermaid Crystal Parfait ! 🎣

#ට #cred on fishing line #blue #white #brown #<- kinda ???? the bg is idk #stimmy #stims #stim #visual stim #parfait #dessert #dessert stim #dessert cw #mermaid #mermaids #fast gif #<- for that last one jiji feels its a lil fast #sea tag #<- for jiji :3 #cute #cute stim

[crookedteethed]

MORESAL of praise | e.m.

Pairing: Up-and-coming Musician!Eddie Munson x Girlfriend Musician reader

Warning: 18+ Cursing, Smut (p in v), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), Reader is intimidated by Eddie's size, Praise kink, Pet names, cockwarming, Eddie being a tool, barely proofread, reader and Eddie are both in their mid-twenties, From y/n perspective

Word count: 2.7k

Divider cred → @saradika-graphics

There's a squeak to my door that needs fixing, and a water leak somewhere that needs tending.

I asked my tenant to fix it, but he tells me: "This is what you get when you pay $300 a month."

The Luminary, home of musicians trying to live for cheap.

I sit my guitar case on the creaking floors, and kick off my ten-hut boots.

My apartment had been cold. A dull gray atmosphere manifested itself not only due to the cold weather outside but also the poor insulation through my apartment walls.

The door to my room was slightly cracked and I noticed between the lines of static silence were the faint sounds of acoustic strings.

I opened the door. In my room, there was one dim lamp light lit. It shined a yellow hue on my boyfriend, who sat on the edge of my bed. Eddie had been playing his black acoustic guitar--the one he wrote "This machine slays dragons" in white paint on, his notebook he often wrote in laid open next to him, a black ink pen between the margins of the notebook.

He doesn't look up at me when I tell him "Hi."

His concentration was on the nylon strings of his acoustic guitar as he mutters an "Oh, hey." back.

My boyfriend looked beautiful at the moment, inattentive, yet beautiful. The warm yellow tone reflected his pallor skin, strands of his thick curly hair tucked behind his ear, and a brown celluloid guitar pick between his teeth. Somewhat of a Vermeer painting.

I walk over to my dresser.

"Sorry, I'd broken in." Eddie says. "I needed to be somewhere quiet, my roommates wouldn't give me that." The roommates that had also doubled as Eddies bandmates.

"It's okay." I say, while shimming out of my black satin skirt. "I was going to ask if you wanted to come over tonight anyway."

My skirt falls to the floor, it pools around my ankles. Next to come off is my stockings, then my shirt, and lastly my bra.

I catch Eddies eyes lingering on my bareback as I fish for something I can sleep in. My hands pick a shirt that said "Margaritaville" and was four sizes too big.

When I turn back around to Eddie, he's back to strumming a random chord then he writes it down in his notebook.

In the small bathroom that connected to my bedroom, I don't look myself in the mirror when I take off my panties and throw them into the hamper.

Now getting into bed, I crawled over to where Eddie sat, sitting behind him on the weight of my knees.

Eddie had seemed to form some sort of a strumming pattern with his song, but he didn't seem to like the sound of it by the harsh glare he gave his guitar.

"It sounds pretty." I assure him.

He lets out a low mumble that sounds like a "Thank you."

"Thinking about playing it to the guys, play it at our audition at Beacon records, maybe?"

I hum as I slowly walked on my knees, my calloused hands gripping his bare shoulders. "Mmm-hmm," I say as he kept speaking, but I was too busy stroking his hair to fathom anything he was saying.

I lean in closer to his body, enveloping myself in his warmth.

My boyfriend: the thermal.

I bring my lips to his neck, and in one long hard suck, I kiss the flesh. His reaction is what catches me off guard.

"Babe." he turns to me, he stares at me with the same glare he gave his guitar. "I'm almost done." He continued. "Then we can do whatever you want."

The music continues.

My bottom lip start to poke out, and I probably would've started to cry if he was a bit more harsher.

I start to scoot to the head of the bed. "Take as long as you want. I'm going to bed." I tell him.

I get underneath my cold blankets, lay to my side and force myself to sleep (despite not being sleepy).

Suddenly, his strumming stops.

With one eye opened, I peak at him (out of curiosity). I squeeze both my eyes shut when I feel Eddie get up from the bed, his bones cracking in the mitts.

He leans his guitar on the wall, and places his closed notebook on the bedside table.

We accidentally make eye contact when he turns off the lamp light, I squeeze my eyes in a haste, but l feel the smirk on his lips illuminating in the darkness of my room.

Eddie then slips underneath the covers beside me, his clipped nails and rough hands graze the plush of my slender hips. I feel his smirked lips kiss the dip of my shoulder blade.

"I'm trying to sleep." I mumble.

"No you're not." He says, breathing on the nape of my neck.

I feel Eddie's muscular hands turn me over by the shoulders. When we're face to face I get a glimpse of his shadow covered face, alabaster skin darker then normal.

Eddie traces a finger over the line of my jaw and pulled my body tight to his chest. His body heat makes me feel less cold. Eddie brings a warmness to me that spreads from my temples, to my limps and it makes me melt like ice cream on a midsummer day's night.

"You're freezing." he states.

My lips part as his thump soothes the petal skin of my jawline.

"Lemme make you warm. Lemme make up for before, yeah?" He said in that voice I couldn't resist. It's a low, gravelly tone. A tone filled with assurance and leverage.

And though I wanted to roll over and play sleep, I simply couldn't. With sluggish eyes and a parted mouth (due to his thumb playing with my bottom lip) I found myself nodding to Eddie's words.

As Eddie crawls on top of me, I combed my fingers through his thick dark curls. Eddie's the one to close the gap between our mouths.

The kiss begins with the utmost tenderness. It was long enough that I could inhale his breath, feel the warmness of his skin, and tasted the last thing that lingered on his lips (the celluloid guitar pick).

But, with the hunger of a starving man, Eddie deepens the kiss. I responded to him with a low mewl between the gnawing and the suckling.

When I feel Eddie's hand snake to where our cores met, I stopped him.

He hovers over me with concerning eyes, and red-bitten lips.

"Did I do something wron--"

"I want to ride you." I breathlessly say, earning another smirk from him and glint in his eyes.

In a swift motion, Eddie and I switched places, with him now being on the bottom while I was on top. Eddie rests his back on the metallic bars of my headboard. In this position, the moonlight peaking from my curtains had shined on his face, leaving me in the shadows.

I start to adjust myself by bunching the hem of my shirt around my waist; Eddie adjusts himself by lifting his weight to pull down his boxers, and that's when I feel it.

I feel the warmth that radiates from his cock to my wet slit. His tip nearly meshing with my clit.

Eddie's cock had had a slight curved mushroom shape to it with a hefty girth to it as well, with three large straining veins running along the side of it.

His reddening tip spewed drops of clear pre-cum that leaked down from his dick and to my thighs.

I gawked at his cock, with slightly parted lips.

Oh, how I yearned for Eddie to be inside of me all day. During my yearning, Eddie was on top. It occurred to me then that I'd never ridden Eddie before. Eddie is always the one to do the penetrating.

My eyes met with his, a devious look in his deep, earthy brown eyes.

"Sorry." I mutter.

Eddie looks at me with a condescending grin as I lift myself up by my knees. I give a few tugs to his cock, before aligning his length to my entrance.

I feel the supple wetness of my cunt drip down my thighs and onto the puddle of Eddie's pre-cum that resides there, as I inch him closer to me.

It was either the intimidation or excitement in my lower belly that lead me to stop.

"Can you help me?" I mumble.

"What?" Eddie says, cuffing his hand behind his ear. Whatta prick.

"You heard me." I said.

"I believe I didn't sweetheart, you were mumbling."

He knew for a fact he heard me; we were so close to one another that I could listen to the fluids swishing around in his belly. But for the sake of it,

"Can you help me?" I repeat, this time loud and clear.

"Ohh, that's what I thought you said." He decides to play dumb, desperation pulls on my face. "Thought you wanted to ride me, huh?"

"I do, but I'm scared it won't fit." I say.

"It fit all those other times." He rebuttals.

"But all those other times weren't like this." I stare deep into his eyes and poke out my bottom lip. "Please, just help me."

"Oh, don't cry sweets, you know I was gonna help ya, y'know." He tells me. "But first, take off your top fr'me."

I comply, watching him watch me take off my "Margaritaville" shirt and discarding it onto the floor.

Now completely bare, I feel my nipples start to pebble at the cool breeze of my apartment.

Eddie's mouth latches onto my left breast like a moth to a flame. I feel his hand give my right breast a firm squeeze. As his lips and tongue revolved around my sensitive buds, the tips of his curls tickled my chest.

"Eds." I gasp, bringing his head closer to my chest as if I were trying to feed him.

In the next moment, he spilled a few drops of saliva on my other nipple and flicked the newly wet nub, and started to suck on the puffy skin.

"Eds, baby, you're doing so good." I moan. Eddie hums in acknowledgment, concentrating on my left nipple like it was his guitar and notebook.

"But please, Eddie, I need you inside of me; I'm dripping here." I whine.

Eddie slowly detaches himself from my right nipple, a string of saliva connecting his lips from my nub. He looks down at the slickness that coats his and my thighs.

"Shit." he curses. He looks at me with those chocolate brown eyes of his, and a look of flattery on his face. "And I didn't even have to touch that little clit of yours to have you dripping like this."

"Eddie, please!"

"Alright, alright." He says. "By the way, y'know you're beautiful when you're all whiney and struggling on me."

Before I can rebuttal, I see Eddie gripping the thick base of his cock; as he brings his tip to my entrance, I bite on my bottom lip out of pure anticipation.

A faint sigh of relief died on our lips as Eddie melded inside me. I let out a shaky gasp at the sudden stretch. For a brief second, I sit on his cock, taking in his size, taking in his heat.

Involuntary, I clench around his girthy length as a response his cock throbs inside of me. I think if we knew morse code, our private parts could have a flirty conversation without each of us knowing; I giggle at this thought.

Eddie wraps his arms tightly around my waist "You got this mama." He pecks the skin of my collarbone.

With doe eyes I slowly nod my head, before slowly starting to grinding my hips onto his.

"That's it, baby, keep going." Eddie praises, looking up at me with such admiration. I start to quicken my pace, feeling my slick and clit coat his torso.

As Eddie's lips ravishes the dip of my neck, he breaths against my skin: "You have no idea how much I want to fuck you right now."

"Then do it." I say. "Fuck me."

And with the quick placement of his large hands groping the plush fat of my waist, Eddie starts to slam my body up and down on his cock in a bouncing motion.

I mewl at his relentless thrust. Groaning every time I feel his ridged cock dragging inside of my gummy walls, I whimper when I feel him graze my sweet-spot, only for him to draw himself back and slam right back into me.

The only sounds to fill the air was skin on skin, hard smacks coming from each time our bodies thrashed.

"Fuckin' shit." Eddie groans. "Look at my girl, taking me so well." Butterflies swarm inside of my belly.

I look down to where Eddie and I connected once again, I see the lips of my cunt touch the base of his cock and then back up to his tip. Eddie fingertips graze the meat of my ass, he gives my cheeks a tight squeeze.

My cup runneth over.

My eyes begin to flutter close. "M'close." I murmured against Eddie's lips. I was tottering on the edge of my climax.

Eddie switches from mercilessly slamming me unto his cock to grinding, rubbing me against him. With the palms of his hands splayed across my ass cheeks, he rubs me closer to him in fast, greedy motions.

"Eds, M'close!" I whine.

"Finish f'me, sweets." He says, voice hoarse like he was on the edge of his climax too.

It was the hoarseness in Eddie's voice, the bead of sweat sloping down the side of his face, and then the delicious feeling of his cock finally bumping into my sweet spot.

A plethora of moans escapes my lips. My back arches at the shockwaves of pleasure that ebbs and flows throughout my body. There's a ripple of orgasmic delight all over. My cunt starts clenching and unclenching around Eddie's cock.

Accompanied with the sounds of our skin slapping is the wet slick coming from my spent cunt.

Lazily, I collapsed into Eddie's chest and bury my face in the croak of his neck, giving him quick little pecks on the hot flesh--my body twitching every now and then.

Eddie still fucks into me.

"Almost there, sweets." he elongates. "You're so good to me." He kisses my cheek. "Always taking me so well in that little cunt of yours, always letting me use you, even when you're on top."

You would think Eddie was talking me through my orgasm, but he was talking him through his, I think his own praised turned him on twice as much.

I start to feel Eddie's cock spasm inside of me. I'm too spent to do anything but pull him tighter to me.

He pushes himself all the way in and stills himself. I feel his cock swell up, and in those two seconds of stillness I can feel just how large Eddie really is.

With each spurt of cum, Eddie's cock pulsates. I feel the warmth and pressure of his cum coating my cervix. With each spurt, Eddie lets out low (gravelly) groans.

Eddie kisses my forehead.

I lay on his chest, listening to the fast paced pumping of his heartbeat. My eyelids start to fall and I start to feel that post-coital weariness.

I try to move myself off of Eddie, but my sore and stiff hips and limps makes it hard.

"What are you doing?" Eddie asks me as I try to move beside him.

"Eddie, I have to get off of you, we can't stay in this position all night." I say.

"Says who?"

And as I snuggled back into Eddie's lap, his semi-hard cock starting to soften inside my warm cunt, I told Eddie he was right.

Who said we couldn't stay enveloped in each other's warmth for the rest of the night? Two lovers wrapped around one another in a cold bed in the cold Luminary. With no money, dead-end jobs, a guitar in hand, and dreams not only of each other but dreams of making a difference someday.

Eddie didn't need to be famous to make a difference in people's lives when he'd already made a difference in mine, my beautiful boyfriend.

#stranger things #eddie munson smut #rockstar eddie munson #musician eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #Fem reader #stranger things fic #crookedteethed #Eddie munson smut #trends #trending #joseph quinn

[pedgito]

for those that couldn’t listen, here’s what we’ve learned about Joseph Quinn from today’s panel (creds):

he doesn’t like pineapple on pizza

he’s happy with the questions people ask him

meeting Metallica is one of his favorite memories from this year

he speaks English is is learning Italian and German

he can understand a little bit of spanish but can’t speak it

him being in a bunch of period dramas was not a coincidence

Jamie loves his eyes

Joe Keery is his favorite costar

he has not listened to any more Harry Styles since last month

he likes the WASP pin on Eddie’s vest the most

he doesn’t meditate (but says he probably should)

Sunshine of Your Love by Cream is the first song he learned on guitar

prefers steak pie over fish n chips

he’s doing alright :)

he likes Arctic Monkeys

his favorite Arctic Monkeys song at the moment is Perfect Sense

his favorite role is Eddie

his favorite scene from stranger things was the guitar scene, but he also liked shooting with the cast (Joe, Maya, Natalia, Sadie, etc.)

he was very nervous meeting the stranger things cast

the first s4 scene he shot was in the boathouse

he thinks it’s annoying when actors talk about their process to prepare for roles

he thinks some roles come naturally and some don’t

he loved Toy Story as a child

he loved working with Gaten so much

he did some acting in school and enjoyed it and then went to drama school

he would star in Bridgerton if it was offered to him

fall is his favorite season

favorite animal is a dolphin

he is an only child

his favorite scene as Ralph was when he proposed, but he doesn’t remember much

likes the song I Am by Jamie Campbell Bower

it took him an hour to learn Master of Puppets on guitar, and a few months to get it better

he listens to Metallica

he improvises lines with more spontaneous characters

he’s had social anxiety before

his glasses are reading glasses

he needs contacts but he doesn’t have them yet

biggest pet peeve is fussy eaters but he’s fine with vegans and vegetarians

he can’t choose a favorite pasta

he would stick with Eddie even if he could’ve chosen a different stranger things role to audition for

his comfort character is Gene Wilder’s Willy Wonka

Legolas is his favorite LOTR character

he finds it weird to call himself a “famous person”

he thinks him and Eddie share a “questionable fashion sense”

he cannot play the Master of Puppets solo on guitar, but the rest of the song

he loves all of the stranger things fast that he got to work with

he’d love to be a part of A Quiet Place franchise

he wanted to save animals and be a marine biologist when he was a child

his perfect date would be dinner and a movie

when playing Eddie, he drew inspiration from obnoxious people older than him growing up

doesn’t have a least favorite stranger things scene to shoot

favorite movies from this year were The Banshees of Inisherin and The Whale

he is a dog person

#joseph quinn #joe quinn #eddie munson #stranger things

[renoed]

silver linings | adaman

[image creds]

❥ — PAIRING adaman x gn! reader

❥ — SUMMARY in which the rain that supposedly ruined your day has it's perks, and being in close proximity to the leader of the diamon clan is apparently one of them

"Adaman!"When you spot Adaman and his Leafeon in the Crimson Mirelands, the sky is overcast and a gentle but everpresent breeze is rustling his hair and clothes. It's calm — quiet, even.

"Adaman!"

You're out on yet another quest for someone who'd dropped their bag while running away from a Hippowdon (you can't say you blame them), and the thought of some company was definitely welcomed. Any time spent with the Diamond clan leader was time well spent, in your opinion.

He notices you and immediately waves, calling your name in response to your shout, "fancy seeing you here!"

Once you get closer, you begin to fish through your bag to find treats for his Leafeon and your pokémon, letting them all out while you chatted idly to the tall man, "I was almost caught in the clutches of a Drapion yesterday, I don't think I've ran that fast in a while!"

A close encounter with a dangerous pokémon is nothing new for you —and it's nothing new for Adaman to hear about— but as you speak he fixates solely on you and quickly forgets about the food in his palm, entranced by your words. He could swear that whenever you're around, it's as though you use hypnosis on him.

It isn't until there's a crack of lightning that seems to run a tear through the clouds, closely followed by a low roar of thunder, that Adaman is pulled away from his trance — he hadn't been told a storm was expected.

You're barely given a moment to think before the soft tap of rain hits your head.

You’re not sure ten seconds pass before its coming down exponentially. The rain quickly becomes a torrential downpour, and you begin running with Adaman and your pokemon following closely.

It seems only natural that Adaman manages to pull in front of you considering his talk stature. You aren’t thinking much other than wanting to find shelter, but for a split second you pray to Almight Sinnoh that he won’t just leave you behind.

Your prayers are answered when the diamond clan leader grabs onto your wrist and pulls you along. As you continue running in search of refuge from the rain, you aren't sure if your heart is beating so quickly because of the sudden exercise or because of Adaman's touch. The tight grip of his fingers around your wrist feels warm and strong.

Your clothes are quickly soaked through, and you can feel your hair sticking to your scalp. Despite the discomfort, you keep running, heart pounding in your chest, until you finally spot a small cave tucked into the side of a nearby hill.

You follow him inside, grateful for the temporary respite from the storm. The cave is dark, but you can just make out the outline of Adaman's figure as he shakes the water from his hair and clothes.

The space is small and enclosed - to the point where you can feel the heat radiating from his body. You turn to him and catch his eye. There's a moment where you're both staring at each other in silence, still catching your breath. The sound of the rain hitting the cave walls echoes around you.

There's something in the way he's looking at you that makes your heart skip a beat, and you're suddenly aware of how close you are to him. His lips are slightly parted and you notice his Adam's apple bob in his throat.

Maybe it's the crackling thunder that sets off a spark, but within seconds you've wrapped your hands in his jacket and pull him towards you, lips pressing flush against each other. A hum of surprise tumbles from his lips at the contact, but Adaman quickly reciprocates. As you kiss, the feeling running through your veins could rival the intensity of the lightning outside: it's fervent and eager and as you begin to pull away, you feel him chase after your lips. You meet him half way.

It's softer this time, and Adaman's hands find their way to your cheeks, pulling you as close as he possibly can. The world around you melts away as you kiss, thunder becomes a distant grumble and the howling wind is long forgotten. He can't help but pray for Almighty Sinnoh to halt both space and time so he can just live in this moment.

You both pull away again, lightly gasping for air but grinning boyishly at each other. Despite the darkness you can just about see the flush of his cheeks, spattered red crawling from his neck to his ears. You're unsure if the hammering in your ears is your heart, his, or the rain outside. You settle on a mixture of the three.

"That was... nice," he's first to break the silence and you almost snort out a laugh at his words.

"Nice?"

"Well, yeah," he chuckles, leaning forward to press his forward against yours, "more than nice, even."

You decide in that moment that you hope the storm outside doesn't stop raging, especially if Adaman keeps letting you kiss him.

[masterlist]

#renoed; pkmn #renoed #pokemon legends arceus adaman x reader #adaman x reader #pokemon adaman x reader #pokemon adaman #pokemon legends arceus adaman #pokemon x reader #pokemon #x reader #reader insert

[callofdudes]

Call of Duty's How to Train Your Dragon pt1.

A/n: Is this finally being created after @itsscromp finally got my brain worms wiggling again? Yes. Is this also a get better fic? Yes. Is it an entire script for a move? Also yes.

Yes, it's also just shy of 20K words so... This half of the post is only about 12K. If you like httyd/cod crossovers you've come to the right place. But if you want to give it a chance and have a shit ton of free time. I'd also be honored.

Hiccup: Y/n. Astrid: Ghost. Fishlegs: Gaz. Ruff/Tuff: Soap. Snotlout: Graves.

I will reblog with the second half of the fic. Cred for the divider used goes to @straywords

This is Berk. It's twelve days north of Hopeless, and a few degrees south of Freezing to Death.

It's located solidly on the Meridian of Misery.

My village. In a word, sturdy. And it's been here for seven generations, but, every single building is new. We have fishing, hunting, and a charming view of the sunsets.

The only problems are the pests. Even if they carry away all our food… You see, most places have mice or mosquitoes. We have…

Y/n opens the door of the large house structure, watching Vikings go running by, a monstrous nightmare stalking across the ground, talons digging into the stone. It turned it's gaze on the door, letting out a stream of fire from its gut. 

Y/n quickly slams the door shut as fire flicked up between the cracks and fades into dark smoke.

-dragons. Most people would leave. Not us. We're Vikings. We have, stubbornness issues. 

Y/n rushed outside, smoke billowing into the clouds from the fire torching into the wooden buildings.

My name's Y/n. Great name, I know. But, it's not the worst. Parents believe a hideous name will frighten off gnomes and trolls. Like our charming Viking demeanor wouldn't do that.

Y/n falls back against the ground with an earth quaking tremor as another dragon flies into the area. Several Vikings greeting them. You. This is you. Flabby skin tight arms wrapped around thin layers of barely noticeable muscle.

Clothes seeming too big and too small, hands as soft as a newborn despite the experience in the forge. The only place you ever seem to be helpful no doubt. 

What a life a Viking like you lives. You're bloody useless! Even a newborn baby could wield an axe better than you could.

You rush up one of the paths along the hills of Berk, multiple Vikings looking at your sorry figure and asking why you were out during a dragon attack. You only ever caused trouble. When you weren't being useless you were being an expensive clumsy step.

“What are you doing here!?” One Viking says before you rush past.

“What are you doin’ out??” Another.

“Get back inside!!”

You're grabbed up swiftly by the collar of your shirt, your stubby feet dangling above the ground. A dragon's fiery breath drawing a line in the road, barely were you saved from its wrath.

“Y/n?! What are they doing out again-?!” He looked at you, baffled. “What are you doing out?! Get inside!”

That's Stoick the Vast. Chief of the tribe. They say that when he was a baby, he popped a dragon's head clean off of its shoulders. 

You watch as the large burly man grabs a cart along the road, swinging it and throwing it violently at a deadly Nadder in the sky. The dragon struggled and went down as it burst into splinters.

 Do I believe it? Yes, I do.

