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𝐈𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 a video game. They had been searching through Tumblr, looking at a few Oneshots here and there. However they found a suggestion for a video game. It was a demon slayer dating sim, however both the post and the game didn't gain too much traction.
So out of curiosity, they moved to actually play the game. It had to be said, it was a complete crim that the game was underrated. The art and gameplay was absolutely beautiful.
The dating sim took place in the academy version of the anime, however it was structured differently from the canon version. Almost all of the characters being students, allowing one to interact with any of the characters.
However the dating sim functioned as a free roam, one could choose their classes and wander anywhere on the map. There were also a few special items around the school that did different things. And of course they went about collecting whatever they could.
And finally they found two items in particular. A beautiful white crystal in the shape of a sun and a golden ring with a beautiful red crystal in the shape of a heart.
“Interesting...” They hummed out, before moving to turn their phone off. That was enough screen time for the night. They still had work tomorrow and as much as they loved the game.
They needed more money-
....
Yeah that's how it had started. It all started with that weird sun item. Now they blinked and glanced around. The bedroom was familiar, but certainly not their bedroom. They were left sitting up in bed, rubbing their head and looking around..
Surely this was just a vivid dream, they'd backtracked everything until they had went to sleep. But moving to pinch their arm, the pain they felt was all too real..
“ah.. fuck..” They breathed out with confusion, hesitantly moving to get out of bed.
“This.. is my room from the dating sim..” Of course they knew this bedroom all too well. It was originally just something they'd seen on their phone screen. It was also a room they had spent time carefully customizing, seeing as it was an option.
Truly a fun game.
“Can I really complain now that I'm in it..” They sighed out, moving to head towards the closet. Well there was some reasonable complaints. Probably not being able to see friends or family any longer. But it wasn't like they were super close to their family anyways. Just a certain few. Friends, probably a big complaint.
But they aren't a genius. If they're stuck, how are they expected to find their way back. What, fight? They didn't come from some unreasonable anime world, where fighting in such manners was normal. They came from the real world and something like this was out of their hands.
They weren't going to be unreasonable, mourning in silence was all they could really do.
“Actually.. I never got to look at that other item...” They hummed in thought, before moving to look around the room. They were already dressed in the uniform, which they found to be quite pleasing to the eye. Honestly, they looked amazing in it, they knew, no one had to tell them~
“Here we are..” Humming calmly, they pulled the ring from the nightstand besides the bed. It was still perfectly in tact and the beautiful red crystal faintly glowed.
“That's quite ominous~” They hummed while observing the ring, before they could suddenly hear a mechanical voice ring in their head.
‘Legendary Rare Item: Crimson Heart. Placing this item on a love interest will max out all love and affection stats. The longer it is on a love interest, the deeper the love will grow. Caution for love can dip into the deep waters of obsession.’
“Really now~” See now they knew this wasn't a game any longer, this was their life. However it was only fair they got what they wished for, after all they were ripped away from everything they knew~
“Hmm... And I think I know exactly what I want~” They never really were able to get up Yoriichi's love and affection levels. That was always quite a struggle. Smiling with a hum, they moved to carefully put the ring into their blazer pocket..
Time to go to school~
....
“Tsugikuni-San, how have you been~” They happily spoke, moving to lean into Yoriichi's view. Calmly, Yoriichi looked up from the book he was reading and up at them.
“Hello [Yn].. I have been well...” Yoriichi calmly answered as he moved to flip the page of the book he was reading. Picking up a book mark, he moved to place it between the pages he was on. Closing the book, he continued speaking while placing the book onto his desk.
“Did you need something...?” [Yn] simply smiled at this, their gaze not once leaving Yoriichi. They couldn't have him escaping their web now could they~
“I wanted to give you a gift. You've helped me so much and you've been there for me whenever I needed you.” [Yn] began sincerely, moving to stand up straight and tilting their head to the side. Being able to conduct their character however they wished in the game, was perfect for the set up of this item. Staying calm during this was honestly the key to this succeeding.
“There's no need to give me a gift.. it's only right to help you..” Yoriichi calmly spoke, raising a hand in a gesture of denial. He was kind to everyone, he didn't see the need for a gift to be given. It was only logical to be kind was it not.
“I have to. My mother would be rolling in her grave if I didn't show my appreciation for someone who's helped me so much.” [Yn] insisted while shaking their head and giving Yoriichi a gentle smile. Well that wasn't entirely a lie. With how much their mother liked to keep up appearances, they'd be scolded like no tomorrow.
“please take this, it's something I hold very dear to me. I'd feel better if you had it, I feel that you'll be able to take care of it better than I could.” With that, they presented the ring to Yoriichi. The ring now looked a bit more worn, and that was something they had made sure to do.
“I'm not one for jewelry and honestly, I feel like this thing might fall apart if I continue to keep it.” [Yn] chuckled out while rubbing the back of their neck. Yoriichi's gaze went from [Yn] and down towards the ring. It did look worn, but it was still beautiful. Perhaps he could help fix the ring, to ease any worry.
“Alright-” He began, before he had been cut off by an enthusiastic [Yn].
“Thank you so much Tsugikuni-san! I really appreciate it! Please keep it safe for me!” They happily thanked, moving to gently take a hold of Yoriichi's hands. Quickly, the ring was slipped onto Yoriichi's finger and he hadn't seemed all that surprised. Even outside of the game, [Yn] would give Yoriichi things and place things on him, like funny hats.
But Yoriichi who was about to speak, found his words caught in his throat. Oddly, his heart began to race and his eyes widened.
“I-...” Yoriichi's body began to shake a bit and his vision began to darken. He could see [Yn]'s concerned expression, and feel them moving to firmly hold his shoulders.
“Tsugikuni-san are you alright?” They asked with concern, white Yoriichi felt his body sway.. This was odd, what was happening..
No..
It happened the moment the ring was slipped onto his finger. Something was wrong. But before he could speak or take action, his consciousness faded.
“Tsugikuni-san!?” [Yn] shouted with worry, moving to gently catch Yoriichi into their arms....
Perfect~
....
Slowly Yoriichi began to open his eyes, finding himself staring up at a white ceiling. His body still felt weird.. and he could still feel the ring around his finger. Blinking, he immediately moved to sit up and try to remove the ring. However before he could raise his hand towards the hand with the ring, it was grabbed.
“Tsugikuni-san I'm so glad you're awake, you had me so worried.” His gaze shifted over to the person that sat besides him. It was [Yn].
“...” There wasn't much to say to them, whatever they'd done was with the intent to harm him. However before he could try to pull away, he felt his body flinch. His eyes slightly widened once more. His heart was racing once more, seeing [Yn] Before him.
“Are you alright Tsugikuni-san?” They asked with concern, leaning closer to him. He tried to move back, but he couldn't bring himself to move. It's like his body was not in sync with his mind. He knew what he wanted to do, but his body, not even his body's deep instincts listened.
“Tsugikuni-san?” [Yn] spoke once more, one of their hands finding their way to his cheek. They were very pleased to find Yoriichi practically shaking at their touch. The ring worked better than they'd thought. But clearly Yoriichi still had some rational thoughts..
That could be fixed could it now~?
“please...” Yoriichi began, finally managing to close his eyes. Taking in a shakey breath, he turned his head away from [Yn]'s touch. This ring, he didn't know what it was or how it was making his body act this way. But it wasn't any good...
He even found his rational thoughts slipping, wanting to lean into [Yn]'s touch.
“let me go..” Yoriichi breathed out, trying his best to keep his eyes closed and gaze away from [Yn].. [Yn] Simply stayed silent, before their hand lowered. However they did not release Yoriichi's hand. Yoriichi taking off the ring would be an issue...
“You don't seem well Tsugikuni-san.. your brother has already gone home for the day.. I'll be sure to stay here to take care of you and keep you company.” [Yn] calmly reassured, watching the way Yoriichi's body seemed to involuntary tense.
They were going to make sure by tomorrow, that Yoriichi fully belonged to them~
Tutorial: How to avoid getting second dates (fail)
summary: you do all your best to give off the worst impression somehow it backfires?
Warnings: mature themes (suggestive jokes), not profread, ooc, spelling and grammar mistakes and more.
A/N: I’m so sorry for not posting i just didn’t have the energy.
You have a feeling your parents really hate you- with the way they're smiling at you it really leaves no option for a second choice.
You close the door behind you and simply stare in front of the bizzare scene laid ahead of you.
Gulp.
Your mum and dad sitting nicely with a blue folder laid on the table. You honestly don’t know what’s scarier..them smiling at you like that or whatever that folder contains.
“Hey sweetheart..how was your day..?” Your dad asks you.
Okay now there was seriously something wrong- your parents rarely paid attention to you they mostly think of you as some asset that been on the shelf for way too long always comparing you to your other relatives about their accomplishments (which happened to be them being married or popping out kids what a suprise). So this was seriously new.
You try to conjure up any explanation of why this may occur but all you can think about is how it’s a random Monday- there’s really nothing special. Pushing your thoughts behind you reply:
“It’s all good..why is something the matter?”
As if this dreadful day couldn’t get worse your mother responds with a simple ‘nothing silly why would you think that!’
Okay yeah none of this was adding up.
So you decide to take the risk.
“Okay then what’s up with the folder?”
Your mum and dad exchange glances at each other and your dad decided to finally bite.
“Sweetheart, we think it’s time for you to get married and make us proud.”
You seriously shouldn’t have asked them after all ‘curiosity kills the cat’.
The coffee you drank this morning was nearly about to come out your nose.
“Absolutely not!”
Your parents didn’t even flinch it was as if they rehearsed for this.
Your mother decides to take your father’s place and continue.
