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manicpixiefelix · 3 months

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at the other end of the leash

{ One-Shot for head, heart, hand. }

@vannyangelxoxo asked: can you write Felix beating someone’s ass for reader? Summary: You convince Felix to go with you to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in one of the last weeks of Summer before you begin your first year at Oxford University. While out on the town during the Festival, Felix finds himself enchanted with one of the performers, an avant-guarde acrobat named Magnus. The perfect night quickly goes south, however, as Felix discovers someone trying to take advantage of you, and he immediately steps in. Of course.

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons. Set at the end of Summer before Felix and Reader start their first year of university at Oxford. Established Bi Felix.

Warnings: heavy themes; reader is slipped a roofie at a club and a stranger attempts to take them home, and it's heavily implied that he plans to assault them. felix gets there in time, which leads to the second warning of VIOLENCE. felix beats that motherfucker to a bloody mess. it doesn't get super gorey/explicit but there is a lot of blood. also there is discussions of nudity, non explicit sex, and recreational drug use in the club.

A/N: 6053 words. well, would you look at that. another request that got outrageously out of hand. this is also a personal homage to Edinbugh Fringe Festival, my beloved, my home for 6 weeks of the year. id also like to state that it's a wonderful place to be; the roofie plot is 100% fictionalised. the rest of it is a pastiche of real things that i have actually experienced. i cannot stress enough the raw animal attraction of a man named magnus who can and will flirt with anyone and everyone while getting drinks after his shows, who performs several times a week with his dick out, wearing eyeliner, heavily tattooed, who smokes and has pretty eyes. that's all i have to say about that.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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"Come on Fi, it's the last weeks of Summer before we start uni," you'd been rather desperately imploring, as if Felix had ever known how to refuse you when you actually wanted something, "you know Monty Python started there before they were even Monty Python," you told him knowingly, which was certainly interesting, though not particularly relevant. Finally you sighed, splaying yourself out over the sofa you'd been sitting, looking up at him from as he entered the room. Now you were spread out foolishly, childishly, looking up at him with imploring eyes, "Fi we've spent a month lazing around the house and I know your parents have no other events planned before we go back, except for the party on the second last night; we'll be back before then, I promise! I want to spend time watching strange show, meeting people I'd never imagine, and drinking cocktails named after famous poets from rustic bars!"

It had been your suggestion to go to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival for a few days, and despite the exhaustingly long train ride and the hotel prices that would probably cripple anyone less well off than you - Felix had agreed. Of course he'd agreed; you sounded so hopeful.

Which is how you'd found yourself in an underground club on a Friday night, dancefloor packed with more bodies than sense, and a twenty minute line for drinks. Tonight he'd been feeling especially bold, forgoing a jacket altogether, spending time in the mirror with you before heading out to see the show you'd chosen for the evening - a compelling one-man show about being gay in Australia, in a less compelling, cramped venue. So now here he was, in one of his more fetching dark, silk, button-down t-shirts, eyeliner on his waterline, mascara even though he claimed to not need it, a touch of glitter by his temples, and his favourite brown lipstick that he'd agonised over.

Not long after you'd come out, you'd tried wearing eyeliner with the male, private school uniform - I can- I should be allowed to do whatever I want, right? - and the minute after Felix had gotten out of suspension for smacking a kid who called you a slur, he went out and bought his own eyeliner. His collection had only grown from there. It really was a shame that people seemed to think it was reserved for femininity. Well, as it turned out, people who weren't part of things like Fringe Festivals.

Felix fit right in tonight.

It's a little thrilling; these people, in neon underwear and wigs and makeup that would forever outshine his own efforts, they look at him differently. Drugs passed around him - oh darling, would you like some? But once he'd ask what they were and the kind soul goes to check, they're pulled away by some other shiny thing to focus on. Always too close, tits out with nipple pasties being sweated off, he's sure he saw someone's dick out on the dance floor, the most beautiful, feminine, sculpted faces on the hairiest male bodies sporting only a gold speedo. Confusing and foreign and everyone smiling at him.

Felix wasn't quite sure where you'd gotten too, especially not since he'd found himself caught in the blue-eyed gaze of a stocky punk with a face tattoo and carefully loose hair pulled back into a low bun. Nose piercings and ears with stretched holes that Felix could see all the way through, black silicone bordering the void almost like it was intended to match the black makeup around his eyes, though it looks worn, half sweated through. Still, Felix can't help but be enchanted by the way it made his blue eyes peak so brightly through. Felix didn't think he had much of a type when it came to guys, but he'd always found something very charming about dark hair and blue, mischievous eyes.

"Magnus," he'd introduced himself as with much confidence and yelling over the music, and when Felix introduced himself, asked if he was here for the festival, Magnus smiles wider. Felix thinks very distinctly of biting. "Actually here blowing off steam after a show," a performer then, "part of an avant guarde acrobatics troupe," a very flexible performer.

"How... long have you been doing that?"

"About three years now," Magnus squints into the distance as he tried to recall, "since I was nineteen."

"Oh," Felix brightens up, adding without thinking, "I'm nineteen." And immediately hangs his head with embarrassment. Thankfully, instead of calling him a kid - despite only being twenty-two; everyone in their twenties seemed to like calling him a baby, even if they'd turned twenty yesterday - and laughs.

"Oh thank god," he claps Felix on the shoulder, "because I was definitely going to ask."

"It's a pub," Felix points out, as if no-one underage has ever snuck into a pub ever. Magnus gives him a sidelong smile.

"With no security in sight, mate," he snorted. Felix had noticed that drugs were being passed around like candy, but he hadn't really considered it beyond that. Magnus, however, points to a couple that have been grinding on each other on a bar stool several feet away, "he's been fucking her like that for the past fifteen minutes." Felix's brows shot up.

"Really?!" He gasped; Magnus grinned like the Cheshire cat, mentioning in a far too offhand way that they were also friends of his, "should we move?"

"It's the furthest you're going to be from some kind of sex act unless you want to go outside," he gave a loud, pleased sigh at the environment, seeming entirely at home. Felix is struck with the immediate and vivid image of Magnus in his beautiful leather jacket pressing him up against this very wall, hand slipping beneath the waistband of Felix's pants; the freedom of everyone seeing and nobody caring and -

"What's avant guarde about it-" Felix clears his throat awkwardly, "the acrobatics, I mean, if I may ask?" Felix tries to remain polite while he knows he's blushing all over. All he hopes is that this man beside him that he's just met can't tell how loudly he's thinking holy shit have I met someone who could throw me around the room with ease? Is that something I want? He's never really thought about it before -

"You ever seen three people stand on each other's shoulders all at once in the full monty?" As if that's a real question Felix is supposed to have a real answer to, but Magnus stood just a little taller, just a little prouder, "I'm the lad at the bottom, holding us all secure, cock out for the world to see." What a fucking mental image.

Magnus also informs Felix that the tattoo on his face, the delicate dagger, has its match somewhere else on his body. It's with a staggering amount of confidence that immediately flusters Felix that Magnus tells him he can either buy a ticket to the show, or buy him a drink if he'd like to see it. He's pretty sure he's never been so directly and effectively hit on before in his entire life. Yes, counting the trips you, he, Farleigh, and Venetia took to France that Summer in high school.

Standing in line, thinking about beautiful, punk, acrobat Magnus and what Felix can only assume is his tattooed cock, it takes him a long while to realise that he's nearing the bar and has been staring at some guy's drinks for a full minute. Something colourful and fizzing, something with vodka he's pretty sure. It takes another moment to register something falling into one of the drinks from between the man's fingers as he goes to take them away -

"Hey!" It could have been an accident, it could have been nothing, but Felix wouldn't be able to forgive himself if it wasn't, "dude, hey!" He tries to snatch at the guy's denim jacket, but he slips into the crowd. Trying to jam himself up to the bar, despite everyone else's annoyance, he tries to tell the bartender, but the man's already disappeared too far.

Vaguely distressed, but mostly dejected, he steps back to his place, and waiting another few long moments for his turn at the bar. Even as his gaze roams the crowd for the potential bastard, he can't seem to see him. But he looses track of his thoughts on the matter when he gets back to Magnus, leaning against the wall with half a cigarette tucked behind his ear, and those gorgeous blue eyes drinking in Felix as he approaches.

"Was almost worried I'd lost you there," he slings an arm around Felix's waist, drawing him in close, accepting the drink with a grin, and all Felix can think about is how warm he is, how he smells sweet and like rich herbs and smoke. He asks what Felix does, and Felix tries his very best not to sound as young as he suddenly feels -

"Remains to be seen," he leans into speak into Magnus's ear, musting the confidence he knows he usually has in spades, wrapping his own arm around Magnus's shoulders, "about to start at Oxford in a few days -"

"Oxford!" Felix isn't sure if Magnus is teasing him or not. He's also not sure that he minds, he kind of wants the man to keep looking at him- keep smiling at him like that.

He's so enraptured by the company he's found for himself that it almost startles him when you come stumbling out of the crowd, off of the dance floor, beaming and sweating, holding a half-finished drink.

"Fi, there you are- oh my, hi, hello!" You're already giving Magnus a million watt smile, clearly quite drunk. Felix catches you with his free hand, having finished his own drink not too long ago.

"Hello, sweetheart," Magnus greets you warmly, but with an unmistakable hint of reservation, gaze momentarily flicking between yourself and Felix, trying to reassess the situation in the blink of an eye. You don't seem to notice that, however, simply standing a little taller, subtly preening at the pet name.

