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ozzgin · 5 months

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Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (III)

A whole lot of confusion as to whether Reader and her yakuza friend are actually dating. After much back and forth and a coworker being threatened, the awaited confession might finally take place.

Bonus part: Kazuya tells Reader about his and Daitou's past and how they ended up working for the yakuza.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

TW: Obsessive behavior, violence

Tags: @vinivave @ansy-tea @evvie8 @angelicbunnee @jingerbreadoutofstock @azukoya @randomlyblues @alien-consummation @neverlandlostchild @mimiemie @toji-whore @cloudie-skay @lilkittenmitten

The items are scanned and Kazuya finishes paying. He looks back, searching for Daitou, and finds him wandering among the narrow aisles of magazines and manga. They'd stopped by the konbini at the train station after their job.

"Here's your bentou." The blonde man extends a small box, eyeing his friend suspiciously. "Say, do you have an upset stomach or something? You're uglier than usual."

Daitou thanks him with a nod, but doesn't take the neatly packaged food. He's idly playing with the cover of a romance volume, bending and straightening its corner.

"Nah, nothing like that. Just, ya know, feels a bit like (Y/N)'s been avoiding me. She hurries straight home after work and barely waves hi. I thought we'd do more things together now that we're dating."

Kazuya nearly spits out the soda he opened while listening to Daitou's troubles. He snorts and quickly wipes his mouth.

"Wait, are you serious? You actually asked her out? And she said yes??"

Daitou thinks back to the time he gifted you your stalker's finger and teeth, the way you defended him, and the way you quietly walked home and almost held hands. That pretty much made it official, didn't it? So he confidently nods to his utterly baffled partner in crime.

"You little rascal, you! Who would've thought you had it in you?!" He cheerfully slaps Daitou's back and wraps his arm around his neck. The dark haired man blushes and scratches his cheek awkwardly. "You should've told me earlier!"

True. Between the two of them, Kazuya has always been extremely charismatic and popular with women. His perfectly combed blonde hair, his sparkling designer suits, his luxuriously elegant cologne. The handsome features and assertive smile. More than once he'd been approached by modeling agencies, and he likes to joke his lust for violence stopped him from living the glamorous life. In comparison, Daitou has the opposite effect on people. The room will empty if he steps inside. He's unnervingly tall, with bulging muscles, has multiple scars crossing his face, and his prosthetic eye always ends up twisted in the strangest position, causing him to look like he's only missing the straight jacket. Everyone is shocked upon hearing about their friendship.

So it makes sense that Kazuya would have the required experience to offer him decent advice when it comes to (Y/N).

"Listen here, if there's one thing you should know, it's that women like a guy that fights for them. You gotta show them you care. What can you offer that other guys can't?"

The tall man listens intently, with a concentrated frown as if taking mental notes. He's not entirely sure who he should fight in this ordeal, but he doesn't want to embarrass himself in front of Kazuya, so he nods vehemently to his words.

"That's the short preview. If you have any more questions, just come over later. I'm piss tired, so I'll go home and have the nap of a lifetime." He yawns deeply to showcase his exhaustion and slowly walks away, throwing his hand in a lazy wave.

The yakuza remains standing, still ruminating over the words of wisdom generously offered by the expert himself. Is he to randomly beat up people on the street as you watch? Won't Boss be angry if he attacks civilians? He gasps in realization. Perhaps this is what Kazuya meant. What kind of man is he if he can't even go against his Boss? So what if Boss won't like it? He has to prove himself to you.

With newfound determination, he clenches his fists and gazes out of the window.

That's when he notices you. You seem to be returning from work. Even more - and this causes his jaw to tighten in anger - some unknown man is walking next to you, cheerfully chitchatting and gesturing.

That settles it.

"You really didn't have to walk me home." You laugh clumsily to the man at your side.

A new coworker recently joined your company, and you've been asked to show him the ropes. You gradually discovered you had quite a lot in common, throughout your ample opportunities to gossip and talk leisurely. Your schedule isn't as packed nowadays, given you'll show up earlier and leave later.

Normally you'd prefer to be in your warm bed as soon as possible, but you've been feeling rather tense since the incident with Daitou. During his heated exchange with Kazuya, you've heard mentions of 'being liked by women' and 'having a crush on someone'. You thought it involved you and you nervously awaited further explanations from Daitou himself, but on the way back he was completely silent. You didn't have the courage to bring it up, so you assumed there must've been a misunderstanding somewhere along the way.

Which, after all, would make plenty of sense. What business would a yakuza have with you? He's already shown much more courtesy than it was required of him. Hoping he'd also confess his feelings on top of everything was downright ridiculous and you're embarrassed to admit you'd harbored such cheesy fantasies to begin with.

"Don't sweat it. You might not know", the coworker warns with lowered voice, "but this area is reeking of gangsters. I'm surprised you've been fine so far, but you should be more careful."

"O-oh...I see..." You glance at him and hold back a smirk. You doubt he could protect you from Daitou or Kazuya, but you appreciate his chivalry nonetheless.

There's an uncomfortable pause as you stand in your doorframe, having reached the intended destination. The man hasn't left yet, waiting expectantly. He lowers his head towards yours and you swiftly slam the door, muttering something about an emergency.

"Cute." He thinks to himself as he chuckles and steps away.

There's always a next time.

The coworker heads towards the train station in a relaxed strut. At the first intersection, however, he feels his clothes being pulled and he finds himself abruptly shoved in an empty room by an unknown assailant.

Daitou easily lifts him up by his collar and nonchalantly throws him in a chair. It seems to be a small storage unit, possibly belonging to one of the shops.

"What's your business with (Y/N)?" He barks.

"Huh? I should be the one asking-" The man pauses for a second, going over his conversations with you. "Could it be that you're the stalker she mentioned?"

Naturally, you had left out the part where your stalker was carefully packaged and dumped in a place unknown. To your coworker, he was very much still alive and a potential threat.

The yakuza is taken aback.

"I'm her boyfriend!" He retorts angrily.

"Bullshit. She doesn't have a boyfriend."

Another slap to the face. Daitou's cheeks are becoming increasingly red and he runs his fingers through his hair, attempting to calm down. Why, this son of a...

He marches to one of the metal shelves behind, grabbing his tool belt. Simultaneously, the door opens and Kazuya sheepishly peeks his head in. His blonde locks are ruffled and one can tell he's freshly woken up.

"Yo, I just realized I might've been too metaphorical with you back at the store so I've been texting you, but you didn't-...Wait, why is there a guy handcuffed to the chair?"

He crosses his arms, with a habitual scolding glare towards his friend.

"I just caught this cockroach flirting with (Y/N)! Went all the way to her place!" Daitou whines, his face full of indignation.

"Of course you know where she lives, you fucking stalker." The coworker exclaims bitterly.

"Watch your mouth buddy, he ain't no stalker!" Kazuya straightens his back and approaches the mysterious man. "If he's right, and you've been messing with his woman...We ain't letting that go. Today you learn why no one fucks with the yakuza."

The two men exchange a knowing look.

You drop yourself on the sofa and groan. Tomorrow will certainly be strange. Was the coworker trying to kiss you just now? You'll have to think of a polite way to turn him down next shift. Is it because you're not interested, or because you're still hoping to have a chance with Daitou? You slap your cheeks vigorously, trying to pull yourself out of such thoughts.

You suddenly notice the foreign wallet sticking out of your bag. Your coworker had dropped it earlier today while running for the train, and you offered to throw it in your bag to save time. Except you forgot to return it.

You check your phone. It hasn't been that long, so maybe you can still reach him if you hurry. Without much contemplation, you pluck the wallet and sprint out.

As you dash past the buildings, you have the idea of calling the man and asking him to wait instead. Why run like a madman? You stop and rest a hand against the wall, trying to catch your breath. Ugh, you've been so scattered today. This should've been the obvious choice, instead you sprang out. Silly.

From around the corner you can make out the familiar wails you've learned to ignore. Whoever the yakuza tortures is not your problem. You are about to scurry away, yet something about these whimpers feels odd. No...Could it be?

You tiptoe down the vacant alleyway and try to catch a glimpse inside through the small, dirty window. As a matter of fact, it is your beloved coworker. Kazuya is holding his arm against a table, with the fingers forcefully fanned out, and Daitou has a blade secured over the pinky finger.

You elbow yourself against the door in a theatrical entry.

"What the hell are you guys doing?! That's my coworker!" You yell.

Daitou freezes, and Kazuya instantly releases his grasp. They turn to you, shocked.