“Listen to use dear- they’re all good men come from rich respectable families.”
“Ma..this is 2026..arranged marriages really?” You retort.
“It will be good for our company! It’s time you start to make us proud instead of loitering around! Plus you saw your cousin yuki she was so happy!”
“She was crying about how toxic her marriage was last weekend..”
“Yes but at-least she has cash to wipe her tears!”
Before this argument could escalate your dad decided it was the time to intervene- gently taking off his glasses and placing it on the table and said:
“Then we will need to reconsider who will be inheriting our company”
Did your own dad just threaten you? Of course he did.
You in fact did not want to lose your job because that was the only thing that kept you from living in a rented apartment only surviving of instant ramen.
So you quickly put a stop to all the insults flowing through your brain and said “when do we start!”
“Perfect!” Your mum exclaimed, “we'll let you take a look at the files!”
FILES?
They had files on these men..why wouldn’t they.
After all what screams true love than money…
x—x—x—x
3 strangers names: Michikatsu Tsugikuni, Hakuju Soyama, and Douma (bear with me idk his last name)
All of them come from perfectly respectable families (+ being rich). No criminal records (atleast known of). And all of them being exceptionally good looking!
If your parents really wanted you to do this- then you were..just not in the way they would expect you too.
And that’s exactly where your fool proof plan was set!
x—x—x—x
Folder 1:
Michikatsu Tsugikuni
Age: 28
CEO of luxury hotel(s) all of the being international
Abut the thing that caught your eye was his picture. He looked gorgeous- long black hair tied up, bangs shaping his face and wearing a black suit from Savile Row Bespoke. This man screamed old money. But what scared you most was his expression- he looked utterly bored. As if done with woken throwing them selves at him.
Criminal records: None (but was accused of being in charge of an underground smuggling operation(s), and suspected ties to a criminal gang named ‘12 kizuki’- but was quickly shut down)
Yikes. This man was scary.
Operation 1: Gold digger + bimbo combo
You come in wearing every piece of designer clothing you own. Gucci classes. Birkin bag. You name it.
Michikatsu firmly shakes your hand and pulls out your chair for you and sit across you.
Dropping your bag on the table with a heavy thunk you initiate the conversation by saying “Hi! I’m so sorry for being late.”
He simply nods and promptly reminds me you to order something.
Absolutely no expression on his face. No disappointment. Just nothing.
“Wow..this place is quite fancy, you must have paid a lot for a reservation here!.”
You lean forward batting your lashes.
“Yes.”
Wow. No reaction?
Time to pull out the big guns.
“Are you rich? I looked you up on social media and you guys scream old money..so how’s that like?”
His eyebrow raises slightly “Is that really relevant?” His expression forming into one of disbelief.
“Well yeah! I need to know if you’re rich to know if our lifestyles are compatible!” You simply smile.
Michikatsu looks like you just said India wasn’t a part of Asia.
“It’s okay if you’re not!” You laugh, “I believe personality is what truly matters!”
Michikatsu looks like he’s about to crack.
Eventually the waiter comes and your order the most expensive thing.
“So..I just love quality things especially wine I can’t believe people confuse Moët & Chandon with Veuve Clicquot!”The last wine you had was bought from your grocery market.
Michikatsu simply nods.
“Would you like me to pour you some?”
Without waiting for his response you simply pour the wine into his cup.
“You are quite bold..” he finally says after the prolonged silence oh but his expression is one that makes you wanna crawl 6 ft under.
“Thanks!” You say while sipping on your wine. “After all honesty is important, I bring a lot to this relationship and I expect a lot.”
He raises his eyebrow? “And what exactly do you bring to this relationship?”
You gesture to your self. “I thought it was obvious?” You take another sip. “After all I spent a whopping 20k on these babies!”
“Do you want to know their names?” You don’t wait. “I call them Rachel and Samantha”.
Michikatsu looks at you and his cup and gulps it down in one go.
Eventually both of you finish your meal.
He looked like he’s was about to kill you.
“Well that was fun,” you say grabbing your designer bag.
“We should do that again..call me”
He looks at you as if you spoke nonsense.
1 down.
x—x—x—x
Folder 2:
Hakuji Soyama
Age: 27
CEO to a worldwide AI company
Impeccable reputation. Perfectly responsible and respectable. He was the literal definition of “responsible adult”. He in fact owned the 3 green flags: perfect, punctual, and responsible. But god did he look fine. Perfect blue eyes along with brown hair that would make any girl go crazy.
Criminal records: None (but some allegations regarding a criminal gang named “12 kizuki”- but seriously who would look at him and believe that.
Truly a gentlemen.
Operation 2: Overly flirty (making him squirm)
As expected he arrived on time.
You arrived 5 minutes late on purpose.
He's seated across you in a nice grey suit (probably custom made), his eyes glance towards his watch his eyebrows furrowing a bit.
“Hi”, you said while dropping your bag on the table “I’m so sorry for being late”.
“It’s fine,” his expression says the opposite,“Traffic?”
“Yea,” you wave your hand around and ‘accidentally’ knock the glass of water and it splashes all on his lap.
“Oh my god I am so sorry,” you immediately grab the napkin and start dabbing his pants hand slowly inching towards his manhood. (god I felt like my soul exited my body when I wrote that)
He grabs your wrist. “It’s fine, accidents happen.”
As you retract your hand.
“You know..you’re quite handsome in person,” you smile sweetly, face propped on your hand.
You let your eyes wander all around his body, “custom suit right? Highlights your physique real well.”
A faint flush appears on his cheeks.
Score.
“Thank you..it is custom.”
“To maintain a physique like that you must be a fit person right,” you take a sip of your water “are you a morning gym guy?”
“Yes,” he clears his throat “perhaps we should order?”
You order something light and spend the rest of the time staring at hakuji slowly (and making it obvious)
“So..you must be very career focused?”
“Yes.”
“So you must not have much experience with women then,” without giving him a chance to respond you continue “it’s fine I can manage, I’ll be there to help no need to worry your pretty head about it!”
The rest of the date goes with you making increasingly suggestive comments.
He ends up paying the bill (being polite). By the end Hakuji looks like he's ready to flip the table.
“Call me I had fun,” you wink.
2 down
x—x—x—x
Folder 3:
Douma
Age: 28
Owner to multiple organization (all within an international reach)
He looked like he was sculpted by god himself. Gorgeous locks of blonde hair along with those captivating eyes with shimmering rainbow colored irises. All framing his pale handsome face.
So many photos.
Him attending galas. Him dancing with women. Him dancing with more women. And more. Ugh.
Truly a manwhore
Criminal records: Allegations of being part of organized crime with a famous underground gang named ‘12 kizuki’, (quickly shut down) being a cult leader (shut down), cannibalism (shut down), handling smuggling (also shut down- wow who could guess)
You were gonna faint.
Operation 3: Full church mode
You were gonna explode.
It’s fine you’re gonna be okay- the way you keep bouncing your foot to the way you keep bitting at your nails say something else.
You decided to dress up like you were attending church (more like a funeral with the color scheme). You ended up looking like a potato sack on heels.
It’s fine, it’s too late to go back.
You push open the cafe door and see him. He’s kind of hard to miss- especially with those eyes of his.
He’s on his phone, a lazy smile on his face but his eyes suggest something else- for all you could be knowing he’s probably flirting with 3 different women (probably models).
He looks up from his phone and smiles (again).
“You must be [name], or my future wife” he says (listening to someone claw and at a blackboard seems better), “I must say you look,” he lets his eyes wander over your ‘interesting’ choice of clothes “different- in a good way of course.”
Yeah he was definitely holding back.
Everything’s fine, remember act modest! Do not fall for temptation
You pull the chair and plop down, “thank you so much for taking the time out of your day,” your voice soft.
He looks completely set back as if he’s done this multiple times (he probably has). “Can I get you something, tea, coffee?”
“Just water please.”
You end up taking small sips of your water.
Douma looks at you and breaks the silence with “I must say you are very different than the usual arrangement,” he smiles. (How is he still smiling)
The water you were drinking threatens to come out of your nose, “sorry, what?”
“Ahh..nothing don’t worry about it.”
“Well that’s nice of you,” you take a big gulp of water “I suggest from our next meetup and onwards we must hire a chaperone.”
That smile of his seems to falter a bit, “Sorry could you repeat?”
You don’t respond instead you take out your phone and start scrolling through different churches and workshops, “I believe in traditional values, my church believes in purity workshops to not fall for temptation.”
“Purity workshops..”
“Yes,” you take another sip of your water. “If you don’t mind, I took the initiative to search for eligible chaperones for us.”
“Oh.”
“It’s fine you can thank me later.”
“Is it really necessary for chaperones?
“To avoid temptation of course!”
Doumas hand reaches towards his coffee and the next thing you know he’s gulping it down.
“And how long exactly would we need these chaperones?”
“Just until we’re engaged of course!”
The entire date just ends up being Douma asking you about something completely unrelated and you end up connecting it to your traditional values.
By the end of the date he looks ready to flip the table.
“Don’t worry, I'll be praying to god to see if this calling is right.”
“Oh great.”
“Stay blessed,” you give him the sweetest smile you could muster.
x—x—x—x
You did it.
It’s been a whole 4 days without no messages.
Just pure bliss.
On your 5th day you wake and enjoy the feeling of war being over.
You open your phone only to check in your friends only to see 3 simultaneous ‘dings’ appear on your phone.
3 notifications. 3 different accounts. Form 3 people you never wanted to hear from.
Michikatsu: I’m interested. Is 8pm Friday fine with you?
Hakuji: I would love to continue our discussion..are you free on 7 pm at xx?
