#There will be plenty of whump kisses between the two

[ohanny]

pitbabetober whump edition

day 3

SET UP FOR FAILURE

FINGERPRINTS I WRONGFULLY ARRESTED

“I WARNED YOU”

kenta / kim. pg13. 818 words.

during his captivity, kenta visits kim exactly once.

by then kim’s lost the track of time. he’s huddled in a corner like a kicked dog and very much feels like one with the way his entire body is one big, throbbing bruise. he doesn’t even know if it's day or night when kenta finally slinks in. the older man closes the door quietly and pauses, arms folded awkwardly in front of himself.        

“i’m –"

“i don’t want to hear it.”

kim is shocked to hear how raspy his voice is but guess that’s what stubbornly refusing to say a word and choking down your screams while getting beaten up by thugs does to your vocal chords. it also hasn’t put him in a particularly forgiving mood. he has half the mind to drag himself upright and try something stupid but it’d be a waste of time and energy. he knows he won't be allowed to leave and while kenta would probably let him get in a punch or two, he's way too weak to make it count. instead he tilts his head back and settles on a withering glare.                      

“i warned you,” kenta tells him. “i told you to back off.”

kim scoffs. sure, kenta had shut him down every time he asked questions - why me? what’s tony’s deal with the x-hunters? is babe being targeted? how did you get that bruise? - but there's a big difference between a more or less gentle “mind your own business” and a “hey, honey, i am involved in human trafficking and black-market organ trade, you're gonna get yourself killed.”

not that it would've made much of a difference. kim can admit he is really fucking stupid when it comes to certain things. he would've gone at it differently, though, with plenty of backup. and less feelings caught during secret midnight dates. probably. even now he can't quite bring himself to regret those nights.

“i tried to keep you safe,” the older man pleads.

 “and did you ever stop to consider i might have been trying to do the same? that i wanted to get you out?” kim hisses, finally looking kenta in the eye. “i saw all the scars. i knew you were in some kind of trouble and figured it must be your father pulling the strings.” he laughs humorlessly. “but instead you were right up there with him, weren’t you? giving the orders.”

kenta flinches but hurting him back isn’t as satisfying as kim would have thought. he knows the older man isn’t a monster because a monster wouldn’t be on the verge of tears right now. but kenta isn’t a very good person. he’s a spineless coward who was beaten into submission a long time ago and if violently kidnapping his lover to drag him to the wolves didn’t snap kenta out of it, kim isn’t sure anything ever will.

“i’ll get you out,” kenta tells him quietly. “i promise, kim. i won't let you die here.” 

he sounds like he actually believes it but for kim it rings hollow. he looks down and stares at his bruised hands. he busted his knuckles during the fight in his hotel room and henchman #1 broke two of his fingers when he made a go for the man’s gun in the elevator. his eyes travel down to his knee that is visibly swollen and certainly fucked up. he’s no expert but he's pretty sure if he doesn’t receive medical attention soon, the damage will be permanent, in which case he'd have to kiss his career as a top racer goodbye. kenta keeping him alive doesn’t really matter if he doesn’t have a life to return to. 

that zaps the fight out of kim. he lets his body tilt all the way to the right until he's laying on the floor, back to the wall, all curled up to keep himself warm and protected. it's exhausting, being this angry all the time. he figures he's allowed to take a small break to wallow in self-pity now so that he can keep fighting the good fight tomorrow. or later today. fuck, he really wishes he had a window.    

“please leave,” he whispers and closes his eyes.

kenta calls his name for the last time. it comes out so soft, like a prayer, and kim's mind flashes to kenta that night they first fell into bed together – wide-eyed and shy, inexperienced but oh so desperate to please. but that memory is tainted now by kenta standing his ground next to tony. he made his choice. he didn’t even blink when he handed over the knife that could easily have ended kim's life right then and there. he bites his lip and says nothing as kenta finally walks away.

the door to his cell closes and kim is left alone. he should be relieved but somehow it hurts more than all his injuries combined.                

[obey-me-headquarters]

Horny thoughts, you say? I've got plenty of those. So I'm a massive slut for trauma play and I just. Gentle trauma play bondage with Satan. Him re-experiencing that feeling of helplessness and being trapped, but this time, someone he trusts is guiding him through it. Bonus if he starts crying at some point, so ofc you ask if he needs to stop, but no, these are good tears. He knows he's safe.

Maybe give him a handjob while praising him, tell him how proud you are of him and how good he is for you. All the things he needed to be told as a "child".

Ohhhhh, I love this!!! I really, really like gentle whump smut, so I think I get what you mean by "trauma play"

Ok, but imagine Satan shyly coming up to you and asking if you would be willing to try bondage with him. And after a very long conversation about boundaries and his comfort level, you agree to try it out.

So you start slowly, your force bondage scene can hardly be called "bondage", as you just tie one of his hands to the headboard with a tie. The knot being loose, easy to slip out of if Satan wanted to. And that makes Satan even more aware of it, how he has to make an effort to stay tied. Instead of fighting against the binding, he has to make the constant choice to stay bound.

So every time doubt crawls in, everytime the fabric shifts against his wrist in a way that makes his stomach drop, he's reminded that you will never forcibly hold him down. That it's always his choice.

The more times you two try bondage, the more "extreme" you get. Working from loose ties with fabric he could snap in an instant to strong rope. Most of these don't even have sex in them, with the main focus being Satan's safety. So you have him kneel with his hands tied against his back, your hands gently threading through his hair as you whisper praise into his ear.

At first, those scenes were short, no more than 5 minutes, as fear and doubt slowly started to creep. But as more moved on, he started getting bolder, started to associate the feel of rope against his skin with you, with safety.

Until he's comfortable enough to be completely tied to the bed. Naked and vulnerable, with you sitting between his legs. Your hands tracing up and down his thighs, never breaking skin contact. A constant reminder of "I'm here, it's ok, you're safe."

For once in his life, Satan feels safe and trapped. For once, he feels excited as he feels the shackles around his wrist.

You giving a hand job, whispering praise all the while. How he's a good boy, your good boy. How you're so so so proud of him. And when he starts to tear up, you're there to kiss the tears away

[eirianerisdar]

not a question but I just had to tell you that Icarus is my favourite piece of literature ever. the concept as a whole is *chef’s kiss*, and as a lover of all things Charlos and an absolute sucker for platonic intimacy, your story is perfection. kudos is not enough i want to climb through the screen and hug you for writing it xx

Thank you for your love of Icarus! I'm about halfway through writing the next chapter but real life dermatology diploma + extra work presentations + I'm supposed to be on holiday is getting in the way. I'm grateful for everyone's patience these last two weeks.

Icarus started out as only Maxiel-centric but nearly every platonic driver pairing has crept in, lol. Charlos is just so. Easy to write platonic intimacy for. I mean look at the IRL content they give us for free.

While the next chapter is mostly focused on Daniel and Max I want you to know there is a 20,000 word Charlos outtake section between this last chapter and the next that I will write as an add-on after the end of the whole fic (covering 2022 French GP and the summer break). It's indulgent whump and hurt/comfort and platonic intimacy and codependency and I would have put it directly in the main fic if it wasn't for the fact it would throw off the pacing. It has Carlos and Charles literally having a heart-to-heart overlooking a sunset Madrid vineyard with Piñon romping around their feet, for goodness' sake.

There'll still be plenty of Charlos in the fic, but this particular section will be tagged on to the end of the fic in extra outtake chapters.

[a-crumb-of-whump]

ANB Drabble: Adam's Treehouse

A New Beginning Masterlist | Comfortember Masterlist | @comfortember

~ Comfortember | Day 5: Treehouse ~

Content: Implied minor whump, loss of bodily autonomy, parental whumper, minor implications of childhood (sexual) abuse, suicidal ideations.

This takes place when Ryker is nineteen. No actual minor whump takes place, nor are there any graphic conversations about it, but it is implied.

-

Nobody had been able to get in touch with Adam today. Ryker tried, through his own phone and by getting their friends to contact him as well. Nothing worked. 

So after waiting out most of the morning in hopes of a response, he said his goodbyes to Carlos and grabbed his bag before starting in the direction of Adam’s place, hoping he’d find him hiding out in the one place only he knew about. If not, he’d have to ring the doorbell and potentially speak with his partner’s mother, someone who he really did not like and who did not like him back. 

Quietly, he snuck past the front of the house and trekked down to the gate at the bottom of their backyard. It was rusty and creaked with every movement, meaning that if Adam was where he thought he was, he would definitely have heard him coming. 

Sure enough, a head appeared a few seconds later from up in one of the largest trees on their property. It was home to one of Adam’s few safe spaces. A treehouse filled with emergency food, old bedding and all the plushies he’d ever collected over the years. The moment he saw it, Ryker visibly lit up and began trudging through the long grass to get to the treehouse, relieved just to see his face. 

After hooking his bag on one of the smaller branches, he climbed his way up the permanent steel ladder that was there and was met with a light kiss upon making it to the top. 

“Whatcha doin’ here?” Adam asked quietly as they both crept through the archway that led to the inside. To block out unnecessary light, the piece of fabric that he used as a makeshift door went up, meaning the only light now was coming from the window on their right. “Not used to you coming by without an invite.” 

Ryker hummed, already seated in the corner where all the bedding and plushies were kept. “Was concerned. Everyone’s been sending you messages but you never responded to any of them.” 

“Ah. That would be because I got my phone confiscated.” There was some obvious agitation as he said it. Without waiting for Ryker to get comfortable, he collapsed dramatically on top of him and let out a heavy sigh that could be felt against the younger man’s chest. 

It wasn’t often that he initiated contact like this. Ryker didn’t move, concerned that one wrong touch would have him getting up again just as he got settled. It wasn’t until Adam guided his arm around his neck, hand naturally settling on his shoulder, that he relaxed a little and nuzzled his nose against his temple. 

“Isn’t it embarrassing?” he eventually heard him mumble. “Still under my mother’s control in my fucking twenties.” 

“We’ll get out eventually.” He chose not to comment on the things he didn’t agree with. They’d spoken about it plenty of times in the past and it was clear by now that it wasn’t helpful. “Another year or two and we’ll be on our own, doing everything we haven’t gotten the chance to do yet. I promise.” 

Adam’s voice was slightly muffled against the fabric of his shirt. “Like what?” 

“Well… I’m gonna take you to the beach, for starters.” He ran the palm of his hand lightly up and down the smaller man’s arm a few times, a way of soothing him some more. “We’re gonna watch the waves and play in the sand and find shells ‘n’ shit. You’ll be free to dye your hair eventually, too, if you still want it by the time we’re gone.” 

Adam’s hair was soft and light in between his fingers, allowing him to push it out of his face a little in a way that caused him to hum thickly. “I’ve always wanted that.” 

“I know,” Ryker murmured, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as he thought back to all the times Adam had talked about eventually colouring his hair. It wasn’t even just about changing the colour itself. He just wanted control over his body and what happened to it. Right now, with their current living circumstances, that was far from possible. “I’ll eventually be able to afford ongoing medication for my ADHD. We’ll both be able to get jobs and keep whatever money we make. How exciting is that?” 

It wasn’t until he felt a few damp drops on his shirt that he realised Adam had started to cry. He brought him a little closer and allowed the small smile to curve back into a frown, his heart sinking as the man’s fingers gripped at his shirt. 

Just as he went to apologise for upsetting him, Adam shakily spoke up. “It all seems so far away,” he whispered. “I can’t see myself even being alive this time next year, let alone planning to move. You know?”

“Yeah.” Ryker forced himself to swallow the growing lump in his throat, and he adjusted his position a little so they were better able to look at each other before reaching out a hand to wipe at Adam’s tears with his sleeve. “I can’t either.”

"So, what do we do?"

The younger man shrugged numbly. "I don't know. I suppose the most honest I answer I have is that we'll just have to make it through every day until we eventually realise that we can leave."

It clearly wasn't the answer Adam wanted, though it was the answer he'd been expecting. For a moment Ryker assumed that he was going to pull away as the expression on his face deepened and his eyes started to dampen. However, instead he pushed himself even closer and tucked his face away against his chest with a small, depressed noise.

