amel1ee - Tumblr blog

amel1ee · 9 days ago

Note

Pl Please and thank you, if not please ignore this. A request for Hiccup x reader, it can be placed in the first movie when there is the training against dragons, specifically the scene of Astrid scolding Hiccup with that dialogue "....our parents' fight will become ours" and reader defends him, reader (she does not understand dragons but she respects them and is interested in them but only she knows that), and defends Hiccup verbally to Astrid, just a small discussion, from then on Hiccup is interested in reader because she defended him and because reader is not afraid of dragons in the training, which is strange because she never attacks him directly but it is like driving away a beast and generates interest in him.

THE GUARDIAN ANGEL

pairings « hiccup haddock x f! reader »

✎ When you quietly hold your ground during dragon training—never striking first, only observing—Hiccup takes notice. You're the only one who treats dragons with a strange, distance, and when you defend him during a heated clash with Astrid, he starts to wonder if he’s not as alone in his thinking as he thought.

【warnings; none】

Ash clung to the air, dense as flour, stirred by each step across the rugged ground. A fine coat of soot blanketed the arena like dust on forgotten parchment, and the scent—smoke, scorched rope, and something faintly sulfuric—settled stubbornly in your clothes. The roof above, a precarious structure of chains and stone designed with a singular purpose: to imprison dragons, and prevent their flight, groaned and clanged against one another as the deep wind swept through the cavernous space.

Gobber’s voice bellowed through the dusted air: “Today, we teach you how to not die! Keep your limbs, keep your pride, and maybe—maybe—you’ll live to see dinner!”

You tightened your grasp on the leather strap of your borrowed shield with rigid edges. It smelled like someone else's sweat and fire—ripe, acrid, and unmistakably used. Have you not any shame, oh, how you wished you could pinch your nose without looking like a complete amateur. After Gobber’s ‘I believe in learning the job’ you’d completely lost hope in finishing the academy training with the Deadly Nadder tailing your butts to destroy you with its spontaneous bursts of poisonous spines wherever it could fly. At least he had the time to explain that shields matter more than a sword.

“hey–Hey, you know I just happened to notice the book had nothing to do with night furies.” You hear a cranky voice just a wall behind you, assuming it was Hiccup, likely addressing Gobber. A Before you could react, a sudden burst of fire struck the wall—a Nadder’s blast—searing through the wooden wall and lighting up the space. The impact revealed your silhouette, exposed and clearly visible through the scorched gap.

“Today, it’s all about attack! Now get ye’ lots and butts movin’.”

You took off running, swatting at the small flames that clung to your clothes. Heat nipped at your sleeves as you pushed forward, doing everything you could to stay ahead of the Nadder. Sharp talons scraped against the wood behind you, and you heard the distinct whir of spines being fired. You ducked instinctively, heart pounding.

“Nadders are quick and light on their feet.” Gobber peeked from above. “Your job is to be quicker and lighter”

Easier said than done.

Turning a corner too fast, —only to slam into Fishlegs with full force. The impact sent both of you staggering, arms pinwheeling for balance, but managed to regain balance just in time. You managed to stay in your feet, just as a cluster of razor-sharp Nadder spikes thudded into your shield with a metallic crack. Others peppered the ground where you had stood seconds ago.

You would’ve been at peace if Gobber hadn’t insisted on training you, calling you a “wee lamb” that needed to transform into a “goat.” You’d been sleeping soundly, deep in the comfort of your blankets, your body relaxed and still. The world outside had faded away, the early morning stillness wrapping around you like a warm, quiet cocoon. Then, next thing you know your legs were up and high, snatched by his prosthetic hook.

“I’m really beginning to start questioning your teaching methods.” “So do I!”

You sprinted ahead, putting more distance between yourself and Fishlegs, hoping to draw the Nadder's attention elsewhere. The dragon’s growls echoed in your ears, but you kept your focus on the creature's movements, looking for any sign of weakness, any gap in its defense. You had to figure out its blind spot.

Ahead, you spotted Astrid and Snotlout, their bodies low to the ground sneaking away from the spined dragon. They were working their way around the Nadder, trying to avoid being noticed. Just as you were about to make your move, Hiccup arrived, his figure appearing in the distance.

Astrid glanced over at him, quickly waving for him to crouch. “Get down,” she murmured, the command almost sounding like a scold. Hiccup, however, was still going on about the Night Fury, oblivious to the urgency around him. Astrid peeked her head over the edge, her eyes scanning the Nadder’s movements, watching for any sign that it had walked away from their direction. Once the coast was clear, Astrid moved quickly, rolling her body to the other wall alongside Snotlout and you.

Behind you, Hiccup tried to follow suit, but he wasn’t as quick. As he rolled, the weight of his shield caught the ground, sending a sharp scrape through the air that made everyone flinch. His eyes widened in mild panic as he scrambled to regain his balance.

The sound didn’t go unnoticed. The Nadder, its eyes scanning the area, whipped its head toward the noise, its focus shifting immediately from you to the others. In an instant, it let out a ferocious screech and surged upward.

“Don’t worry, babe, I got this.” Snotlout’s voice was as confident as ever, though you couldn’t quite tell if he was talking to you or Astrid––not that it made a difference. His grin was wide, almost too wide, as he swung his mace, aiming for the Nadder with all the flair of a showman.

But the moment the mace left his hand, it veered off course, flying wide and completely missing the dragon. It sailed past the dragon’s side. Way past. The Nadder didn’t even flinch as it soared past, instead charging straight toward them, its eyes locked on the three of you.

You turned to him, unimpressed, giving him a long, deadpan stare. “Really?”

He blinked, then raised a hand as if that explained everything. “The sun was in my eyes, [Name].” Before you could even reply, the Nadder reared back and spewed a burst of fire. “What do you want me to do? Block out the sun? I could do that, but I don’t have time right now.”

Hiccup stood in place, still distracted, flipping through the pages of the dragon manual and pointing out something to Gobber. “They probably took the daytime off, right? Like a cat—’”

“Hiccup!” you barked, but he didn’t take notice. The Nadder roared and charged again, this time lunging straight for Astrid.

“Hiccup!” Gobber called out

“Hiccup!” Astrid shouted too, her voice laced with both panic and fury. She sprinted across the shaky remains of the training structure, the Nadder crashing after her, claws tearing into the wood as it climbed with terrifying speed. You watched from below, tense, trying to find an opening to help—but everything was collapsing too fast.

“Look out!” you yelled.

She lost balance and fell—straight onto Hiccup, knocking them both to the ground with a heavy thud. The air left his lungs in a wheeze, but the worst of it wasn’t the impact—it was the sharp clang that followed. Astrid’s axe, still tightly gripped in her hand during the fall, drove straight into the rim of Hiccup’s shield. The metal bit into the wooden frame and lodged itself deep, the two now stuck together awkwardly.

“Ooh, love on the battlefield,” Tuffnut snickered, elbowing his sister as he peeked over the edge of a half-crushed platform.

“She could do better.”

You wanted to help, but the Nadder was almost free from the stacked pile of wood, its claws scraping against the debris as it struggled to get out. Every second counted.

"Let—let me... why don’t you—?" Hiccup stammered, trying to talk to Astrid, taking off her hand from squishing his face. He was still holding onto his shield, clearly trying to make sense of the chaos, but Astrid wasn't having it. She leaped forward, eyes locked on the Nadder, now fully freed from the pile of wreckage. Panic surged through her, and she pushed her foot onto Hiccup’s face with an unceremonious shove, yanking the axe from his shield with a sharp jerk.

Before Hiccup could react, Astrid was already swinging the axe, driving it into the Nadder’s advancing form. The force of the blow knocked the dragon back, sending it reeling. The sheer power in her movement was enough to force the Nadder to hesitate, if only for a moment, as it tried to regain its footing.

Ignoring your weapon, you threw it aside, the clatter barely registering as you focused entirely on the dragon. You rushed forward at the same time, your own fists raised, staying close to Astrid as the Nadder snarled, its fiery eyes narrowing. The tension in the air was palpable, the ground would be shaking with each step the dragon took if it didn’t have light feet.

You stepped forward, standing firm in the Nadder's path, trying to get its attention. No weapons. Just your instincts. You weren't going to fight this dragon with blades; you had to be smarter.

"Hey, hey!" you called, voice steady despite the adrenaline flooding your system. The Nadder’s head swung toward you, its eyes narrowing.

The dragon was close now, its massive, scaly head turning toward you, its nostrils flaring as it caught your scent. You raised your arms, palms open, trying to appear larger, more intimidating. You shouted, not out of fear, but to be heard above the mess.

“Get away from them!”

The Nadder snarled in response, its tail flicking to the side as if it might strike you. But you didn’t flinch. You couldn’t afford to. In a matter of speaking, you weren’t exactly the type to fight dragons. They intrigued you—fascinated you in a way that made it hard to see them as mere enemies. You weren’t one to simply engage in a battle with something you didn’t understand, especially when their behavior wasn’t entirely rooted in malice.

You knew this was a high-risk situation, but you weren’t about to make things worse by provoking it further. Your eyes stayed locked on the Nadder as you slowly approached, hands up, keeping your posture calm and open. The dragon’s fiery gaze met yours, and for a split second, it seemed to hesitate, assessing you, its growls softening.

This wasn’t a fight—it was a standoff. And you weren’t going to fight if you didn’t have to.

Hiccup was still laying down to the ground, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he watched the scene unfold. The Nadder was on the offensive, its spines raised, ready to strike. The rest of the group was scrambling, trying to keep the dragon at bay with their weapons, but you... you weren’t doing what everyone else was.

A few tense moments passed. Then, with an almost reluctant grunt, the Nadder turned, its body coiling as it began to retreat, its fiery breath dissipating into the air.

You stood still, watching it leave. Only when it had fully backed off did you allow yourself to exhale, the adrenaline of the encounter still buzzing in your chest.

"You didn’t even use your weapon," Astrid said, her voice sounding a bit more incredulous than usual as she caught up with you. Her eyes were still wide, likely processing what had just happened.

Gobber, who had been watching the whole exchange from the sidelines, let out a low whistle of approval. "Well done, Astrid and [Name]." His gravelly voice was full of respect, and that made you feel a little less on edge.

Just as you were about to pat Astrid on her shoulder, however, her focus changed—badly—to Hiccup. Her eyes burned with frustration, the fire in them hard to ignore. “Is this some kind of a joke to you?” she spat, her fists clenched at her sides. “Our parents' war is about to become ours! Figure out which side you’re on.”

Hiccup shrank back slightly, fiddling with the strap of his tunic, his voice faltering. “I was just—”

“No, you weren’t,” Astrid interrupted, her voice sharp, her eyes narrowing as she stared down at him. “You never fight back. What happens when that hesitation gets one of us burned alive, huh? What if it’s me? Or him?” She jabbed her finger toward Snotlout, who looked momentarily offended, furrowing his brow at the gesture.

“Hey, hey, calm down, Astrid. Leave him alone.”

Hiccup looked up, surprised. The words weren’t directed at him—they were directed at Astrid, but somehow, they wrapped around him like a shield. You gave him a hand and helped him get up. His breath caught in his throat as you stepped forward, standing between them with an easy, almost casual determination. You were standing up for him. He wasn’t used to that, especially not from someone who he had never tried to make a conversation with. Now, you and Hiccup weren’t close, nor were you friends. but something about the situation made you act.

Astrid whipped her head toward you, her frustration evident in the tight line of her mouth, though now there was a flicker of confusion mixed in with the anger. “What? You’re going to defend him now?”

You nodded, standing your ground. “He’s trying to figure things out, Astrid. You don’t have to push him this hard. We’re all under pressure, but that doesn’t mean you get to tear each other apart.”

“And it’s not like we asked the Gods to give the responsibility of our parents to us,” you said, your voice a little more strained than you intended. Hiccup looked up at you, his brow furrowed, his hands still clasped tightly in front of him. He hadn’t expected that response. Neither had you. It just slipped out.

“Eh, she’s got a point there, lass.”

Astrid’s eyes flicked to you, her jaw tight. But she didn’t say anything. With a sharp exhale through her nose, she turned on her heel and walked off, boots striking the ground with clipped steps. The others followed in silence—Snotlout tossing a last glance back, Fishlegs adjusting his belt awkwardly, Ruff and Tuff muttering to each other but keeping close behind.

None of them looked at Hiccup.

Only Astrid’s shoulders stayed tense as she disappeared around the corner of the training paddock. Her anger wasn’t aimed at you—you could feel it in the way she hadn’t met your eyes. It was Hiccup she couldn’t even look at.

You didn’t stay behind like usual. Not today. You threw your gear over your shoulder, kept your head down, and started walking away—off the academy grounds, past the watchtower, and down the slope that led toward the cliffs. You thought of catching some fresh air in the woods, they normally have great scent due to the petrichor after raining.

“Hey—wait, [Name]!”

You slowed slightly but didn’t turn. You could hear him fumbling behind you. The voice was familiar—uncertain, hurried—but you’d recognize Hiccup’s anywhere, nervous, a little hoarse and scrawny like the cry of a newborn yak. You heard his boots scuff as he jogged to catch up, the unevenness of his steps telling you he wasn’t used to chasing people down. His voice always sounded a little too big for him, like he’d borrowed it from someone braver.

He reached your side, a little out of breath, one hand holding the strap of his satchel as if it might anchor him. “You—uh—you left kind of fast.”

“Food won’t wait for me,” you said, not breaking stride. The excuse slipped out easily, but it was a half-truth at best.

Hiccup hesitated, looking ahead before speaking again. “Why... why did you defend me?” Hiccup finally asked. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to hear the answer. Part of him thought he didn’t deserve it—he hadn’t earned it. He’d been a disappointment to so many already.

You glanced at your back. His expression wasn’t angry or accusatory—just... confused. Tentative. Like someone standing on a frozen lake, unsure how thick the ice really was.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said. “Back there… with Astrid. I mean, she wasn’t wrong. I mess things up. All the time.” There wasn’t self-pity in his voice—at least not the performative kind. It was just fact, spoken plainly. Like he’d memorized that line after hearing it too often.

“Don’t think of yourself badly, Hiccup.” Hiccup looked down, brow furrowed. He kicked at a pebble near his foot, watched it skip across the path.

“You’re brave,” you added, your voice softer now. “Not in the way people like Astrid think of it. But in your own way. The kind that matters.”

He blinked. For a moment, he didn’t seem to know what to do with your words. Then he laughed under his breath—a short, awkward sound, more surprised than amused.

“I don’t feel very brave,” he murmured.

“Most brave people don’t,” you replied.