Douma: Hey I had fun on our first date. How about my place this Saturday? Don’t worry you can bring your chaperone
Pairing: Dark Aerion "Brightflame" Targaryen x (female) Reader
▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.
More at Masterlist
SUMMARY: Aerion stops at nothing to get you back - even if it means involving your newborn.
Modern!AU
WARNINGS: Post-partum. Blackmail. Manipulation.
AN: A little drabble about this 😊 Aerion is a jerk here. I lied about not posting anything for a while... again. What can I do?
Anyways, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated, but a reblog with a comment is even better! Thanks 💗 Let me know if you like this. Enjoy!
--
‘The number you are trying to reach is currently unavailable’
The same words you’ve been hearing for the past ten minutes on a repeated loop and your despair grows dangerously every time you are forced to listen to them.
It hurts - in more ways than one. There’s no effort to stop the tears from running wildly down your cheeks, the battle long lost because as soon as the nurse told you with an apprehensive expression that your baby had been discharged by his father, the dam in your eyes had broken.
A ugly sound escapes from your lips and you bury your face in your hands, nails digging into your skin. You feel sick to your stomach, chest squeezed tight by invisible hands. You feel as though you can’t breathe, struggling to take in oxygen.
Dismissed calls and ignored messages.
That’s the silent treatment Aerion is giving you - something you normally would not mind, had he not taken your newborn with him. You flinch at the sharp pain in your womb, nearly doubling down over yourself.
Labour was bad enough to make cramps seem like a poor joke. It was excruciatingly painful, one of the worst pains of your life, something you never wish to repeat again. But the awful pain seemed to dull away from the moment your small, sweet boy had been placed in your arms. He had cried and squirmed, his minuscule face twisted as he made himself the center of the attention.
He had the smallest little hands and feet you had ever seen, those tiny fingers and cute nose. And while he had inherited his father’s hair and eyes, he seemed nothing like him. You could feel it, that hot feeling in your heart that told you he was not Aerion’s son. He was your son, your sweet son.
And now he's gone.
Taken away by Aerion to god knows where. Your little Maegor is only a few hours old and Aerion has already begun with his selfish antics.
He’s always been cruel - with his words, with his actions. But this? This takes cruelty into heights that never dared to cross your mind even in your worst fantasies.
You bawl at that, at how misery seems to follow you wherever you go.
At how nothing in your life ever goes right. What’s supposed to be a happy day is now ruined, shattered into a million irreconcilable pieces that stab at you. Anxiety and concern are eating you alive, gnawing at you like a disease.
Newborns need dark, soothing places to get back from the shock of entering the world. Aerion doesn’t possibly know that. He knows nothing about babies despite coming from a big family and having an obscene amount of younger siblings.
What if Aerion leaves your son in the sun and his fragile skin gets burned?
What if Maegor gets hungry and Aerion tries to feed him something solid? Babies can’t drink water, right?
What if his diaper gets dirty and Aerion refuses to change it?
Your mind conjures up the worst possible scenarios that have you hyperventilating of terror. All you can think about is little Maegor crying his lungs out and Aerion ignoring him.
All you want is to have your son back in your arms, safe and sound and away from Aerion.
You just want your son!
The ache in your lower half hikes up and you try to calm yourself down, wiping the tears with a hazy movement. Your phone pings and you scramble to grab the device, swiping over the screen, heart faltering with hope.
You visibly deflate at the long message that your sister just sent. That she’s happy and can’t wait to visit you in the summer and something else you don’t bother reading. You can’t bring yourself to worry about her right now.
Instead you exit the conversation and click on Aerion’s icon.
All the messages you sent him are far from being answered, not even marked as ‘read’. This is punishment, you know it is. Aerion promised you’d regret pushing him away and now he’s delivering his promise in the most cruel way he found.
Beneath him is Maekar’s contact. Aerion’s father.
The tall, ill-humored man that barely acknowledged your presence when Aerion first introduced you at a family party. The same man who still wouldn’t acknowledge you even when later that same night he had to pull Aerion away from you after he had just delivered a stingy slap to your cheek for something so insignificant you can’t even remember.
Maekar knows about Maegor.
He knows you were carrying his first grandchild given how he’s the one who paid the private hospital for you to give birth on. And although he doesn’t have much interest in you, he has to have some power over his son… right?
Aerion always played nice in front of his dad - well, most of the time.
Maekar has to help you, because you don’t know what else to do.
There’s no hesitation as you click on the call button. It rings for a long time but no one answers the call. Same as Aerion. You try again. And again. Your hand grips the phone so tightly you fear it’s gonna damage it.
For a brief moment you consider calling the police.
Tell them what happened, how Aerion stole your son. That has to be some sort of crime. But the memories of the police officer appearing at your apartment resurface, of that one night when things got too intense and too loud and someone called the police on the account of a woman’s screaming.
It’s still fresh in your memory at how quickly the man recognized Aerion and how easily he accepted his excuse of a small couple argument and how you were just prone to melodramatics at the smallest thing.
It also didn’t go unnoticed by you the fat volume of bills Aerion slipped to the man’s hand, a small apology for his trouble as he had said.
Who says the same story won’t repeat itself?
–
Thirty-eight minutes later, you find yourself at the gate of Aerion’s private condo.
Cold wind blows at your face, the darkness of the sky indicating the likeliness of rain soon enough. Despite the cold weather, your skin feels humid. You feel uncomfortably hot, your body’s temperature so high that you almost believe it to be a furnace.
It took one hell of an argument with the doctor to get you discharged and while you wanted nothing more than to stay under observation and care of their medical team, your priority isn’t your health, it’s your son.
You’re aware of how messy you must look with your sweaty face and oily hair, still looking very much pregnant even though right now there’s no baby nestled inside you.
You feel as bad as you look, dizzy and with a persistent ache in the right side of your temple. The taxi driver kept glancing back at you the whole drive, asking if you were alright and if the address was right. He must’ve suspected that this lavish, exclusive part of the city is not where you belong. Even the guards at the gate give you a weird once-over but allow you to enter.
“I’m here for Aerion.” you hiss when entering the lobby, more than ready to both scream and beg at the pretty receptionist to be let inside. To your surprise, she only smiles and nods before guiding you to the private elevator leading to Aerion’s penthouse as though she had been waiting for you to show up.
During the short elevator ride, your legs nearly give up. Exhaustion clings to you, the few hours you got to rest after labor not enough to make you feel better. Your whole body is tense, uterus suffering as though someone is stabbing you.
When the door to Aerion’s apartment opens, you unceremoniously push past the maid and storm inside, head and eyes going left and right as you try to find your baby.
“Aerion!”
The living room is empty.
Same with the kitchen, the cinema room and his office.
Every division that comes up empty has anxiety bubbling inside you, the fear of Aerion taking Maegor to one of his family’s many houses. You wouldn’t know where to go next, if he has taken your son somewhere else. You don’t even know where Maekar lives.
You have just barged into one of the guest rooms, throat feeling raw from calling out for Aerion when you realize that it’s been modified into a nursery.
There’s only a small, dim light in the room, the blinds and curtains closed shut. Desperate and in dire need of confirmation, you run to the crib and tears of pure relief begin to roll down your cheeks at the sight of little Maegor soundly asleep.
“Oh, Maegor. Mommy is here, I’m here.”
He squirms when you pick him up and cradle him to your chest, kissing his head repeatedly. He looks fine, lost in the world of sweet dreams. You squeeze him a bit harder than you should, lost in relief of having your baby back in your arms.
“Must you be so loud?”
When you turn around, Aerion is by the door.
Looking well-rested and dressed more presentably than any new father ever should. Looking far more presentable than you - then again, he was not the one who spent nearly five hours going through the most indescribable, agonizing pain nor was he present while you birthed his son.
Rage surges through you at the sight of Aerion and with one hand holding Maegor to your chest, your remaining one reaches for the table next to the crib. Your fingers grab te first thing you see, a baby powder package, and you hurl it towards Aerion. It misses spectacularly, hitting the wall with a loud sound and a small explosion of white powder.
He only chuckles at your missed strike and insolently raises his eyebrows.
“You monster!” you yell at him.
Maegor suddenly fusses and you look down at him, worried.
“If you’re going to be hysterical, then let’s do this outside without him.” Aerion proposes, opening the door wider. “No need to disturb his sleep.”
You clench your jaw, glaring at him with teary eyes.
“I have nothing to speak with you. Fuck you, Aerion.” you spit, voice shaking as an array of emotions devastates you on the inside. “I mean, how could you- Why? Why would you do this? Why would you steal Maegor away from me?”
Aerion crosses his arms, leaning back against the door with a much too relaxed stance.
“Since when is it stealing if I’m the boy’s father?” he wonders. “I have a right to him just as much as you do. More, if we’re being honest.”
You shake your head, bitterly scoffing at his audacity. Some things never change.
“Maegor is my son and we’re leaving.” you declare, “Stay away from us, Aerion. It’s not like you care about us anyways.”
Aerion doesn’t move away from the door when you walk closer and you give him a hard glare.
“Aerion.”
He pushes his lips together, the sharp angles of his face narrowing.
“You can leave if you want to.” Aerion says before nodding with his head towards the little baby you are still protectively holding against your chest. “But he stays here.”
Your heart drops at those words.
No.
This has to be another of Aerion’s cruel, insensitive jokes but when you look at him, there’s not a single shred of amusement in his face.
“Wha-”
“Like I said. You may leave.” he repeats calmly, pushing himself off the door. When he takes a step in your direction, you mirror him by going backwards. “But you’ll be going alone, I’m afraid. Maegor is going to stay here with his father.”