"Y/N is my best mate," Felix leans in close to Magnus to explain, voice fond in his ear, "the reason I'm here at all." And there's that smile again, all warm and amused and Magnus' eyes shining in a way that makes Felix want to let him do terrible, unspeakable things to him.

"Lucky for us both then, that you have such a darling friend."

Performers are a different fucking breed of people, Felix can't help but think to himself, even as Magnus turns - arm never leaving it's place around Felix - to properly introduce himself to you. He thinks it again watching Magnus charm you just as easily, even if he wasn't trying to outright hit on you the way he had been with Felix.

"I was just- I was just-" you stumble over your words, taking another sip of your drink - something colourful and fizzing, vodka something, you'd said with an offhand frown, a lovely guy I've been dancing with bought it for me - while you take Magnus' offered free hand to steady yourself, "I was thinking of heading back to the hotel pretty shortly, I'm a bit -" you make a vague hand gesture. Before you can even finish the sentiment, however, the next song begins and you light up. Finishing your drink, you grab Felix's free hand with your own, tugging them both towards the dance floor, begging them for one dance.

"How could I say no to a face like that?" Magnus teases, letting himself be dragged onto the dancefloor, Felix adding with a fond smile.

"Trust me, I wouldn't know."

Glad for the company, you gleefully let loose amongst the crush of bodies, and there's something both endearing, and endlessly attractive, about how happy Magnus seems to match your energy. The three of you jumping around to The Sex Pistols, Magnus shouting along with all of the lyrics and seemingly impressed that you and Felix at the very least seem to know some of them.

After the song, however, you seem to slip back into the crowd on the dancefloor, as if once more transfixed by the lights and movement and heat of the night. Magnus, however, leans in and asks if Felix smokes.

Outside it's far easier to breathe. It's cooler too. Still, Magnus pulls off his leather jacket, ties it around his hips, leaving him in a tight, white t-shirt. Felix has known in a roundabout way that he wasn't straight for quite some time, but damn did reminders like this not feel like being hit by a truck. Covered in tattoos and with the kind of arms and shoulders the Greeks could model statues of gods from, Felix knows he's staring but quite literally does not know how to stop.

Except then Magnus is pulling out an actual, metal cigarette deck, offering it to Felix for him to take one, and Felix is pretty sure this is the coolest person he's ever met in his life.

"I love these," Magnus takes Felix's hand in his free one, clicking the cigarette deck closed and sliding it smoothly back into his pocket, "these are cute," he's looking at the silly, little collection of stars tattooed on his hand. They look like nothing compared to the ink all over Magnus, but he seems genuine in his interest.

"Surprise gift for my sister," Felix hears himself say, cigarette between his lips as he fumbles in his pockets for a lighter.

"For your sister?"

"Well it was a surprise to me too," Felix chuckles at the memory, "Y/N and I organised for me and Venetia to get matching tattoos of her choice for her birthday."

"You... didn't know?" Magnus snorts, dropping Felix's hand to take the half-cigarette out from behind his ear, holding it out for Felix to light.

"Well I'm not opposed, I've got a couple of tattoos - nothing like yours," he grins, and Magnus's gaze meets his, flashing with that same amusement and attraction as in the club that had so captivated Felix in the first place, "but I'm kind of surprised that that's what Y/N gifted her?"

"Did your sister not like it?"

"No, that's the thing, I've actually never seen Ven react like that to a gift before," Felix muses; smiling at the memory, "of course she was a menace about it at first; I was worried she'd been given too much power," he snorted, tipping his head to look at Magnus, only to see those blue eyes gazing back, as if hanging on Felix's every word, "do you know how close I came to having a tramp stamp?"

"As if you wouldn't look fantastic with a tramp stamp," Magnus snorted.

However before the story can even be finished, the door to the club opens and both turn at the sound of your voice.

"No, I need some water first -" you sound very wrong. The person beside you, a man who looks vaguely familiar, though Felix is sure it's not his face, is setting almost too brisk of a pace.

"Come on, there's water back at my place, remember?"

"I need to go back to the hotel," you tried to insist, "and water- 'm gonna throw up in the taxi."

"You'll be fine, I promise, I've got you." The man's hailing at taxi, while you're swaying on your feet, looking even more out of it than you had when they'd last seen you.

Felix is moving on instinct, without hesitation, without even thinking.

"The fuck are you doing?" His voice raises, and the man turns right as a taxi is pulling up, looking at Felix with blatant irritation, not appearing to be intimidated in the slightest.

"Back off man, my friend isn't feeling well-" the bastard lies through his teeth, even as you of course recognise Felix, and take his arm, mumbling that you felt sick, "see?" He actually tries to pry you away from Felix, "I'm taking care of them, no need to worry -" but Felix puts his hand on yours, secure. Just as well, since you start to list and lean and lose your balance.

"Fi," you mutter weakly, pitifully, "help."

And that's when Felix realises what he recognises about the man; the jacket that slipped through his fingers at the bar. The man he'd seen dose your drink, as it turned out.

Felix has never seen red in his life the way he has in this moment.

Fury simmers white-hot just beneath his skin, though he keeps himself calm and collected as he gently walks you over to the wall of the club, easing you into a sitting position. All the while the bastard that was with you is berating him, saying you just needed to get somewhere to lie down. Magnus, however, seems to understand what's happening, and sits himself down beside you at the wall, quietly asking one of the many onlooker to go inside and grab some water for you.

"Fine, sit 'em on the filthy fucking pavement in the middle of the city instead of letting them lie down in a bed to sleep it off; you feel good? You feel like a hero for not letting me take my friend home -?"

There is an audible crack when Felix's fist makes impact with the bastard's nose. He knows once his adrenaline wears off it's going to hurt like a motherfucker, but it's worth it. More blood splatters across them both than Felix was anticipating from his wonky uppercut, but he doesn't care. The man half recovers, unsteady, but he gets a hit on Felix's cheeks with a fist full of rings, but he seems almost disorientated. Felix goes for the throat this time, satisfaction being the sound of the man choking on his gurgle of pain.

Felix isn't quite sure what it was that sent the bastard crashing to the ground, but he does know that he's tearing through that man's coat pockets like a feral beast before he finds the bottle of pills like the one he saw fall into your drink.

It's like the entire world stops for this one second.

His knuckles ache, covered in blood that isn't his own, clutching the same roofies that were now coursing through your blood, making you weak and vulnerable and prey to bastards like this. His head spins, fury spitting in his veins, blood singing to tear this man apart. There were on lookers, a gasping crowd, but for some reason no bouncer in sight, no-one stopping this.

And you, sitting against the wall of the pub, tucked up against Magnus who had a protective arm around you and was looking at the man beneath you with something cold in his eyes. His other hand was balancing a glass of water on his leg next to you, for you, but you didn't move, just looked at your hands, helpless. Magnus's cold gaze slides to meet Felix's, and there's something approving in his eyes. He gives the faintest nod.

Felix kind of blacks out after that.

The next thing he remembers is being shoved into a taxi rather frantically, hearing Magnus shout - well get him on his side so he doesn't choke on his blood before the ambulance arrives. You're already in, leaning against the window seat, gazing vacantly out of it. Felix gently touches your shoulder once the door shuts behind him- fuck that seems like a lot of blood? When did that happen? You make a vague hum of acknowledgement, so Felix shuffles over to the middle seat and coaxes you to rest against him.

"Fi?"

"Of course," he cradles you against him.

"Fi," your voice is weak, he can hear you beginning to sniffle. Your words come out awkwardly, slurred terribly, "feels wrong, c'nt.. m've."

"I know, I'm sorry," Felix feels the tears in his own eyes, "you'll be okay, I'm here, you'll be okay." He can't believe he let this happen. The front door opens, and Magnus's voice greets the driver.

"Sorry about the state of them in the back -"

"'s Friday, laddie," the terribly aged, terribly Scottish taxi driver says blithely, "where shall I be takin' yas?"

Magnus looks over the back to you both, expression concerned, but genuine, and asks for the address of your hotel. Felix takes a moment to compose himself, but finally gives it, and the drive commences in silence.

It seems only natural for Magnus to also get out once you've all arrived, easily sliding into step with Felix as they both wrapped one of your arms around their shoulders and helped get you back through the hotel and up to your room.

"Thank you, Magnus," Felix says softly as he fishes the key from his pocket, "I'm so sorry about how the night turned out." Magnus actually laughed at that, and Felix opened the door.

"Felix, if the context weren't so dramatically, disgustingly awful, this would be the most fun night I've had all Fringe." And you all shuffle inside, Felix guiding you all towards the bedroom to lay you down, "nice room by the way," Magnus looks around as he passes through, "who's cock did you have to suck to afford it in the middle of the Fringe?"

"I..." Felix hesitates, "don't know if that's a first meeting kind of question."

"Well played, Oxford boy," Magnus says, but there's no malice behind the nickname, "I have my theories, though." Part of Felix is glad Magnus is there, to help lighten the load, lighten the mood, even a little.

They lay you gently on the bed, and Felix is just glad that you seemed to finally have fully passed out. He can't begin to imagine the horrors that were going on inside your head. Then it's just the two of them. And the built in wardrobe across the room with it's floor to ceiling mirror.

And all that blood on Felix.

"I look the fucking American Psycho," it's fucking horrific! What did he do? Magnus, sitting on the end of the bed with one knee crossed over the other gives an amused smile.

"You actually kind of do."

"It's not good!" Felix approaches the mirror like he's in a damn horror movie, scrubbing at his cheeks with little success, but with a surprising amount of sharp pain, "the fuck did I do? Is this all his?" Magnus, in the mirror, is looking at him curiously, "Magnus, seriously, the fuck did I do?"

