#rotg drabble

[phaticserpent]

- Losing Control -

Pitch Black/Reader (nsfw)

The way he would shudder as you twitched under him when he emptied another load into you. Enough for you to lose count, but not for him.

"Just a few more." He would grunt into your ear as his hands gripped onto your hips. His stamina would never waver as he pounded into you over and over again, listening to you babble and cry out. The way he would pull you closer as his release washed over him, not letting you go till every single drop of his seed filled you. Your legs would be shaking and have barely any strength to hold yourself up. But he wasn't done. You would whine out when he began thrusting again, and Pitch would kiss your neck as he continued his assault on your cunt.

"S-so full." You whined.

"N-not full enough." He groaned. He was completely addicted to the feeling of being inside you, the way you would squeeze around him, the sounds you would make as you reached your orgasm, and the way you gasped when he reached his own.

[timeturner-jay]

Jack Frost - “Wolf”

The trail is fresh, clean imprints cut into the flawless blanket of untouched snow. Their stark outlines seem an almost crass disturbance, this far north where life should be sleeping at this time of year. The sun has barely crested the horizon in weeks, and in the omnipresent gloom, the shadows run deep across this landscape of glimmering white, and pool in every crevice and hollow they can find. Like a line of ink, the footsteps of one lone, hungry wolf lead them out across the tundra. Jack doesn’t follow them, not this time. He’s not here for company, and starving hunters don’t make for good playmates; he’s not so cruel that he would tease them through their death throes. The deep sleep will come eventually, as it always does this far north, and anywhere else in the world as well. He ponders the trail though, and traces its route through the frozen trees. His bare feet don’t disturb a single snowflake as he walks, leaving no mark of his passing; winter is here already, the snow and the ice and the long nights the only trail he needs as he loops his way around the globe, year after year after year.

Jack Frost as winter personified is one of my favourite headcanons to play around with, and I'm never going to let it go. <3 Hope you like this, anon!

Drabble Requests are open if anyone else wants to send one in!

[guardian-of-fun-times]

❄️Rise of the Guardians: Closer to You [Jack Frost X Reader]❄️

The evening sun cast long shadows on the ground illuminating the snow below. The slanting rays of the setting sun gave a warm orange tinge to the sky as you gazed out the grand window for a short while.

You heard a slight tapping against the hard wood floor of his bare feet. You found Jack wandering down the hall and met up with him. "I'm starting to feel sleepy." You told the winter spirit. "My schedule has been off since I abruptly stop my medication. My doctor cancelled our phone appointment since he had an emergency leave, so I'm stuck without them for a while." You stifled a yawn, turned to Jack, smiled, and took his hand. "But I could sure use a cuddle buddy tonight."

The pale crescent moon began to shine like a silvery claw in the falling night sky. The occasional clanking of toys being made in the nearby workshop broke the silence.

"I'll be your cuddle buddy. You can even fall asleep while we cuddle. I'll be here with you, don't worry about it." He let go of your hand and put his arms around you. "Do you want me to sing you a lullaby? I can if you'd like?"

"Okay." You smile sheepishly. "We can stay in my room. I have a Borealis light. I hope you don't mind. Oh, I didn't know you can sing. That'd be nice actually."

Oh, of course I wouldn't mind staying in your room! It would be a pleasure. I'll make you feel comfortable as I can. And my singing isn't really good, but I hope you'll like it anyway." He smiles back at you. "And is the Borealis light those kinds of star lights that shine on the ceiling? Because I love those!"

"Yes, it is! You said excitedly. "It glows different colors too. Would you like to crawl into the covers with me? I'm weird about blankets. I need them even when it's hot. It's a comfort thing."

"I don't mind at all. I like to feel comfortable, so I understand. So I'll go with you." He holds you gently and leads you to your room. "What color do you want for the star light tonight, my dear?"

"Ummm." You hesitated. Blue! It's my favorite color. "Oh, I've got to change into my PJs. I don't have any that'll fit you. I'm sorry." You reached your door and opened it for him. "Well, here's my room."

As he follows you to your room and see the room for the first time, I can't help but smile and admire all the beauty and the coziness. "It's a wonderful room. North did an amazing job!" He playfully nips at your nose. "Don't worry about the PJs, I'll be fine."

He moves in closer and corners you. You're now trapped between him and the wall. "I've never had a guy in my room before so this is my first time." You stuttered, your face growing immensely hot.

He laughs. "You're very cute when you blush, you know? It's okay. I don't mind being the first. Actually, it's a huge honor for me." He looks deep into your eyes, a huge grin playing across his face. "You're not going to be needing these." He chuckled, tugging on your shirt.

Jack was drop dead gorgeous and that was the truth. He was a total sweetheart that much you could tell, soft spoken, helpful, smart, handsy, every quality that made his personality attractive. Though, you weren’t sure if that’s what this could turn into.

You escaped his grasp and quickly dive into the blankets, hiding inside. "Come find me!"

"Sounds fun! Wait for me!" He immediately removes his hoodie and belt, leaving his pants unzipped.

He starts trying to search with his hands. When he finds you, he smiles and gives you a small peck on the lips. "Found you!"

You giggled and placed your hands around his neck.

"You're adorable when you hide like this. You look so cute. You make me so happy. Truly and completely. You're just perfect. I love you."

 Before you can say anything, he’s kissing you softly, hoping to convey his feelings more through touch. You hum softly, relaxing against him as he rolls over, resting on top of you. You trail your hands from his hips to his chest, raking your nails gently down his skin. You suck in a sharp breath as he kisses down your neck, his hands sliding up the shirt, sending goosebumps along your skin. As he pushes up the shirt, exposing your skin, wanting to see you with fresh eyes. He pulls the shirt over your head, sitting up and taking the time to really look at you. As he stares at you, you almost feel self-conscious, making you want to cover yourself, but he’s lowering himself back down, placing kisses on your skin. You relax the further he goes, his hands reaching underneath you to unclasp your bra.

He slowly moves it out from underneath you, setting it somewhere to the side, his hands caressing each breast in hand. The sensation of pleasure rolls through you, and your back arches as you close your eyes. You didn’t know what to do with your hands, but the moment his tongue laps at one of your nipples, your fingers are tangling in his hair, a breathy moan escaping your lips. His other hand teases your other nipple gently, rolling it in between his fingers, loving the way you squirmed. His ocean eyes are on your face, taking in your features. Before long, he's switching to the other nipple, palming your other breast. He groans against your skin, trailing kisses down the valley of your breasts. The lower he gets, the faster your heart beats. He nudges your thighs apart, his fingers curling around the waistband of your underwear. His cease in movement causes you to open your eyes. He’s waiting for you to give the okay. With a small nod, he’s swiftly removing your underwear in a matter of seconds.

Nudging your legs further apart, you hold your breath as he kisses your inner thighs, squeezing lightly. His eyes almost roll into the back of his head as he tastes you for the first time. A squeak leaves your mouth as his tongue dips between your folds. Your fingers curl into the sheets, eyes closing as you rock into his face. “Oh…” You moan, sucking in a sharp breath. Jack takes both of your legs, lifting them over his shoulders, angling your lower body upward. His tongue laps against your clit, and he slides a finger into your depths, your answering whimper leading him to continue. He keeps his free hand against your hips, keeping you still as you started to squirm. “Oh fuck…” You rasp, your hands now moving towards his head, either in an effort to keep him there or push him away, you weren’t sure. His humming against your skin makes you shudder, and he slips another finger inside, gently pumping them forward. Your legs are shaking now, toes curling, and your fingers tighten in his hair.

He then starts this sucking motion with his mouth, and you can’t help the quiet wail that leaves your lips. Some part of you prays to God no one could hear you. Your sexual experience wasn’t anything to brag about. With Jack still holding your hip, the friction you wanted so badly was being withheld, and it was frustratingly pleasurable. Your head swims as you lock your legs behind his head. His fingers dig into your flesh in response. “Please…” You breathe out, not sure what you were asking for, but you were asking for something nonetheless. You could feel the pressure building in your body, and your soft moans and curses were uncontainable the closer he brought you to ecstasy. Most men at this point would change the rhythm to a faster pace, but Jack? He continued with this languid motion of flicking his tongue and pumping his fingers like time didn’t exist. Your thighs were practically vibrating over his shoulders, you’re breaths wispy and ragged.

He loved it.