"Stay out of it, (Y/N), this is to be settled among men. This bastard insulted your boyfriend, we can't let it slide!" Kazuya regains his composure and defends his cause fervently, pointing to the man that's now sobbing and crying uncontrollably.

"Boyfriend?" You question, mouth agape.

The blonde man stares at you.

"You're...You're dating, aren't you?"

"Since when?" You demand, confused and upset.

Both you and Kazuya turn to Daitou for answers.

"I'm going to ask you one more time. Did you actually ask her out, Daitou? Did you say it out loud?" Kazuya's voice breaks in exasperation.

"W-well, I didn't...I didn't say it, but I thought..." the man's eyes dart between you and his friend. He gulps. "W-we almost held hands, didn't we?"

Overwhelmed with anger, the blonde stomps over to the shelves and kicks one to make his point, loudly bemoaning his friend's lack of social awareness. He can't believe he went along with his nonsense. Him, of all people! He should've anticipated it.

As the coworker weeps and Kazuya continues his foul monologue, you can't help the blush that's now burning across your face. You fidget anxiously next to the tattooed man.

"Y-you thought we were dating?"

"Sorry for not making it clear." Daitou is once again twiddling with his prosthetic eye, dejected. "Is it too late to ask you out now? Because I do like you a lot..."

"Since you put it so nicely...I can't really say no~" Your ears are bright red and you're twirling your hair. Is it truly happening? Are you dreaming? Everything feels snug and fuzzy and the butterflies are swarming your stomach.

You don't have time to enjoy your romantic encounter, as Kazuya is now behind you, clearing his throat.

"Alright, you lovebirds, what about this one here, then?"

You suddenly remember your coworker and an icy cold flashes through your body.

"Oh God, how will I explain this at work? I'll get fired!" You bite your nails in terror. You can already visualize the slip of unemployment. The long lines at the Job Center, you and the homeless. Panic begins to build up.

Until Daitou's large hands rest on your shoulders. He's unexpectedly warm.

"Don't worry about it, (Y/N). I'll have a word with Boss, and we can get you a job here. This way we can spend more time together", he suggests with childish enthusiasm.

You glance up at him, moved by his soothing words.

"I wouldn't want to bother you like that."

"Hey, it's my fault you ended up in this situation. You can leave everything to me." He reassures you proudly.

"That didn't answer my damn question." Kazuya points out, annoyed.

"Can't we just kill him or something? He did call me a stalker, and I'm still upset about that..."

Daitou stretches and sighs in boredom, pondering the options. Once he's decided on the outcome, he shoos you away lovingly. You don't need to see this part.

Bonus: Daitou's backstory

"Oh, right, how did it go with your tickets?"

Kazuya is walking beside you, hands in pockets. Every now and then he removes the cigarette from his mouth to tap away the piling ash.

"Well, I still have both kidneys, but I won't be swimming in cash for the next months at least." You respond, slouching your shoulders dramatically for the effect.

"Flying abroad is always expensive. Unless, I don't know, you book years in advance."

"Yeah. I should've looked earlier, but I wasn't sure about my work schedule. At least I get to see my family and friends for Christmas."

After a few more steps in silence, you glance up at the blonde man. He notices your curious stare and raises his eyebrows, as if encouraging you to speak up.

"What about you? Will you be going home for the holidays?"

He grins at your question and proudly places a hand on his chest.

"This is my home, actually! I was born and raised in this very neighborhood."

"Really? Was it not a yakuza quarter before?" Your eyes widen at his statement.

"It was." Kazuya blows some of his smoke in your direction and you cough lightly. "You know the soapland further down the street?"

You nod.

"Mom used to work there. One of the clients got her pregnant and she found out too late. She had a room upstairs, and I just kind of tagged along. The other girls looked after me, too."

You recall one instance when Kazuya received a phone call about some drunkard causing a ruckus at the brothel, and he shot up without a word, rushed out and returned with bloodied knuckles. At the time, you'd assumed he's a client himself and maybe got attached to one of the girls. Now it makes sense. You're a little embarrassed of your obvious prejudice. If he grew up there, it must be his way of showing gratitude to the workers who loved him despite the circumstances.

"Oh, what about Daitou, then? Is he from the area, too?"

The man frowns and purses his lips thoughtfully. After a moment, his features soften up again and he sighs.

"I suppose you're his girlfriend, after all. It's also not a secret per se..."

Your ears perk up at the strange reaction to your inquiry.

"I mean, it's just a bit of a grim topic. No one knows for sure. Boss found him on the streets years ago, when he was a wee kid."

He presses his thumb and index finger together, emphasizing the small size to you.

"I don't know all the details, just what the Seniors told me - I was a kid myself back then - but it was pretty bad. Had no shoes on, scratches and cuts all over. His left eye was swollen and terribly infected, that's how he lost it, actually. Boss felt sorry for him, so he took him in.

They did try to ask him for parents or relatives, but apparently he wouldn't speak at all. Took him like a year to finally open his mouth. Even now, if you ask him anything about his past, he just pretends he didn't hear you. So maybe don't bring it up to him."

You shake your head along, urging him to continue with more details. Kazuya seems to warm up to the memories and slows down, indulging in the recollection.

"Anyways, one day Boss' car is followed and he gets shot in the shoulder. Some snot-nosed trainees from the rival gang. They hadn't even gotten their pins yet, wanted to impress their older brothers I guess.

Daitou heard about it and went after them. One of our Seniors - he's a tough guy alright, been with the Family for decades - he told me he was sweating like mad when they found him. Daitou was just a teen at the time, but he butchered those guys up so bad they couldn't tell them apart anymore. Even bit a few bullets, and still kept going, like a crazed animal. The adults were freaking out. They didn't expect him to be this strong.

I suspect they were pretty afraid of him, you know? They were probably thinking,��"if one day he has it out for us, we're done for!", so they told Boss they should kick him out. But at this point Daitou was like his own son, so he laughed and said, "What's the matter with ya, he does your dirty work and you wanna get rid of him?! If the boy wants to fight, let him!", and he arranged for Daitou to join the Family officially. I was recruited around the same time.

We didn't get along at first, I mean, they warned me to stay away because he's crazy and also Boss' favorite. He didn't hang out with anyone. He had his own jobs, the mercenary stuff no one else wanted to deal with.

You might not believe it, but back then I was an angry, stubborn asshole. It didn't sit well with me that this guy was out there, doing his own thing. I had a reputation myself, before I dropped out of high school I was pretty much undefeated. I thought I'd see it with my own eyes, this all-powerful jackass even the Seniors avoided."

You smile faintly, trying to imagine a young Kazuya without the expensive, flashy suit and polished appearance.

"So one evening I just walked up to him and told him to join me outside. Didn't even give him a speech, just rammed my fist into his face. This was my signature move, you know, I can't even count how many guys I knocked out with this punch. Straight into the jaw, sends your brain spinning. Whew, and this guy? He didn't even flinch! Just stood there and looked at me like I was dumb. I was pissed off at this point, you can imagine, it felt like he was mocking me. So I yelled we ain't done until one of us gives up.

He understood what I wanted and finally fought me earnestly. Hell, he even knocked some of my teeth out. This one here's an implant. Mad expensive. Anyhow, as much as it hurt my pride, I'd lost fair and square. So I got up, wiped the blood, and asked him to come grab a drink with me. My treat.

You should've seen his face, (Y/N). I think it was the first time I've witnessed him smile. 'Really? Can I? Are you sure?' He was like a stray dog after you've thrown him some leftovers. Kept that dumb grin the whole night. You could've given him a clown hat and people would've paid to see the circus.

That's when I realized this poor bastard probably just wanted a friend. The next day I went to pick him up again and he was beaming like a princess. Heh. Afterwards he started following me around and eventually Boss called me in. I thought I got into trouble or something, even brought a bunch of gauze pads in case I needed to slice off my finger. Turns out he'd heard of us becoming pals, and he asked me to maybe attend Daitou every now and then because he always leaves a mess and everyone's too scared to deal with him. We've been teamed together ever since."

You realize you've been standing in the same spot ever since Kazuya begun talking, completely entranced by his story. He chuckles upon seeing your expression and ruffles your hair.

"Man, I sure rambled a lot. Sorry about that. In any case, that was my piece about Daitou. I'm sure you already know this, but he's not a bad guy. Just has a twisted sense of loyalty. Once he finds someone to serve, he doesn't see anything else.

Hell, I'm his closest friend and I'm convinced he wouldn't hesitate to kill me if it was for Boss."

Upon further consideration, he smiles and winks at you.