"You were fucking beautiful, Felix," Magnus says, sounding almost awed. Felix stopped; there was nothing flirty, nothing about it that wasn't genuine. Wait holy shit, Felix realises, are these fucking butterflies in his chest? Now of all times?

Then, in the next moment, Magnus blinks, clearing his throat loudly, like he hadn't meant to say that. For the first time all night he looks genuinely flustered, dropping his gaze.

"You hospitalised a fucking rapist, is what you did," he said matter-of-factly with a nod - he'd nodded before, it's the last thing Felix really remembers - "proved your point to everyone there finding those fucking pills; that was a good move. I mean, I had to explain what the fuck was happening to our little audience while I was dragging you off him - didn't think you wanted to kill him."

"Thanks," Felix says weakly. Then, softly, looking down at his shaking hands, "should I go to the police?"

"For doing a public service?" Magnus snorts, shaking his head, "no, there's at least a dozen girls who will attest to him acting threatening, and to Y/N's behaviour - who was thankfully taken away by an actual kind friend - and that he admitted in a fit of rage to spiking the drinks. He'll be the one in jail if anything." It's so... easy. So nonchalant.

When Felix asks, confusion, disbelief, innocence in his voice, Magnus just smiles like the easiest thing in the world, and says he's an actor, it's his job.

"You don't have to be doing all of this," Felix covers the room in a few short steps, knowing he'll never have the words to thank this stranger for all he's done tonight.

"Are you kidding me? I'm going to be telling this story for the rest of my life," Magnus grins brightly, and his eyes shine just like that had hours ago, before everything went to hell. He leans in conspiratorially, "you broke his fucking ribs."

"I think I broke more than his ribs," Felix says with a tentatively proud smile. Magnus nodded in absolute agreement. Then, after a moment.

"Have a shower, Felix," he said, "I'm going to go downstairs to the petrol station, see what they have there, and be back in a bit; is it okay with you if I crash on the sofa -?"

"You don't have to do all this, seriously, it's late, please go home," Felix implores, taking Magnus's face in his hands. Magnus, however, looks at him like he's a fool.

"I'm going to make sure you're both okay," he pets Felix's hand on his cheek, smiling so sincerely, "and besides, if I'm down getting stuff, that way you can have a shower and know I'm not using that time to be a creep towards Y/N while you're busy."

After a moment of deliberation, Felix pulls Magnus in to press several kisses to his forehead, calling him an absolute Godsend, while Magnus laughs to hide how flustered it makes him.

The shower is where the adrenaline really starts to wear off and the ache of the fight sets into his muscles and bones. The mirror mists over and the droplets still cling where he wipes his hand over. His knuckles are bruised, as is his face, scratches and split lip and gashes where the rings had punctures his cheek. The makeup and eyeliner that he didn't think to properly remove before his shower probably makes it look a little worse than it is.

There's scratches on his throat, his collar, shallower on his chest where the bastard had tried to get him through his shirt while he was trapped beneath Felix on the ground. Scratches up his arms as the man fought a losing battle.

He takes one of the makeup wipes from the pack and cleans up his face as best he can as the first step. It helps, but not by a lot. Back in the bedroom, once he's dry, he searches his suitcase for pyjamas, getting himself dressed.

In there, there is a long few moments where he watches you sleep, watches the steady rise and fall of your breathing and sees the dried tear tracks on your cheeks.

"Fi, help."

God, he's tearing up at the memory. He should have stopped that cunt at the bar when he'd had the chance, when he first saw it happen. Never in his life has he heard you sound genuinely weak until tonight; his hands shake.

Before he gets you cleaned up, however, he feels like he needs to check... Magnus really didn't have to come back. Yeah, sure, he said he would, but if he got tired, if he needed to call it a night, Felix would not blame him in the slightest. He really was surprisingly lovely, and part of Felix would probably regret not getting his number, but it was understandable -

Magnus is sitting cross-legged in the hall, across from his door, eating a slice of white bread from a grocery bag by his side. In his other hand, he's texting.

"Give us a second, just letting the troupe know I'm fine."

Felix blinks at him. Felix waits. Magnus's thumb works the digits of the Nokia he's focusing on, before he must hit send, satisfied. Then, tucking the phone back into one of the inner pockets of his jacket, he looks up, eyes still that same, bright blue. He looks genuinely pleased to see Felix. Felix, for his part, is genuinely pleased to see him too. Surprised as well, if he was being honest, but pleased.

"You look much better," Magnus comments, and pushes himself to his feet. Bag looped in his arm, Felix sees it's a few basic supplies, bread, maybe some spread, something he can't identify, and something bright red. He offers to pay; Magnus tries to shrug it off, but Felix finally gives a self deprecating smile, gesturing around to the rather luxury hotel room they were in. Magnus gives himself a moment to take it all in again, and finally sighs, smiles, gives in.

He does, however, insist on making them both food.

Grilled cheese; all he could find on short notice since it was getting to the early hours of the morning. Felix watches for a few long moments, the way Magnus moves around the kitchenette with practiced ease, like a man used to these spaces, to life on the road. Felix finds he enjoys just watching Magnus; perhaps this is how people have often felt about him. Magnus doesn't watch him, he feels rather free.

"Do you want to take off your makeup," Felix pipes up just as Magnus reaches for the stove. Magnus freezes, "if you're staying, and being so kind as to make me food, the least I can offer is for you to make yourself comfortable."

"Should have suspected you'd be a good host," Magnus grins over his shoulder, and gently puts the pan down, leaving the stove off for the time being. So Felix directs him to the bathroom and tells him to take all the time he needs, and himself heads to the bedroom. Fishing his wallet from the jeans he'd discarded for the night, he pulls out two fifty pound notes. It's far more than the contents of the grocery bag, but Felix definitely doesn't care. It's so little for how kind he's been.

Opening the bedroom door, however, and he almost runs into Magnus, startling the both of them. Even with the remnants of his makeup still clinging around his eyes, the faintest traces of stubborn eyeliner and mascara, he looks fresh-faced and beautiful. Startled, both by the abruptness, and the fact that he might be even more taken with this man without his makeup on, all Felix can do is hold out the money. Magnus seems to thaw first, chuckles, shakes his head, and calls Felix incredibly generous. Unsurprisingly, Felix insists that it's not generous, it's simply fair compensation for his kindness.

After a moment, Magnus peers around Felix, asking how you were. Felix finally relaxes, assures him that for now you're fine. Magnus's expression is understanding, but still very knowing, as his gaze flicks between Felix and you.

"You take care of them, I'll take care of food," he insists gently. Before Felix can even ask how Magnus knew what that he still wanted to make sure you were comfortable, Magnus pats his chest fondly, "you beat a man half to death for them, I assume you want them to sleep in comfort."

Yeah. Fair. Good assessment of the night, and of Felix.

So Felix smiles, thanks him, and trusts him in the kitchen.

Felix treats you with such reverence in these moments, wiping off your makeup with such care, changing you into your pyjamas while he made sure there were no bruises, no scratches, no sign of this bastard anywhere on you. But no, thankfully not. He could have killed that bastard. Sounds like he almost did.

You frown in your sleep. Felix's heart hurts. But there's nothing more to be done for now.

Magnus is humming softly in the kitchen, a gentle sound amid the comforting sizzle of butter in a pan. Felix watches from the doorway for a long moment, the gentle, neutral expression, the focus on the food, the way he's retied his hair to catch all the hair that had so casually been hanging around his face back at the bar. There's something else different about him, however, and it's not the lack of leather jacket or makeup, it's something Felix can't put his finger on for a good few moments.

"Did you get shorter?"

Magnus stops humming. His gaze slides to Felix out of the corner of his eyes, expression unreadable. Then his gaze drops to the ground, and Felix follows; Magnus is wearing Christmas socks on the cold tiles. After a beat, Felix puts two and two together, and Magnus gives a vaguely sheepish laugh the minute he stalks around the kitchen island to the door. There's a pair of gigantic, black boots sitting primly by the door.

The absurdity of this, on top of everything else, finally has Felix laughing, collapsing against the kitchen island, face in his hands, as Magnus cackles quietly by the stove.

"What even is this night?" Felix groans through his fingers.

"One to remember," Magnus responds sagely as he served the first of the grilled cheeses onto a waiting plate, "the good parts, at least, and the good in the bad," immediately he puts another blob of butter in the pan, "and when you look back, you won't see the rage or the fear," he puts the second set of bread and cheese in the pan before picking up the plate with the first, finished dish, "you'll simply recall the love that inspired it all."

"You're so wise," Felix sighs fingers curling down so he could rest his chin on his fists, glad for the man he'd met by chance just a few hours before, "how'd you get so wise doing backflips in your birthday suit, Magnus?" He can feel himself growing tired, finally, as a yawn hits him, "is that something I should try?" Magnus laughs once again, putting the plate of food in front of Felix. He settles across from him, mirroring with his chin on his hand over the kitchen island.

"I take chances on people who intrigue me."

Somehow this terrible night has come full circle; you're comfortable and safe, there's nothing to worry about, and Felix desperately wants to kiss this damn acrobat who's in his hotel room making him grilled cheese at three in the morning.

"Magnus?"

"Yes, Felix," he murmurs back, smiling softly.

"Is that why you're still here, being so... lovely?"

But there's something in Magnus's eyes that dims at the question, just a little. Taking a deep, hesitant breath, his smile turns a touch awkward as he pushes off of the counter to check on the stove. Felix follows him with his eyes, confused, unsure of what he could have said that was wrong.