Neither of them said another word. The lingering fear and anxiety in the atmosphere, blanketing them in a way that felt just as suffocating as if it were real, said more than their words ever could.

-

Comfortember taglist: @topsheepstudent

ANB Taglist: @choppedflowermuffinchild @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @emcscared-whumps @espresso-depresso-system @inkkswhumpandstuff @lumariane @pigeonwhumps @pumpkin-spice-whump @roblingoblin285 @sacredwrath @some-thrilling-heroics @stabby-nunchucks @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @trans-writes @whump-blog @whumpsday @whumpshaped @paniatheweirdone @whumpycries @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @thekittyburger @whumpdreamz

[constant-brain-fog]

I was looking through your TBB art with the boys again as a pick-me-up and just wanted to, once again, tell you how much I love the pieces you've done with them. The Crosshair gets hugs from his brothers one is my favorite still.

The affection between the boys, especially between Hunter and Tech with Crosshair still means so much to me. Both hugs hold so much emotion in them and are so much of what I wish we could have/some day may have in the show. But with that unlikely, I will always cherish that hug piece you gave us and how different each hug is, and the emotion within them.

Your pieces are just nice to return to when I need some soft TBB content.

Then the piece with Crosshair saving Tech after he's injured is fun whump for Tech that I enjoy as much as the soft hug piece you drew. I always look forward to more pieces of your take on the boys, especially Tech, Crosshair and Hunter. If you ever need any ideas, I am starved for more soft content between the brothers.

A forehead kiss or hongi kiss, more hugs, all that warms my heart and looks so good in your style. No matter what, I always hope to see more of your TBB art.

Have a pleasant week!

ngl this right there made me cry T-T

I basically haven’t been drawing for two whole months, and it’s been a bit rough, I’m finally getting back into it and honestly, this right there might make me come back even sooner! You have no idea how every other message you’ve sent my way has been living rent free in my head 🥹

heart so full love plenty! <3

If you have headcanons or things you’d want me to draw, pls pls pls send them my way I’ll try my best to do them! My DMs are always open!

I hope you have an absolute banger of a week! A million kisses on your forehead 💕

[toothbrushfingers]

Lureabies: Chapter One

Not really sure if this counts as fluff or whump but you

get the jist

Note: I don’t have an account on ao3 (might make one in the future idk) so i have to post the whole thing her

Takes place shortly after httyd 2

Characters: Snotlout Jorgenson, Åse Haddock (oc)

Summary: Snotlout and Åse are chased by dragon trappers into an unfamiliar part of the woods, when suddenly they find they can no longer keep themselves awake. / Mild Spoiler v

Lureaby dragons (original species) lure them in and poison them

Sorry any mistakes, enjoy :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They’re surrounded. This was just supposed to be a scouting mission, but they were spotted by trappers. There were maybe 40.. 50 of them, and it was only Åse and Snotlout. The others sat on the other, far side of the island waiting for them to return, and it wasn’t a very small island by any means.

A few moons past, Hiccup had heard word of a large band of dragon trappers left over from Draco’s fleet, camping out on this island; trapping dragons and selling them to various buyers for various reasons at various prices. He’d sent Snotlout and Åse to scout them out to be sure the rumors were true. If they were, they’d deal with them. And as Åse and Snotlout soon found, they were indeed true.

The hunters made chase, but never once fired one of their many cross bows at the two vikings. Only holding them at the ready. But seeing as they were severely outnumbered, the two ran for it. Goldwing and Hookfang had been hovering above the trees a few yards behind them, out of sight prior. The Berkians had originally planned on hopping on their dragons and taking off, but that was now out of the question. The dragons couldn’t get to them through the thick forest canopy and anytime they tried to even get close, the trappers would fire what seemed to be dragon root arrows. Lovely. And if either dragon fired? More arrows. They had to stay out of arrow range, but that also meant out of blasting range.

They were surrounded at every side but front, so run they did. It was almost as if the trappers were herding them somewhere, but they didn’t have time to worry about that now.

Soon they came to a bramble, and assuming the trappers wouldn’t follow them in, they dove in head first, crawling towards safety. Thankfully it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. Snotlout would know, he’s fallen into plenty of unforgiving bushes. And they were right, those trappers turned on their heels in defeat and retreated. After a few seconds of dragging themselves along the dirt, they found themselves in a bit of an odd clearing. Large trees stood around them, blocking them in at all sides, only allowing small bits of golden sun reaching in the kiss their leaves. They’d definitely never been here before.

“Can you uh.. see.. a way out?” Åse spoke, winded. She realized they hadn’t spoken that entire time, only using some hand signals to communicate. “Uhhhh,” Snotlout looked around as he hunched over, hands on his knees, lungs begging for more air than they could take in, “yeah- Yeah! Over there..!” He pointed with an exhausted enthusiasm to a small clearing between trees. It was reminiscent of a path, thought the ground not worn.

The two trudge forward at the same pace, calling for their dragons. But neither came. They couldn’t help but worry for them and hope they’d just gone for help. Surely the trappers couldn’t have gotten them.. Right..?

They followed that path for what seemed like years, making note of the glowing sun fading in and out between sweet smelling branches.

The two walked in silence now, hand in hand, equally exhausted, when Åse suddenly stopped, seemingly frozen in place. Snotlout turned see her, confused. “Are you ok?” “Shh shh! Do you hear that?” she held a finger in the air and looked around silently. “Alright, I think you’re a little more tired than you thought cause-“ She cut him off by waving her hands around him and quickly pressing a stiff finger to her lips. Snotlout, concerned and confused, looked around. It had been maybe 10 seconds when he started to try and speak again, quickly cutting himself off as he heard a soft humming sound.

He turned to her, eyes wide and brows knit tightly together. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but he couldn’t quite find any sound in his throat. All he could do was follow the noise, intrigued.

“Wha- Lout! Where are.. you.. going..?” Åse found herself becoming just as curious as he was, taking his hand once more and following his lead further on into the trees. The humming continued, growing louder with each step they took.

After a bit of walking, they found themselves in a small field of grass and flowers, surrounded by more trees and every side. The trees were dark and shrouded; usually either of them would be frightened, but oddly enough they each felt strangely calm.

Åse spun on her heels, glancing around. “Whoa,” Snotlout began, “Ah! What the-“ “Hm?” Åse turned to see Snotlout waving lethargic hands around his head. “Bugs?” She asked, having no energy to say much more. “No.. something… something sprayed.. me..” Snotlout’s movements became more and more sloppy as he clumsily made his way to Åse., booted feet not wanting to cooperate.

Noticing, she met him half way, catching him as he fell forward. He mumbled nonsense to himself, eyes dancing around his head like a baby seeing color for the first time. “Lout? Hey! Hey look at me,” She snapped fingers in his face, watching him hardly react, becoming increasingly more worried, “Lout what’s going on? Talk to m-“ Åse was cut off by a strong mist hitting her in the face from seemingly nowhere.

After a moment, Åse was beginning to understand what was happening to Snotlout. She suddenly felt 1000 times more exhausted than she had before, eyes begging to shut. All the colors around her became more vibrant, spinning round and round with her head. She should’ve been scared, but she could only feel joy. Pure euphoria. Her brain was full of thick, unforgiving fog. It blocked out most coherent thoughts until she could no longer hold herself up. She settled in near Snotlout, who at some point had lost his helmet ‘When did that happen?’. Heads together, feet pointing in opposite directions.

Snotlout looked up to her, grinning a giddy-ish grin, before raising an arm lazily to play with her auburn hair. He giggled in a sense, before lazily mumbling loving nonsense. His words were unclear, but Åse knew what he meant. She grinned, raised an arm to cup his face. After a moment, his eyes slid closed, and his arm dropped. Before Åse could even try to be alarmed, her body gave in and she succumbed to the comforting darkness that had been begging her to be let in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed chapter one, hopefully chapter two’ll be up tomorrow but no promises 😉

[itssoinevitable]

I just want to add something to anon number 2 (and how they might solve that relationship between Gerald and Audrey). Been thinking about the kiss ever since the Christmas Special (like we all do) and I agree that she cannot simply dismiss it as a mistake. However, I also believe that she would not abandon Siegfried now that Tristan has gone. I think her sense of duty is so high that she would put that over the relationship with Gerald. After all, Skeldale has been the place where she finally found happiness and a (surrogate) family again. So in my ideal little fangirl world, she lets Gerald go to Hull, explains to him that she has made the hard decision to stay in Darrowby and that, although she cares for him a lot, she cannot leave her family again. This would be the only logical solution for me right now. And it would be so lovely if Gerald is the catalyst that made Siegfried realise that he feels more for Audrey than he can admit right now.

@owlsie-hoot is that you?? omg long time! So happy to hear from an old mutual & friend. Also yes yes yes, beautifully put! 100% agreed that Audrey will not abandon Siegfried or Skeldale House. Not just out of a sense of duty, but from a place of loyalty and love. Like you said, she found happiness and family here. She clearly loves Tristan like her own son, and a mother would always wait for her child to come home. And she loves Siegfried too, so much, in whatever way it may be. She has set down roots at Darrowby, and she feels it is her home.

That said, I'd kind of like to see her struggle with it a bit. ( not too long, maybe just an episode or two. ) I'm so torn between wanting a lowkey exit for Gerald, and a scenario where he does ask her to marry him and go to Hull. Actually, the Season 3 CS kind of already framed it that way because it put a lot of pressure on Audrey to choose a side of herself, so to speak, and to choose between the two men in her life. There was urgency for both parties, with Tristan receiving his call up letter and Gerald leaving for Hull.

Imo it very was poignant that Audrey stayed as long as it was strictly a family issue; when Tristan and Siegfried were having their big showdown in the kitchen. But then, when Siegfried was alone and hoping to process his feelings with her after, she felt she was out of time and chose to find Gerald instead. ( painful as it was, I am glad she did something for herself this once. also if it helps Siegfried realise what an oaf he is, all the better. ) I just hope that if she has to make a similar decision again on a bigger scale, with higher stakes, that there should be something else on the table making her stay. ( like the quiet realisation that Siegfried has deeper feelings for her, even if they aren't ready to go there yet. )

Yesss, I definitely think Gerald is going to be one of the factors that makes Siegfried realise his feelings for Audrey in Season 4! Although I don't think it will be a big whump epiphany kind of moment, do you? I was recently rewatching Season 2, where Diana is in the first couple of episodes, and I really hope it will be more like that tbh. Because Audrey actually bristles every single time they're in the same room together, or anytime Siegfried even mentions Diana. I mean, this is a woman who is literally supportive of everyone; she is so understanding when James is pursuing Helen, always encouraging when Tristan likes a girl. But to Diana, who is never been nothing but nice to her -- she really can't stand Diana. She does warm up eventually, but it’s interesting to have had her dislike someone that much to begin with.

And I really hope we're going to see a Siegfried version of that next season. Lots of jealous bristling, but also his signature tantrums and explosions, plenty of shouting about something completely different, when he's actually angry with himself Gerald and terrified he's going to lose Audrey. Everything he used to do with his repressed love for Tristan, but now he does that with Audrey.

[musclesandhammering]

“Sylki isn’t even a m/f pairing cause they’re both genderfluid!”

↘️ I really really wanted Loki to be canon genderfluid, but the problem with that is that in Ep 5, they do everything in their power to make both Loki and Sylvie seem Very Very cis. All the Loki’s straight up say they’ve never seen a female version of themselves, and Sylvie says that she was born a woman (and never shows any sign of presenting as anything else). Even if Ep 5 hadn’t happened, though, the only mention of anything gender-related is a little Easter egg in Loki’s file that says “Sex: Fluid”. Easily missed by a casual viewer, so not much confirmation at all.

“You’re biphobic if you have a problem with Sylki!”