"Or for you. Especially you."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #female reader #yandere yakuza #yakuza x reader #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere original character #yandere mafia #mafia x reader #original work #oc x reader #male yandere x reader #x reader #yandere scenarios

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r6shippingdelivery · 2 years

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There’s been a lot of talk about AO3 and censorship lately, due to one of the candidates to the OTW board. And I realised I have very strong Opinions:tm: about censorship and the freedom AO3 stands for.

Censorship is not a solution. It doesn’t work and it’s not even easily agreed upon where the line should be drawn. What some people might deem as immoral or reprehensible is not the same others will consider so. For example, you and me can agree that sexual stories about minors turn our stomach, yet other people would also include LGBT+ content there, even the sfw ones, and others might decide that any sexual content at all is immoral. So, how do we agree about what to ban, when nothing of it is even illegal?

because let’s be honest, it’s all fiction. As in, not real. Things like incest, rape and pedophilia are illegal irl, but not in fiction. Cause they’re not harming anyone. Really. You can find it disgusting, I certainly do, but I also recognize no person, no actual human, is harmed in the making of those stories. Because they’re made up and about made up characters. I won’t seek it out, and if I see someone making that kind of content I will most probably avoid them/block them (without harassing them), but they have the right to create any kind of fiction they want.

It always baffles me how readily understood that is when it comes to murder and violence in fiction. Nobody thinks that someone who writers murder mysteries or procedural shows really wants to go out and kill people. However, as soon as it’s about sex, people are up in arms ready to believe that those make believe scenarios are an indicative of someone’s real desires. Why is that? And since we’re on the topic of double standards: why are people clutching their pearls about fanfic, but literature gets a free pass, more or less? You go into a library and you’ll find lots of books with shocking and distasteful topics, including those that contain pedophilic content (like Lolita, to put a famous example), incest (Game of Thrones, among many others), rape, murder, etc. But they want me to believe that fanfic, the medium with severely impaired social acceptance and magnitudes smaller reach, is the actual problem that will “normalize” those ideas? Nah fam, I smell a moral panic, and people finding fanfic writers easier to bully into submission. Because this is all about controlling what forms of creative expression are deemed acceptable. Fanfic IS a form of art, popular art if you will, but still art. And by virtue of how AO3 is designed, it’s ridiculously easy to never see the kind of stories that you find objectionable.

Tags are a wonderful thing. I can specify what I want and what I don’t want in my story results when searching! Tags are the author being responsible and giving due warning. Especially the “dead dove: do not eat” tag, it lets you know that the content of the story will have questionable content, proceed at your own risk or keep scrolling. Same as the “chose to not use archive warnings” that one is a warning in itself that the story might contain triggering/upsetting content, and it’s the prerogative of each reader to decide whether they’re comfortable continuing reading or not. Ultimately, it’s all about taking responsibility for one’s decisions. People who are in favor of censorship in AO3 either don’t know how to control and curate what materials they access, or feel entitled to everyone else taking their morals into account instead of taking responsibility for their own experience in the archive.

None of the stories on AO3 is illegal. Fictional stories are not illegal, not even those dealing with unsavory topics. The archive makes people agree to continue reading whenever you click on a story with a certain rating (or without any rating at all, just in case!), so the reader is giving their consent to continue reading, they’re making an informed choice. Same as with the tags. They’re there, they’re a warning. If someone reads the tags, finds them displeasing and still continues reading, that’s on them. If I find a story with tags about rape/non-con, for example, I keep scrolling. Cause I know I will find the story displeasing and upsetting. The people clutching their pearls and going “but think of the children!” are, mostly, people who refuse that responsibility and ask the world to accommodate them and their morality. And then throw around words like pedohilia and accusations of “kiddie porn” careleslly, watering down the seriousness of such accusations. No, an explicit fanfic of twin, underage siblings going at it is not CSA. Cause there’s no real children involved in it. It might be disgusting for a lot of people (me included), understandably, but you can 100% avoid reading it and interacting with the people who write those.

Finally, let’s not forget the recent history of fandom spaces, shall we? LiveJournal and Fanfiction.net both had purges of content, after some campaigns for censorship gained traction and popularity. So now everything relating to certain topics is eliminated! Well, except that also includes communities of support for survivors of sexual abuse (it happened in LJ). Well, except that the people pressuring for censorship weren’t happy with the gay smut either, so a lot of LGBT related stuff is now also gone! (happened both in LJ and ff.net). Except, in some countries anything sexual at all, is frowned upon, so why not ban that too? Censorship supporters will always move the goalposts, forever shifting their aim whenever they accomplish something. Because it’s easier and more comfortable to make others conform to their standards than accepting some artistic expressions will be uncomfortable to some people. And trust me, none of them will care if the dark fic in question was written by a survivor of similar experiences trying to cope with their trauma or raise awareness, or if it was done simply for titillation or to safely explore different scenarios in fiction. And the topics that were banned in those websites didn’t disappear at all, they just weren’t properly warned for/detailed in the summaries, so anyone could stumblre upon them by accident. The complete opposite of what happens in AO3.

AO3 was created by people who lived through those censorship events in different fandom spaces, as a response to it. To seeing whole communities and swathes of fan content being unceremoniously deleted overnight. AO3 is an archive and an online library, not a social media platform. It’s a safe haven for anyone to host their fan creations, but that doesn’t mean it’s a safe space as people understand the term in other platforms. In AO3 you make your safe space by using the tags. Because that is the only real way we can have a safe haven for EVERYONE.

The thing about freedom of speech is that sometimes, you have to defend things you dislike (that, I repeat, are legal in this case), because experience has shown time and time again that as soon as you give an inch to the censors, they take more and more. And today they’re up in arms about “pedophilic fanfics”, but once that is done? It might be all nsfw content, it might be trans related content, it might be something else. But it will happen.

#ao3 #fanfiction #fanfic #censorship #freedom of speech #anti anti #okay I'm entering the discourse I'm sorry

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recreationalfanfics · 1 year

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Tengen with a Tamaranean! Reader

Fandoms: DC, Demon Slayer

A/N: YEAH, NO, MY BRAIN HAS BEEN HAVING THOUGHTS. If you don't know what Tamaraneans are; they are an alien race in DC comics that Starfire comes from. Obv a Tamaranean would be too OP in Demon Slayer. ANOTHER GREAT THING ABOUT TAMARANEANS IS THAT POLY RELATIONSHIPS ARE NORMALIZED

Warning: Reader kisses characters out of nowhere (this is because Tamaraneans CAN speak other languages but they have to kiss someone in order to do it)

- NAH, BRO, HE AND HIS WIVES ARE INSTANTLY IN LOVE AND YOU CAN NOT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE.

- THE WAY YOUR HAIR SETS ON FIRE!? AMAZING. THE BEAUTIFUL GLOWING AND CALM AURA AROUND YOU!? IMMACULATE. YOUR STRENGTH AND KIND HEARTED NATURE!? FLASHY.

- He was probably fight a demon and you had just crash landed on Earth and while you had no idea what was going on, you stepped in when you saw the large and ferocious demon looming over him and used one of your star bolts.

- To be honest, I honestly think Tengen wouldn't think too much about aliens (my guy is wearing crystals) probably thought you were a demon at first but then you smiled at him and his brain went blank. Yeah, no, definetly not a demon.

- HIS WIVES CATCH UP, THEY'RE CONFUSED ABOUT WHO YOU ARE but are very fascinated by you. But then when they ask you questions, you can't understand them and you try to signal that to them with your hands but then you sighs and kiss the nearest one.

- That one happened to be Suma and she was shocked and when you pulled away, her face was beat red and she looked like she was about to faint. EVERYONE ELSE WAS BAFFLED BECAUSE THIS HAPPENS IN THE SPAN OF, LIKE, 30 MINUTES.

- "I'm sorry about that, I couldn't understand you before and I could not speak your language. My people overcome that obstacle through lip contact, I hope you understand."

- And they just accept it tbh. You seem very earnest and noble and you did save Tengen's life.

- NO BECAUSE YOU STAYING WITH THEM AND HELPING WITH CHORES. Lifting Hina up when things are too high for her to reach so she doesn't have to deal with smug Tengen, Holding Suma because you're so warm and your arms feel so strong and safe when she gets a bit too hysterical, and Makio getting all flustered when you tell her how beautiful she is when she's angry and she reminded you of a fierce war queen.

- TENGEN LITERALLY THINKS EVERYTHING YOU DO IS FLASHY. The way you can lift up all three of his wives and HIM with ease, the way you fly around with such joy and look so angelic as you do so, and how you try to support his fellow Hashira against demons and is always impressed by your strength in battle.