While the others rush to the scene to take the dragons on, you cower and rush into the smithing shop nestled near the middle of the town road. The only place not burnt down by now.

Immediately putting on an apron and stumbling about.

“Oh, nice of you to join the party, I thought you'd been carried off!”

You turned briefly to another large man, his appendages having some work done, what with missing both an arm and a leg. Always wondered what kept him alive… it clearly wasn't his limbs.

“What, who me? Nah, come on! I'm waaaay too muscular for their taste. They wouldn't know what to do with all…” Your lack of any muscle is incredibly. Being born into the generation you were, how you managed to stay the same length and width of a stick was quite the sight. “...this.”

You moved a rather large weapon and opened the smithing window, a Viking immediately grabbing a weapon from the desk before you could take them back to the smelter.

He hums. “Well, they need toothpicks, don't they?” 

You roll your eyes a tad and sigh.

The meat-head with attitude and interchangeable hands is Gobber. I've been his apprentice ever since I was little. Well... littler.

You look out the smithing window as Stoick tackles another dragon. A dragon landing on another roof and blowing fire into the scorching wood. It crumbling beneath its talons.

See? Old village, lots and lots of new houses.

“FIRE!!” A Viking shouted, followed by four teen rushing out with buckets of water.

Oh, and that's Gaz, Graves, Soap, and... Ghost. Oh, their job is so much cooler.

You watch the group walk from a fiery explosion as Vikings pass by, led by the snappiest rackater of them all. 

Ghost may have been a hard head who bullied your entire existence in a subtle way that made you feel like you were the problem, but that didn't matter. 

Graves was a real hard ass. Always following said lead teen around like he was gonna get a chance for even a morcel. Considering no respecting person in the village would take that…

There was Soap. They say he had a twin, but, had. Considering no one knows what happened or where said twin ended up. Easiest to say Odin didn't want them to live the hardships.

Or they got eaten by a dragon. 

Gaz, well, no one really knew what his problem was. He was a tad odd, but damn smart, and somehow more popular than you, skellington.

You lean out the smithing window, a hooked hand pulling you back in. “Oh come on! Please, let me out! I need to make my mark!”

“Oh you've made marks all right, in all the wrong places!”

“Please, two minutes. I'll kill a dragon. My life will get infinitely better. I might even get noticed!”

“You can't lift a hammer, you can't swing an axe, you can't even throw one of these!” Gobber lifts a bola to express his exasperation, only for it to be pulled from his hook and thrown at a dragon, taking it down.

“Okay, fine, but this will throw it for me!” You smiled excitedly rushing back into the shop, showing off your cool canon mechanism.

“See, now this right here is what I'm talking about!” Gobber sighed, exasperated. Watching you fiddle with your contraption.

“Mild calibration issue-” You fiddled with some levers and the string on the draw.

“Don't you- no- Y/n. If you ever want to get out there to fight dragons, you need to stop all... this.” He gestured vaguely to you, looking you up and down.

“But you just pointed to all of me?”

“Yes, exactly! Stop being you.” Gobber smiled, thinking you were getting it. Poking you in the chest.

“Oooh…”

“Ooooh, yes.”

“You sir, are playing a dangerous game. Keeping this much, raw... Viking-ness... contained? THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES.” You pointed your finger up, brow turning down angrily.

Gobber looked bored at you. “I'll take my chances. Sword. Sharpen. Now.” He dumped the sword into your frail hands, leaving you to your devices.

One day, I'll get out there. Because, killing a dragon, is everything around here.

You can look out the smithing window while you put the sword on the grindstone, sparks flying from the blade as you contemplate your options of execution.

A Nadder head is sure to get you at least noticed. Gronckles are tough. Taking down one of those would definitely get you the spot light. A Zippleback? Exotic. Two heads, twice the status.

And then, there's the Monstrous Nightmare. Only the best Vikings go after those. They have this nasty habit of setting themselves on fire.

You watched from the window as one crawled up the wall of the tower and onto a catapult, lighting itself up and scaring off the Viking manning the device.

Stoick slamming his hammer into its face to ward it off from the top of the tower.

But the ultimate prize is the dragon no one has ever seen. We call it the-

There's a high pitched whistle across the sky. Vikings retreating desperately as they call out.

“NIGHT FURY! GET DOWN!” The Vikings rush to get down. From nowhere a catapult is torn apart with a plasma blast.

This thing never steals food, never shows itself, and... never misses. No one has ever killed a Night Fury. That's why you're going to be the first.

“Man the fort, Y/n. They need me out there!” He attaches an ax piece to his hand, rushing to the door.

“Stay. Put. There. You know what I mean.” Gobber runs off, leaving you in the shop. You tore off your apron and ran back to your catapult set up. Steering it out the doors and running up the hill along the catapults. 

Vikings yelling at you to get back and go inside. You can't be trusted outside when the island is in chaos. They can't trust you not to make chaos.

“Y/n!” One yelled.

“I know! I'll be right back!” You led your catapult on wheels up the old path, Stoick pinning down a group of Nadders. 

The others fought while you reached the edge of the cliff. Looking out at the darkness, a surprisingly peaceful corner of the island away from the chaos feet away.

You opened the catapult and set it up, the small aiming needle and the leader strap that held in the bola aiming around. You looked at the night sky, out at all the stars.

“Come on… Give me something to shoot at, give me something to shoot at.”

You watched the sky. Hearing the low cry of the dragon. Seeing the dark figure blacking out the stars, the only possible way you could see the creature that blended so easily into the night.

Attempting to track the shadow with the scope of your catapult.

You heard the dragon make its move, dive bombing from the sky and shooting a plasma blast into a nearby fire, knocking the tower down. As it cleared the explosion you clenched your eyes shut and pulled the trigger.

The catapult blasted you back on your butt, hearing the cry as the creature went down. 

You hit it. For once in your miniscule life you hit it!! A dragon!! A night fury!!

“I hit it!! Yes! Did anybody see that??” You turned around, a monstrous nightmare creeping up on you, its narrowed face making it look like a devilish thing.

“Except… for you.” 

It growled at you and you screamed, attracting the attention of Stoick. He sighed in exasperation, pulling away from the tied down Nadder heads. “DO NOT let them escape!” He commanded some others as he rushed to your aid.

You ran and stumbled from the dragon that stalked after you, firing at you. Hiding behind a pillar as your heart pounded in your chest.

You just killed a dragon and now you're dead. You're a goner. Oh you should have stayed inside.

It blasted a fiery blaze against the pillar, and you briefly squeezed your eyes shut. Slowly forcing one open and inching around the corner. 

The dragon growled as its head turned, coming around from behind you. Before it could fire, Stoick slammed his fist into its face, getting the attention onto him.

It belched out the last of its flame, looking weakly down at the splatter and up at Stoick.

“You're all out of juice.” He clenched his fists and punched the monstrous nightmare, bullying it until it retreated desperately back into the night.

You tensed up, feeling the burning hot metal of the pillar crunch and crumble. The wooden pole leaning and the flaming bowl of coals on top spilled as it toppled. Falling to the side and crashing into a fire gust of ashes into a small pool of water.

Vikings gathered around you as you timidly looked up at Stoick.

Oh, and there's one other thing you should know…

A woman cried and gasped, the coals flickering and landing across the ground and the dirt. Your shoulders tensing and rising with each noise. Slowly turning to Stoick who did not look happy.

“Sorry… dad..”

You and the others all watched as the dragons flew by, the sound of the sheep they'd captured from the island sounding off as they left. 

Slowly pursing your lips you turned to your father. “Ok but I hit a night fury-”

Stoick grabbed you by the back of your collar, dragging you off effortlessly.

“Ah! It's not like the last few times, dad! I really actually hit it.”

“You guys weren't around. I was alone when I hit it. I had a clear shot.” 

Gobber watched regretfully as you were dragged. “It fell just off Ravens point I say let's get a search party out there-”

“Stop!” Stoick interrupted you, making you purse your lips again silently as he now stood you in front of him. “Just stop.”

“Every time you get out, trouble follows. Can't you see I have bigger problems?? Winter is almost here, and I have an entire village to feed.”

An awkward pause before you speak. “Well between you and me the village could use a little less of that? No?”

A Viking behind you silently disagrees as he rubs his round stomach. No, no, the village can stay well fed. They like it.

“This is not a joke! Y/n!” Stoick sighs. “Why can't you just follow the simplest of orders??”

You bounce on your feet. “I-I can't stop myself. I see a dragon and I have to just kill it.” You twist your hands, looking up at him. 

Yeah, right. Like you could ever kill a dragon. 

“It's who I am, dad.” You say, sighing. You're full of crap.

Stoick rubs his face. “Ey… you are many things y/n, but a dragon killer? Is not one of them… get back to the house.”

He looks up at Gobber, motioning him. “Make sure they get there.”

Gobber comes over and gently hits your head. 

“I have their mess to clean up…” Stoick walks past as Gobber leads you sulking home.

To make things worse you passed the other teens, Soap snickering with Gaz. “Quite the performance.” Gaz commented.

“Wow, I've never seen someone mess up that badly.” Graves leaned in your face. “That helped.”

You sulked by, noticing Ghost admiring his axe in the background, leaned up against the stone ledge.

“Thank you, thank you. I was trying.”

As you pass Gober grips Graves helmet and shoves him back, making him choke. “Ow-!”

You two walk back to the house, your annoyance stewing. “I really did hit one.”

“Sure you did.”

“He never listens.”

“It runs in the family.” Gobber replied.

“And when he does it's always with this disappointed scowl, like someone skimped on the meat in his sandwich.”

You turn just before the door, making a mock impression of your father, raising your eyebrows in anger. “Excuse me, barmaid! I'm afraid you brought me the wrong offspring.” 

You raise your arms in annoyance, doing wild gestures. “I ordered an extra large boy with beefy arms. Extra guts and glory on the side. This here, this is a talking fishbone!”

“Now, you're thinking about this all wrong. It's not so much what you look like, it's what's inside that he can't stand.” Gobber offers you a smile, to which your expression drops.

You sigh flatly. “Thank you for summing that up.”

“Look, I'm trying to tell you to stop trying to be what you're not.” Gobber says as you open the door to the house.

“I just.. wanna be one of you guys..” You say, closing the door behind you. 

Gobber sighs sadly, starting to leave, giving you space.

All the space you needed to sneak out of the back of the house. Immediately rushing down the back of the hill the house was set on…

“Either we finish them, or they'll finish us! It's the only way we'll be rid of them! If we find the nest and destroy it, the dragons will leave. They'll find another home! One more search. Before the ice sets in.” 

Stoick looks around the Meade hall, slamming his knife into a map on the table, seeing all the hesitation. 

“Those ships never come back!” One Viking calls out from the end of the long table.

“We're Vikings, it's an occupational hazard. Now who's coming with me?”

“Today's not good for me. I've gotta do my axe returns.” One mumbles.

Stoick leans back from the table. “Alright. Those who stay behind can look after y/n.”

Immediately every hand at the table went up. And Stoick nodded. “That’s more like it.”

Gobber sat at the table, finishing off a tankard of drink. “Alright, I'll pack my undies.”

Stoick came over to him, sitting next to him at the table. “No, I need you to stay here and train some new recruits.”

Gobber mulls over his cup, before replying sarcastically. “Oh, perfect. And while I'm busy, Y/n can cover the stall. Molten steel, razor sharp blades, lots of time to themself... what could possibly go wrong?”

Stoick sighed, slouching slightly. “What am I going to do with them, Gobber?”

“Put them in training like the others.”

“No, I'm serious.”

“So am I.” 

They look at each other, Stoick leaning his arm on the table. “They'd be killed before you let the first dragon out of its cage!”

“You don't know that.” Gobber goes back to his drink.

“I do, actually.”

“No, you don't.” Gobber points a finger at him.

“Listen, you know what their like.” He got up from the table. “From the time they could crawl, they've been… different.”

He walked around the table by the fire against the wall.

“They don't listen,” Gobber chokes on his drink as he listens. “They have the attention span of a sparrow.” Stoick goes on.

Gobber looks into his drink for his missing tooth which he previously choked on.

Stoick is still on. “I take them fishing and they go hunting for- for trolls!”

“Trolls are real!” Gobber points his drink arm at Stoick. “They steal your socks. But only the left ones… what's with that??”

Stoick sighs. “When I was a boy.”

“Oh here we go.” 

“My father told me to bang my head against a rock and I did it. I thought it was crazy, but I didn't question him.” 

Stoick turns. “You know what happened??”

“You got a headache.”

“That rock split in two. It taught me what a Viking could do, Gobber. He could- He could crush mountains, level forests, tame seas!” He gestures loud. “Even as a boy, I knew what I was, what I had to become.” 

Stoick goes and sits at the table again, slouching. “Y/n is not that kid.”

“You can't stop them, Stoick. You can only prepare them. Look, I know it seems hopeless.” Gobber gestures his drink arm.

“But the truth is you won't always be around to protect them. Their going to get out there again. Their probably out there now.”

And he was right. Out the forest at Ravens point, he exasperatedly crossed another X in your book. You'd been searching everywhere for this damn dragon, eventually giving up.

“Oh the gods hate me…” you snapped the book shut. “Some people lose their knife or their mug, not me.”

You scuff your feet. “I manage to lose an entire dragon.” You walk down the path, angrily slapping a tree branch that comes right back at you.

Turning your attention to the part of the part that is disturbed. A large dirt train plowed through the land. 

You frown, following it up to a small hill. As you climb it, your eyes land sight of the dragon. You gasp, your heart racing as you immediately duck down. 

Your eyes go wide as you hide behind the mound, panting. What do you do?? What do you do??

You sat up, immediately searching for your knife. Grabbing it out shakily and holding it like your life depended on it.

You slid down the hill, hiding behind a large rock before poking out. Seeing the dragon tied up and caught in the net you'd flung it into. 

You disastrous human. How could you? How could you do this?

You smiled though, shocked, in pure shock. “Oh wow, this- this fixes everything!” You walked over, putting your foot on its shoulder. “I have brought down this mighty beast-”

The dragon bellows in pain, shrugging its shoulder to push you off, making you jump and scramble back.

You shake and pant as you hold your knife out in front of you, walking closer. You can see the dragon's blue green eyes on you, staring at you.

“I'm going to kill you, dragon. I'm gonna cut out your heart and take it to my father. I'm a Viking. I am a VIKING!” You hold the knife down, pointed at the beast.

The night fury breathes heavily, clearly scared as it stares at you with a sharp gaze, awaiting its horrific fate.

You raise the knife above your head, steeling yourself for the moment, peeling an eye open to look down at the dragon. It still stared at you, helpless, and scared.

You readjust the knife, taking a deep breath. The dragon moans, laying its head down and closing its eyes. Scared, but knowing it's fate. 

And that breaks you. It's the last noise of distress going unheeded to any cruel human that would have found him. 

You attempted to shoo the thought and claim its life, but instead.. you couldn't. You groaned, slumping the knife handle to the top of your head. 

You slumped, rubbing the side of your face and looking at the knife, then the dragon. No, no you couldn't do this. 

“I did this…” You slowly back up, returning to leave, but looking back at those ropes. 

You went back, and you started to cut. The dragon’s eyes shot open in an instant, looking over as you sawed the blade through the ropes and pulled it free. 

As soon as the last rope that freed its legs was off, it jumped at you, growling in your face as it pushed you to the ground.

Your head hit the edge of the rock as its claw kept your chest pinned. You gasped for air, looking up at the dragon, into its sharp eyes. 

The dragon growled down at you as you leaned your face away, your heart pounding. The dragon leaned his arm off your chest, slamming you down and roaring in your face. 

It turned and dashed, flying off, taking off lopsided and flying into a tree. It wailed when it hit the ground and then tried to take off again, wailing in pain as it flew into the fog.

You slowly reached for your knife, clutching your heart as your eyes remained blown wide. 

You tried to stand, your knees shaking like a deer and weak. You felt wheezy and like you would vomit at any moment. Not making it far before hitting the ground with a thud and falling unconscious.

It was late by the time you came home, walking into the house to see your father, Stoick stoking the fire, waiting for you.

You slowly closed the door, seeing him and attempting to rush by and head upstairs. Going full hands and knees rushed, but it was futile. 

“Y/n.”

“Dad, uh…” You swallowed awkwardly, your thoughts immediately rushing back to earlier that day and the shit you'd probably get into if he knew you let a night fury free…

“I uh, have to talk to you, dad…”

Stoick stood, coming over. “I have to talk to you too, y/n.”

Both of you took deep breaths.

“I've decided I don't want-”

“I've decided it's time you learn-”

“To fight dragons. What??”

Stoick clears his throat. “You go first.”

“No, no you go first.” You started to sweat a little, gripping the stairs, feeling your collar getting tight.

“All right.” Stoick sighs, massaging his knuckles. “You get your wish. Dragon training. You start in the morning.”

“Oh, man, I should've gone first!” You panicked a lot, shifting from foot to foot awkwardly, looking away.

“Uh, 'cause I was thinking, you know, we have a surplus of dragon-fighting Vikings, but do we have enough… bread-making Vikings, or small home repair Vikings-?”

Stoick leaned over, picking up an axe. “You'll need this.” He hands it to you, making you huff with the weight on your incredibly toothpick durability, q-tip quality arms.

“Gah-” you panicked, looking at him worriedly. “Dad, I don't want to kill dragons.” You protested. 

Stoick laughed. “Of course you do.”

“Rephrase… Dad, I can't kill dragons.” you held the axe, your legs weak and your stomach churning sickeningly with the thought of being ignored in this.

“But you will kill dragons.”

Your worry grows, gripping the axe. “No, I'm very extra sure that I won't.”

“It's time Y/n.”

“Can you not hear me!?” You ask desperately and exasperated.

“This is serious, y/n.”

He gestured. “When you carry this axe, you carry all of us with you.” Stoick picks the axe up from your arms and adjusts it. 

“Which means you walk like us.” He bunches your shoulders together and fixes your slouch. “You talk like us. You think like us. No more of…. This.” He gestured vaguely to you. 

“You just gestured to all of me.” You pouted.

“Deal??” Stoick asked, making your heart sink at once again being completely ignored.

“This conversation is feeling very one-sided.”

“Deal!?” Stoick repeats.

“Deal…”

“Good.” He nods to you, not even touching you. He picked up his sack for the voyage and his Viking hat. 

“Train hard. I'll be back. Probably.”

“And I'll be here… maybe.”

“Welcome to dragon training.” Gobber says as you all enter the ring. A large stone pit tug into the groups full of armory and cages with chain domed across the top.

Ghost leads the group of teens into the ring, holding his axe firmly in his hand. He looks around, parts of his slightly long blonde hair hanging in front of his sharp brown eyes.

Such a warm color, such a cold stare. “No turning back.” He said to mostly himself, the others checking out the place.

Oh and there's you in the back. Toothpick. 

“I hope I get some serious burns.” Graves says.

“Yeah, I'm hoping for some maulings. Like on my shoulder or my lower back.” Soap commented with a grin.

Ghost spoke up, tilting his head. “Yeah, it's only fun if you get a scar out of it.” He already had a few. From dragon fights? No. But scars nonetheless. He wanted a scar from the dragon's he killed. 

Even if he would have to force the mark. 

You mumbled sarcastically from the background. “Oh yeah… pain, great.. love it..”

They all look back, simultaneously looking at you with disgust, while Ghost just scrunched his nose. “Oh great, who let you in??” Graves complains.

“Let's get started! The recruit who does best will win the honor of killing his first dragon in front of the entire village.” Gobber said, motioning you all into the middle of the rock pit. Closer to your doom.

“Well, Y/n already killed a Night Fury, so, does that disqualify him or…?” Graves smirked at you antagonistically.

“Can I transfer to the class with the cool Vikings?” Soap added on to the taunt as they walked away without you.

Gobber got closer to you, smiling softly. “Don't worry. You're small and you're weak. That'll make you less of a target! They'll see you as sick or insane and go after the more Viking-like teens instead.”

With that Gobber explained the essence of dragon training. Behind each of the doors is a dragon. The training sessions will focus on an aspect of fighting. The person last standing against the dragon is to be the winner of the round.

Whoever wins in the end?? You get a brag tag for a good chunk of years.

Gobber went on. “Behind these doors are just a few of the many species you will learn to fight! The Deadly Nadder!” 

“Speed: eight; Armor: sixteen.” Gaz finally spoke up.

“The Hideous Zippleback!”

“Plus eleven stealth times two.”

“The Monstrous Nightmare!”

“Firepower: fifteen.”

“The Terrible Terror!” 

“Attack: eight; Venom: twelve!”

“CAN YOU STOP THAT?! And... the Gronckle!” Gobber snapped, getting to the last door. He hooked his interchangeable arm to the latch. 

“Woah, hang on- aren't you going to teach us first??” Graves asked in disbelief.

Gobber shrugged. “I believe in learning on the job.”

He pulled the door open and released the Gronckle. The others tensed up and watched the thing as it flew toward them, eyeing them all like snacks.

It swallowed some of the rocks set out and blasted it's fiery molten liquid at you four.

“Today is about survival. If you get blasted... you're dead! Quick! What's the first thing you're going to need?”

“A doctor!?” You cried worriedly.

“Plus five speed!?” Gaz countered.

Ghost eyed the dragon, then around the ring. “A shield!” 

“Shields! Go!” Gobber instructed, Ghost being the first to turn and run for one. 

“Your most important piece of equipment is your shield! If you must make a choice between a sword or a shield, take the shield!” 

You rushed to grab one, picking it up and heaving up the heavy thing. You attempted to find the arm strap, searching rapidly before Gobber came over. 

Exasperation filled as he lifted it up and shoved it gently into your chest.

Graves grabbed a shield with skulls on it, Soap frowning. “Hey!” The only shield left being one with flowers.

“Take that one, that one has flowers.” Graves teased, pouting his lip at Soap. 

“But- ah!” Soap was thrown to the ground when the Gronckle’s tail hit him in the side.

“Soap, you're down.” Gobber called.

“What…??”

“Shields are good for another thing. Making lots of noise. Throw the dragon's aim off!”

You, Ghost, Graves, and Gaz all start banging your shields, the Gronckle's eyes crossing and trying to shake the disorientation off.

“All dragons have a limited number of shots. How many does a Gronckle have?” Gobber asks.

You all circle around the dragon, it's eyes trying to focus on anything. You rush back to a corner, hiding back behind one of the armor walls, holding your shield in the crack. 

Pussy.

“Uh, five??” Graves replies while he rushes away.

“No, six!” Gaz counters. 

“That's correct. Six. One for each of you.”

The Gronckle gets its surroundings back and blasts molten at Gaz’s shield, making him cry with surprise.

“Gaz, you're out!”

Gaz gulps and yells as he runs for safely of the out zone. 

Gobber notices you. “Y/n! Get in there!!”

You attempt to move away from your wall only to get a blast thrown at you. Fearing you scuffling back away, Gobber ones over and pushes you into the ring again.

Ghost faced the Gronckle as it came around again, ready to take it down, distributing his weight well. 

Graves came right up behind him, rolling his shoulders. “So, anyway I'm moving into my parents' basement. You should come by sometime to work out.”

Ghost rolls his eyes and starts to move, Graves looking surprised. “You look like you work out!”

The Gronckle fires it's shot for Ghost at Graves, hitting his shield. “Graves! You're done!”

Ghost rolled over next to you, both of you the only two left. You looked nervously over at him. He's so cool. Just a tad taller than you. Lanky but you can see he has muscle definition on his arms. 

He's just.. ah! A real Viking. That's what your dad wants you to be.