↘️ Putting aside the fact that I’m actually bi myself… In real life, it’s totally valid for a bisexual person to only date the opposite sex, but on screen “Show, don’t tell.” is the golden rule. There are plenty of problems with Sylki other than the fact that it’s a m/f ship. However, it’s extremely frustrating for queer people to see the writers patting themselves on the back for giving us one (1) throwaway line that can be easily edited out for homophobic audiences, and then to see absolutely no further acknowledgment of Loki’s supposed attraction to men, along with him being shown openly flirting with 2 different women. It just seems awfully convenient to be able to tell and not show where m/m is concerned and then to show m/f where it isn’t even necessary.

“You just hate that a woman got in the way of your two white dudes kissing!”

↘️ If Sylvie was the main character and she had pretty good chemistry with a woman, and then all of a sudden a male variant of her was introduced and a romance was forced between them, I’d be pretty pissed about that too. I don’t want Sylvie out of the picture! My ideal scenario would be her and Loki being Chaos Twins. And I don’t even want Lokius to be canon! Again, my ideal scenario would be Chaos Twins with their best friend/handler Mobi. This isn’t about her getting in the way of another pairing, it’s about how this pairing in particular is just Not It.

“You just want Loki for yourself, you’d be mad at anyone he was paired with!”

↘️ No I… really don’t? I’m gonna get mauled for saying this, but I don’t even find Loki particularly attractive. Tom? Sure. But Loki? Mmmm… not exactly. Aesthetically pleasing maybe. Intellectually I know that he’s pretty hot, but he doesn’t do anything for me :/ I also really really hate reader inserts sooo yeah lol. And if you’ve seen my blog you’d know I ship him with a lot of people, both male and female.

“Sylvie is her own person so it’s not really selfcest!”

↘️ Except the writers have gone out of their way to make it clear that they are the same person. Not exactly the same, but they’re similar enough that it’s clear that they’re versions of each other. Plus they canonically have the same parents, very very similar DNA, and essentially the same basic origin (adopted, Asgard, etc). They’re not exact clones of one another but they very much are slightly different models of the same person.

“Selfcest isn’t the same as incest!”

↘️ No, it’s even worse lmao. Imagine two people that share parents, DNA, and some life experiences, but they’re even closer than twins…. Lol yeah.

“Ok but you gotta admit selfcest is pretty in character for Loki lololol”

↘️ No it’s not… One of my favourite things about Loki in all 6 movies is that he never had a love interest. Never even a hint of a love interest. And even in this show he makes it clear that he’s never really been in love before- never had anything “real”. And, this considered, people saying that it makes sense that his first and only canon love interest would be a version of himself implies that he’s incredibly narcissistic. Which, despite what some shitty writers try to tell us, he’s not. His narcissism is performative. It’s posturing. He’s incredibly insecure and self-loathing and that ends up manifesting as violence in some instances, and that’s his whole problem. The exact opposite of narcissism. Quite honestly, Loki would never trust or even like himself enough to be romantically interested.

“You just want Loki whump, you hate to see him happy!”

↘️ I do enjoy Loki whump on occasion, but at this point we maxed out on the whump meter about 3 movies back… I absolutely want this poor man to be happy, for once in his damn life. And the show gives us everything but that. Just like people said Ragnarok gave us a happy Loki, when in reality all we got was a humiliated Loki that was beaten down even further to build other characters up and give the audience a laughs… which is pretty much exactly what’s happening here. Not all the time! There’s some super progressive moments for his character development and mental health, but overall? The show isn’t giving us a happy Loki at all, and Sylki definitely hasn’t resulted in a happier Loki so far.

“They have great chemistry though!”

↘️ I’m sure any two characters could have good chemistry if the writing team put 85% percent of their effort for the whole show into squishing a man and woman together and making them kiss, even going so far as to build the plot around it, when they could’ve spent their time and energy improving other aspects of the series.

“Ok you have to admit the blanket scene was pretty cute!”

↘️ Yes, I will admit that! It was adorable actually! But given the myriad of issues I listed above, one cute scene isn’t enough to make me hate the ship any less.

[reddieweek]

Reddie fans, get ready!

This will be the third annual Reddie Week! It is a prompt-based challenge designed to encourage creators to create, and to show appreciation for those in our fandom. There will be a week’s worth of prompts, and a two-week posting period starting 12 September 2021 - 25 September 2021 with a total of 21 prompts (3 per day) to choose from.

In order to avoid fatigue, this year you will have two full days to post content pertaining to that day’s prompt. Which should hopefully give you plenty of rest time in between creating!

All types of fanworks are welcome (writing, visual art, fanmixes, etc.), the only criteria is that they must feature both Richie and Eddie. We ask that you properly warn for anything potentially triggering. Please have the warnings at the top of your post somewhere, and in your tags.

Please feel free to follow this account for reminders, and to see reblogs of everyone’s work. You can share you work by tagging it #reddieweek or tagging @reddieweek in your post.

Any questions? (See our FAQ for extra info!) Concerns? Ideas you want to share? Send this blog an ask or message the mods: @eddieeatsass​ and @fuji09​​

For ease of planning, the prompts are as follows:

Day 1&2 : Accidental Dating / FBI Monitor AU / I'm Your Biggest Fan

Day 3&4: Whump / The Chosen One / Regency AU

Day 5&6: Doppelgänger / High School Sweethearts / De-Aging

Day 7&8: Ancient Egypt or Greece / Space AU / Tunnel of Love

Day 9&10: Mythical Creature / Shop AU (coffee shop, bakery, florist, etc.) / Bachelor Auction

Day 11&12: Dark AU / Game Night / Spaghetti Kiss

Day 13&14: Boarding School AU / Blind Without 'Em / Underwater Ruins

We also have an AO3 collection which we encourage you to add your fanworks to! Where to keep up to date outside of tumblr: Discord and AO3 ♥  We hope you’re all as excited as we are! Happy creating!   ♥

[witchersgoldenbard]

1&12&15&25

is it too much sry i couldnt choose i wanted to ask u all of them <3

it' never too much hi nonnie ily 💛

FANFIC END OF THE YEAR ASKS

1 - favorite fic you wrote this year

Oh, I gotta be honest with you, it has to be Tell Me About The Light Behind my Eyes. An obvious choice, seeing as it's my wip of 60k words and counting, but I got to explore so much through this story. I made friends in the comments section and it really was my gateway into the whole fandom. If you know me, you know I never really stop talking about this story - and I'll take this moment to make a formal apology to everyone who has ever talked to me :D

12 - favourite character to write about this year

To the surprise of no one, I sure love to whump that bard. And to make him happy. And to see the world through his eyes. Jaskier is my beloved and chaotic projection screen, and I love him so, so much.

15 - something you learned this year

Oh, there are so many things I've learned hhh where to start?

One of the things I learned through Light, and this is gonna sound cheesy, is that sometimes healing is not about fixing. Sometimes healing is all about creating a safe space for yourself or someone else to fall apart. Sometimes healing is more painful than the initial ache. But healing is always, always, about some kind of love.

Something else I've learned is that being vulnerable is important and almost always worth it. If I can let these characters be weak and vulnerable, if I can explore their trauma and the way they respond to life, then I can do the same for me. It's really all about projection, innit.

And another thing I've learned is that I am indeed a multishipper :D I wasn't before I joined the Witcher fandom, but now look at me, they've all kissed each other 😌

and so many more things but hhh the question was for one thing and already i failed

25 - a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read

one of my favourite fics, that i still think about to this day, is

The Lesser Evil by @dont-tempt-me-frodo (E | 78k)

1674 and piracy is rife throughout the Caribbean. Plenty of work for a Pirate Hunter such as Geralt. But when he takes a contract to hunt down a pirate captain who is interfering with important trade, a harsh truth arrises that will question his morals and he will be forced to choose between two evils, and risk the one thing he never thought he would find. Love.

And the entire Geralt Deserves Soft Things series by bedalk05

This series is almost entirely pure fluff, featuring shifter!Jaskier and a whole lotta cuddles and feels all around. Most of these can be read as a stand-alone

drop me some more asks if you want

[detectivejay-chuckles-halstead]

Forty-Eight // Jay Halstead x Reader

Description: Jay was the one to find you.

Warnings: Major Character Death. Major Whump.

Words: 2898

Pairings: Jay Halstead x Reader

A/N: I just hurt myself. I am sorry...

A little more than forty-eight hours ago, he was waking up next to you in bed. The sheets were tangled around you both as sleep slowly left, allowing the daylight to wake you. Your bare skin was against his, warm and soft. It was familiar, comfortable. He never wanted to let you go, kissing along your neck, sure to make you both late for work. 

A passion filled night turning into a lazy morning. He was sure you’d be late for work, but being so close to you was more than worth it. Traffic could be to blame, or a faulty alarm clock. Anything but the truth. Though, it didn’t matter. The connection between you two was magical, something nobody could deny. Not even Voight. 

Forty-eight hours ago, you were sitting at your desk across from his, laughing at a joke Adam made. Your hair pulled back to keep it out of your face, save for one strand that never wanted to listen. Jay couldn’t help but stare, not sure how he got so lucky to not only have you as his partner, his friend, his confidant, but the woman he got to share a bed with. He had to be the luckiest guy in the world, his eye catching yours as you directed that smile at him. 

Forty-seven hours ago, a case came calling. A young woman dead in an abandoned house in Austin. She had y/h/c hair, similar complexion. If he was being honest, she could have probably been your sister if you’d had one. 

Forty-six hours ago, the two of you were in the car, driving back to station to start working on leads to catch her killer.

Forty-five hours ago, you sat on your desk as her picture was taped to the white-board, brow furrowed. He knew every case hit you in a different way. You just wanted to make the world a better place, make Chicago safer every day. It was your home. 

Thirty-seven hours ago, the two of you dragged yourself back to your shared apartment, exhausted from the day’s work. There was no passion that night. Instead, it was groans as you laid down in bed. A quick kiss goodnight, before holding each other until sleep overtook you. 

Twenty-eight hours ago, they’d gotten a lead, but you weren’t there. Nobody was worried because you’d promised to bring them lunch. That’s what you were doing -- or what they thought you were doing. 

Twenty-seven hours ago, Jay started getting worried. You should have been back by then, but you were nowhere to be found. Your phone went straight to voicemail. The tracker on your car still had you at the restaurant, though a call to the manager said otherwise. He said you’d left almost an hour ago. 

Twenty-five hours ago, a note showed up in a box left on Trudy’s desk. How nobody saw who dropped it off would always be a mystery to Jay. Maybe if they’d paid attention, or if it hadn’t been as busy, or if the cameras were at the right angle they would have been able to see. Instead, they were left with a box with a picture of you. Ropes were around your wrists, gag in your mouth. Jay could swear he saw tears on your cheeks, though nobody else did. Maybe it was his imagination, but he knew there would be no sleep until you were home in his arms. 

Twenty hours ago, they caught their first big lead, leading them to an abandoned house in Garfield Park with no sign of you anywhere. Jay felt like he couldn’t breathe, didn’t know what to do besides work himself to the bone to find you. Again, there would be no sleep for him until you were home. 

Fifteen hours ago, Voight yelled at the team. Why couldn’t they find a single lead, a single clue that would lead them back to you. Jay didn’t want to imagine what your captors were doing, based on what the autopsy revealed on their first victim. Your picture was taped next to yours. Top priority. Intelligence wasn’t the only team looking for you, far from it. Every team in Chicago was looking for you. You were one of their own. 

Ten hours ago, Voight told him to sleep, even if it was on the couch in the break room. Jay was no good if he couldn’t keep his eyes open. He’d been staring at the picture on the white-board, your picture from the day you graduated the academy. It would be the same picture at your funeral if they didn’t find you in time. Jay didn’t sleep well, but got a couple hours. When he woke, he knew that was wasted time. 

Four hours ago, they finally caught their big break in the case. A disgruntled criminal you’d arrested early in your career had gotten parole. They were narrowing down where he could be keeping you.

Three hours ago, the team was getting ready in the dungeon as you so called it. Jay was strapping his vest on, not even letting Voight entertain the idea of taking him off the case. He was going to be there when they found you. He was going to be there for you, to make sure you were okay even if you weren’t. He was going to be there for you even if you were never okay again. 