“Jack…” You pant, your eyes screwing shut, white flashes dancing across your dark vision. You were this close. The more he licks and sucks on your flesh, the more of you he tastes, the closer you were to losing your mind. He then replaces his tongue with his thumb, rubbing your clit in small circles, his tongue plundering back into your slick, wet, folds, intent to get all he could. That was your undoing. He finally lets up on your hip, and you rock into his face as your orgasm takes over every part of your body. With your legs clenched around his neck, it kept him there, licking everything you had to offer and more. He didn’t care that you practically soaked his face and the sheets, he was on a high just knowing he got you there. He takes one final lick from the very crevice of your pussy to the top, before easing up, gently unclasping your shaking legs. He kisses each thigh in passing as he lowers your legs down. Your fingers had finally released his hair and if he were human, you’d probably have ripped a few chunks out. You still shudder as he kisses back up your now tired body, before taking your lips, and you moan softly, though you had no energy to do anything more. You can taste yourself, and it was mix between a salty and somewhat of a tart taste if you could describe it. It wasn’t a gross thing you’d think it would be.

He releases your lips to breathe, and your eyes are barely open at this point, but you’re able to see the satisfied look on his face before you close your eyes completely. His frigid body leaves the bed, leaving you even more cold for a moment and you hear water running before he’s back in a minute if not less, wiping between your legs gently. Not wanting to disturb you further, Jack sets the warm towelette on the back of his chair, pulling the covers from under you on top, nestling beside you as you curl into his side once he settles. He kisses your forehead as you drift off into sleep, his arm settling around you.

It was nearly midnight, and the night sky was picturesque. A black to navy gradient was the backdrop for a full moon; the night sky so clear you could almost see every crater. The moon, a glowing yellowy white, loomed large, surrounded by an ethereal glow.

"I'm ready for bed." You snuggled him close.

"Good night, love. Sleep tight. I'll be right here if you need me. I'll be your protector. I'll be your shoulder to cry on. No matter the problem, I'll be right here for you. You're my rock. My world. My everything. I'll always love you. So, sleep tight and dream of me."

"How can I not dream of you? You're already in my every thought." You laughed. "Goodnight Jack."

"Sweet dreams. I'll always dream of you, too. I'll always love you, forever."

[ryan-says-hi]

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three]

Hiccup does not trust Emily.

(With his life? Sure, of course. She was an Overland, after all, and one of the brightest kids he’d ever met. She could guide him in an electrical storm. It doesn’t hurt his conscience that Jack has guided him through an electrical storm before, and Hiccup knows she inherited the same steady hand as her brother.

So, yes. Hiccup would trust her with the membrane of his tailfins.

With his heart? Never. Not in the slightest.)

“I don’t know about this.”

Emily scoffs beside him, tapping her fingers idly against the trunk of the tree they’re somewhat hidden behind. It’s a weirdly loud noise from such a tiny girl, like she can somehow summon the dragon slumbering in her bones. “Relax. He’ll get it this time.”

“No, not—” Hiccup vaguely waves the hand not holding Jack's flowers. Predictably, it clears up nothing, if the deepened deadpan on Emily’s face means anything. It always does. “I mean, are you sure he’s sleeping?” 

A good ten tails away from them, Jack is laid sprawled in the grass under another oak, one knee propped and his ankle swung lazily over it. Maybe Hiccup’s spent too much time around Jack when he’s napping, but he’s not entirely convinced Jack is nearly as deep asleep as Emily says.

. . . which, on rewind, sounds very creepy, Hiccup realizes with no small amount of shame, his tail flicking in irritation against Emily’s legs.

Emily rolls her eyes. It’s alarmingly reminiscent of Astrid. “Would I lie to you?” 

“Probably.”

She kicks at his tail. Hiccup barely avoids the blow, instinct being the only thing that saves her toes from bruising. It wouldn’t have hurt him. “Well, I’m not,” she insists, poking at his side. “Now go give him your stupid flower.”

With that, she tucks her tiny arms behind his back and gives him a shove. Hiccup stumbles, his tail thwacking her in the torso as he fights not to fall over. 

“Ow!”

“Serves you right!”

The glare she gives him should kill him on the spot, but it doesn’t. He must have earned a god’s favor. He’s not sure which one, but he sends a vague prayer to all of them and scurries away from their tree before she can retaliate.

By now, the sheep are fairly used to his presence. They used to scramble anytime he got near, but now they don’t even bother batting a sheeply eye as he makes his way over the pasture to Jack. The sight of it makes his heart constrict—how trusting they are of him now. 

The sight of Jack makes his heart clench worse.

His hair is a shock of white on his forehead, like all his time spent with the sheep made him blend into his flock. His mouth is open, face slack, and staff crooked idly against the base of the oak, as though Jack were completely content when he settled down in the grass to bask under the shade of the tree. It’s a sweet thought, one that Hiccup turns over in his mind like a syrup stick, something chewy and delightful buoyed in his chest at the idea of Jack being so at ease that he could trust Hiccup (and Emily) to keep an eye on the sheep without his staff clenched tightly in his fist.

Wind rustles through the grass, swiping at the hair on Jack’s forehead and sending it tumbling over his eyebrows. Hiccup isn’t thinking when he crouches down, already reaching out to brush the hair away from Jack’s forehead—

—when a pair of hands land on his back and shove.

Now, look.

Hiccup may not be the most physically gifted dragon, but he is a dragon. That fact that Emily managed to sneak up on him at all is astonishing, and makes him second guess just how human she actually is. It’s his complete and utter surprise that Hiccup blames for why his wings snap out, smacking Emily in the face as he topples on top of Jack, all bones and armour and dragon-limbed weight of him.

Jack jolts awake.

“Holy—!” 

“Oh Gods, are you—”

“Hiccup? What are you—?”

Emily’s laughing. Emily is on the ground cackling like a witch, and Jack is staring up at Hiccup with huge eyes, blinking like his vision is still blurred with sleep, and Hiccup wants to set the pasture ablaze. “Are you okay?” he asks Jack.

“Uhhhhh.” Jack’s eyes dart past Hiccup, toward where Emily sounds like she’s rolling in the grass. His face settles into a frown. 

He brings his hands up, setting his palms on Hiccup’s chest plate. All thought in Hiccup’s brain whooshes straight out of his ears, confusion and delight making an emulsion where reason should be, up until Jack opens his mouth and says, “Can you please get off of me? You’re heavy and that hurt, like, a lot.”

The emulsion vanishes mysteriously. It’s replaced by an all-encompassing embarrassment that makes plasma well in Hiccup’s throat. 

He scrambles off of Jack in an instant. Jack sits up, rubbing at his chest. He squints at Hiccup, his focus darting to and fro before settling somewhere behind Hiccup. “Emily,” he says, in that tone of voice he uses when he’s trying to be the stern big brother, but whatever affection he has for his sister is making him miss by a mile.

Behind him, Emily’s cackles have died into giggles. When he turns, he sees she’s sprawled out in the grass, obscured by pampas and greens except where her knees sway side to side, rising and falling as she twists on the ground. Hiccup isn’t sure if he’s irritated by her smug facade, or amused by her childish glee.

He doesn’t get a chance to decide when a cold hand meets his, and pulls the flower from his grasp. 

He whips around, heart in his throat and every excuse in the world on his tongue.

Jack is—

—well.

He’s handsome, first and foremost. So handsome it makes Hiccup want to bang his head against a wall sometimes.

Secondly, and more importantly, is the bewildered look on his face as he twirls the semi-crushed flower between his fingers, the green petals bristling despite his gentle treatment. His eyes are huge, flickering across Hiccup, and if he doesn’t say something in the next several seconds, Hiccup’s fairly certain he’ll cave to the urge to take to the sky and never be seen again.

“Wow. Where, uh,” Hiccup starts. Stops. Swallows around the lump of panic in his throat. “I didn’t hurt you too badly. Did I?”

“Where did you find this?” Jack asks, completely ignoring Hiccup’s question. He lunges into Hiccup’s space, the hand not holding the flower landing on Hiccup’s shoulder and did the temperature rise? Did it just spike, suddenly and rapidly, or has the plasma in his bile sack somehow melted into the rest of his limbs? “Did you see who left it? Where they went?”

“Uhh,” Hiccup says, eloquently, his brain racing to keep up. Jack pulls away abruptly, standing up to pace, and Hiccup can breathe again, thank the Gods. 

“Someone’s been leaving me these—these flowers for me.” Jack waves the flower at him. As if Hiccup hadn’t been the one delivering it in the first place. Hiccup nods numbly. Seemingly satisfied, Jack runs a hand through his hair, something incredulous crossing his face. “I’ve never seen them before, I have no clue what they are, and—!”

“Green Gamblers,” Hiccup says. 

Jack stops in his tracks. “What?”

“They’re Green Gamblers,” Hiccup repeats, resigning himself to his fate as he sinks to sit cross-legged in the grass. He’d known, realistically, that he couldn’t keep delivering Jack flowers forever. He knew he was going to get caught in the act eventually. He just thought he might have a little longer to try and—and—well. His brain supplies him with the word “woo,” but that isn’t right. He just wants to be close to Jack. “They’re a type of flowers that show up on the mountains of Berk in spring.”