“I uh.. guess it's just you and me now huh?” You ask him nervously.

He glowers before lifting his head. “Nope, just you.” He dashes out of the way, the Gronckle fires. 

“Gah!!” You raise your shield to take the blow meant for Ghost. The shield knocks from your hand, barely missing you. 

Without shield and one shot left you run back for your shield, the Gronckle hot on your track. The shield rolls away from you across the ground, looking back and you panic seeing the dragon right there.

“One shot left! Y/n!” Gobber calls.

It manages to corner you to the wall. Face right against your chest. Your heart pounds, your limbs feel cold and rigid, and on fire all at once. 

It opens its mouth and down its throat the molten glow of its last shot, before a hook pulls it away. It blasts it's shot into the wall and you cover your head, curling up.

Gobber drags the dragon back away.

“And that's six! Go back to bed, ya overgrown sausage!” He shoves it back into the pen and closes the door.

“You'll get another chance, don't you worry.” He says to you as he walks back over, bending down. “Remember: a dragon will always- always- go for the kill.”

He grabs your arm and picks you up. You looked at the wall where the charred remains of the burn flickered down the rock incline…

Leading you back to the site of the crash, your curiosities got to you as you picked up one of the rocks on the bola. Where you'd freed the night fury from.

“So… why didn't you??” 

Why hadn't the dragon gone for the kill. You would have stabbed it, you had a weapon for crying out loud! It had every opportunity… and it didn't.

You place the bola down, standing and hopping over a log. Walking the path down to a split between two rock digs. You slipped through the small passage, which opened up. 

The tall rock face harbors trees and a small lake. It was nice… peaceful. The tall walls of rock keep it hidden and closed.

“This was stupid.” You say, moments before looking over and seeing a couple of black scales resting down the dirt incline down into the small crop.

The dragon.

You kneel down and pick one up, looking it over before hearing a roar. In an instant you jump back in fear as the Night Fury dives up over the small passage, climbing at the walls.

It's claws dig in, scrambling frantically and attempting to flap its wings and get over the edge of the rock.

You watched as it wailed and gave up, falling back and gliding awkwardly over the pond and landing on its side across on the other side.

Pant, scared but fascinated. Watched the dragon moan in sadness and pain. You hop down from the ledge, scrambling onto another rock stool and watch the night fury as it moves about.

It tries several more times to fly. Flapping its wings and hopping up but never managing to pull itself over the ledge. Crying angrily as it lands.

Your eyes widen, pulling out your sketchbook. No Night Fury had ever been recorded, you had to do this. Wow wow.

You quickly sketched up a drawing of the dragon, watching it snarl angrily. 

“Why don't you just.. fly away??” 

The dragon snarls and shoots a plasma blast at the ground.

Looking at the dragon you notice it only has one tail fin, while your drawing has two. You rub away the charcoal with your sleeve, your curiosities only growing.

The dragon tries to fly, swerving along the rock and slamming down onto the ground. It whines in pain, it's nose near the water's edge. Noticing some fish. It perks up in hope, diving its head into the water, but the fish are fast enough to escape its attempts.

It whines, still hungry.

In a moment of weakness, you feel bad for the creature. Why was this happening, why was it stuck here?? Your pencil rolled from between your fingers. 

Your eyes widened but before you could grab it it fell down the steep rock. Bouncing on the rocks and attracting the Night Fury’s attention.

You froze, and it froze. Both of you are looking at each other. It glares at you, growling low. But it looks.. curious in a way.

When you finally make your way to the Meade hall it's late. You'd spent all your time watching the night fury and becoming so fascinated that you didn't care to come back. Until now.

Walking in and seeing the other teens gathered around Gobber. Talking over strategies and what happened in the ring.

“Now, how did Ghost go wrong today??”

“I mistimed my somersault dive. It was sloppy. It threw off my reverse tumble.” Ghost said with some sarcasm as he poked at his food.

“Yeah, we noticed.” Soap mumbles.

“No no, you were great. That was so… “Ghost.”” Graves said, once again attempting to land an unflattering attempt.

“He's right, you have to be tough on yourselves.” Gobber notices you walk in soaked, coming to the table. “Where did Y/n go wrong?”

“Uh, they showed up??” Soap said.

“Their didn't get eaten??” Graves said.

“Their never where they should be.” Ghost said, watching you with a nasty look as you scoot yourself over to the next table, knowing you weren't welcome around them.

Gobber walked over to you. “Thank you, Ghost.” He smacks Soap and Graves in the head. “You need to live and breathe this stuff. The dragon manual.” He holds up a book. 

Leather bound with a dragon symbol burned into the front, tied with string to keep old pages together.

He cleared a part of the table and put the book down. “Everything we know about every dragon we know of.”

Thunder crackled overhead, Gobber sighed, knowing lightning to come. “No attacks tonight. Study up for tomorrow.” 

“Wait, you mean, read??” Graves frowned, crossing his arms.

“Well maybe it would do you some good.” Gaz spoke up.

“Shut your mouth, I don't need to read nothing! Why read words when you can just kill the stuff the words tell you about??”

“Oh! I've read it like, seven times. There's this water dragon that sprays boiling water at your face. And- And there's this other one that buries itself for like a week-”

“Yeah, that sounds great. So there's a chance I was going to read it…” Soap starts.

“But not now.” Graves says, causing Soap to glare at him a little.

Even if they all were irritable brats at the age of sixteen, they all had some kind of friendship with each other. Some kind… more than they had with you. Because you're a loser. 

Your eyes drift back over to Ghost who hadn't said a word about the book while the others bicker. Dragging his knuckles along the side of his tankard. 

You could see the scars that started just before his wrist guards hid them away. Occasional Knicks and scratches along his arms and biceps. 

Must have been from falls or accidents because he'd not properly fought a dragon or a hunter…

The others move from the table to go back home. You get up, going to the book by where Ghost sat. “So I guess we’ll… share??”

“Read it.” He pushed the book, getting up and walking off.

“Oh, uh, all mine, then. Wow. So, ok, I'll see you…” You looked up as the door shut. They were already gone…

The hall was dark with only you in it. You sat down at the table with a candle and opened the book.

Dragon classifications. Strike Class, Fear Class, Mystery Class.

You started to read. Reading through the book, the endings of each of the entries being extremely deadly: kill on sight.

Each page. Extremely deadly: kill on sight.

You continued to flip the pages. “Burns its victims, buries its victims, chokes its victims, turns its victims inside-out.”

“Extremely dangerous, extremely dangerous, kill on sight, kill on sight, kill on sight…” 

Through every page of every class. Until you got to the end.

You flipped the last page. At the top it said Night Fury. The page being otherwise almost completely empty.

“Night Fury: Speed, unknown. Size, unknown. The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself. Never engage this dragon.” 

You hesitated on the last part. “Your only chance: Hide and pray it does not find you.”

You pulled out your sketchbook, dropping the sketch of the Night Fury on the page. You had found a Night Fury. It had let you close. It .. hadn't killed you.

You stood the next day in the training ring, in the middle of a training session. Holding your shield and axe, you shifted from one foot to the other. Surrounded by a maze of tall builds all put together for the Deadly Nadder to find and kill you.

“You know, I just happened to notice the book had nothing on Night Furies. Is there another book? Or a sequel? Maybe a little Night Fury pamphlet?”

The Deadly Nadder jumps atop one of the lofts, firing at you, taking off the head of your axe. “Gah!”

“Focus y/n! You're not even trying!” Gobber scolds. 

“Today is all about ATTACK! Nadders are quick and light on their feet! Your job is to be quicker and lighter!” Gobber continues.

Gaz gasped, running away as the Nadder searches him out. Throwing spikes from its tail at him, sinking into the wall above his head and his shield.  “Ah!! I'm really starting to question your teaching methods!!”

Gobber, undeterred, continues. “Look for it's Blindspot. Every dragon has one. Find it, hide in it, and strike.”

You rush by as Soap turns a corner, coming face to snout with the Nadder. He gasps, holding in a breath as it moves its head, attempting to stay in the Blindspot. 

“Steamin’ hell… this thing stinks.” He wheezes. “Do you ever bathe??” He gags, trying to cover his mouth.

The Nadder turns its head, growling and spitting fire at him. “Ah!”

“Blind spot? Yes. Deaf spot? Not so much.” Gobber grins, leaning his face against his palm as he watched from above the chain net. 

Seeing Ghost running through the intricate maze, you hanging on his tail like a mouse finding safety with the cat.

You pause, looking up at Gobber. “Hey, so how would one sneak up on a Night Fury?”

“No one's ever seen one and loved to tell the tale.” He snaps his fingers. “Now get in there!!”

“Y/n.” Ghost whispers your name. You turn to see Ghost kneeled down by one of the platforms, Graves behind him, nodding to you to be quiet. You skip over, hiding against the wall.

Ghost pokes his head out, seeing the Nadder coming around. He hides again, taking a deep breath and preparing himself before rolling forward on his shield. 

He pushes off, hiding behind the next wall, Graves following and doing the same. When you attempt it, the shield does not follow your small body through the roll, trapping you against the ground.

The Nadder sees you, and runs. “Gah!” You scramble up and run. The Nadder roars and flies up on top of the walls, jumping down in front of Ghost. 

He readied himself but Graves pushed him aside. “Watch out babe, I'll take care of this.”

“Hey!” Ghost growls at him, seething at him as he throws his weapon, completely missing.

The Nadder growls, Ghost glaring at him. “The sun was in my eyes, Ghost.” The Nadder roars, Ghost making a run for it away from that meat head. 

“What do you want me to do?? Block out the sun? I could do that, but I don't have time!” He dodges the attack, running after Ghost as the Nadder makes chase.

Graves continues rambling, looking back and making a swift turn down another aisle. Ghost looks back, gasping and crying as the Nadder is seconds away from him. He dashes around the corner and turns, slamming into the wall.

The Nadder follows, roaring at him as Ghost scrambles and runs, the walls starting to knock over from the collision.

You were still rambling to Gobber like an idiot. “Like so they take the daytime off?? Like a cat. Has anyone ever seen one, napping??”

Gobber looks up from his bored expression as Graves run by. 

“Y/n!” 

The walls of the maze collapse, the Nadder snapping at Ghost’s heels as he jumps up across one of the falling walls. He jumps to another wall, and you're right in his landing path.

“Y/n!!” He yells, and jumps. You scramble back, falling on the ground as he lands with a thud on top of you.

“Ooh,” Soap teases. 

Ghost glares at you, shoving your face away and attempting to stand, his axe lodged in your shield. 

“Hey, why- let me… why don't you…?” He shoves your chest down, standing up, his knee between your legs causing you to gasp in pain. 

He does not care. Grabbing his axe angrily trying to pry it away. The Nadder turns back, readying its shot for you and Ghost.

Ghost sees it and grows more panicked, grabbing his axe, his foot landing on your cheek. “Ow! Ow! Ow!!”

He attempts to pull his axe away as the Nadder comes closer.

He finally pries it from your arm and swings his axe at the Nadder’s face, your shield splintering. 

The Nadder cries in pain and turns, walking off. Ghost pants, looking off in panic as he grips his axe.

“Well done, Ghost.” Gobber commends.

Ghost doesn't respond, the interaction having a grip on his core. Before his fear replaced with anger and he turned to you, curled up in the fetal position.

“Is this some kind of a joke to you!? Our parents' war is about to become ours!” He points his axe at you. “Figure out which side you're on.” 

Back to trying again with the Night Fury. You head down to the cove, bringing a new shield. Propping it between two rocks and tossing a fish into the open. You slide under it, crawling on your hands and knees.

Once on the other side you attempt to pry the shield out but it's stuck. You sigh, heading over to the fish and picking it up by under the fin. 

You look around, slowly walking into the open. Feeling slightly panicky, but you've had decent luck with this dragon so far. What with it not eating you the first time. 

Perhaps it was wise enough to know you weren't worth it. You'd be more of a chew toy than a hefty meal.

You walk along the pond, looking around for the night fury, aware it had eyes on you minutes earlier. It peers out from a rock as it watches you pass. It's eyes focus on you, tail swishing.

Finally it comes down from the rock, and you see it from your peripheral. You gasp, gripping the fish tight as the dragon comes down and around, sniffing the snack in your hand, growling at you.

You hold the fish out. Would it take it?? It cranes its body sideways like a cat, tilting its head and sniffing the treat. 

It's pupils softening before growling and jumping back. Your hand retreats with the fish, gasping softly. 

You pull your sweater open, your knife tucked into your clothes. When you reach for it, the dragon snarls. 

You gasp, feeling your heartbeat picking up again, slowly removing the knife and dropping it.

The dragon's ears go down, growling away, and you kick the knife away into the pond.

Afterwhich, the dragon relaxes, pupils softening again. It sits, ear flicking. It continues to hold its body arched like a cat as it comes over when you extend the fish again.

“Ah, Toothless.” You say, seeing his gummy mouth and lack of teeth. “I could have sworn you had-” His teeth suddenly snap out and he snatches the fish from your hands. 

Your eyes widen as he scarfs down the snack. “-Teeth…”

He enjoys his snack before looking back at you, lowering his head and coming over.

“Ah, ah.. uh, I don't have any more.” You stammer, backing up and tripping over your heel back against a rock.

Toothless gurgled, looking at you before starting to regurgitate his food. You tense up, cringing a little when he spits up part of the fish in your lap.

“Ugh…”

He sits back, looking at you expectantly. His eyes move from the fish, then to you when you do nothing.

You sigh, hesitantly taking a bite of the food, retching it up, putting a hand over your mouth and forcing yourself to swallow it.

Toothless perks up, you shudder and look up at him, attempting to smile after that…. Delicious cuisine.

You smile awkwardly. Toothless frowns, before attempting to smile back. His lip twitching and showing his gummy smile that he gives you. 

Your eyes widen a little. This… was not a kill on sight dragon. This wasn't something you'd slaughter for sport. 

He was smiling at you. Why, from all the dragon's you'd ever been taught about, the most deadly was smiling at you. Sharing his food…

You slowly stand, extending your hand, to which Toothless’ smile drops. He growls, and flies off, crying as he spirals against the wind, only able to drift and hit the ground a ways away. 

He huffs against the dirty, slowly getting up and shaking himself off. He walks over to a small hill, blasting a controlled amount of heat against the ground, charring it into a nice warm bed.

He looks up at a bird in its nest, chirping and flying away. And then… he sees you. How unsightly. No one wants to see that before bed.

He groans and curls up. Folding in his wings and wrapping his tail around his face to keep him well hidden and secured.

You smile, inching a little closer. You boldly reach out to touch his tail, but Toothless is one step ahead. He lifts his tail, huffing at you. 

You quickly stand, wobbling on shaky legs and awkwardly walking away from him. Toothless stares dully, getting up and moving from his spot, somewhere you surely couldn't get him.

Hanging from… a tree. Such an odd dragon.

You let him be. Sitting on a rock a couple feet away. Wasting away the time until the evening rolled around and Toothless slowly came out of his nap.

Moving his tail and looking over at you, drawing in the dirt with a stick.

He gurgled, hopping down and quietly coming over to see what you were doing.

You rested your cheek against your fist, aimlessly drawing a little figure of Toothless in the dirt.

Toothless watches curiously, purring a growl and getting up on his back legs. He waddled away. You look back when you hear the snapping of a tree branch. 

Toothless comes back with his own drawing stick, purring and trailing it around in the dirt.

You watch him in shock and surprise as toothless drags the stick around, smiling and clutching it tight in his mouth. 

He purrs as he swirls and twists around, finally finishing his creation of spirals and mapping trails between you and him.

You finally stand, looking around at what he's created. All the lines and the paths. You walk out toward one of the lines. When your foot steps on it, Toothless growls. 

It shocks you a little, looking over at him and quickly taking your foot off the line. Toothless raises his head, purring at you in response.

You put your foot on the line, and he growls.

Taking it off, Toothless purred.

You did it a couple of times before understanding. It's trust. Toothless is offering trust. You smile softly, stepping over the line, aware of where your feet when as he stepped around and over the lines. 

Finally stopping with your back to Toothless. You sink a little, feeling a warm breath fan across the nape of your neck and down your back.

You turn and look up at him. Toothless’ gaze is soft. You pant softly, reaching your hand up. Toothless pulls his head away slightly, growling a little.

You pull your hand back, looking into his eyes. So you turn away. Closing your eyes and extending your hand again. 

Toothless’ eyes soften. He looks at your palm, leaning his head forward and hesitating, before gently leaning his nose into your palm, closing his eyes.

You exhale softly in surprise, feeling it. Toothless… trusts you. This was trust.

You looked up at Toothless. His eyes narrow again. He pulled away, wriggling his nose and huffing before dashing off.

The incident didn't leave your mind. Even when you went home, you couldn't face anyone after the thought of Toothless. 

Sat atop the watch tower with Gobber and the others, roasting food over the crackling fire while he went on about a tale.

You weren't particularly listening, your gaze focused on your fingers, slowly turning the stick that was jabbed through your fish.

“...And with one twist, he took my hand, and swallowed it whole!” Gobber waved his stick, with a whole chicken on the end of it. 

“And I saw the look on his face: I was delicious. He must have passed the word, because it wasn't a month before another one of them took my leg.”

Gaz frowned in concentration, digging into his food. “Isn't it weird to think that your hand was inside a dragon?” He motioned one of the meat legs toward Ghost, who glared and shifted away.

What was that idiots problem. Ghost was close to biting his arm off.

“Like if your mind was still in control of it, you could have killed the dragon from the inside by... crushing his heart, or something.” Gaz continued, Graves staring at him from across the firepit as it grew silent.

“Right…” Graves muttered. “I swear, I'm so angry right now! I'll avenge your beautiful hand and your beautiful foot. I'll chop off the legs of every dragon I fight. With my face!” 

“Un-unh. It's the wings and the tails you really want. If it can't fly, it can't get away. A downed dragon is a dead dragon.” Gobber said, snapping a leg off his chicken.

Your eyes slowly widen. Toothless. Toothless was down. That's the first thing you'd listened to all night. Pulled from your stupor of pointless thoughts.

Gobber yawned and got up. “Alright. I'm off to bed. You should be, too. Tomorrow we get to the big boys. Slowly but surely making our way up to the Monstrous Nightmare. But who'll win the honor of killing it?”

“It's gonna be me! It's my destiny, see??” Soap rolled up his sleeve, showing his arm.

“Woah, your mom let you get a tattoo??”

“It's not a tattoo, it's a birthmark.”

“I've known you literally since we were babies, and I've never seen that.” Graves replies. 

“Yes, it was. You've just never seen me from the left side until now.”

After hearing what Gobber had said about dragons, your interests turn to the forge. If you're going to get Toothless out of there alive you'd need to help him. 

It wouldn't be on his own…

Ghost watched you, cold gaze following as you walked away from the fire and back down the watch tower. 

You headed to the forge quickly, pulling out your sketchbook and laying it out on the table. Alright, now for something that could help Toothless. Time to get to work.

You worked long into the night. Heating the forge and putting together a device that you knew would help. You worked until your eyes were heavy and the sunrise poked over the edge of the water.

Finally putting out the flames and grabbing what you could, you headed back to the house. Stumbling inside and slumping into your hard bed for just an ounce of sleep.

After a bit of rest and recuperating you headed out a few hours later, ready to help Toothless. Your plan was foolproof. And you brought along a giant basket of fish just for it.

When you got back to the cove, Toothless was waiting for you. “Hey Toothless, I brought you some fish.” You set down the basket and kicked it over with your foot. “We've got some salmon, some nice Icelandic cod…”

Toothless began to sniff through the fish, nudging through to find the good stuff.

“And a whole smoked eel…” You slowly stepped around the pile when toothless growled. He backed up, snarling at the pile. 

You tilted your head and reached in, pulling out the eel. Toothless saw it and expanded his wings in defense, roaring loudly.

“No, no no no! It's ok!” You quickly threw the eel away and placed out your hand to him, your contraption firmly under the other.

He huffed and you wiped your hand on your coat. “Yeah, I don't much like eel either…”

And Toothless went sniffing through the pile of fish again, wolfing down a few without wasting time.

“That's it…” you slowly backed up behind him. “That's it. Just stick with the good stuff.” 

You slowly set up the wing you'd made. “And don't you mind me I'll be back here…  minding my own business…”

You attempted to wrangle Toothless’ tail. Strapping the belts around it as he dug around the basket. Having to sit on his tail and gently spread open the fabric.

When you finally got it hooked on, you sat back. “Hey, doesn't look half bad.”

Toothless’ head perked up as soon as he felt it. A weight on his other tail. He slowly patted his feet into the ground. He could fly… he could fly.

Toothless spread his wings, and took off. “Woah! Whooaa!!” You gasped, seeing the ground suddenly falling away from you. You leaned down, grabbing and holding onto Toothless’ tail tightly.

“No no no!!” You cried as Toothless darted for the coves edge. You watched wide eyed, your adrenaline pumping.

The tail had closed and was flailing in the wind, Toothless starting to lose air. 

Oh fuck oh fuck. You managed to pry one sweaty hand from his tail and pull it open. Toothless caught air and zoomed up into the sky. 

“Oh, my…! It's working!!” You cried as Toothless flew away from the island. He twisted in the air, flying back over the cove and back across the pond. 

“Yes! Yes! I did it!”

Toothless looked back. What the?? Why is this toothpick still hanging on to me!? 

He twisted upside down and flicked his tail, tossing you into the pond and flew away. 

Losing control of himself, he shrieked as he slammed back into the ground across the lake. He looked at the folded in tail angrily. 

You swam above the water furiously, smiling. “Yeah!” You splashed.

The next day at training you were faced with the Hideous Zippleback. Teamed up with Gaz, your goal was to work together to disarm the two headed dragon of its abilities.

One head spreading flammable gas, the other head lights that gas.

“Razor sharp, serrated teeth that inject venom for pre-digestion. Prefers ambush attack, by crushing its victims-”

You frowned at Gaz, gripping your bucket tight. “Would you please stop that!?”

As more gas filled the arena, Graves and Soap turned back to back, looking around for any sign of the dragon.

“If that dragon shows either of his faces, I'm gonna- there!” Graves spotted something through the gas, both him and Soap frantically throwing their buckets of water.

The gas cleared, and there stood hell itself. A soaking. Wet. Ghost.

Oh.

“Oh it's just Ghost, we thought you were a dragon!” Soap shrinks back, smiling like an awkward idiot. 

“Well, clearly,” he snapped coldly. “I am not!”

“Well, your butts big like a dragon.”

Graves hit Soap with his elbow. “Not that there's nothing wrong with a…” Ghost was already marching toward him.

“dragon-esque figure- Ow!” 

Ghost punched him hard in the nose, sending him back. He landed on his butt, before he could get up something snatched him into the gas.

Ghost put his arm in front of Soap. “Wait.” He whispered. 

There was a cry and Graves ran from the smoke. “Ow! Ow!”

Gaz gulped, you and him still back to back. “Chances of survival are dwindling in the single digits now…”

One of the dragon's heads peered out from the smoke and came toward you two. Sharp yellow eyes trained on Gaz.

“Woah, Woah!” He scrambled back as it cornered him, and he threw his bucket of water onto it.

The dragon rippled a growl, gas billowing from beyond its maw. 

“Oh… wrong head.” He smiled awkwardly. It drenched Gaz in gas, Gobber calling out for him, and Gaz made a run for it.

Leaving you the last one with a water bucket. Both of the heads now coming around, the dragon facing you from both sides. 

One of the heads created sparks between its teeth.

“Now y/n!” Gobber said.