An hour ago, he sat in the car next to Voight. Neither man said anything on the drive to the address. Jay’s hands were steady despite his heart pounding. Soon. Soon you’d be back in his arms. Soon, he’d be taking you home and making sure you were okay. Soon. That’s what he told himself. Soon. 

Twenty minutes...Thirty minutes ago, they were parking their cars just a couple blocks away as to not spook their suspect. Voight was directing them on the plan, who was with who. Where each team was going. Voight put Jay with Kim. It was go-time.

Ten minutes ago, Jay was the first to breach the house, gun drawn with Kim right behind him. Room by room, they cleared the basement and first floor before moving to the second. His heart pounded in his ears. So far, it didn’t seem like you were there. 

Two minutes ago, Jay finally reached the second floor. His hand was on the doorknob of one of the upstairs rooms, knowing you were going to be there. It was the last room of the house. He didn’t hear the radio going off, telling them the suspect was found dead in the backyard. His hand turned the knob, pushing the door open. 

One minute ago, Jay’s life was completely different. He had a future planned out with you. He had a ring in a drawer, waiting to ask you to marry him. He had the idea of the perfect life with you. He could see your kids running around, a smile on your face as you looked up at him with those eyes. You were his future. One minute ago, he had everything. 

“No,” he whispered, hand dropping and gun clattering to the floor. 

He took a step before falling to his knees next to you, not sure when the tears started. Was it before or after the sting of the hardwood hit his knees? He didn’t hear Kim suck in a breath behind him, too focused on you. Skin pale, unmoving. He knew he shouldn’t touch you, shouldn’t contaminate the crime scene. But this was you. Y/N. His partner. His confidant. His best friend. His future. 

“No!” he said again, louder, more forceful as he pulled you to his chest, not caring that the vest was the only thing that separated the two of you. 

Blood matted your hair, lips parted slightly. The same lips that forty-eight hours ago were kissing his skin. The same lips that he’d kissed a thousand times and was expecting to kiss a thousand more. Ropes were still tied around your wrists. Bruises were evident from where you tried to free yourself, knuckles bloody from the fight you gave. If he didn’t know any better, he could think that maybe you were sleeping. If it hadn’t have been for the gunshot wound to your abdomen, blood soaking the front of your shirt. 

“You’ve got to wake up,” he cried, a shaking hand stroking through your hair. Despite the blood being dry, that didn’t stop it from getting on his hands. “You can’t leave me, Y/N. You’ve got to wake up.” 

A radio keyed up behind him, but he didn’t move. “We found her,” Kim finally said, voice shaking. “He killed her.”

Jay paid no attention, falling back from his knees to his ass hard, bringing you with him as he cradled your body. Sobs coursed through him like the waves of an ocean, wracking his body. You couldn’t be gone. Just forty-eight hours ago, you were with him. Just forty-eight hours ago, you were living and breathing and laughing. Oh, how much could change in forty-eight hours. 

-----

Forty-eight hours ago, Jay was sitting in the bedroom of an abandoned house in Englewood. The hardwood floors stained with your blood, the paint peeling off the walls. He was sitting in the bedroom, cradling your body in his arms as he cried. He cried for the love that he lost, for the future he would never get with you. He cried because of the memories that were always only going to just be that -- memories. 

Forty-six hours ago, Adam drove him home to the apartment you shared. He hesitated with his hand on the doorknob, not knowing what to expect when he walked in. His chest was heavy and tight, trying to will the tears away as he entered the apartment. 

“One of us will be over in the morning to check on you. Will’s on his way right now,” Adam told him before leaving. 

Jay was thankful he didn’t stay, locking the door behind him before pressing his back to the wood. He wasn’t sure he could go any further without you there, knowing you’d never be there again. He was never going to hear your laugh, or see your smile. He was never going to get to hold you, or tell you he loved you. He was never going to get that future he imagined with you. And his heart shattered, sobs coming from him again as he buried his face in his hands. You were never going to be there with him again, and he didn’t know how to handle it.

He’d experienced plenty of loss in his life. His mother dying. His friends. People coming and going. Yet, you were the last person he expected to leave him. You’d promised him at one point. You’d promised you’d never leave, and yet here he was. Crying alone in an empty apartment you’d never get to come back to. 

He cried for the future he’d never get, but yet the same one you’d never get to see. He still got to live his life. You didn’t. And if he could trade you spots, he would do it in a heartbeat. Because you were stronger than he could ever imagine himself to be. You’d get through this gracefully, not like him. 

Forty-three hours ago, Will showed up and held his younger brother as he cried. When he tried to take him to the bedroom to let him sleep, Jay wouldn’t budge. He begged Will to let him sleep on the couch, not able to sleep in the same bed that you’d shared. Will obliged, letting Jay sleep on the couch while he kept watch of his brother from the chair. This was going to set Jay back.

Forty hours ago, Jay woke up screaming. Screaming because he couldn’t save you. Screaming because he couldn’t get your dead body out of his head. Screaming because he blamed himself. 

Thirty-eight. Screaming. 

Thirty-six. Screaming.

Thirty-four. Screaming.

Thirty-two. He finally gave up on sleep. As did Will. He’d gotten up before his younger brother, making breakfast for him, knowing he needed to eat something. For a moment, Jay let his eyes remain closed as he thought that maybe you were home. That maybe it was all a nightmare he would wake up from. Until he saw his brother’s face, pity staring down at him with a plate of eggs. 

Thirty hours ago, he began planning your funeral. It was considered a line-of-duty death. You would be memorialized. He didn’t leave his apartment the rest of the day, Will telling the team it wasn’t the best time for them to come over. Maybe tomorrow. 

Sixteen hours ago, Will sedated his brother. He didn’t want to, but Jay had left him no choice. Jay was inconsolable with grief. He’d never seen his brother like this before, and he’d seen him at his worst. After their mother died, Jay was sad, but not like this. After Erin left, Will was able to glue the pieces back together. He knew he wouldn’t be able to do that again. Pieces were missing, pieces you took with you to the grave. Will had gotten his brother into bed, hoping that the sedative would help with the sleep.

Five hours ago, Jay woke up to Voight shaking his arm. The man stood in his dress-blues, solemn look on his face.

“It’s time, Jay,” he told him, letting Jay get himself ready in peace. 

He wasn’t expecting to wake up in your bedroom, tears coming to his eyes again. He was sick and tired of crying. He just wanted to be okay again, not knowing if that would ever happen. He took a shower, shaving his face. He tried to ignore the stranger that stared back at in him the mirror with red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. He could imagine you behind him, wrapping your arms around him as you pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades. You would laugh and tell him to stop hogging the mirror.

But you weren’t there. You were a ghost in his memories. 

He exited the bathroom, pulling on his uniform, making sure it was straight. No wrinkles. Everything in place. Only the best for you. He pulled the ring box out of the drawer, placing it in his pocket before walking out to the living room. 

The entire unit was there. Each of them looking at him. He could see the sadness in their eyes, on their faces. Yet, he was consumed too much by his own grief that he had no words of comfort for them. 

Now, he stood next to your open casket at the front of the church. He was the last one there, nobody daring to move you until he was ready. They all knew one way or another that the two of you were together. 

He was tired of crying, pulling the box out of his pocket. 

“I was waiting for the right time,” he said softly, voice cracking. “I wanted you to have everything and more. And I couldn’t-” He grasped the side of the coffin, staring down at your face, unmoving still. “I couldn’t save you. And I’m sorry.” 

“You can’t blame yourself.” He chuckled, able to imagine what you’d say to him if you were there. 

“I love you, Y/N,” he told you, squeezing his eyes shut as tears dripped down his cheeks again. “Until I see you again.” He placed the ring box in your hands carefully. A part of him wanted to slide the ring on your finger, but knew he wouldn’t be able to. He never go to ask you to marry him, so why would he get to slide that ring on your finger. It was more fitting that it go with you to the grave. Carefully, he pressed a kiss to your forehead before turning and walking down the aisle of the church to go outside. 

He stood with the rest of Intelligence, waiting for the radio to go off. 

“Final call for 5021 Henry.” There was thirty seconds of complete silence. “5021 Henry is 10-7. End of watch August 8th, 2019. Detective Y/N Y/L/N served this community for the past eight years. A sister to us all. You may rest now, your watch is over.” 

The bagpipes played as the pallbearers carried your casket out to the hearse. Police cars lined the streets, every officer saluting until the hearse drove away to the cemetery. 

Jay was thankful that Voight had requested the burial to be more private. There would be your memorial, your name carved into the monument for those lost in the line of duty. This was for them to say goodbye. You had no family left, so it was just Intelligence standing around the grave-site. The priest said a few more words, everybody else silent as he spoke. The only other sound were the sniffles of the team, trying to keep it together. 

Jay didn’t want to say goodbye, but had no other option as the wooden box was lowered into the earth. How could so much change in forty-eight hours? He tried to imagine your smiling face in front of him, the feel of your fingertips on his skin. He didn’t know if he’d ever be alright, but for now, he could imagine.

[morceid]

Buttery, Tear-stained, and Perfect

SPENCER REID X DEREK MORGAN

Summary: Derek comforts Spencer after the untimely death of his mother

Word count: 1164

Category: whump

Content Warnings: major character death, grief

A/N: thank you @jemilys​ for helping me decide if this should be a moreid fic or dad spencer fic. ily 💋

Spencer Reid loved sending letters to his mother. He bought vintage style stationary just for her. For him it was just some stationary, but to Diana, it was everything. It was like a secret sign of trust that reassured Diana that she was getting letters from her son. From the only person that still truly cared for her through her mental illness.

Spencer much preferred talking through letters than over the phone. There were certain things you could portray through writing that you just couldn’t over the phone. And even though Spencer’s eidetic memory would keep him from forgetting, the sight of the permanent words on paper meant so much to him. It would keep Diana alive not only in his memory, but also through her trembling but flowy handwriting.

Lately, the letters became less and less. It wasn’t unusual for her to do so especially considering her declining condition. Then one day, they were in New Jersey for a case. It was rough for everyone. They had been there for a week trying to search for the unsub. Sometimes if Spencer was on a case for this long he would ask his building manager to send the letter to wherever he was, but the thought hadn’t crossed his mind yet.

Until she was walking into the New Jersey police precinct.

“Mrs. Boswell? What are you doing here?”             

“Spencer. You received some mail recently and they said they were gonna call you but I think it might be better if you heard this from me, I just-”

Almost as if on cue, Spencer’s phone started ringing.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Boswell, I have to take this, it’s the facility my mom is at.”

As Spencer put the phone up to his ear, he heard the beginning of the fateful message. He had thought of it and studied it for years. From the day he admitted her. Sometimes he spent entire nights reading over the message and memorizing it. It was the message the clinic sent to you when your loved one passed away. It had been a frequently asked question as to what the message about the death of a loved one would sound like from the clinic and Spencer dreaded the day he would get it since he was 18.

“Hello, this is an automated voice message for DR SPENCER REID,” the computerized voice spewed. “We regret to inform you that patient number 81256813, DIANA REID has passed. WE send our love to you and your former loved one. Call this number for more info. 1-800…”

The voice became clouded in Spencer’s mind by his own thoughts. It hadn’t even hit him that Derek had walked out of the area they had set up and was now calling his name. His mind swam with thoughts of “Who am I without my mom?” and “how could she be gone?” and finally “So that’s why Mrs. Boswell is here. They sent all of her belongings.” but that was the quietest thought of them all.

Before Spencer could control himself he was stumbling backward and into the arms of his coworker. He felt himself about to drift from consciousness and when he woke up he was still in Derek’s arms. Derek nor his unit chief knew why Spencer had passed out until they talked to Mrs. Boswell. Hotch ordered Derek to take Spencer back to the hotel room and to let him settle, at least until he woke up.

Spencer was curled up into Derek’s side and his tears had been streaming down his face, onto Derek’s black button up. He planned on keeping his eyes closed for a little while longer, just to savor the moment, but there was a knock on the door that penetrated the silence and made Spencer sit up fast.