He curls his tail over his legs, getting comfortable for the inevitable rejection he’s about to receive. Jack’s bewilderment hasn’t exactly felt positive or negative, so he can’t be sure what to expect, but—

He feels the rush of Jack’s movement moments before Jack appears two inches from his face. 

“So you know these?” He asks, breathless, eyes shining. 

. . . Huh? “What?” Hiccup asks.

“You know these,” Jack repeats, more confident this time. “So the person delivering these is a dragon.” Jack sits back on the balls of his feet, looking beyond pleased with himself, which—huh? “I mean, I didn’t think they were human, but it’s nice having confirmation and all.”

Hiccup blinks at him. Jack . . . can’t be that dense. He can’t. “Jack,” Hiccup tries, a new sort of panic rising in him, but Jack steamrolls ahead. 

“Did you see who left them? Or catch anyone leaving the field? I haven’t been asleep long.”

What does Hiccup say to that?

Behind him, there’s a stirring in the grass, and then Emily appears in his line of sight. Her face is scrunched like she’s in pain. She reaches out a hand to Jack. “Jack, that’s not—”

Something clicks in Hiccup’s head.

“No!” He blurts suddenly. Both Emily and Jack whip their heads to him, but Hiccup hardly takes notice, seized by the gift horse being presented to him. “No! I–I didn’t see who it was. I just saw a silhouette fly off. I thought maybe you had other dragon friends aside from me, but now I know to, uh, stop them. Interrogate ‘em for you.”

Hiccup knows he’s an awful liar. Every word he says stutters drunk off of his tongue to land in a sheepish heap at the Overland sibling's feet.

Jack visibly perks up. 

Emily sends him a deadpan look that would make Astrid cry with pride.

“Well, you don’t have to interrogate them,” Jack drawls, even as a pretty smile lights up on his cheeks. “But, yeah. You think you could get a name for me?”

Hiccup swallows hard, and does his best to smile in return. “Sure thing, Jack.”

__________

@aura2023 Ehehe one more part to go! This was based on the scene Aura wrote of Hiccup being pushed by Emily while trying to deliver flowers. Part Three will be about hugs at night : ) You can read a preview of the plot summary Here!

Also, Green Gamblers, because my partner suggested a green flower as a way for Hiccup to present something rare and cool to Jack:

[blackbeeno3569]

A bit of their daily life outside of crisis, while the new page is in progress...

THE IMPORTANCE OF PRACTICE Hazel walked through the dark corridors of the Lair’s palace, slowly running through a spell book she was reading those days. Her footsteps echoed softly on the stone floor, as she walked down the stairs to the hall, flipping over another page. Then she froze on a spot in an instant. In the hall there was a giant spider, not shy from the size of a bear, its body shimmering with nightmare sand particles and its many eyes watching her without a single motion. Its fangs clapped sharply and Hazel did the only logical thing that there was to be done. She yelled. “Pitch!!!” “Oh, there you are,” the Boogeyman emerged from behind the creature, not paying her much attention though, organising the black sand around the spider’s legs. The shadowy beast leaned closer to her with a curiosity of an extremely ugly dog, that kind that could drool all over your legs and still look like it could bite off your arm, patiently letting its creator to work.

“Why do we have a giant spider in our hall?” Hazel asked slowly, her voice strained. She took a cautious step back. She never liked spiders and this creature made her skin crawl and heart race even though she knew it’s not really real.

“Spiders demand practice,” Pitch explained without looking at her, reaching down on the spider’s stomach to add some other scary detail probably, “if I don’t make some here or there,” his voice a bit muffled from the cloud of the black sand as he was precising its hairy limbs, “they tend to move their legs in a funny way when I need them...”

Only then he realised the true meaning of her question, letting the sand subside. “You are afraid of spiders?” he looked at her with a hint of disbelief. “It’s of the size of a horse!” she snapped back, Pitch’s tone way too light to her liking. He grinned mischievously and snapped his fingers: “Easy to fix, my dear.” “Don’t you dare-!” The giant spider fell into hundreds of smaller ones, filling the whole floor. The myriad of the crawling creatures stopped only in a disciplined circle around her feet. Hazel yelled again, disintegrating the few first rows back into the sand with a swift wave of her hand, just before she shot their author a livid look. He let them disappear all at once with a single elegant move of his wrist, leaning down to her with an academic tone and his grin even wider, amused glint playing in his eyes: “It’s part of the basic set of human natural fears, to be afraid of spiders, you see. Necessary for human survival in the wild outdoors. A heritage of the ancestors we might say. Absolutely needed imagery for my nightmares and fearlings.”

Her glare could curdle milk but it didn’t seem to have much of an effect on Pitch. “Very useful lecture,” she snarled and took a deep breath to calm her pounding heart, “I hope you had fun.” “Oh, it’s always a pleasure to present you with a bit of useful information,” he nodded with a seriousness betrayed only by his eyes and he leaned down to kiss her forehead, “also you should get some benefit of living with the Boogeyman sometimes.” Hazel’s lips twitched in a smile. There was something endearing about both his dedication to his craft and his playfulness. “The almost heart attack waiting for me in the hall is a benefit?” “You could simply just enjoy a nice spider,” he countered, “it was a rather good one I think.”

“I won’t enjoy any spider, thank you very much, not in a hundred years.” “Did you see the way they ran?” “I did, my love. Unfortunately I did. Very convincing.”

“It’s not easy to do, you know.” “I can imagine.”

They walked out of the hall together, the fear slowly being forgotten.

There were indeed certain benefits of living with the Boogeyman. Not exactly in encountering the nightmare creatures in the halls of one’s home necessarily, but there were some. At least Hazel thought so.

[ryan-says-hi]

Laughter bubbles in Jack's mouth, bright and scorching. He almost forgets the sweat trying to puddle on his back. "You what?" He asks.

Hiccup winces, glancing at his rearview mirror at the PetCo front before twisting in his seat. "I might have accidentally stolen a lizard," he says miserably.

The laughter tumbles from Jack. "Accidentally?"

Hiccup glares at Jack, wiping at the sweat on his own brow beneath his fringe. "Yes, accidentally," he hisses. "Toothless here wasn't exactly keen to leave my sweater, and I wasn't about to let Pitch know I was there, watching him roam around the fishtanks at a PetCo like an emo teenager from the early 2000's, so-"

"Wait," Jack interupts, looking at Hiccups sweater intently. Hiccup's jaw snaps shut. He fidgets under Jack's roving eyes, pressing further back into the leather seat. Jack can't see any lumps in the green fabric, but-

"Do you still have the lizard?"

Hiccup blinks. All at once, his fidgeting stops. He reaches under the hem of his sweatshirt, his brows scrunched together like they do when he's actively regreting something. A black tail pokes out from beneath the green. Then a set of backlegs, and then a torso, and then Hiccup is pulling a lizard the size of his forearm out from under his sweater, holding it beneath it's armpits like it'll bite him if he's not careful. It's kind of hilarious, actually. The little guy has enormous green eyes and a gummy smile, no teeth in sight.

Hiccup's face is still screwed with regret, even as he shifts to allow the little guy to rest its backlegs on his thigh. For a fleeting moment, Jack thinks about kissing Hiccup.

Instead, he puts on a shit eating grin and says, "Wasn't Pitch looking for something with teeth?"

Hiccup flashes him a smile. "Put your finger in Toothless' mouth and find out."

The lizard - Toothless - wriggles in Hiccup's grasp, it's lower body enacting freestyle jazz. Jack grins, delighted. He's going to do it, too, raising a finger up to poke at Toothless' flailing belly when the shadows in Hiccup's truck waver.

Toothless' eyes narrow to slits, teeth emerging from it's gums. The next moment, it's vanished, a wisp of smoke as it reappears on Hiccup's shoulder. It ducks into Hiccup's hair at the base of his neck, claws finding purchase in his sweater as it eyes Jack warily.

The sweat on Jack's back crystalizes. Hiccup's breath visibly stammers. "I- I didn't-"

"Hiccup-"

"Oh god. Did I kidnap Pitch's nightmare?"

_________

What if - hear me out - what if Toothless is a baby nightmare who decides it's had enough of Pitches bullshit and resides in a PetCo (a pet store). What if the nightmare takes one look at Hiccup trailing Pitch and takes the form of a lizard to attract his attention. What if Modern Hiccup bonds with said lizard while tracking Pitch, panics when he's nearly caught, and smuggles the lizard out by accident. What if Jack is waiting in Hiccup's truck with the AC cranked to escape the blazing heat when Hiccup returns, having no clue what he's just done, but having a stupid affinity for the little guy all the same.

Also- hear me out- what if none of this has anything to do with the source art, but it inspired me all the same. (Thank you @sboochi for your wonderful art! I can't wait to see what the OG idea was, if that's ever something you want to pursue :D )

I've always liked the idea of a sequel for RotG set during summer. Cold never bothered Jack anyway but scorching sun sure does

[sylphidine]

[ROTG] Creak

Written for Day One of the 2024 Rise of the Guardians Halloween Challenge. Double drabble.