Your fingers tighten around Maegor, with fear that your son will get snatched out of your hands. Aerion raises his eyebrows expectantly.
“Door is right over here. I believe you know the way out. Or perhaps you’d like security to escort you out.”
“No, you… You can’t do this.” Your voice comes out uncertain and shaky unlike what you intended. To show weakness in front of Aerion is like teasing a shark with the taste of blood.
Aerion scoffs, irritation flaring up. “Oh, so now you’ll be telling me what I can or cannot do?”
“He’s my son-”
“As he is mine.” he interrupts you. “And who do you think the court will favor - a jobless young mother or me, a Targaryen who can actually afford a roof over the child’s head?”
Aerion keeps going, merciless in his quest to humiliate you.
“Or perhaps you’d like to explain it to me how exactly do you plan on clothing and feeding my son when you haven’t got a single dime to your name. No money, no job. You’ve got nothing.” he states.
Maegor moves in your arms, little legs flailing and you bounce him by instinct, hoping to calm him down - and yourself. The fire and energy are both draining out of you insanely fast, leaving you unprotected against Aerion’s threats. You’re frankly exhausted, both mentally and physically.
“Aerion, please…”
You flinch out of habit when he closes the gap between you, one hand coming to pick at a messy hair strand and tuck it away from your face. He twists his nose as his eyes take notice of your sweaty, unkept appearance.
“Maegor is staying here.” he repeats, voice softening. “But so can you.”
His offer takes you off-guard, even if in hindsight you should’ve seen it coming.
“A child needs both parents, doesn’t it? Everything you and Maegor need will be given abundantly. A roof, comfort, nannies. Whatever you want. Just think about it. We could be the happy family you’ve always wanted.”
The only way you could ever be a happy family is if Aerion is not involved, but right now that’s not something you can afford to say out loud.
Aerion’s smile turns colder. “Or if you prefer we can take this to court and they’ll decide who gets to keep the boy. I’m sure you’d be allowed to see him once a month, at least.”
His hand hovers over Maegor’s small head, fingers gently caressing the tufts of pale hair. You want to slap his hand away from your son before he contaminates him with his venom.
“And Maegor here, well, he’d be raised by nannies and governesses. He’d grow up to hate you, the mother who was never around. Who didn’t care about him enough to stick around.”
"Is that the future you want for our son?"
You look at him, trying to see any sign that he might be bluffing, an empty threat like he has done many times before. You find no warmth or compassion in his pretty face.
Only a cold, calculative expression of someone who has played this game before and knows that victory is imminent.
“So…” Aerion asks. “... do you still want to leave?”
Hello I have reread your hiccup soulmate story so many times. Are you interested in finishing it?
Hi!! Thank you so much for this message. It genuinely made me smile. I’m so sorry for the long hiatus. Life has been very hectic lately, especially since I’m a senior in college and in my last semester, so writing had to sit quietly in the corner for a while.
But yes, I absolutely plan on finishing the Hiccup soulmate story! I’ve actually started working on the continuation again, and knowing that you’ve reread it so many times means more to me than I can properly put into words. Thank you for being such a long-time reader and for still caring about the story. That means everything to me. 💛
Below is the second part of the series. I hope you enjoy returning to this little world of fate, dragons, and Hiccup being completely "normal" about love.
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The Shape of Belonging (Part 2)
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After the soulmark binds you to Berk’s young chief, the village begins treating your presence less like diplomacy and more like destiny. Hiccup tries to give you space, but his devotion keeps slipping into quiet control: protective patrols, careful gifts, watchful dragons, and a future everyone seems ready to decide for you. As Berk’s expectations tighten around you, you begin to wonder whether Hiccup’s love is a shelter, a cage, or something far more dangerous because you are starting to want it too.
Marked by Fate, Claimed by Fire (Yandere Hiccup x Reader)
The Shape of Belonging (Yandere Hiccup x Reader) <= You're here!
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Up next:
What He Never Saw (Yandere Hiccup);
The First Kindness (Yandere Tuffnut x Reader)
To find my main masterlist, click HERE.
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The morning after the forge, Berk looked too bright.
That was the first strange thing.
You had grown used to the island wearing grey like a second cloak. Most mornings arrived with fog curled around the cliffs, sea wind snapping at shutters, and dragons cutting through low clouds like living shadows. Berk was not gentle when it woke. It groaned. It smoked. It shouted from one end of the village to the other before the sun had even decided whether it wanted to be involved.
But that morning, sunlight poured over everything.
It turned the frost on the rooftops silver. It caught on dragon scales and made the village glitter in brief, sharp flashes. It stretched across the wooden paths and warmed the damp railings, softening the edges of a place that had always seemed carved from stubbornness. Even the sea looked calmer, as if it had briefly agreed not to throw itself against the rocks out of pure spite.
You stood outside your guest hut with your cloak pulled around your shoulders, breathing in cold air and wondering why the brightness made you uneasy.
Perhaps because light had a way of revealing things.
Perhaps because last night, in the forge, you had seen something you were not meant to see.
Hiccup’s notebook.
The soulmark sketches.
The diagrams.
The map of your walks through Berk.
It should have frightened you more than it did. That was the thought that kept returning, soft-footed and unwelcome. It should have lodged under your ribs like a thorn. It should have made you withdraw. After all, chiefs did not casually sketch the movements of foreign envoys under the guise of protection, and inventors did not fill pages with symbols from another person’s skin unless interest had already become something heavier.
But whenever you tried to hold onto suspicion, Hiccup’s face rose in your mind.
His awkward smile.
His red ears.
His nervous hands.
The way his voice had softened when he said he wanted to understand the thing that brought you to him.
And there was the bond too.
That complicated, impossible thing.
Your soulmark had not faded after that first day. It remained just above your heart, faint most of the time, like moonlight sleeping beneath the skin. But when Hiccup stood near you, it warmed. When he looked at you too long, it glowed. When his hand brushed yours, even accidentally, it answered with a pulse that made your breath catch.
You did not know what to do with that.
In your homeland, destiny belonged in temple murals and old songs. It belonged to heroes and saints, to tragic lovers and dead kings. It did not belong to you, standing in borrowed boots on an icy island, wondering whether your diplomatic mission had quietly transformed into a marriage negotiation without asking your permission.
A dragon landed nearby, shaking snow from its wings.
You startled, then turned to find Astrid sliding from Stormfly’s saddle with the ease of someone stepping off a porch.
She took one look at you and smirked.
“You’re awake. Good. I was half expecting Hiccup to have stationed guards around your hut and told everyone you needed another three hours of rest for diplomatic reasons.”
You blinked. “Does he do that?”
Astrid’s expression sharpened just slightly.
It was brief. A flicker. The kind most people would miss. But you had spent years in diplomatic halls where entire wars could be hidden inside a pause.
“Hiccup worries,” she said.
That was not an answer.
You folded your hands in front of you. “So I’m learning.”
Astrid studied you for a moment, then stepped closer, lowering her voice. The village was too loud for anyone else to hear, but something about her posture made the conversation feel sealed.
“Look, I know this whole soulmark thing is… a lot.”
You let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “That’s one word for it.”
“Berk has old beliefs about it. Strong ones. People here don’t treat soulmarks like pretty symbols or romantic gossip. They treat them like law written by gods who got tired of being ignored.”
“And Hiccup?”
Astrid looked toward the forge.
You followed her gaze.
There he was.
Across the village, near the wide doors of the workshop, Hiccup stood with Gobber and a pair of riders. He had a leather strap clenched between his teeth while he adjusted some mechanism on a saddle. His hair stuck up in every direction, his sleeves were rolled, and there was soot on his wrist. He looked busy. Harmless. Entirely himself.
Then, as if tugged by some unseen thread, he looked up.
His eyes found yours instantly.
Not searched.
Found.
The world seemed to pause around that look.
Hiccup’s face changed at once. The focused tension eased from his jaw. A smile formed slowly, private at first, then sheepish when he realized you had caught him staring. He lifted his hand in a small wave.
You lifted yours back.
Astrid watched both of you.
“Hiccup,” she said quietly, “doesn’t believe in anything halfway.”
You turned to her.
The words did not sound unkind. If anything, there was a sadness in them, the worn affection of someone who had known Hiccup long before fate touched his chest and called your name.
“He’s loyal,” she continued. “Brilliant. Stubborn enough to argue with a thunderstorm if he thought it was wrong. But when he decides something matters, he builds his whole world around it.”
Your fingers brushed the place above your heart.
Astrid noticed.
Her voice softened.
“I’m not trying to scare you.”
“That’s not very reassuring.”
A smile tugged at her mouth. “I know. I’m terrible at this. Usually I just hit things until the emotional tension gets embarrassed and leaves.”
You laughed despite yourself, and Astrid seemed pleased by that. She jerked her head toward the training grounds.
“Come on. Before Hiccup starts inventing a safer axe.”
“A safer axe?”
“He tried once.”
“Did it work?”
“It exploded.”
“That sounds unsafe.”
“Exactly what I told him.”
The training grounds sat on a broad stretch of packed earth near the edge of the village, ringed by wooden posts, weapon racks, and scorch marks that suggested many lessons on Berk ended with someone shouting at a dragon. Several young riders were already there, practicing with shields while a pair of Deadly Nadders watched with bright, judgmental eyes.
Astrid handed you a practice axe.
It was blunted, but still heavy enough to make your wrist dip.
“You’ve handled weapons before?” she asked.
“Ceremonial blades. A little archery. Mostly enough to look composed at formal events without accidentally stabbing a minister.”
“So no.”
“Diplomatically, we would say my training is symbolic.”
Astrid gave you a look. “On Berk, symbolic training gets you bitten.”