- BRO, IN ALL FAIRNESS, They were hesitant to confess to you because yeah, you were kinda flirty and free in your own sense due to the nature of your people, but then when they ask about polygamy and stuff and you tell them that it's not uncommon on your planet and that you wish to find your love or lovers, then they all perk up and bring up the idea of you becoming their partner.

- AND OF COURSE YOU ACCEPT. They have been nothing but kind and gracious to you and it didn't hurt that they were all so attractive.

- At night, they all definetly cuddle as close as possible to you because of how warm you are so you often times have to be in the middle (Tengen and/or Suma are the blanket stealers, I know it-)

- Your people are very affectionate so sometimes your lips might heat up during kisses and leave light burn marks on their skin. You apologize as Makio just pouts and gives you the silent treatment, Tengen is just smirking because tbh it's kinda hot to him, and Suma is a flustered mess along with Hinatsuru whose currently helping apply ointment.

- But yeah, no, Tengen would be showing you off all the time and ALSO, THE EGO BOOST HE'D GET WOULD BE INSANE BECAUSE HE'S LIKE: "DO YOU SEE THIS!? I HAVE FOUR WIVES, ONE OF WHICH IS AN ALIEN WHO CAN EFFORTLESSLY KILL DEMONS." to anyone who'd be listening.

#NO I HAVE HAD THIS IN MY HEAD FOREVER #IK IT'S A SUCKY CROSSIVER LET ME BE INDULGENT.#Tengen uzui x reader #hinatsuru x reader #suma x reader #makio x reader #uzui x reader #demon slayer x reader #dc x kny #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #Uzui Tengen x reader #uzui wives

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mouschiwrites · 6 months

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hihi it’s the anon from the one req with the prime empire outfit thing :3 !! i was wondering if you could do something similar but with a reader who wakes up before them and makes them food ?? your writing is so munchable (positively)

Yaay good to have you back!!! I cannot express how joyous it makes me to know that people actually enjoy my silly scrawlings 🥹

Ninjago - Making Breakfast For the Ninjas

Kai

He is NOT a morning person

Definitely the type of guy to say “just five more minutes” like eight times before he finally drags himself out of bed

But when he wakes up to the smell of food…

And you’re not next to him…

He’s more than motivated to get up

He follows the smell into the kitchen, sighing to himself when he sees you at the stove

He approaches from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your neck

“Come back to bed, my sunshine.”

“You don’t want breakfast?”

“…keep cooking.”

He leans on you, half asleep while you finish frying some eggs and bacon

He’s still a little groggy while you eat together, but you can see him waking up the more he eats

You watch him carefully, watching for any signs that might indicate his opinion on your cooking

Polishing off his first plate, Kai blinks the rest of the sleepiness from his eyes

You make eye contact, both smiling softly

Your lips curl into a bigger grin when he asks for seconds

Still, you can’t help but tease:

“What about going back to bed?”

“Nah. I’m up now. Your amazing cooking has worked its magic on me.”

He smirks as you blush, grabbing his plate to get him another serving

Watching you, he can’t help but wonder how he got so lucky

Again, he’s not a morning person, but he’s discovered his new favorite way to wake up

Jay

When Jay wakes up, the first thing he does is check to see if you’re awake

He refuses to get out of bed unless you go with him, and he expects you to do the same

So when he wakes up and you’re not there, he’s a little offended

But then some worry starts to settle in

Did something happen? Surely that must be the case; why else would you break your routine?

Hauling himself out of bed, he hurries around the house, calling your name

He perks up when he hears your response in the kitchen

Dashing in, he stops dead in his tracks when he sees you alive and well, even smiling at him from your station at the stove

You perceive his worried expression, suddenly feeling a little guilty for abandoning him in bed

“Sorry, did I scare you? I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to surprise you with breakfast.”

He sighs in relief, assuring you that he’s just glad you’re okay

He starts rambling about his dream he had, taking a seat at the table while you finished grilling waffles

He doesn’t stop (aside from a quick “thanks”) when you set his plate in front of him

But when he takes his first bite, he freezes mid-sentence

“…is it okay..?”

“Oh my Borg. Y/n. You beautiful savant. This is amazing.”

You smile giddily as he shovels the food down his gullet

When he’s finished, he reclines in his chair satisfactorily

“This absolutely makes up for getting up before me. But next time let me wake up with you, okay?”

Cole

Cole could sleep through a category 5 hurricane

He certainly sounds like one when he snores

So it’s no surprise to him when he wakes up and you’re not there

Actually, that’s what he’s used to

He’ll lumber out of bed and make his way to the bathroom, where he’ll find you getting ready for the day

That’s how you start your day: one a tad later, but always together

When he goes to the bathroom and finds it empty, he’s baffled

He stands there for a solid minute, waiting for the grogginess to leave his head so he can think clearly

Before that happens, he’s enticed by the smell of pancakes

He follows the aroma to the kitchen, where two of his problems are solved

One, he’s found you

Two, you’re making breakfast, so his hunger will soon be satiated

He stands behind you, placing his burly arms and his chin on the top of your head

“What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”

“Pancakes. You want butter and syrup?”

“Mmmm. You know me so well.”

He stays by your side while you cook, trying to keep the drool in his mouth

You make him a high stack of pancakes, which you both know he’ll absolutely destroy

Before he even takes his first bite, he’s already complimenting your cooking

The compliments keep flowing while he eats, bringing a flattered pinkness to your cheeks

When he’s done, he lets out a dreamy sigh, placing his chin on his palm, admiring you

“My partner’s drop-dead gorgeous and the best cook in the world. Wakes me up with pancakes. Pancakes!”

“Only because you deserve it.”

You share a sticky kiss that tastes like maple syrup, which silently prompts you both to go brush your teeth and get ready for the day

Zane

Zane's usually the one to wake up earlier and get breakfast started, so you'll have to be really early if you want to surprise him

He assumes you're just in the bathroom when he doesn't see you in bed, so he shrugs it off and heads to the kitchen

He blinks in shock when he sees you already there, setting the table with omelettes and toast

He hurries over to you, reaching out to take the butter from your hands, but you dodge him

"Nuh-uh, you just sit down."

He reluctantly obeys

While you eat, you can't help but notice his curious glances at you

Eventually he breaks the silence

"Why did you do this?"

"Because I love you. I wanted to treat you."

His gentle smile does little to express how touched he is

You know he's a man of few words, so just having him finish his plate is enough to tell you he liked the meal

You grin proudly to yourself as you gather the dishes

He absolutely insists on helping you clean up, will NOT take no for an answer

While you clean up together, he gives you constructive feedback on your cooking

He figures it'd be more valuable to you than just compliments

And of course it is; he's basically a master chef, and you're getting free advice

Lloyd

For Lloyd, having you by his side when he wakes up is a 50/50 chance

Sometimes he gets up first, sometimes you get up first

So he's not exactly surprised waking up alone

What does catch his attention is the sweet smell of cinnamon in the air

He breathes it in deeply, wondering where it could be coming from at such an early hour

Eventually he gets up to investigate, and to his surprise (and delight) there are fresh-baked cinnamon rolls on the stovetop

And who but his lovely s/o mixing cream cheese icing on the counter?

He leans over the pan of rolls, wafting the smell into his nose

The sound startles you, but you smile when you realize it's only Lloyd

"Good morning."

"Morning. Did you make these?"

"No. A bipedal horse dropped them off."

"Har-har. Well, they smell fantastic, love."

He practically begs you to let him help spread the icing

You later realize that he really just wanted to lick the spoon... and the bowl

You eat the rolls informally as you sit on the counter, not bothering to use plates

Your hands end up stickier than the rolls themselves

Giving up on licking your fingers, you finally decide to go wash up

While getting ready, Lloyd clings close to you, expressing his abundant gratitude

"The rolls were so so so good. Just like you; you're so good to me. I love you."

Apparently your gesture got him feeling all mushy, because you ended up spending the rest of the morning curled up together watching TV on the couch, receiving sporadic kisses on your hands and head

Nya

Nya likes waking up early, but she doesn't like to disturb you

She'll immediately switch to stealth-mode when she wakes up, silently slipping out of bed and into the bathroom

She doesn't even notice that you're not in bed; she's too focused on being quiet

She nearly jumps out of her skin when she walks into the kitchen and opens the fridge, only to hear your voice:

"Hey, I made parfaits—"

"First Spinjitsu Master, Y/n!"

"Pfff—sorry, my flower! I didn't mean to scare you!"