“Thanks,” he said finally, quietly. “For saying that. For... being there.”

From that evening on, Hiccup started sticking closer than ever, almost as if he’s your second shadow.

At first, it was subtle. He'd show up early to group meetings, always managing to sit beside you even when the others rearranged themselves chaotically. He'd offer to carry an extra pack, pass you a flask of water without asking, or stand just a step behind you when tensions with the others ran high—as if your presence somehow steadied him.

Then it became impossible not to notice.

You’d turn a corner in the stables and there he’d be, scribbling in his sketchbook but glancing up the moment your heels hit the stone floor. He trailed you during patrol shifts under the pretense of wanting “extra field experience,” and at mealtime, his tray would somehow always end up across from yours. You never called him out on it. You didn’t need to. And strangely enough, you didn’t mind.

Whenever you were out in the field, testing your own methods—fast, unorthodox, bordering on reckless—Hiccup’s eyes never left you. Not once. While the others braced for dragon fire or fumbled with their shields, he’d be watching you, his gaze locked in quiet awe, trying to memorize the way you moved, how you timed your shifts between evasion and precision, like you were dancing with danger rather than dodging it.

You called him out the third time it happened.

“You’re gonna get torched if you keep staring like that,” you snapped, yanking him behind cover after a Nadder’s blast barely missed his leg. “Keep your eyes on the dragon, not on me.”

At first, the others teased him for it. Snotlout made howling noises every time Hiccup moved to follow you, and Ruffnut started keeping an imaginary tally—“That’s ten sightings today, folks. At this rate, he’ll be part of [Name]’s shadow by next week.” But Hiccup didn’t rise to it. He didn’t deny it, didn’t make excuses. He just gave them that sheepish smile of his and kept doing what he was doing.

#to be read

1K notes · View notes

amel1ee · 9 days ago

Text

GHOST PIRATE *ੈ✩‧₊˚ h. haddock x reader

summary : snotlout mocking you for your eye scar might unintentionally be the best thing that could have happened to you.

word count : 7.3k words

tags : fluff, rtte!hiccup, fem!reader, friends to something more, awkward romance, falling-down-and-getting-catched cliché, first kisses, getting caught, reader has a scar on her right eye which she covers, reader is like gothi's assistant, reader isn't adept at social situations, reader is quite oblivious, one throwaway sex joke at the end, snotlout's a little aggressive but when is he not, no use of y/n or (name)

author's note : why are there such a shortage of rtte hiccup x reader's MAN i am thirsty for some :(( anyway, this was fun writing, rtte hiccup is my roman empire dreamworks did not need to make him that fine

Having that scar over your eye had always made you insecure. It wasn't just because it looked horrible, there were other reasons for that. One of them being that it was a reminder that your face wouldn't look that same again, always having that ugly patch.

The other grounds for it were the way that Vikings—also known as (pardon the bluntness) meatheads with a hard comprehension for being. . . particularly emotionally adept—didn't know how to mask their emotions, and that the only expression that would grace their face when they see you was always in pitiful smiles, and more often than not, thinly masked disgust.

You would think that now that Berkian's learned to be in peace with literal Dragons, they'd also learn to be more emotionally sensitive, but you'd guess wrong.

But going back to Dragons. Those big, ferocious creatures had always made you antsy. Especially when you were younger—with all the ghost-stories that the kids would always rumor around, and the dead-man's tales that the older people in Berk would sing about in the Great Hall, it had given you the chills. You were all too scared by them.

Maybe a bit too scared.

A bit too scared that when you were mature enough—mature being sixteen years old—to be ordered to fight them off in one of their ambushes before they were domesticated, all those anecdotes and tales fled back to you, making your legs tremble then go stiff.

With the opening you had given it, one of the vicious reptiles had tried to bite your face clean off. Without Gothi's help—or more like her trusty staff and her good swing—you were sure you would've died.

But still, after all these years, you aren't too sure if that was a good thing. Now you're left with a wound that would never go away, a timeless reminder that you were frightened, and you didn't do anything to protect yourself.

A unaging memento of weakness.

It was all too much for a teenager like yourself, always being perceived as a poor soul, seen as an unfortunate example for Vikings that not thinking fast enough would wind up to look like you.

So, you did what all teenagers do when they didn't want to confront something—you hide it away. And that's exactly why you're wearing an eyepatch, well—a makeshift one, thanks to Gothi, who made you a simple cloth eyepatch. Gods bless her soul.

You looked more like an injured survivor, but it was better than people seeing you like you were some kind of weirdo—as if walking around with an eyepatch wasn't any less weird, but the Vikings found it less odd.

But still, jeers from your age group didn't cease. They lessened, but the subject topic of their jokes had shifted. From you being too weak of a Viking—if you could still call yourself a Viking—to being name called as a pirate. All of it just made you more inclined to stay inside.

Well, it was better than being mocked as weak, so you take that as a win.

And that's how it's currently been now, with you in the Great Hall, and with your exceptionally unfortunate luck, the only table vacant being next to a group of teenagers.

Oh, It's those Dragon Riders.

You haven't seen them in a while—you've presumed it was because they were busy at some place that you overheard them calling Dragon's Edge. But even with the lengthened time of not seeing them, you still remembered their names. They probably didn't know yours, but you didn't mind.

You were never really close to them, not that you bothered to be close—you didn't ever see yourself being in their circle, but you had hoped they didn't have the same reactions to you like the others when they notice you eating at the table next to theirs.

You wished they didn't sense your presence; or more specifically your eyepatch concealing your scar, but when they did notice, their hushed dialogue—is it still called hushed dialogue if you're talking this loudly?—had shifted to you, and who you were.

"She's pretty odd, when I first saw her, I thought she was supposed to be a pirate." You had heard Snotlout's voice boom from their friend's table next to your empty one. Even without looking at the Viking, you could already tell from the dripping ignorance in his voice that he was smiling, as if he was proud that he had called you that.

You didn't care enough to turn your head, just continuing to shovel food in your mouth, but you had heard a clear thonk! of wood hitting something metalic—you'd presume a mug making hard contact with his helmet.

"Ow." The boy whined.

"Sorry, my arm cramped." Astrid had apologized, with the tone of not being apologetic at all.

"Snotlout." You had heard Hiccup's voice warn his cousin. Even if Hiccup tried to warn him, it would be fruitless, because you knew Vikings like Snotlout—and Vikings like him didn't stop with just warnings. But still, the gesture had still made you smile.

"What? It's just strange, y'know? She barely talks too, like some kind of ghost."

"Snotlout, drop it." Now Astrid was trying to make him stop. You wanted to thank her for that, but maybe not now.

"What if she's some kind of ghost pirate? Like, haunting our village." Ruffnut commented.

"I heard that you could ward off ghosts with salt," Tuffnut had added.

"Ooo, does it work with ghost pirates too?" Her twin had asked, curious.

"We'll have to test it out, like an experiment." The blonde boy had raised a finger, as if to look more academically inclined.

"Okay, guys, I don't think—" Hiccup's voice had seemed nervous, but he didn't get to finish.

"Cool, let's try it." The blonde girl had entertained. The twins had gotten the salt from a bowl, a handful in both their fists, ready to lob it at you.

This time, you were actually amused enough to look at their table, observing each face, but not letting a word out.

Somewhat surprised that you had looked at them, the two Vikings had tried to cover up their mischief, one of them putting the salt in their mouth, and the other throwing it behind them, evidently covering Fishlegs and Hiccup in a good sprinkle of seasoning.

You were quite confused—more so, a bit peeved that Snotlout was talking about you like that, but you didn't pay attention to it too much. Turning back to your food, they seemed to match your actions as well—but not with Snotlout getting the last word in, albeit a little bit whispered, but not enough to be quiet.

"See? I'm just saying; no talking, no expression—Ghost behavior, I tell you." Snotlout leaned into the table to whisper, but it really did seem futile with that loud mouth of his.

Not wanting to hear any more of his or anyone else’s slight mockery, you stood up, the long bench chair you were sitting on skidding as you push out of your sitting position and walking out the Great Hall, but not before burning a glare at the teens.

You really didn’t mean to scowl at the whole table, you were only going to throw a dirty look at Snotlout.

It genuinely wasn't your intention to, especially with how the other teens had done nothing remotely wrong—some even trying to halt the discussion—but with just one eye as your vision, you couldn't help but just look at them all with a stink eye.

But you didn't care anymore, you just wanted to get away. You went to the Great Hall to eat for Thor's sake, not to be gossiped about like a spectacle. Stomping off to the exit, you didn't care enough to hear the scolding Snotlout and The Twins—but mainly just the sable-haired Viking—had to hear.

"Great job with that, Snotlout. Now she stormed off," Astrid chided.

"What did I do?"

"I think we should apologize, or one of us at least." Fishlegs meekly let out, finally speaking after the girl had walked out on all of them. All the while that this was happening, Ruffnut seemed to be spewing out the salt she'd hidden in her mouth at the side of the table, trying to blow raspberries to remove all of the saline taste from her mouth.

Astrid had looked to Hiccup, with them locking eyes. She had silently gestured for him, nodded to the door and her eyebrows raising, basically saying 'Dude, this is your chance, c'mon'. The brunet Viking had quickly understood, slightly nodding.

"Pretty sure you're right Fishlegs. I think I should catch up with her guys, she seemed pretty upset." Hiccup had already started to get up from his seat, starting to jog to the large door of the Great Hall.

They had watched him speed-walk away, hoping that he could reach her before he loses sight of her. The Dragon Riders had gone back to eating, with The Twins still trying to goof around, throwing their food at each other, and Fishlegs reading while scooping food to his mouth.

"I still don't understand what I said wrong," Snotlout had muttered, pushing his soup around in his bowl.

"Snotlout, I swear if you don't stop talking, I will hit you harder with my mug." Astrid threatened, who was right next to him.

"I thought you said that was an accident?"

"Keep talking and my fist will accidentally punch you."

You were speed walking with a tired expression on your face. You didn't even get to eat a lot of your food. Why did you have to storm off like that? You've endured much more scathing insults, but you suppose it hurt more that they were talking about you literally on the next table over. Now you're hungry and annoyed.

Just great.

You had almost made it to the ascending stairs, the way to Gothi's hut. You were about to go up before you heard someone try to call you, paired with the sound of quick pattering steps and the clanking of metal hitting the ground.

You presumed that it was Hiccup, since no one really had a metal leg in Berk, and that distinct voice he had that singled him out from the other Vikings. You looked over your shoulder before turning your whole body, seeing him catch up with you before putting his hands on his knees in exhaustion.

"Hey! Wait a sec—wow you can walk really fast," He uttered between breaths.

". . . Uh, hi?" You were entirely unsure of what to say. You'd never been in this type of situation before.

He had dusted his knees off and stood normally, his exhaustion finally subsiding, he waved awkwardly.

"Hey there, I wanted to apologize—Snotlout's just, he's the type of guy that just. . . says things, y'know? Don't take it too seriously," He shrugged.

"Don't be sorry, it's fine," You waved him off, dismissed his apology, and turned back to walk up the stairs. But your ascension up had been paused, especially with what Hiccup said.

"No, it's not, actually. Please just let me apologize about him, 'cause I know he won't."

"I assure you, it's fine." You insisted, but it genuinely wasn't. But you didn't want someone trying to apologize to you for someone else's actions.

You had tried to walk up quicker, but he seemed just fine matching your pace.

"At least just— let me accompany you up to Gothi's hut, as an apology of sorts. . .? Please?" Hiccup seemed to be unsure in what he was saying, you were 100 times confident that he didn't plan what he was saying to you, just blurting out what came to his mind to stop you from leaving him in the dust.

You found it amusing, so you allowed it. Now, he was walking with you up to Gothi's.

But what you didn't find amusing—was him trying to make small talk. The other people at Berk never really tried making dialogue with you, but maybe that's also your fault, with how jaded and distant you seemed from them. The only time they ever talked to you was to voice their concerns about their health and ask you to help them.

So now here you were, trying to reply as normal as possible to Hiccup's questions.

"Are you uh— hurt anywhere?"

"Huh?" Your steps slowed, with Hiccup matching yours.

Then you understood what he meant. He was asking if you were injured because you were going up to Gothi's. Your steps had paced normal again, with Hiccup trying to match your steps.

"Ooh, no. I'm just her assistant. . . I think so? It's not official, but it's kind of like that, I guess. I take care of the hurt patients who come up here if she's away."

"Oh, that's cool."

"Uh-huh. . ." You replied, trying to be as nonchalant as possible.

"You stay up there a lot, right? I don't see you a lot anymore." He smiled a little.

Anymore?

You didn't want to interrupt this casual dialogue, so you reply normally.

"Uh, yeah, I— I do. I pretty much moved all my stuff there so the others wouldn't see me much. Surprisingly, not everyone wants to see this," You pointed at your eyepatch.

"Really?" Hiccup listened, the way he looked so focused on you made you want to say things even more.

"Yeah, who knew? I guess not everyone wants to see a hideous scar when they go on to do their morning jobs. Crazy, right?" Your sarcasm was dripping from your voice, but you went on even more.

"It's not even exposed anymore, I covered it, but they're still weirded out. I'm pretty sure this time they're the weird ones at this point." Your arms had raised in action, expressive as ever.

Hiccup's hums of agreement and gentle smile had spurred you on even more to rant. You weren't sure what it was—maybe it's because finally someone had wanted to listen and look at you like a normal person, not some pitiful weak Viking.

"Might as well just bandage my whole face so they don't see me. I think I should change my eyepatch if they're still feeling odd about me, maybe that's it, I dunno. . . I don't really have the skill for it, though." You had shrugged.

"But I swear, if they still look at me funny when I do wear something else, I think I'll just give up and accept my title as a ghost pirate and haunt our village—just like your friends were saying." You looked at him, concluding your rant. Hiccup softly chuckled at your attempt at a joke, and it made you heart smile.

You both were almost at your mentor's porch when he went silent, as if he was thinking of something. Just a couple of steps left, and you were there. You were pretty satisfied with how you both weren't speaking, just a soft, gentle tranquility accompanying both of you.

But then, Hiccup had piped up.

"Well. . . If you were, let's just say, hypothetically; you had the chance to change it, what would it look like?"

You were puzzled by the random question. Was he trying to entertain you? You looked at him, and looked away in thought, before going back to look at green observant eyes.

"Well hypothetically speaking; I guess I'd make it out of leather with something to cushion it inside? That way it wouldn't really hurt on my skin." You had mused, your steps slowing as you had made it to the last step of your mentor's stairs.