You raised your water bucket. “Eh.” You threw it up, the water barely hitting the dragon. “Oh come on…”

You. Are completely… and utterly useless… be thankful you have a dragon now or you would not survive let me tell you. 

The dragon surrounded you. “Y/n!” Gobber yelled, coming over.

But I admit, what you lack in physical strength you make up in your capacity to learn. 

Standing up slowly, the dragon snarled and whipped back. You pulled the eel from your vest, holding it out to them.

“Back! Back!” You snapped, the dragon snarling and backing away from the eel.

“That's right! Back in your cage!” You corralled it back in, slamming the door shut with all the might you had. Which isn't much.

The others watched. Ghost’s signature glare burning into your skin. This was fucking ridiculous.

You clapped your hands together. “So uh… are we done??” They all stared at you wordlessly. “Because I uh.. I got some stuff to do so I'll just… yeah. See you tomorrow!”

You smiled, spending the rest of the day at the forge. Creating some more things you could use in your adventures with Toothless.

Putting together a saddle.

You brought it to Toothless and when he saw it he smiled. Perking up and running away. “Hey!” You laughed, running after him. 

Toothless gurgled and fled around the ground as you chased after him.

After getting the saddle on you learned pretty quickly you'd need some way to hold on. After a failed fly test force Toothless to panic and throw you off his back into the water again. 

No problem, just a little waist retainer was all that was needed. Hooking it onto the saddle and having another go.

The second time was slightly better. You'd tied a rope around your ankle that would help you pull the tail fin open. 

Toothless roared when you tried again, losing control in the air just after getting out of the cove. 

“Hold hold ha!!” You cried as Toothless squirmed and fell into a bed of tall dragon nip. 

You stumbled, looking around the tall grass and going back to see Toothless rolling around comfortably in the grass. Relaxing fully in total relaxation.

Huh. Odd. 

You picked up some of the nip, looking at it curiously. Again, it's best you have a bigger head than bigger biceps. 

When faced with a Gronckle for the next training exercise, you ended things quickly. It crashed into Graves and went for you. You held up the dragon nip you had taken and it immediately slowed down.

The Gronckle crashed to the ground and you rubbed the dragon nip against its nose. 

The villagers gathered around the top of the pit to watch you in awe, the village elder also noticing how much you'd suddenly improved your dragon prowess in recent days. 

After which all the teens were gathered around you. Well, almost all of them.

“Wow, how did you do that??” Soap asked.

“I never would have thought about that-” Gaz piped up.

“I've never even seen a Gronckle do that!” Graves blurted. 

Ghost trained behind, watching as you laughed awkwardly. “Oh I uh, I left my axe in the ring.” You turned, bumping into Ghost as you did. 

He jumped, pushing you lightly and you went around him. “Sorry, sorry.” 

They watched, the others smiling excitement. Ghost glaring down your whole existence.

Spending more time with Toothless, you began to introduce the fondness of scratches and pets. Scratching the patches of scales along his neck and ear fins.

Toothless groaned, leaning up into it, turning his head and closing his eyes. You scratched under his chin and he went limp, falling to the ground with a content exhale. 

The next day, back in training. 

Ghost yelled, throwing his axe at the deadly Nadder that turned, running back over to you two. It roared loudly, pushing Ghost to the ground, skinning his upper arm. 

You readied yourself, quickly dropping the axe as the Nadder ran to you. 

Ghost scrambled back up, grabbing his axe. His heart pounded as he lifted it and ran. You noticed him and turned quickly to the Nadder.

You reached up, scratching behind its ear, down to its chin and right… there.

The Nadder dropped, happily out for a nap.

Ghost panted, lowering his axe in disbelief. You smiled at him and shrugged.

This continued on. Spending time with Toothless you learned he was just like a cat. 

Using a hammer to shine a light across the ground, you watched with amusement as Toothless chased after it. Hopping and purring to catch it.

Training faced you with the Terrible Terror. Which admittedly you didn't expect it to be as small as it was.

“Meet the Terrible Terror.”

A small door attached to the main door opened, like a cat door. The tiny dragon scuttling out, licking its eyeball, staring at you all.

“Aw, it's like the size of my- ah!!” Soap jumped back as the Terror jumped at him. You all scattered as Soap landed on the ground, the terror chewing on his nose. 

“Oh I am hurt, I am very much hurt!”

The Terror perked up, seeing a light moving across the ground. It flicked its tail, smiling and rushing from Soap after the light. 

You guided it with the shiny part of your shield back into its small hut, closing the door with your foot.

“Wow, he's better than you ever were.” Soap rubs his nose, looking at Ghost.

After which you spent more time working on a harness and a better string attachment for the tail fin.

When rushed through the woods up ran into Ghost, throwing his axe into different trees, training his aim.

He raised his axe, pausing when he saw you. You two looked at each other, and then you rushed off. You couldn't let him see Toothless. 

When Ghost turned to follow after you, you had somehow already disappeared. 

Fuck!

You began to work on the positions of your contraption with Toothless. Strapping him to a tree stump so you could write down the number of each foot turn.

Able to move your heel and shift the position of the tailfin through the rope.

“Position one.” You shifted the lever, writing it down on your little piece of paper. “And position two.” He shifts it, Toothless' wings catching air and the rope snapped. 

“Gah!” You gasped as you were thrown back to the ground. 

Toothless groaned and rolled over, pulling you up by the waist, the waist retainer stuck to the clip of Toothless' saddle.

“Oh brother…”

Forced to drag Toothless back to the village while still tangled together, you snuck past a few guards and led him into the smithing shop. 

You looked around for something to pry the hook open, Toothless shoving his nose in a basket. When he flicked it off, it hit one of the weapons on the wall, causing noise.

Ghost who was passing, heading back, begrudgingly home, heard it.

He walked over to the smithing window. “Y/n?? Are you in there??”

Both you and Toothless looked up. You quickly dropped what you were doing and pushed yourself out the smithing window, looking at him. 

“Ghost- hi, Ghost. Hi, hi… hi Ghost.” You fumbled with the waist trainer. Toothless sniffing around and pulling you back against the doors.

Toothless looked around, spotting a sheep. The sheep spotted him, immediately rushing away. 

“I normally don't care what people do but you're acting weird.”. Ghost points an accusatory finger. “Well, weirder.”

You huffed, stumbling back. The trainer lifted you off your feet. Ghost stared at you as the doors of the smithing window gave in and sucked you back. Ghost immediately rushed over and opened it, seeing the smelter empty. 

You and Toothless sneaking away and flying off. That. Was. Way too close…

That day was the day your father arrived back. One of the boats with several holes in it and barely survived. Their search for a nest of dragons once again produced no fruit.

Gobber was there when Stoick arrived back. “Well, I trust you found the nest at least?”

“Not even close.” He growled, walking past with a fixed frown.

“Oh. Excellent.” Gobber said sarcastically, following Stoick. 

“I hope you had a little more success than me.”

“Well, if by success, you mean that your parenting troubles are over with, then... yes.” He took a basket of supplies over his shoulder while he walked.

Various different Vikings congratulating Stoick on his kid actually becoming vikinglike. Can you imagine that eh?

“Their gone??” Stoick asked.

“Yeah... most afternoons. But who can blame them? I mean the life of a celebrity's very rough. They can barely walk through the village without being swarmed by his new fans.” Gobber replied.

“Y/n??”

“Who would have thought it eh? He has this… way with the beasts.”

Stoick’s eyes widened. Yes. What he'd been waiting for your entire life!

Off somewhere near the edge of the island, you were busy with Toothless. Having written up your complete cheat sheet, you secured the small paper with all of your positions to Toothless' saddle. Slowly gliding through the air.

“Alright bud we're gonna take this nice and slow” You looked over the sheet. “Here we go, here we go. Position…” 

“Three. No… four.” You looked down at the foot pedal and positioned it, the tail fin opening. Toothless looked down at it, wiggling his head and getting used to it. 

The gentle glide turned into a slow fly, Toothless guiding with your help through the winds, his wings catching air flawlessly.

Toothless flew you up into the air, passing some clouds. You held on, looking back at the tail fin. “Alright. It's go time, it's go time.”

Toothless roared and dove down toward the sea stacks littering around the island ocean.

“Come on buddy! Come on buddy!” You encourage. You held onto the saddle tightly when Toothless flew down over the water, the waves lapping up to touch his belly as you went by. 

You looked up as you passed through two connected sea stacks, watching the birds startle and fly off. “Yes, it worked!” 

The tail was holding up so far.

You flew up away from the water, attempting to make a turn and throwing Toothless into a sea stack. He growled and flapped violently. “Sorry!” You winced.

Barely recovering you saw another stack, attempting to pull him up sharply and hitting another. He growled again. “It was my fault.” You cringed.

He hit you with his ear. “Yeah yeah, I'm on it. Position four- uh, three.” You shifted the foot pedal and took off into the sky. Soaring up over the sea stacks and into the fluffy clouds.

“Yeah!! Aw this is nice. The wind in my -” the paper attached to the saddle flew off and into the wind. “Cheat sheet!” You reached back to try and grab it. 

“Stop!!” 

Toothless flapped his wings, halting as best he could, sending you forward. The hook on the waist belt and the saddle came off. 

“No!!” Toothless saw you and panicked, falling back and scrambled. “No!! Oh no!!” You yelled as you fell and spiraled in the sky down toward the sea.

Toothless roared when he saw you falling faster than him. “Oh, gods! Oh, no!!” You cried your lungs out.

“Alright! You gotta kind angle yourself!” You flipped onto your back, trying to help Toothless. “Okay, no, no, no... come back down towards me! Come back down-- YOW!” Toothless’ tail smacked you as you fell. 

You flipped onto your front, reaching out to grab the hook on the saddle, just out of reach. 

Toothless wailed and cried when you finally grabbed it, managing to pull yourself on. Reattaching and gripping the saddle, angled downward. 

The cheat sheet hit you in the face and you grabbed it, putting it between your teeth. You zoomed straight toward a downward plain of trees, trying to pull Toothless back up.

He roared and whined, zooming down at an angle over the trees, his wings catching wind. As you zoomed down to the bottom you pulled the cheat sheet again. With all the wind you couldn't read anything on it.

Looking between the sheet and some sea stacks, you tossed the sheet,grabbing the saddle and readjusting the foot pedal. 

Toothless roared and zoomed to the side, making the corner before you could hit the stones.

You zoomed through the various passages, shifting the foot pedal again through the fog. Coming shooting out the other side into the clear open air. 

You panted, blood pumping with adrenaline. “Yeah!!” You raised your arms. Toothless smiled and shit a blast into the air, ruining your celebration. “Come on…”

You were pummeled into the fire, pushing your hair back and covering your clothes in specs of dirt and char. 

You flew with Toothless some more, your adventure leading you back to a sea stack, there you got some fish and made a small fire.

Toothless laid down, retching up one of his fish heads while you leaned back against him, cooking your own dinner over the fire.

“Uh, no thanks, I'm good.” You refused the fish head. 

Some small dragons spotted you and flew over to your little set up. Those tiny Terrible Terrors. Toothless growled, protecting his fish as they came over, snapping at one.

You watched as one of them grabbed the head of the fish Toothless had belched up and shot at another dragon who tried to take it.

Toothless watches unimpressed, when his food started moving. One of the dragon's trying to sneak a fish from his pile. Toothless growled, grabbing the fish in his teeth and pulling it back. 

The Terror whined, causing toothless to bellow a low laugh. 

The Terror squeaked and stood up, snapping at Toothless. 

You looked between the two as it stood up on its back legs and inhaled. Before it could do anything Toothless shot a small blast at it, inflating it and it puffed out smoke, whining. 

You chuckled. “Not so fireproof on the inside are ya?” You tossed one of your fish. “Here ya go.” It scuttled over and wolfed it down quickly. 

Licking its eyeball and cautiously wandering over to you. It whines, curling up beside you, purring softly.

“Everything we know about you guys… It's wrong.”

Unfortunately it won't let me post this much so to read the rest of it please see the reblog I did for the rest of the post. ❤

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick #httyd #httyd x cod crossover #httyd/cod #call of duty/how to train your dragon #how to train your dragon #how to train your dragon 1 script #platonic x reader #reader insert #cod crossover #fandom crossover #script fic #two part fic #simon ghost riley x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #toothless with reader

[sirfrogsworth]

Flamin' Not

Eva Longoria directed a movie about Flamin' Hot Cheetos. It is supposed to depict a real life Latino rags-to-riches story.

It's about a poor Mexican-American, Richard Montañez, who got a job as a janitor in a Frito-Lay factory and saved it from shutting down by inventing the "Flamin' Hot" line of products.

It was not terrible. Though it came very close to feeling like a Hallmark movie. But as I was watching it, the story felt very formulaic and a bit too... feel good. Like a bullshit fish story an uncle might tell you in order to seem cool. True stories usually aren't quite so tidy and trope-tastic.

Reality usually has some weirdness that is very difficult to capture when writing fiction. Like, in the movie about Reality Winner where they used a real life transcript, there were things a writer could never imagine. In one scene a random FBI dude opens the door and says, "Is this a room?"

So I was real suspicious there could be some Flamin' Hot nonsense in this movie. I figured they just took some dramatic license as many "based on a true story" movies do. I decided to look up the real life Richard and see how close his actual story was compared to the movie.

Turns out... it was a complete work of fiction.

He made it all up.

The only part that was true... he was a janitor at Frito-Lay and eventually got promoted to their Hispanic marketing department.

After he left the company he just started telling people he invented Flamin' Hot. And since the internet wasn't very robust yet, people were just like, "Yeah, okay. Neat."

He came up with an entire narrative with backstory and side characters and humorous anecdotes and a thrilling climax where his neighborhood drug dealers took samples to the street for some guerilla marketing to spread the word about spicy Cheetos--saving an entire factory and hundreds of jobs.

And in the less cynical 1990s, people just accepted it as the truth.

Companies would hire him to give motivational speeches. Eventually he wrote a book about his fake story. And he tours around the country telling his uplifting story of spice and puffed cornmeal.

And Frito-Lay just kinda... let him.

I think they liked his story more than the one where a bunch of food nerds created spicy Cheetos in a lab in the Midwest. He was giving them free marketing. He gave their Flamin' products street cred in Latin communities.

But when journalists finally got around to fact checking his story, Frito-Lay very casually told them "None of our records show that Richard Montañez was involved in any capacity in the Flamin’ Hot."

It seems their line was they would let him lie without consequence, but they weren't going to lie for him.

I have no idea what to think about this. I watched an entire movie about fucking Cheetos thinking it was a true story.

Part of me appreciates the hustle. He seems like an okay person. Stayed faithful to his wife for decades, speaks of her with love, and took good care of his kids. He inspires his community and is involved in philanthropy. And he made bank by tricking a bunch of white folks into hiring the Flamin' Hot dude to give speeches to motivate their employees.

Seems like a harmless enough grift. I don't know.

[the-greatest-magic-of-all]

For the bingo if you’d like, “Leaving doodles on their notes/books/items” for Fabriz?

(I love your writing btw, I’m always excited when I see you’d posted something new)

Aww, thank you so much!! I'm honoured that my writing can make you that excited. I really hope you enjoy this one!

Send me a prompt and help me get a bingo!

Words: 2,742

Throughout his freshman and sophomore years at the Aguefort Adventuring Academy, Riz had a mini mystery running the back of his mind. The stakes, though, were not Penny Luckstone’s life or the end of the world, but his sanity because…. someone kept doodling on his shit!

Ink stars and constellations littered the corners of his study notes. Tiny jellyfish and sea turtles swam across the backs of his flashcards. The margins of the cheap mass-market mysteries he liked to read were filled with wonky daggers, bottles of poison and other murder weapons. And his clues! Not even his clues were safe! Sometimes he’d look away for a minute or two and return to find that they were framed by long lines, some straight, some wavy, that ended in sparkles or hearts. Like he was going to post them on Studygram or something! They would wreck any street cred he could conceivably scrounge up as a teenage private eye!

Well… he doesn’t hate them. Not entirely… Okay, not at all! They’re cute! They fill him with a whimsy that he usually never allows himself to have in his day-to-day life.

But it still drove him batty that he didn’t know who was making them! Over the course of both school years, he’d narrowed the possible suspects down to one of the Bad Kids. It had to be.

At first, he was worried that the list of suspects would include any of the classmates he sat beside. Both in class and during study sessions in the library or study hall. But when the doodles appeared on some of his Nightmare King notes over the summer on a day he’d spent only with the Bad Kids, he was relieved. It’d be a lot easier to find his bandit.

Adaine, he struck off the list first. He’d seen what her spellbook looked like, perfect elvish handwriting and everything placed just so. No doodles to be seen anywhere in the pages of her notes either. And now, looking back, he’d spent more than a handful of evenings studying with her and never had he found a doodle on his things afterward.

Kristen was out too. Though he had seen her doodle on her clerical homework or her arms many times before, he didn’t believe that she had the level of stealth or sleight of hand to elude him for this long. Plus, none of her go-to sun and moon doodles matched any of the ones he’d seen before.

Which left him with either Fig, Fabian, or Gorgug as his culprit. For the longest time, these three had stumped him. Not to mention by that point Spring Break had arrived and they had bigger fish to fry. Unlike Adaine, he hardly studied with either of this trio, so he had no way of knowing whether or not they consistently doodled on their own shit. And unlike Kristen, he considered all of them dexterous enough to evade his passive perception if he was distracted enough.

Thankfully, Fig helped this case immensely one afternoon at the end of sophomore year. It was when they were supposed to be studying for their finals in the Aguefort library. With her feet kicked up on the table, she abruptly looked up from the bardic history book she was maybe reading. Eyes filled with mischief. Leaning over, she plucked his pencil out of his hands and immediately drew a dick in the middle of his notes. For what reason, he had no idea. He'd been too in shock to stop her. Smiling a wide satisfied smile, Fig gave him and nod before going back to her book without a single word.

After a beat, staring at her with wide eyes and furrowed brows, he mentally crossed Fig off of the suspect list.

Leaving only Fabian and Gorgug as his doodle bandit. He had to admit, at this point, he was willing to flip a coin and just decide who it was that way. Because may the Gods damn it all, he should’ve put these two at the top of his suspect list and disregarded the other three.

Fabian had some artistic talent since he was the one who handmade his business cards, on two separate occasions. And he’d once seen the stack of sketchbooks Gorgug had tucked a bit underneath his bed.

Yes, of course, he could always just ask both of the boys whether or not they were his doodle bandit. And if he did so, he’d more than likely get his answer but… what if they stopped once he confronted them? For the first time in his life, Riz was hesitant to close the case on a mystery. He found himself vacillating on asking after the doodles whenever he was alone with one of them—no, that’s a lie. He only felt a worry stir within him when he thought about asking Fabian, he still didn’t know why, though.

Like right now!

At any point, from the moment Fabian barged into his office with lunch for the two of them to now, as the harsh afternoon sun tried its best to cook them alive, he could’ve asked. Just mentioned that he’d been finding doodles every which where and asked if they’d been drawn by Fabian’s hand. Easy peasy! Fabian would either answer yes or no! And then he’d finally know!

But. Riz. Didn’t. Do. That.

He kept quiet. Stuffing his mouth with the artisan BLT Fabian always insisted on getting him to stop any questions from falling out. And when that was all gone, he filled his mouth with explanations of everything he’d found out so far on the entity that shouldn’t be spoken of. That seemed to do the trick. Instead of a head full of doodles, he’d reoriented his brain toward solving a more important case. Yes, much better.

Hours went by like that. Both of them fanned themselves with scraps of paper as they tried to unravel the mystery of the N*ght Y*rb. Well, Riz was trying to unravel the mystery. Darting from his desk to his freshly emptied corkboard to pin up clue after clue. Fabian, on the other hand, lounged across his couch like a fainting aristocrat. Only chiming in with complaints about the heat every five minutes.

To which Riz would reply that he was free to go back to his arcano-conditioned home not twenty minutes away. The most recent time, as he copied a quote from a library book on Realmspace, he added under his breath, “Not like you’re making yourself useful.”

Fabian gasped as he shot upright, a well-manicured hand clutching his invisible pearls. “The Ball. How very dare you!”

“What?” Riz whined with a grin at his best friend’s ridiculousness. “You’re not!”

“I can be very useful.”

“I never said you couldn’t!”

“Hurtful,” Fabian shot back. Jabbing a finger at Riz as he raised his chin and pouted. “That’s what your words are.”

“Fuuuck, come on!” Riz said, trying to keep at least some irritation in his voice. It was hard though. Fondness kept sneaking in and filling his voice with mirth as Fabian crossed his arms in a huff. Somehow pouting even harder. “Okay, alright, I’m sorry. You can be very useful, Fabian.”

Fabian’s pout turned into a small, smug smile. “Apology accepted.”

“Good.” Riz sat back in his chair and let himself take in all of his work finding any clues he could on the N*ght Y*rb. It should be enough to start a proper clue board for it all. “Now get over here and be as useful as you say you are. Help me pin up some of these clues.”

“Ugh,” Fabian groaned as he threw himself back onto the couch. Draiping a dramatic hand over his eye and sighing before he caught Riz’s eye said, “Fine.”

Lifting himself from the couch with a small hop, Fabian strode over to Riz’s desk filled with books and clues. He looked over it all with a befuddled expression. Hands on his hips, his eye scanned the organized chaos (at least to Riz it was) and Riz watched them as they started to glaze over. Taking pity on him, but not without a chuckle, Riz gestured for Fabian to swap places with him at the desk.

“The clues should be somewhat colour-coordinated with highlighters. So group together to blues with the blues and the yellows with the yellows and the—”

“I’m not thick, The Ball. I understand colour-coordination.” Fabian said with a playful scowl.

“Just saying. Sheesh, touchy,” Riz murmured as he slipped out of his desk chair to let Fabian sit. Of which Fabian noogied him for the audacity, but sat down all the same. Readjusting his rumpled hair and tie with a smirk, Riz went on and said, “I’ll be on pin duty. Got it?” Raising a hand toward Fabian in a request for a high five. And even though he rolled his eye, he accepted his request. Completing the high five, trying to hide a smile as Riz yelled out like they finished a team huddle, “Break!”

Working like a well-greased machine, his clue board for the Case of the Terrible N*ght Y*rb began to take shape. With Fabian taking on the more menial task of organizing all of his cluttered thoughts and clues, it left Riz able to focus purely on stringing them all together into something more... coherent. Don’t get him wrong, it was still a chaotic mess of scribbled notes and red string, but it was a vast improvement.

Whenever asked, Fabian would hand him a notecard or just a torn-off notebook page for him to pin and then link to another. A stray quote on an old newspaper clipping. Half of an omen from ages long past hastily written with a dying pen. Most of a text conversation he had with Adaine that he printed out and annotated.

It had all been going so well until he got lost in thought. Staring off through the window at the sun setting under the horizon. Trying to connect to disparate thoughts because of an itching in the back of his mind that they in fact could be connected at all. After five minutes of silent contemplation, Riz decided to put it on the back burner for now. For the sake of getting the last couple of clues on the board.

Still staring out of the window, Riz extended an open hand toward Fabian and asked, “Could you hand me a blank notecard and pencil. I’m on to something but I don’t know what yet.”

“As you wish, detective,” Fabian answered in his usual posh drawl and placed the card and the pencil in his grasp.

Without fully looking, Riz scribbled down those disparate yet somehow connected thoughts and went to pin them up on a corner of the board. It was only then, as he sunk a push pin into the top of the card that he noticed something off about it.