For the next hour, she taught you how to stand, how to shift your weight, how to avoid locking your knees, how to move with the weapon instead of fighting it. She was patient in the way warriors were patient, which meant she corrected you before your mistakes had a chance to become habits and did not praise you unless you had earned it.
You liked that.
It was grounding.
Since the soulmark appeared, everyone had treated you as though you might shatter or ascend. The villagers bowed their heads. Servants appeared with food you had not requested. Children whispered your name like you had come out of a fireside story. Even visiting elders looked at you and Hiccup with the solemn delight of people watching prophecy lace its boots.
Astrid, at least, tossed an axe at you and told you your grip looked like a dying crab.
It was refreshing.
By midday, your arms ached, your shoulders burned, and your pride had suffered several minor casualties. You were laughing when your practice axe landed nowhere near the post Astrid had told you to aim for.
“That was better,” she said.
You looked at the axe, which had struck the ground with the tragic dignity of a dropped spoon.
“Was it?”
“No. But you looked less terrified.”
“So progress.”
“Tiny, pitiful progress.”
You pressed a hand to your chest in mock offense. “Your encouragement could move armies.”
“It has.”
That made you laugh again.
Then the ground shifted beneath your feet.
Not literally. Not enough to throw you. But enough that your soulmark pulsed hot beneath your clothing, sudden and sharp. You froze, one hand flying to your chest.
Astrid noticed at once.
“What is it?”
You inhaled.
The mark warmed again.
Not like when Hiccup stood near. This was different. A tug. A pull. A line going taut somewhere inside you.
You turned.
Hiccup was standing at the edge of the training grounds.
You had not heard him approach.
Toothless stood beside him, tail swaying, green eyes fixed on you with bright satisfaction. Hiccup’s expression, by contrast, was open and concerned, but too carefully arranged. He held a waterskin in one hand and a folded cloth in the other. His gaze moved over you quickly, taking inventory.
Your face.
Your hands.
Your stance.
The axe.
Astrid.
Then back to you.
“Hey,” he said, voice light. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Astrid crossed her arms. “You walked directly into the training grounds.”
“Right. Yes. That does make the interruption argument weaker.”
You smiled despite the strange heat still simmering under your mark.
“We were almost finished.”
“Good. Great. Not because I’m trying to stop anything. I brought water.” He held up the waterskin. “Which is very normal. People bring water. To training. For hydration. Very important to not collapse during diplomatic axe humiliation.”
Astrid narrowed her eyes.
“Did Gobber tell you we were here?”
“No.”
“Fishlegs?”
“No.”
“Snotlout?”
“Please. Snotlout thinks subtlety is a kind of cheese.”
“Then how did you know?”
Hiccup paused.
It was not long. Barely a breath.
But you felt it.
“I saw Stormfly fly this way,” he said. “And I figured.”
Astrid did not look convinced.
Neither were you.
But Hiccup was already stepping closer, offering you the waterskin with a smile that made suspicion feel rude.
“You okay?” he asked. “You looked like you were doing pretty well from over there.”
“From over there,” Astrid repeated.
Hiccup grimaced. “A reasonable distance over there.”
“Behind the fish drying racks?”
“A strategic distance.”
You took the waterskin to hide your smile.
“Were you watching?”
His eyes widened.
“No. Not watching. Observing. Briefly. In passing. With concern. Chief concern.”
Astrid made a sound that was very nearly a snort.
Hiccup shot her a look, then turned back to you.
“I just wanted to make sure Astrid didn’t start you with something insane.”
“I gave them a blunted axe.”
“That’s still an axe.”
“This is Berk.”
“Which is why I worry.”
The words came out soft.
Too soft.
The playful rhythm faltered. For a second, no one spoke. Your mark warmed again, gentler this time, as if recognizing him beneath every layer of awkwardness and soot.
You lowered the waterskin.
“I’m fine, Hiccup.”
His eyes settled on your face.
He nodded slowly.
“Good.”
Just that.
One word, yet it carried too much relief.
Astrid looked between you again, and this time her expression was unreadable.
The rest of the day should have returned to normal after that.
It did not.
Once Hiccup appeared, the village seemed to reorient around him and, by extension, around you. A few riders wandered over. Gobber shouted something about “young love and poor axe form” from across the yard, which made Hiccup turn scarlet and Astrid threaten to demonstrate excellent axe form on his good leg. Ruffnut and Tuffnut arrived with a basket of something that smelled suspiciously flammable and claimed it was a traditional Berkish snack.
“Is it supposed to smoke?” you asked.
Tuffnut peered into the basket. “Only if it respects you.”
Ruffnut nodded solemnly. “This one respects you deeply.”
Hiccup confiscated the basket before anyone could eat it.
By afternoon, you had somehow been pulled into a loose gathering near the central firepit. Someone brought stew. Someone else brought bread. Children hovered nearby, pretending not to stare at your soulmark whenever your cloak shifted. Toothless sprawled behind you like an enormous shadow, his tail curved around the bench in a way that made leaving difficult without stepping over him.
You told yourself it was coincidence.
A friendly dragon seeking warmth.
A protective companion.
A beast with no understanding of personal space.
Then you tried to stand to help carry bowls back to the hall.
Toothless lifted his head and placed his chin directly on your lap.
The entire bench shook with his weight.
You looked down at him.
“Excuse me.”
He blinked.
You tried to shift.
His eyes widened with such theatrical innocence that you almost admired the performance.
Hiccup, seated on your other side, covered his mouth.
“Toothless,” you said, firmer this time.
The dragon made a tiny chirping sound. A sound no creature his size had any right to produce.
“He likes you,” Hiccup said.
“He is trapping me.”
“Affectionately.”
“That does not make it less trapping.”
“No, but it makes it harder to prosecute.”
You looked at him and found him smiling, not smugly, not openly, but with a warmth that made your chest tighten. He looked happy. Deeply, dangerously happy. As if seeing Toothless pin you in place beside him confirmed some private hope he had not dared speak aloud.
You should have pushed the dragon away.
You did not.
Instead, you sighed and scratched behind Toothless’s ear. His eyes slid half-shut in triumph.
“You two are very alike,” you murmured.
Hiccup tilted his head. “Me and Toothless?”
“Yes.”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“You both act harmless when you want something.”
Toothless huffed.
Hiccup went still.
It was subtle. The kind of stillness that did not interrupt his breathing or his expression, but touched everything beneath it. His smile remained, yet his eyes sharpened, as if your words had slipped through a crack and landed somewhere tender.
Then he laughed.
A little too late.
“That’s… probably fair.”
Your gaze lingered on him.
Before you could say anything else, Snotlout appeared with a bowl in each hand and enough confidence to fill a warship.
“So,” he said, dropping onto the bench across from you, “how’s Berk treating our future chief consort?”
Your spoon paused halfway to your mouth.
Hiccup’s head snapped toward him.
Astrid, who had been speaking with Fishlegs nearby, turned so fast her braid swung over her shoulder.
“Snotlout,” Hiccup said.
Warning lived inside his name.
Snotlout missed it with heroic dedication.
“What? I’m just asking. Everyone’s thinking it. Soulmark appears, village celebrates, envoys get nervous, Hiccup acts like a lovesick Terrible Terror with access to government authority.”
“Snotlout.”
This time, the word cut colder.
You looked at Hiccup.
The warmth had vanished from his face.
Not anger exactly. Something controlled. Something that made the firelight seem less friendly. He had gone quiet in a way that reminded you of the maps beneath his hand, of pages covered before you could read too much.
Snotlout finally noticed.
His grin faltered.
“I mean… in a good way?”
Ruffnut leaned over from beside him. “That made it worse.”
Tuffnut nodded. “Much worse. A whole funeral for the sentence.”
You set your bowl down.
“Future chief consort?” you repeated.
Hiccup turned back to you at once.
The change was immediate. His expression softened, his shoulders lowered, and his voice became gentle, careful, almost pleading.
“It’s not… official. No one should be calling you that.”
“But people are?”
No one answered.
That was answer enough.
A strange silence spread around the firepit. Even the dragons seemed to notice, lifting their heads from the snow. The children had stopped whispering. Gobber looked away. Astrid’s mouth tightened.
Your heart beat once, hard.
You had known the soulmark mattered. You had known Berk treated it seriously. But knowing in theory was not the same as hearing your future dropped casually into conversation by a man eating stew.
You looked around at the faces watching you.
Not hostile.
Hopeful.
That was worse.
Hostility could be defended against. Hope made you feel cruel for wanting room to breathe.
Hiccup leaned closer, not touching you, but close enough that you felt the heat of him.
“Hey,” he said softly. “Look at me.”
You did.
His eyes held yours with almost frightening focus.
“No one gets to decide anything for you.”
The words should have comforted you.
They almost did.
Then he continued.
“Not the village. Not your council. Not even the bond. You get time. As much as you need.”
Something in you loosened.
He sounded so sincere.
So safe.
Then his gaze dipped briefly to your soulmark, hidden beneath your clothing, and the softness in his face deepened into something near devotion.
“I can wait,” he said.
The fire snapped.
You heard what he did not say.
I can wait because I know how this ends.
The conversation scattered after that, though not naturally. Astrid dragged Snotlout away under the pretense of needing help with something near the training ring. Ruffnut and Tuffnut began arguing about whether stew could be used as hair adhesive. Gobber loudly announced that anyone who wanted to gossip about soulmarks could do it while cleaning dragon stalls, which cleared half the gathering with impressive speed.
Hiccup remained beside you.
Toothless’s head was still on your lap.
You stared into the fire, feeling suddenly far from home.
“Do they really think that?” you asked.
Hiccup did not pretend to misunderstand.