"I suppose that could be the short answer," Magnus offers, idly. Felix is quiet, crosses his arms on the bench and sinks down to rest his head there, almost childishly, waiting, "don't know if this is a first-meeting discussion either." Magnus finally comes to, though his tone is thankfully lighter.

Silence. Slowly, Felix sits himself back up and starts on the grilled cheese in front of him, quietly thanking Magnus who once again assures him it's no trouble. They sit and eat in silence together; it's not awkward, but Felix is growing more tired with each moment that passes.

"I'm five-seven," Magnus offers without prompting, halfway through the impromptu meal. Felix snorts so hard he starts almost choking on a lump of cheese. Magnus claps him on the back, snickering to himself. Felix, while trying to blink away the way his eyes are watering, peers over to the boots by the door once more, "six inch platforms."

"Fucking hell, how do you walk around in them?" Felix says between thankfully clearing coughs, "you don't perform in them, do you?"

"Fuck no," Magnus grins, "it's not that hard -"

"They'd make me near about seven foot!" Felix crows.

"Maybe next time you can try them on."

Next time.

Even as Magnus spends the next half hour tending to Felix's wounds, advising on how to take care of his muscles, Felix can't stop grinning to himself. Then Magnus says it again, wearing a grin of his own;

"I'm not kidding, I'm going to make sure you're taking care of yourself next time I see you."

"You promise?" Felix wears a wide, goofy grin, clearly giddy at the prospect, enough so that Magnus can't help but finally pull him in for a kiss.

"Promise, Felix."

#felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #felix catton x reader x oliver quick #head heart hand fic #manic writer

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epicbuddieficrecs · 2 months

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Weekly Recap | March 4th-10th 2024

IT'S PREMIERE WEEK!!!!

Complete

🔥Eddie Diaz vs The Feelings by ElvenSorceress/ @elvensorceress (S6, Sexuality Crisis, Demisexual Eddie | 62K | Explicit): Eddie dives into the mysteries of attraction, romantic love, and asexuality because there's a good chance he's fallen in love with his best friend. AKA demisexual!Eddie figures out he’s demi and finds the happily ever after he’s been longing for

🔥 tell me that i’m all you want (even when i break your heart) by asteriasera/ @asteriasera (Post-S6, Exes to Lovers | 12K | Teen): Buck and Eddie kiss one night, fall in love and don’t say it, then forget to fall out of it when they break up and try to move on with their lives.

Buddie, You're Hot by chronicallystendan (Coming Out, Friends to Fiances | 1K | Teen): Buck is helping Eddie get ready for a date when he ends up outing himself as bi – something he thought Eddie already knew. Wasn't it obvious? - Eddie pursed his lips as he tried not to laugh. "Careful," he said. "That sounded a little bit gay." "A little?" Buck snorted. "Eddie, if you weren't straight, I would be all over you." Eddie's lips parted in surprise and his eyebrows pinched together slightly. "What?"

You Should've Just Kissed Me by chronicallystendan (Post S6E13: Mixed Feelings, Misunderstanding | 2K | Teen): Set after the Poker Date Night, Buck overhears Eddie talking about being set up on a date and wonders aloud why Eddie doesn't just explain that he's already in a relationship - with Buck. -

I'd shine up the old brown shoes, I'd put on a brand-new shirt by trysetmeonfire/ @try-set-me-on-fire (S7 Spec | 3K | Teen): Chris is going on his first date. Eddie calls Buck for backup.

how's your head? (haven't had any complaints) by bucksclipboard (Pre-Buddie | 2K | Mature): When he glanced over, Buck had already drifted off to sleep. He looked so innocent, Eddie almost couldn’t believe what had come out of his mouth mere seconds ago. Almost. Because he was 100 percent sure he’d heard it. or: you can’t just make this kind of joke and forget about it

a place where i feel at home by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Established Buddie | 3K | General): Moments like these remind Buck how much Eddie knows and loves him. Others would push and push Buck when he’s tired and struggling with his words, trying and failing to string together his thoughts, which he can barely do when he’s wide awake and alert. But Eddie never pushes. OR: Sleepy Buck wants cuddles with his boyfriend.

Cooperative Species of the Southern Coastal Husbro by Mad_Lori/ @madlori (Future Fic, Buddie Wedding, Outsider POV | 11K | Teen): In which Abby Clark attends Buck and Eddie's wedding. (Part 6 of Life Cycles of the Southern Coastal Husbro)

a madman and a minstrel by Maira/ @carrierofthepaperclips (Getting Together | 2K | Teen): ...or, the one where Eddie is drugged and confesses his feelings for Buck. To Buck.

and i always will by Maira/ @carrierofthepaperclips (Getting Together | 2K | Mature): ... or, the one where Eddie answers the wrong phone.

Through The Open Window by inkinmyheartandonthepage (Madney Wedding, Getting Together | 2K | General): At the reception of Maddie and Chimney wedding, Eddie stumbles across a Buckley sibling moment and overhears something he probably wasn't meant to hear just yet.

The Night Shift by Veronae (Getting Together | 2K | Teen): “I think I’m in love with Eddie.” Heart pounding against his breastbone, Eddie gripped the handrail of the staircase so hard his fingers turned numb. Buck. That was Buck’s voice.

lay your cards down, down, down by 42hrb/ @exhuastedpigeon (Post-S6, , Married in Vegas | 6K | Mature): Buck and Eddie get drunk at Chim's bachelor party and wake up married.

For the rest of my life (for the rest of yours) by JamesPearce911/ @diazsdimples (Post-S6, Established (secret) Buddie | 10K | General): OR Buck, Eddie and Christopher go to the zoo to see the baby hippo and Eddie gets all up in his feels about it.

normal again? by disasterbuckdiaz/ @disasterbuckdiaz (S7 Spec | 1K | General): Buck and Eddie talk in the gym about what happened at the cruise call

take my hand (take my whole life too) by Maira/ @carrierofthepaperclips (Magical Realism AU | 5K | Teen): ... or, the one where Buck thinks he's allergic to Eddie.

Fractals from the Lightning Bolt by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (One Shots Collection | 52/54 | 95K | Not Rated): A collection of oneshots, some originally posted on tumblr. Each chapter is individually rated.

52. Release the Swimmers (PWP, Explicit)

WIP

🔥 because we'll all arrive in heaven alive by callmenewbie/ @puppyboybuckley (Post-S6, Disaster Fic | 8/10 | 51K | Explicit): During a search and rescue, Eddie disappears without a trace, leaving Buck to grapple with the sudden possibility of a life without him.

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briar / @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon S1-S6, S7 Spec | 121/? | 369K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

🔥 Any Other Way by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, S2 | 5/18 | 32K | Mature): In a switcheroo alternate universe, Buck spends young adulthood in the military, while Eddie, who has no idea Christopher exists, spends his twenties messing around, finally enjoying freedom away from his family’s expectations. When they both end up in Los Angeles, at the 118, some things are different, and others will be the same in any universe.

Kiss Me Once Cause You Know I Had A Long Night by I_still_dont_understand_13 / @sherlockcrossing (Prompt collection | 28/? | 18K | Teen): 100 kiss prompts.

28. 17. Sliding your hands down your lover's chest

🔥 if i need to rearrange my particles — i will for you. by dylaesthetics (Post-S6, Identity Porn | 9/11 | 22K | Teen): OR Buck joins a support app for first responders and matches with a firefighter who has PTSD and a kid who likes giraffes, apparently.

#buddie #buddie fanfiction #buddie fic rec #buddie fanfic #buddie fic #epic buddie fic rec

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tightjeansjavi · 3 months

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party trick

A/N: this silly little fic is directly inspired by this hilarious post by @pedge-page 😝 this fic is meant to be silly, a little unrealistic, and fun! If that ain’t your thing, no worries! Just scroll on by, gem. Also, big thanks to @itsokbbygrl for betaing and @morallyinept for encouraging me with my shenanigans! hehe.

~word count: 1.9k~

Summary: your boyfriend Dieter wants to show you his new party trick that he learned from a pornstar named Ezra

Pairing | Dieter Bravo x pornstar!Ezra x f!reader

Warnings: fluff, smut, established relationship, mentions of drugs and eating, dieter and the reader are openly bi, implied open relationship (not described) Ezra is a bi male pornstar (definition of bi panic) (very light dubious consent as reader and dieter smoke before fucking but it is not described) male masturbation, self sucking??, reader is able bodied with no physical descriptions, readers nickname is gumdrop, no age gap, +18, minors dni!

Your first date with the ever-so eccentric, Dieter Bravo, was a success! Sure, he was a bit clumsy, and maybe even a bit of a blubbering idiot, but you had an incredible time. Did you kiss? Well—maybe! There’s a tell-tale sign when he admires the color of your lipstick against the heart shaped patch in his beard.

After that first date, he washes his face, but is careful to not remove the residue of your lipstick. Not even a week goes by and he’s asking you out on a second date.

Two dates turns to ten and somewhere down the line…you’re Dieter Bravo’s girlfriend, and you couldn’t be happier. (And neither could he)

Dieters plan for the evening was to throw a party with some of his friends: not necessarily a rager, per se, just an intimate get-together. Pop a few bottles, skinny dip in his inground pool, and dance under the California night sky.

He canceled his plans last minute because the only person he wanted to spend his evening with was you, his gumdrop.

Hiya, gumdrop baby! 💗

Dee! Hey, baby boy 🥰 having fun at your party?

He cheeses a smile down at his phone, dimples on display, fingers typing fast on the tiny screen, little tap tap taps echoing through the cooling evening air.

Good golly, I’m blushing 🤭 actually…I canceled the party! Just wasn’t feeling the vibes for it! Wanna come over?