@rotg-halloween

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

Pitch Black heard the sound of feet approaching the bed he was currently lurking under. In another moment, he saw two furry cat faces attached to a pair of corduroy slippers, and he relaxed slightly.

It was little Emily James, not one of her brothers.  The two boys had stopped believing in Pitch at a disappointingly early age. Emily, however, was a believer through and through, although she didn’t frame her belief in him as fear, exactly.

It should have exasperated Pitch, being treated like a trusted friend and having the tasty, tasty fear he craved being denied him.

But instead he’d been charmed by the childish idea that young Emily had about him. Instead of being frightened of him making the old wood in her bedroom window frames give a rasping screech, or making the uneven floorboards groan, or making the joists in her ceiling rub together, she greeted every noise as an excuse to talk to him, carrying on a conversation where she both asked and answered.

She even gave him a name.  Not one that he’d ever use for himself, of course.  But “Creak” was quite adequate. Tolerable, even.

Certainly better than “The Boogeyman”, at any rate.

[sunflower1me]

Title: Not-So-Final Moments

Fandom: Rise Of The Guardians ( ROTG )

Pairing: None / Gen

Rating: (General/Teen/Mature/Explicit): General

Word Count: 100 ( My first drabble! :D )

Includes: Canon character death (Technically?)

Summary: Jack knew the ice was going to break, or at least strongly suspected as much.

Created for @whumperless-whump-event Day 7 "Falling Through a Frozen Lake"

Ao3 Under The Cut!

[phaticserpent]

Could you write about how Pitch Black would react if he found out his s/o is ticklish?

Sure! (I'd kick this man even though I love him)

You were pretty good at hiding things, especially the fact that you were ticklish. Still, nothing evaded The Nightmare King, Pitch Black. Maybe he always knew, or maybe it was that time where he was placing gentle kisses to your neck.

You let out an involuntary giggle as Pitch moved further down your neck. He pulled back, curious and confused.

"Are you okay?"

"Mhm," your face was flushed. "Just....sensitive." Rather than continue, Pitch began to ghost his touch over your skin, sending tingling sensation throughout your body. His finger ghosted over your stomach while he continued to pepper your neck with kisses.

"....Well, you're really sensitive everywhere." He chuckled lowly. "You're rather ticklish."

"N-no, I'm not." You let out a moan.

"You're cute, but you can't hide anything from me." Pitch smiled. "I won't do anything....I know that being tickled is a big fear for you."

".....You know?"

He leaned in. "Love, I'm the Nightmare King, of course I know." Well, at least you didn't have to worry about being tickled, but he would continue using that sensitivity to his advantage.

[ryan-says-hi]

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three]

Pink pampas brush against Jack’s ankles like an old friend, urging him to slow down as he sprints ahead of his sheep. Not that Jack could do anything about his speed now, glee thrumming through him and turning his steps into near missteps as he dances across the plain. His cape flutters wildly, the wind a rough tousle through his hair like it’s trying to remind him that Tuesdays roll around every seven days, and there’s really no reason to be as excited as he is.

What Mother Nature doesn’t quite get is that it’s Tuesday, which means it’s Jack's favorite day of the week, because today is when Hiccup stops by to visit.

That’s what Hiccup had said last week, anyways, when he told Jack he’d be back in from their flight on Monday. Being the chief's son made a consistent schedule impossible (Which is more than Jack can say—the days seem to blend together for him), but hunts were something Jack could count on like clockwork. If it were up to him, he’d invite Hiccup to nap in the field with the sheep, but the last time Hiccup showed up on a Monday, the smell of dead meat smeared across his claws and mouth had sent the sheep scattering. So Tuesdays it was, when the sheep were only mildly apprehensive of Hiccup.

Jack gets their apprehension, sure. They were sheep, after all. But he holds a grudge against his herd regardless for making him wait another day, spinning on his heels to wave at their lumbering bodies left on the other side of the treeline. “He’s nice!” Jack shouts through cupped hands. “You guys are just bigoted.”

Not that sheep are listening, but still. It made Jack feel better to speak up for his friend. 

After a pause, Jack sucks in a breath to yell some more at the sheep, only to stop, cough, and splutter as the air gets caught in his throat when he realizes he doesn’t have his staff. Not that he needs it, per se, but he doesn’t like to go without it. 

With a groan, Jack turns back toward the sheep's tent. Emily and their mother were bound to catch him coming back, but maybe if he was quick just to sneak at the edge of the flap—

A rush of air to his right makes Jack pause, just outside the tent’s flap. Jack goes to turn his head and hardly sees the blur of black before it collides with his torso and sweeps him off his feet. 

“Oomph—Hiccup!” The name wheezes from his chest as Jack grabs blindly at Hiccup’s armour in momentary surprise. Hiccup makes a sharp turn, arms laced tightly under Jack’s ribs as he hoists them into the sky in a twirl. Laughter bubbles out of Jack, dizzy with the movement and the joy that bursts in his throat where the sting of spluttering had been a moment ago. Hiccup spins him sharply, the world an endless expanse of blue that dips abruptly into the orange of the tent’s ceiling, and Jack wishes for the millionth time that he had a pair of wings with which to see the world through Hiccup’s eyes. 

After what could have been an eternity, but probably wasn’t because Jack’s stomach is still intact, Hiccup slows. Vertigo hits Jack hard enough that he barely registers as Hiccup's wings begin to beat in long, drawn flaps as he lowers them toward the ground. Jack can’t fight it as his laughter turns into giggles, something syrup sweet making a home in him as Hiccup tucks his face into his neck, ears shying back atop his head. 

“Hi, Hiccup,” Jack manages through the last of his laughter. He can feel Hiccup's smile pressed firmly into the crook of his shoulder. The familiarity feels like home.

Jack is jostled slightly as Hiccup readjusts his grip, and then Jack feels that smile peel away from his shoulder, which he’d be just a tad bit sad about if it weren’t for the way he’s met with that smile lighting up Hiccup’s face, Hiccup’s pupils wobbling as they dilate in the low light of the tent. “Hi, Jack,” Hiccup says. 

“Hi, Hiccup.”

“Hello, Jack.”

“Why! Salutations, my good dragon! And what brings you here on this most pleasant day?”

Hiccup’s laughter rumbles from his chest, like fiddle chores Emily used to rub together when she was little, just to feel their friction. It rumbles through his amour, too, and Jack's cheeks ache at the sensation. Physical proof he can make Hiccup happy. 

“Just you,” Hiccup says.

They float to the ground, the grass rising to meet them with gentle hello’s against Jack’s feet. Hiccup pulls away, and Jack sees just how wind-tousled he looks. It’s nothing special, but it is. It’s Hiccup. “Just me? Awww, you shouldn’t have.”

“Jack! Stop flirting with your boyfriend!”

Emily, the absolute gremlin that she is, stands with her hands on her hips on the wooden railing with Jack’s staff, her eyebrows hidden somewhere under her bangs as she pointedly looks between Hiccup and Jack.

Jack rolls his eyes good-naturedly and tries very, very hard not to think about being Hiccup’s boyfriend. “We’re not flirting,” he shoots back, pulling out of Hiccup’s embrace. Hiccup hesitates, his hold on Jack tightening for just a moment before he lets go of Jack and pulls out of his space. 

“Oh? So you’re not flirting, but you are boyfriends?” 

“Emily,” Jack drawls, trying to drown out whatever she follows up with. Her name extends as he walks to the tent entrance, but her volume only rises. Soon enough, they’re yelling in unison, with Emily bracing her hands on the railing and lifting off her toes to lean into shouting with all her might. 

Jack probably would have kept yelling—Emily as well, because whatever Jack does, she’s sure to follow—if it hadn’t been for their mother's voice rising over the fray.

“JACK!”

“Ack! Sorry, Mom.”

Emily’s scream breaks with his, her eyes wide with surprise. Her arms loosen, and Jack watches as her belly hits the railing and she tilts forward. 

Jack doesn’t get the chance to lurch for her because Hiccup is there in an instant, the rush of his wings only hitting Jack’s back after the fact. He catches Emily by her shoulders and pushes her gently back over the railing. “Thanks, Hiccup.”

Hiccup smiles at her, tense, before catching Jack’s eye like he could feel Jack staring at the two of them. 

Jack allows himself to think about kissing Hiccup as some sort of ludicrous thank you. He almost voices it, too, but his mother’s voice returns from behind a crate, and he forgets to say it.

“Emily! What did you do?”

“Jack started it!”

“I’m sure he did, Love. Hi, Hiccup.”

Hiccup visibly deflates as he flies back to the ground, landing close enough for his wings to brush Jack as he tucks them into his shoulder blades. “Hi, Mary.”