“Some do.”
“That I’ll stay?”
His fingers flexed around his bowl.
“They hope.”
“And you?”
He was quiet for too long.
When he spoke, his voice had lost its humor entirely.
“I don’t want to make you feel trapped.”
Again, not an answer.
You turned toward him.
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Hiccup’s face shifted, and for once, he did not manage to hide quickly enough.
Want crossed it first.
Raw, unguarded want.
Then fear.
Then something harder, buried so deep beneath tenderness that you almost missed it.
He looked away.
“I think,” he said slowly, “that fate doesn’t do things by accident.”
Your throat tightened.
“That still isn’t an answer.”
His laugh was soft and humorless.
“No. I guess it isn’t.”
He set his bowl down and rubbed a hand over his face. For a moment, he looked exhausted. Not boyish. Not charming. Just young, and burdened, and terribly human.
“I want you to stay,” he admitted.
The words were quiet.
No performance. No rambling. No cleverness.
Just truth.
Your mark warmed.
You hated that it did.
Hiccup looked at you then, and there was so much emotion in his eyes that you forgot how to breathe properly.
“I want it so badly it scares me,” he said. “And I know that’s not fair to you. You came here for diplomacy, not…”
He gestured vaguely between you, searching for a word large enough to hold destiny, desire, village expectations, ancient belief, and whatever had started growing in the forge while he sketched your mark by firelight.
“This,” he finished.
You swallowed.
“Hiccup.”
He smiled faintly.
“Yeah. I know. Very eloquent. Chiefly, even.”
“I don’t dislike being here.”
The words came out before you had fully decided to say them.
His eyes lifted.
You continued, because stopping now felt cruel.
“I don’t dislike you. That’s part of the problem.”
His expression stilled.
“That’s a problem?”
“It makes everything confusing.”
He absorbed that like it mattered more than any formal treaty you could have brought him.
“Confusing can be okay,” he said carefully. “Confusing means you haven’t decided against it.”
You should not have smiled.
You did anyway.
“That’s a very inventor way to look at feelings.”
“I prefer optimistic disaster management.”
“That sounds accurate.”
For a brief moment, the tension eased. You sat together in the fading afternoon, the fire crackling before you, Toothless warm and heavy against your lap, Hiccup close enough that his shoulder almost touched yours.
Almost.
He never crossed that final inch.
That was one of the things that made him so difficult.
He hovered at the edge of every boundary with exquisite care. Never stepping over. Never giving you a clear reason to pull away. He did not command your time. He simply appeared where you were. He did not forbid you from leaving. He simply made every path away feel colder, harder, less kind. He did not say you belonged to him.
He made Berk say it for him.
You wondered if he knew.
Then you looked at him and knew, with a sudden chill, that of course he did.
Hiccup Haddock noticed everything.
That evening, a formal dinner was held in the Great Hall.
You had expected another negotiation session, perhaps a discussion of trade routes, resource exchange, and dragon-assisted transport. Instead, you walked into a hall transformed by garlands of winter greenery, candlelight, long tables, and enough food to feed a fleet. The great central hearth roared. Music carried from somewhere near the back. Villagers filled the benches, their faces bright with a kind of anticipation that made your stomach twist.
You paused at the entrance.
Hiccup, beside you, paused too.
His expression changed the second he saw your face.
“You didn’t know,” he said.
It was not a question.
You looked up at him.
“Know what?”
His jaw tightened.
For the first time since you arrived on Berk, Hiccup looked genuinely angry.
Not at you.
Never at you.
At the room.
At the flowers.
At the candles.
At every hopeful face turned toward the doors.
Gobber approached with a grin that began to fade when he saw Hiccup’s expression.
“There you are! We were starting to think you two had gone and gotten all sentimental somewhere.”
“Gobber,” Hiccup said quietly. “What is this?”
Gobber’s brows drew together.
“Dinner.”
“This isn’t dinner.”
“Well, there’s food, so I’d argue.”
“Gobber.”
The older man glanced at you, then back to Hiccup.
Something unspoken passed between them.
Gobber’s voice lowered.
“The village wanted to honor the mark.”
Hiccup’s hand clenched at his side.
“Without asking either of us?”
“It’s tradition.”
“So is throwing shields at children until they learn to duck. We moved past that.”
“Some of them learned beautifully.”
“Gobber.”
The hall had started to quiet.
You could feel attention gathering like storm pressure.
Gobber sighed.
“Hiccup, lad, no one meant harm.”
“I know.”
The words were calm, but his voice cut clean through the hall.
Everyone heard.
“But meaning well doesn’t give anyone the right to corner them.”
Them.
Not my soulmate.
Not the envoy.
Not the future consort.
Them.
Your chest tightened.
Hiccup turned slightly toward the room, and the entire Great Hall seemed to remember that the awkward, soot-marked inventor was also the chief who had ended wars, united riders, and taught Berk to live beside dragons instead of beneath their fire.
“This celebration is over,” he said.
A murmur moved through the crowd.
Your eyes widened.
“Hiccup,” you whispered.
He looked at you immediately, his anger softening the moment it touched your face.
“It’s okay.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I do.”
Then, quieter, just for you:
“They need to understand.”
The villagers looked stunned. Some embarrassed. A few disappointed. But no one argued. Not openly. Slowly, the music stopped. People began shifting, gathering cups and plates, muttering among themselves.
You should have felt relieved.
Instead, guilt swept over you like a wave.
They had meant it kindly. Clumsily, perhaps, but kindly. And Hiccup had just dismantled an entire celebration in front of everyone because your face betrayed hesitation for half a second.
You touched his sleeve.
He looked down at the contact.
So did you.
It was the first time you had reached for him without thinking.
Your soulmark glowed beneath your collar.
His eyes darkened with something too tender to be triumph and too intense to be relief.
“Let’s go somewhere quieter,” he said.
You let him lead you out.
That was the thing.
You let him.
Outside, the cold struck your cheeks. The sun had set while the village prepared its doomed celebration, leaving the sky deep blue and full of scattered stars. Lanterns glowed along the paths. Dragon silhouettes shifted over rooftops, wings tucked close against the wind.
Hiccup did not take you back to your hut.
He took you toward the cliffs.
You knew you should ask where you were going. But the air was sharp, the village noise faded behind you, and his hand hovered near your back without touching, guiding but not forcing. The restraint should not have felt so intimate. It did.
Toothless followed at a distance, silent as spilled ink.
The path climbed past the forge, past the last cluster of houses, past a stand of wind-bent pines. At the cliff’s edge, a wooden platform overlooked the sea. You had seen it from below, but never stood there. The view stole your breath.
Berk spread behind you in firelight and shadow, stubborn and alive. The ocean stretched before you, black and endless beneath the stars. Far below, waves broke against rocks in white bursts, rising and vanishing like ghosts.
Hiccup stood beside you.
For a while, he said nothing.
That silence felt different from the one in the forge. Less secretive. More deliberate. As though he was giving you space and fighting himself for every inch of it.
Finally, he spoke.
“I’m sorry.”
You looked at him.
“For the dinner?”
“For all of it.”
The wind tugged at his hair. Without the forge glow or the busy movement of the village around him, he seemed older. Not in years, but in weight.
“Berk can be… intense,” he said. “We spent generations surviving things by holding tightly to each other. Family, clan, dragons, tradition. When something sacred happens, people don’t always know how to step back.”
You gave him a faint look.
“And you?”
He smiled sadly.
“I’m trying.”
It was such an honest answer that you had no defense against it.
You turned back toward the sea.
“In my homeland, soulmarks are mostly stories. Beautiful ones, usually. Tragic ones too. People talk about them like they’re proof that love can be written before birth.”
“Do you believe that?”
You watched the waves below.
“I don’t know.”
Hiccup nodded.
“That’s fair.”
You glanced at him.
“Do you?”
He did not answer immediately.
His hand rose to his chest, resting over the place where you knew his mark mirrored yours.
“I didn’t,” he said. “Not really. I wanted to, maybe. When I was a kid. Back when everyone thought I was… well, a walking argument against Viking genetics.”
You smiled faintly, but he did not.
“I used to think if soulmarks were real, then maybe there was someone out there who wouldn’t need me to prove anything first. Someone who would look at me and just…”
He stopped.
Your heart hurt a little.
“Just what?”
His voice softened.
“Stay.”
The word slipped between you and disappeared into the wind.
You did not know what to say.
Hiccup laughed under his breath, embarrassed now.
“That sounded less pathetic in my head.”
“It didn’t sound pathetic.”
He looked at you.
The soulmark pulsed.
Yours.
His.
The same rhythm.
“It sounded lonely,” you said.
His expression cracked.
Only for an instant.
But you saw it.
The boy beneath the chief. The outcast beneath the hero. The child who had once wanted proof that there would be a place for him somewhere, with someone, without needing to save the world first.
Your hand moved before your caution could stop it.
You touched his arm.
Hiccup froze.
Not dramatically. Not enough that anyone else would have noticed. But you felt it beneath your fingers, the sudden stillness of him, the way his breath caught and stayed caught.
“I’m sorry,” you said softly.
His eyes lowered to your hand.
“Don’t be.”
His voice was almost a whisper.
You should have pulled away.
You did not.
The wind moved around you both, colder now, but the space between you warmed. Your mark glowed, hidden but unmistakable, a steady pulse beneath cloth and skin. Hiccup’s gaze lifted back to yours. There was no smile now. No awkward deflection. No cleverness.
Just hunger disguised as reverence.
And it was reverence, in part. That was what made it dangerous. He looked at you like something holy. Something long-awaited. Something he had suffered toward without knowing the name of it.
But underneath that was a man who wanted.