In the bottom corner of the notecard was the profile of his face drawn in graphite surrounded by familiar-looking stars. His long ears, dark curly hair, a pensive expression and even his bad habit of biting the tips of his claw. All of it was shown in a tiny little doodle on this card. But that would mean—Riz gasped. His heart skipped a beat.

Every hesitation and anxiety he had about solving this little, frivolous mystery left him in the blink of an eye.

“You’re the doodle bandit?” Riz exclaimed and whipped around to shove the notecard in Fabian’s confused face.

Well-kept brows shooting up, Fabian looked down at Riz as if he’d grown a second head. “I’m the what?”

“You’re the one that’s been doodling on all of my shit since freshman year!” Riz said as he couldn’t contain all of the bursting, soaring, warm feelings that were exploding within his small frame and began to climb Fabian. He bound up and onto Fabian’s lap to point out the doodle of himself on the card to him. His slim tail kept him balanced as he perched on Fabian’s thighs while it also wagged excitably behind him.

Fabian reared back, one of his hands covering the lower half of his face. “No, I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have!”

“I have done no such thing!”

“What’s this then?”

“Okay, so I’ve done it once.” Taking Riz’s wrist in hand, Fabian yanked the notecard down and out of his face. Getting all up in Riz’s face, foreheads touching, Fabian (presumably) tried to intimidate him into ignoring this revelation. “Once does not a pattern make, The Ball.”

But Riz Gukgak was not so easily intimidated.

“No, it doesn’t.” He said, feigning defeat. Just long enough for Fabian to have started loosening his hold on his wrist to slip out and fall back to the ground. And perhaps very ‘Ball’-like, once his feet hit the floor, he didn’t stop moving. Instead, he darted for a filing cabinet next to his desk. Yanking the lowest drawer open, he pulled out yet another clue board and presented it to Fabian with righteous vigour. “But I think all of these should do it. Ha!”

Fabian’s eye widened and his mouth fell open just a bit as he beheld the sight in front of him.

Every single doodle Riz had ever found on any of his things was pinned to the surface of this 18x24-inch board. Either ripped out of notebooks or meticulously photocopied, it didn’t matter, not an inch of the board wasn’t concealed by one of Fabian’s idle creations.

A night sky worth of stars and constellations covered the top half of the board while dozens of adorable sea creatures inhabited the lower half. The middle was more of a free-for-all. Intricately designed blades. Sprawling vines. Skulls and bones (duh!). Sparkles and hearts. Anything and everything. And now—Riz took the newest notecard, the one with his face on it and pinned it to the center of the board—him.

Looking at it all, Riz felt a little dizzy at how jubilant he felt knowing that Fabian made all of it.

This is why when Fabian piped up and said, “Oh. Well then. I apologize.”, Riz almost gave himself whiplash with how fast his head spun toward him.

Apologize?

“Huh?” Riz asked, his face scrunched up in confusion. Too caught up spiralling in his own pleasant feelings to have realized that Fabian might’ve been spiralling in a different direction.

“Obviously it’s been bothering you for a while now,” Fabian said with a gulp. Grimacing as he gestured toward the doodle-filled board. “I’ll, umm, try not to, uh, ‘doodle on your shit’ anymore.”

“No!” Before he could think not to, Riz flickered forward to grasp his gesturing hand. His small green claws wrapped around Fabian’s warm ones, far larger than his own, and squeezed them. Heart racing, in fear or for another reason, Riz had no time to decide as he tried to prevent his one worry about this case from coming true. Stumbling over his words because of how quickly they were trying to leave his lips, Riz said, “I-I don’t, I don’t mind.”

A cautious look of hope bloomed on Fabian’s handsome features. “But you made a clue board about it.”

“I know but I really don’t mind them. In fact, they,” He looked down at Fabian’s doodles again and smiled. Looking back up at Fabian with a tender expression. His pupils were undoubtedly as dilated as could be. “They make me happy.”

Cautious hope melted into fondness on Fabian’s face he smiled shyly and squeezed Riz’s hand. “Well, then. I’m… very happy to hear that.”

The two of them spent a couple more moments staying just like that. The setting sun bathing Riz’s office in hues of golden orange and red, before finishing up their work. From then on, with the Case of the Elusive Doodle Bandit solved, Riz kept that board filled with Fabian’s doodles out where he could see them. For those long nights spent researching or studying when he needed a morale boost.

Sometimes he’d even come back from school or from working a local case and find a new doodle. Of a bird or waves or himself from an angle he didn’t realize he was being drawn from pinned to the board. 

The doodle bandit striking again when he least expected it.

Two down! Three more for a Bingo! Thank you for sending me this ask, Erin! Again, I hope you enjoyed it!!

Send me a prompt and help me get a bingo!

#fabian seacaster #riz gukgak #fabriz #fanfic #fantasy high #fic bingo #prompt bingo

[mercyisms]

Niche Nona Liveblogging: Day Five - Ch. 26

All right, baby. It’s time. It’s time to unhinge the whole mind. Rip those hinges right off. Let the brain flap in the wind. Et ceterea. Spoilers until the very end of Nona the Ninth. Previous and future liveblogs are here. Apologies for unedited typos and mis-transcriptions are right here, at your feet, take them. Some comments will be in vaguely chronological liveblogged spurts, but I think I’ll group certain other observations together under their coalescencing themes and my baby thoughts about them. Just kidding, this felt too long already, so we’ll put thematic observations in the next and final post?? This liveblog now goes until Chapter 26 or page 375 in the hardcover. Also. I’ve stopped climbing the walls. I’m on the ceiling now. I’m never coming down. 

“as though others were more deserving than Nona, the most deserving person on the planet” and she’s right! “But I don’t want to be redheaded. I do not think of myself as redheaded.” “She was probably quite a bit older than Pyrrha, with strongly marked features and an aristocratic, slightly hooked nose, and her face was marked with lines that showed even beneath a light layer of powder and make-up” + “She was starting to perk up, by We Suffer standards, which meant her eyes had narrowed a bit.” Sorry to be me, but We Suffer confirmed h*t. I knew it. I knew it. Hooked nose! I knew it. “meeting up with the Messenger, whom you call the Angel… we may actually survive it” fascinated by this but also as the Angel becomes a confirmed Blood of Eden / Merv wing agent, I am once again tapping the NGE mech asking if it’s ready to go… “The Angel is Blood of Eden.” (294) “Corona can’t lie to her.” (296) cf. Crown/Corona’s belief, as disclosed to Nona anyway, that she can. It is very clear which Tridentarii Camilla, anyway, thinks is ascendant. We’re also noting that “Violabeth” is such a name. (Also matriarchal lineage on the Third or…?) You know, I twigged, of course I twigged at the “very obviously dead person with fashion hair” – but I really did not piece together, until the reveal, that Ianthe was puppeting Babs’ dead body and self-styling him as a vessel for princedom. In-cred-i-ble. Everything happening here is off the charts and I would expect nothing less from the Tridentarii, evil kings and princes and girls that I love. Also unhinged and again I am obsessed that Nona mistakes Ianthe-in-Babs for Crown/Corona’s boyfriend and Palamedes is like “yeah, well. Honest mistake.” “You think we’re fighting you on Antioch.” Not our first mention of Antioch, but the first that there’s a different threat. I’m putting my chin in my hands, I’m twirling my hair, I’m asking Ianthe to tell me pretty please. “Get the fishhook out of the fish.” At which point I went, ah yes, code word, and immediately had to flip back.

“[Blood of Eden owns] things in common, we share responsibilities and resources in common. [Wake] could’ve moved those resources at will.” Good tie-in to As Yet Unsent and Judith being mystified over their slightly more lateral chain of command. “It even scared A--. He was all, Matter doesn’t play by these rules! You’re doing bone parthenogenesis! I told him his mum did bone parthenogenesis. A—told me he’d kill me one day.”  No commentary. “M—‘s nun of all people was convinced that [the soul] was the element I was missing, and that finding it… would bring us closer to God.” Sweeps Cristabel Oct crumbs into my hand and kisses them all goodnight. I cannot believe I was hoodwinked into being obsessed with a nun. “He never knew how to pick between me and P—” G1deooooon. Gideon, Gideon, Gideon. I’m gratified for each any every bit of characterization, which I think goes a long way in giving G1deon a slight degree more of agency post-HTN. “Absorption through the eyes is worse than the brain.” Cf. Augustine’s something to the effect of “That dolt. [Mercymorn] knows not to look at [RB7] directly.” Neither of which confirms whether Mercymorn actually looked at it or just knew to fake she looked at it. I’m sure she did just look at it. Even HTN is not that complex, but I remain stuck on that scene, huh? “Do you know, I miss Harrow terribly.” Nerds (bullying emoji). Nerds who are friends (teary emoji). “I have very often not had to shoot myself.” Once again, We Suffer is hot. ALSO, for that matter, so is Pash and her blue hair. Icon. Angry legend. We love them all. “Crack the sky, Troia cell.” Back in the days of 8tracks, I had a mildly successful Lin Beifong themed fanmix called break the sky, which was named after the Hush Sound song of the same name. These are just some of the fun, personal facts about me you get from sticking around. (All cops? Terrible. But I’m making allowances both Nepotism Chief Beifong and Necrotism Chief Pyrrha Dve. Unfortunately.) “[Crown] had her big beautiful hair down around her shoulders in a profusion of smoothed, rippling curls, and she was wearing a lovely pale yellow slip that left her golden shoulders and throat bare. The dress was slit all the up to the thigh and she wore soft black leather trousers beneath it…” Slit-skirt over trousers, Coronabeth is single-handedly bring back to 00’s. But also we can note the gender and Corona skewing more traditionally feminine again, now in the presence of Ianthe. Throughout, Ianthe makes several comments about Coronabeth’s hair, a fixation that seems in-line with Ianthe’s force-growing of Harrow’s hair / attempts to cast Harrow as more traditionally feminine than Harrow seems personally inclined. Now is, maybe, a good moment to also reflect on Harrow’s gender presentation versus Nona’s. Again, the hair. The hair. And Nona’s attachment to her long hair. (Which… given what John tells us later… but we’ll get to that!!!) “Teacher assumes [the Sixth] melted as result of a little domestic drama, which sets him off wallowing again.” Getting over a polycule murder-break-up is hard. “This is the last thing he needs. If he hears that yet another of his duplicitous sluts betrayed him.” I am kissing each of the duplicitous sluts on the head. I love them. I love them all. I love the broken polycule. “Cassiopeia the First left us instructions years ago… We left for a Lyctor.” At which point we were, as they say, hooting and hollering. I think it was a well-documented theory that Mercymorn’s account of Cassiopeia’s death did not feel complete and left room for doubt but yes, give me another hyper-competent mean lady. Give me the lawyer-librarian. I am rubbing my little hands together. I am desperate to learn her Homestuck typing quirk. What will be her punctuation of choice, I beg of you. Also Tamsyn, you cannot tell me the guy named Ulysses (WHERE did his soul come from?? Who IS he???) is not also returning. So like. Yum. Delicious. I want to collect two new duplicitous sluts in Alecto, pretty please. “But we’re closer to the goal than ever before.” When Ianthe DOES reveal her endgame, I am going to be absolutely wild. “Every single dead soldier’s fingers twitched.” Someone call Santa Claus from Chainsaw Man bc Ianthe’s about to crush them to the ground in a PVP puppeteering fight. “Oh, darling, you’re always everyone else’s girl.” !!!!! “It was like the scream was made of her insides” Again, filing the scream away for future purposes (338). I would very much like Nona to get into heavy metal. I think that would be nice. “and maybe [Judith’s father will] stop moaning about supply lines” again, simply attentive to who is doing what portions of the day to day management of the war efforts and general empire-running. “You challenged the Sixth for its keys” – At which point I screamed for the callback. Also, God. It was only “over a year ago”? Death comes at you fast. “… between Naberius and me, there are no more weaknesses. I took those away… and now he is perfect.” (342) Frankly, did not expect this book to be a big win for the Babsheads, but I’m really happy for them. Ianthe’s ideas of perfection and perfect lyctorhood are emergent here and relevant in contrast to Palamedes’, but we’ll touch on that later. “As poor old Augustine used to say, It’s impossible, and what’s more, it’s improbable.” (342) At which point my mind began to gurgle, but God we note the poor old Augustine mirrors Augustine’s own constant refrain of poor little Cyth. There’s an intriguing way in which Ianthe is mimicking Augustine here and through actually taking up smoking later (I wonder if we can do a certain gender thing here). But I admit my first thought was really wow, Saint of Patience completely bodied. She truly felt nothing for him, she thought he was small and old, and I cannot believe Augustine thought Ianthe would side with him over God. I know I tweet this like five times a year but truly every time I remember Augustine is canonically blonde, it really does feel like an injustice to me personally. ALSO that he’s like, what, canonically 40ish and not played by Jeremy Irons?? Ridiculous. CW // Suicide mention in the next section // “’I wouldn’t get hurt. I’d just die,’ said Crown, her bronzed throat working against the barrel. ‘You’re not all-powerful here. All you have are wards and puppets. I shoot, the bullet goes through my palate and into the brain, and then you’re the Crown Princess of Ida… like you never wanted.” (343) A fascinating threat of sovereignty and !!! “’I’m going to shoot myself and you’re going to watch,’ said Crown, with deep satisfaction. ‘Like when we were teens, but this time I’m really going to tie the rope… really going to drink the poison…’” Corona’s history of suicidal thoughts adds a riveting new dimension to her expectation/desire that Ianthe would eat her (“My heart’s own… my necromancer” !!). Mmmm Tridentarii and their psychodramas. I’m leaning forward in my side. // End CW “You’ve been training with someone who knew what they were doing.” Augustine or Gideon? Both? I cannot believe Palamedes had to pilot Naberius’ body and I would pay money for that Freaky Friday AU. “Personally? She’s the last thing I have left of a woman I tried to trick into loving me, and got played myself.” I cannot believe this is the off-screen romance. God. God! I am eating the ceiling tiles. Pyrrha/Wake Spy Vs Spy asshole edition. Pyrrha/Wake idk Mr. and Mrs. Smith only I think maybe in reverse? I haven’t seen that movie since I was a child. (ft. “Let’s not get too cute about it, though. My best friend and I punched her out an airlock. Apart from that, I was ready to commit.”)   Also the incredibly me note that “Well, you’ll probably start visiting clubs and trying to hit on the dancers, and going from relationship to relationship not really being able to commit” (357) that this in did make my soul long for a single, single Augustine/Pyrrha interaction. God. What that must have been. “Talk about being the mother’s daughter… She’s him in the eyes and brows… amazed Mercymorn didn’t see it. But she wasn’t looking for it, I guess.” (361) Mercy, you beautiful fool. Also very crucial Gideon food, truly.

We’re filing away all comments on Gideon, and Gideon’s body, and where we find her for the end but god “a big purple bloodless puncture wound, with white teeth peeking out coyly from within” (366). Explain the teeth! Please explain the teeth! Why does necromancy lead to teeth!!!! What is up with the stoma!!! “I’ve never much seen the allure of an evil cougar.” (368) Your loss, Sextus. Cytherea ): Gone but never forgotten ): ): ):

“Judith Deuteros for some reason” is a great laugh line. “Those are my speed holes. They help me go fast,” is an abomination.

Gideon. Last stretch will be here soon. I am still on the ceiling.

#nona the ninth #ntnspoilers #nona spoilers #nona the ninth spoilers #the locked tomb #m: nona liveblogging

[mitchika]

New Coaster Creds [PT2]

I was going to put them on the same post but that would have gotten long, since Thorpe has significantly more coasters than Chessington.

Thorpe Park: - Swarm, favourite coaster at Thorpe - i love the new audio that blends the whole song into the area music, its a smooth ride too. Shame theres only one way in and one way out of the island though... - Walking Dead, yawn... Boring IP, boring queue line, boring ride story, coaster was a fun little ride in the dark but everything else about this ride is so boring. if it needs live actors to become 'fun' then you've messed up a fundamental part of designing an attraction. - Colossas, the 2nd longest queue we waited in but at least this was a ride... its the ride that made me nauseous for the rest of the day and that wasnt because of the 10 inversions - it's just so rough and janky... aztec theming is alright, maybe it'll get some love when Exodus is built. - Inferno, doesnt deserve to be called Nemesis - whats the connection? theres no lore here, just a volcano. I didnt think much of the layout, it does a loop and two twists before its done. i did like the meandering bit through the fog though. - SAW, was ROUGH - probably not a suprise to most people. very tight layout with some indoor secrets but i've already been on The Smiler so i came prepared. The eurofighter staple of doing over 90* after the lift didnt really add much after riding everything else that day. - Stealth, didnt ride... dont like launch coasters and its only party trick is going vertical really quick. Amity is nicely themed though. - Fishing Fish, "It's dead Jim".

#rambles #Thorpe Park #rollercoaster #text post

[radioactive-earthshine]

You have infected me. Timbo for the prompt with either "wait, you think I'm cute?" Or "I don't think I've ever seen you smile" please. It's all I've been able to think about for a good few days.

I decided to do both, thank you for the fun prompts!

. . .

“New Genesian tech fixes i’self, Bird Boy.” Tim rolled out from under the Super-Cycle. Wrapped around his forehead was a bright headlamp; he turned it off so he didn’t blind his guest, the voice alone was unmistakable. 

“Not trying to fix her, she’s making this… noise. I think something is stuck in her,” Tim explained and he swiftly got back to his feet. 

Slo-Bo grinned. “That’s wut she said.” 

“In this case, I think that’s exactly what she said,” Tim said, a bit smug that he derailed Slo-Bo’s attempt to be irritating and juvenile. Tim hopped up in the driver’s seat and Slo-Bo swaggered over and put a pale hand on the Super-Cycle’s front, where the hood would have been on a normal car. 

“Ya not feelin’ well, huh?” Slo-Bo asked her and Super-Cycle made the unfamiliar noise Tim had brought up. It was mechanical and gravelly, like a rock tumbler grinding coarse stone, but laced throughout there was a low whine that sounded organic. He narrowed his eyebrows at it as his face pulled down in empathy. “Never heard that before, Bird Boy, hand me the light.” Tim held it out for him and Slo-Bo quickly strapped it around his head and got on the mechanic board, pushing himself under. “Now, what the frag’s makin’ ya feel like shit, where’s the bastich?” 

“I looked everywhere under there, I couldn’t see anything,” Tim sat there as he watched Slo-Bo, occasionally he would shift under there, swearing in languages he knew came from the other side of the galaxy, and yet even frustrated there was a lazy drawl to it. 

“Yeah well, ya don’t know New Genesian tech, humans are ‘bout 5000 year behind em.” There was a sudden thunk and a pop and the Super-Cycle suddenly lurched three inches forward. Tim gripped the handlebars and pulled back on them like reins in a panic. “Woah girl! Stop!” 

“Calm down Bird Boy! I jus’ startled her! But I found it! There ya are ya little fragger!” There was silence and a soft click, then Slo-Bo wheeled out holding up the assailant in his left hand; a wound up string of fishing line. 

“That’s it? That’s all it was?” The Super-Cycle rocked back and forth, as if testing if the discomfort was gone, and then a low thrumming purr emitted from her. “We must have picked that up when we went to the lake. Thanks ‘Bo. How did you know where to look?” 

Slo-Bo took the headlamp off and put it down on the workbench, then discarded the fishing line in the trash with a scowl. He looked at Tim with his bright yellow eyes and explained lazily. “Lobo’s memories,” he tapped his temple. “Fer a time he smuggled New Genesian tech, outfitted it, altered it, sold it to the right bastich fer the right creds. When ya live t’be as old as he is, ya learn quick bein’ a little nerdy can save yer life and be pretty profitable. I wuzzn’t jus’ pushin’ buttons fixin’ yer ship on fraggin’ Apokolips, ya know.” 

Tim couldn’t decide if Slo-Bo’s accent was Southern, New Jerseyian, Brooklyn or some weird Cajun hybrid of all of them. “Well, thank you. I’m sure she appreciated it too.” Super-Cycle trilled and Tim smiled at her. 

“I don’t ever think I’ve seen ya smile, Bird Boy,” Slo-Bo suddenly announced as he leaned back against the workbench, he was grinning, large canines visible set below deep purple gums. 

“Huh?” 

“Smilin’, don’t think I ever saw ya doin’ it.” 

Tim scrunched his eyebrows together. “I smile all the time! Don’t I?” 

Slo-Bo shook his head and huffed a low giggle. “Nope. First time fer me.” 

“No way, I smiled in front of Lobo. I remember he told a joke that was actually ironically funny and not crude or gross!” Tim refuted, he refused to be known as the funless one without humor or joy. That was Batman. He was NOT Batman.

“That doesn’t count, yer dealin’ with me now. Not him. This is the first time ya smiled in front of me,” he said and pointed his thumb at his chest for emphasis.

Try as he might, Tim could not debunk Slo-Bo’s claim. Losing Lobo and gaining his clone Slo-Bo was an adjustment for everyone. Tim liked Slo-Bo and thought he was far better company than his progenitor. At least he didn’t have to constantly be looking over his shoulder with him. 

“Wow. You’re right. I guess have been lacking in the smiles lately. Lots on my mind.” Tim dismounted the Super-Cycle and she drove off to the other side of the workshop, she had a “spot” she favored over everywhere else. 

“Like wut?” Slo-Bo asked lazily and Tim debated with himself on how much to reveal to him. With Lobo he kept conversations at a minimum, but friendly. Slo-Bo was an entirely different person. 

Tim quickly made a decision. “School stuff, dad stuff.” It wasn’t a lie. 

Slo-Bo’s lips curled upwards into a sly smile. “Girl stuff n’ boy stuff n’ other stuff?” 

Tim smiled again. “Yeah, something like that.” 

“Sounds like normal teen stuff t’me. Already went through it once, guess I’m havin’ go number two.” 

“I don’t even want to know what Lobo was like the first time,” Tim said and he leaned back against the same workbench next to Slo-Bo. 

“Not much diff’rent from wut ya saw here, only on Czarnia he brought upon a genocide. He wuz the weird one. One in a trillion.” 

“Oh.” Tim always thought that was a grave exaggeration, Bruce even had the claim on Lobo’s file as ‘claim not confirmed, suspected exaggeration.’ 

“Don’t go worryin’ yer head Bird Boy. I happen to like Earth. And yer good company. Ya don’t yap incessantly and ya got balls. I can respect that,” he said easily. “I like yer energy, Bird Boy. Imp’s like one of those Japanese cartoons; too high energy. Superboy is just a lost dweeb that thinks he’s cool. Wondy is wound up tighter than that fishin’ line. Secret still needs to figure ‘erself out and I dunno what t’do with Ray. Ya got yer own big time issues, like a mix of all of em, but yer alright.” 

Tim didn’t know what to do with that but his cheeks were hot. “Thanks, I guess,” Tim responded as he considered Slo-Bo’s observations. “You’re good company too. And you’re not him either.” Slo-Bo flashed him another grin. “I’m cuter too.”

Tim nodded absently. “Yeah, and I can actually talk to you.” 

“Wait, ya think I’m cute?” Slo-Bo actually looked surprised, but the expression was brief as it fell back into a smug teasing grin. “Ya think I’m cute!”

Tim looked horrified and his cheeks flushed, even his forehead burned. “I-I do not!” 

“Ya do!” Slo-Bo was unrelenting. 

“I do not. That was me misspeaking. I take back everything I said!” Tim pushed himself off the workbench and went to leave the workshop, face red. Maybe there was a good healthy drop of Lobo that still beat in Slo-Bo’s heart. Tim hoped it was the best parts of him. Stopping at the doorway he turned back to Slo-Bo. “Thank you for helping with Super-Cycle. I mean it. I’ll talk to you later.” Then he was gone.