Jack can’t see it, but he knows his mom must be smiling. It’d taken her forever to convince Hiccup that, yes, really, she was okay with having a dragon around the sheep, especially one from Stoick’s pack. He thanks his lucky stars for how cool his mom is every day, even if she makes him get up before dawn to tend to everything he has to do around the farm.

“Hiccup, Love, could you please take Jack back out into the field so he can watch the sheep like he’s supposed to be doing?” 

Hiccup laughs. “I’ve got him,” he says. He reaches for Jack’s staff, and Jack takes mock offense as Hiccup holds out the staff. Jack tries snatching it from him indignantly (for show, of course), but Hiccup’s hand is firm on the crook of it. He tugs, and Jack stumbles as Hiccup pulls him out of the tent. “C’mon, Jack.”

“As for you, little miss Overland—”

“Ugh, Mom—”

____________________

Hi!! So sorry this took as long as it did! I have a part two planned for this based on the headcanon bit posted after this drawing, but I wanted to publish this before I lost anymore time. I hope you like it :))

Hijack week day 1 fantasy au! Hiccup as a dragon boy who likes to visit his shepherd "friend"

[timeturner-jay]

Drabble Requests: Open

Hey guys! I just wanted to give another head’s up that my drabble requests are still open, for anyone who wants to send in a prompt or two (or five or more, go wild)!

Just send me an ask with the name of a character and a one-word prompt, and I’ll write a short drabble for them. (If you have multiple requests, please send one ask per prompt, for simplicity’s sake!)

Example of a request prompt:

Aigis + "winter"

You can pick any character from the following fandoms:

Persona 3

Persona 5

Journey to the West

Lego Monkie Kid

Sousou no Frieren

Outer Wilds

Kirby

Hollow Knight

Fire Emblem

Legend of Zelda/Linked Universe

Critical Role

DC Comics (but mostly the Batfam, I know them best)

The Moomins

Rise of the Guardians/Guardians of Childhood

Lord of the Rings

[llondonfog]

1, 2, 4 and 10 for the weird questions for writers

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

i actually keep it to the default setting in either google docs or (gulp, confession time)....tumblr..... this is where you learn i write most of my drabbles in one go in the tumblr post editor and then hit post now with reckless abandon,,,,

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

i do still love handwriting things, but i don't think i could do it very long without my hand cramping up lol for the most typical length of my short pieces, probably?? but i will say for the sake of editing as i write, typing is definitely my preference

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

ok i've seen people answer this in both positive/negative connotations so i'll do both lol

feral (positive): i am INSANE for any religious imagery (something something, prior catholic once upon a time—) in the works that i read and write, so when i see things like hallowed, devotional, hymnal, sacrosanct, and i know they're being attributed to obsessive love and dependency???? MMMMMMMMMM

feral (negative): pique. IT'S PIQUE, NOT PEAK, PEEK, OR ANY OTHER BASTARDIZATION. YOU HAVE PIQUED MY INTEREST. YOU DID NOT PEAK IT.

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

oh boy.

in short, yes. i used to be in the rotg fandom and i wrote a piece at 18 during a very unpleasant time in my life, and it wasn't very good, but that isn't the point. it dealt with some heavy, dark themes and a family member found it after i was stupid enough to leave myself logged into ao3. that led to some....conversations that dramatically altered my relationship with that person for a period of time, and i stopped writing fanfic for several years after that. i can't recall if i ever deleted the fic and the account, but the name of the fic was heavily tied to a song that i can no longer listen to either without these awful memories so,,,,, yes, that feels haunting.

[ryan-says-hi]

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three]

Jack is going to catch his secret admirer this time.

He ate dinner long after sunset to keep his energy up. He made a pot of coffee and downed half of it with a grimace, despite his mother's complaints. Hell, he was even out in the field in the dead of night barefoot, his toes turning numb with the cold press of dirt. 

He’s starting to regret that last one. He glances down at his toes, wiggling them to check that they still listen to him. Indeed, they wiggle.

Jack isn’t sure how long he’ll have to wait or if his admirer will come tonight at all. But seeing Hiccup the other day, holding the flower meant for him, had filled him with some feverish desire to finally catch the person in the act. Hiccup was proof that this person did exist. For whatever reason, there’s someone who holds affection for Jack.

The thought warms his face (though, regretfully, it does nothing for his poor feet). Someone holding affection for him. He, Jack, the shepherd boy, who’s made the mistake of biting Hiccup once when they’d gotten too into their wrestling match. 

Someone holds affection for him.

The moon is just a skinny slip of light, itty bitty in the inkblot sky. Jack tilts his chin up to it regardless, leaning a little heavier on his staff as he watches shadows of midnight black cross the sky. Likely clouds, but maybe a flock of birds or a late-night dragon hunt. Jack scans the shadow for any indication it’s a group of dragons, even as his thoughts tumble away from the present.

He’s been thinking about his admirer, sure, but ever since he’d caught Hiccup with the flower, he’s also been struck by the realization that he’ll have a chance to spend more time with Hiccup. A trip to the mountains, or even to the dragon village, would surely be easier if he asked his admirer to take him there. 

Not that he hasn’t asked Hiccup before. He has, on several occasions. But Hiccup tends to get stuttery anytime Jack hints at finally meeting the dragon riders Hiccup talks so fondly of, so Jack doesn’t push.

Well. He pushes a little. But not too much, or too often. Just a bit of pushing here and there, especially when he isn’t being trailed by Emily. 

The thought of Emily makes him frown.

Emily is—well. She’s Emily, which means she’s always saying things, and not all of them are truthful. So when she’d told Jack it was Hiccup leaving him all those gifts, he’d immediately assumed she was messing with him. Hiccup is a friend! A friend who has important things to do for his tribe, important responsibilities. (Besides that, Jack has seen how Hiccup talks about his “friend” Astrid. He’s pretty sure she’s more than a friend, but he doesn’t have any theories as to why Hiccup would be shy on that one.)

The moon whispers out from behind the moving shadow, and Jack’s spirits sink a little at the wispy shapes that pass over its crescent form. Just a cloud. 

Blowing his bangs from his forehead with a huff, Jack leans further against his staff, his spine giving a small pop between his shoulder blades as he adjusts his weight. “You think they’ll come tonight?” He asks the sheep. The sheep don’t respond. Jack is sure one day he’ll get them to crack. Hiccup doesn’t seem to think so, but Jack is on a mission to prove him wrong.

Jack lowers his eyes from the moon, gaze pulled like a leaf on the wind to the crook of his staff. He’d taken the flower Hiccup had half crushed and woven the stem of it around the wooden crook, mostly as a way to preserve the flower since it was too damaged to last more than a day. Staring at the stem, Jack lets his thoughts turn idly.

There’s something weird about the whole thing.

Why would Emily lie to him? She’s never tried messing with his feelings before. Getting out of chores and passing blame is her usual MO. They rib one another, but at the end of the day, they’re siblings; Jack sneaks her extra cookies from the cookie jar after dinner, and Emily double checks his bed decoy is still in place on nights Jack sneaks out to the pasture to lie under the moon. She’d never lie to him about something like this.

And now that Jack is thinking about it, why had Hiccup been holding the flower? Had he seen it next to Jack and picked it up? That had been Jack’s assumption when he’d (been very rudely) woken up, but now . . .

“I’m sure he will,” Jack says to the sheep. He can’t remember what he’d been telling the sheep, but talking out loud always helps, especially when his thoughts are as scrambled as they are now. Groaning in frustration, he straightens up from his lean against his staff—

—only to stiffen at the abrupt shuffling of sheep, somewhere to his left.

Jack snatches his staff from the ground and spins on his heel, eyes straining in the darkness.��

There! A figure, too shrouded in the night for him to make out any details, but most definitely humanoid (and not a wolf, thank the gods). The moon isn’t doing Jack any favors, but it looks like they’re frozen midstep, their head hunched over their shoulders. 

Jack lowers his staff, his heart racing. About time! “Hey!” Jack calls out, putting on his best grin. If they’re a dragon, they can probably see him even in the dark, and he wants to make a decent impression on them. 

(The realization that this stranger probably knows Jack far better than Jack knows them is . . . unsettling, but Jack shoves it down. They’ve been leaving him flowers and bread. How much danger could he be in?)

The figure doesn’t unfold from their hunched position, so Jack steps forward, trying to get a better glimpse of them. What little light the moon has been offering flickers away—probably behind a cloud.

The figure bolts.

“Wha—hey!”

Jack spits a curse and takes off after them. 

Whoever they are, they’re fast. But Jack is fast too, light as the wind even on frozen feet. Jack can barely make out who he’s chasing, trusting the vague silhouette of panicked sheep parting around them to trace his path over the pasture. The moon begins to emerge from behind its cloud, and big, black leathery things snap open from the figure's back. 

For a moment, Jack thinks they’re Hiccup’s wings.