"And maybe some kind of design on it? I feel like it would look nice if I put our tribe's insignia, I'm not sure, but maybe just something. . ." Your eyebrows furrowed in focus, your thumb rubbing against the pads of your fingers, a habit that helped you to think.

"Nice-looking, I guess. Maybe it'd take attention away from. . . Yeah." Your body went lax, feeling kind of shy. You realized you were getting too into it, remembering it was just a hypothetical question.

"Well, I'll be sure to remember that." He didn't seem mind one bit, that you went on a whole speech, and just smiled back at your timid stature. You didn't know what he meant by what he said, but you smiled back at him anyway.

You had made it to the top. He had paused a step before you, now slightly looking up at you. You had turned around, fiddling with your hands.

"So. . ." You didn't really know what to say next. See you around? Does this make us friends? Your apology's accepted? You weren't really prepared to being put in a social situation like this. Well, you weren't prepared for any social situation for that, with how little you talked with others, but anyway.

Thankfully, Hiccup had spoke, because you were sure if you had enough silence, you'd just end up saying something silly.

"I'll see you, around then. . .?" He had gone up the last step so he could be at your height, and rubbed the nape of his neck, waiting for your reply.

"Uhm— yeah! Thank you, by the way— for the. . . Coming with me, I— I guess," You sputtered, but had recovered, a soft grin with crinkled eyes lay on your face.

"I'll be going now. . . Yep," You pointed behind you and started to walk backwards, hopefully reaching Gothi's door. But that plan would fall flat when you tripped over some stray bottle that had fallen from the table.

"Woah!"

The split second you had before you fell you saw from your peripheral that if you stumbled just a little bit more, you'd fall off the tower.

Just incredible, what a way to go.

You closed your eyes, ready for the impact of the air hitting you as you fall down, but you were surprised to feel a weight jump on you, tackling you to inches away from to edge.

"Umph!" Hiccup's voice had jolted out.

You open your eyes in caution; to see Hiccup lying on you, his head tucked in your neck. You were close—a little too close. You can smell his scent, the way his breathing pattern was heavy from lunging at you, his hair which seemed messy and unkempt from flying, but he still managed to make it look good.

"Gothi should really add a safety railing," He mumbled into your neck. It gave you goosebumps.

You expected yourself to be weirded out, but you weren't. You were just flustered, now thinking about it. Hiccup practically glomped you—yes, to safety, but that wasn't the point—and you were both stuck in this position, with the Dragon Rider still lying on you.

You supposed he felt how tense you were—assuming you felt odd in the position you were in and tried to prop himself up with his hand.

"Oh! Yeah sorry," Unintentionally, he had grabbed your waist in support, maybe a wee bit hard, earning him a surprised oh! from you.

Realizing his mistake, he let go immediately, as if he had touched a hot furnace. But given that it was his only means of support to give him balance, him letting go had consequently made him fall onto you again, his head almost meeting yours, but missing.

But what didn't miss though, was his lips falling onto your cheek. It felt surreal, something you've never experienced—a kiss, happening literally right before your eyes. Accidental, yes, but it still made you blush furiously. But it seems as if he didn't notice, or chose not to, picking your comfort first.

"Oh Thor, sorry about that, let me just," Hiccup tried to get up again, his hand already trying to prop itself on the floor, but you stopped him, grabbing his forearm.

"No, just— just stay still. I'll move instead." He nodded bashfully at your request, you guess he also felt nervous feeling the gravity of the position you're in.

You nudged his leg with your own, so he could move it up, and then you maneuvered yourself out.

You both stand up, dusting yourself off while he fixed his tunic that went askew when he was laying on you.

"She really should add a railing," You reply.

"Yeah,"

Again, a calm silence had covered you both, a lingering of eyes at each other, observing the latter.

You didn't want to keep him longer, maybe he was busy. So, you sent him off.

"Now this is officially 'i'll see you later'." You threw finger guns at him as you shyly grinned and waved, the gestures reciprocated by the brunet Viking, before you went into Gothi's hut, the last glimpse of him walking down the stairs before you closed the door.

You smile to yourself as you look at the door, before leaning your head on it. You placed a delicate hand on your right cheek, where his lips had accidentally placed themselves on.

First kiss. Cheek kiss, yeah, but who cares?

Your smile grew wide as you quietly chuckled. If anyone saw you right now, they'd probably think you were being weird—well, weirder. But you were in the comforting silence of Gothi's hut, with no one to perceive you.

Turning around, you swear you has actually jumped out of your skin, your joyous expression replaced with one of shock.

"GAH! Gothi, you. . ." You clenched your heart, before trying to even your heartbeat.

"Really need to make a sound so I know you're there. I almost died," Your hand had dropped back down. You were exaggerating clearly, Gothi knew that as well, rolling her eyes. She had gotten off the stool she was on and nodded to the door, walking up to you.

Having enough time spent with the old woman, you already knew she was gesturing for you to ask what happened out there.

"Oh, I just tripped over a bottle, I almost fell down the tower, y'know? Hiccup was there with me too; he was apologizing for something Snotlout did." You had explained, a smile had graced your face when you brought the Dragon Rider up.

"I didn't want him to apologize, but he insisted, so he accompanied me up here. So, back to me falling—He helped me so I wouldn't fall from the tower, he practically lunged at me. He's pretty. . . nice. He's got a nice smile, too. I haven't seen him or the others in a while, it was a nice change. Anyway," You had walked over to the shelf of books the hut had, trying to find a book on botany to brush up your knowledge. You were trying to focus, looking at the titles on the spines of the books, before you felt Gothi stare at you, a knowing stare paired with a growing smile as if she was teasing you.

You looked back to meet her gaze and smiled innocently.

"Okay, What?" You had giggled, as if you didn't know. But you knew she was teasing you. Maybe you really shouldn't have talked about him like you were crushing on him.

Not that you weren't.

Gothi raised her eyebrow, still grinning at her assistant, not believing it for a second.

"He's just a friend, Gothi—a passerby, even. Nothing more." You concluded, busying yourself with actually finding the book, and you eventually did. Pulling the book out with a swift motion before going to a vacant chair on her dining table, opening to a random page to read with the book close to your face, trying to remain as unaffected as possible.

Gothi had seemed let it go, coming up to her student and patting her head, a comforting habit they had grown to enjoy in the comfort of her home.

The Viking healer had gone up the stairs, supposedly to feed the Terrible Terrors. Once she was out of your peripheral vision, you had leaned back on the back of the seat, book covering a quarter of your face as you looked up to the ceiling.

What the Thor just happened?

You tried to recall the latest events that had occurred with the brunet boy, looking back to the most memorable parts—well, most memorable to you.

You replay the moment where you both had accidentally were on the floor, especially the events after that. Your cheeks were going flush as you naturally smiled, the book being your cover, your eyes closing as you replay the moment.

He seemed like someone you'd like to be seeing more often. What was it about him that made you so. . . allured? You only had one meeting together, but why did you feel so pulled to him?

Was it because this was one of the only normal conversations that someone had treated you like a human being? No, you already felt like that with Gothi, but it was something else.

You wouldn't deny that Hiccup was. . . For a lack of better words, an attractive dude. He grew in well, his height really elevating him, paired with his babyface growing more chiseled, evolving him from a cute and charming boy who was also quite handsome.

But just because you liked him now for that, doesn't mean you didn't have a crush on him before. It was before every one had actually believed in him.

You'd watch from afar as he courageously proven his worth, showing that he is so much more than what the village painted him to be. He was. . . really cute back then too. And the way he was sarcastic and witty, you liked that as well. You would never tell him back then about it, and you probably never tell him now.

Sighing into the book, you shake your head in disapproval.

What am I thinking? I need to read this, not think about him like some kind of lovesick yak.

You sit upright now, actually retaining the information of the contents in the book, but not before putting an imaginary tab in your thoughts to revisit the subject about the brunet Viking.

"Gothi told me you needed my help?" You stick your head in first, peeking inside before going in fully. Walking into the Blacksmith's Shop, you saw Hiccup, working away at some new invention for him and Toothless.

He had turned to you, his eyes slightly crinkling with a satisfied smile.

"Yeah, I do," He walked some steps to where the tools had been stored, and pulled out something you couldn't tell what it was, his body covering the tool.

He faced you again, before speaking.

"C'mere." He spoke quickly, now unraveling the hidden object—a measuring tape.

Huh?

"What? Hiccup, what are you doing?" You asked, tiredness coating your voice, crossing your arms and tilting you head slightly.

"I need to measure you. Now, come here." He beckoned again, gesturing to you to come closer. He had put more pressure in the command, but smiling gently to not look like he was trying to be domineering—not to say you didn't like it.

You had rolled your eyes playfully, dropping your arms and marching up to him, a little too close, your chest just mere inches apart.

But he didn't tell you to step back.

"Measure me for what?" You shrugged in confusion, but he didn't answer your question, he just gave you another request.

"Stay still, okay?" Without another beat, he hovers both arms on your shoulders. If his arms were a little lower, placed on the curve of your shoulder. But you wouldn't mind. You imagined that they looked like they would fit there. As if it was in its rightful place.

Fiddling with the measuring tape to get the right side, he instinctively leaned into the side, hovering over your face. You observed him, your eyes following his face as he was working, a little too observed—you'd say yourself, noticing the scattered freckles kissed on his face, the small cut a few inches under his lips.

You never noticed he had a scar on his chin; it looked quite cute.

A little shocked—more like flustered—you had lifted your head an inch, as a means to back away. He noticed, halting his movements and looking you in the eyes.

Locking eyes with his, those eyes. Oh, his eyes. They enraptured you; like the gentle breath of the air hitting your skin, the viridescent irises, dull like olives, yet alluring as much.

His gaze was on you, before grazing over your features—the way your cheeks were flushed presumably from the heat of the Blacksmith's Shop, the slow fluttering of your eyelashes as you blinked as if you were being cautious, and then your lips.

It was only for a brief moment, but as you saw his eyes glance down, your lips parted in bewilderment. He seems to have caught on, blinking quickly, slightly pursing his lips in struggle, and turning his head back to the job at hand.

The soft material of the measuring tape had wrapped around the circumference of your head, Hiccup looking as if he took a mental note, before changing the angle of the measuring tape, diagonally over your head, from the side of your head all the way to under your ear.

After finishing, he lets go of the measuring tape, and his arms drop down to his sides.

"Well. . .?" You tilted your head slightly, your arms crossing once more. It was a pass at him, as if to reignite your previous questions, hoping he understood the memo.

Rest assured he did not understand the memo.

"Well, that was it. Thanks." Shooting you a soft smile, before turning around to put what he was using back to its rightful place, before looking at you with a grin.

If Hiccup wasn't so charmingly cute with the sheepish simper of his and if he was just like all the other Vikings, you would have hit him with the closest thing in your vicinity.

Ignore the first part of your thought, you weren't supposed to be thinking about that right now.

Instead of going for the gruesome part of that pondering, you close your eyes in slight irritation.

"So, let me get this straight; you order Gothi to call me, you lie and say that you needed my help, make me walk all the way down the stairs, just to measure me?"

"Okay, I know it sounds bad right now—" Hiccups quick to defend himself, his hands raising as if to show innocence.

"More like weird, but sure," You add.

"But I swear," His arms extend to you, grabbing your shoulders delicately. It felt nice, being treated like that from him.

"It will make sense tomorrow." He squeezed your shoulders in assurance, hoping you'd believe him. It didn't make you believe him, more like make your brain short circuit that would force you to say the only thing you knew how to.

"Just trust me, okay?" He looked like a puppy, asking its owner to pet him. He looked genuine, as if he wasn't capable of treating you brashly, only carefully.

Not being able for your mind to process anything else but him clutching you on each side, combined with the way his eyes kissed your gaze, you replied with an unfocused agreement.

"O— Okay," You smile at his kind eyes, his own lips reciprocating.

And that's where it ended. You didn't really remember exiting the shop, or walking back, just laying yourself on the bed, the cushion of your pillow the only thing bringing you out of your trance.

You still couldn't understand why he brought you all the way down just to measure your head, but you didn't want to complain—nope, scratch that. You didn't have the mind to complain.

Maybe it's 'cause of your teenage brain, the hormones in your mind thinking about boys, the most decent one out of them, your head full of him even when he wasn't there. Yes, just science, definitely because of that.

But then your thought floats back to the previous events; his gaze on yours, looking at your facial features, before going to your lips, then going back again to his work, slightly flushed on his cheeks from the heat of the Forge.

You smile at the thought.

Yep, just hormones.

"Just keep having your eyes— uh, eye closed," Hiccup had almost tripped over himself trying to drag you up the stairs with your vision blocked, especially since you were just walking aimlessly in the direction he was leading you to.

"If this is something stupid again and you're measuring my arm's next, Hiccup, I will throw something at you." Your one hand was still covering you left eye, with the other holding his hand.

That snark from you didn't earn an eyeroll from him, but a soft chuckle.

"I promise it's not,"

You wanted to smile, the feeling of his fingertips brushing against yours felt sparking, and the way he squeezed them when in assurance that he was still there made you melt, but you didn't want to focus on that right now.

"Okay, we're here." You feel the terrain under your feet change, the stone clacking on your boots now turning soft, dampened. You suppose he took you inside somewhere.

"That was good, but we're going to have to go up the stairs again, okay?"

Getting tired of this whole charade, you finally let down your hand.

"Okay, Hiccup, what are we. . ."

That was as far as you could get in your sentence, your attention now focused on the location you were in.

It seemed to be the Chief's hut, where Hiccup and Stoick reside, and you were at the front of the stairs. You've never been in here, but with the small bits and pieces you've seen from the moment the door was wide open, you could pinpoint that he had took you here.

"No wait I—" He had panicked, the other hand that was free going behind him.

"Why are we here. . .?" You questioned as you looked at him, and then the hand behind his back.

"And what's behind you?" You tilted your head, trying to take a peek at what he was hiding, but he just shuffled back to hide it more.

"Nothing, my hand's just cramping, y'know. . .?" He laughed, and that was definitely what made you believe he was lying, your face going deadpan.

"Hiccup." Your tone had gone into a warning, arms crossed, and your eyebrow raised.

Looking at you once more to check if there was a sliver of a chance that you'd let it go, he sighed, his shoulders dropping. He slowly let his hand out, with something in his fist.

"It was supposed to be a surprise in my room where it's private, but I guess it still is secluded here."

He opened his palm and presented it to you.

An eyepatch. It was crafted from leather, a nice sleek brown color, with a star-like embossing, reminding you of the stars of a compass. Turning the eyepatch around, you see a soft fabric, supposed to cushion around the eyepatch to prevent harsh rubbing on the skin. You turned it around and examined it more as he talked again.