Yes! I’d love to! I was just about to order some takeout. Want me to pick something up on the way?

Yes! How about veggie grill? I was just about to smoke, want me to wait up for ya? Oh! Also, I got something I wanna show you later 😉

Being in a relationship with Dieter meant that nothing he could possibly say or do surprised you anymore, but his vibrance, care-free, goofy, eccentric attitude, made him even more attractive to you. That and the fact that he was the literal definition of a trash panda. Your trash panda specifically.

Sounds good to me! 💗 did you want your usual or something different? You don’t have to wait for me, Dee! I’ll have some when I come over. Oh? What is it that you want to show me? 👀

Okie doke! Hey, how about you just order the whole menu? My treat! See ya soon, gumdrop xx. And you’ll see! It’s a surprise. Hehe.

God, Bravo. You sure know how to spoil a gal rotten! Looking forward to the surprise!

He hearted your messages before he reached behind his ear and grabbed his perfectly rolled joint and reached for his lighter that was resting on the table next to the poolside chair he was spread out on.

He couldn’t wait to see you and show you his new party trick.

Hours earlier in the day, Dieter found himself in his bed, boxers discarded on the floor and his fist languidly wrapped around his half-hard cock.

His freehand was scrolling through Pornhub, trying to find something to get off to. Usually it didn’t take him very long to settle on a video, but today he was finding it to be a bit of an annoying struggle.

He scrolled and scrolled till he stumbled upon something he had never seen before, self sucking?

He spit into his palm, using his saliva as a natural lubricant because he was too lazy to reach across his nightstand to grab his favorite bottle of lotion (ain’t nobody got time for that!).

Holy shit! He’s sucking himself off??

Christ, his cock is taking up the entire screen!

Dieter's private thoughts ran rabid as he watched the pornstar, Ezra, easily bend over and suck the head of his cock (which was massive, by the way) into his mouth.

“Holy fuck! How is that even possible?!” Dieter announced in disbelief.

He paused the video, and went to Ezra’s page and scrolled till he found the contact button and a direct link to Ezra’s instagram. He sent him a message:

Hey! I hope this doesn’t come off as weird or creepy (feel free to ignore) but I watched one of your videos just now…the self sucking one and DUDE, nice cock! How the hell do I do that? 🫣

Ezra responds seconds later after hearting the message,

HOLY SHIT! THEE DIETER BRAVO GOT OFF TO MY COCK? 🥵 (sorry, huge fan!) anyway, gem, I’d be happy to show you the art of self sucking, and then you too can be a pro like me. xx

Dudeee you’re a fan of me?? I’m blushing! 😉 okay, okay, I have to ask…is it all natural?

I am, indeed! You have quite the eccentric presence, gem. Oh, it’s natural alright. The gods have certainly laid their blessing upon my loins x.

Ohhh, I get it! You’re like Shakespeare? 🤣 damn, you sure know how to swing that thing around! Anyway, I will take you up on that offer! Here’s my number:

Lawl. You’re a funny one huh, gem? I suppose I am a bit like Shakespeare both with my verbiage, and my cock. You free right now?

The funniest guy around! Well, Romeo, got my cock out and everything, let’s boogie?

Boogie we shall.

And so that’s how Dieter ended up FaceTiming with Ezra: who coincidentally, also had his cock out.

“Not to be a total massive fucking flirt, but you’re gorgeous, and my girlfriend would probably eat you right up!” Dieter preened, leaning in close so he could get a better look at Ezra’s third limb, er, cock.

“Oh?” Ezra smirks, “would she now? Well, gem, perhaps the three of us should get together sometime?”

“Yes! You can be like the skunk to my raccoon!” Dieter said with a giggle.

“I beg your finest pardon? Your—what?”

“Oh! Sorry, sorry. Probably should have provided some context, huh?” Dieter blushes.

“Naturally, gem. Go on.” Ezra sits back on his elbows, listening,

“So, my girlfriend calls me a trash panda! It’s endearing, really. And well, you got that blonde streak in your hair…so you can be the skunk?”

Ezra chuckles in pure amusement, eyebrows raising, heavy cock bobbing between his thighs.

“A skunk, huh? You’re lucky I think you’re cute, gem.”

Dieter fanned his face like the little slut that he was, and giggling, “You think I’m cute?”

“Cute as a button, gem. Now, let’s see what we’re working with so that you can show your girlfriend what I taught you.”

“Yes sir.”

Ezra is a wonderful teacher and by the end of it, Dieter is almost able to suck the head of his cock into his mouth. There’s a slight strain in his lower back, but fuck it! You only live once.

“Well, gem, I think you just have to remember to relax your muscles. Pretend you’re floating on a babbling brook, or napping on a fluffy cloud, and then you’ll be sucking yourself off in no time. I gotta run, but let me know how it goes!”

“Ahh! Okay, I think I can manage that! Thanks for all the help, Ezra.”

“Anytime, gem. Anytime.”

After passing the joint back and forth together, fucking (a few times) and devouring the veggie grill you brought over, Dieter brings you upstairs to his bedroom, nearly stumbling over his two feet because he’s so excited to show you his new party trick!

“Sit that cute ass on the bed, gumdrop.” He’s not being domineering at all, quite the opposite actually.

You’re both naked, naturally because in Dieter’s home, clothes are always optional!

You wrap your arms around him from behind, kissing his jawline, pecking at the heart patch in his beard. “Are you gonna show me the surprise now, Dieter?”

He leans back into your embrace with a pleasant sigh, “Yes, gumdrop. But c’mon, bed. Now.”

You press one last kiss to his face before detaching yourself from around him, walking over to the bed and plopping down with a soft, oof.

He joins you moments later, laying on his elbow facing you while you reach across and card your fingers through the soft curly hairs on his chest.

“So I was watching this porno earlier, right? I did a deep scroll, and stumbled across this video of this dude…with literally the biggest fucking cock that my two eyes have ever seen!” He speaks animatedly, throwing his hands up as he leans in.

“It literally took up the entire fucking screen, gumdrop! Anyway, that wasn’t the craziest part! His cock was so big, and long, that the motherfucker was able to suck himself off! Dude barely even had to bend over, just popped that sucker right in and got to suckin’!”

You twirl a strand of his chest hair between your fingers, giggling as you listen to his dramatic retelling of the massive cock he saw.

“Shit, it really took up the whole screen? That’s insane, Dee!”

“YEAH! Like…the guy was packing a literal BAZOOKA down there!” He chuckles, leaning in so he can nuzzle his face against yours.

“Anyway, I found the guy's instagram and sent him a message because I thought to myself, ‘Damn! Imagine if I could also suck my own cock?’”

“Let me guess, you asked this pornstar fellow how you can suck your own cock like him?”

“Yes! How did you know?” He chuckled and stole a quick kiss, melting against you like the soft man that he was.

“Lucky guess?” You tease, dragging your finger down lower, skating it across one of his nipples. “So, was it a success? Did he teach you how to properly suck your own cock, Dee?”

“Well, I was actually able to barely get the tip in my mouth! Wanna see, gumdrop? S’gonna be my new party trick!”

“Show me, Dee.” You giggle, encouraging him as he quickly sits up, remembering how Ezra told him the way to curve his spine, and relax his muscles so that he can bend over just enough—

Dieter is hunched over, using one hand to hold the base of his cock, and the other is resting against his lower back for support. He’s so fucking close to wrapping his lips around the head of his cock when–pinch!

He yelps in surprise, immediately rolling over and yowling like a cat.

Ow. Ow. Ow! Fuck! Fuck me! Ow!

You're at his side in an instant, comforting him and reaching for your phone to either call 911, or look up an immediate remedy for his pain.

“Fucking pulled a goddamn muscle!” He whimpers, burying his face into your chest.

“Dee, it’s okay! You’re not dying, baby. Okay? Look! Google says that we have to treat the area with ice and then a heating pad!”

“I’M DYING, GUMDROP! I SEE THE LIGHT!” Your boyfriend dramatically groans, “I'M FADING FAST!”

After icing Dieter’s lower back for a good hour or so, you placed a heating pad against the sore spot while spooning him for extra body heat.

He was typing a message to Ezra, a deep frown set between his eyebrows because he really just wanted to know what it was like to suck himself off! (Who wouldn’t)

Hey, Ez. I pulled a fucking muscle in my back!

☹ gf is spooning me with a heating pad now, but I was really hoping that I would be able to suck myself off!

From Ezra: (Shakespeare-BAZOOKA 🍆)

Aw, I’m terribly broken to hear that, gem. Better luck next time, Birdie!

The next time Dieter announced to you that he wanted to try and suck his cock again, you came prepared with two yoga mats and a beginner yoga flow video (thrifted, of course).

He gives you a funny look as you set the yoga mats down in the sunroom.

“What?” You laugh, placing your hands on your hips. “It would be a cool party trick, Dee! Just gotta get you a little more flexible and bendy before we try again.”

Ohhh. He grins, dimples peeking out, “Well, let’s yogi, gumdrop.”

banners made by the lovely @saradika-graphics 💗

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gay-dorito-dust · 7 months

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Hi, can I request Bi Han, Kuai Liang and Tomas (separately or together) reactions to a f!reader who is seeking refuge with the Lin Kuei/Shirai Ryu? She knows the brothers from a long time ago, and after a seriously battle, she needs help with her injuries and just laying low. It can be platonic or romantic, I don't mind. Thank you for all your stories!!!

