Hiccup x oc oneshots

127- king

some minor context- south moved to berk (which will be a country in america) from russia.she can't speak very good english, and only hiccup knows russian. WARNING- SELF HARM if you don't like, don't read

hiccup is 17, south is 16

no p.o.v

nobody really knew why hiccup haddock was so emanoured with this girl. they were polar opposites. hiccup was the sad, mysterious, tattoo'd boy, and south was the gentle, quiet, shy, foreign girl. the most anyone knew about her is her name. south trader. no one knew where she came from, only that it was somewhere out of state. nobody even knew what these two were. were they friends? step- siblings? a couple? people always asked hiccup, but he's just narrow his eyes and say "none of your business" and lead her away.

hiccup's p.o.v

it's night. i place down my bloodied razor blade and stare at my arm for a moment. the cuts are obscuring my tattoo, which kinda pisses me off, but i can't stop. i don't want to stop. south is fast asleep, and i'm glad, because she could never know about this. she'd hate me. i sigh and run the tap over the cuts, relishing the stinging sensation it brings me. once the blood is gone, i wrap it in a bandage and cover it with my sleeve before heading back into the bedroom. to my surprise, south is levered up on her elbows, looking around. the covers are draped around her nude body, and she looks at me.

"good?" she asks, her voice tinted heavily by her russian accent. i smile lightly at her.

"don't worry, sweetheart. go back to sleep" i tell her in russian. she nods and slides back down, and i get in next to her, bringing her body to mine. the air is a little stangnant, small evidence of a night of heat and passion. she never notices the scars through the heat and tattoos. that, or she never says anything. her naked back presses against my chest. her finger trails across my hand.

"i love you" she says, making me smile.

"i love you too, baby. go back to sleep" i kiss the top of her head. she nods and sighs. i soon feel her breathing slow, but tonight is one of those night where i can't sleep, so i lay awake, holding her. with every inhale comes her soft smell of honey and lavender, yet her skin has a creamy smell, it's some sort of moisturiser she uses so her skin is always soft and supple. sometimes i question how a sorry sight like me deserves such a beauty like her, when i remember we didn't choose this. our fathers forced us to get married and yet, i stayed in america while she lived in russia. over the 4 year course of our marriage, i took two hour classes every day to learn russian, yet she was never able to get any english classes. she's doing an amazing job. i'm not sure why our fathers forced our marriage. russia has stricter laws about forced marriage than america, so she flew here. i first met her at the wedding, when i was stood in the courthouse. she was as beautiful at age 14 as she is now. she was forced back to russia after 4 months, even though she has a green card, her father wanted her home, so we were forced apart, despite us saying we wanted to stay together, because we loved each other even then. we skyped every day using a translator, and she was allowed to visit every so often, until she turned 16 and was allowed to do what she wanted, so she came here. it's funny, people always ask me what she is to me, and where she's from and things like that. i never tell, but i like seeing what they can come up with. finally, as the first light begins to dawn, i slip into an easy sleep.

the next morning.

my alarm goes off, and i let out a small groan, clutching south tighter. she yawns and turns around.

"baby, we have to wake up" she whispers.

"no... i don't want to" i whine. she gives a small laugh.