"I tried to make it to what you wanted—"

You lifted your head and looked at him, then to the side in thought as you recalled what he was talking about. He was listening that time. He was taking account of your ideas, and he was actually listening to you.

You were silent and turned your eyes back at him as he explained more.

"If you don't— If you don't like it. . . I can make it again," He mistook your silence for disgust, and rubbed his arm in nervousness.

"Hiccup, no," You stepped closer to him, and took both his hands in yours, the eyepatch forgotten about as you held it between his hands.

"I like it." Your grin grew as his face had started to contort into relief.

"Y— You do?" He was smiling now, and that just made you giggle.

"Yes, I do!" You couldn't contain what you felt, and clutched his hands in yours in assurance, earning you a small kiss of red on his cheeks as he smiled back.

"I like it so much, I could kiss— kiss you. . ." Your joyous face had contorted into horror, your eyes avoiding his immediately, with your voice weakening at the last part when you realize what you just said.

Hiccup's face had also matched yours, but not horror, with shock. Like something he could've never expected came out of your mouth.

"What?" He uttered. His face was unreadable, but that just made you all the more upset.

"Sorry, that was. . . weird. I'll go, " You dismissed yourself quickly and had immediately let go of the hold of his hands, but he had immediately snatched them back in his grasp.

The unexpected action had made your troubled face look to him, and you were surprised to see his painted with worry and panic.

"Don't go, okay? I wouldn't. . ." He hesitated with his choice of words, making you curious.

"You wouldn't. . .?" You waited for him to say what he wanted patiently, but what he said made your shoulders go lax, relieved.

"I said I wouldn't. . . mind," He mumbled the last word, but you heard it loud and clear. It felt confusing, but you were happy nonetheless trying to put the pieces together.

He wouldn't mind. . . Kissing you?

It gave your stomach literal flutters, as if multiple Night Terrors had taken refuge in there, flying about.

You didn't want to assume, you wanted him to say it.

"What?" You acted oblivious, a smile gracing your face.

"I said I wouldn't mind," He muttered it with more confidence, but still with a tad bit of hesitance.

"You. . . Wouldn't mind what?" Your eyebrows furrowed in faux confusion.

He sighed in slight irritation, but he felt like he was being teased this time.

"Do I really have to say it all, out loud?" He said with deadpan, and you nodded eagerly, the mask of confusion pulled off.

He held your hands and pulled you closer, his eyes meeting your gaze. He understood now that you were just acting confused.

"I wouldn't mind you kissing me, okay?" He smiled, and you mirrored him, slightly laughing and nodding.

"You get it now? I even said it all out loud for you—"

He was cut off, the feeling of your lips on his had made his voice die in his throat, with his eyes fluttering close. You didn't plan it, but the way he looked in the light of the nearby crackling fire had graced his had made him look so. . . Kissable. You couldn't help it.

You stayed in that position for a few seconds, before you pulled away, his hands still intertwined with yours.

"I get it now, crystal clear." You taunted, a grin and a small breathy chuckle leaving you.

But he didn't reply, only a smile expressing that he was as happy as you. Before you could say anything else, he pulled you in again. One hand leaving yours to cradle your cheek.

This kiss lasted longer, and you both pulled away only mere inches to see each other. The way you both looked ecstatic, your grins and crinkled eyes looking at each other, as if you could stay with him forever.

But this moment didn't last forever, with the door suddenly bursting open, revealing Hiccup's burly, large, and intimidating father, Stoick and seeing the rather incriminating position you both were put in.

You immediately pulled away from each other, as if you both were the same polarity of a magnet, trying to cover yourselves up and salvage what was left of both your dignities.

"So, thanks Hiccup for. . . Helping me with that—" Dusting yourselves off as you went to the door to exit, Hiccup trailing behind you.

"Yeah, it's fine, it wasn't a big deal—" He waved you off.

"I really should go now, I think Gothi's calling me right about now. . . Oh, hi Chief, didn't see you there. . .!" You quickly greet, your pitch going a bit higher as you scurry out of the space between the Chief and the doorway.

Stoick had greeted you, a gruff 'Hello' sufficing and finally moving so his son could follow you up to the porch of the door, watching the whole scene unravel.

You had started walking away, but not before looking back and waving goodbye.

"Uhm— goodbye, Hiccup," You smiled as you waved, your cheeks flushed from the embarrassment and the heat of the moment that had just happened.

Hiccup wasn't looking too good either, his freckled face slightly kissed with red, his grin a little dopey, weakly waving back.

You had made it far enough from the hut that you were alone with your thoughts.

What just happened?

You couldn't comprehend where a lot of it came from, but you knew one thing, and it made you giddy;

This was the blooming start of something new between you two.

BONUS ⋆˚✿˖°

Today was one of the best days of Hiccup's life—he kissed you, the girl he had a crush on his whole teenage life, and you like him. You actually liked him back.

And not just being one of the best days of his life, but some of the rarest; as the patriarch of the household, Stoick the Vast, had surprisingly ate with his son at supper.

The dinner table was filled with wood clunking against each other and mouth's chewing, not wanting to address the large Bewilderbeast in the room, until it was interrupted by Stoick's rough voice.

"So, how's your girlfriend son?"

Hiccup had choked on the soup that was in his mouth, coughing quite violently.

"Dad— that wasn't— We aren't—" Hiccup tried to let out his defense, but the soup still in his throat had made it all the more harder, punching his chest to speak properly.

"It's okay, son, I understand," Stoick had put a hand in defeat.

"You're at the right age already, and I shouldn't stop you," His father shrugged, and Hiccup didn't have the energy to defend himself anymore, just letting his old man talk all he wanted to until it ended.

But what his father said next made him jump up to talk, immediately wanting this to end.

"But I guess it's time I should teach you this now son," He put a hand on his son's shoulder in affirmation.

"About fornication— or birds and the bees, whatever they call it now," He finished.

Yep, Hiccup might just implode inside right now.

He groaned and covered his ears.

"Okay, Dad, it's fine—"

"I know it won't happen, son— You're a responsible, young Viking, but all the more reason to tell you. What if something happens?" His father ignored his pleas as he shrugged.

"Okay, Dad, I think you should stop." Now covering his eyes, because he cannot believe what is actually happening right now, he lets out a big sigh as he gives up, letting his father rant about being 'safe' and knowing the 'responsibility' of their actions.

He thought of something else to let his mind wander, and it eventually led to you. He smiled under his hands, but it wasn't enough to drown out his father's lecture.

"But I know when you do, you'd be a great parent, son—" Hiccup cut his father off, groaning at him.

"Oh, Dad. . ." A tired tone lacing his voice.

But he didn't mind, because all of this happened because you kissed him. And he wouldn't take it for anything else.

Well, maybe exclude the 'birds and the bees' talk he already knew well about.

He was a teenager, after all.

lmao W for stoick tryna teach hiccup about safe sex lol, anyway hope you enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it :3

tell me if you liked it in the comments, i love getting replies on my work ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

anyway, peace out guys 𖹭.ᐟ

#to be read

2K notes · View notes

amel1ee · 21 days ago

Note

Drew being interviewed by a very touchy/ flirty interviewer and they even ask if he would date them if it wasn’t for you at the end (req btw lol)

the interview starts innocent enough. he’s in a soft black sweater, sleeves pushed to his forearms, a thin gold ring on his right hand, turning slow circles as he listens. he nods and smiles smiles, says something about the script pulling him in, about working with good people. his voice is low, lazy—media trained mode.

and the interviewer? she’s eating it up. she’s laughing too hard, leaning in and pushing her plastic tits up. her eyes duck to his mouth a little too often. she asks about the movie and then his skincare routine and then, “okay, sorry, not to be that person, but…do you ever get tired of being so hot?”

drew blinks, raises his eyebrows, and tilts his head. he looks off to the side at his management team and they shrug with wide eyes. when he looks back to the interviewer, he merely laughs and says, “uh, i think you’ve got the wrong guy.”

“nope,” she grins, one leg crossing over the other. her shoe brushes his ankle like it’s an accident—it’s not. “definitely the right guy. your girlfriend must be, like, spiritually enlightened to handle it.”

he smiles, but it’s smaller now. a light blush dusts his cheekbones at your mention. “she is.” just three words, but his voice dips. there’s weight to it—pure love and admiration.

you know that tone. it’s the one he uses when he slides your shirt off slow, kisses your hipbone like it’s holy. it’s the one he uses when he’s madly in love and trying not to give it away.

the interviewer shifts and tries again. “so what’s the secret? to making it work?”

“respect,” he says. “and trust. and she’s smarter than me, so i kind of have to keep up.” his smile turns sideways. “it’s a full time job.”

the girl laughs. the noise is a little sharper this time. “you talk about her like,” she pauses to pout her lips, “she’s your religion.”

drew shrugs. “maybe she is.”

that gets a pause. a beat of air where her flirty bravado slips. but she recovers. swings her hair over one shoulder and grins wide. “okay, so be honest,” she purrs, faux casual. “if she didn’t exist…would you date me?”

camera’s rolling but the crew goes still. drew leans back in his chair. eyebrows up and mouth twitching. there’s a pause. like he’s weighing the humor of it versus the disrespect. and then he says, lightly, almost sweet, “nah.”

“no?” her grin falls into a frown.

he smiles, all teeth this time. wolfish and fond and dangerous. “you couldn’t handle me.” the girl blinks again. red fills her cheeks and this time it’s not from how attractive he is. “i’m serious,” he says. “you like the version of me that sits pretty and says nice things. she likes all the other versions. the messy ones. the ones that don’t make the press junkets.”

he looks into the camera like it’s you. like you’re already watching this and rolling your eyes at home. “she likes the real me. and that’s kind of rare, isn’t it?” he shrugs again, and just like that, the camera stops.

later, in the car, his phone buzzes with your text.

you: you couldn’t handle me??

he grins, fingers already typing back.

drew: you liked that and you know it.

drew: home in twenty.

drew: shirt off in twenty if you’re lucky.

you: 🙄

and then a selfie. you’re clad in a tank top and no bra—nipples peaking through like a tease of what’s to come. you’re smirking as you flip him off. his gold ring shimmers on your middle finger. he groans, one hand adjusting his pants, the other texting.

drew: yeah. you’re definitely my religion.

you: i’ll worship however you want

you: just promise to blacklist that interviewer

taglist ~ @ren-ni @bungurus @kayperrysinging @cupids-diner @mojitrvo @babygirlboeser @makiplan @ladyatwalmart @qversazex @nothingtosee333her @soft-starr @f10werfae @brennanyay @grungefck @kravinoffswife @restinpaece @illumoria @meetmeintheemeraldpool @miaaaoa @imtalkinnonsense @strawberrymilk99 @angel06babysworld @rafesteddy @drewrry @urcoolgf @thegirlnextdoorssister @sydneysslove @dsfault @missabsey @ivysturnss @kisses4rafey @katiebby04

#drew scenarios

1K notes · View notes

amel1ee · 2 months ago

Text

10K notes · View notes

amel1ee · 2 months ago

Text

⋆˚࿔ deuxmoi 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

drew starkey x reader

words; 513

mdni

inspired by this post

warnings; p!link (must be signed in to X to view), suggestive, unedited, prob cringe idk this is my first time writing in yearssss

p!link

You’re lounging on Drew’s couch, head propped on the arm rest. Your neck bent just enough to be comfortably uncomfortable. The sound of the water running faintly trickles from beneath the bathroom door and you have half a mind to join Drew in the shower when a post on instagram catches your eye.

Deuxmoi.

Rolling your eyes, you begin to scroll but the top comment stops you. “not drew :(”?

Drew?

Your gaze flits to the caption, briefly skimming it. Which actors are good kissers? What a lame gimmick. Despite your obvious disdain, you can’t fight off your curiosity. You skip past the slides until you reach Drew’s. “Drew Starkey is alright. He's cocky now, and I lost the spark, so it's not what it used to be.”

Your expression twists up into something close to disgust, a scoff passing your lips. ‘Alright’? As someone on the receiving end of his affection, you can’t help but laugh at the inaccuracy. He’s not ‘cocky’, he’s dominant.

You could write this off as some random desperate for clout… but where’s the fun in that?

You quickly sit up, sitting cross-legged while tapping into the photo album you and Drew share. It contains your most intimate moments as a couple.

Finally, selecting the perfect one, you upload it to your private twitter. You type out the words, “alright kisser?”, before your thumb hovers over the post button.

Doubts creep in.

It’s not like either of our entire faces are in it, just Drew’s distinguishable nose. But no one could prove anything. And no one you know, knows this is your account.

Before you can dwell any further, you look up to see Drew padding over to you, towel low on his hips. A smile spreads across your lips before you can stop it — not like you’d try.

“Hey, baby…” A lazy smile dimples his cheek and he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. You melt, reaching up to trail your fingers up the ridges of his dripping abs. He hisses your name through clenched teeth and you can’t help giggling as he twitches. “C’mon, I just took a shower,”

You relent with a sigh, woefully turning away. “Mmm, so you hate me?” He groans playfully, leaning down to kiss you slowly. He tastes minty with a flavor that’s distinctly him. Kissing him wasn’t something you could ever see yourself getting tired of. ‘Alright kisser’ your ass.

Gently pressing against his warm chest, you ask him to wait in bed for you.

It’s gratifying, the way he’s hesitant to let go of you. But the promise of sex is enough to get him going and once he’s out of sight, you return to your phone. He wouldn’t ever see it, he doesn’t even use twitter. And with that, you hit post. It satisfies the possessive, protective part of you that wants to dangle the fact that he’s yours over the rest of the world. And with that, you leave your phone alone on the couch, leaving it to explode with notifications while you indulge yourself.

#drew scenarios

149 notes · View notes

amel1ee · 2 months ago

Text

˗ˏˋ MASTERLIST ˎˊ˗

where obsession, heartbreak, & heat collide.

RAFE CAMERON:

AU:

✩ frat!rafe x party!girl!reader

ONE SHOTS:

✩ cardigan

✩ this love (pt. 2 of cardigan)

✩ at his mercy (18+)

✩ dont you dare

✩ crawling back to you

✩ if it wasn’t real why did it hurt?