The figure crouches, like they’re about to burst into the air. In a panic, Jack lurches forward with his staff. The crook of it catches the dragon around the waist, just over what looks to be a belt—

—and then Jack is in the air, a mad gust of wind erupting over his face from the figure’s wings. It’d be enough to shock him out of his grip on his staff, had he not been so accustomed to grabbing onto Hiccup for delighted life every time he’d been snatched from the earth. Even so, he yelps in surprise as his body is flung forward. 

Their combined weight is enough to throw the figure off their flight. The two of them jolt in midair, and Jack thuds into the figure's legs as momentum catches him. Something metal hits him in the gut, knocking the wind from him. There’s a tug on his staff, and between the chaotic tumbling of it all, Jack’s white-knuckled grip on the wood slips. 

He falls, eyes screwed shut as thoughts whirl around his skull too quickly for him to grab at anything other than bracing for pain.

A second later, a body thuds into his, and he’s being flipped suddenly, everything spinning for a wild moment as the figure crushes him to their chest. It’s a rough grab, and Jack’s hands make a blind grab on instinct, frozen fingers gripping at armour—armour Jack knows by heart by now.

Jack’s eyes fly open.

Hiccup’s face is screwed together, the worried knit of his eyebrows achingly familiar in the light of the moon. It only takes a moment for Hiccup to right them in the air, his arms firm around Jack’s waist as his wings beat steady, a near-perfect partner to the night sky. 

“Gods, Jack,” Hiccup says. There’s probably irritation in his voice, but Jack’s a bit too busy having his whole world suddenly rearranged to really process the fact that Hiccup���s upset with him. “How did your staff not break? I get you’re not very heavy, but I took off at full speed, and it carried you. What is it made of—Jack? Jack?!”

Jack snaps his eyes away from Hiccup’s mouth. He’s not irritated, Jack realizes abruptly. He’s worried. 

“Are you hurt?” 

The arms around his waist adjust, and then there’s a hand on his face, strikingly warm against his chilled cheeks. Stupid dragons and all their stupidly natural furnace heat, Jack thinks suddenly and viciously as he lets go of Hiccup’s stupid armour to grab his stupid face. The thought of Hiccup dropping him never even crosses his mind. 

“You’re my admirer?” He asks, his voice erupting from him far louder than he’d intended. “You’re the person who’s been leaving me bread and—and flowers and—and—!”

Hiccup’s eyes widen, pupils enormous. His ears flatten against his head, and beneath Jack’s hands, he feels the heat that rises to Hiccup’s cheek. It’s an absurdly nice feeling. 

“Uhm,” Hiccup says, when Jack fails to splutter any further. “Surprise?”

Surprise, he says. Surprise.

Jack can’t help but laugh.

It burbles out of him, gently at first, but then he starts to shake with it, something delightful like sizzling bacon or the crash of a hot spring erupting inside of him. He lets go of Hiccup’s face so he can tuck his own into Hiccup’s neck, utterly consumed by the laughter that’s sending him into shambles.

As he slowly regains control of his laughter, Hiccup lowers them to the ground. By the time his feet touch solid earth, he’s dizzy with how happy he feels, and it’s only Hiccup’s arms around him that keep him upright. 

“Jack?” he asks. He sounds nervous, or—well. Nervous isn’t quite a strong enough word, or maybe it’s an understatement. He sounds like he’s making that face he gets when Mary catches him off guard by offering him food, or the first time one of the sheep randomly appeared at his side, its bored expression insanely comically next to the utter panic that had made Hiccup’s shoulder rigid as rocks.

The memory is enough to finally make Jack’s laughter subside. He pulls his face from Hiccup’s neck, and sure enough, Hiccup looks halfway between miserable and delighted. It’s a look only he could pull off. Not for the first time, Jack wants to kiss him stupid.

‘Oh, I’m stupid,’ Jack thinks.

“Sorry! Sorry,” he says as he catches his breath, his face sore with the grin that’s completely overthrown his face. “I’m not laughing at you, I swear.”

Hiccup nods like he doesn’t believe Jack, which is fair. “Uh-huh,” he says slowly. 

Jack brings his hands back up to Hiccup’s face. Before he can lose his courage, he leans forward, and is greeted by a mouth as warm as the cheeks under his hands as he kisses Hiccup quickly.

When he pulls back, Hiccup looks utterly dazed. And then he grins, pupils enormous and ears straight as sugar cane as he leans forward and thumps his forehead against Jack’s. Jack leans into it, into the soft brush of Hiccup’s fringe and the bump of their noses. “You could have told me,” Jack says, and delights in the feeling of Hiccup’s brow screwing together, even as smile lines appear at his eyes. 

“Yeah, that’s. Well. I tried telling you the other day? With the—”

“—The green gambler! Oh Gods, I’m so dumb.”

Hiccup barks out a laugh. “Maybe a little,” he says. Jack jabs him fruitlessly in the ribs, which hurts his finger way more than it hurts Hiccup. But it makes Hiccup laugh against him, his tail making a swish noise in the grass as it sways behind him, so it’s entirely worth it. 

Hiccup pulls away from him, arms loosening from Jack’s waist. Before Jack can begin to complain, he sees why—his staff, and a handful of green gamblers clenched tightly in Hiccup’s fist, the stalks crushed in Hiccup’s grasp. “I brought you more,” he starts, his ears doing an odd flutter against his head. “I was trying to make up for the last one I crushed. Which went swimmingly, as you can see so clearly by the evidence.”

Jack wonders how he hadn’t pieced it together before, the little fact that he’s so stupidly smitten by Hiccup, when all he wants to do is kiss the downturned corners of Hiccup’s mouth to see them turn back right side up. 

He takes the flowers, and his staff, and then gladly slides back into Hiccup’s personal space like it’s his own. Hiccup’s tail curls around the backs of his heels. “You could always take me to see the village,” he suggests. He’d had a blank image of a figure flying him to dragon village earlier. His mind fills in the shadow with Hiccup’s silhouette, and Jack feels a little breathless. “Show me the mountaintop you’ve been getting them from.”

Hiccup’s smile is achingly sweet, made all the sweeter by the way he hesitates for just a moment before bringing his hand back up to Jack’s face. As if Jack wouldn’t immediately lean into the touch, which he does. “Is that what it takes to make it up to you?” he asks.

“Oh, that’s a hard one. I was pretty bummed about the flower bit. That, and getting rudely woken up, and now that I think about it, you sort of kicked me with your prosthetic, but I guess I did sort of attack you with my staff? Sorry about that, by the way, but you were running and I drank coffee earlier, which is gross, just so I could catch you, so, really, that’s also on you.”

Jack recognizes the look on Hiccup’s face now, the one that’s escaped him forever—its fondness, and it’s almost enough to warm Jack against the cold of night.

“Kiss me?” Jack asks.

Hiccup obliges.

__________

@aura2023 I DID IT. PART THREE, LIKE I PROMISED. Holy shit, I did NOT think this semester was going to be as demanding as it was, so I apologize for the wait! But I loved the ending you'd put in the tags about Jack recognizing Hiccup in the night by his hugs, and I was determined to bring it to life. I really hope you like this!!

(And now to actually look at my thousand other wip's, siiigghh)

[bowser14456]

For the Vulnerability prompts if you're up for it!:

Giving them permission to do something they'd never let anyone else do

Blackice or pompep?

I wrote this while waiting to get my tires changed lol. This was so much harder to write than I want to admit. Why do I struggle with these little character moments so much?!

Anyway, I hope I met the prompt requirement!

---

Jack woke to shaking, bleary eyes blinking open as the fog of heat started to lift from his mind. He hated summer, hated the way it slowed him down, left him lethargic and drained of cold. It was like the sun was purposely out to melt him. 

At first he thought the shaking was him. There was trembling against his back, and it was only as he rubbed at his eyes that he realized it was not him, but Pitch who shook so violently against him he practically shook the bed. Jack jerked fully awake, trying to roll over to meet his Boogieman, but there was an arm thrown around his waist, trapping him. Jack reached down, wrapping his hand around Pitch's clutching fingers, letting a light coating of frost seep into the rigid digits. 

"Pitch?" he called out. The hand under his trembled, and Jack managed to pry the fingers away enough to forcefully roll over. 

To his shock, Pitch was asleep. Pitch never slept! Jack had never seen him sleep before, hadn't even known the man could sleep! Pitch was so violently against sleep that Jack was still surprised he could get the man to even snuggle with him in bed. He always thought the man would look relaxed with sleep, his anger soothing as he dropped off into a world of dreams. This was not what Jack expected at all. Jack reached up, tracing icy fingers over grey cheeks, alarm shooting through him when he saw tear tracks freeze the man's skin. Pitch continued to tremble.

"Pitch, wake up!" he called, hands finding Pitch's shoulders and shaking him roughly. Pitch jerked awake, eyes a startling metallic silver, more tears leaking down his face. He stared at Jack, blank and wide-eyed. 