Idk what this was exactly, I went through multiple drafts but decided to wing it and this became a thing. 🦦

This trio of brothers would take a unanimous vote that you were to stay within the Lin Kuei, just until they could prove that you wouldn’t be sought after, by having frequent search parties look high and low for the individual who had put you in such a injured state in the first place.

Now how the trio would take care of the situation in the meantime were vastly different;

Kuai Liang is out with the search parties looking for your assailant to satiate the anger he felt upon seeing your multiple injuries, many of which from what he could see were intended to have you killed. This only proved to piss Kuai Liang even more that someone was targeting you and if so, what purpose? Did they know of your ties to him, Tomas and Bi-Han?

Either way Kuai Liang felt the need to protect you from this threat by any means necessary as to make up for failing you the first time. He’s steadfast in his ways to keep you safe, he’s stubborn and he’s itching to exact revenge on your behalf.

He essentially becomes your guard dog of sorts.

He’s incredibly stubborn about leaving you for prolong periods of time but he wasn’t about to fight with the medics and will leave for a bit before coming back to watch over you again.

Kuai Liang would even help change your dressings when it was appropriate, much like he did when you would get injured from doing stupid shit and getting scolded by Bi-Han afterwards. He would be his most gentle at this moment in time as he would check up on you, asking how you were feeling and telling you the progress that was being made towards finding your assailant.

Tomas Vrbada would visit you in the medbay the most out of the three, always occupying the seat beside your bed, holding your hand, helping administrate medication when needed and even cooking you easy to consume meals per the medics instructions.

Other than that Tomas would keep you company throughout your healing process whilst hiding his feeling of immense guilt behind a soft smile. He wouldn’t be a hard one to remove from the medbay like Kuai Liang but he would do so begrudgingly, not liking that he’d have to leave you unguarded for long periods of time. So much so that when Tomas came back he would’ve gotten you something from a nearby village as a way to apologise for his absence.

He had gotten you so many gifts that he thought you’d like that he has to move them into one of the spare rooms in the Lin Kuei, more specifically as not to cluster the medbay from hindering the medics from doing their duties.

Tomas would even talk to you about his day in hopes of getting your mind away from the assailant, wanting to provide you an escape from your situation that his two brothers would always bring up upon visiting you. He just didn’t want you to stress yourself out over all this and just take time to rest and let him, Kuai Liang and Bi-Han take care of everything else.

He frequently promises to find your attacker but until then you were to be under his and his brother’s surveillance indefinitely.

Bi-Han would visit the medbay the least but that was due to his duty as Grandmaster and could be often found leading the search parties alongside Kuai Liang in search for your assailant, leaving not a single area unchecked, only to come back home visibly frustrated with their lack of progress. It was almost as though the assailant had just up and left the scene not longer after the fight, knowing that they’d be wanted by the Lin Kuei for hurting one of their own.

So when Bi-Han does visit you, it’s usually sometimes late at night when he couldn’t sleep and all he does is place himself in the vacant seat by your bedside, sitting in absolute silence while you slept peacefully. Bi-Han wanted to scoff at your ability to sleep easy despite almost having succumb to your wounds on a multitude of occasions, he suspected that you would be kept up late at night, on edge that your assailant might somehow or someway break into the Lin Kuei and finish what they started.

Not like that would ever happen, Bi-Han practically forbade that being a plausible scenario by having some of his most loyal to perform a mandatory night watch. And besides even if the off chance that they did manage to break in, they would have to face him before delving any further and Bi-Han would promise that he wouldn’t go easy on the assailant either, he’d be aiming to kill and all that.

However if he was able to visit you during the early morning, when he knew he wouldn’t get spotted making a trip towards the kitchen in order to make you something, just like he use to when you were had foolishly forgone the need to eat throughout the day, something he didn’t find out until later on when he saw how weak you were.

Bi-Han doesn’t often show that he cares for you because he was never properly shown how and so when he does, he does so when there is little to no one to bare witness to him prepare you a snack, getting you glasses of water or just watching over you while you slept. For he’s not quite use to being vulnerable or open towards anyone, especially when he’s known you for quite a long time, it was still hard for him to convey that he cared. Yet that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do little things throughout your healing process, for acts of service was his way of saying that he valued you and your company without having to vocalise it.

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daniwib · 2 months

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Musing on Ryan & Oliver’s pre-s7 interviews at the premiere party

Oliver: They get to show up for each other in different ways. But they’re moving forward. There’s almost like potential for things to come up in not so great a light.

Ryan: Well there’s something brand new for both of us.

I would LOVE to see Eddie ‘moving forward’ coming out as gay and Buck being completely thrown by it ‘something brand new for both of us’. Not because he’s not supportive, but the opposite – he suddenly becomes very aware that Eddie LIKES GUYS. And who is a guy? Buck is, of course. And apparently Eddie ‘loves him to his core’ – and Buck loves Eddie too, of course he does. But Buck isn’t gay. Is he? So off Buck goes on an internal spiral that naturally he doesn’t speak to anyone else about, especially Eddie.

Meanwhile Eddie, sweet baby gay Eddie, is feeling sensitive about coming out so late in life and takes Buck’s weird reaction ‘in not so great a light’ and that Buck is not supportive and thus we have some delicious angst between them both. Maybe even a fight and them keeping their distance (divorce era 2.0 yes please).

Oliver: But we get to see their friendship persevering. And them being there in ways that they don’t necessarily expect for each other.

Buck has his own bi crisis and I know we’re all excited about Tommy being part of either Eddie or Buck’s queer awakening but honestly, I would really like to see Buck turn to Hen and Karen about it. Hen’s been there for Buck for such a long time, she deserves to be the one to talk him through this, not some random throwback hottie. Perhaps Tommy flirts with Eddie which gives Buck the push he needs to talk to someone (Hen) about his confusing feelings and jealously.

Oliver: And I just think it’s a really lovely journey for them this season.

Hen, and possibly Maddie or others convince Buck and Eddie to Actually Talk To Each Other. This of course takes the rest of the season because let’s face it, after watching these two be oblivious about each other for 6 seasons, nothing is going to happen quickly.

I predict their last scene together in s7 will be one with the most meaningful eye contact we have seen yet, and perhaps them moving towards each other to kiss before it cuts, leaving us all hanging for s8 – but with confirmation that Buddie WILL become canon.

Eventually.

#my predictions #on buddie becoming canon #based on THOSE interviews #911 spoilers #911 s7 spoilers #s7 speculation #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #911 #9-1-1 #angst #911 abc

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sokkigarden · 11 months

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I saw you were doing some smutty headcanons for Jamie (that I may or may not have reads and re-read many times…😝) seriously love your writing babes!!) aaaand how do you think Jamie would be for his and the reader’s first time together, after admitting feelings with a friends-to-lovers trope??

thank you sm for the compliment and the ask!! ugh i eat up friends to lovers um this is so good. more under the cut bc i ended up writing a bit too much LOL

jamie tartt x gn!reader | friends to lovers | first time | nsfw

i'm a bi-jamie truther so i think he's generally attracted to a lot of people and with his friends, there's a level of physical attraction like 'yeah my friends are fit' but also having that emotional connection could lead to romantic feelings, you know?

there's probably an inciting incident that leads to him having a full on crush on you, like maybe someone's harrassing you at a bar and he swoops in to play the boyfriend and oh no he kinda likes touching you and affectionately calling you 'babe' too much?? so now he's got this lil crush and anytime you guys go out in public, he gets a little more touchy, draping an arm around your shoulder at a restaurant and letting his hand brush against yours as you walk through town.

it finally comes to a head when you guys are at a party and one of the richmond players is joking about how jamie really just acts like your boyfriend at this point and neither of you know how to respond. bc he has a raging crush and whoops! you've always liked him more than you were willing to admit.

so you go on a proper date after talking about it and admiting you like each other. once you both realize just how much you like each other, its hard to get through the rest of dinner and the plan to see a movie after is completely scrapped. he keeps his hand on your knee the entire way back to his place.

you end up pressed against his door, with his hands all over you and his mouth kissing across your face, along your neck and collarbone and you barely make it inside before you start losing clothing.

it's that classic movie cliche where you keep losing bits of clothing as you both make your way upstairs kissing the daylights out of each other. there's just a lot of kissing in general and your hands are all over each other because wow we never thought we'd end up here.

he'd be pretty gentle and kinda vanilla the first time, wanting to make sure you both enjoy it and really soak up the fact that you are here together. there would be a lot of foreplay, maybe some oral. you both want to make it last as long as you can. he's calling you every pet name under the sun and asking "is this good?" "you alright, yeah?" and you're just melting from it all.

at the end of it, you both clean each other up and fall asleep. waking up the morning after, you've both got a smile on your faces and while you kinda want to have another quick session before he has to run off to training, you don't worry too much about it, because you don't feel a pressure to be perfect or rush into things. he'll come back after you both get home from work and you'll have all the time in the world to explore everything together.

#this got so long UM #jamie tartt smut #jamie tartt x reader #friends to lovers #ted lasso fic #request #my works

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multifandom-worlds · 5 months

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Loki's Missus and Midnight Whiskey Kisses

Genre: fluff? Frankly, I don't know.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Alcohol, the reader not liking Thor.

Authors note: Another addition to Life in Asgard! There may be a little bit of Queer-baiting at the end; however, in the series, Lady Laufeyson (us) is Bi, so. Other than that - enjoy!

Tagging:

@simplyholl @holdmytesseract @lokiprompts @dryyoursaltyoceantears @buttercupcookies-blog @ladyofthestayingpower @sarahscribbles

The Avengers compound was filled with laughter and conversation - people mingling and caterers catering. Tony had all of New York’s elites over for a New Year’s Eve celebration - that included you, Loki and the rest of the Avengers. You didn’t exactly want to go, but Loki convinced you by promising a kiss at midnight - that was all you needed. You donned a sexy velvet green dress, complete with a plunging neckline, two thigh slits and sleeves.