✩ if it wasn’t real why did it hurt? II

✩ mine to ruin (18+)

✩ vampire

✩ even devils can bleed

✩the greatest

✩ reflection (18+)

JJ MAYBANK:

✩ sailor song

DREW STARKEY:

SERIES:

✩ hidden vows

✩ what happens in nashville

READER(S):

✩ drew starkey x actress!reader

✩ bonita!reader

ONE-SHOTS:

✩ karma is the guy on your tv screen

✩ dress (18+)

✩ when it happened to me

✩ when it happened to me pt. 2

✩ birthday wish (18+)

✩ home for the holiday

✩ divine entrance

✩ birthday surprise

✩ you’re losing me

✩ tutus, tea parties, and uncle drew

✩runway lights

✩ when you know, you know

✩ what was real

✩ you said you loved me

Requests: OPEN

#to be read

177 notes · View notes

amel1ee · 2 months ago

Text

Date Night.

Drew Starkey x f!reader

a/n: drew has me like, “i beg your finest pardon.” the entire time in this fic.. so just a fair warning right now, there is smut in this fic. please read at your own discretion 😀 !MDNI! this is also my first smut fic, apologies if it’s not great.. that’s all, enjoy! - tt 🫧

“You look so good, baby.” Drew blurred out. He’d been admiring Y/n the entire night, as they were on their date tonight at their favorite place downtown L.A. Y/n looked up as she drank her wine, catching his eyes.

“Why thank you, baby.” She said giving him the sweet smile Drew loves. Drew stayed silent and kept moving his eyes from her face down to her neck to her chest. “My eyes are up here, sir.” Y/n said tilting her head at him. Drew chuckled at her comment. “Hmm.” He hummed tilting his head back at her. “I'm sorry. I’m just admiring one of my favorite pair of pillows.” He said. “Debating if I should cum on those or my other favorite pair.” Y/n nearly choked on her pasta. “Drew!” She yelled in whisper. Drew chuckled again and leaned back in his chair. “What? It's a very hard decision.” He said shrugging his shoulders. “You know what? I’ll leave that decision to you. I love when you tell me where to cum. It’s different every time.” he smirked, picking up his wine. Y/n felt her cheeks get warm. “Drew, please.” she said shaking her head. Drew loved seeing how shy she got when he talked ‘dirty’ to her, in a way he felt some pride knowing he was the only one that got to see her like this.

Their waiter approached their table before Drew could say anything else. “How are we doing guys? Can I get a check for you?” They asked. “Yeah, that would be great thank you.” Drew answered. A few moments later, the waiter returned with their bill. As Drew reached down his pocket to grab his wallet and started filling out the receipt, Y/n took this time to have a little fun too, maybe even have her own debate question herself. Feeling the shyness start to leave her body, she bit her lip thinking about what she wanted to do after they’d left the restaurant. Slowly, she moved one foot toward Drew, making contact with his leg under the table. She started moving her foot up and down his leg, teasing him. Drew looked up from the table, “Watch yourself.” He said, his voice was deep and raspy, like he was warning her. Y/n let out a chuckle, never ceasing her actions, like she wanted to taunt him, kind of like what he did to her. She knew what this would lead to, so she didn’t want to stop.

All of a sudden, Drew wrapped his hand around her ankle from under the table, making her stop. “Y/n, I’m not playing.” He said again with his deep voice. He’s getting closer. She thought to herself. Deciding to stop for the moment, she obeyed him and stopped. Shortly after the waiter gave Drew his card back, they both got up from their seat and made their way towards the exit doors. Drew kept his hand dangerously low on her back as they walked, keeping her close to him.

Like a true gentleman, when they got to Drew’s car, he opened the passenger door for Y/n and helped her get in safely before lightly shutting the door. Once he was situated in his seat, they started making their way back to Drew’s apartment. Y/n decided it was the perfect time to continue her little game. “So I did some thinking.” She spoke up. Drew placed his hand on her thigh, “mhm?” He hummed. “What about, baby?” He asked, glancing at her slightly before bringing his eyes back to the road. “About what you said earlier.” She said as they came to a red light. Drew furrowed his eyebrows at her signaling to be more specific. “About where you should cum.” She said looking at him with her signature innocent look on her face.

Drew chuckled with a smirk and began nodding his head, understanding her. “And what’s the verdict?” He asked rubbing her thigh. Y/n bit her lip before responding. “I think you should cum inside me.” She said. Drew paused for a second, then chuckled again. “You’re funny.” He said not taking her decision seriously. She leaned over bringing a hand up unbuttoning two buttons of his shirt. She started rubbing his upper exposed chest and whispered, “I’m serious, I wanna feel your warm cum in me.” Y/n can see drew clench his jaw. Oh we’re super close. She thought to herself again. “Babe, you’re playing a dangerous game right now, you know that?” He asked as pulling into the parking garage. “It’s a game I’m willing to play.” She said leaning back into her seat and unbuckled her seatbelt. She reached over to open her car door only to be stopped by Drew.

“Stay.” He said turning off the car and unbuckled his own seatbelt. He got out of the car and made his was way over to Y/n’s side and opened the door for her, making sure to grab a hold of her hand so that she got out safely. Without another word they both made their way inside the apartment building. As they walked through the lobby, Drew kept his hand on her back, guiding her towards the elevators.

Ding! The elevator doors opened, Drew let Y/n go in first, once he was inside he pressed the button to his floor. Without letting the doors close first, Drew couldn’t handle the tension anymore. He lightly pushed Y/n against the elevator wall, smashing his lips into hers. Y/n moaned at the contact. Drew felt her smile against his lips, he pulled away looking down at her lips. “This what you wanted?” He said gripping her hips, pressing himself on her letting her feel how hard he was. “Hmm? Getting me hard infront of the whole restaurant.” He reached down bundling up her long dress then pulled one of her legs up and wrapped it around him, slowly grinding himself on her. Y/n gasped at the contact, feeling herself getting wetter then before as Drew gripped her bare ass cheek in his hand while the other stayed firmly on her hip. He leaned again to kiss her again. Y/n reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck pulling him closer. Ding! They heard the elevator chimed again.

Drew pulled away from her as the elevator doors slowly started to open. Y/n quickly adjusted her dress, feeling her cheeks warm from how heated she was. She could feel herself pulse from the activities that just took place. Luckily no one was waiting for the elevator as they slowly walked out. She looked up at Drew as they made their way to his door, she couldn’t help but feel her legs get weak just by looking at him. His cheeks just as flushed as hers. They way he clenched his jaw, feeling her stare. When he reached into his pocket, Y/n looked down at the bulge in his pants, she nearly came at the sight.

As they reached his door, Y/n stepped in between him and his door, and started kissing his jaw to his neck. Her hand reached down and started palming his hard on. Drew paused his actions and groaned, placing a hand on the wall to steady himself. “So needy, baby. Couldn’t wait till we got inside?” He said reached a hand up and gripped her jaw pulling her head up to look at him. She bit her lip and shook her head. “How could I when you look this good.” She said. Drew let out a small laugh, “Oh you’re telling me.” He said giving her a peck. “Had to stop myself from taking you on the table at the restaurant.” He whispered, Y/n bit her lip, still palming him making him let a small moan. “Especially after that little stunt you pulled under that table.” He huffed. “Almost like you wanted me to lose it infront of everyone.” Y/n grinned at him. Loving this side of him. She loved antagonizing him.

“Such a bad girl, baby.” He whispered looking down as the way her hand rubbed him slowly. “Look at you, so desperate.” He placed his hand on top of hers, adding more force making him groan again. Y/n let out a chuckle. “But you love it.” She said. Drew looked back up making eye contact with her. There it is. She thought to herself. His eyes were dark and full of lust. “Oh, you’re in for it now.” He said then lifted her up on his shoulder making her giggle. “Drew!” She squealed. He unlocked the door with his keep bringing them inside his apartment. He quickly shut the door and walked over to the kitchen counter, placing Y/n on her feet against the counter.

Drew wasted no time putting his lips on hers, placing his hands on her ass bringing her close to him, making sure there was no space between them. Y/n already had her arms wrapped around his neck doing the same thing. She moaned into their kiss as he continued squeezing her. He started bundling up her dress with one hand and brought his other hand to her clothed pussy making her gasp into their kiss. “Oh fuck.” Drew groaned. “Acting all shy in public but look at you.” He pulled away from their kiss to look down at how she soaked up his fingers. “So wet n’ ready for me.” He said making her moan again. “Fuck Drew please.” She huffed. “What is it baby? Tell me what you want.” He whispered placing small pecks down her jaw to her neck. “I need you, right now.” She moaned.

Drew lifted her dress over her head and turned her around, lightly pushing her down so she leaned her stomach on the counter top. He paused at the sight, moving forward so his hips met hers. “So fucking gorgeous.” He whispered lightly slapping her ass. He loved the way she moved her hips side to side. So needy. He thought to himself. She started grinding herself on him trying to find some relief. Drew started unbuttoning his shirt, letting her continue her actions. That was until her saw her reached a hand down to touch herself through her panties. He reached under to grab her wrist to stop her. “Don’t.” He said in a firm voice. She placed her hands on the counter top and looked back at him. “M’taken too long.” She said. Drew grinned at her. “You want it?” He said antagonizing her. She nodded. “M’okay, but you’re going to take it then.” He said unbuckling belt. “Better not try to pull away when you can’t handle it anymore.” He said pulling down his pants along with his boxers, letting his hard swollen cock spring out. “You asked for it.” He said before pulling her panties to the side.

Y/n leaned back down on the counter, keeping her hands on top to steady herself. Drew rubbed the tip of his cock on her slit causing Y/n to gasp at the contact. Slowly he started inserting himself in her. Drew can feel her clench around him as she took him in completely. “Oh fuck.” Y/n moaned. Without letting her adjust to him, he started pounding into her.

All you could hear were the sounds of skin slapping against each other along with moans and groans echoing in Drew’s apartment. “So fucking wet, baby.” Drew looked down to see his cock completely glazed every time he’d pull out. “You like when I talk to you this why?” He groaned. Y/n moaned in response, unable to come up with words. All she could think about was the way his cock filled her up. The way he was starting to hit her spot. “Hm? Got you all worked up, you can’t answer me?” He asked. Still thrusting himself into her, he pulled her up so her back met his chest. She hooked her arm around his neck and turned her head to look up at him. “What’s up, baby? Can’t take it?” He asked looking at her face. It was filled with so much pleasure. They way her mouth curved into a smile, trying to respond but would be replaced with a moan. “M’fuck Drew, I’m gonna cum.” She finally let out. She moved back down to the counter, placing one arm on top for leverage and her other hand holding Drew’s wrist, feeling herself reaching her climax.

“Yeah? Cum for me, baby. C’mon.” He said pounding harder into her. Y/n felt the knot in her stomach quickly come undone as she started cuming. “F-fuck.” She moaned, gripping his wrist harder. Barely recovering from her ending point, all of a sudden drew pulled out of her and turned her around to pick her up and carried her to his sofa. “Not done with you yet.” Drew said laying her down on the couch and immediately inserting himself in her. Y/n gasped, “f-fu-too much Drew.” She groaned as he starting thrusting into her again. Drew placed one of her legs over his shoulder, giving him access to go deeper and leaned down to meet her gaze, “I told you, you were going to take it baby.” He whispered, giving her peck. “Said you wanted to play right?” He said giving her kisses down her neck to her chest. The only response he got from her were moans that echoed throughout the apartment.

He began sucking on her breast, giving them the attention they’ve been craving and brought a hand down to her pussy rubbing her clit. Y/n arched her back. “Ohh g-god, babyy.” She moaned loudly lacing her fingers in between Drew’s hair while her other hand clawed at his bicep. “M’could feel you clenching, baby. You’re so close.” He smirked sitting back up on his knees. “Fuck yes.” She managed to say holding herself up by her elbows and looked down where their bodies connected. Drew’s smirk never left his face as he slowly watched her come undone. “Oh my god. I'm c-cumming.” She moaned leaned back down with her back arched. She brought a hand down to Drew’s wrist trying to stop him from rubbing her sensitive clit. He removed her hand, placing it on her stomach. "Just like that baby, coat my fucking cock." He moaned as she came, her legs shook in the process. Drew leaned down again taking her lips in his. She let out a satified moan as they continued kissing.

Without pulling out of her, he grabbed a hold of her arms bringing her up with him. She furrowed her eyebrows at him making Drew smirk. "Ride me." he said leaning himself on the couch setting her on top of him. Y/n huffed with faint smile. "I can't." she said honestly. Drew leaned up capturing her lips again. "Thought you wanted to play, baby." he said before leaning back against the couch. "I'll help you if you can't anymore, c'mon." he said moving his hips up against hers. He's going to be the death if me. Y/n thought to herself. She leaned into Drew placing her hands on chest and shoulders for leverage as she started rocking her hips against his.

Drew let out a low moan as she continued grinding on him. He reached up and cupped one of her breast, leaning into her, he took the other breast in his mouth, sucking on her nipple. Y/n moaned placing her hands on his knees, arching her back slightly, giving Drew more access. She started moving in a up and down motion now, feeling the same knot again for the third time. "F-fuck, baby." She moaned placing a hand on her pussy as it started to feel warm from how much it was being penetrated. "You got it, baby. Doing so good." He said encouraged her holding her up from her hips, trying to relieve some of the tension on her thighs. "Taking me in so good." He said feeling the way she started clenching around him again. Drew could feel himself start to reach his ending point too. "Fuckk, come here." He said pulling her into his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck, placing her head on his shoulder. Drew wrapped an arm around her waist while the other held her up by her hip and started thrusting upwards in fast motion. "Oh my-yes, baby. Right there." Y/n moaned into his ear, unwrapping her arms from his neck and squeezed his shoulders. "Yeah? You like that, baby?" he groaned. " Yes-oh my-." She couldn’t finish her sentence. Drew already knew what she was going to say as she started clenching him harder. "Cum, baby. C'mon you got it." he said looking up at her face. He loved watching the way she came undone. He loved the way she'd arch her back with her mouth wide open, staying silent for a moment before moaning loudly as she came. Y/n gasped as she felt herself cum all over his cock again for the third time. She knew Drew was close to cumming too so with small strength she had left she started rocking her hips on him again, faster than earlier. Drew moaned gripping her hips tighter. "Ahh fuck." he groaned. "Cum in me, baby." Y/n moaned placing a hand on his jaw. Drew locked eyes with her. "F-fuck. You mean it?" he asked. Y/n smirked, "Yes, Drew. I want to feel your cum, please." She said.

Drew gripped her hips again making her grind on him even faster. It didn’t take long for him to cum in her. "Oh fuck, baby." he moaned with his eyes closed shut. He held her hips down, stopping her from moving as he shot up in her. Y/n sighed with a smile loving the feeling of his warm cum inside her.