Wanted with hands he kept still.
Wanted with words he swallowed.
Wanted with a mind already rearranging the world around you so gently that you might one day wake and call the cage a home.
“You don’t have to decide anything tonight,” he said.
“You said that before.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
The question was quiet.
You looked at him, confused.
His eyes searched your face.
“Do you know I mean it?” he asked. “Or do you just know I’m good at sounding like I do?”
The honesty startled you.
You withdrew your hand.
Hiccup let you.
That made it worse, somehow.
He turned toward the sea, jaw tight, and for a few seconds you saw him fighting something inside himself. Not anger. Not frustration. Something more intimate. A battle between the part of him that loved you enough to give you room and the part that wanted to close every distance before the world discovered how to take you away.
“Sometimes,” he said, “I scare myself.”
Your throat went dry.
He laughed once, brittle and soft.
“That’s probably not what a person says when trying to make someone feel better.”
“Hiccup…”
“No. I need to say it right.”
He looked back at you.
“I care about you. More than I should, considering we’ve known each other for days and fate apparently has terrible timing. I think about you constantly. I notice things I probably shouldn’t notice. I worry when you’re out of sight. I start making plans before I even realize I’m doing it.”
Your breath trembled.
He did not move closer.
“And I hate that part of me,” he said. “Not because it cares. Because it wants to justify itself. It wants to say it’s protection, or destiny, or responsibility. It wants to sound noble.”
The sea crashed below.
“But it isn’t always noble.”
The confession should have frightened you.
It did.
But it also broke something open.
Because monsters did not usually name themselves with such sorrow. Manipulators did not usually hand you the knife and show you where the armor split. Unless, of course, they were very clever.
And Hiccup was very clever.
That was the terrible puzzle of him.
You could not tell where honesty ended and influence began.
Maybe he could not either.
You wrapped your cloak tighter around yourself.
“Why are you telling me this?”
His smile was small and wounded.
“Because you deserve to know what the bond gave you.”
“And what did it give me?”
He looked at you like the answer was obvious and unbearable.
“Me.”
Your soulmark flared.
For one blinding second, heat rushed through you, bright enough to make you gasp. Hiccup’s hand flew to his chest at the same moment. The air between you shimmered faintly, as though the stars themselves had leaned closer to listen.
Toothless lifted his head behind you and rumbled.
The glow faded slowly.
You stood there, shaken, one hand pressed over your mark.
Hiccup stared at you.
Whatever restraint he had carefully held together began to fray.
“Did that hurt?” he asked.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Let me see.”
The words came too fast.
You stepped back.
Hiccup stopped instantly.
His face changed.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
He dragged a hand through his hair.
“Gods. See? This is what I mean.”
Your heart was beating too quickly.
“I think I should go back.”
Pain flickered across his face.
Then he nodded.
“Okay.”
No argument.
No plea.
No hand around your wrist.
Just one quiet word.
He walked you back through the village without speaking. Toothless trailed behind you, subdued now, his usual sly brightness dimmed into watchful concern. The paths were mostly empty. The Great Hall still glowed behind shuttered windows, but the celebration had truly ended. You could hear faint voices inside, lower now, less festive.
When you reached your hut, Hiccup stopped several steps away from the door.
Deliberately away.
“I’ll have someone bring breakfast in the morning,” he said.
“You don’t need to.”
“I know.”
Then, after a pause:
“I won’t come by unless you ask.”
You looked at him.
That should have been reassuring.
Instead, it sounded like a vow carved out of his own skin.
“Hiccup.”
He smiled.
It was the worst smile he had given you yet. Gentle, tired, and aching with everything he refused to say.
“Goodnight.”
He turned before you could answer.
You watched him walk away, Toothless at his side, the two of them disappearing into the dark like a story retreating before the ending could be read.
Inside your hut, the fire had been built high. A fresh blanket lay folded on your cot. A small tray sat on the table with tea, bread, and a jar of honey from Berk’s winter stores. Beside it rested a little metal charm shaped like your soulmark.
You picked it up with unsteady fingers.
It was beautiful.
Of course it was.
Hiccup’s work always was.
The metal was warm despite the cold room, as if it had been held recently. On the back, etched in tiny careful script, was a single line.
For when Berk feels too far from home.
You sat down slowly.
The charm rested in your palm.
Your soulmark pulsed once.
You closed your fingers around the gift and hated how much you wanted to keep it.
The next morning, Hiccup did not come.
Breakfast arrived by way of Fishlegs, who smiled too brightly and spilled half the tea from nerves. He told you Hiccup was busy with saddle repairs, patrol reports, a dispute involving three sheep and a Gronckle, and something he described only as “a minor chimney situation.”
“He said you should have the morning to yourself,” Fishlegs added.
You tried not to react.
“That was considerate.”
Fishlegs nodded eagerly.
Too eagerly.
“Yes. Very considerate. Hiccup is very considerate. Extremely. Painfully, sometimes. Not that there’s pain. I mean, not usually. Unless Gobber is helping with machinery.”
You stared at him.
He cleared his throat.
“I should stop talking.”
“Probably.”
He left so quickly he almost tripped over the threshold.
You spent the morning walking.
Alone, technically.
No one stopped you. No one followed closely enough to accuse. But wherever you went, Berk seemed to open paths before you and close them behind. A woman at the fish stalls gave you an extra portion “for strength.” A boy offered to guide you away from a steep trail because “Chief says visitors miss the ice there.” A rider adjusted his route overhead whenever you wandered near the cliffs.
Protection.
Always protection.
A word soft enough to sleep under.
A word heavy enough to lock a door.
By noon, you found yourself near the docks. The ship that had brought you to Berk remained anchored below, its mast rocking gently against the pale sky. Your people’s flag snapped in the wind, bright and familiar.
Home.
The sight hit harder than expected.
You walked down the steps toward the harbor.
A sailor recognized you and bowed.
“Envoy.”
“How long before the ship returns south?” you asked.
The sailor hesitated.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
His eyes shifted past your shoulder.
You turned.
Hiccup stood at the top of the dock stairs.
For one impossible second, neither of you moved.
He looked as if he had run there. His breathing was controlled, but his hair was wind-tossed, and his prosthetic foot had left deeper marks in the frost than usual. Toothless was not with him.
That, more than anything, unsettled you.
Hiccup came alone.
His eyes moved from you to the ship.
Then back.
“Can we talk?” he asked.
The sailor suddenly discovered an urgent reason to be elsewhere.
You stayed where you were.
“You said you wouldn’t come unless I asked.”
Hiccup flinched.
A small thing.
A real thing.
“I know.”
“Then why are you here?”
He swallowed.
For once, no answer came ready.
The wind moved between you, sharp with salt.
“Because I felt it,” he said at last.
Your fingers curled into your cloak.
“Felt what?”
His hand touched his chest.
“You were thinking about leaving.”
The world went very still.
You had not said it.
You had barely admitted it to yourself.
Hiccup stepped down one stair, then stopped when your shoulders tightened.
“I’m not here to stop you.”
You almost believed him.
Almost.
“Then what are you here to do?”
His face was pale in the cold.
“Ask you not to decide while you’re afraid.”
The words landed too close.
You looked away toward the ship.
“Maybe fear is reasonable.”
“It is.”
You looked back at him, startled.
He nodded, miserable but steady.
“It is. If I were you, I’d be afraid too.”
That hurt more than denial would have.
Hiccup descended another step, slow enough that you could have told him to stop. You didn’t.
“I won’t pretend I’ve handled this perfectly,” he said. “I haven’t. I’ve been trying so hard not to push you that I think I started shaping everything around you instead. Like that was somehow better.”
Your breath caught.
There it was.
The truth you had been circling.
The cage without bars.
The hand that never grabbed because the room itself had been rearranged to guide you closer.
“Why?” you asked.
His eyes shone.
“Because I finally found you.”
Such simple words.
Such devastating ones.
He looked down, laughing once under his breath with no humor at all.
“That sounds insane, doesn’t it? I know it does. We only just met. But the second that mark appeared, it felt like every lonely part of my life pointed at you and said, there. That’s where it was going. That’s why you survived. That’s why you waited.”
He looked up again.
“And I know that’s too much to put on another person. I know.”
Your chest ached.
“But knowing doesn’t change how you feel.”
“No,” he whispered. “It doesn’t.”
The ship creaked behind you.
A gull cried overhead.
You thought of your homeland. Warm stone courtyards. Silk banners. Council chambers. Familiar food. Familiar voices. The life you understood.
Then you thought of Berk. Smoke and frost. Dragons and firelight. Astrid’s blunt kindness. Toothless’s heavy head in your lap. Hiccup’s hands stained with charcoal from sketching the shape of your fate again and again, trying to turn longing into logic because logic was safer than need.
You hated the tenderness that rose in you.
You hated that leaving now would feel less like escape and more like tearing stitches from a wound that had only just begun to close.
“I don’t know what I want,” you said.
Hiccup’s eyes closed briefly.
Relief crossed his face so fiercely that you understood, with a jolt, he had expected something worse.
“That’s okay,” he said.
“Is it?”
“No,” he admitted. “It’s awful. I’m probably going to go back to the forge and invent six terrible coping mechanisms. But it’s okay for you.”
A laugh broke out of you before you could stop it.
It was small, shaky, and almost painful.
Hiccup smiled at the sound.
Not fully.
But enough.
“There you are,” he murmured.
The words were too intimate.
Your heart stumbled.
“Hiccup…”
“Sorry.”
He did not sound sorry.
He sounded in love.
That was the danger. Not the maps. Not the gifts. Not the village whispers. Those things were troubling, yes, but love was the true trap. Love made explanations sound like apologies. Love made obsession look like devotion standing in bad lighting. Love made you want to forgive a man before he had finished becoming dangerous.