“Do we have to, Loki? I want to be back in Asgard with you, where we can be open about our relationship.” You ask, putting on your jewellery at the vanity, leaving your Asgardian engagement and wedding ring in their box. She looked down at her hand, once adorned with Loki’s rungs, now bare, sighing. “Why can’t we live in Asgard permanently? Tony wouldn’t care as long as I’m safe.”

Loki’s arms snake around your midsection, placing a soft kiss on the exposed part of your shoulder. “I know, my Dove, this is not the most comfortable situation to be in, but I assure you, as soon as our presence is no longer required, we can head back home. I don't myself care about being here for such demonstrations of wealth.”

You cover his hands with yours, resting your head against his shoulder. “Let's go get this over with.” You chuckle slightly, looking up at him. He kisses your cheek before backing away, granting you room to stand. “I’ll go first; you come a few minutes later, so.”

Loki chuckles, “My Queen, I am hardly ready myself.” You turn to face him, only to see he is, in fact, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, the thin material pulled tight over his hips and thighs. Your face burns, seeing him so skimpily clad. Sure, you’ve seen his entire body before, but something about being at your brother’s made it feel like the first time.

“Loki! How can you expect me to leave when you’re half-naked?” You groan, running a manicured finger along the contours of his torso. He only laughs in response before placing his hands on your hips and spinning you towards the door, giving you a gentle push.

“All in due time, Dove. Now go so I can ready myself, and I will meet you there.” You turn around to give him a quick kiss before you go, only to see he shut the door. You grumble before making your way to the elevator, meeting up with Natasha and Wanda on their way down.

The ride down to the first floor was nothing more than you 3 paying each other compliment after compliment, expressing desires to see what was under the dress, mostly coming from Nat. “That dress would look so much better on my floor.” Nat laughs.

Wanda smacks her arm gently. “You’re not a God, Nat; she’s not interested,” Wanda retorts with a laugh. Wanda, Nat and Tony were the only ones you trusted with the knowledge of your marriage to Loki; they’re the only ones you trusted. You knew the girls wouldn’t say anything, and Tony didn’t want to risk losing his sister again, not like the first time, not like that day in the rain.

Before the elevator door even opened, you three could hear the din of the party. You rub your temples, already anticipating the headache that’s going to come from this as you step out of the elevator. Thor and Tony were there to greet you. “Good evening, Lady Stark,” Thor bows, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles. It takes all your strength not to gag.

As soon as your hand was free of Thor’s grip, Tony immediately put a glass in it, preventing any further awkward encounters. He wraps his arm around your shoulder, leading you deeper into the party, introducing you to the upper echelon of New York - governors, military personnel, you name it, your brother invited them.

While you are busy being paraded around with your brother, Loki finally enters the party, only to be greeted by his brother. “Brother, you must see how beautiful Lady Stark looks this evening. I believe tonight is the night she finally accepts my advances.”

A searing heat burns in Loki’s fist, thinking about Thor trying to woo you, so he offers up a challenge, knowing he cannot resist a challenge. “If you believe so strongly about this, you wouldn’t mind some friendly competition, would you, Brother? The goal of the evening to get the Lady Stark to share a kiss with us at midnight. Do you accept this challenge?”

Thor contemplated for a second before he agreed to the challenge, just as Loki knew he would. Lucky for you, Natasha was within earshot of the whole conversation. She comes up to you, prying you away from Tony before whispering in your ear, “Thor and Loki are going to have a competition this entire party to see which one of them you’re going to kiss at midnight; just a heads up.”

You roll your eyes, annoyed that you’re going to have to tolerate Thor’s pitiful attempts to win you over. “Why would Loki subject me to something like that.” You whine to Nat, taking a nice big drink of your drink. “He really is the worst sometimes. He kicked me out even though he was half-naked? Like he got to watch me dress, why couldn’t I watch him?”

Nat chuckles in response before Thor makes his way over to you, Loki hot on his heels, a mischievous glint in his eye and a smile on his lips. “Lady Stark, you look elegant tonight,” Thor spoke, his hand brushing against your arm.

“T-thank you, Thor.” you stutter, caught off guard by the fact he touched you. Was this the standard way of courting on Asgard? Loki mouths a quick apology, although you know he is not sorry in the slightest. Loki walks up; this time, it is his turn to pay you a compliment.

In keeping with the theme, Loki arched his eyebrow, “A lady who likes the harder stuff, that’s my kind of woman.” He walks away to refill your drink. Thankfully, Natasha swoops in and steals you away again, giggling the entire way out onto the balcony.

“You look absolutely ravishing tonight, Lady Stark. Might I tempt you with a second drink?” He asks, putting on all the charm he can muster. You hold back your giggles - something about the way he spoke or the exaggerated theatrics of the compliment was funny to you.

“Another whiskey, if you may, sir.” You answer, handing him your glass.

“That was so dramatic.” She laughs as Loki returns with your drink, shutting the balcony door behind him and hiding in the shadows. “ What made you make this silly competition anyway, Loki?”

Leaning against the wall, Loki smiles mischievously. “My brother has always fancied my wife, even before she was my wife. It's time to show him and the rest of New York who she really belongs to. Make it look like I won her over tonight.”

You roll your eyes again with a faint giggle. “You really are the worst, you know that, Love?” You take the drink from his hand before turning towards the balcony door, sliding it back open. “I’ll see you in there; see if you can win me over by the night’s end.” You wink before stepping back inside.

Thor and Loki spent the rest of the party flirting with you in 2 distinctly opposite ways.

An “You’re so pretty” from Thor

A “Gods, you are breathtaking; Freyja would be envious.” from Loki. An “I would make love to you all day long” from Thor.

An “I will be having you screaming all night long” from Loki.

By the time 11:55 pm rolls around, you are half drunk and thoroughly exhausted from this entire ordeal. Thor and Loki stand beside each other, ready to hear which one of them won the honour of ringing in the new year on your lips.

However, you decided to make them sweat a little bit, your payback for what they put you through. You slink over to them, running manicured fingers along Thor’s chest before walking over to your husband, grabbing his tie and pulling him in so he was just mere millimetres away from your lips before backing away again.

“I choose…” You begin, looking between the two of them before looking over at Natasha. “....Nat.” Natasha winks at the boys before fully embracing you, hands in your hair and everything, before pulling you in for a sloppy, exaggerated kiss.

10…

You two break apart in a fit of giggles, this being your plan the entire time. “You should see your face right now, love.” You say, walking over to Loki and placing your arms around his neck. His hands rest on your hips as a faint chuckle falls from his lips.

“That was not the intended end, but I definitely did not mind watching that.” He teases, pulling you tight to his body as the countdown begins.

9…

8…

6…

“Do I get the honours of having your midnight kiss?”

7…

5…

“Every year, Loki.”

4…

3…

2…

His lips find yours in a heated, desperate kiss, fingers digging into your hips as he deepens the kiss.

1…

One minute, you could hear everyone shouting, “Happy New Year!” the next, the peaceful serenity you learned to associate with Asgard. You pull away from your husband, resting your forehead against his. “Happy New Year, my love. There is no one else I would rather ring it in with.”

“Really? You looked pretty into that kiss with Miss Romanoff.” He teases, kissing your nose.

“Oh, shut up and just kiss me again.”

“With pleasure”

#loki laufeyson #loki of asgard #mcu loki #loki god of mischief #loki fluff #loki marvel #loki x female reader #loki x reader #loki x you

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noturvlentine · 1 year

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the same damn thing

matty healy x reader based on this request🖤

requests are open still!!! this is my first matty request so to anon i hope it somewhat resembles what you had in mind :)

do not copy my stuff elsewhere but reblogs are appreciated 🖤

Summary- when you decided to take a break from your own music, you focused on helping matty and the boys on their new record and tour, offering your vocals for about you during a few live sets- though tonight, Matty’s lyrics hit differently. You realised that theyre about you-

lots of random doubting and fluff?

Word count 1.3k

༺ ♰ ༻

You were set for the stage any minute now, though it was a matter of how dramatic Matty was setting himself up to be that night. Tonight was your last time lending a hand to The 1975 before you set back on your own tour, for the past two shows, Matty had asked for you perform About You with the band on stage- an offer you couldn’t decline.

You remember London, 02, night two. You were an unannounced guest but honestly didn’t expect as huge of a welcome as you got that night, probably because you were no where near as interesting as Taylor swift from the previous show. You and Matty had always been a thing, platonically and sentimentally since Jack Antonoff introduced you two back ages ago. However, Matty would cowardly disagree.

First, he asked you if you’d like to be on a track for their latest album. He’d asked if you were willing to record your vocals for About You, and he’d ask when you were free.

And secondly, he was still in love with you. Whatever had been brewing inside him for the past- god knows how long had finally eaten him up from the inside and he was done being subtle. He was petrified that this tender desire to be with you would eventually suffocate him- he was done avoiding writing about you. The moment he swore to George about being earnest, he knew it was completely over for him. He’d tried to love you once. Though that was interrupted by a round of horse therapy and two rounds of tours from both parties- he didn’t know if it’ll end the way it always did. And something in side you was clawing at your rib cage too, curling around you heart and spreading infectiously under the radar.

On your second night, in Birmingham you felt the warmth of his stare prying its way into your mind, and down to your heart. You’d spent the entire night and the rest of the next day, until now- trying to tend to the animal of feelings that had scratched its way out from your chest. How long has it been like this? How long had you tamed your love for him and why now?