If she wasn't awake before, she certainly was now

You decided to enjoy your yogurt parfaits while watching the sunrise

Spoon in one hand, Nya's hand in the other, you watched the sky grow brighter

Occasionally you would sneak a glance at your girlfriend, smiling to yourself at how beautiful she was, even after barely waking up

Little did you know she was doing the same

You continued to watch even after your parfaits were gone

Just as the sun peeked over the horizon, staining the sky a vibrant orange, you heard Nya say:

"I love you."

"I love you too."

She brought your hand to her mouth, placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles

"The parfait was delicious. Thank you."

"My pleasure. Should we go get ready now?"

"Let's watch the sunrise for a little longer."

Thank you sweet anon for this marvelous request! And thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed! <33

(divider by saradika)

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ofstoriesandstardust · 1 year

Text

maroon (j.h.s.)

a/n: every goddamn piece of this is self-indulgent but as jordan always says, is that not what fanfiction is meant to be? i’d be more than willing to write more for these two but i’m also afraid this is what’s going to get me voted off the top gun island so goodbye i’m going to go hide under a rock until further notice.

pt. ii

summary: (Kazansky!reader) This is the way had always been.

Hangman flirted with anything and everything, bedding a new women every night and leaving them the next morning.

So when he picks up flirting with you, you know he’s just in it for the trouble, a way to get under your Dad’s skin. He’s just in it for the scarlet color of your cheeks every time he calls you “darling”. He’s just after you because you’re young and new, fresh meat for him. You know you’d never let your guard down enough to be wooed by this man, no matter how good it feels to have those sea-glass eyes on you.

And that’s how it goes. Hangman flirting with you every night while you worked, under the watchful eye of his team mates, with nothing more ever coming of it.

Until one night it changes, all because of a cowboy hat.

partially inspired by taylor swift’s “maroon”

main masterlist | top gun: maverick masterlist

warnings: age gap (of 11-ish years? but the specific years aren’t mentioned just that there is an age gap), implied/referenced sex, kissing, a heavy makeout, hickeys, i haven’t made out with anyone in two years, this is the closest to smut you will catch me writing, swearing, alcohol, Icemav but it’s a minor plot point, Maverick never pulled Rooster’s papers but he still went to UVA

word count: 2,885

His eyes track her across the bar, watching the way Bradshaw’s hands clap down on her shoulders, causing her to startle as she carries a crate. Even dressed in a plain black tee and jeans, a brown belt adorning her waist, he can’t help but admire how good she looks.

He watches as she offers Bradshaw a forced smile, causing a frown to tug at the brunette’s lips. Ever the pair, Bradshaw cared for her in a way only a brother could. Bradshaw settles down at the bar as she begins to unload clean glasses into the bar in preparation for what would probably be a busy Saturday night.

It’s futile for him to pretend he doesn’t remember the way she climbed into his lap the night before, straddling him, as he undid her belt in a flurry of passion, in vivid detail.

He knows that hidden beneath the material of her shirt are bruises he left, always wanting to claim and mark what was his.

The bell at the door of the Hard Deck rings, pulling him from remembering the night before any longer as he watches Admiral Kazansky and Captain Mitchell walk through the door.

Sometimes, it baffled him that the two of them were married. Sometimes, he realized there was no one more perfect for them than the other.

He watches the couple settle at the bar, talking with Rooster and the bartender, so clearly fond of both.

“Hey, how come Admiral Kazansky’s so fond of Penny’s bartender?”

The words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them as he leans up against his pool cue. Coyote lets out a half-laugh, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”

He turns to his friend. “What?”

Coyote shakes his head, turning away from him as he moves to take his shot. “Just can’t believe you’re so clueless.”

“What?”

Coyote finally straightens up, looking at him. “She’s his daughter.”

He pales, looking to his friend closely for confirmation he’s not just fucking with him. He kind wishes he was, that Coyote’s hand would clap on his shoulder and say Nah, just kidding man, should’ve seen your face though.

His hands feels sweaty against his pool cue as a growing pit of dread forms in his stomach. Coyote frowns as he remains silent. “What?”

“Oh, I fucked up.” He whispers, mostly to himself as he stumbles back, landing in one of the spare bar stools near them.

Coyote follows, coming closer. “What did you do?”

He lets go of his pool cue, Coyote grabbing it before it clangs to the ground as his hands move to rub over his face. “Oh, I’ve fucked up.”

Coyote takes a half-step closer, nudging his shoulder. He looks up to meet the somewhat suspecting look on his best friend’s face.

“What did you do?”

The first time you meet Jake Seresin, it’s a sunny Wednesday afternoon in May. It’s been eleven days since you graduated college, packing up your whole life and moving back home to San Diego, not that anyone’s counting.

The bell above the door of the Hard Deck jingles as he walks through it, pulling off his shades as his eyes adjust to the the dimmer lighting of the bar. He saunters towards the bar, pulling your attention from where you’re wiping down the bar. He settles on the bar stool in front of you, offering you his trade-mark, award-winning smile (one that you’re sure he’s been told is dazzling).

Penny’s just gone back to the office to grab something and you take a deep breath, looking up at him. He’d be the first customer you served... ever.

“How can I help you?” You ask.

He ignores the question, pulling a toothpick form his pocket and putting it in his mouth. Your eyes flicker down to his lips, a moment he doesn't miss. “Admiring the view?”

You shake your head, clearing any thoughts from you brain. “I assume you came in here for a drink.”

He shrugs, setting an arm on the bar to lean up against it even though he’s sat. “Who knows? Maybe I came in here to talk to the pretty new bartender.”

“The pretty new bartender is off-limits Hangman.” Penny calls from the office.

“And why is that?” He calls back.

She appears in the doorway of the office, causing you to look behind you. “Because she’s 22 and fresh out of college.”

“I’ve always liked them young.” He says, eyes raking over you. “Fresh out of college, you say?”

The bell rings again, pulling your attention to the door. “Don’t even think about it, Bagman.” Bradley calls from the front door, striding towards the two of you.

His eyes don’t leave your body, still looking at you like you’re the best thing he’s seen all day. “Oh, but I am Bradshaw.”

Bradley comes in to view, nudging his shoulder. “Stay away from my little sister Bagman.”

That causes the blonde’s eyes to fly up from where they had settled on your chest, rapidly moving between you and Bradley. “You serious Bradshaw?”

“We’re not related.” You answer, finding your voice as two other (you’re assuming) pilots approach the bar. You distantly recognize them as Bob and Phoenix, friends of Bradley’s from the uranium enrichment plant mission that brought him back to San Diego permanently.

The blonde seems to breathe a sigh of relief, body physically sagging with it.

“We might as well be.” Bradley answers, tossing you a look. “Our Dads are friends.”

You snort. “Sure. Friends.”

You recognize a couple of the other pilots that approach the bar from pictures Brad’s sent you, from the Facebook posts Mav makes. From the phone calls with your Dad, talking about the new group of pilots permanently stationed at North Island. From the stories of the legends who had nearly died together, who had all come home.

Bradley rolls his eyes as his friends join him. “You know what I mean. We go way back.”

“Will I ever be able to get rid of you?” You ask ruefully, shooting him a smile.

Bradley pulls his aviators further down on his nose, giving you a smirk and a wink. “Never, darling. You’re stuck with me.” You shake your head as he pushes his aviators back on to his nose. “How’s your first day going?”

You shrug. “It’s a bar job that my Dad hooked up for me so I don’t sit at home twiddling my thumbs for the foreseeable future while I try to figure out what do to do with my life.”

“Hey, shit could always be worse.” He says, offering you a smile.

Natasha, who’ve you learned to recognize from the years she’s been friends with the person who’s inserted himself into your life from the moment you were born, offers you a small smile. “How was graduation?”

“I’m still mad you wouldn’t let me come.” Bradley mutters.

“Okay top 1% Naval aviator who can just drop everything to come to my graduation.” You say, rolling your eyes. “But it was good. I’m happy to be back in San Diego.” You say, now looking back towards Natasha.

“Well, if you ever need anything, give me a holler.” You nod, smiling at her words.

“I know how you could help me.” Hangman says, eyes never leaving yours once.

Bradley leans over to smack him upside the head. “Don’t even think about it Bagman, I’ll drown your ass in the ocean outside.”

And so that’s how it goes.

Everyday after work, Bradley and company would appear at the Hard Deck. You quickly learned their callsigns and their names and their lives, some of the finest people you knew.

Bob, who offered you a goofy smile and would sit at the bar on slow nights, just to chat.

Coyote, who always tipped well.

Fanboy, who sat and discussed the plot line of the latest Pokemon game for the Nintendo Switch in-depth with you.