“The door is unlocked, Hotch.” Derek called, putting his arm onto Spencer’s shoulder and pulling the pale man back to his body.

Hotch opened the door and walked in holding the box of mail Mrs. Boswell had when she had entered the police station. He set it on the edge of bed and pat Spencer’s knee in his odd, dad-like way.

“Sorry to hear about your mother. You don’t have to work the rest of the case if you don’t want to.”

“Thanks, Hotch.”

Hotch left the room as soon as he had entered, leaving Spencer and Derek to talk.

Spencer, still sitting in Derek’s lap, leaned forward and opened the box. Tears spilled from his eyes again and he pulled out her old scrapbook. Derek still had an arm around him and the two flipped through the pages together. There were occasional chuckles from Derek who was laughing at the pictures of Spencer when he was little.

“You know what my favorite thing is in here?” Spencer flipped to a page nearer to the front of the book, around the college age pages. “Her peach cobbler recipe. It was so simple, but she made it every year on my birthday, without fail. It’s just peaches, box cake mix, and butter, but it’s the best thing i’ve ever eaten in my life.”

Spencer turned towards Derek and realized how close they were. He felt Derek’s warm breath ghost over his lips and saw every single fleck of sincerity in his eyes. They glistened despite the dark molasses color they were. He closed the small distance between them with his lips and moved his right hand from the leather bound book to Derek’s chin. He pulled him by the chin just a little bit so Derek’s lips would part much like his mother did when she was making sure he was listening.

As soon as Derek let Spencer’s tongue enter his mouth Spencer pulled away.

“I- I’m sorry I just- ah- let’s just get back to the book. I- uh, I used to beg my mom to laminate the recipe because she would always get it covered in butter. But I guess now it’s covered in tears.” Spencer chuckled through his last words but his tears were coming out faster, harder, and more plentiful than they had before.

“Hey, kid,” Derek took Spencer’s cheek in his hand, forcing Spencer to look at him. “Don’t be sorry. And don’t say anything about me just being empathetic. Because I have wanted to do that for such a long time, and if you noticed I didn’t pull away. You’re sitting in my lap for christs’ sake! Come here.”

Derek closed the distance once again, this time getting a proper feeling of the kiss. Spencer tasted of every single sweet thing in existence, along with a slight saltiness from his tears. His lips were like pillows on a bed he could lie on for hours. Derek felt his own eyes prick with tears of happiness as he pulled away.

“When we get home from this case, I promise you, I will make you that peach cobbler.”

“Really?”

“Of course, Spencer. This recipe is buttery, tear-stained, and perfect.”

[morganaspendragonss]

Please do share your feelings on how the OG fandom interacts with lgbtqa+ relationships. If you do not want to get into it because it might cause drama I completely understand as sometimes people tend to take opinions very personally and make unnecessary attacks.

What exactly about LS do you love? For me, firstly the characters are great. Like someone was like let there be Grace Ryder, Carlos Reyes, Marjan Marwani etc! The power they all hold and I love how they are such complex characters and we still have so much to find out about all of them. Why does Mateo seem to be grounded in religion, how did TK get into substance abuse, how does Paul do his "thing" and how was Chicago for him (thinking back to him talking to Owen about skin care), why does Carlos always take on the world's burdens and sometimes disregard his own feelings so that he always maintains this strong persona, getting to really know Nancy as there seems to be a vulnerability to her etc etc etc. The way these characters all gel together. The found family trope is *chef's kiss*, the portrayal of healthy, loving, intimate relationships is beautiful. And throw in some kick ass rescues. So much potential for the show to be super great. This was longgggg but LS really does have a lot of potential and I hope season 3 brings the goods.

okay before i get into this please know this is coming from an outsider who doesn’t watch the show and i’m not trying to start any drama — this is just my point of view, please don’t come for me

so. god. how do i word this in a way that won’t get me killed.

there are two canon lgbtq+ couple in 911 (that i’m aware of) - both of which are between two characters of colour. one of these couples is comprised of two women who have kids, which, personally, i see as a rarity in tv. i’ve also been lead to believe that one of the men in the other couple is bi which is fantastic if true but i don’t know.

here’s where the issue comes in for me — i didn’t know about hen and karen until just before the crossover ep and i didn’t hear about david and michael (are those the rights names?) until several weeks later. maybe not unusual for somebody who doesn’t watch the show, but at that point i had several mutuals who watch the show and i saw plenty about so i pretty much knew what was going on anyway.

except everything was always about buck and eddie. so much so that i genuinely didn’t realise they weren’t canon for a long time. i get it — a relationship like that, fandom are bound to want it as canon. but being so loud about it in a way that actually hides the real, canonical lgbt+ relationships in the show doesn’t sit right with me, especially not when a) they’re between poc and b) one of said couples is a non-sexualised, happy lesbian couple

that got longer than intended and i’m so sorry — i would put a cut but i am on mobile. this is in no way a call out to any one person and i’m not saying shipping buddie is a bad thing. i am not in the fandom so i don’t really have the authority to speak on them but that is my perception, i’m sorry if i’ve got it wrong, and please tell me if i’ve caused offence.

to answer the second part of your question — the immediate draw for me was the frankly immaculate whump lone star gives us. top tier 10/10 the only thing i would change is the instant recovery thing they’ve got going on because that’s frustrating as fuck.

i also really love the characters! i’d even enjoy owen’s if the writer deigned to actually delve into his trauma as a legitimate thing instead of focusing on his hero complex every single episode. these characters all have the potential to be so deep and i’m hoping, now that the show has firmly established itself, that we’ll start to get some much needed backstory. we got flashes of them all in s2 so here’s hoping this trend continues into s3, especially wrt characters like mateo and carlos and nancy and paul and marjan.

and ugh, god, the found family 💚 perfect wonderful showstopping. i love them all. also, this may not be a popular opinion, but i don’t give a shit about how ‘unrealistic’ the emergencies are. they’re fun to watch and i enjoy it. sure, a filler episode would be nice every now and then, but volcanoes? wildfires? dust storms? kidnappings?? bring it. the angst is glorious and i want more.

[strawberry-skies-xx]

a million reasons to let you go

E P I L O G U E

word count: 3017

tags:  eventual hiccup/astrid, slow burn, fluff, angst, happy ending, feral hiccup, hiccup whump, bamf hiccup, protective astrid, protective hiccup, interrogation, aftermath of torture, implied/referenced torture, hurt/comfort, stoick’s a+ parenting, stoick’s bad parenting, hiccstrid fluff, hiccup and toothless friendship

author’s note: i present to you all one (1) dork.

main masterlist | story on ao3 

Astrid waits in the cove, sharpening her axe. Stormfly is nearby, examining her reflection in the clear water of the lake, grooming herself as she does. The sunlight reflects off of her scales, glints off the edge of the axe Astrid sharpens.

It’s been two months since Hiccup rebuilt his sword and Toothless’s tail and both of them left to be away from Vikings for a while. Astrid doesn’t blame them; she knows that Hiccup is not adjusted to life with humans, and Berk hasn’t given him the best memories. She knows he’ll come back for her, and that’s all she needs.

Hiccup told her that he’d be back in a month or so, and Astrid had waited for a month before starting to visit the cove twice a week for three weeks. The fourth week, she’d started visiting three times a week, and now into the first week of the third month, she’s visiting every day.

No, she doesn’t blame them, but she misses them. She misses Hiccup.

She hears wingbeats above her, a familiar roar, and Astrid breaks into a grin, looking up as Toothless dives down, landing in the cove, giving his dragon-smile at her with a happy rumble. Hiccup, pressed against the saddle and barely noticeable until he straightens, jumps down and smiles at her, starting to walk towards her.

He glances towards Stormfly - Astrid pretends she doesn’t see the glance. Hiccup had barely relented on letting her train Stormfly, let alone Fishlegs, Snotlout, and the twins, not trusting Vikings in the least, and even now he can’t help but make sure that Stormfly is happy. She knows he has a much deeper bond with dragons than she does, having spent eleven years being practically raised by one. She can see it now, as he walks towards her and Toothless follows beside him, both of them swaying with the steps of the other so they don’t bump into each other, and when Hiccup stops Toothless stops, his tail curving in a wide circle around Hiccup almost naturally.

She sets the axe down and stands up, walking forward, Hiccup straightening from his slight crouch. He’d told her he’d try to walk more like a Viking when in Berk, if only because she’d told him it would lessen the stares he got, but with her and every other time the majority of Vikings can’t see him, he’s in that draconic half-crouch. Astrid doesn’t mind; it’s part of who Hiccup is, through no fault of his own, and she finds it kind of adorable. Besides, she’d be a terrible girlfriend if she tried to separate Hiccup from his draconic traits, or from Toothless. She’s pretty sure she’d get incinerated, by Toothless, Hiccup’s sword Inferno, or simply verbally.

Hiccup smiles and pulls her close, kissing her softly until she pulls away, breathless and grinning. She loves meeting him like this - one of his other draconic traits is touch. Dragons communicate love through touch, and so does he; by kissing her, by holding her close, by just brushing his fingers along her arm or her hip or her leg. Considering how he interacts with every other Viking, she doesn’t need the blessings of Odin or Freya if she has this blessing from Hiccup.

“I missed you,” Astrid says, a slight frown to her tone. She loves meeting him, but a full two months is a little far, even for him. Not without talking about it beforehand, and especially when they had just gotten into their relationship - though she feels like she’s known him forever.

His smile fades and he glances down. “I missed you too. I’m sorry, I just-” he runs a hand through his hair anxiously, “-it was all too much, and I needed to leave. I should’ve told you how long beforehand.”

“Yes, you should’ve. Or visited me between,” Astrid says firmly, and then her face softens and she puts a hand under his chin, lifting it so he meets her eyes. She smiles. “But I’m not going to begrudge you your time away. I know you’d go insane if you had to stay in a village of Vikings for months on end, especially after what they did to you. What I did to you.”

He pulls back, but his fingers trail down her arm until they reach her wrist and curl loosely around, as if subconsciously, and she smiles at the lingering touch as he starts pulling her to a nearby rock, sitting down and leaning against her when she sits beside him.

“I don’t blame you for that,” he starts, glancing over at her. “I know how Berk can be, and I’m not exactly the friendliest person they could’ve found. Especially with Toothless,” he says, and they both glance up to see Toothless rolling with Stormfly, batting playfully at her tail until it flicks and the spines stick straight out. Toothless yelps and flinches back, shaking his head and glaring without heat at Stormfly before pouncing on her. Stormfly chirps and slips out from underneath, standing up and giving small, playful jumps, lashing her tail. Toothless bows and lashes his own tail, growling in short, nonthreatening bursts. Stormfly raises her chin and Toothless’s paw flicks out, claw grazing along the underside of her chin. Stormfly drops with a chirp of pleasure and Toothless laughs, looking back at Hiccup for approval of the move he learned from him.

Hiccup smiles at Toothless, who turns back and meets Stormfly’s counter-attack, and then Hiccup’s smile fades. “They would’ve killed him,” he says quietly, and he looks back at Astrid. “You did your best to save both of us.”

Astrid smiles, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders. She’d told him the whole story during the week he’d rebuilt his sword and Toothless’s tail; everything she’d done, said, everything she’d lied about and what she was planning. Hiccup had smiled and said he’d forgiven her, but he hadn’t talked about it much, and she’d lived with the remaining guilt and uncertainty for all the time he’d been gone.

She leans in to give him a short kiss. “You two are plenty friendly. The unholy offspring of lightning and death likes to play with your prosthetic like it’s a stick,” she starts untying the rope and his eyes widen in realization; she smirks, “and you set the forge on fire.”

He tries to stop her, hands moving down to retie the rope, but she bats them away and pulls the prosthetic off with a victorious grin. “Astrid-”

She throws the leg to the two dragons, above Hiccup’s reaching hand, and he groans. “I need that to walk!”

Astrid laughs and slips her arm around his waist, pulling him in for a long kiss. “And now you’re trapped with me. What a tragedy,” she says sarcastically when she pulls away, smiling.