Drew finally opened his eyes after a couple seconds, seeing the satisfied smile on Y/n's face. "That what you wanted?" He asked leaning up to kiss her. Y/n moaned against his lips. "Yes." She answered. Drew smirked. "Such a dirty girl, wanting me to cum inside you." he said leaning back down on the couch admiring the way she looked on top of him. Y/n gave him a tired smile as they locked eyes for a moment. "So fucking pretty." he added rubbing his hands on her sore thighs.

Y/n looked down noticing her panties were still on. She chuckled. “You could’ve at least taken off my underwear you know.” She said. “There was no time. Gettin’ me all worked up, faster this way.” He said. “Plus looks hotter.” He smirked. Y/n chuckled at his response. “Such a freak, babe.” She said leaning her head on his chest. “Says the one that wanted me to cum inside her.” He said. Y/n lightly smacked his chest. “Take me upstairs.” She chuckled. Drew gladly wrapped her legs around his waist and started making his way up the stairs to his room. “Round 4 in the shower?” He asked. “Alright relax, Joseph.” She said making Drew laugh.

“Well… maybe.” She said.

#drew scenarios

750 notes · View notes

amel1ee · 2 months ago

Text

“Current Boyfriend”

drew starkey x actress!reader

You’re both curled up on the couch in your shared apartment, a rare day off where neither of you is on set, flying out, or doing press. The weather outside is gray and cozy, rain pattering gently against the windows. Inside, though, it’s chaotic—because you’ve decided to film a TikTok with Drew, and he doesn’t know he’s about to be ambushed.

The camera is subtly perched on the coffee table, angled just right to catch both of you—him in a hoodie and sweatpants, you in one of his old t-shirts with your legs tucked under his. He’s sipping from a mug of coffee, blissfully unaware that you’re seconds away from disrupting his peace.

You hit record and turn to him, speaking sweetly.

“Okay, I’m gonna ask my current boyfriend some questions about me to see if he gets them all right.”

You deliver the line casually, almost too casually.

Drew pauses mid-sip, lowering the mug slowly as his eyebrows draw together. “I’m sorry,” he says, blinking. “Your what?”

You keep a straight face. “My current boyfriend.”

He tilts his head, mouth falling slightly open in a way that’s both confused and deeply offended. “Current boyfriend???”

“Yeah,” you say, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Current. Boyfriend.”

He stares at you for a solid three seconds like he’s waiting for the punchline. When you don’t offer one, he lets out a disbelieving laugh, sitting up straighter and adjusting the throw blanket over your legs.

“Oh, word?” he says, eyes narrowing. “So I’m… just the latest edition? Like a damn iPhone?”

“Basically,” you reply like this isn’t escalating fast.

Drew dramatically clutches his chest. “That’s wild. That’s real wild. Here I am, thinking I’m your man, and I’m just out here holding the title temporarily.”

You smile sweetly. “That’s right. So let’s see how well my current boyfriend knows me. First question—what’s my go-to coffee order?”

He eyes you with mock suspicion but plays along. “Iced oat milk vanilla latte, light ice, no straw, because the turtles.”

“Correct,” you say, nodding.

“Damn right,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Current boyfriend. You’re lucky I’m caffeinated.”

“Next question,” you continue, completely ignoring his growing dramatic offense. “What’s my favorite movie?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Pride and Prejudice. 2005. Keira Knightley. You force me to watch it at least three times a year.”

“And you love every second,” you grin.

“That’s beside the point,” he shoots back. “You know what? Since I’m apparently just one boyfriend in the rotating cast—”

“Oh my god,” you groan, laughing as you reach over to slap his arm lightly.

“—I’m demoting you too,” he continues. “Effective immediately, you’re no longer my girlfriend. You’re my main side piece.”

You choke. “Your WHAT?”

Drew sips his coffee again, raising an eyebrow smugly. “My main. Side. Piece. I got a whole fictional roster now. You’re in the top three, but like, don’t get comfortable.”

“DREW,” you shriek, laughing so hard your body folds over. “Not the main side piece.”

He shrugs like he’s talking about the weather. “Hey, don’t be mad. I’m just following your energy, sweetheart. Current boyfriend, main side piece—it’s giving equal chaos.”

You wipe a tear from the corner of your eye, breathless from laughing. “You are so unwell.”

“Says the woman casually demoting me to temporary status on a public platform,” he fires back. “Nah, I’m gonna start wearing a name tag that says ‘Drew: boyfriend in progress.’”

You regain some composure and lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder. He automatically shifts to accommodate you, his arm looping around your waist like it’s muscle memory.

“Okay,” you mumble into his hoodie. “You’re not temporary. You’re like… forever trial version.”

He gasps again. “You did not just call me a free trial!”

You dissolve into another fit of laughter, body shaking against his as he pretends to be personally victimized.

“Thirty-day money-back guarantee,” he mutters under his breath.

You lift your head just enough to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’m keeping you, you big baby.”

“That’s what they all say,” he deadpans.

“Drew.”

“Until the next current boyfriend comes along.”

You slap his chest lightly again, both of you still grinning like idiots.

The video ends with him tackling you sideways onto the couch, blanket tangling around your legs as you squeal.

#drew scenarios

792 notes · View notes

amel1ee · 2 months ago

Note

Drew w 🍬?

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ SWEETHEART SYNDROME

you don’t mean to start the fight.

but you don’t mean not to, either.

his feet are loud behind you. his apartment smells like bergamot and whatever cologne he swiped on this morning. your breath’s still sweet from someone else’s drink—too sugary, too cheap. maybe that’s what does it.

he shrugs off his jacket, tosses it somewhere near the couch. doesn’t look at you. “you have fun tonight?” he asks, voice low. unreadable.

you unclip your earrings. “why? you checking in on me now?”

he laughs once. not the kind sound that you’re used to. “just looked like you were having a real good time with him.”

there it is.

you set your earrings down slow, deliberate. “his name’s caleb.”

“right. caleb.” drew’s jaw ticks. he runs his hands through his tousled hair. “real friendly guy. handsy, too.” suddenly his jeans feel too tight and his body runs warm.

you roll your eyes. “he was drunk.”

“he was into you.”

“so what?” you fire back, spinning to face him. “this isn’t a thing, remember? that’s what you wanted. we don’t owe each other shit.”

his gaze flicks up. dangerous. like a ticking time bomb seconds before setting off.

“then why’d you look at me like you wanted me to care?” he scoffs, pacing back and fourth like he was contemplating something.

your stomach flips, low and ugly. you don’t answer. you shouldn’t have to.

“you were smiling,” he says, stepping closer. “laughing at his dumbass jokes. letting him touch you like that—”

“letting? jesus, drew—” your brows raise in disbelief. your muscles stiffen. he can’t want all of you, not now, not after how he made the last months feel.

“—like i haven’t had you moaning my name into my pillows for the last three months.”

silence cracks between you. it’s hot and suffocating.

“you think this is fun for me?” he says, voice all gravel. his eyes bore into yours like lasers. “watching you pretend you don’t know exactly who you belong to?”

“i don’t belong to anyone,” you snap. too fast. too loud. too unconvincing.

his eyes go black. “the hell you don’t.”

he’s on you before you can blink. a storm in a t-shirt, kissing you like he’s punishing you for even thinking about someone else. his hand finds your jaw, tilts your head just the way he likes. the kiss isn’t pretty, it’s angry, starved, desperate. a claim.

you push at his chest once. he grabs your wrist. pulls back just enough to speak against your lips.

“don’t ever say his name again.” his mouth brushes yours again, lighter yet meaner. the stubble of his beard scratches your soft cheek.

“don’t even think about him when i’m this close to you.”

you swallow hard. your voice comes out thin. “then shut me up.”

and he does. this time it’s worse. better. you hate him for it. love him for it. your spine hits the hallway wall and his hands are everywhere, tugging, grounding, greedy.

this isn’t kissing. it’s combustion.

you’ll regret this in the morning.

but right now, you pull him closer.

right now, he’s yours.

taglist ~ @ren-ni @bungurus @kayperrysinging @cupids-diner @43hughes @babygirlboeser @makiplan @ladyatwalmart @qversazex @favbrnette @xoxosblogsblog @nothingtosee333her @soft-starr @f10werfae @bibissparkles @brennanyay @grungefck

#drew scenarios

172 notes · View notes

amel1ee · 2 months ago

Text

@.drewynupdates instagram posts (before they were public)

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

drew starkey x actress!reader - @.drewynupdates instagram posts (before they were public)

#drew scenarios

238 notes · View notes

amel1ee · 3 months ago

Text

i NEED a gut wrenching, soul crushing, intense heartbreaking fanfic of marauders era /with slytherin skittles band au where the reader is the lead singer and screams silver springs to ex!marauder who’s in the band who broke her heart and stuff. i NEED that!!

#same

75 notes · View notes

amel1ee · 3 months ago

Text

screen recorded my screen while on the drew starkey x reader tag and for 1 minute straight it's minus like 4 fics all rafe

can't even find more than 4 fics for drew in the freaking tag

27 notes · View notes

amel1ee · 3 months ago

Text

Complete List of Marauder's Era Students

Tell me if I missed anyone! Under the cut because it is a very long list. I'm defining Marauder's Era as the seven years the Marauders were attending Hogwarts. Includes some fanon first names. Organised A-Z by surname. Some liberties taken with uncertain birth dates.

Betram Aubrey Duncan Ashe Avery II Andromeda Black Narcissa Black Regulus Black Sirius Black Edgar Bones Alecto Carrow Amycus Carrow Richard Carter Glenda Chittock Oscar Crabbe Dirk Cresswell Bartemius Crouch Jr. Caradoc Dearborn Dedalus Diggle Lily Evans Lucretia Fawley Benjy Fenwick Mundungus Fletcher Flilus Flitwick Florence Florence BF Florean Fortescue Cornelius Fudge Albert Gibbon Benjamin Goyle Olivia Green Gareth Greengrass Davey Gudgeon Daisy Hooklum Mafalda Hopkirk Jacob Marshall Johnson Hestia Jones Bertha Jorkins Bradley Jugson RJH King Steve Laughalot Rabastan Lestrange Rodolphus Lestrange Gilderoy Lockhart Frank Longbottom Alice Longbottom Pandora Lovegood Xenophilius Lovegood Remus Lupin Mary MacDonald Walden Macnair Lucius Malfoy Marlene Mckinnon Tarquin McTavish Dorcas Meadowes Alastar Moody Quinn Montague Mulciber II Peter Pettigrew Sturgis Podmore James Potter Quirinus Quirrell Patricia Rakepick Augustus Rookwood Evan Rosier Thorfinn Rowle Albert Runcorn Isaac Selwyn Kingsley Shacklebolt Gaspard Shingleton Severus Snape Timothy Snyde Lucinda Talkalot Tilden Toots Rupert Travers Sybill Trelawney Dolores Umbridge Emmeline Vance Emma Vanity Wilkes

#dirk cresswell

115 notes · View notes

amel1ee · 3 months ago

Text

A list of every harry potter character who I think lived in the marauders era.

This is in order from oldest to youngest and separated by years. A lot of the years are headcanons, but everything fits in the canon timeline.

If there's a character I'm missing let me know! I want this to be as comprehensive as possible. Also, send an ask if you want to know my headcanons about any of these characters, obviously some have more than others but I have at least a few for all of them!! <3

(hogwarts starts 1961 graduate 1969)

Molly Prewett

Arthur Weasley

Bilton Bilmes

(hogwarts starts 1962 graduate 1970)

Alastor Moody

Rita Skeeter

(hogwarts starts 1963 graduate 1969)

Bellatrix Black

Rodolphus Lestrange

(hogwarts starts 1964 graduate 1970)

Antonin Dolohov

Ludovic Bagman

(hogwarts starts 1965 graduate 1971)

Andromeda Black

Ted Tonks

Rabastan Lestrange

(hogwarts starts 1966 graduate 1972)

Bertha Jorkins

Otto Bagman

Lucius Malfoy

Fabian Prewett

Gideon Prewett

(hogwarts starts 1967 graduate 1973)

Narcissa Black

(hogwarts starts 1968 graduate 1974)

Frank Longbottom

Alice Fortescue

Benjy Fenwick

Caradoc Dearborn

(hogwarts starts 1969 graduate 1975)

Amos Diggory

Evelyn Zabini

Bertram Aubrey

Emma Vanity

(hogwarts starts 1970 graduate 1976)

Alecto Carrow

Felix Bones

Sybill Trelawney

Kingsley Shacklebolt

Xenophilius Lovegood

(hogwarts starts 1971 graduate 1977)

Mary MacDonald

Sirius Black

Severus Snape

Lily Evans

Remus Lupin

James Potter

Dorcas Meadowes

Charity Burbage

Edmund Avery II

Peter Pettigrew

Bruce Mulciber

Emmeline Vance

Marlene McKinnon

(hogwarts starts 1972 graduate 1978)

Wilhelm Wilkes

Dirk Cresswell

Aurora Sinistra

Amycus Carrow

Amelia Bones

Evan Rosier

Pandora Rosier

Regulus Black

Barty Crouch Jr.

(hogwarts starts 1973 graduate 1979)

Quirinus Quirrell

Gilderoy Lockhart

(hogwarts starts 1974 graduate 1980)

Edgar Bones

Hestia Jones

#dirk cresswell

99 notes · View notes

amel1ee · 5 months ago

Note

hiii <33

first i want to say that i absolutely ADORE your page on here, your writing is just wow, perfection!! i really liked your sirius story (even tho i strayed off a bit and started liking rabastan too ahahahah-) it's amazing omg

and i was wondering would you be up for writing for barty? anything with him honestly lol, but if you don't have any ideas feel free to ignore this!

SAY LESSSSSSS (I've been dying for someone to request Barty or rosekiller pls send all the requests). Also! so glad you enjoyed that fic! (I played myself and kinda fell for Rab too 😬)

I Wanna Be Yours | BCJ

feat. Barty Crouch Jr. x blackcat!reader

SUMMARY: Barty is determined to win your affection, but due to his larger-than-life personality and your aloof nature, you find it difficult to trust his intentions.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, pov switches once, a little angst and a little fluff, blackcat!reader, artist!Barty, only soft for each other, mentions of drinking and drug use, strong language, sort of insecure!reader, Barty is a giant simp

AN: i'm having my scene music renaissance, and something about that era is so Barty-coded. I have a few other songs that suit him in my mind, but I'd love to hear any ideas you guys might have!

masterlist

“Honestly, I don't know what Slughorn’s problem is. If I want to make a love potion that makes Xeno hard for four days, I can—”

“Four days and I would die of deprivation,” Xenophilius chuckled, his arm draped over Pandora's shoulders.

“Sure, but what a way to go.”