Ever so gently, Jack wiped the tears away. He managed a small, strained smile. "Hey..." Pitch continued to stare blankly at him. Then he rolled over, away from Jack. Jack snuggled up close to his back, wrapping an arm around his waist. "You were having a bad dream..."

"Comes with the territory..." Pitch muttered. His voice was rough with sleep and emotion, but his shaking had died down. A warm hand found Jack's, lacing their fingers together. 

"Is this why I've never seen you sleep?" Jack asked quietly. He squeezed Pitch's fingers, tightening his arm around the older man. 

"Partly," Pitch admitted. "The truth would be that sleep has never come easy for me since becoming the Nightmare King." He snorted. "The bad dreams are just icing on the nightmarish cake."

"But a few years ago..." Jack continued, Pitch rolling onto his back to look at him properly, "Sandy knocked you out with dreamsand. You dreamt then."

Pitch worked an arm under Jack as Jack cuddled into his chest, hot fingers sneaking up his hoodie to dance over cold skin. Jack traced his nails down Pitch's exposed chest. "The only time I ever have good dreams, I'm afraid," he whispered. 

"Do you..." Jack swallowed thickly, "do you want to talk about it?" 

"Not particularly," Pitch said quietly. His arm tightened on Jack and he buried his nose in Jack's hair. "Just... You being here is enough." 

"Are you sure?" Jack asked, hand fisting over Pitch's heart. "Because if you need anything, to talk or- or if I need to do something I can!" 

Pitch chuckled, the sound low and rumbling under Jack's hand. "I'm fine, Jack. It's not the first time and it certainly won't be the last." 

"But"- 

"Hush, Jack," Pitch said, and Jack could hear the smile in the old spirit's voice. "This is more than enough. Truly."

"Doesn't feel like it..." Jack mumbled through pursed lips. Jack could feel the smile pressed to his hair and he fought his own. 

Silence lapsed between them, Jack's eyes starting to feel heavy again as summer had yet to fade and his body had yet to work through his recent lethargy. He blinked as he felt Pitch shift, adjusting as the man pulled out from under him. He tried not to pout, thinking the man was leaving him to sleep alone, but the Boogieman only rolled to the edge of the bed, leaning over it to grab his discarded robe. Jack propped up on an elbow, watching his lover rifle through the pockets before discarding the robe again, and lying back down. Pitch held out his arm again, and Jack was quick to snuggle back into that broad chest as fingers found their place on his hip. He pressed a kiss to Pitch's shoulder. 

"What was that?" There was no real urgency for an answer in his tone.

Pitch was silent for a moment. His fingers tightened on Jack's hip. Jack felt his heart rate spike under his palm and he looked up at the man. Pitch's brows were drawn. 

"Pitch?" he asked, worried. 

"I..." Pitch started slowly, staring at the ceiling, "I want to... to show you something." 

Jack gave him a reassuring smile even though the man wouldn't look at him. "Okay. What is it?"

"It's..." Pitch's brow furrowed. His lips pressed into a thin line. "Hm."

Jack propped himself up again, placing a cold hand to Pitch's cheeks and forcing the older man to look at him. "You don't have to if it's something painful," he said quietly. "Whatever secrets you have, you don't need to tell me. You never have to tell me if you don't want to or if you're not ready for me to know." He gave a small smile. "Even if I am burning with curiosity to know everything about you."

The silver in Pitch's metallic eyes bled gold and he managed a small smile. "Just being around me can burn you," the man stated with a leer. 

Jack smacked his chest lightly. "Hey! I'm trying to be sincere and understanding right now, don't twist my words!" 

"I would never do such a thing," Pitch lied. The hand on Jack's hip left to bury in white hair, petting it gently. "But I do appreciate the sentiment. Which is why I... It's..." Pitch groaned, scowling at the ceiling. "Why is this hard?" he growled to no one in particular. 

Jack pressed a small kiss to the corner of Pitch's mouth. "Don't force yourself," he said. He laid back down, flicking a nail teasingly over one of Pitch's nipples. Pitch shivered under him. His other hand was suddenly forced in Jack's face, something metallic shining between his fingers. 

"Here," Pitch grumbled. Jack's eyes grew wide, looking up at the Boogieman only to see him glaring up at the frost on the cavern ceiling. "Just... hm."

Jack took the small object, noticing the way Pitch's hand shook almost imperceptibly. It was a locket, smaller than his palm and shiny gold, the design on the edges long faded with time and from fingers running over the casing. Jack looked up again to see Pitch still staring at the ceiling, more resigned now than frustrated. The hand was back on his hip, fingers digging into his skin. Jack found the latch on the side and opened the locket.

Inside was the image a beautiful young girl, her long hair raven black and wild, butterfly clips keeping it out of her face. Her face was chubby with youth, her nose strong, and eyes golden, glowing with mischief and delight. 

She was the spitting image of Pitch Black.

Jack's eyes watered as he stared down at her, at who she must have been, what she must have meant to Pitch. He sniffed quietly, trying to muffle it, to keep the older spirit from hearing it, but Pitch did anyway, rolling over to gather Jack in his arms and bury his face in white hair. They both exhaled shaky breaths, Jack still staring at the image of the girl from where he curled up against Pitch's chest.

"She's beautiful..." he whispered, so quiet he thought his lover might not hear. 

"She was..." Pitch murmured back, and Jack's heart ached as tears froze on his lashes. 

"You're daughter?" Jack asked quietly.

Pitch nodded again. "Did the Guardians tell you?"

Jack shook his head. "She looks so much like you..." He snapped the locket closed. "The Guardians know?"

A shaky exhale ruffled Jack's hair. "I didn't want them to know..." Pitch admitted quietly. "They were never supposed to know about her. I knew if they ever found out they would find a way to use it against me, and lo and behold, they did." He was barely holding back a snarl. 

"Back in the Dark Ages, right?" Jack sighed as Pitch nodded again, arms tightening around him. "Kinda glad I missed all that... Sounds like such a drama fest." He cracked a small smile as Pitch huffed into his hair. "But thank you for telling me. I think I might have been pissed if I found out from the others..." 

"I would have been pissed if they told you before me," Pitch grumbled. "She's not their's to talk about." He pulled away a little, enough to look down at the little gold locket cradled in Jack's hands. "I can't even talk about her..." he whispered brokenly. 

Jack looked down at the locket. He traced the worn design Pitch must have traced a million times before, ran his fingers over the gold chain. He found the clasp, unlocking it. Then he reached up, working one arm under Pitch to hook the two ends back around his neck. The locket dangled awkwardly around Pitch's shoulder from how they lay, but the contrast of gold and ash made Jack smile. He ran his fingers over it, then traced them over Pitch's chest. He looked up. Pitch gazed back at him with wide eyes.

"You don't have to talk about her," Jack stated, "not if you're not ready. But when you are ready, I'll be hear to listen." He tapped the locket with a nail. "But you should be proud to show this off. Don't hide her away from the world."

Jack found himself crushed to Pitch's bare chest, arms tight around him as Pitch buried his face in his hair once more. He's pretty sure he heard the man mutter, "I won't..." and Jack smiled. He placed a gentle kiss to his Boogieman's chest, and held him back just as tight.

[lbigreyhound13]

I'm back with more ROTG art!! This time, it's based on a show Stranger Things. Without going into too much spoiler territory, it's based on this scene in its most recent season. I also wrote a little "drabble" to go along with it. Hope you enjoy!

“Jack!”

“Jack, wake up!”

“Sweet Tooth, please, wake up!”

He heard the voices, and he looked over Vecna’s shoulder…he could see an opening to the real world. He could see his sister’s gravestone…his body was sitting there…not moving, and the Guardians and Jaime were all around him trying to get him to wake up. He wanted to call out to him…to tell them that he was here with Vecna but that he was trapped, but the vines around his neck kept a good grip making it impossible to talk.

Vecna turned and saw what Jack was looking at, and Jack felt his heart drop to his stomach. “They can’t help you, Jack,” he said menacingly as Jack struggled against the vines. “There’s a reason you hide from them. You belong here with me.”

Jack glared at the monster as he struggled against the vines even more. He refused to go out like this. He refused to let this monster get to him. “Y-You’re not really here,” he said.

“Oh, but I am here, Jack,” Vecna retorted as the vines tightened around Jack’s neck. Then…he raised his clawed hand. “I am.” He slowly moved his hand in front of Jack’s face, and his eyes rolled back.

———— Back in the physical world, the original Big Four and Jaime refused to give up in trying to awaken Jack. They had to break Vecna's spell. They just had to. North refused to lose his son like this...to some mysterious sorcerer. He could hear Jack's favorite song blasting through Jaime's headphones. Pippa and Cupcake said that music should work as a way back to reality, so why was nothing happening? Why wasn't Jack waking up?