Hiccup grins. “I’m truly suffering,” he replies, deadpan, and she laughs and kisses him again.

Hiccup walks to the forge the next day, sticking in the shadows of the Viking buildings and slipping in unnoticed. He’d agreed to sleep with Astrid in her house at night, with Toothless safe in the cove, but that was as far as he’d go. Astrid was an exception; she’s the only Viking he feels truly comfortable with, and the only reason he’d agreed to stay in Berk at all. Before her, he’d been planning on leaving permanently soon, having stolen from the Berk forge and enhanced his designs enough to be able to survive by himself away from Berk, to get past Berserker and Outcast Island. That was what his plan had been when he left after Astrid had tried to get him to come back to Berk, and, well. That hadn’t exactly turned out well for him.

He slips inside quietly, closing the shutters and the open windows in the forge until he’s left completely alone, lighting the dark forge by a few candles and the machinery as he lights the fires of those and starts pulling out pieces of metal and other tools, lining them up to the sketches in his notebook and starting his new project - a shield that doubles as a crossbow and a bola.

He doesn’t know how long he works there, immersing himself in his invention, improving it as he goes and fixing the measurements when things don’t work. It’s faster now that he has free access to the forge and doesn’t have to steal from it, and though he’s fully against every other part of Berk, the forge is familiar and the one place he was allowed freely. It hasn’t changed much in eleven years, and he knows where everything is, his small area of the forge more organized, but the notes and sketches he’d made as a kid are still preserved. Gobber had taught him here, hidden just like he is now, with every window and door closed and locked, his area scattered with notes and pieces and tools.

Hiccup didn’t lock the doors, though, and he looks quickly up at the main door as the latch clicks, his hands stilling on the shield. A familiar humming comes from beyond the wood as it swings open and sunlight streams through. Gobber steps in, closing the door, and then he frowns, turning around. “Wonder why I’m closing the-”

He stops when he looks up, seeing Hiccup, and his eyes widen. “Oh,” he says eloquently. “That’s why.”

Hiccup’s body is tense, ready to flee, shield be damned. He doesn’t blame Gobber for what Stoick did - he couldn’t exactly protest - and he actually feels closer to him than the rest of Berk, having had him as a surrogate father for the first eight years of his life, and he wasn’t the one who had exiled him.

But he’s not Astrid, and he’s still a Viking of Berk.

It’s a long moment before Gobber starts walking forward, over to his rack of spare hands. “Ye know, ye don’t need to close the doors anymore,” he says, as if Hiccup being in the forge is entirely normal. He supposes it is, but not after eleven years, not after the past year, and yet Gobber isn’t making any kind of big deal about it.

It’s kind of… refreshing.

“Ye’re a Viking, now,” Gobber says, and Hiccup gives a quiet growl involuntarily. Gobber glances back, then back to his work. “Okey, not a Viking,” he amends, casually, and Hiccup’s body relaxes, mind focusing on analyzing this new reaction to him being here. No questions, no curious glances or disdainful looks or even glares, just… acceptance.

“But ye’re not exiled anymore, Hiccup,” Gobber continues, turning around and facing him. “If ye’re anything like the boy I taught eleven years ago, ye’re going to be in this forge a lot. Well, when ye’re not flying off wherever.”

He’s accepting Toothless too, Hiccup thinks, and he starts to think that Gobber is safe. He’s a Viking he can talk to, can trust. Not as much as Astrid, nowhere near as much as Astrid, but more than the rest of Berk gets.

“Mah point is, it’ll be a lot easier to do things with more light than just those few candles. It was hard enough teaching ye that way, no reason for ye to torment yerself further.” Gobber’s turned back to his work again, not looking at him, and Hiccup finds it somehow easier that way.

He frowns. “I don’t want to,” he says quietly.

Gobber nods. “Alrighty then. Mind telling me what ye’re working on? I’m sure it’s something new. Ye always had new inventions back in the day.”

Hiccup pauses, glancing down at the metal under his hands. “A shield.” He hesitates before continuing. “It doubles as a crossbow and a bola.”

“As long as it keeps ye safe out there. I don’t want ye to get hurt.”

That’s new. None of the other Vikings have said they want him to be safe, and Astrid - well, he knows she wants it. She doesn’t have to say it.

Hiccup glances down, feeling a slight warmth spread through him, and he nods. “It will.”

He turns back to his shield, starting work on it again, and he and Gobber work in a strange sort of relaxed peace, quiet as they move around each other and trade machines to use. He notices Gobber glancing at his designs, and oddly, Hiccup doesn’t mind. He just looks back at his work and stays quiet.

Hiccup meets Stoick on the fourth day. He knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid him for the entire week he planned on staying, but… he had hoped.

Stoick’s many attempts at catching him alone were difficult to avoid in a town that he could walk freely in and Hiccup refused to go anywhere but six feet away from any nearby Viking, though, and he sighs when he hears Stoick call his name hopefully from behind him.

Hiccup glances at the forest, calculating if he’ll be able to escape and still have plausible denial that he heard him, but Stoick’s voice is far too loud to say that, and he’s right behind him anyway. He turns around slowly, meeting Stoick’s eyes as he crouches down to Hiccup’s level, body tense and not concealing the wariness in his eyes.

Stoick, on his part, doesn’t try to get closer or touch Hiccup, and he puts that towards his mental tally of trusting him a little more.

“Hiccup,” Stoick says, quieter. Hiccup nods in acknowledgment, and Stoick’s face falls slightly.

He seems to accept it, though, because he continues without pushing for a verbal answer. “I wanted to say…” he trails off, frowning a little as he thinks of what to say. “Sorry,” he adds suddenly. “And… that your room is- is still there, with all your stuff. That you didn’t take, uh, when I- well, you know.”

Stoick is shy, face going slightly red as he glances down at the ground and stumbles slightly over his words, the same way Hiccup does. It takes him off guard, and he tilts his head a little. He nods, seeing Stoick’s face fall a little more.

“I know you probably won’t stay on Berk,” Stoick continues. “I don’t expect you to. I just wanted to tell you about that.”

Hiccup is quiet for a long while, and Stoick nods to himself and turns away, glancing at Hiccup before realizing he isn’t going to say anything.

“Okay,” he says quietly, and Stoick freezes, turning around. He meets Hiccup’s eyes - nonjudgmental, clear, passive.

Stoick smiles and nods again after a long moment, and then he turns and walks away. Hiccup stares after him, then he flees to the forest and to Toothless. Stoick may not be able to regain his relationship with Hiccup as a father, but… he can be an acquaintance. Maybe a friend, in a long while.

Toothless pounces on him as soon as he enters the cove, and Astrid walks over to him, laughing as he fends off a licking attack from Toothless and rolls out from underneath him, indignantly chirping and clicking no-bad-clothes-wet-no-clean.

Toothless laughs, rumbling i-know-don’t-care, and Hiccup flicks the saliva stuck on his hands into Toothless’s eyes. Astrid laughs harder.

“Well, I’m definitely not kissing you this afternoon,” she says as she watches Hiccup wipe Toothless saliva off his face. Hiccup glares at his dragon, who’s gone over to Stormfly, but senses Hiccup’s eyes and turns to look at him.

Astrid-no-touch, he chirps, gesturing to her. Astrid watches the interaction, watches Toothless rumble another laugh before walking over. Hiccup rolls his eyes, and then-

Clean-now, Toothless warbles smugly as he tackles Hiccup into the lake and sits up, watching him stand up and groan at his now-soaked armor and hair.

Astrid grins and walks over, laughing at Hiccup’s long-suffering look at her, and she takes his hand, pulling him out of the lake. “You’ll be fine.” She gives him a quick kiss on the lips. “There.”

Hiccup glances back at Toothless with a victorious grin, and Toothless growls playfully and leaps at him. Hiccup yelps and hides behind Astrid; Toothless hits both of them and Astrid rolls out from underneath, glancing between the two.

She can barely speak through her laughs. “Toothless, quit bullying Hiccup. You already soaked him in saliva and water, I’m not sure how many other bodily fluids you can soak him in.”

Hiccup glances at her, a knowing smirk on his face, and she glares. “Don’t answer that.”

He stands up as Toothless lets him up, walking over to her, still smirking. “I wasn’t going to. But dragons do produce a lot of fluids that humans don’t.”

Astrid grins. “Like the flammable ones?”

Hiccup’s smirk vanishes. “Well… yeah. I’d really rather not get set on fire, though.”

“Don’t try to answer what draconic fluids you can get soaked in, then,” she fires back, and he sighs, but he’s smiling.

She pulls him in for a longer kiss, one that doesn’t taste of dragon saliva, and he wonders what he ever did to deserve her. She pulls back, smirking, then takes him over to the rock they like to sit by. Hiccup attempts to sit down beside her, but she puts her hands on his arm and holds him there. “Nope, you’re sunbathing. I did not come here to get soaked.”

Hiccup sighs, but he’s still smiling as he lays down on his back, staring up at the clouds. “Can’t believe my dragon is cockblocking me,” he says quietly, smirking, and he glances up to see Astrid’s murderous look.

“If you only wanted to sit beside me to fuck me, I’m going to stab you,” she hisses. Hiccup laughs, and she moves to crouch over him, starting to tickle him mercilessly.

“Okay, okay,” Hiccup gasps desperately between pants, squirming, “I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it!”

Astrid grins. “This is your fault, Hiccup!” she says, and then she starts tickling his neck and he yelps, twisting away from her hands - but they only follow him, and his laughs and yelps get more breathless and even louder as she continues relentlessly.

[ariddletobesolved]

Days We Spend Under the Sun (Chapter Seven)

Written for @helsa-summer-event 🥰

Fandom: Frozen

Genre: Romance, Family, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Whump

Rating: Strong T

Summary: Summer is not her favourite season, but a certain Admiral from the neighbouring kingdom is going to change that.

Moral of the story? Drink responsibly! Also, please note that this story is rated T for a reason. Thanks to Artemis and Genta for the suggestions (most of the parts don't make it, since this one is SFW, lol). Enjoy this one, lovelies! 💖

Prompt 5: We're Cool in the Summer

—

Chapter Seven

Elsa adored the feeling of waking up in her lover’s arms, but when the weather was too hot? Eh, not so much.

It was the heat of the afternoon that woke her up from her slumber. She groaned, trying to pry a pair of strong arms, which closely held her from behind, from around her torso. There was plenty of room in her king-sized bed, and she rolled farther from him. Lying on her back, Elsa then removed the blanket, and conjured up a camisole to cover her bare body. She closed her eyes, trying to go back to sleep, despite knowing that it was probably lunch time, but it seemed like the humidity wanted to keep her awake.

“I hate it!” The Snow Queen muttered, before waving her hand to form a flurry cloud above her. The gentle caress from the snowflakes over her skin was wonderful, and she smiled in contentment. “Much better.” And sleep claimed her, once again.

Elsa didn’t know how long she’d fallen back to sleep, but the next thing she knew was a slight pressure on her chest, which made it hard to breathe. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked down to see a mass of auburn head lying on her chest, an arm was draped over her stomach. Scowling, the blonde shook his shoulder.

“Hans,” she called, gently at first. Shoving harder, she repeated, “Hans, wake up!”

She heard him muttering something under his breath, but there was no sign of him waking up. Sighing, Elsa tried to pry his arm away from her. Not that she hated it, but the way their bodies pressed together only produced more heat, and the pressure on her breast was making it worse.

“Hans!” This time she knew not to be gentle. “Hans, please! You’re heavy.”

Any other day, in the right weather, she would gladly cradle him close, but not that day. She knew their long journey on the previous day was to blame, but right at the moment, she couldn’t care less.

“You’re so comfortable.” Came his sleepy murmur.

“I know I am, but I also need to breathe.” Elsa sighed. “Please?”

Reluctantly, the Admiral moved away. He went to lay beside her, with his head on her pillow. Taking a deep breath, Elsa then rolled over. She turned to him only to see him staring at her with a sleepy gaze. A small smile played on his lips. It seemed as if the fallen snowflakes against his bare torso didn’t bother him at all.