Payback, who always cracked a joke that made you laugh no matter what kind of day you were having.

Phoenix, also known as Natasha, (to you, just Nat) who always invited you and Callie and Amelia over for girls nights, who felt more like a big sister than a friend, who fit so seamlessly into your life it was like she’d always been there.

And then there was Bagman. Also known as Hangman. Also known as Jake.

Jake, who reveled in the scarlet of your cheeks every time he complimented you, commenting on how flattering your top made your chest look, or how he admired the way the bar lights reflected in your eyes. Jake, who had no problem picking up women, and yet had set his sights on you.

Jake, who was completely and thoroughly off-limits, no matter how much your heart wanted him.

Wanted the man who gave you a dazzling smile every time he entered the bar, who always asked about your day, who always made sure you got home safe. Your stupid heart wouldn’t catch up with what your brain (and everyone else) already knew. That you couldn’t have Jake and even if you could, he didn't want you. You were someone fun to flirt with because ti was easy to fluster you, easy to get under your skin.

So you resigned yourself to hang to the back, to watch him woo women night after night, watch him sleep with anything that had a pulse. To hear about his conquests the next day when he discussed the marks left on his body, the blush of your cheeks at his graphic description of how he got them.

(One time, he asked you if you’d like to do the same to him. You don’t think you breathed properly for fifteen minutes.)

You resigned yourself to be nothing more than the pretty bartender and it stayed that way as the summer months went by.

“This doesn’t seem like your scene. What’re you doing here?”

You jump, relaxing slightly when you catch sight of Jake, dressed in a nice pair of blue jeans and deep emerald green shirt that compliments his eyes. His outfit is completed by the cowboy hat on top of his head, prompting you to giggle and raise an eyebrow. “A cowboy hat? Really?”

He narrows his eyes, bottom lip jutting out as his fingers pass over the rim. “I happen to like it quite a bit. It makes me feel like home. And it is cowboy night after all.” He steps into your space. “But you didn’t answer my question, sweetheart.”

“I could ask you the same thing, Bagman.” You say, although the close proximity of his body to yours is making it hard for you to breath properly.

He shrugs, backing away and falling back to a couch shoved into the corner of the bar. It gives him the perfect view of the bar, even if it’s dimly lit enough for it to make it difficult to see who’s back here. He pats the spot next to him expectantly, as if you joining him is the most natural thing in the world. You sigh, taking the seat next to him as you watch the dancing out on the floor.

“One of my neighbors heard about this and invited me. My Dad has been trying to get me out of the house for anything besides work so here I am.”

He nods, eyes skimming over the crowd. “And your neighbor? Where is she?”

You hum, eyes searching the crowd for the girl. “She’s been dying to meet a cowboy, so maybe I should introduce the two of you- hey, there she is!” You point the girl out. She’s cozied up to another man, also wearing a cowboy hat.

“She’s not my type.” He says, taking a sip of his drink.

You splutter, bringing your gaze back to him. “Not your type? She’s gorgeous.”

He shrugs. “Sure, but that doesn’t mean I’m attracted to her.”

“So then what is your type?” He says nothing, simply bringing his gaze to yours, looking you over once before returning to his gaze to the dance floor. He takes another sip of his drink and you can’t help but watch the way he licks his lips.

“She’s not a very good friend if she’s leaving you alone for any man to swoop in.”

“Oh, like you?” You ask, the words tumbling out of you before you can stop them. You feel your cheeks warm as he returns his piercing gaze to you.

“Perhaps.” He says with a nonchalant shrug, eyes moving over the maroon top on. The one your neighbor had encouraged you to wear because it quote, showed you off in all the right ways. You duck your head, cheeks blooming in an even redder color.

He reaches out, picking you up to set you in his lap, causing you to yelp at the movement. “You gotta warn a girl before you start manhandling them, Seresin.”

“Manhandling?” He asks through a chuckle, raising an eyebrow. “You call that manhandling, sweetheart?”

You huff, your cheeks still warm. Still, your arms fall to sit behind his head, hands coming to cup his neck. One of your hands reaches up, knocking his cowboy hat. “And what is it with this?”

He adjusts it back in to place, frowning. “You don’t like?”

You shrug, unable to look away from his emerald eyes. “Never said I didn’t. What if I wanted to wear the cowboy hat?”

He smirks. “You know the rule, sweetheart.”

You snort. “The rule?”

His smirks grows wider, making a coil tighten in your stomach. “Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.”

Your ears begin to ring as your heart seems to stop in your chest as his words.

You duck your head, cheeks feeling a firetruck red as you take in the implication of his words. He lets you look away for a minute before one of his hands leaves the back of your thigh, reaching up to grab your chin, gently guiding your gaze back to his.

“I mean, only if you want to.”

You’re sure if your brain was an image it would the spinning wheel of your computer restarting as your tongue suddenly goes dry, unsure of what to say.

“I don’t get it.”

He furrows his eyebrows, letting his hand drop from your chin. “What do you mean?”

“I mean- Well, you’ve never shown interest in me before.”

“Yes, I have.” He splutters, eyebrows drawing together even more. “I flirt with you like, all of the time.”

You roll your eyes as his hands moves up to the back of your neck, gently moving your hair to one side. He reaches up to softly adjust your necklace that must have shifted out of place when he’d unceremoniously plopped you in his lap. “You flirt with everything Bagman.”

He leans closer, hovering over your lips. “Not like I flirt with you, sweetheart. And please, I wish you’d just call me Jake.”

You swallow, unable to look away from his piercing eyes. “Okay, Jake.” His hands have fallen back to your waist and he’s made no move to pull back.

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” He whispers, eyes flickering down to your lips.

You blink in surprise. “Hardly anything, why?”

“Because I only want to do this if you want this. And I want you to want this while sober.” You can only bring yourself to nod, words suddenly leaving you. Still, it’s not enough for Jake as he murmurs, “Need to hear you say it sweetheart.”

“I want this.”

It’s all the confirmation Jake needs as he surges forward, connecting his lips to yours. The kiss is strong, stealing any remnants of breath from your chest as both of his hands slip down past your waist to rest on your ass. His grip against you is strong, pulling you farther into him as your hands have nowhere to go back to tug at his hair.

He gently tugs at your bottom lip, cautiously ask for permission. You grant it to him, his tongue heavy against your own. His hands glide over your ass as your own find purchase in his hair, tugging at the strands.

He breaks the kiss, one of his hands sliding up your body to rest on the back of your neck. His touch leaves you feeling warm all over as you pant, struggling to catch your breath as his lips fall to the crook of your neck, pressing gentle yet hungry kisses to the bare skin.

Your eyes flutter close when he finds that spot, teeth digging into your skin. “Jake, you-” You swallow, mouth too dry to speak. “You’re gonna leave a mark.”

“Good.” He mutters into the skin before continuing his work, leaving a bruise you know is gonna be a bitch to deal with in the morning. “Wanna leave a mark to match the color of your cheeks.”

He finally pulls away after taking his sweet time to mark up your neck. “That was hot.” You mutter under his watchful gaze, head still spinning with the way the night is turning out.

“We should get out of here.” He whispers.

“Before you get dishonorably discharged for public indecency?”

His smirk is back as he grips your thighs, leaning in closer. “That’s exactly why sweetheart.”

#jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin fic #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fic #top gun: maverick #top gun: maverick fic

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raineandsky · 5 months

Text

#78

(part 1) (part 2)

tw: blood

The first thing the hero notices when they wake up is the agonising flare of pain in their side. It needles at their breaths, burning like there’s a naked flame jammed under their skin. Fucking hell, it can barely wait until they’re conscious.

Something of a pained whine pulls out from their throat before they can stop it. A hand drifts testily to their side to try and assess the damage–what caused it? How bad is it? Can they get back to the agency?—but a gentle hand over theirs stops them.

“Don’t touch it,” someone says, their voice luxuriously soft. “You don’t want to make it worse.”

The hero bursts upright—or tries to. The pain is excruciating before they’re even halfway up. Their breath falls out in agonised tatters, their hand instinctively clamped over the burn like it’ll help. The person next to them just sighs defeatedly.

The hero finally lets their gaze fall on the other person here. A tight black shirt, a mess of untidy hair on his head and the shadow of a beard scratching at his face. Sweet, deep brown eyes, watching, the ghost of a kind smile on his lips.

They’ve seen this man before. In the background, waiting in the shadows of the villain’s brash schemes. A small piece of something always bigger than him. Of everyone the hero has ever expected to look out for them in a moment like this, the person they expected the least was the villain’s henchman.