Slo-Bo chuckled as he watched him leave, glad that he managed to see him smile at least once before his vision got too blurry and  he missed his chance forever. 

It was a good day. 

#tim drake #slo-bo #slobo #timbo #mine #dc comics #young justice 1998 #yj98 #thank you #this was such fun to write #driver's seat

[squirrelwrangler]

XIV update- EW itself has been very causal and not doing any intensive grinds for anything but Fishing - this really has been the expac to embrace hardcore FSH. Which, as the only achievements and goals I haven’t reached involve Ocean Fishing, I log onto do my fish raid every two hours if it’s the right window to attempt a Legendary Blue that I’m missing. Got my Big Fish and World Class Troller rewards so I enter every dungeon flashing my fish cred. Have a month to wait until the .45 patch to drop to get more side story lore with Hindu and Rokkon - even if the Criterion difficulty is too much for my causal self, I love the lore exploration of the variant dungeon. A month will also get me the final tomestone bard bow, so unless the final relic version is prettier that weapon will be my main bow for the rest of EW and for at least the first half of the next expansion. Which means glam planning. Fan fest and the reveal for 7.0 is on July, so waiting to see where we go next. That and the graphics update. But mostly it’s a holding pattern waiting til 6.5 for the final Myths Raid to wrap up the deity storyline (hopefully some decent glam sets), we wrap up this IV homage Void quest line and get pointed at where we are traveling in 7.0, and the last two batches of Big Fish drop and mock me for completing the previous legendaries and catching 6.4’s in less than a week. Something is going to be worse than the Legendaris from ShB and I’m low key terrified.

If I was good I’d progress my two alts.

[carli-meows]

i wrote this while i was extremely high

firstly truthly gonna set the record straight

im like a brand new record fresh out the gate

spinnin phat and phresh and rhymin and snappin

always fun, funny, wise and never crackin

i got the mad max mac n cheese were talkin cheddar

facts fad fact checkin it and not cuttin feta

no matter what i say it grey gray and black and white

my monochromatic poem for the lovelies that i like

i have a tendency to be when the to be is not to me

i hate jazz im not a bee an existing human being

and if i am a phat cat with a set of claws set to attack

then don't act loona you gave tuna to a salmon type of cat

my rhyme scheme is lyrical a b c d d lyrical

fuck around like a ball becuase your nugget is spherical

nobody can test me because i flunked the class

your momma so dirty she got fish floppin on her ass

doctor and doctors whats going on in my head

my hard drive cat drive is my only street cred

first lines for me, wait whosr lines contender

get a funkified beat and a rhyme in a blender

#rhymes #ramblings

[mentalpolaroids]

hi i really love your writing! you’re an amazing writer!!!! i was wonder if you could do a blurb with the line “i’ll be so safe. so safe” where the pogues and reader are all hanging out and they start making fun of john b for being so cheesy all the time.

So Safe

[gif creds @ravenclairee]

Blurb request | 26. I would be safe for you. So safe

Pogues x female!Reader (and a tiny tiny bit of JJ x reader, hope you don't mind)

Warnings: swearing, smoking

I actually had a lot of fun writing this one!

Thank you so much for the love and for requesting, hope you like it ❤

"Ew, John B, get that fish away from me." Kiara complained, making a disgusted face and scooting away from where the boy swung the hooked fish.

"Relax, Kie, it's not gonna kill you." he fought back.

"Well, I will kill you if you don't put that thing back in the water."

"Ah, another lovely and peaceful day with our friends." (Y/N) exclaimed sarcastically, laying her head back on JJ's shoulder after taking a glance at what Kiara and John B's banter was about.

Pope laughed in agreement and looked at Kiara, wondering if he should do or say something to try and put her in a better mood.

Is not that John B had planned a whole fishing trip, he just got bored and decided to grab the fishing rod forgotten on the boat and see what he could catch, just for fun. But Kiara wasn't having it, while JJ, Pope and (Y/N) pretty much ignored their friend's weird and sometimes somewhat questionable actions. JJ was sharing his blunt with (Y/N) as they both leaned against the side of the boat, eyes closed, allowing the sun, the soft rocking of the boat and the weed to let them enjoy some much deserved relaxation after a busy day of working around the island. Pope had his face buried in a book and would sometimes share his point on the conversation between his friends.

“Hey, let’s make a bet.” JJ said, out of nowhere after a few minutes of silence between the five friends.

“Oh no. Last time that happened I saw John B’s ass. I was never the same after that.” (Y/N) complained.

“Hey, it’s a nice ass.”

“I still have nightmares, JB. Not dreams, nightmares.”

“Yeah, once I had sleep paralysis and I saw John B’s ass too.”

“JJ, since when do you have sleep paralysis?” Pope asked, his attention now fully on the blonde Pogue.

“I don’t know, man, but it happened.” Then he pointed to John B, “And it’s definitely not a nice ass, dude.”

“So, what are we betting?” John B finally changed the topic of the conversation.

“I bet you $20 you can’t catch three fishes in under ten minutes.”

“Only $20?” John B chuckled.

“Tips were wack today, bro.”

“And you’re still gonna waste it on a stupid bet?” (Y/N) asked, turning her head to stare at JJ sternly, not happy that we would risk the little money he had on a bet, even if the chances of him losing were low.

“Oh, come on (Y/N), I’m not gonna waste it. He won’t win.”

“I’ll do it. And I’ll win.” John B stood back up, grabbed his fishing rod and stood on the edge of the boat, ready to swing the hook into the water.

“This is stupid and irresponsible. On so many levels.”

“Pope’s right. And please, if you catch any, put them on the other side of the boat, away from me, thank you very much.” Kiara said, as she put her earbud back on and let herself travel to her musical world, leaving the other Pogues to witness John B fail miserably as, ten minutes later, he caught a total of zero fish.

“Guess you get to keep your wack tips after all.” Pope commented, turning his attention back to his book.

“Told ya.” JJ turned to (Y/N) and flicked her nose, making her playfully slap his hand away with a chuckle.

“Ah, fuck.”

They heard John B say from where he still stood on the edge of the boat.

“What now, dumbass?” Kiara took off her earphones and put it in her bag, apparently being done with her music and joining in on the mocking with her friends.

“The rod, it fell on the water and it’s drifting away. Shit.”

“Dude, there are sharks in this area.”

“It’ll be fine, Kie.” he answered, as he got ready to jump into the water.

“Hey, John B!” (Y/N) called him before he could jump, “Be safe.”

She used one of the inside jokes she and her friends shared, which earned a laugh from JJ and Pope while Kiara rolled her eyes, already done with the joke.

“Hilarious, (Y/N), hilarious.” the freckled Pogue answered sarcastically before diving into the water.

“That wasn’t very safe.” Pope commented jokingly, his gaze still on the spot where John B was a few seconds ago.

“Right? Rude.”

“Hey,” JJ got (Y/N)’s attention, putting on a fake serious expression and grabbing her hand, “I would be safe for you. So safe.”

(Y/N) mirrored the committed acting but soon broke into a fist of laughter, being joined by JJ and Pope. Kiara just stared at them, shaking her head but not being able to hold back a smile.

After John B got back on the boat, intact with no sight of shark bites and a rescued fishing rod, they all decided to call it a day and go to The Wreck, in hopes Mr. Carrera would be in a good mood and give them some leftover food.

After having a surprisingly nice dinner, they all parted ways, aside from JJ and John B who were both heading to the chateau. While saying their goodbyes and starting to make their ways to go home, JJ called out for (Y/N), making her turn around.

“Be safe.”

The girl laughed and the boy got a smack on the head from John B, who couldn’t help but laugh too at his idiot friends.

“You too, bubba. And I mean it.”

#outer banks #obx #jj maybank #john b #kiara carrera #pope heyward #pogues #imagine #obx imagine #request #jj x reader #jj mayback x reader

[brattyfics]

— what happens in vegas

summary:

❥ angel proposes to his long-time girlfriend during an impromptu trip to las vegas. inspiration. photo cred.

pairing: angel reyes x black!reader

tags: cheesy proposal

word count: 1.0k

“Let’s go to Vegas!” Angel had said, smirking like it was the best idea he’d ever had. Three days later, he sat in front of you- in the middle of Las Vegas, Nevada, just to be clear- with the same smirk and another proposition.

“Let’s get married.”

“What?” You coughed, setting the ice-cold cup of lemonade down.

Did I hear him right?

The two of you sat at a table on the outside portion of one of Vegas’ most popular restaurants despite the sun being scorching hot. Sweat beads covered your forehead and everywhere else except your eyeballs, but you’d be happy anywhere as long as you were with Angel. An empty bowl with remnants of milk sat on the table between you. You’d shared plain vanilla ice cream for dessert, feeding each other spoonfuls between laughs and sweet kisses.

He wore a sleeveless black shirt, toned, tattooed arms on display. You weren’t the only one that enjoyed the view; a woman several tables away kept turning around to steal glances at him. You couldn’t blame her, especially because tinted sunglasses covered his eyes, adding an air of mystery to the already handsome package.

Even after several years together, you still found him irresistible. Luckily, he felt the same. You hadn’t been able to keep your hands off of each other all weekend. You reached across the table to stroke his arm affectionately despite your confusion. You just couldn’t help it. “What are you going on about, handsome?”

“I’m saying, we’re in Vegas. Let’s do it, mama.” He smiled wide, confident, and light. You mulled over the words. You had discussed marriage, of course, but it wasn’t at the top of the list of priorities for either of you.

There was club business, your job, and now the added stress of building a house from the ground up. You were doing it on your own, together, with the help of the M.C., of course, but sometimes it all got to be a little overwhelming. In fact, you still needed to pick finishings for the kitchen, find a new bedroom set, and so, so much more.

Your face scrunched up. “Like now?”

“No, not right now.” Angel shrugged. You internally sighed with relief. “We can do it tonight when it cools down. That’ll give us time to find a venue and clothes and…whatever else you need for a Vegas wedding.”

Your heart pitter-pattered in your chest unsteadily. Why were you suddenly nervous? He was still Angel, the love of your life, future father to your children. Marriage didn’t make that any more or less real, so why were you so affected?

“You’re serious?” You double-checked. You didn’t think Angel would joke about something like this, but he liked to tease sometimes.

He frowned at the question, leaning forward to offer you his hands. You took them without hesitation, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin that calmed you down instantly.

“If you don’t want to, or if you aren’t ready, we don’t have to. But I want to marry you. Tonight. In a couple months or a year from now. Just someday.” His soft expression melted your heart. How could you say no when he was so warm and genuine?

You took in a deep breath and nodded enthusiastically. “We’ll need to get rings and stuff when we get home, but I-I’m ready. Yes! Let’s just do it.”

The expression on his face was priceless. Pure, unabated happiness all wrapped up in smile lines and big teeth.

“I’m so glad you said that.”

“Yeah?” You flirted, stroking the side of his face.

“Yeah. ’Cause if you had said no, I would’ve felt really stupid about this.” He fished a black velour box from his pocket and then stood to circle the table.

“Oh my god.” You gasped, covering your mouth. You probably shouldn’t have been surprised, being that you had already agreed to get married, but when he sank down onto one knee in front of you, it felt like something out of a romance novel. “I promise to always share my ice cream. To whisk you off to Vegas on a whim ’cause I know even though you pretend to hate it, you secretly love when I’m spontaneous. That’s why we work together so well, like peanut butter and celery.”

What?

Leave it to Angel to ignore the obvious pairing of peanut butter and jelly.

You couldn’t help but ask. “Which one of us is the celery?”

“You, obviously, but that’s not important.” He answered like it really was obvious. “Will you marry me?” The words didn’t seem real even though you watched his lips part in slow motion.

You felt giddy excitement, anxious uncertainty for what the future held, and just a tiny bit of embarrassment because all of the eyes that turned to laser focus on you. But most of all, you just felt really, really lucky to have met someone you loved, that loved you back and did so without any reservations.

“Baby-“You cried, choking on the words. Angel rested a large hand on your thigh, rubbing so you’d stop. He couldn’t take the tears; otherwise, a few of his own might escape.

“You trying to embarrass me out here? Want everyone knowing your man is a crybaby?” He joked. You cooed and grabbed the back of his neck to pull him closer. “You’re not a crybaby. You’re my sweet, handsome baby. I love you so much. Even though I already said yes like five minutes ago, of course, I’ll marry you. Here.” You wiggled your fingers at him, giggling uncontrollably.

Angel slipped the diamond ring onto your finger without any hesitation, gently kissing your knuckles afterward. Your heart swelled.

Too-loud cheers erupted around you, reminding you that the two of you weren’t alone. You covered your face with your hands, shrinking away from the unwanted attention. Angel pulled them apart to kiss your lips, and then he stood, holding his hands out. “Come on. Let’s go get married.”

notes: might write some more about this pairing later. don't forget to let me know what you think!

general taglist:

@woahitslucyylu @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @everyhowlmarksthedead @yourwonkywriter @trulysuccubus @sparklemichele @luckyharley1903 @thesandbeneathmytoes @amorestevens @relaxing-najee @tremendousdinosaurhideout

angel reyes taglist:

@claytoncardenasbabymama @adaydreamaway08

#mayans mc #angel reyes #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x black!reader

[cobaincreates]

the fuck is a touron? pt. 2

warnings: language, mention of drugs & alcohol, smut (wrap it you're smart), very brief oral (male receiving), 18+

count: 9k+

part one is here! i hope you enjoy this as much as i did writing it! also remember when i said this has been sitting for a couple months?? welp, it’s been longer than that...oops. but it's all yours now!!! :)

taglist is always open. have a lovely weekend! photo cred

— — —

3 weeks earlier

a loud blare jolted you awake.

“what the fuck?”

you scrambled to stop the noise, your heart nearly jumping out of your chest. your head knocked into something hard as you twisted and tried to assemble your brain.

a clatter of what sounded like several bottles came from your right. the sound still rang out into the room—which was where exactly?

as you got to your hands and knees and shuffled against what felt like carpet, you remembered vaguely that you’d gone out last night. the carpet and dark room didn’t tell you much else. but the trilling alarm was enough to set you into a search to find that out.

“shut that off!” a voice yelled from behind you.

your hand knocked into more bottles and you grappled for one, feeling the familiar shape of a glass beer bottle. someone groaned in front of you then a blinding light pierced across your eyes. you sucked in a breath, dropping the bottle and covering your eyes.

what, were you a vampire? you peeked past your fingers to a parted curtain letting in a sliver of sunlight. you saw a little more of where you’d been, the light trail full of bottles and some sprawled legs and arms.

the alarm cut off suddenly. soft snores and labored breaths filled the silence now, along with a pounding in your ears so intense, you would’ve thought you were still hearing the alarm. a slow, gradual ache formed in the center of your forehead.

you blinked as your eyes adjusted to the light. a sparkling stiletto caught your attention, but it wasn’t on a foot. you looked around the room and spotted its twin near the back of a couch. crawling over, you found liza laying on her back with her hair messily splayed around her.

she was yawning while her phone lit up her face in a soft glow. when your eyes met, she whispered, “hey.”

you faintly remembered her setting an alarm on her phone somewhere in between jell-o shots and body shots. or was it after the jäger bombs?

you let out an oomf as you collapsed beside her on your stomach. your head didn’t let up the pounding. you made a noise, your words muffled against the stale-smelling carpet.

“what?” liza said, not having heard any coherent words.

you turned your head, the carpet scratching your cheek. “i said, nurse me back to health, please.”

“i told you not to do those lines,” she said, shaking her head.

“what?” you said a little too loudly, earning a few shh!s in return.

“i’m kidding,” liza laughed.

you grimaced, mostly at her but also at the hair in your mouth. you reached up to remove it and sat up while liza looked at her phone.

“what time is it?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder around the room.

no one else had moved from liza’s wake-up alarm. your vision was clearer now and you took in the trashed room. bottles lay everywhere, a few staining the carpet in dark puddles. a lamp was on the floor, its shade across the room over someone’s head. it was warm considering the blackout curtains keeping the morning sun out and you couldn’t imagine sleeping in here any longer.

your head pounded again as liza said, “noon.”

“can we go? i might throw up from how hot it is in here.” you pulled at your dress, wanting nothing more than to get under some cold water.

liza sat up and looked around, dropping her phone into her lap. “i need my other shoe.”

“it’s over here,” you said and crawled to retrieve it for her.

she put it on, her dress riding up her thighs before she stood and pulled it back down. you took her offered hand so she could help you up. your heels sank into the carpet and you looked down, finding a soggy spot where beer had seeped in. you frowned and grabbed ahold of liza’s arm to find your way out.

your small crossbody clutch was resting on the couch cushion and you reached for it over a girl’s sleeping form, careful not to wake her. she made a small noise and you snatched it quickly, feeling the weight of your phone inside.

liza ordered an uber to bring you back to campus. it was fifteen minutes away and you panicked for a brief moment from not knowing where the hell you were. last night was a whole blur apart from arriving and getting into the swing of things. you remember dancing and drinking and having fun with liza and a few other friends. it wasn’t usual for you to sleep at random people’s houses after parties, but last night must have been a little more eventful than others.

you let out a long breath you didn’t know you were holding as you sank into the back of the uber driver’s car. luckily, you didn’t get someone hopped up on coffee or blasting music. it was quiet and calm, enough so that you closed your eyes.

speaking of coffee, you could really use one. and food. and a shower. had you really slept on that nasty carpet last night? you shuddered and opened your eyes.

fishing out your phone from your clutch, you saw a few notifications from last night and the past few hours. you ignored them for now and unlocked your phone with the goal of texting one of your friends who worked at the diner in town and begging him to have your usual ready when you got there. it was all you could think about as your stomach rumbled.

but when you unlocked your phone, your eyebrows drew together. your screen opened to an internet tab, a little plane logo at the top corner.

“why the fuck did i buy a ticket to the outer banks?” you blurted to no one in particular. well, maybe to your friend beside you, who lived in the outer banks.

liza lolled her head toward you on the back of the seat, not at all looking as concerned as you felt. “you’re visiting, remember? i talked you into buying it last night.”

“why?” your head seemed to throb even worse.

you couldn’t go to the outer banks. you didn’t have the money for it and the ticket on your internet browser said you’d even bought a round trip one. god, why had you done that? you were saving up for the summer. you were saving up to see so much more than the outer banks. as much as you loved liza, and you knew she’d love to have you there, you would be wasting a weekend. how were you going to tell your boss that you needed off at such short notice?

liza shrugged beside you. “because my dad will be gone for a whole weekend and i’m throwing the biggest party ever and you love me and you promised to dance to ‘back that ass up’ with me there.”

“oh my god,” you groaned and dropped your phone into your lap. you rubbed your pulsing temples. “i can’t go, liza. i really need the money.”

“hence why you have a job—said job will pay that back in a week. you’re fine,” she waved her hand and turned back to the window.

“i need to work that weekend,” you argued. just thinking about asking for it off had your skin crawling.

“you can take time off. you never do.” liza shrugged, looking at you again. her face softened when she noticed how distraught you were over it. “look, if you really don’t want to, then just cancel it. it’s okay if you don’t come.”

your fingers came away from your head as you saw that she was being genuine. she may have joked around with you a lot, but she meant it when she said that.

friday

getting time off wasn’t easy. your boss acted like the ultimate villain in a boss level from a video game, having you go through all of these obstacles just to get three days off. you understood it, you were short-staffed anyways and it was hard, but you couldn’t help feeling as though they were a little harsh on you. it was always a fight to get time off, even when you showed up every day, on time, and did your work without complaint.

right after you talked to your boss, feeling the ultimate amount of shame over requesting three days, you searched high and low for someone to cover your shift. turns out, it wasn’t all that difficult to begin with since one of your co-workers—who just had a baby and was still a full-time student—told you they’d appreciate the extra hours. you felt instantly better afterward until your boss asked you to fill out three separate sheets for the time off. no, you couldn’t just write the three days on one sheet. it had to be three. separate. sheets.

it was completely ridiculous and uncalled for. you fumed for a while, pressing way too hard on your pen as you filled them out. once you set them on their desk, all filled out properly, you reminded yourself you could quit soon. just a few more months of the semester and you’d be gone.

the next day when you came in, your boss had allegedly lost those request papers. and funnily enough, they allowed you to put the weekend dates on one paper this time. you’d stared at them for a whole three minutes, paper in your hand and tongue between your teeth with angry words just dying to get out. you can quit soon. you can quit soon.

the weeks dragged by before the day finally arrived and you left for your flight. it was only when you got off the plane that the hours started to fly by. it was colder this time around, which you didn’t mind, even on the breezy ferry ride. you were looking forward to campfires and cozy sweaters.

you hopped off the ferry around noon and right into liza’s waiting arms at the dock. she was overjoyed about you visiting and you knew all the trouble with work was worth it just to get away for a little. you were young, there was no shame in a little time off, and liza was right—you’d already earned the money back for the ticket.

liza’s dad was bustling around their house when you arrived, packing like a crazy person on a time crunch. he threw a hello at you as he shuffled past with an armful of socks and possibly underwear, which had you lifting an eyebrow at liza. she shoved your arm and took your bag into the guest bedroom.

“where’s your dad running off to? can i go?” you teased, dropping your backpack onto the light green comforter. the white walls seemed brighter this time, but you accounted it for the new sheer curtains over the windows facing the back of the house.

“he’s going on a business trip. and no, you can’t. his girlfriend is going with him.” liza left your bag near the dresser and hopped on the bed, the comforter sighing under her weight.

“girlfriend? aw, man.” you frowned dramatically and lay on your stomach beside her. “do we like this girlfriend?”

“she’s very...” her left eye squinted as she thought. “eccentric. like, i don’t know how to take it. he seems happy though.”

“like, weird eccentric or crazy eccentric?”

“i don’t know. i haven’t breached the abortion topic with her yet. that could be very telling, don’t you think?” a playful smile hinted at her lips.

“totally telling,” you agreed.

minutes later, you were waving liza’s dad off as he pulled out of the driveway, liza standing a few steps in front of you. once he was gone and out of sight down the drive, liza turned back to you with a flourish and a cheshire grin spread on her face. you laughed as she pushed you into the house and began jumping excitedly. music started playing somewhere in between the jumping, which promptly turned to dancing in the kitchen. having a whole house to yourselves was always a thrilling thing.

it wasn’t long after that that liza told you to get ready for a party at the boneyard, as she called it. you had no idea whether to take that literally or just go along with it and be surprised. you went with the latter as you changed out of your airport clothes.

as you were heading that way, you thought about that one fling you had the last time you were here. what was his name? something rich, with a t. tom? trenton? no, no, something obscure. topper. god, you nearly forgot about him, but now that you were visiting again, you wondered if he was around. in the middle of the semester seemed like your luck would be out.

liza was slowing the car as you thought to text topper, just to see if he was here. you hadn’t talked since that summer—what was it? seven months ago? you hadn’t felt the need to keep in touch. didn’t he say to shoot him a text when you were in town again? you supposed there was no harm in doing so. what could be the worst thing to happen? maybe he wouldn’t be in town, but you wouldn’t be all that bummed about not having a hookup. you weren’t as ravenous as you were in the summer.