“Morning, Kaere.” He greeted huskily, baritone voice thick with sleep. “Did you sleep well?”

Elsa pouted, staring at him with narrow eyes. Finding the gesture adorable, Hans leaned in to peck her pursed lips. It was brief, but it was enough to annoy her. Her brows furrowed in annoyance.

“In case you haven’t noticed, it’s afternoon.” She shortly said. “Also, it’s too hot, and you’re not making it any better.”

“Aww, is the Snow Queen grumpy in this fine morning?” He smirked, still gazing at her. “Sorry, I mean, afternoon. Yes, I haven’t noticed. How could I, when I can’t take my eyes off this beautiful goddess?”

Hans could talk his way out of almost everything, this fact she should remember. With his messy bedhead, sleepy gaze, and silver tongue, Elsa found herself unable to keep her lips pursed. Lying on her back and trying to focus on the small winter cloud under the canopy, she tried to bite back a smile.

“You know resistance would get you nowhere, huh, Kaere?” He was now lying on his side, with his head rested on his propped arm. His words were teasing her to the core.

“I don’t do resistance.” It was a lie, just like the first time she figured out her complicated feelings for him, which now had a name. Turning her head, Elsa raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you cold? It’s snowing.”

“I’m aware.” He replied, without taking his eyes off hers. “But in this kind of weather, you should share your way in keeping cool.”

“You mean this cloud?” The corner of her lips tugged upwards, as she rested one hand on his chest. A thin layer of frost began to spread. “Or this?”

“Both.” 

His sleepy gaze fell on her mauve lips. They looked so inviting, and he found himself gulping. Without hesitation, he captured those lips with his own, as he moved on top of her. The ice dissipated into the thin air, and Hans roamed his hand over her clothed side, feeling the slight bump of her healed scar. Kissing him back, she waved her hand to dismiss the cloud. His kisses trailed down to her jaw, oh so slowly, and she moaned That was when someone decided to barge in without knocking.

“Oh, my God!”

Hans pulled away abruptly, pulling the blanket up to cover himself. Being caught in the queen’s sister’s chamber was the last thing he wanted.

“Hans, I thought you’re in the room next door?” Anna folded her arms across her chest, as she stood by the door with a frown.

But before the flushing Admiral could reply, Elsa quickly got up and strolled towards her sister. “Anna!” She casually greeted her sister, as if nothing happened.

“Don’t Anna me!” Anna retorted. “The door wasn’t locked, what if someone else came in and reported this to one of the councilmen?”

Admitting her carelessness, Elsa’s gaze fell. “Sorry.”

Anna pressed her lips in a straight line, before extending an arm to hold her sister. “It’s okay. Just, be more careful next time.” The queen smiled. “Oh, and since it’s way past the lunch time, you two can go to the kitchen and ask Olina to make something for you. I hope you don’t mind.” She looked back and forth between the couple.

“We don’t!” Hans replied.

“Great! I’ll leave you to it.” Patting her sister’s shoulder for one last time, the queen added, “Oh, and since I’d be busy for the rest of the day, is it okay to reschedule our game night tomorrow?" 

Elsa smiled knowingly. "Of course. You have duties to attend to, I completely understand." Unknown to her, Anna caught the Admiral's gaze and nodded briefly.

"Great, I'll see you at dinner." Anna pecked her sister's cheek, and turned to the redhead sitting on the bed. "Oh, and Admiral, you might want to wear something to hide your neck." She smirked and winked when she noticed his flushing  cheeks.

Once Anna left, Elsa pushed the door closed and leaned against it. Her blue eyes widened, realising what her little sister had just implied, before she burst out laughing.

"Very funny indeed, Kaere."

Hans tried to sound annoyed, but to no avail. He grabbed his shirt from the floor, and put on his breeches. With a pile of clothes in his arms, he made his way towards the former queen.

"So, meet me here in half an hour?" Elsa smiled at him, thumb rubbing circles on his cheek.

"Certainly, Your Highness." He leaned in to kiss her gently.

—

It was almost two hours later when the couple found themselves down at a small dining room that was connected to the kitchen, just finishing lunch. Empty plates were stacked up neatly, waiting to be picked up by any of the kitchen staffs later. Apparently, Queen Anna gave most of the staff and servants a break before it was time for them to prepare for dinner. How kind of her, Elsa thought. Sure she had done a similar thing during her reign, just not as often as her sister.

"So, would you like to go back upstairs?" Elsa suggested, holding his hand on the wooden table. "Maybe we can see Jensen or Olaf? Olaf did say he has a new trivia for us." The corner of her lips curved into a half smile.

On the way to the kitchen, they bumped into the talking snowman, who was so eager to see them. Olaf suggested that they should go on a picnic, but as much as they liked the idea, the cool spare dining room down in the kitchen was a much better option in such weather. So, Elsa politely declined, promising that they could catch up later and would love to hear the new trivia he had discovered.

"I don't know, honestly." Hans sighed, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. He wanted to spend more time with her, besides, there's a chance that his surprise plan would be blown if they decided to explore the upstairs before Anna could finish.

"Then, what do you want to do?" Elsa raised an eyebrow, cerulean eyes were studying him closely, as the Admiral looked around the place. She watched as he smiled.

"I can make us some drinks, you know." He suggested. "If there's a bottle of whiskey somewhere, we can make use of it."

The blonde chuckled. "Whiskey in this kind of weather? How about some ice cream instead?"

"We can always have some ice cream later, Elsa." He spoke softly. "Trust me with this one."

"Fine." Deep down, she was curious  about what he had in mind. Maybe drinking some cocktails wouldn't be a bad idea.

"Great!"

Elsa watched with interest as Hans prepared the ingredients. A big bottle of whiskey was placed beside two double old fashioned glasses. Once everything was settled, he began to crush a sugar cube, some water, and a few mint leaves he stole from the pantry on each glass.

"Can you please conjure some crushed ice?"

With an eyebrow raised, she waved her hand and filled the glasses with ice.

"Thank you, love!" 

Hans poured the booze evenly, before giving each glass a proper stir. Garnishing it with mint sprigs, he then pushed one glass towards her, and served the other glass for himself.

Elsa had her fair share of alcoholic beverages, like champagne and wine, but a whiskey cocktail? Her gaze was focused on the light brown liquor, as she lifted her glass up and gave it a sniff. It did smell like a fine whiskey, but not too strong. She looked up to see him smiled, holding his own glass.

"You may give it a go, Kaere!"

His emerald eyes were enough to encourage her, and she took a sip from her glass. Elsa was stunned, not expecting the cooling sensation to follow. She only drank whiskey on Christmas, and although she knew that the booze can be enjoyed throughout the year, it was her first time drinking whiskey in summer. The drink tasted sweet and minty with a hint of oakyness from the booze, and Elsa found herself taking another sip.

Hans smiled gladly, knowing that she enjoyed the drink. Finally, he could show her one of the things he had learnt from years of travelling before he was summoned back to the Southern Isles. His experience with various drinks from various bars he had been in led him to learning how to make cocktails.

"Do you like it?"

Elsa smiled ear to ear, her glass was almost empty. "Like it?" She raised an eyebrow. "I love it! This is so good!"

It didn't take her long until she downed the entire glass. She was feeling very refreshed with a lingering warmth in her stomach. With the newfound confidence, Elsa grabbed the bottle of whiskey, in which the action caught Hans' attention.

"Elsa, no!" Before he could react, the former queen already poured a generous amount of liquor. That was when he knew it wouldn't end well.

She took another sip and let out a giggle. "What? You think I can't handle it?"

Hans raised his eyebrows, amused by the sudden change of mood. His own drink was barely reaching half of the glass, yet she had poured herself another. Sitting down next to her, he set the glass down with a small thud. He wanted to tell her that pouring herself more whiskey would only make it stronger, but knowing Elsa, she must have known that.

“You know, I have never been day-drinking before. My alcohol intake is limited to the ballroom or dining room.” She rested her chin on her hand that was propped on the table. “Oh wait! I have, actually, once." She grinned at the memory. 

"It was from years ago, before my first audience with the people in the throne room. I had a shot of rum, just a bit," she paused, showing him a narrow gap in between her thumb and index finger, "but," she emphasised, "it was enough. Oh, don't tell Anna! She will disapprove."

The faint tint on her nose was enough to tell Hans that Elsa, perhaps, had too much fun.

"You're tipsy, Elsa." Hans sighed, feeling at fault for not stopping her earlier. He was there to make her some refreshments and not to get her drunk. If Anna knew about it, she would think he was a bad influence for Elsa.

"Pfft, please." She snorted, slapping his arm gently. "I haven't felt this good for months! Okay, probably not, but this thing you make, Hansy, it’s good!” Despite getting even more light headed by the minute, Elsa took another sip from her glass, and down everything in a big gulp.

“Thank you.” He sheepishly smiled. “I got the recipe from when I visited this land in the west...”

Hans began to tell her about one of his adventures, the first time he learned about the drink, but with the good amount of alcohol in her system, it was rather hard for her to focus. Elsa blinked a couple of times, trying to ease the light throbbing in her head. Her gaze landed on his lips, suddenly finding them inviting. The way he spoke as he retold the tale, so animatedly, made his emerald eyes look more mesmerising than usual. Her attention shifted to the small growing facial hair on his cheeks, a proof that he hadn’t shaved for four days now. In her head, Elsa tried to picture how rough he would look had he grown a full beard, and something inside her stirred with excitement.

“Elsa?” He stared at her with a raised eyebrow. “Elsa!”

“Oh.” Realising that she had been caught getting lost in her own thoughts, Elsa giggled. “Sorry. I just, I don’t know, I was imagining how you look with a beard.” Boldly, she reached out to stroke his cheek, feeling the sideburn. “Oh, yes, definitely.” Her blue eyes were big with wonder.

The Admiral, intrigued by her boldness, covered the hand that was cradling his face with his. “What makes you think so?”

“I don’t know, but I like it.” She leaned closer, biting her lower lip. It seemed like the liquid courage had worked. “Can you grow it, please?”

“We will see about that.” He smirked, playing along with her flirtiness. “Do you really think I’d look good with a beard?” Sure, he had thought about growing his facial hair, but he hadn’t really considered it.

“Is that even a question? You always look good, Hansy.” She winked, then looking back and forth between his eyes and his lips. “You know how else you look good?”

“Hmm?”

“When you’re undressed,” she paused, “covered in nothing but skin.”

His eyes widened in surprise at her confession. His breathing got heavier when she rested her other hand on his thigh, drawing even closer. Within the close proximity, her breath smelled like whiskey, and immediately he noted that the woman, who was about to straddle her, was more intoxicated than what meets the eye.

“Your Highness!” 

Footsteps came approaching, followed by a female voice. Hans was alert, trying to put Elsa back to her seat, not wanting any staff to find them in such a position. Deciding that they should leave the place, he helped her back to her feet, silently hoping the cook wouldn’t notice that Her Highness was, in fact, not sober. It was newfound information for him that she might only be tipsy (and not yet drunk) after two glasses of booze she finished in under thirty minutes.

“Come on, Kaere, act normal.” He murmured, holding her stumbling form by the waist.

“Ah, there you are, Your Highness!” It was Miss Olina, the cook. She came approaching with her usual glee. “Queen Anna was wondering if you’d like to have a chocolate cake for dessert tonight.”

With cheeks flushed and head throbbed, Elsa held onto him for support. “Olina, hi!” She greeted rather cheerfully. From behind her, he could see the surprised look on the cook’s face. Elsa then added, “Thanks for the lunch! It was delicious, and the lamb was well seasoned. Well done!”

Olina blushed, before curtseying, “Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Oh, no, no, no! No need to curtsey, it’s just me!” Letting go of his arm, Elsa took a step forward, as if she tried to reach out to her, only to stumble in the process.

Hans, with his quick reflexes, caught her in time and pulled her in his hold.

"Your Highness, are you alright?"

Not trusting Elsa with the answer, the Admiral decided to step in. "She will be fine. She got a little dizzy, I guess?"