“I’ll need to change the bandage soon,” the henchman says casually. “I was kinda betting on you staying asleep until I’d done it.”

The hero can only stare at them for a moment, bewildered, before they turn their eyes down to the blood tearing across the bandage on their midriff. The bandage itself is huge, the crimson carving a near-perfect straight line through its centre. It does look three seconds away from giving the hero a nasty infection.

They turn their attention back up as the henchman goes about unravelling a roll of bandage, a pleasant, humming tune leaking from his mouth. Baffled doesn’t come close to the emotion wringing knots in the hero’s chest.

“You were there,” is all the hero can think to say. The henchman nods, the movement almost thoughtless.

“I was.” The bandage is cut with a swift flick of scissors. “[Villain]’s been developing some new weapons. Never seen you go down so hard, jeez.”

The hero watches as the henchman tips some labelless bottle over the fabric. “And now you’re…” The hero trails off, taking in the homely room around them for a clue. “… looking for ransom?”

Something of an unintentional snort bubbles out of the henchman. “Nah. I’m kinda… going against [Villain] by doing this.”

He shuffles his chair forwards to examine the well of blood on the hero’s side. It’s oddly intimate, being stared at this closely. He reaches a hand out to brush a hand against the bandage and the hero flinches in memory of the pain they already caused themself by waking up, but the henchman’s touch is delicate. His fingers leave trails of comfortable warmth in their wake.

“I’ve seen how you work. What you do,” he continues into the silence. His voice is low, like he’s admitting a secret. “It’s admirable. It’s why I felt inclined to help you.”

“And you’re saying this when you’re working with villains?”

Another short laugh springs out of the henchman’s mouth. “I know. I still stand by them—don’t arrest me for saying that—but… I don’t know. There’s something about you.”

“Maybe it’s my irresistible charm,” the hero suggests with exactly zero charm, and the henchman throws them a lopsided grin before ducking his head back down to his work.

Replacing the bandage is easy enough. The henchman’s touch is soft, flinching back at the smallest sign of pain. The pain is barely tolerable anyway, obviously—god, it fucking sucks—but… it’s nice. Being allowed to be in pain, and being allowed to rest when it hurts. Getting injured and not being expected to get back up. Having someone strive to make it hurt less.

The new bandage is cool against the burning agony in the hero’s side, and they sigh contentedly as the henchman carefully presses it against them. “You’ll need to stay a few days,” the henchman says with something of an apologetic grimace. “I don’t know what the rules are for your agency, but you can’t walk through the city like this looking like that.”

The hero glances down at the tatters of their hero’s uniform. If civilians in the city saw them like this, they might panic, might assume the worst, and then…

“Do you have any spare clothes?” they ask hopefully, and the henchman’s remorse slips into exasperation.

“I think you only heard half of that sentence.” He scrunches the old bandage up in his hands, like it’s nothing more than a paper ball he’s going to throw at his teacher. “You look terrible because you are terrible. You need some time to rest.”

“I’m fine.”

“Is the agency going to give you time to heal?”

The hero opens their mouth to retort—of course they will, they look out for us—but they close it immediately. They know that’s not true. The agency would barely let them in the front doors before turning them back out on a mission, bloodstains and all.

They haven’t said a word, but the henchman’s face breaks into an annoyingly smug smirk regardless. “Stay,” he demands as he gets to his feet, “for your own sake.”

He lets himself out with the promise that he’ll be back to change the bandages in a couple of hours. Make yourself at home, but only in bed, because the more you stand up the longer it’ll take to heal and the longer I’ll force you to stay here.

The hero adjusts against the pillows, hissing slightly at the twinge the movement jabs into their side. They don’t mind, honestly. They’re not entirely sure the henchman would have to force them to stay at all.

(next part)

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #heroes and villains #hero x henchman

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hp-hcs · 6 months

Note

Hello.

I really like the way you wrote gay Mattheo. Could I request another fic from this "series"? Thanks in advance 😘

(Fine, I’ll do it my damn self: part 7 of my silly lil mlm stories <3)

ENGLISH AIN’T ALWAYS ENGLISH (Chapter Three of Gay Awakening) — british! mattheo riddle x male! american! reader

basically the pair realize their cultural differences

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Here,” you grin, plonking down on the couch next to Mattheo and holding out a cut-out paper turkey shaped like a handprint. “I’m thankful for you this year.”

He took the paper with a baffled expression on his face. “…what?”

“I’m thankful for y- oh. Right. England. Sorry, American holiday, I forgot.”

Mattheo blinked. “You have a holiday where you give each other paper fowl?”

“No. Well, yes, but- y’know, it’s complicated.”

“I see,” he said slowly, in a way that suggested that he did not, in fact, see. “Is it like your… Freedom Day? America Day? Er… what’s it called again?”

“Independence Day. And not really. Sort of. It’s complicated.”

“Well, then what does this holiday celebrate?” Mattheo asked, somewhat amused as he shook the paper turkey to emphasize his point.

You hesitate. “Well…”

“It’s not good, is it?”

“Nope.”

“Ah. Why the turkey?”

“Americans make abhorrent amounts of food for Thanksgiving. Turkey is the main dish, usually.”

“Thanksgi- oh, is that why you said you’re thankful for me?” He looked quite pleased with himself for deducing that.

“Yeah,” you laugh. “It’s a pretty odd cultural event, I guess. We eat a shit ton, watch football, have to see our homophobic relatives; it really is a wonderful holiday.”

“Football? Like the… muggle sport? Where you can’t use your hands at all?”

“Oh, no. I’m talking American football; where they only use their hands. And like, tackle each other and shit.”

“…right. Anyways, back to the turkey day. When is it? Is it today?”

“Nah, it’s in a couple weeks. It’s the fourth Thursday of every November.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

~~~

“Y/N, could you hand me a rubber?”

Mattheo looked up at you after he didn’t hear a response. You were sitting there, dumbfounded, mouth hanging open slightly.

“…Y/N?”

“Jesus Christ, ‘theo, that’s one way to be forward.”

“…what?”

Your face was burning in embarrassment as you fumbled for words. “Please tell me that means something else in snobby Brit.”

“What, rubber?”

“Yes!”

“A… a rubber. You know, to remove errors?” He gave you a baffled look.

You paused. “…I mean you’re not wrong.”

“No, I’m not…?” He trailed off before shaking his head and laughing. “Oh, Salazar. Tell me what it means in American.”

“A rubber is a condom.”

“Oh!”

Mattheo looked startled, a pink flush rising in his cheeks. “A rubber- it erases, Y/N. Pencil lead.”

“Then why wouldn’t you just call it an eraser?!”

You’re both silent for a moment, with matching blushes, before you both crack up.

“Oh, god, you don’t wanna mix those up, huh?” You get out between laughs.

~~~

“Hey, ‘theo, you oughta read this A&E article. It’s hilarious.”

“Hilarious feels like an odd term to use, Y/N,” he says, looking puzzled.

“American,” you say reflexively, after months of these vernacular conflicts. “Stands for Arts & Entertainment.”

“Ah,” Mattheo nods, used to your immediate explanation. “Accident & Emergency.”

You both snicker.

~~~

“Oh, man. Looks like Enz and Nott went on a bender,” you snicker.

Mattheo raises an eyebrow wordlessly.

“Got absolutely shitcanned.”

“Gotcha.”

~~~

“What the hell is an aubergine?”

“A vegetable. Purple?”

“An eggplant?”

“Americans really suck at naming things.”

“Like you’re one to talk, Mr. Pants-Aren’t-Actually-Pants-In-British.”

“You’re still mad about that? Well, I’m still disappointed from when you made me ‘biscuits’.”

“Oh, shush.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

had a very awkward conversation today with a british friend and we had that eraser/rubber mixup ourselves 💀

thank you for requesting, you a real one homie <3

#harry potter #hp #fuck jkr #hp x male reader #x male reader #these bitches gay good for them #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x male reader #mattheo riddle

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reidsweetener · 1 year

Note

my goodness u made me think abt bimbo reader.. like 😭. and kind of expanding on the serial murderer at her college (??) let’s say he’s like one of the extremely skilled ones gets away and can cover himself up. so ofc spencer is like “nah uh u can’t stay at the college” so he invites her to his home (for the first time btw) so she can stay there and when she goes in his room she’s baffled like … it’s so dull so she glams it up and usually spencer would be like “wtf??” but he’s her and he’s madly in love he doesn’t think twice and he actually keeps a few things once they find the killer. **i hope this makes sense**

NO BECAUSE IF THE KILLER DOES NOT GET CAUGHT, SPENCER WOULD LITERALLY NEVER LET HER OUT OF HIS SIGHT!! 🥺😭😭 HE WILL GLUE HER TO HIS HIP,,, KNOWING HER TENDENCY TO GET DISTRACTED!!