You walked beside them, half-listening to their sugar-dipped conversation, equal parts disgusted and deeply jealous. You'd never admit it, but you so badly wanted what your best friend had. Devotion, affection, complete and total acceptance. But you walked through life like a spring-loaded trap, biting the fingers off anyone that dared come close.

“Should we grab dinner before heading to the library? I'm starved,” Pandora said, turning her attention to you.

“Sure, it's probably quiet this early anyways—”

“Going to dinner, are we?” Evan bound up between Xeno and Pandora, throwing his arms over their shoulders. “I'm fucking ravenous.”

Two arms looped around your waist, hauling you back into a solid chest. The familiar scent of clove cigarettes and paint enveloped you, as if you needed any clues to know exactly who had the audacity to handle you so boldy.

“As am I,” Barty purred against the shell of your ear.

You wriggled in his hold, slapping at his forearms until he released you. “Not in the mood, Junior,” you warned, ignoring the way your stomach flipped when you met his dark eyes, eyeliner smudged along his lashes.

“Aw, don't be cross, gorgeous. You looked like you needed a hug,” he teased, falling into step between you and Pandora, slowing his natural gait considerably. He snatched your books from your arms, ignoring your protest and cradling them against his chest. He was dressed in a white dress shirt and a Slytherin vest, his tie loose and sleeves pushed up, hand-poked tattoos sprawling and dark against his forearms.

“I'm fairly certain she needs a hug as much as she needs your dumbass in her space,” Pandora said, rolling her eyes. “Which is not at all.”

“Oh, she needs me.” Barty grinned. “She just doesn't know it yet.”

“Give it a rest, Crouch,” Xeno cut in. “Keep pushing her and you'll end up on the bottom of the Black Lake.”

“Oh, how exciting! How will you do it, treasure? Stabbing? Maiming? Choking? Oh Merlin’s fuck, please say choking—”

“Maiming sounds about right,” you bit, attempting to get your books back, but he was far too tall, holding them way above your head. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction of jumping for it, and crossed your arms over your chest with a huff.

“You can maim me whenever you like,” he said, a cheeky smirk on his stupid, handsome face. “Will you do it now if I ask nicely?”

You ignored him, looking forward again.

Barty Crouch Jr. loved nothing more than fucking with you, finding the gaps in your armor and trying to pry them open. But no matter how attractive you found him, because saints was he attractive, or how endearing he could be in the in-between moments, you refused to play his game.

You would not be made a fool of, not like every other person he set his sights on and got bored with a week later.

“So are we eating or what?” Evan asked, walking backwards at the front of the group. Any student unfortunate enough to be in his path quickly scurried out of it, cowed by the Slytherin's reputation for retaliation.

You watched them shrink away from Barty too, who clearly got some sick sense of pleasure from it. He even bared his teeth at a Gryffindor that veered to close to you, flipping your bodies around so he was on the outside and you were next to Pandora again.

“I'm actually going to head back to the dorm,” you said, slowing so you fell out of line with them. “See you later?” You said to Pandora, who gave you a tight frown.

“Are you sure?” She asked, tilting her head like an avian.

“Yeah, you guys enjoy,” you said, pretending you didn't see the disappointment flash across Barty’s face as you turned on your heel, letting the opposite flow of students sweep you up and away from your friends.

The truth was, Barty scared the shit out of you. He was everything you weren't: outgoing, bold, rebellious, and just charming enough to get himself out of whatever mess he and Evan made. And for whatever reason, he was obsessed with pushing your buttons. And he did, with infuriating efficiency.

Pandora insisted it was all in good fun, that he was harmless, but you knew better. You saw the way he manipulated others to get what he wanted, the way he masked his calculation with charisma.

Barty Crouch Jr. was far from harmless, and even if he had his friends fooled, he would not fool you.

Barty's POV

Barty watched your head bob away through the crowded corridor, your books still heavy in his arms and guilt gnawing a hole in his chest.

Why couldn't he just fucking control himself? He felt like a noxious ball of energy, filling whatever available space he could, unable to contain his own impulses, a slave to his own existence.

He just wanted you so badly. You occupied every part of his mind, owned every thump of his wretched, ruined heart. He was irrevocably, intrinsically yours, but you couldn't stand him, and it was largely his own damn fault.

Because he was broken. Couldn't hold a normal conversation. Couldn't flirt in a way that wasn't deeply vulnerable, or obscene and intense. For Merlin’s sake, he'd begged you to choke him just now.

You were a fix he couldn't get, so he was suffering withdrawals from a drug he never had. He was going mad with it, the desperation for your attention. He would do anything to hear you say his name, to occupy an ounce of space in that beautiful brain, even if meant looking like an idiot. Like a psycho.

It was worth it just to have you look.

After dinner, the four of them returned to the Slytherin common room, Barty still carrying your books with a wrapped bundle on top. Every step towards your shared dorm with Pandora made his heart beat faster, a nervous sweat collecting along his spine.

Nothing made him nervous like you did.

Barty walked into the room last, his eyes immediately drifting towards your bed even though he tried to resist. You were curled up against a pile of pillows, surrounded by parchment and open books, your quill scribbling furiously across the page in your lap.

You glanced up when they entered, meeting his eyes for a split second, low-lidded and disinterested, per usual, and turned your attention back to your work.

The dismissal itched like a bug under his skin, his blood going hot and tingly. He needed you to look at him again.

He set your books on your desk and kicked off his shoes, flopping onto your bed before he really thought about it. It was softer than his, covered with quilts and pillows, and he noticed a little stuffed cat tucked away under your covers. He could smell you all around him, so sweet and warm, and whatever rationality he had left dissolved into goo.

“Who invited you?” You snapped, shoving at his shoulder with little success. A swell of affection at your pitiful attempt made his heart beat quicken, you were just so fucking cute.

He set the paper bundle on your chest. “Thought you might be hungry, sweetness,” he said, hugging one of your pillows to his chest.

Merlin, you were so beautiful when you glared at him like that. He filed the image away for later, mentally sifting through his paint collection for the perfect shade to match your pout.

You looked a bit perplexed at the package, almost angry, and his anxiety returned, fighting through the haze caused by your proximity. “You brought me food?”

He nodded, biting back ‘and dessert too’. He wanted you to actually eat the food, not throw it at his head.

Hesitantly, you unfolded the bundle, as if he'd given you something rotten, or was pulling a prank. It made his lungs squeeze with guilt. He was shitty to a lot of people, most people. But not to you, never you.

Your brow softened with relief when you realized it was just a sandwich, before quickly furrowing again. He wanted to smooth it with his lips, kiss you until it never creased with worry again.

“I'm not hungry,” you said, setting the bag on the side table. A twinge of hurt stabbed between his ribs, but didn't let his smile falter. He knew that's what you would say. And he also knew you would eat it later, when no one was around to see you accept a small gesture of kindness.

That was good enough for him.

You slid out of your bed, leaving his side cold, and he stretched out against your sheets, wallowing in your residual warmth like a niffler in a pile of gold.

The others chatted around you, Xeno lighting up a joint by the cracked window, but you sat down at your desk, turning back to your work and tuning them out.

Barty sighed, letting his eyes flutter closed so he could pretend he was wrapped in you body instead of your sheets, his nose buried into your hair instead of your pillow.

Reader's POV

You and Pandora walked arm in arm into the library, chatting about the idiots in your Transfiguration class. You were headed to your usual spot at the back of library, a collection of over stuffed chairs by a stained glass window overlooking the Forbidden Forest, and stopped short when you saw Regulus, Evan, and Barty already there.

Barty was reclined in the window, his long legs propped up against the other side, a sketchbook in his lap, quill between his teeth.

“Excuse the hell out of me,” Pandora said, startling them all from their abnormal quiet.

Barty's head snapped up, his eyes immediately landing on you, and he about fell out of the window.

“What? Like you own this table?” Evan drawled, not looking up from his book,his expensive loafers propped up on the table.

“Yes,” Pandora shot back, dropping down beside him and pulling out her books with clear agitation. "So if you're staying, keep your mouth shut."

Evan mimed zipping his lips and crossed his heart. Barty just turned back to his sketchbook instead of sauntering over to you with some cheeky quip on his tongue.

A prickle of uncertainty climbed your neck. Perhaps you really had upset him about that sandwich. You wish you hadn't said you were hungry as soon as it came out of your mouth, but you were too proud to apologize. You were so stunned by the gesture, so overwhelmed by his body pressed against you, his warmth mixing with yours, that you clammed up. Shut him down.

But even now, you couldn't bring yourself to approach him and apologize. Thank him. So, you sat down beside Regulus, the only other member of the group you found tolerable most of the time, and he greeted you with a dip of his chin.

You pulled out your work, determined to pretend Barty wasn't there at all.

Of course, you failed. Your eye kept wandering back to him, his sharp jaw silhouetted by the light, his pierced brow furrowed in concentration as his hand moved across the page, silver rings adorning ink stained fingers. He was dressed down today, jeans and Slytherin sweater, the collar of his shirt underneath it crooked.

After an hour or so of quiet, he dozed off, his head lolled against the window, quill dangling loosely in his fingers. Barty did that a lot, slept in unusual places at unusual times when the quiet dragged on a little too long. Evan mentioned once that Barty struggled to sleep at night, insomnia or something, and even the draughts Madam Pomfry made him only worked sometimes.

Unable to quell your curiosity, you got up to retrieve another book, brushing past him and sparing a glance down at his sketchbook. Your own face stared back at you, framed with rough sketches of your hands, your eyes, the bow of your lips.

Your heart gave a painful lurch, a burst of affection making your bones soften, and you nearly stumbled over the carpet, catching yourself on the bookshelf at the last second.

You hurried down another row, praying none of your friends saw you, and braced yourself against the shelf.

Did Barty like you? Like, actually like you? You couldn't fathom it. It didn't make sense. You weren't kind to him, or outgoing, or special. He was all of those things and more, the most fascinating, maddening, all-consuming person you'd ever met in your life.

Surely, he didn't see all of those things in you? But why would he draw you if he didn't see something of interest? Something he liked?

Fuck, you couldn't breathe in this stuffy library. You needed air.

You steeled yourself and walked back to the table, collecting your things.

“Something wrong, y/n?” Regulus asked, always too perceptive, and Barty stirred, picking his head up from the wall to peer at you through drowsy eyes.

“Nothing, I—”

Barty slid off the window and you lost your train of thought, heat scorching your cheeks. “Rushing off to hang out with your more interesting friends?” Barty asked, his voice a little gruff from his brief nap.

“More interesting friends? Not at Hogwarts,” Evan chuckled. “We're as interesting as it gets.”

“If you're bored, babygirl, all you had to was say so,” Barty hummed, striding up to you.

You placed a hand on his sternum to stop him from coming any closer, ignoring the flare of heat that accompanied the contact. “You were asleep five seconds ago,” you argued.

“Asleep and dreaming of all the ways I could keep you entertained.” He grinned, wicked and sharp, and the simmering heat spread to your lower belly, your heart beating fast.

“What are you, a fucking court jester?” You bit, unable to stop your arm bending as he pushed closer, the smell of ink and his cologne making your mouth water.

“I'm whatever you want me to be,” he flirted, and Regulus and Pandora groaned in unison.

“Will you leave her the fuck alone?” Regulus snapped, tugging Barty back by a belt loop. “She's not interested in your act, Junior.”

“Act?” Barty quirked a brow. “I’m dead serious.”

“Don't talk about his brother that way!” Evan shouted, far too excited to make the over-used joke once again, and you rolled your eyes. Apparently, the rare quiet time had come to an end.

“I don't give a fuck about his brother!”

“I don't give a fuck about you!”

“Oh, so you're a bitch and a liar?”

“I'm not a bitch, you cunt!”

“I'll see you guys at the party later,” you said, using their bickering as your window of escape. You all but fled the library, desperate for some fresh air and clarity.

If Barty sincerely liked you…did that change anything? Was there a way to know for sure how he felt? You didn't even know how you felt, not really. You'd never let yourself really consider it for fear of inevitable disappointment.

Sure, you found him attractive, everyone did. And yes, despite yourself you thought he was funny and sweet, in his own, odd way. And he was especially sweet to you. He never brought your other friends food, or waited for them after class, or snuggled in their beds. Well, besides Evan.

He didn't really touch anyone else either. But if you were close enough, as he often ensured you were, he was touching you whenever he could. Knocked together knees in the Great Hall, leaning on you during class no matter how many times you shoved him off, throwing his arms over your shoulder when it was cold, wrapping his pinky around yours in a particularly crowded hall.

Yes, his words were often obnoxious and bordering on insane, but his actions…his actions were sincere, thoughtful, almost tender.

Was that the real Barty?

Maybe you had been fooled just like everyone else into thinking he was nothing more than a joker, a rowdy troublemaker, when the reality was so much deeper.

Had you been all wrong about him?

By the time you and Pandora left your dorm room to join the party, the common room was a madhouse. Green lights flashed in time with the thumping bass, bodies dancing and mingling in every available spot on the dancefloor, a haze of smoke and glitter over their heads.

You were wearing a black mini dress and heels, held together by string and a prayer. Your hair hung in loose waves down your back, your eyeliner sharp and lips painted. You knew you looked good, lethal in the best way, but all you could think about was Barty's reaction.

Would he like it? Hate it? Or even worse, not even notice?

Together, you and Pandora moved through the crowd towards your friends usual place at the far side of the common room.

Of course, you spotted Barty first. He was leaning against the bar, dressed in all black, tailored trousers and a sleeveless undershirt. Apparently he ditched his actual shirt before you arrived in favor of displaying his countless tattoos, most of them done by his own hand. His hair was dark with pomade and pushed off of his face, glitter clinging to the sweat along his lean chest and shoulders.

He looked like a wet fucking dream.

Xeno let out a low whistle when you and Pandora stepped out from the crowd, drawing Barty's attention from Evan and Dorcas.

His jaw dropped instantly and with a dramatic flourish, he pretended to faint into Evan's arms, clutching at his heart. Despite yourself, you giggled, and Pandora shot you a surprised look through a gap in her boyfriends embrace.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Barty gasped, sliding out of Evan's arms and onto his knees. “Look at—baby, look at you!”

You flushed under the attention, your blood heating as it raced through your veins, but you just rolled your eyes at him, a new confidence blooming in your chest. He loved it.

You strode over to the bar, closing his mouth with a finger, and leaned against the counter. “Firewhisky?” You asked the student bartending, and they stared back at you, dumbstruck, before rushing to collect your drink.

Barty leaned against your legs, his cheek against your thigh. “What are you doing to me?” He whined up at you, feeding into your surge of confidence.