Then...suddenly, as he and Bunny shook Jack's shoulders...Jack began to move upward...almost as if he was standing up. However, his eyes remained rolled back, and his head moved back...as his body began to...float up into the air...away from his family.

They could only stare at the sight in shock and horror. Bunny was so taken aback that he fell back onto his bottom as they all watched the Guardian of Fun ascend into the air...about to become the next victim. He remained high above them...out of reach, but they refused to give up.

"JACK!" they all shouted in unison trying with all their might to wake Jack up.

---------- "JACK!" he heard them call out to him begging for him to come back.

He could see past Vecna's clawed fingers...over his shoulder. The opening was still there. Only this time, his body was now floating in midair...with North, Bunny, and Jaime all shouting from where they stood on the ground...and Tooth and Sandy trying to pull him back down...begging for him to wake up...to come back to them. He couldn't believe this was happening...He was about to die at the hands of this...monster...He was about to leave his best friends...his family behind...another family behind...just as he left his human family behind.

He closed his eyes listening to the music and to their voices as memories flooded through his mind...memories of his human family...of the day he saved his little sister...the day he officially became a guardian...North and Tooth's hugs...his talks with Jaime and Sandy...Baby Tooth...all the times he and Bunny roughhoused each other...his group hugs with the other Guardians...his family. No...no...he couldn't just leave them...leave all that behind. He refused to. He opened his eyes again and reached out grabbing a vine off Vecna's neck causing him to yell in pain.

The vines released him, and Jack fell to the ground. He looked up seeing that the opening was still there, and he wasted no time and stood up. He ran...ran for his life toward the opening away from Vecna. The Guardian of Fun felt the mud splashing on his legs, but he did not care. All he wanted was to be back in his family's arms...to be with them again. He looked over his shoulder once to see that Vecna wasn't following him, and it made him only run faster when he saw the monster just standing there.

However, he wasn't out of the woods yet. Debris came crashing down around him clearly trying to make him stop, but he refused to stop. He wanted to go back to his family. He needed to go back to them. Nothing was going to get in the way of that. Tears flooded his eyes as he saw how much closer he was getting. He was almost there. He was so close... He let out one gasp of air...and then...

It was black...

Until...

"JACK!"

Jack's eyes shot open, and he barely had time to realize that he was floating in midair. He barely had time to call upon the Wind, Tooth, or Sandy to help as he fell to the ground.

As soon as he landed, the voices returned and were louder than ever...

"Sweet Tooth!" Tooth...

"Frostbite!" Bunny...

"Jack, are you okay?" Jaime...

He screamed as he scrambled about looking around to see if there was any trace of Vecna, but there wasn't. He was back in the physical world. He made it! He barely had time as there was someone else who came up from behind...

"Jack!" North shouted as he wasted no time in gathering the boy into his arms holding him tightly. "My boy! My boy, I'm right here! I'm right here!" He hugged Jack tightly refusing to let go, and Jack gladly leaned into his adoptive father's embrace as North rested his head on his. "I thought we lost you..."

"I'm still here...I'm still here..." Jack said over and over...closing his eyes and taking in the feeling of North's warm embrace...and the other Guardians and Jaime's presence around them... "I'm still here..."

[mushroom-jack]

Writer tag game

I wasn't tagged by anyone I just saw @bisexualnerd doing it and it looked fun + I love to talk about myself

1. how many works do you have on AO3?

77 publicly on my page, 23 posted anonymously, and then 7 orphaned... so 107 total! That's more than I thought tbh.

2. what's your total AO3 word count?

714,735 according to my statistics page

3. what fandoms do you write for?

Currently I'm writing the most for Mother of Learning and A Study of Resonance, but I've historically written a lot for MCYT and various Danny Phantom crossovers. DP x RotG will always hold a special place in my heart.

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

This won't be accurate bc 4/5 my real top 5 fics by kudos were posted anonymously, but skipping over those...

when trouble comes (I'll be by your side)

blood on your hands

See My Crown (I am King)

An Emperor and his Heirs

Ice-fishing

5. do you respond to comments?

From time to time! I usually don't because I don't have the energy, and I feel like I would sound very repetitive just saying thank you, but I will usually reply if I feel like I have something substantial to say/to answer questions that won't be answered by the narrative. I'm also more likely to reply to longer comments or "regulars"/people who's usernames I recognize, lol.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Ooh, with the angstiest ending? Despite my enjoyment of angst I don't really do sad endings; I loved you (and it felt like dying) as well as and im lonely (there, i said it.) are both venty drabbles I wrote a long ass time ago, so that's as close as I've got.

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

when trouble comes (I'll be by your side) has a good happy ending, and of course the whole point of lay all your love on me is that it's a alternate "happy ending" for ASOR. Usually I fuck with a good bittersweet ending though <3

8. do you get hate on fics?

Usually not! I would say I've only ever gotten a real "hate" comment once, and it was some asshole being like "stop asking for nice comments blah blah blah you like getting your dick sucked" as if the whole point of oral sex isn't to enjoy it? that was wild.

9. do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes!!! Though I usually post it on anon. I love writing power exchange and power imbalance and power dynamics as a whole – I've written lots of lovely, consensual scenes with on-screen negotiation... and also several where the thorough-line of the scene is lack of communication to the point of toxicity, LMAO. It's definitely rare for me to write anything that could be reasonably considered "vanilla"

I also enjoy writing some omegaverse from time to time!

10. do you write crossovers?

Lots and lots and lots! the The Coldhands Project is my baby, that's a Danny Phantom x Rise of the Guardians crossover. My current WIP is Zorian Kazinski and the Unfulfilled Prophecy, a MoL x HP crossover. There was a point in my life were I really wanted to write a DSMP x Hermitcraft crossover, though that never ended up coming to fruition... and I've also written some DPxDC, though that's on anon :)

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge, though I suspect someone's been heavily inspired by my work before, to the point of it being noticeable. Not that I can say anything, since that would make me a massive hypocrite lol... I definitely did the same when I was a baby fanfic writer in middle school and didn't understand the consequences of my actions. Hence those orphaned works.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not to my knowledge!

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Nope -w-

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Currently, it's definitely tompercy, and I've written upwards of 80k words about them... lol :3c

Of all time it probably would've been TNTduo if thinking about it these days didn't leave a sour taste in my mouth. I loved that ship for many years.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

I doubt I will ever finish nine years with you... but I love Daine/Numair deeply in my heart. It would just take a lot of effort and research, so I doubt I'll ever come back to it.

It'll be a miracle if I ever finish The Coldhands Project but I'm utterly determined to.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I love to do some heavy description to set the scene and mood, I love to do internal turmoil, and I love to write two characters who are insane about each other. And generally speaking, I'd say I can do a passable job at most scenes :)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Actually so many. I really struggle with action scenes, whether the action be fighting or sex – I physically can't choreograph a sword fight, and how do you make thirty minutes of repetitive movement sound engaging? I really want to learn how to write intertwined plot lines, which I'm actively working on and attempting to write, but I'm forgetful as hell and it's hard for me to keep track of things... also, complex political intrigue isn't easy to come up with!

Finally, literally how do you write characters smarter than you? If they just think through things faster than average that's alright, because I can take as long as I want to think of what they would come up with in thirty seconds... but characters who just outright have more knowledge than you? Characters who are charming and charismatic, or excellent at reading social cues, when I'm incredibly asocial? Characters who are sharp, sarcastic, witty, and mean? I have such a hard time writing characters who know how to do things I'm absolutely clueless at.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I'm actually doing this right now for Zorian Kazinski and the Unfulfilled Prophecy!!! Although, Ikosian is a fictional language so of course, I can just make things up. I get to play around a lot with how linguistics and translations work – for example, Zorian initially translates the Ikosian word for mind magic into the English "mind magic"... because, of course, that's what it's called in the text of MoL. But there might be a scene coming up where he decides a more elegant word for it would be "psychomancy" – [psycho-] translating from the Ikosian "mind", and [-mancy] translating from the Ikosian "magic". Isn't that sick???

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The Avengers/MCU; I wrote parkner as well as irondad & spiderson stuff.

20. Favourite fic you've written?

I have a list of these on my AO3 profile so I'm copy-pasting from there... in no particular order:

Shaky Ground also known as Pit AU, a bedrock bros centric, 2b2t-inspired, character study fic w plot in the background

when trouble comes (I'll be by your side), a deity 3/4 SBI & human!Tommy character study w plot in the background (you're sensing a pattern here)

deal with the devil is a demon!Wilbur x bartender/witch!Quackity tntduo

golden light, and what comes with it, a writing style study that's also a Jamie Bennett character study... lol

all my tompercy/ASOR fics. Having to choose favorites between these would take a whole nother list because I have many, many favorites

Anyways nobody tagged me for this so anyone can do it, do whatever you want forever