No doubt, he's always going to be in a constant state of anxiety every single waking moment that the killer is on the loose!! so he literally arranges for u to take school remotely (ur his smol airheaded bb so no need to ask u!!🥺🥺💖💖)

Ur kept in his nice cushy apartment, but ofc you have to make his whole place shimmer! plain curtains? no sir, it's going to be floral and pastel! books for decoration? no!! you're going to get pretty flowers and porcelain figurines. And ofcourse, you don't leave anywhere with your gang of little friends, aka stuff toys, so he's cuddled with you and your children. ((You make them call him daddy✨✨))

You made his whole room so girly and pink, he's afraid if the others find out, he's going to be the butt of the joke— but can he actually resist your fluttering eyes and plush pout? he's a goner with just a well timed kiss on his stubble and pretty face!!

he keeps some of your toys and a quarter of your wardrobe with him✨✨💖💖(and maybe your underwear.. ☁️☁️☁️))

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x bimbo!reader #spencer reid x bimbo reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid

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gravitycavity · 2 months

Text

youtube

[Preview] Sunshine - Chapter 5

Hey guys! Thank you for your patience while I write chapter 5. This chapter might take longer than usual, so I wanted to give you all a longer-than-usual preview to make up for it. I hope you enjoy it!

For context, Pomni and Ragatha are in a ballroom inside of the haunted mansion. They're locked inside and looking for a key to escape, but aren't having very much luck. Having tried everything, they decide to take a break.

Also Ragatha is sitting in a chair. Pomni found her a comfy one :)

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

The long, dusty boxes that Pomni had already sifted through still laid in a messy pile beside the antique chest. Pomni never was very good at putting things back where she found them.

Sighing, she opened the nearest one and cautiously unfurled the bulky scroll stored inside. A series of small, perfectly-cut holes stretched across the yellowed paper. Some existed in isolation, while others were grouped together into long lines — as if a leaf-munching insect had eaten its way through the fragile material.

Pomni’s tonge prodded the inside of her cheek. “Ragatha? You said you played the…” her gaze flicked aside, “...violin, right?”

“Violoncello.” Ragatha deadpanned. “Why?”

“Well, I was just wondering — since you’re a musician, do you have any clue what these weird rolls of paper are for? They seem related to the piano somehow, but…”

“I thought you would never ask!” Ragatha gasped, clasping her hands together. “Those funky bundles of paper are called piano rolls!”

The redhead had responded to Pomni’s question in plain English, but the baffled look on the jester’s face suggested otherwise.

Ragatha continued. “Back in the day, these were used to play piano tunes without the need for a human performer. Each one plays a different song when loaded into a player piano.”

“Player piano…?”

“Oh, right. Sorry!” Ragatha shuffled her feet, “That’s a special type of piano that plays itself. I’m not quite sure how it works either. But back to the topic at hand — see those little holes cut into the paper? Each one represents one music note. As the roll slowly unfurls, a sensor reads them and tells the machine which keys to strike.”

“Ohh…” Pomni ran her fingers across the parade of perforations that spanned the scroll. Slowly, she nodded. “...So it’s like a music box?”

“Now you’re getting it!” Ragatha beamed. The look on her face as she watched the concept click in Pomnis’ head was a painting of pure joy; was it any wonder that she had worked as a teacher prior to her captivity?

Pomni sighed. She planted an elbow on the old chest and cradled her cheek against her palm. “Your students must have loved you...”

“Well, I did receive my fair share of apples.” Ragatha shrugged. “Never had to pack a lunch.”

“Wait, seriously…? That’s a real thing?”

“No. Not really.”

A silly smile teased its way onto Pomni’s lips. Heart stumbling, she turned away, fingers unconsciously fiddling with the old chest’s loosened lock. “S-So, um, is there anything else you can tell me…?”

“Nah — telling is overrated. In my classroom, I always liked to take a hands-on approach.” Ragatha said. She admired the antique instrument seated on the far end of the stage. “There’s a player piano right there. Why don’t you give it a whirl, Sunshine?”

Pomni felt her whole body melting, all the way down to her soul. Sunshine. She was putty in the ragdoll’s hands.

“S-Sure thing! I’ll find a good one!” Just about tearing the lid off of the antique chest, she rifled through its tightly-packed contents with purpose, scrutinizing the faded titles printed on each box. She didn’t recognize a single song, much less any of their long-dead composers, so it was anyone's guess as to what the music would actually sound like. She may as well have just swiped a roll at random — and, as a matter of fact, that’s exactly what she did.

Pomni set the bulky scroll inside the automatic piano after a bit of clumsy fumbling — and more than a little help from Ragatha. With the flip of a switch, the paper started spinning, and the premier notes of a lofty, leisurely tune stirred to life beneath the ballroom’s vaulted ceiling.

Pomni’s fingers drew circles on the mechanical piano’s smooth, wood grain exterior. For a moment, she forgot where she was, utterly fascinated by the simple elegance of the century-old contraption.

It was funny. The long-forgotten piece it played, humbly subtitled ‘a ragtime two-step’, had set her up to expect something more peppy and up-tempo. As the piano roll steadily unfurled, however, the melodic constellations impressed upon the paper sang a far different tune.

It was the type of jaunty music one would expect to accompany a silent film, just…polished. Refined. All of the musical tropes of the era were present — the driving bassline, the active, syncopated melody — but the piece’s dignified pace and finely-crafted harmonies would have sounded out of place in a rowdy saloon.

Here in the ballroom, though, the old-fashioned tune was right at home — at least, that’s what the haunted furniture seemed to think.

Looking impressed, Pomni tapped her foot, wholly oblivious to the perplexing scene unfolding behind her. “Hm. Not bad.” She remarked, turning to face Ragatha, “To tell you the truth, I actually kind of ohmygodwhat’sgoingon—”

Pomni stumbled backwards, then forwards, then backwards again into Ragatha’s chair. The ballroom’s inanimate denizens — the one-hundred-odd tables and chairs scattered across its marble floor — moved all on their own, dancing in time with the mellow melody. A backing band of squeaking wood and clinking plates added a percussive flair to the player piano’s charming, just-slightly-detuned sound.

Ragatha, for her part, was busy cracking up at Pomni’s complete and utter bewilderment. With a quick breath, she managed to compose herself. “Well, when in Rome…” The ghost of a giggle still lingered in her tone as she offered up her hand to the crumpled heap of a woman at her feet, “Shall we?”

Pomni let out a mousy squeak. “H-Huh?” She flinched, head feeling light, dots flitting across her vision, “But—”

“Come on. Don’t make me beg.” Ragatha batted her eyes, “It’s unladylike.”

Pomni blushed. She couldn’t argue with that. Without a word, she swallowed, shuddering like a frightened animal as she reached for Ragatha’s pretty hand.

Her fingers curled snugly around the ragdoll’s plush, doughy hand. Both women’s palms — one big, one small — fit together perfectly.

Pomni slid her other arm behind Ragatha’s back, powerless to stop the little whimpers sneaking out of her as she lifted the lightweight woman into her arms. For a moment, their faces were close enough to feel each other’s warmth — and it took every ounce of restraint Pomni had to resist asking: ‘Can I please kiss you?’.

With a brief, peppy fanfare, the music transitioned to a new section; the enchanted furniture, as if controlled by a single mind, adapted its routine in perfect sync.

“I, um…” Pomni’s heart sank at the sight. This stupid furniture was making her look bad. “I don’t really know how to dance…” She winced the thought, and then at the sight of Ragatha’s grave injuries, “And even if I did, how are we supposed to—”

“Shh.” Ragatha’s thumb glided across the back of Pomni’s hand. “Just…hold me. Please.”

Pomni exhaled.

Holding her dolly close, the jester closed her eyes, synchronizing her trembling breaths with every other downbeat. Her foot matched the two-step’s gentle pulse, and before she knew it, her whole body was swaying to the rhythm.

Ragatha nestled her head against Pomni’s chest; a blissful sigh escaped her shuddering smile. The tension in her body dissipated note-by-note, phrase-by-phrase, as her darling rocked her back and forth, here and there, to and fro.

#pomni x ragatha #ragatha x pomni #ragapom #buttonblossom #jesterdoll #pomnitha #the amazing digital circus #tadc fanfiction #tadc sunshine

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callofdudes · 3 months

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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. ❤

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