You pushed his head away, tugging at the roots of his hair before releasing him, and he groaned, a low, panty-melting sound. “I'm not doing anything. You're just insufferable,” you chastised, accepting your drink.

“And you're beautiful,” he said, sounding almost reverent, and you nearly choked on your drink.

“Fuck off and drool on someone else, yeah?” You snapped, overwhelmed by his candor, even though it was exactly what you thought you wanted.

Fuck, you didn't know what you wanted. And even when you did, it seemed your subconscious wasn't always in agreement. You had wanted him to drool over you. He was literally on his knees, but some broken part of your brain couldn’t accept it. So you pushed him away.

“C’mon, you simpering mutt,” Evan said, hauling Barty up. “I think I saw a kegger over there.”

Barty started to protest, but Evan and Regulus dragged him away.

“You should have some mercy,” Xeno said, leaning on the bar beside you.

“Oh?” You raised a brow at him, taking a sip of whisky.

“Poor prick is besotted,” Dorcas supplied.

“He's full of shit,” you bit, that panicky feeling crawling up your spine.

Pandora shook her head, and your eyes widened. “It's true, I’ve never seen him so fucked up over someone before.”

“He's not the obsessive type. Not when it comes to dating, at least. He loses interest as often as he changes his underwear. But he's been stuck on you for months,” Dorcas said.

“Yeah, he usually obsesses over like quill tips, and arson—”

“You guys are serious?” You asked, cutting off Xeno. “You think he actually likes me?”

They all stare at you, dumbfounded.

“You can't tell?” Pandora asked, grabbing your face and shaking you. “Babe, he's absolutely gone for you.”

“Like, gone gone,” Dorcas added.

“But it's Barty, I mean—he’s never serious—”

“Exactly, that's what makes it so obvious!” Pandora cried, exasperated. “I thought you knew!”

“Why would you think that!” You shouted back.

“Because he says it constantly!” Your friends yell in unison.

“He was on his knees, y/n. Like literally on his knees,” Xeno said, shaking his head. “It doesn't get much more devoted than that.”

Devoted. It clicked then, the signs you'd been brushing off, refusing to see clearly because of your own veil of distrust. Because you didn’t allow yourself to accept the truth out of fear. Barty had been showing you for months how he felt, and not just in his words, in his actions. Bringing you food when you were hungry, walking you from class to class, meeting your barbs and verbal lashes with a smile.

He’d been wearing his heart on his sleeve this entire time, and all you’d done is punish him for it.

Oh, fuck. How could you be so blind?

You set your drink on the bar and pushed through your friends, ignoring their calls as you forced your way through the crowd, searching for Barty in the sea of green. You found him standing with Evan and few other members of the Quidditch team, cheering while a fifth year shotgunned a dandelion draught.

“Barty!” You shouted over the roar, grabbing his wrist.

He turned, his eyes widening in surprise. “Y/n? Are you alr—where are we going?”

You dragged him into a shadowed alcove, slightly hidden from the party. Your heart was pounding in your ears, tears already burning behind your eyes. “Be honest with me,” you said, forcing yourself to hold his gaze.

“Always,” he said automatically, brow heavy with uncertainty.

“How do you feel about me?” You asked.

Understanding dawned, and Barty's expression melted into something painfully soft, painfully sincere. “I just wanna be yours.”

The admission stole the air from your lungs, made your heart freeze in place. "M-mine?"

“Yours,” he breathed, his hands finding your waist, grip tight as desperation filled his eyes. “Please, let me be yours.” He lowered to his knees again, his head by your navel. “I promise—I promise I’ll be good, if you’ll just give me a chance too—”

You leaned down and grabbed the silver chain around his throat like a collar, dragging his mouth to yours in a fervid, frantic kiss. He surged upwards, lifting you into the air and crushing you between his body and the wall, forcing air out of your lungs. You wrapped your legs around his narrow hips as his tongue pried open your mouth, desperate to taste you. Desire pumped through you, scalding hot and more potent than the whisky, making your head spin, your skin tingle.

You tugged at his hair, drawing him closer, and he whimpered low in his throat. Your cunt clenched at the sound, your thoughts turning singular: make him beg. Your tongue traced his lips, tasting beer and cigarette smoke, and you sucked his lower lip between your teeth, biting hard before soothing it with your tongue.

His hips canted up into your core, his hands moving down to squeeze your ass beneath your dress and grind your core against him. You gasped, breaking the kiss for a moment, and he seized the opportunity to pillage your mouth again, licking at your teeth and the roof of your mouth.

“Your dorm,” you panted, yanking his head back by the roots of his hair.

He didn’t hesitate, throwing you up and over his shoulder in a startling feat of strength.

“Barty!” you squealed, giggling and slapping at his back while he carried you to the stairs, his hand keeping your dress in place so you didn’t flash anyone. He couldn’t have made it any more obvious what was happening, and you found that you didn’t care. If you were going to be with Barty, you were going to have to get used to being loved out loud.

“Look at her ass again, see what happens!” You heard him bark, his voice a rumble through his ribcage, and you rolled your eyes, smiling to yourself as he carried you up the stairs.

A moment later, you were being tossed roughly onto his bed, the door slamming shut with a muttered alohomora. Barty crawled up your body, his dark eyes flashing with a feral hunger that made your pussy purr, and he dove into your neck with his teeth and tongue, making you gasp and arch into his body, your whole body alight with pleasure.

“Easy, baby,” you cooed, petting his hair to try and settle his frantic affection. Poor thing couldn’t seem to control himself, so worked up he was rutting against your thigh. “I’m not going anywhere, darling, relax.”

He whined into your neck, clutching at the fat of your lovehandles. “Need you so bad,” he groaned. “M’sorry, can’t help myself.”

You rolled over him, straddling his hips with yours. “I know, love. Just sit still and be good for me, yeah?”

He nodded vigorously, watching you kiss down his body with heavy-lidded eyes. You pushed up the hem of his undershirt, licking a stripe between the valley of his abdomen muscles, admiring the tattoos you’d only gotten glimpses of.

“So pretty, Bat,” you purred, and felt his cock twitch against your chest, his head falling back against the pillows. “Been wanting me this whole time?”

“Yes, so badly—fuck, treasure, please—” he moaned when you grazed your teeth along his hipbone, sucking the skin into your mouth to leave a mark. His hand tangled in your hair, rings cool against your scalp, and you released his skin with a pop, admiring the plum-colored bruise left behind. “I’m getting that tattooed,” he panted, dragging a thumb over your spit slick lips. “Swear to Salazar.”

You giggled, shifting further down to undo his trousers and finding that he apparently skipped boxers. His cock sprung out to slap against this stomach, rigid and flushed, a bead of pearly precum dripping down to his navel. Gently, you traced a finger over the protruding veins along his shaft, admiring him.

Barty hissed through his teeth, his muscles tensing to keep still.

“Good boy,” you praised, wrapping your hand loosely around him, pumping once, twice without any real pressure. He was long and slightly curved, gorgeous, and you couldn’t resist dragging your tongue up the root of him, feeling the velvety texture against your lips.

“Fucking shit, you’re going to kill me.” His fingers tightened in your hair as you lapped at the head, savoring the salty taste of him.

You looked up at him through your lashes, his head thrown back, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths, every muscle flexed tight. Fighting for his life to hold still.

“Baby,” he whined when you stopped, picking up his head to look down at you.

“Say your mine,” you ordered, hovering just over his cock, holding his wild-eyed gaze.

“I’m yours. I’m so fucking yours.”

You smiled and wrapped your lips around him, swallowing down as much of him as you could manage and he cried out, rough and breathless with relief. You bobbed up and down on his length, tongue pressing against the root of his cock and using your hand to stroke what you couldn’t reach, and you watched his soul leave his body.

“Baby, baby, baby,” he chanted, using your hair to lift and lower you a little faster, his control starting to falter as you pulled him apart. “Bloody hell, you’re way too good at this. What the fuck��oh saints. Your mouth feels like fucking heaven.”

You hummed in response, letting him push you further down, gagging on his length before he released you and you pulled off of him to catch your breath, a trail of drool connecting your lips and his head.

Barty groaned. “Never mind, I’m getting that tattooed. Right on my fucking forehead so every time I look in the mirror—”

You climbed back up his body and draped yourself over him, silencing him with a sloppy kiss, his tongue laving across your lips to taste himself. “Do you ever stop talking?” you teased, kissing the corner of his mouth, his cheekbone, his temple.

In a quick movement, he flipped you beneath him. “There’s one sure-fire way to shut me up,” he purred against your ear before kissing and licking down your neck and chest. Every pass of his lips was electric, a bolt of pleasure straight your weeping pussy, swollen against your panties and desperate for attention. “This dress,” he murmured, tracing the swell of your breast with his tongue. “Wear it for anyone in particular?”

“I wanted to see your reaction,” you admitted, gasping when his big hand came up to knead your tit, fingertips still a little stained from sketching. His rings were harsh against your skin, and you arched into him, relishing in his greedy touch.

“Sent me to my knees, sweetheart. Damn near killed me.” He pulled the top of you dress down, your tits spilling free, and he took one pert nipple into his mouth, lashing it with his tongue while he teased the other with his hand.

You keened, hands flying into his shaggy hair. Every pull of his mouth went straight to your cunt, making your hips buck against his thigh. He shifted to press his leg harder against you, letting you chase your pleasure, and hummed in approval against your chest.

The friction was amazing, buzzy heat spilling under your skin and making you moan and cling tighter to him, trembling with unspent energy. “Fuck, Barty—please.” You weren’t sure what you were begging for, but he seemed to understand you perfectly.

“Say your mine, treasure,” he said, biting at the side of your breast, and you yelped.

“Yes, Barty! All yours! Just please—”

He pushed two fingers into your mouth, silencing you while he shifted down your body. Without warning, he buried his face between your legs, licking and sucking at your pussy through your panties with an eagerness that made your eyes cross, your teeth sink down on his digits.

“So fucking sweet, baby. Melting like sugar f’me.” He yanked your panties down your legs and returned to his feasting, laving his long tongue through you before sucking hard at you clit. He slipped his fingers from your mouth, needing both hands to spread you open for his consumption.

Your mind was wiped clean, erased completely by all-consuming bliss as he practically mauled your pussy, vicious in his pursuit of your pleasure. His tongue fucked into you, the slurping loud and lewd, while he massaged your clit with his thumb. You dug your nails into his sheets, trying to stifle your screams into his pillow.

"So responsive, baby. Ready for more?" He asked, easing his middle finger inside of your clenching channel, curling against the gooey spot behind your pelvic bone that made you melt into the mattress. Adding a second finger, he started nursing your clit again, letting his dexterous artist’s fingers coax you open.

Once you were moaning, loose and languid against the mattress, he ramped back up, working your g-spot like it stole something from him he was hellbent on getting back. He dragged his teeth against your clit, soothing the flare of pain with his tongue, and you felt yourself draw tight, teetering on the edge of oblivion.

“Barty—oh God, I’m going to come—oh fuck, oh fuck!” You lifted almost completely off the bed as your orgasm slammed into you, ripping through sinnew and bone to consume your heart, devour you entirely.

Barty slowed his ministrations, dragging his tongue through your spasming pussy with long, lush licks, his hold tight on your thighs when you started to inch away from him, your body twitching and shaking as you came down from your high.

“That’s my treasure, so fucking gorgeous when you come for me,” he hummed, smiling against your skin, and nuzzled his nose against your clit while he withdrew his fingers, making you jump and whine. “Not so mean now, are you, sweetness?”

You shook your head, trembling and weak, completely boneless beneath him.

"So soft for me, hm?" He dragged you down the bed, throwing one of your calves over his shoulder while he swiped the head of his cock through your messy slit. “Better hold onto something, darling. You've got me at the end of my leash.”

You wrapped your hands around the bars of his headboard and he grinned, a wicked slash across his handsome face.

“Fuck, I knew you were perfect for me.” He notched his cock at your entrance and with a smooth roll of his hips, buried himself to the hilt. You both cried out, the fullness, the stretch more intense than anything you’d felt before. “I was fucking made for you, baby,” he groaned, dragging his hips back before snapping them forward, your pussy fluttering around him.

“Fuck, B, feels so good,” you mewled, rocking your hips to meet his thrust for thrust, the bed creaking loudly beneath you.

He used his hold on your elevated leg to lift your hips off the bed, ratcheting up to a punishing pace, making you scream and thrash on the bed while he fucked you with every ounce of desperation and determination he’d harbored over the last few months. His teeth sunk into your calf, hard enough to send a bolt of pain down your leg and make you cry out, heightening the pleasure radiating from your core until you were teetering on the edge again, every graze of his cockhead against your cervix winding you tighter, higher—

“Shit, baby, I’m gonna come soon,” he grunted, his thrusts growing sloppy, erratic and rough, and you could only nod. “Can feel it, tres. C’mon, babygirl, come with me. Please, need to feel you come around me, m’dying for it, please, please—”

You came with a scream, your vision whiting out as sunlight blazed through you, eviscerating every ounce of tension, trepidation, fear, and leaving you a beacon of light, nothing but giddy, delirious stardust.

“Fuck, yes, that’s it—fuck!” Barty came a heartbeat after you, the swelling and throbbing of his cock as he painted your inside white prolonging your release, wringing every drop of pleasure from you until you both collapsed onto the bed, chests heaving and sticky with sweat, the glitter from his skin decorating yours.

You reached for him, trembling and raw, and he gathered you into his chest, kissing your cheeks and forehead with a dizzying gentleness. “Barty,” you breathed, hands curling against his chest, too overwhelmed with feeling to say anything else.

“I’m yours,” he whispered, cradling your face to bring your gaze to his. “I’m yours.”

You nodded, leaning forward to kiss him, taste him again, letting the warmth of his body, the heavy beat of his heart, ground you in the reality of this moment. Barty was yours, and you were his. And you were safe. He wanted you despite your attitude, your armor, your callousness. He wanted you exactly as you were, more than happy to lay in the shadows with you, or draw you out into his light to dance.

“And I’m yours,” you breathed against his lips, and he smiled.

“I'll be right back,” he murmured, pressing a delicate kiss to your head before flying out of bed and wrenching open the door, his cock barely stuffed back into his pants. “SHE’S FUCKING MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNEEEEEEE!” He screamed down the stairs to the party.

A chorus of cheers rang out, reaching you from the common room. You buried your face into his pillow, laughter bubbling up despite the embarrassment scorching your cheeks.

Barty whirled around, a maniac’s grin on his face, and he dove back into bed, determined to stake his claim as many times as possible before sunrise.

Thank you for reading!

#faves

2K notes · View notes