Elsa didn't look dizzy. The colour pink tinted her cheeks, and her smile was still there. But she played along, not even wanting Anna to find out about her day-drinking.

"Yes, I am." She replied, a little too cheerful. "As for chocolate cake, yes, yes, I'd love to! Thank you."

"Certainly, Your Highness."

Hans helped her walk to the door that connected the dining room to the kitchen, but not before flashing the older brunette an apologetic smile. He knew that the two empty old fashioned glasses would give a clue that yes, they had been drinking, but he wished the cook wouldn't reported it to the queen.

Once they reached the ground floor, the couple realised that they were the only ones in the deserted corridor. Elsa tried to wiggle free from his hold, and surprisingly, she succeeded. Giggling, she gave him a little shove, before taking off.

"Come and get me!"

Her laughter echoed in the empty halls, and the sound brought a smile on his face. It might be the liquid courage or just her playful personality, but Hans still found it adorable. He didn't immediately go after her, letting her have the fun. It was when he saw where she was heading, did he break into a sprint.

"Elsa, no!"

No, she can't find out about the surprise so soon! It was his thought, as he prevented her from barging into a certain room. So much for trying to keep two eyes on her.

[alias-b]

Eros & Psyche: SOMY drabble

Billy Hargrove x Evie Fenny: Whump with a Happy Ending Drabble

~Evie contemplates her past relationship after getting together with Billy. ((No real fic spoilers, it’s no secret that Billy & Evie are soulmates & Endgame. Just some extra words for them to touch.)) TW: Talk of past grooming/Abusive student& teach relationship.

Whew, I wrote something, guys. Lol named is sorta after an existing chp bc I'm shameless. xoxo askbox open. Goodnight! :)))

He’s perfect.

Heaven carved her a prince from all her favorite fairy tales. Dash of charming. Sprinkle of classical good looks. A darling smile. Enough to melt any girl. Evangeline had no chance.

Fredrick always included Evie in his life. Well, the part of it no one else was involved in. That counted. She told herself it did.

Hawkins couldn’t know how much he loved her. She was sure that truly ached him. 

She was pretty sure.

Fredrick included Evie in what was under his mask. She told herself that was what mattered most of all. His true self and it was bared. All hers and hers alone.

She told herself.

Evie was telling herself lots of things these days. Fredrick called her a classic over-thinker. She didn’t need to think, she had him. He’d guide her along. Being wise and experienced of course. All she needed to do was let go and trust him.

But, he was perfect.

Fredrick took her to parties with other thirty year olds. Always held her hand. Said the right thing. Brought her under one arm. Introduced her as if he was thrilled and proud she was with him. Showed her off like a new designer watch. Fredrick liked to buy Evie designer things too in lace.

Things that made for a better pose in cotton sheets. Pictures she claimed she was too shy to let him take. 

He’d press a tight smile. Telling her it was enough to have her trapped in his thoughts. 

The, he’d unzip his pants. The sound prickled under her skin.

“This is Evangeline,” he boasted at parties, “my girl.”

Men and women extended their hands. Fussed over her. She just looked so youthful. She must have secrets.

“For now,” Fredrick said in the car once, “just tell anyone who asks that you’re nineteen.” He smiled and caressed her cheek. Fredrick always said the right thing. “You’re too beautiful. I love you so much.”

Slowly, he unzipped his pants.

All Evie wanted to do was please him. See that smile. See the lights behind it because he was hers and she was a moth drawn to them. Fredrick liked most that she was his too. He came to her upon a deathly white horse with a silken, red cape upon his back. Bought her lace and flowers.

Fed her only a certain amount and took plates away before she was finished. 

“There’s this silk nightie I want to buy you, but it’s just a smidge too small. Couple pounds should do it. Not that I think you need to lose it.” He cared so much. Evie welled and drank her cool water down. Swallowed the ice cubes when he went to the kitchen. 

They drank quite a bit. He liked her swaying and loose. Not alert. Not overthinking too much. Cause he cared. More than anything.

Evie always said no to coke lines. Yes to shots. Yes to the occasional pill that lit shit up inside her. Let her see the night sky in living color. 

Fredrick kept close. He always did. Especially if other men approached her. His arm pulled her back into his orbit. One sharp snap. Another prickle that made her skin pulse.

Europa trapped circling Jupiter and its great red storms. Clinging desperately maybe cause she’s scared and she doesn’t know it. She doesn’t have anywhere to go and no planet will love her or hold her like her Jupiter.

Fredrick could storm too. Could get snappy. Grip her too hard. Leave marks she had to hide from her mother and classmates. It’s all passion. That’s what he said. He loved fierce and unyielding. Just like a prince would, they’re supposed to love hard. 

Evie’s terrified to disappoint him. Terrified to leave the narrative because who would she be without it? She figured that was normal, growing up with the same dynamic in her household. Children wetting the bed cause their parents build these anxieties into them. Phantoms that never leave.

“Letting everyone down would be my greatest unhappiness.” She often repeated that to the mirror. Repeated it when Fredrick was slamming things around. Pretending he’s fine until she’s crawling to unzip his pants and then all is forgiven.

Evie loved being forgiven. Gentle pats and warm embraces into the night. Fingers to swipe her loose tears. Fredrick gave her everything she needed.

Even if he was the one telling her she needed it.

Prince Charming knew to force his kisses and wake the princess. Now she owed a debt. He knew she needed saving from her tower or dragon. She was too helpless to decide her own path. He knew that she had to love him in return to break the curse. She doesn’t get a choice, it’s destiny.

Evie believed in destiny when she met Fredrick. He certainly murmured it into her ear enough. Hushed tones that made her feel cradled. Made her feel found. Made her float.

But, she can’t tell people, “This is Fredrick, my prince.”

Once he screamed at her for even signing a little heart above the “i” in her name during class. All because he cares. Because he’s the prince who knew better. Because no one would ever understand them.

Maybe that was why she loathed Billy upon meeting him that windy autumn day.

Billy Hargrove was the exact opposite. He never pretended to know better. Not as far as Evie’s soul was concerned. Evie didn’t grovel. Didn’t beg his forgiveness for the slightest misstep or incorrect thought. They nipped at each other, but it was an equal exchange.

Billy’s not a prince. He didn’t try to be either.

He didn’t shake her hand when they met. Not until Neil made him. He doesn’t always hold doors. Doesn’t constantly have to have Evie under his arm. Under his eye.

Especially doesn’t start slamming things when she laughs at Tommy’s stupid jokes or shares her drinks with Steve. He didn’t tell her she couldn’t hang out with Heather or Carol without him. Didn’t steer her from her mother or friends. He also didn’t pry for secrets out of mistrust.

He doesn’t care what she does as long as she isn’t getting herself into deep shit. Without him. His words. He’s not perfect and he doesn’t try to be.

Billy drove like shit. He smoked too much. He got into fights. He could be a total sourpuss grump, but he doesn’t grab Evie to leave bruises over it.

He fucked hard though, he always made sure Evie got off. Never unzips unprompted. Girls hit on him and he says that he’s seeing someone. Easy enough. Sometimes gesturing to Evie if she’s in the room. No need to bother her with pointless shit.

They were always aware of each other even if they didn’t interact. Something magical there neither could place.

Billy knew things Fredrick didn’t care to remember about Evie as well. How she’s a talented roller skater. What she liked on her cheeseburger. Her favorite movie snacks. Her order when they grab Chinese. The articles of clothing that always comforted her on bad days. How to gauge her mood by the song she’d hum or the book in her hand.

How she tapped the rhythm of songs she wrote into flesh and hard surfaces. How she wanted to turn the radio up when her favorite song was on, but politely doesn’t always. Billy does it for her.

He doesn’t comment when she eats and doesn’t care what she wears out or to bed.

He’s often trying to piece together the bits of songs he hears her humming and creating. She’ll share them with him one day, he won’t make her.

Billy’s not a prince. He’s probably beaten up a few in his day. But, he remembers. He pays attention. He lets Evie exist as her own soul and take up her own needed space. 

They’re two equal stars twinkling pleasantly in the same shared constellation.

There’s plenty he didn’t tell her. About himself. About his life. Things he wanted to share, but he couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe one day. She needed to trust him enough in that light. And she did.

Before getting together, Evie thought of Billy too often when she was with Fredrick. Especially when she was under him. Counting the seconds before he finished with her. She hadn’t been warmed up enough and her prince was hurting her with his passion. 

She wondered about asking him to stop. If he would. If he’d ignore her and chase his end. If he’d bruise her wrists again. A lot could be said about Billy, but he’d stop.

He wouldn’t ignore this beautiful star he’s so well attuned to. Billy wouldn’t hurt Evie and call it passion. He’d own his shit.

But, they tell her Billy isn’t the prince and the princess always was supposed to end up with her prince. Billy was a lone, glittering god with his own marble pedestal. Unobtainable. Eyes that watch the mortals below.

Maybe he’ll grace them with his presence and a fresh set of shiny arrows. Messy, little Eros with a laundry list of issues and vices he’ll never outrun. Evie didn’t mind to carry a few vices if he’d watch hers too. She was just a mortal girl with dreams higher than stars could go. Piled with dead weight as Fredrick collapsed into her. Smothering her. 

And Evie’s first thought was always the shine of Billy’s eyes blaring into her after Fredrick dropped her at the end of Cherry Land so she could walk home. Defeated and wanting for more. They broke her heart.

Fredrick pushed down. Crushed her until Evie was gasping herself awake in her own bed. Eons later after she left him. After he shattered her already.

“Squirming more than usual.” A voice in the pillows next to her muttered. Billy groaned, turning over like he was annoyed. 

Evie knew he wasn’t. She didn’t feel her heart give an unpleasant clench like she’d upset him. One arm slung over her stomach as Billy stretched back out on his front, facing her. A barely there glow from the moon trickled between the curtains showing his lashes fluttering.

“Just a dream.” Evie reached out and traced a line into his shoulder. Let her finger trail up to tap his nose. Made him scrunch and look sorta adorable.

“Well, it’s over.” Billy closed his eyes. Nestled into her heat. “Try rolling for another.”

“I like this better.” She caught his lip twitching up. Billy remained silent for a while there. Almost lulling back to sleep. He shifted up. Revived Evie with a simple, cathartic kiss. Mapping more across her cheek as lazy as can be. 

They still felt carefully packaged. Billy had a way with careless affection that was still so striking and beautiful. Flaming arrows through her heart. 

They don’t hurt. So few things hurt with Billy. Evie liked to think she returned that.

His arm tightened.

“I’ll roll this time.”

And Evie could let him without sacrificing her own agency. Her own narrative.

Fingers reached up to draw select gold curls aside. She decided princes were small and overrated. Billy had wings and he had light and he had a swelter of carefully exposed nerves that he trusted Evie to pluck. A heart he let her guard. He wouldn’t ask but she’d give that back.

Love cannot exist without soul. Without trust. 

Evie pushed up to meet his oncoming kiss. Brought him back down to touch the soft earth with her. Where they felt safe together.

She realized it then as Billy shifted up to see her there. Fredrick never made her feel safe, he just used her to save himself. Sunk his teeth in to suck her dry of vitality so he could have it. 

She didn’t ask Billy if he trusted her. Didn’t tell him in this moment that she trusted him. That was destiny. Not the draining of your soul until you’re forced to give it over.

Sometimes it was just knowing the obvious placement of stars. Glittery dust might sprinkle delicately over them.

“Let’s roll later,” Evie nudged her head into his, “always time for dreaming. But, I think I want to be wide awake right now. Hope that’s not too disappointing.” Hands shifted around his shoulders. A fuller smile crossed and Billy matched it. Blue eyes glinting almost iridescent. He hummed in thought. Seemed to agree. 

“Evangeline,” he sounded out with some lazy amusement, “you couldn’t disappoint me if you tried, you know that?” Billy settled himself against her. Continued to map his euphoric paths. Stroking her cheek and hair. Sparking. Hushing. “Hope you know that much, Angel.”

“I know, Billy,” she sighed out to the forgiving cloak of night, “I do.”