“are you getting out?”

your head turned and you found liza standing with the door open, her keys dangling from her hand. you hadn’t noticed that the car had parked or that you’d arrived at wherever the boneyard was. the beach was right in front of you, just over a small crest in the sand. you could smell it slipping into the car from where liza held the door propped open.

you opened your own door and hopped out, the gravel crunching under your shoes. you were glad you opted for a sweater with the early spring wind from the water as it blew over your shoulders and tangled into your hair.

a handful of people were already on the beach, stripped driftwood scattered around. most used them as seats while there was a fire already going and drinks in their hands. you couldn’t help but smile at the sight, a giddiness filling your chest. this was exactly what you needed and the perfect setting for it.

liza pulled you into a group with some familiar faces that you had met the last time around. small talk was immediately flowing and you couldn’t care less for it, but you welcomed it anyways. liza was quick to guide you to the next group and the next before you finally got comfortable with a drink in hand. you sipped it steadily and ditched your shoes with liza’s, sticking them under a piece of driftwood behind where you stood. one of liza’s friends was asking you about your degree, something along the lines of why you had chosen it. you couldn’t comprehend it fully as your eyes drifted around the sand where people stood in small groups and larger ones.

standing near an overturned lifeguard post that was sure to be rotting away was none other than topper. he was facing away from you, but you had no doubt in your mind that it was him. his hair was blonder than it was when you met, funnily enough in the colder months. he wore a sweatshirt (blue or dark green, you couldn’t tell) paired with shorts and (surprisingly) sneakers.

you turned back to liza’s friend, giving them a somewhat vague but good answer. you then excused yourself and split from the group to head in topper’s direction. you stopped just outside of his larger group and crossed your arms, holding on to your beer by the neck loosely. it took a minute or two for topper to notice you, obviously feeling a presence behind him and doing a double-take. you already had a smirk on your face.

“holy shit, hi.” he blinked rapidly, turning away from his friends.

“hi,” you laughed. both of you went in for a hug at the same time. topper pressed your waist firmly to his while you hugged him around his shoulders.

“it’s good to see you,” you said.

“yeah, you too.” there was surprise in his voice and features as if he never thought he would see you again. your hand slipped down his arm as you pulled away before you took a step back, your hands resting at your sides.

“how have—“

“hey! the touron’s back!” a voice over his shoulder shouted.

you looked in its direction, finding a menacing smirk on an all too familiar face. you couldn’t remember his name as he sipped arrogantly on a beer, perched on the rotting lifeguard’s post.

you found your own sweet smile and raised your free hand to flip him off, which only egged him on more as his laughter filtered out. you were instantly annoyed, although you didn’t show it as he had brought unwanted attention to you and topper. you were sure most of the people in this larger group had been on topper’s deck that day in the summer.

topper looked at a loss for words when you turned back to him, his eyes still on you. you were glad he wasn’t laughing at his friend’s comment.

“can i get you another drink?” he gestured to the bottle between your fingers and you glanced down, seeing that it was a sip away from empty.

you gave him a nod as you said, “sure.”

the sun was setting by the time you got a refill, the glass cold against your palm, and wandered off with topper toward the water. conversation flowed as you caught up, shrugging as you told him all you had been doing was working and studying. you were lucky if you got to go out and have fun once in a while. topper expressed the same, talking animatedly about college and visiting home for the weekend to see his friends.

you wondered what he was like at college, if he spent most of his quieter hours in the library reading articles or if he was the type of friend to take up guard in the kitchen at parties. it was easy to imagine him in those situations since you hardly knew him. his smirking friend certainly didn’t seem the type.

you flicked some wet sand into the water, imagining the waves bringing it back to settle at your feet. topper stood beside you, the wind tousling his locks. you had just mentioned how your mother had bought a new coffee machine and how your dad canceled it because there was no point in having two. your mother just figured it would be easier having two so no one had to wait on the single-cup brewing system. it made you laugh and roll your eyes when you heard about it over the phone. topper had been smiling the whole time as he listened, his head inclined like you were whispering.

a rush of heat had slithered down between your thighs when you caught his eyes a couple times. he was just watching you as you spoke and you couldn’t help but smile flirtatiously, wondering if he was thinking what you were thinking.

how you were imagining last summer and the feel of his hands on your skin. you wished you’d gotten to know more of him; if he had any scars or little beauty marks that you didn’t notice the first time. it was easy to imagine it, but you had the burning curiosity to see for yourself.

you needed to take a break, to get a gulp of air before you drowned in the thought and jumped his bones right here and now.

“i should go find liza,” you said abruptly even though no one had been speaking. “i’ll see you around?”

topper nodded without a word and you caught a glimpse of confusion on his face, but you walked away. you let out a deep breath as you felt the wet sand turn dry under your feet. the sky was an inky pink behind you, windshields on cars reflecting it back.

you wrapped an arm around liza when you found her and she smiled knowingly. you didn’t have to ask if she’d seen you with topper, it was quite obvious in such an open area.

topper took up his place with the group you took him away from, but this time he was facing your way. you closed your lips around your bottle, staring back at him as he did the same thing. a shiver went up your legs, goosebumps exposing to the crisp air around you. you had to look away before you walked over there and kissed the hell out of him. your heart was behaving rather poorly now.

but could you help it? every time he looked at you as the sky grew darker and the bonfire grew larger, every obscene image possible took shelter behind your eyes. your mouth dried out so many times that you eventually had to get another drink and another. topper wasn’t making it easy and you started digging holes with your feet just to stay put.

you wouldn’t go to him, you made that very clear to yourself. if topper wanted you, then he’d have to make the first move. stubborn as it was maybe, but you’d torture him if you had to like he was torturing you now with all of these looks under his lashes. christ.

“my god,” liza said into your ear as she stood on the driftwood behind you, arms around your neck. “you’d think topper was a starving man.”

“shut up,” you laughed and looked at a fallen log in the fire pit.

“i’m serious. you guys have been undressing each other for an hour and a half now. just go over there and make out with him.”

you smiled into your drink, keeping your eyes far away from topper, or else you might actually do just that.

“there’s hardly any pda going on as it is, we need entertainment,” liza sighed.

“there’s your entertainment,” you nodded your head toward a rowdy group of young high schoolers shouting at each other. three of them looked angry as all hell and there was a bit of shoving before one of the older college boys broke it apart.

“that was short-lived,” liza frowned as she hopped down from the driftwood.

“you want another drink?” you asked her as she finished off her last one.

“yes, please!” she beamed as you took her bottle and tossed them into a nearby trash bin. you headed for the stocked cooler and grabbed two beers. as you stood, topper was making his way over.

“you have any plans after this?” he asked without much preamble.

you smiled, pulling the tops off and taking a sip from your own, eyeing him as you did. that flicker of heat made its way back between your thighs, warming you all over. you couldn’t deny the suggestion in his question excited you and you were giving yourself a mental pat on the back for being patient.

“nope, i’m all yours.”

topper smiled slowly, his eyes flicking to your lips as you licked them. okay, maybe jumping his bones here and now wasn’t a terrible idea. but you needed to string this out, you wanted it to last—whatever it was.

“i don’t want to leave yet though. i’ll come find you?” it implied that you’d make him wait longer than you really would, but it was satisfying to see him practically drool at the thought of what was to come.

liza was giddy when you went back over, either for the beer or when you told her that you’d be going off with topper for a little. she smirked, knowing exactly what for, but she didn’t mind. she wasn’t leaving anytime soon, and not without you.

you didn’t make topper wait long. when you were ready, another beer in and a relieved bladder, you touched topper’s elbow as he talked with his friends closer to the cooler. the ice was partly melted, but there were still plenty of drinks left. the fire was feeding off sweltering heat, and with the cold wind, it was perfect.

“hey, you ready?” you asked when topper turned to you.

you weren’t sure exactly what topper had in mind when he had asked you if you were busy for the rest of the night, but not having a clue thrilled you a little.

“yeah,” he nodded and took the last sip from his beer. his slid his hand up, capturing yours before tugging you along toward the parked cars. hardly anyone was over there. you could faintly hear voices and sounds from inside a few cars, some windows cracked. your fingertips warmed as your heart beat, pushing blood to every corner.

topper’s jeep came in sight and you tried to remember the inside. was there enough room for both of you in the back seat? or maybe you’d share one of the front ones. it didn’t matter to you, as long as he put his lips to use.

your back met the side of the jeep as topper leaned his hands on the window, caging you in. you were quick to close the space between you, either the beer taking the reins or your lack of patience from the past few hours of being here and having a staring contest with him. your breaths mingled and your hands grabbed fistfuls of his sweatshirt to pull him closer. the familiar tingles spread between your thighs and you wasted no time in showing him how impatient you were.

“i don’t think either of us is fit enough to drive, topper,” you breathed when you had the chance.

there was no way you could drive with everything you drank. topper tasted like the beer too, but you weren’t sure if he was fit enough to drive either. you didn’t want to chance it, nor could you wait that long.

“what do you want to do?” he asked against the skin of your neck, his nose skimming up the side. he pressed a few kisses, getting closer to your jaw.

you tilted your head back against the door and sighed, closing your eyes momentarily then opening them to find a few stars winking at you. there were so many once you focused on them. topper interrupted your gaze, pulling you by the back of your head to his lips. he kissed you as if you were his last meal, his tongue licking into your mouth. you moaned, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his hair. you remembered him being this much of a good kisser.

“let’s find a spot on the beach,” you suggested, only getting a kiss on the corner of his mouth before he pulled away.

his eyes were blown wide, his hair ruffled. if you looked hard enough, his cheeks were sure to be flushed, both from alcohol and excitement.

“seriously?” he asked, his hand stilling on the back of your head.

you laughed and nodded, brushing a lock of his hair. “yeah, why not?”

a cold wind blew, tossing your hair into your eyes. topper caught it and pushed it back to its spot behind your ear.

“i think you’re the girl of my dreams,” he joked.

you grinned and slid your hands down his chest. “do you have a towel?”

topper had to pick his jaw up off the gravel before he finally moved away from you and opened his jeep. he ruffled around in the back then finally pulled out a blanket.

“very resourceful,” you commented as he closed the door.

“never know when you might need it,” he said as he threw it around you, shielding your bare legs from the wind. he turned again to the jeep and bent over the driver’s seat to get something. you saw it was a condom when he turned back and closed the door.

“also resourceful.”

he laughed then took your hand back in his. you headed back toward the beach but in the opposite direction of where the bonfire was. it was quieter the further you got, nothing but the waves coming into the shore. it was darker too; all the more private.

topper took the blanket from you and settled it down. you took a seat as he fixed a corner, swiping sand that had gotten on to it. once he sat beside you, he pulled you back against his lips.

you knelt up and scooted closer, placing your hands on his shoulders for leverage as you swung a leg over his waist. you sat in his lap and hummed as you felt him against your thigh. he squeezed you closer in response.

“i’ve never fucked someone on a beach before,” you admitted as you slipped your hands under his sweatshirt and the t-shirt beneath, pushing them up.

“i’ve never fucked anyone outside before.”

“what?” you pulled away to look down at him, your hands freezing on his chest. he was breathing deeply and you swore you felt the patter of his heart against your fingertips. “really?”

“yeah,” he shrugged and glanced over your shoulder toward the water. “just never had the chance to try.”

“what do you mean? you live on an island.” you let his clothes fall back down, stopping above his belly button. “i’ve been here twice and i’ve seen at least twenty ideal places that would be perfect for it.”

“i don’t know, i never asked anyone and no one asked me.” he shrugged again and you knew you were looking way too into this, but it seemed impossible that he hadn’t done this at least once before. you knew that if you lived here, you would’ve done it countless times.

your hands slid back up. “well, tonight’s your lucky night.”

you pulled topper back to your lips, tongues meeting. his hands rubbed along your back and you couldn’t help but arch into him as he slipped them beneath your sweater. his hands were so warm that it felt as if he set fire to your skin. you moaned and sunk your teeth into his lip briefly. a shiver wrecked your body just as topper’s hands came around to your front, sliding up to your breasts. you felt your nipples peek at the contact and topper made it even worse when his thumbs brushed over them.

“christ, it’s cold,” you mumbled as another shiver came and went.

“mhmm,” he hummed. “i’m sure that’s what it is.”

you laughed and wanted to swat at him. instead, you swallowed that little bit of nerves edging close to the surface and reached a hand to his lap. you watched as topper’s lips parted as your hand squeezed him over his shorts. the fabric was soft as topper grew harder. you relished in his expression, the way his eyebrows were drawn together, and how his jaw flinched when he closed his mouth.

topper’s hands fell away as you stood. he looked ready to pull you back down until he realized what you were doing and watched closely as you pulled your shorts and underwear down together. you kicked them aside and shivered as another wind blew.

sitting over topper again, you knelt up onto your knees to pull his shorts down. you couldn’t help swallowing at the sight of him. as dark as it was, you could still see him pretty well. your hand wrapped around him, solid and warm in your palm. topper groaned and leaned back on his hands.

“where’s the condom?” you asked as you stroked him, not at all in a rush with your hand around him.

topper registered your question and patted around the blanket for a moment before holding a square packet between his fingers. you took it from him and bit down on an edge, ripping it open with your free hand. you took the rubber between your fingers and spat the packaging somewhere. topper’s breathing became swallow all the while you stroked him. you stopped and rolled the condom onto him then leaned forward for a kiss.

topper reciprocated, his hands grabbing ahold of your hips until he pulled away to look up at you.

“what if you get sand in your vagina?” he asked, an innocent tone wrapping around his voice.

you couldn’t help the smile or the way your eyebrows furrowed all the while wanting to laugh. that’s what he’s thinking about?

“nothing that hasn’t happened before. it usually takes a couple of days to get rid of but i’ll be fine.”

the topic didn’t stop there. “does it hurt?”

“no, i’ll be fine,” a small laugh slipped out. “that’s why we have a blanket. and i’m on top. can we stop talking about sand getting in my vagina now? it’s kind of killing the mood.”

“sorry,” he shook his head, an embarrassed expression taking form.

you snorted, laughter bubbling up your throat. how did that question even come about in his head? you supposed it was nice of him to care about such a thing. you hoped your laughter didn’t make him feel more embarrassed.

his expression morphed into an amused one and he joined in, laughing at his odd question. you both shook with laughter for a few moments until you calmed down. topper squeezed his fingers on your hips, dragging his palms down your thighs. you brought your lips back to his and your hands to his chest. pushing him gently, you went with him as he lay down. you stayed against him for a couple more seconds before sitting up over him and finding him in your hand again.

topper groaned and gripped your thighs as you brought him into your heat. you couldn’t find your breath as you took him all the way in and sat over him, feeling completely and utterly filled. he was in your stomach, under your skin, everywhere.

“fuck, yes,” you panted, branding your palms on his stomach, pushing his sweatshirt and shirt up again. he was flushed from head to toe, something you were slowly building up to be.

you started off rocking back and forth slowly, feeling him pull and glide inside of you. when you dragged your clit against his skin, which was getting hotter and hotter with the friction, you couldn’t help the way your body tightened around him.

“y/n. oh, fuck—you gotta bounce for me,” topper choked out underneath you, moving his hands to your waist to grip tightly.

you nodded without words, not really finding any with your tongue tied. your hands pushed against his stomach as you lifted yourself up, letting almost all of him leave you empty. then you slammed down, moaning as loud as you could. you didn’t care. not one bit. you were still aware of the bonfire happening yards away, but you didn’t care if someone from the party was walking this way and heard you. let them hear how good topper felt inside you.

a quicker pace was set, sweat building in the creases of your knees and under your hands planted against topper. you loved this. all you could think about was how good it felt, how you fucked topper hard and fast—and how you were getting to fuck him again. it was so much better than the first time, even though you loved having him behind you then. this was just as good.

topper was sitting up again, your sweater rubbing against his and your body feeling way too hot. his hands gripped your ass tightly, helping you rock your hips over him. you were close, closer every time your clit brushed against him at this angle.

it became too much very quickly. you held on to him by his hair at the back of his head, gripping so tightly your knuckles were probably white, and reached your other hand down to touch yourself. your moans were growing higher and more frequent and topper was full-blown panting in your face. when you reached your end, a strangled sound came out of you. you stilled over topper, pulling more of his hair as you came over him.

not long after when you were moving again over him, your mouth on his neck and arms around his shoulders, his grip tightened on your ass as he came. you hummed and gave a few pecks just before he let go and fell onto his back. you followed, moving off of him and laying on your side.

“how long are you here?” topper asked minutes later, his breathing leveling out.

“i leave sunday morning,” you said, blinking tired eyes open as a wind blew over you.

“can i see you again?”

you smiled, your eyes shifting to topper beside you. “don’t you mean can you fuck me again?”

his lips spread wide and if his eyes were open, you had a feeling he’d be rolling them. laughing, you pushed yourself onto your elbow and touched his cheek.

“liza is having a party tomorrow. you should come,” you said quietly, leaning down to brush your lips over his.

“okay.”

“that was easy.”

“it doesn’t take much to convince me,” his voice was tired, piquing your interest.

“am i that good?”

all you got in return was a low laugh.

“i’m taking that as a ‘hell yes’ so thank you very much.”

topper let out a noise just before he moved, pushing you onto your back. his lips landed over yours, gentle and thorough.

saturday

it was a blur of drinks and games and dancing at liza’s house. every room was filled and it was hot for a few hours until you stationed yourself out on the deck with topper. you could lie and say that you didn’t sit out there just to make out with him, but that’s exactly what you did. it was perfect—even more perfect when his shitty friends didn’t show up with him. if you hadn’t been so distracted by his mouth, you would’ve thanked him then and there.

hours later, you had met topper at the front door. you informed liza of your new plans and she was more than happy to get you out of her hair, especially when her eyes latched on to someone and she started to drool into her drink. you grinned fiendishly at her and quickly went on your way.

topper was unlocking his front door and your legs were still a little tingly from the drinks you had over the past few hours. your hand absentmindedly ran along his forearm, needing to feel him so you could stay grounded and alert.

“if you don’t open this door, i’m going to fall asleep right on this porch.”

topper laughed, his keys jingling in his hand. it was a few more seconds of him trying without a light until he eventually found the keyhole and the door swung open. there was a rug that the bottom of the door brushed over and topper walked ahead of you, leading you in by the arm you refused to let go of. he was warm and solid. if you let go, you might evaporate.

your eyes adjusted with the lack of light in the entryway as topper closed the door behind you, sliding the lock into place. your skin felt like it was humming, the hairs on your arm standing up as you stayed close to topper. his shoes scuffed as he kicked them off, his keys dropping onto a table near the door while his other hand wrapped around your wrist. he lured you in by heat alone and you leaned in. your lips landed on his shirt, but you moved them until you found warm skin past the neckline.

reaching down, you found the strap of your sandals and worked to get them undone. why you wore sandals was completely lost on you as you struggled. topper grabbed ahold of you so you wouldn’t fall while your lips pressed a few more kisses into his neck. his hands were searing against your shirt and your skin pricked with the need to have them everywhere.

you kicked off your shoes, feeling your bare foot brush other pairs as topper grabbed ahold of your neck. you didn’t know where he was leading you until his lips landed against your cheek. he adjusted to where he meant to land and opened your lips with his own, coaxing your tongue with his. you moaned as if you were melting, your hands moving along his back as your body relaxed into his. another noise slipped from you, your hands moving down to his hips. one of them you let venture further until you felt him straining against his jeans.

topper gasped, his breath fanning over your mouth and down your neck. you grinned as you squeezed him just so you could see how he’d react.

it was cut short by light flooding the room and burning behind your eyelids. you flinched, parting from topper and squinting.

you were doing so well with no interruptions.

“topper? oh—i’m sorry,” a voice came from your left and you held your eyes open long enough to see a woman standing there, her hand falling from the light switch.

you suddenly remembered where you were holding topper and you dropped your hand, a hot blush crawling up onto your cheeks. you shuffled away from topper faster than he did at composing himself. was it wishful thinking to hope this woman didn’t see where your hand was placed a second ago?

“mom,” topper breathed, hiding his lack of breath well. your own heart was beating so loudly in your ears you figured the woman could hear it too in the entryway.

you averted your eyes, embarrassment dousing you from head to toe at the fact that you’d been caught by topper’s mother.

“we’ll be in my room,” topper said. his hand engulfed yours and you couldn’t remember how to use your feet or legs. “night.”

you kept your head down as topper tugged you past his mother, her robe flowing with the movement. he guided you through the unlit house until you came to his room.

“christ,” he sighed and dropped your hand to close the door. “i’m sorry about that.”

“it’s inevitable when you live with parents,” you shrugged and laughed, looking over your shoulder as topper rubbed his hands down his face. when he dropped them, he shook his head with an amused smile.

you turned back to his room and glanced around, the light a little brighter from the open windows. the decorations were the same, but for the most part it didn’t look all that lived in. you moved to his bed and sat at the end of it, running your hands along the comforter and remembering the last time you were here.

your eyes found topper’s like a magnet. your skin pricked with that awareness of him. reaching, you pulled your shirt off and let it fall beside you. topper watched, his eyes following every movement you made, his gaze moving over you like liquid.

you held your hand out towards him, coaxing him over where you sat. he approached until he was in front of you and even then, you pulled him closer with your hands on his hips again. your eyes fluttered shut as he came between your legs and touched your face, bending down to plant kisses on your forehead, cheeks, and nose. your thighs tightened around him, your hand dropping back to its original spot before you were interrupted. topper kissed you on the mouth then, his tongue hot and invading.

you pushed your palm into him a few times and rubbed until his breath was heavy in your mouth. even though you were kissing him and delighting in the ways he could use his tongue, your mouth felt dry for him. a moment later, your fingers glided up to the button of his jeans, working determinedly to unfasten them.

when his shirt was off and his jeans were unbuttoned, you nudged him backward, slipping from the bed and onto your knees. you pressed your lips along his stomach, feeling it tighten under your mouth as his hands brushed your hair back.

“tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” you said quietly, looking up at him as your fingers fisted the waistband of his jeans, slipping into his boxers too.

topper heaved a breath and nodded. you pressed another kiss just beside his belly button as you tugged on his bottoms, pulling them past his hips and leaving them to rest just above his knees.

you didn’t waste any more time. you took him into your mouth within the first few seconds of him smacking his stomach. he moaned with your lips around him and held your face as you licked him thoroughly. you couldn’t stop once you started and it took everything in you not to give him that release as his hand tightened on your face and his hips began to move.

he didn’t protest or get upset when you pulled away, licking your lips and standing. he just kissed you deeply and you wondered if he liked the taste of himself in your mouth. you certainly did.

all of your blood was gathered at your center. your skin was bubbling to a boil and topper helped you cool down, shedding the rest of the clothes between you. your hands wandered all over him as you sat back on the bed, pulling him with you.

you separated for only a second to kiss just under his ear, panting, “i want you inside me. now. i have an IUD.”

topper’s hands paused, his fingertips brushing the underside of your breast. “no condom?” he asked, pulling away further to meet your eyes.

you nodded, biting your lip to keep from putting him inside you now. “as long as you’re okay with it?”

“are you sure?” his eyebrows furrowed and you couldn’t tell if he was worried about you or if he really didn’t want to.

you nodded again as you were having trouble finding words without your breath. “have you been tested lately?”

“before i came home. i’m clean,” he said, his hands moving again and squeezing your thighs.

you grinned as your stomach rolled. you pulled him back to you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and smiling against his lips. “me too,” you managed to say and laughed as the excitement poured over.

topper’s skin suddenly felt too hot, but you couldn’t pull your hands away from him if you tried. more blood rushed in between your legs. topper kissed you a few times before pulling away and leaning forward, his hand moving to your lower back to hold you upright while his other landed on the comforter to hold himself up. you drew your legs up around him and tugged him closer, breathing heavily as you anticipated his next move.

he swallowed thickly and averted his eyes down, his hand leaving your skin to grab ahold of himself. you bit your lip as you watched, seeing him swollen and ready and practically dripping. your stomach rolled into a tight ball as his hips grew closer and you bit your lips shut as a noise of surprise left you, floating around the room, when topper dragged his head along your folds painstakingly slow.

as much as you wanted to close your eyes to completely let your senses take over, you lifted them to topper’s face. he closed his eyes as he poked his head at your entrance. when he started to slip inside slowly, his mouth opened and his hand went back to hold you. you held your breath as you felt him inch after inch, filling you and stretching you.

his head fell to your shoulder once he was completely inside, a muffled curse leaving his lips.