And Hiccup loved you.
You knew it then.
Not sweetly. Not simply. Not in the clean, storybook way people imagined when they spoke of soulmarks.
He loved you like a starving thing learning the shape of bread.
Carefully.
Gratefully.
Desperately.
And perhaps that should have sent you onto the ship at once.
Instead, you stepped away from the gangplank.
Hiccup noticed.
Of course he noticed.
His breath caught, but he did not smile too quickly this time. He did not reach for you. He did not claim victory with even the smallest movement.
He only watched, as if the sight of you choosing not to leave had made him afraid to breathe.
“I’ll stay for the negotiations,” you said.
His eyes searched yours.
“Just the negotiations?”
You lifted your chin.
“For now.”
A thousand emotions moved through his face.
Relief.
Hunger.
Joy.
Restraint.
The last one won, but barely.
“For now,” he repeated softly.
The words sounded different in his mouth.
Not temporary.
A beginning.
You should have corrected him.
You did not.
Hiccup stepped aside, giving you the path back up to the village. You walked past him, close enough that your sleeve brushed his. The soulmark warmed at once, bright beneath your cloak, and his breath hitched audibly.
Neither of you mentioned it.
Together, you climbed back toward Berk.
From above, unseen by you, a black dragon watched from the roof of the forge, green eyes narrowed with satisfaction.
Toothless flicked his tail.
The envoy was staying.
For now, Hiccup had said.
For now was enough.
For now could become tomorrow.
Tomorrow could become habit.
Habit could become home.
And home, if guarded carefully enough, could become forever.
yall really need to hear me out on dragon! zuko x disguised as a man! female reader who is a traveler and has to cross the magical forest that forbids women.
Guys let’s do a trauma candy salad (it doesn’t necessarily have to be something traumatic but something just funny ig).
I’ll go first. I’m @iminyourbedsheets and at my last doctor’s appointment (NO HATE TO THE DOCTOR BTW SHE WAS DOING HER JOB) my doctor was examining my height and stuff and she got to my weight and just said “honey have you been getting enough exercise?”. And she also recommended some healthy food options. And that’s how I found out I’m a fat ass. AND I BROUGHT THE BOWL LOL.
i'm @written-by-music and when i was 10 i watched my 3 year old brother nearly die and get cpr from pediatric nurses in the ER during one of his asthma attacks while he had the flu and then scream and cry while they put an iv in him! i bought the sour patch kids!
i’m @cherryfromthehiddenworld and when i was 6 i got diagnosed with cancer and then i beat it at 8 but i missed a year of school and people said i was stupid and failed a class that’s why i’m a year behind and last year after an argument about this i was stabbed on my way home ! and i bought the hersheys kisses !!
@minnies-girl @yashiehehehe @mitzkilvr @atetheluck @jazz7gnab @ykzay @wolf-eyed-witchh11 @pommranii @mara-luv1 @saerachandesu (sorry for the tag !)
hi im @atetheluck and ive been obsessed with my weight since i was nine, and every time i go to the doctors, they always ask me when im gonna start exercising (i already do) or watching my calories (i already do) :] and i brought double stuffed oreos
hi im @swirled-with-ink and when i was ages 7-9 my biological dad raped me and told me he would hurt me if i told anyone. my adopted dad constantly tells me that i weight too much. 3 years ago my exgf committed suicide and i brought milkis :3
Hi I'm @sasgaycumfilledcondom and in 4th grade my dad convinced me I had an OF my showing me pictures of 😺 and saying that it was me. I brought almond joys.
Hi, I'm @massivelystupidlevisimp. Mentioned the Duolingo thing in the previous challenge so....uhhh...oh!
I wrote "Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius" over my bed. My parents think it's my love for English and the fact that Cassius is a good character. I knew it was to exhibit my suicidal tendencies and I like Cassius bocz he is one suicidal fuck
I brought Poppins :D
@evthescribbleguy, @angelbearknyyy, @kugisakinobaradesu, @theghostk3lly, @kellyhashimoro, @kay27-iread, @hexyissy, @abbyfandomgalaxy, @lavenderdropp, @thetinyanimeaxolotl, all my other bootyful moots (I'm too lazy to type) + open tags
Hello! I am @lavenderdropp ! So, apparently two years ago we took in a stray bitch who shifted with her newborns near our house and all of them ended up dying and one of them went missing. Last year she had puppies again, two of them were adopted by someone and two were left with us. The youngest—Tuffy — one was born very weak and was often bullied by his own mother and brother. Tbh he wasn’t my favourite. We spent a lot on his health but we ended up realising that he won’t survive.
one day, it was raining. My mother woke me up, quite aggressively and asked me to get that dog out (he was around 4-5 months year old at that time). He was very sick and constantly was releasing waste. My mother told me that he is messing up the place and that he won’t survive any longer so let him go in nature. i was still pretty drowsy at that time and reluctantly complied while i should’ve offered to take care of him and clean up too. I do not know why i couldnt speak up. He was on the upper veranda and was not coming down. My mother asked me to use a viper to get him down. I tried my best to be gentle but he cried out when he fell and my heart couldn’t take it anymore i almost broke in tears. then he himself walked out and gave me one last look— i still remember that look on his face — and i broke down and i couldn’t stop crying. I cleaned up all the mess while it rained heavily upon me and i couldn’t stop thinking that i committed a sin. I cried for two days and i still cry over him sometimes and hold myself accountable. he was could dead two days later and my father buried him in tears. May he rests peacefully and forgives me. It made me realize how shitty i am. While i didn’t properly talk to my mother for some time after it—it was ultimately my own fault too.
His older brother— Buffy—is all grown up and..very responsible now. Recently when our bitch was pregnant again she birthed two puppies— it was him who took care of them. i brought red velvet cake.
Helloo! so when i was around 3 apparently my mum cheated on my dad and my dad gave her 3 chances and wll those 3 chances she still cheated and my dad used to lie to me and tell me my mum was studying to become a dentist (she is now) and i also learnt that my mum tried to get my dad arrested by provoking him in a public place so he would shout at her and she could file a case against him. I also learnt that my mothers side grandma told my mum not to divorce my dad(for properties etc) and so my mum put her BP medication in my dads food and now my dad has high BP. my moms enitre family knows all abt her cheating and stayed quiet. when i was 7 and my mum and i were at the airport she brought alcohol claiming it was for her brother but ut actually was for her bf and told me not to tell my dad and gave me chocolate. When i was 6 my mum was arrested for stealing- my dad bailed her out. When i was at school my mum came and told the principal lies abt how my dad abused us. Overall my dad won the case and im with him and i dont see my mum anymore. I brought the skittles.
Im tagging @rottendolliezz @velaenam @whomisi and anyone who wants to be a part of this
Favorite animal - MOUNTAIN GOATS!!! THEYRE SO CUTE I LOVE THEM AND I WANNA SEE A REAL LIFE ONE SOON WHEN I GO TO THE MOUNATINS IN THE SUMMER!!
Favorite fictional character - Shion (saihate station), Ren (14 days with you), Akira (Devilman Crybaby)
And favorite song - The Maiden and the Selkie, You're all Scotch No Soda, THE DRIVER, Dulaman, Rule #23 Birds of a Feather, life is good, READ YOUR DIARY
favorite animal: sea otters or wolves or bunnies !!
favorite fictional characters: PERCY JACKSON, annabeth chase, leo valdez, nico di angelo
favorite song: (as of now) that's a no no (itzy), oh my god (i-dle), superboard (stray kids), cover me (stray kids), blind spot (stray kids), like that (babymonster)
animal- fictional is gumiho and pheonix but irl is fennec fox and panda!
fictional characters-hermione granger, kang saebyeok, usagi, and uhhh keefe sencen (COUGH I CAN DO BETTER THEN SOPHIE KEEFE CMON NOW)
song- 34+35 by ariana, positions by ariana, sheesh by baemon, chkhckboom by skz, gabriela by katseye, divine by skz in my head by skz xo by enha moonstruck by enha still monster by enha fever by enha
Favorite animal - PUPPIES THEY'RE THE SWEETEST CUTEST WIGGLIEST THINGS TO EVER EXIST-
Sea otters <3
Favorite fictional characterS- Uhhh, the list is too long, but my recents-
Mei (my neighbour Totoro), SANEMI MY SMOKIN HOT SALAMI (KNY), HEICHOUUUUUUUUUU Levi Ackermann (AOT), Kita Shinsuke, Kageyama Tobio, Sakusa Kiyoomi (Haikyuu), Toji, CHOSO MY BELOVED (JJK), DABIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII (MHA), Kusuriuri Kon (The medicine seller, Mononoke)
Favorite song - uhhh the one I've been listening to on repeat
Golden brown, Sunsetz, Om Namaha, Titli, and etc.
TAGSSSSS
@sashaaalikescherry, @evthescribbleguy, @kay27-iread, @cheekytownstudios-off-air, @cheekytownstudios, @kugisakinobaradesu, @chihir-chqn, @anyapeanuts4, @and-fishing-equipment, @a-very-mythic-babe, @a-breath-of-pipeweed, @lady-legolas-greenleaf, @lavenderdropp, @rookieloveskashi, @tinysanemi, @hexyissy, @tojiscreampie, @yoursexyyorkshirepudding, @starsoriginalsin, @caffeinated--trauma-ferret , @casuallamppastapizza, @thetinyanimeaxolotl, @beccahasarrived, @muzanswaifu, @faevi or satoru's fairy sorry I don't know ur username 😭,@ginger-snap-doodles + ur favs <3333