“oh my god,” you said at the same time as he said, “god, you feel amazing.”

his hips retracted slowly, just as slow as how he entered, and his lips guided back to yours.

“c-can you move back a little?” he asked. the angle was probably straining him unlike you.

you nodded and didn’t have to do all that much as his hand kept you close to him, keeping himself inside of you, as you moved further onto the bed. you laid on your back and moaned as topper started to move, pinning your hips below his.

“you need to be quiet,” he said.

“why?”

“because my mom is right down the hall.”

“so? she obviously knows what we’re doing.”

“still.”

“oh, topper,” you moaned a little louder, a smile curling the corners of your lips.

topper’s hand landed over your mouth. you laughed into his palm and opened up to bite on his finger.

“you should move that hand a little lower,” you suggested, rolling your hips into his.

topper laughed breathily and a moment later, moved his hand to your neck. his hips drew back then and he thrusted, harder than before.

“oh, fuck,” you panted, tightening your hold on him.

“you like that?” he asked, his fingers flexing on your throat.

“mhm,” you managed, your face screwing up. “just like that.”

you sucked in a gasp, your breath staying in your lungs as topper did it again. you couldn’t look at him, couldn’t do anything but feel everything he was doing to you from your throat to him between your thighs. your back arched, pushing your breasts into his chest. you cried out the next time he thrust, hitting you so deeply, your nipples peeked to hardened points. fuck.

“don’t stop,” you couldn’t stop gasping. “please, don’t stop. it feels so good.”

tears pricked your eyes as he did it again, picking up a rhythm and sticking to it. his hand let go of your throat and gathered your hands into his, pinning them above your head as he fucked into you. the harder he went, the more your nails dug into the backs of his hands. his fingers tightened over yours and you cried out with your hips smacking. he didn’t cover your mouth this time, suddenly not caring if his mom heard you. you didn’t care either, you wanted this to go on all night. hopefully it would.

tears spilled when he didn’t let up his grip or his pace. they fell more as he drove into you quicker. it hurt so good, you couldn’t breathe. you didn’t dare open your eyes to see if he was enjoying it too. you hoped he was, you hoped he was loving pinning your hands down, driving into you like an animal. you didn’t know topper had this in him.

his hand let go of one of yours but you left it where it was as his thumb flicked your clit. your breaths grew higher within seconds and you tightened around him, your free hand flying to his arm where your nails dug in deep. you couldn’t stop the cry bubbling in your chest even if you wanted to. it was going to come out whether you liked it or not and topper wasn’t doing anything to muffle it.

“fuck—i’m going to come,” he sighed, his voice strained. was he losing it too? “come for me, please, baby. come with me.”

“top—” your muscles spasmed and everything exploded. you cried out his name however many times as you came over him, feeling him do the same as he thrusted and emptied inside you. his spurts were heavy and warm as his face buried into your neck, his mouth slick one moment then his teeth latching on to you. you grabbed the back of his head and pulled at his hair as he bit you, not hard enough to break the skin, but it still hurt so good.

“oh my god,” you panted as topper lay limp on you. you could feel both of your orgasms dissipating as your juices mixed and dripped out of you.

having let go of your neck, topper licked over the pulsing spot and lifted his head up to look down at you.

“are you okay?” he asked, sweat collected along his hairline. his thumb brushed your drying tears away.

“that was—i—topper,” you shook your head, wishing you could find the words. “i feel very good right now.”

he laughed, shaking your body with his and making you moan as you felt him rub inside of you. “i’m glad,” he said, kissing the underside of your jaw. “i think we need water and snacks so i’m going to go get some.”

“mmm. that’s a good idea.” you couldn’t bring yourself to wipe his sweat away just to feel it on your fingertips. you were spent.

he smiled and pecked your numb lips before sliding out of you and getting up.

cleaned up and under the covers, topper laid out an array of snacks and water bottles. you sat propped up against his pillows while he lay on his side, his head propped against his hand.

“will you come back next summer?” he asked, popping a piece of fruit into his mouth.

you reached for the cereal bowl of chocolate and stopped the smile from stretching across your face. “maybe.”

“i was looking for an answer more along the lines of yes.”

“you’ll have to be more persuasive then,” you hummed and chewed.

“i can be persuasive.” he was grinning and you couldn’t help thinking that he never looked better. tired, hair messy, dressed in just boxers, completely sated.

“oh yeah?” you raised a brow at him.

“mhmm,” he nodded, putting the fruit down and moving onto his hands and knees to crawl towards you. he grabbed ahold of the comforter and pulled it back a little, revealing your chest to the cool air. his head lowered to press a single kiss to the swell of your breast. then he moved to the other. he pressed a final kiss to your shoulder.

“how’s that?”

you shrugged the shoulder he just kissed and kept the smile off your face. mostly.

topper grinned again and it reached his eyes. he looked over you, down your chest, then slid his hand under the blanket to your thigh. “am i getting closer?”

you gasped and grabbed onto the back of his neck as his fingers ran up the inside of your thigh. heat swirled between your legs. “definitely.”

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[caffeineforbucky]

As Time Goes By...(Chapter five)

A/N: I finished RE8, fucking finally!! Welp, my little brother helped with mother Miranda. I'm not gonna lie, I'm not ashamed of it!!! He's a fucking master at first-person shooter. Anyway, I hope you like this latest edition...addition? Idk, enjoy!

As always, creds to @lokilauffeyson for the text dividers.

@boofy1998 this one's for you!

Word count:3,596

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Diner aesthetic...sorta? Helmut Zemo (not really a warning but he's in here!) Swearing, metal arm, and choking kink?... it's kind of implied.

(TFATWS Spoilers...if you haven't seen the show.)

Clatters of cheap silverware clinking against plastic, along with the soft tune of Sam Cooke's You Send Me playing through the jukebox displayed at the end of the '50s themed diner you happened across. Aromas of bacon, burnt toast, and synthetic syrup filled the air while you sipped the last of coffee inside your mug.

Your back rested against vinyl, tapping your foot to the beat of the next song that emitted from the juke. You didn't know Baltimore too well, but you hadn't consumed a full meal since Munich, and you just wanted a decent cup of coffee. You were going to give up until you got the nerve to ask some locals, and they directed you to Sal's Diner, the best cup of joe in town.

The bell jingled above Bucky as soon as he pushed through the door, Sam trailing behind. Baby blues observed the restaurant, darting through every booth and stool until they landed on you, shoving a triangle stack of pancakes into your mouth. "Found her," He uttered, glancing behind his shoulder to make sure Sam was following. Heavy boots strode over to you, a determined look plastered on his face as he slid into the booth opposite of you. You didn't even notice Sam until he cleared his throat, gaining your attention.

"Fellas," You acknowledge, flashing them a smile, flagging down the waitress for a refill. "So lovely of you to finally join me."

"Where the hell have you been?" Bucky hisses, lowering his tone as the waitress comes into view, a fresh pot of coffee in her grasp.

"Will that be all, honey?" Her voice like summer rain, topping off your empty mug. She fishes a few creamers and sugar packets from her apron, gently placing them beside your plate with half a stack of hotcakes.

"Yes, thank you, Dorrit," You smile up at her, turning the mug so the handle can face you. "You just keep that coffee coming. Locals were right," You mumble, your eyes drifting to Sam and Bucky in front of you. "Best cup of joe in town."

"Alrighty, and can I get anything for you guests?"

Dorrit flickers her eyes to guys, fully turning her body as she reaches for her notepad. She flips over a few pages and gets ready with the click of her sparkly pen.

"Coffee, please?" Sam asks, "And I'll take a slice of that cherry pie." He points to the glass dome, a variety of baked goods lined up for the customers to swipe. "Thank you..." Sam squints, leaning closer to make sure her name was correct. "Dorrit." He finishes, earning a smile and a nod from the waitress as she wrote down his order.

"Nothin' for me, thank you." Bucky dismisses, his eyes intense and focused, but they never left you.

"You'll have to excuse my friend, Dorrit," You pipe up, vision narrowed to a pinprick as they stood locked on the blue-eyed menace across from you. "It seems he left his manners back in the '40s." You finally rip your eyes away from Bucky, sending the waitress an apologetic smile.

"Don't worry about it, honey. He was a perfect gentleman, as opposed to some of the men I get in here." She chuckles, gently patting your shoulder. "I'll come back with that coffee and pie for ya," She promises, smiling sweetly at Sam, dropping her notepad into her apron. As soon as she left, both sets of eyes were back on you.

"So...?" Bucky presses, completely ignoring your call-out.

"I told you I was going to grab a coffee, I texted Sam." You informed, lifting your mug to take a sip, making room for creamer.

"All the way across town?!" Bucky whisper shouts, placing both glove-clad hands flat on the table to lean forward. "Do you know how many coffee shops we've been through just to find you?"

You shrug.

"A lot!" Bucky purses his lips, falling back on the vinyl booth as he blows out an aggravated sigh, hands coming off the table to fold his arms over his chest.

"Well, you found me. Congratulations!" You cheer, softly clapping your hands together. "Ten points for Bucky!"

"Y/N..." Sam sighs, his tone letting you know that he didn't want to hear it. It was bad enough that he had to take care of one kid, but he never signed up for two.

"Fine," You grumble, raising your hands in defeat. "I'll stop."

"Good, now we have to talk about possible leads-"

"Here we are!" Dorrit's arrival cuts Sam short, placing a steaming cup of joe and a slice of cherry pie in front of him. "Enjoy, honey!" She grins, tucking some napkins under his plate. "And let me know if you need anything else," She looks at you, a toothy grin at her mouth.

"Will do, thank you!" You reciprocate her smile, watching while she disappears into the back. "What leads?" You ask, looking to Sam, encouraging him to continue.

"That's what I'm saying, so, if anyone has an idea," Sam picks up the mug, bringing the rim closer to his nose, taking a whiff. "-Now would be a good time to talk." He finishes, blowing a few times at the liquid before trying it.

"So?" You ask, waiting for Sam's review, your attention fixated on the falcon to give you a rating. "What do you think?"

A few more sips, and a smack of his tongue, Sam smiles. "Pretty damn good!" He marvels, nodding in agreement. "It's nutty but also tastes like fruit? Almost like a berry-"

"Guys!" Bucky interrupts, "We have bigger things to worry about than what a cup of coffee tastes like." He wasn't about to sit and listen as if he were watching an infomercial or a radio ad. "We need to focus on the super serum."

You shoot him a bored look, almost glaring. "You always gotta take the fun out of things, don't ya, old man?"

"When Isaiah said, my people..."

"Oh, don't take that to heart," Sam dismisses, taking a chunk from his pie before popping into his mouth. "That's not what he meant," But it sounded more like gibberish.

"No," Bucky clarifies, shaking his head. "He meant Hydra. Hydra used to be my people."

Sam swallows, thinking long and hard on Bucky and what he was implying. It wasn't until that the winter soldier gave him a stern nod that it clicked. "Nuh-uh," Sam scoffs, shaking his head in disapproval. "Not a fucking chance."

"Walker doesn't have any leads," Bucky reminds him, making your brain try and connect the pieces. Of course, Bucky wasn't talking about...him.

"I know where you're going with this, and the answer is no," Sam argues, sharing a knowing look with you.

"He does know all of Hydra's secrets," You sigh, on the fence with Bucky's suggestion since the lightbulb in your brain went off. Bucky's head snaps to you, realizing that for the first time since Munich, you were on his side. "Don't you remember Siberia? I mean, despite him trying to kill me."

Sam pinches the bridge of his nose, a sign that he was becoming stressed. He didn't want to, but he knew that he was the only way you were ever going to take down the Flag Smashers. "So," Sam starts, eyes finding Bucky's. "You're just gonna sit in a room with this guy?"

"Mmm," Bucky hesitates, not one-hundred percent sure if he was in his right mind. "Yes?"

"Okay, then?" You drag, drifting your eyes to Sam for confirmation.

"We're going to see Zemo."

"What are you talkin' about?!" Sam exclaims as Bucky leads you through a dark hall, into an abandoned car garage. "You wanna break Zemo outta jail? Where are we, Buck? Have you lost your mind?"

"We have no leads, no moves, nothing," Bucky explains, sighing as he aimed his flashlight to find a light switch since it was hard to see.

"What we have..." You remind him, flashing your light at Bucky to get a view of his face. "Is one of the most dangerous men in the world behind bars. You're talking about doing something that makes you sound like you've finally lost it."

"And..." Bucky starts, dismissing your insult. "We also have eight super-soldiers that are loose."

"Zemo's gonna mess with our minds, Bucky," You retort, sharing a look with Sam before looking at Bucky again. "Especially yours, no offense."

"Offense." The lights flicker on. "Super soldiers go against everything he believes in," Bucky replies, shutting off his flashlight, placing it on the shelf. "He is crazy, but he still has a code."

"Yeah," Sam grunts, "And we've been on the wrong side of that code, Buck. And so have you. He blew up the UN, tried to kill us, killed king T'Chaka, and framed you for it. Did you forget about that? Do you think the Wakandans forgot about it? It's a rhetorical question..."

Sam snickers, looking to you to see if you were hearing the same conversation he was. "They didn't," he continues, his gaze hardening as it settled on the super-soldier. "I know why this matters to you, but it's pushing you off the deep end."

"Guys, we don't know how they're getting the serum. We don't even know how many of them are. "

Bucky had a valid point, then again so did Sam. As right as he was, you couldn't get behind breaking Zemo out of jail. But he was the only key to knowing where, and how the super serum came to be. "Yeah..." You add, "I have to agree with Sam on this one. You're talkin' crazy. Zemo was practically born under a bad sign."

"Look, let me walk you guys through a hypothetical. Can I walk you through a hypothetical?"

Your eyes narrow to a slit, not liking the tone that came out of Bucky's mouth. "Shit," You curse, head hanging low. "What did you do, Buck?"

"What? What do you mean?" You saw the panic settle in Sam's eyes, he could tell just from the way your tone dropped, that something was wrong. His eyes flicker to the winter soldier. "Why does she think you did something, what'd you do?"

"I didn't do anything..." Bucky deflects, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. "The weakest point in any system isn't the software, the hardware, it's the meatware," He starts, eyes gleaming with excitement. "The human element...Now, in this lockup, it's nine to one, prisoners to guards. And if two prisoners start fighting, then the protocol says four guards have to respond."

"So..." Sam's frown etches deeper, and you only felt your stomach drop even more. Where the hell was he going with this? "Why would two prisoners start fighting randomly at that moment?"

"Who knows?" Bucky shakes his head, one corner of his mouth lifting into a weak smile, almost as if he were proud of himself. "There could be many reasons...But, the point is these things escalate. Lockdown procedures would have to be initiated, and with all those bodies flying left and right, wouldn't be hard to slip down a hallway or two."

You eye Bucky, growing suspicious of the fact that he was sounding way too calm, and the way he was talking about the situation. It almost sounded like this was happening in real-time. "I don't like where this is going..." You whisper, leaning towards Sam.

"And...if the fire alarm got tripped while the prisoners were being separated...someone could use the chaos to their advantage."

"I don't like how casual you're bein' about this, it's unnatural. Are you-and where the hell are we, man?" Sam demands, his voice is still soft as his face twisted into utter confusion, taking a good look around.

A loud bang from the entrance made your heart drop to your stomach. Everything Bucky was explaining was starting to make sense, a shadowy figure makes itself known behind the plastic drapes on the doorway. Your eyes widen, the figure revealing himself. You couldn't even hear the protests coming from Sam as he saw who came through.

No, it couldn't be. You hadn't even noticed your feet retrieving as if they had a mind of their own. You backed into the metal shelves, your heart palpitating, the feeling going down into the palm of your hands. You could feel your head spinning as well as the sound of your loud heartbeat setting up camp in your ears. What the fuck?

"We need him, Sam." Bucky's voice finally came through as you began to anchor yourself to reality. You took a few steps, placing your hands on the shelf as you moved all the miscellaneous to feel the cool metal under your palms. You drew in a sharp intake of air, ignoring the discomfort in your chest.

"Wait..." Sam stopped suddenly, "Where's Y/N?" Observing the area around them only to find you nowhere, and what they failed to notice is that you had walked to the far corner of the garage, your head against the wall to keep yourself from tackling Zemo, you'd like to think you had a bit of self-control.

"Y/N?" Bucky vocalized, hoping that you were in earshot. He rubbed his neck, panic flashing in his eyes as he scanned the area. "Y/N!" He calls louder this time, and that's when he heard your grunts.

"I'm here," You say in a hushed tone, but it was quiet enough in the garage for them to hear you. You push off the wall, prowling off to where the guys stood, your eyes never leaving Zemo. "You're going back to prison." You press, your expression contorted into a scowl.

"If I may..." Zemo starts, raising his hands in defense.

"NO!" Bucky and Sam shout in unison, making Zemo's mouth snap shut.

"Apologies..."

Bucky sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, growing irritated with the fact that you and Sam were not on board with his plan. He understood why you weren't but Sam was a different story. "When Steve refused to sign the Sokovia accords, you and Y/N backed him." Bucky insists, looking between you and Sam for any disagreement, but you stay quiet. "You broke the law, and stuck your necks out for me. I'm asking you to do it again."

"I really think I'm invaluable..." Zemo starts up again, making you groan out in frustration.

"Dude, seriously..." You advise him, your jaw clenched with detestation for the man adjacent to you. "Shut up."

"Okay."

"If we do this..." Sam sighs, directing his finger at Zemo. "You don't make a move without our permission, especially Y/N's."

You nod once, smiling victoriously at Sam's order. It eased some of your discomforts even if you were still weary around Zemo. It didn't take a genius to see that.

"Fair," Zemo shrugs, folding his hands in agreement.

"Where do we start?"

You bite your lip in vexation, fingers tapping at your bicep with crossed arms. A hardened gaze set on Helmut Zemo while he sipped his champagne, growing ill at ease from your eyes burning holes right through him.

"Where are we going?" Sam asks, breaking the tension that had settled into the jet. He kept a close eye on you with knowledge of how short-fused you were. Anything and anyone could set you off. It was a common trait you shared with the super-soldier himself, among other things.

"I'm sorry," Zemo clears his throat, dodging Sam's question as he sets the flute down, fingers gripping a magazine. "I was just fascinated by this. I don't know what to call it, but this part seems important," He notes, gesturing to something on the pages. "Who is Nakijima?"

In a blink of an eye, Bucky rose from his chair. His vibranium hand wraps around the neck of Zemo, fingers tightening, eyes darkening. "If you touch that again, I'll kill you."

Your arms slowly came apart, mouth parted, and widened eyes staring at the scene before you. You didn't expect the sudden outburst, and as shocked as you were, you couldn't help but admit that it kind of turned you on. You shift in your seat, adjusting your position, your cheeks burning furiously at the thought of Bucky grabbing your neck while he presses you into a wall and-God, You thought, Maybe I should check into therapy.

"I'm sorry," Zemo wheezes, Bucky's metal fingers crushing his windpipe under his strength. Before taking the notebook from Zemo's hand, Bucky pushes his neck back, loosening his fingers to retake his seat across Sam.

"I understand that list of names," Zemo starts again, taking in a deep breath to level out his breathing. "People you've wronged at the winter soldier."

"Don't push it," Bucky advises, shoving the small brown notebook into a pocket inside his jacket.

"I've seen that book, " You say, clearing your throat as to not have a choking fit at your own thoughts. As angry as you were with the menace, he still had a place in your mind. "It was Steve's when he came out of the ice."

"Yeah!" Sam beams, nodding in agreement with your statement. "I told him about Trouble Man, and he wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What'd you think?"

"I like '40s music, so," Bucky shrugs in dismissal, leaning back into the leather of the jet seats.

"You didn't like it?"

"I liked it," Bucky reassures.

"It is a masterpiece, James," Zemo adds, "It captures the African-American experience."

"Uh-" Sam scoffs, pointing at Zemo. "-He's out of line, but he's right. It's great. Everybody loves Marvin Gaye."

"I like Marvin Gaye," Bucky vows, but somehow it still didn't sound compelling, not you or Sam.

"Steve adored Marvin Gaye," Sam continues, trying to convince Bucky even further. "Did you hear it, Y/N?"

"Are you kidding?" You ask in disbelief, smiling softly at the memory of walking in on Steve once, dancing with his shield to the entire album. "I don't think there was a day I wouldn't hear it. Five out of five stars."

"See?!" Sam rejoices, gesturing his hand to you. "It's a classic!"

"You must have really looked up to Steve," Zemo pipes up, silence falling over the jet. "It seems he carries a special place in all your hearts, but I realized something when I met him. The danger with people like him, America's super-soldiers, is that we put them on pedestals."

"Watch your step, Zemo." Sam gripes, warning the baron to tread lightly, the gleam of your knife hitting his eyes.

"I'd also like to apologize," He adds, eyes flickering to you. "I would like to apologize on behalf of trying to murder you, Y/N." He mumbles, your brows furrowed in scorn, absorbing his words carefully. "And," He adds, holding his finger up. "For almost trading you to Hydra. I know you can't stand me, from the looks of that knife in your grasp," Zemo swallows hard, continuing his rant. "I find it necessary for you to know that you were simply an obstacle in my way. I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" You scoff, pushing yourself up to your feet with caution. "You're sorry." You repeat, almost laughing as if you heard a joke. Your hands smacked against his armrests, your face leaning close to his. Zemo's eyes widen as big as saucers, admiring your sense of valor to look him directly in the eyes. Not very many people could face him. He took note of that, placing you at the top of the list of people he admired.

Bucky goes to stand, a feeling of protectiveness rising to the surface. But, Sam stops him. From the looks of the situation, you could handle yourself.

"Do you have even the slightest idea of what you put me through!?" You growl with gritted teeth, eyes searching the face of the man in your sights. "You are only here for one reason, and that's because of Bucky. Otherwise, I'd have killed you on sight." You confess, taking in a huge gulp of air. "And as much as I hate to admit it," You loosen your grip from the armrests, standing straighter to take a step back.

"We need you, and I'm not saying I forgive you, but just know that if you step one foot out of line..." You tsk, slowly sinking back into your seat, giving him a view of babochka. "I'll slit your throat myself, are we clear?"

Bucky smirks softly, closing his eyes, resting his head against the chair. Maybe he didn't have to worry about you, but that didn't mean he wouldn't. And even if you weren't on speaking terms, you'd always have a place in his 106-year-old heart.

"Crystal," Zemo agrees, nodding with haste, his gloved hands rising in surrender. "I like you, Y/N," He smiles suddenly as if you didn't just threaten his life. "Maybe we could've been friends in another life."

"Maybe," You smile, tipping the end of your knife to him. "Now, tell us where we're going."

"We're going to Madripoor."

"What's up with Madripoor," Sam asks, eyes on Bucky. "You guys talk about it like it's Skull Island."

"It's an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago." Bucky opens his eyes, taking his head off the rest. "It was a pirate sanctuary back in the 1800s."

"It kept its lawless ways but, we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves." Zemo's eyes land directly on Bucky. "James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone."

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