It all made sense now. The way he’d make up for your lost time together right after coming home from tour, in between shows and whatever he was up to. The desperation in his eyes when he’d ask if you’d come perform for them and this new doomed earnestness he’d adopted for the album. You stared blankly at the lights illuminating the stairs from the hallway to the wings, your earpiece rested around your neck, fidgeting with your hands and picking on the bottom of your top. Why now?

Were all your anonymous love songs secretly for written for Matty? Did your subconsciousness realise what you had going before you ever saw clear enough? Did you mean everything you’d supposedly said about him in your music?-

“Hey! You’re up!”

One of the stage hands had motioned for you towards the wings, that frail white door waiting for you to open it. You couldn’t drop your thoughts about Matty- you were fucked.

Pressured by the song, already crescendoing through the speakers, you made your way through the dark towards the door, opening it quietly as you walked onto the dimly lit stage. You made your way past Jamie and George, picking up a microphone set on a stool next to a pillar- exactly like you did the previous night.

You and I,

Don’t let go-

Were alive,

Don’t let go-

With nothing to do, I could lay and just look in your eyes

Your voice was slightly lower than Polly’s but it made for a good harmony. The Birmingham crowd had lost the moment you’d began those words.

Wait,

Don’t let go-

And pretend,

Don’t let go-

Hold on and hope that we’ll find our way back in the end

You started to think that the song was too optimistic for a man who couldn’t make up his mind sometimes. And indeed Matty had never given up on you since he first realised that he was in love with you- only now were your paths beginning to cross. Making your way down to Matty, sitting on the edge of the top half of the stage looking down at him, you saw that same flare in his eyes that had landed you in an entanglement of intoxicating emotions.

Do you think I have forgotten?

About you?

His eyes were fixated on you, and maybe you liked the way he looked from this angle but whatever it was- it made your heart race exhaustingly, more than any rush of performance adrenaline could ever accomplish.

There was something bout you that now, I cant remember

Its the same damn thing that made my heart surrender

And I miss you on the train, I miss you in the morning

I never know what to think about

I think about you-

And in the moment of that exact brief surrender of a heart- it finally hit you. Matty had written this song for you- unable to decide whether it would be the end of him if you ever picked up on it. He didn’t know how you’d screwed him over with your smile and gentle eyes that rained and flooded his mind all too often. He simply couldn’t deal with it much longer as the house he’d built around his love for you would eventually collapse under his swelling heart. You kept singing on autopilot, your legs now crossed as you sat on the floor still looking at him.

Do you think I have forgotten?

About you?

Dont let go-

About you-

Do you think I have forgotten?

About you?

Dont let go-

Matty could see the shock in your eyes as his inevitable exposure had crossed you. He saw the way you were looking at him even through the strobing lights on stage and the unforgiving roar of crowd. You microphone had now been turned off and switched to earpiece transmission only. It was then out of carnival instinct you picked it up and held it right against your chest-

‘I love you’

You blurted out like a bittersweet whisper which passed straight into Matty’s earpiece. He looked at you equally stunned as if his collection of ‘almost confessions’ were laid out right on your body.

Without even asking he walked the distance towards you, closing the gap between you as he stood before you. His eyes never left yours and during a fleeting moment of confessions, he snaked his hand up around you neck, bringing you down into a kiss. You were now leaning over the side of the stage, and Matty was on the tips of his toes- the rest of the band were still going to your surprise but the rest of the arena had just lost their collective minds. He kissed you. Tender and sweet. It was rotten work to love you but he did it anyway as he stained your heart in return.

Matty pulled away from the kiss, taking both your hands and pulling you down to his level of the stage. His hands were now cupping you face as you stood in front of him, his back still to the audience as John’s sax solo faded into the background.

‘Will you be mine?’ He said, a whisper with the volume of a thousand speakers despite the fact you could barely hear him over the crowd. One nod of the head became two- and soon a million times more as he brought you into a kiss once again.

AN: hope that wasnt a confusing read!! I kinda lost track of where i was going with this one but it made some sort of sense in the end :)

#matty healy x reader #matty healy fic #matty the 1975 #matty healy x y/n #matty healy fluff #matty healy #the 1975 fic #the 1975 x reader #adam hann #ross macdonald #george daniel

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formosusiniquis · 1 year

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Argyle as Steve's bi realization, hear me out.

Steve is used to a certain amount of confusing feelings for people after a lot of close contact, high stress apocalypse stopping. There was the first time with Nancy (and wow Jonathan is actually a pretty cool dude, if he changed his hair a little, maybe stopped taking creep pictures in the woods he could be a really fun to hangout with).

And then there was the second time, and that hurt a little bit more cause Nancy is still just as great. Even when she's moving straight on to Jonathan, who really is just a great dude he's really come into his own and he's got kind eyes even if they are staring at Nancy all the time. It's probably just the residual heartache. Some weird things getting tied up with the only two not children that know about monsters too.

But then there's the third time with Robin. And Steve finally thinks he's figured out what's going on. It's like when you take a girl to a horror movie on the first date, only times a million. Your heart rate is up and your adrenaline is through the roof. Of course he's imprinted on any age appropriate person he's near. He probably did love Nancy, Robin is definitely the platonic love of his life, and that definitely explains all the weird feelings he still sometimes has when he's around Jon for too long. It's all just crossed wires in his traumatized, concussed brain.

By the fourth go around he's got it all figured out. Sure, Eddie is objectively, pretty attractive. Sure, he's great with kids which is like Steve's number one desirable trait he looks for. He's funny, he's got a great smile, he's constantly in Steve's space. But the swoopy feeling in his stomach, the dizzy light headedness. That's all adrenaline and blood loss. Robin isn't an option, he's already done this too many times with Nancy, his brain has found the default all that's left is Eddie Munson. But wow, big boy, that one is… something.

So when all is said and done; and Eddie has claimed to see angels and they all look like Steve Harrington -- he does giggle a little at that, feels the strange urge to kick his feet or twirl his hair. But he's just excited that he's got a new age appropriate friend and that they all made it out mostly unscathed. Any and all blush inducing thoughts and feelings can be easily explained away by the waning stress of a traumatic event and the lingering joy that fuck they really did make it out this time.

But then in the quiet, as the dust settles and they all do their best to find normal again. Jonathan has brought Argyle home to Hawkins.

Argyle who has the nicest hair Steve has ever seen. Whose first words to him are, "Dude, that is a righteous mane you're rocking, do you use oils in your routine cause I really think they'd take you to the next level." Argyle, who manages to convince Dustin 'picky eater' Henderson to try fruit on his pizza. Argyle, who made the best brownies Steve has ever eaten and helped him get high for the first time in nearly a year.

There's no adrenaline to blame this time, no lingering apocalypse.

"Robin, I need to talk to you."

He pulls her away from the rest of the older teen party as quick as he can. Nervous and confused and panicked and excited. For once in their friendship she lets herself be tugged along without complaint, understanding instinctively that this is about to be a bathroom conversation.

"You know how Vickie likes both, guys and girls."

"We do not know that, but I remember your theory."

"Well, she definitely does and I'm pretty sure I do too."

"Oh my god, Steve," she stretches his name out until it echoes, "really, I'm so proud of you. That's so great, wait , who was it? How'd you realize? Oh my gosh was it-"

"-Eddie." "Argyle." they say the names in sync.

"Argyle?" "Eddie?" In sync again even their confusion matches.

"Oh God, Eddie," and with a, mostly, clear head things do start making more sense. Eddie, who is co-parenting the kids with him. Eddie, who always makes sure Steve doesn't neglect his own needs in favor of the rest of the group. Eddie, who watched Steve and Lucas play a pickup game last weekend even though he clearly didn’t get the rules past ball in basket. Eddie, who has been reading Lord of the Rings to him over the phone when the nightmares keep them both awake and they can feel razored teeth and barbed tails clawing at their skin. Eddie, who still hasn't gotten his vest back because the thought of losing it makes something hot and tight clench in Steve's chest. "Robin, Eddie!"

Robin, for her part looks relieved, "Thank God, I did not know how to tell you that I'm pretty sure that Argyle was gonna be another partner Jonathan beat you out for."

And with that name comes another realization, "Oh my god, Robin I had a thing for Byers." He can see the laughter threatening to break through and as the giggles start he actually processes what she said, "wait, Jon and Argyle, really?"

She pushes down her laughter, "Yeah, pretty sure the two of them and Nancy are having a little ménage à trois, if you get my meaning."

"Yeah that French I do know."

Robin let's them sit on the cold tile of his bathroom floor, processing and just sharing each other's company. She let's Steve find just a moments peace before she says, "You know this means you've had a thing for everyone in that room, right?"

He lets her guide him into laughing, just like they laughed together in the Starcourt bathroom. It's easier than getting embarrassed. And anyway she's right, as always, and that feels like a crisis for after he's figured out what to do about his new Eddie problem.

#steddie #steddie fic #i promise it ends steddie #i just like exploring the idea that eddie was not actually steves bi panic moment #argyle stranger things #argyle is just dreamy man idk what to tell you #look at that man and tell me he doesnt inspire bi panic #the hair the hawaiians the general demeanor #jargyle #idk if there is a nancy jon argyle tag but i do feel that #jon has two hands #stranger things #my fic #two original posts in one day though who is she #also i know eddie getting steve high for the first time is a popular and immensely enjoyable trope #but i just feel like eddie doesnt fuck with edibles too much and i just know argyle can bake #i dont know if one is an easier high than the other but i feel like itd be easier to convince steve to try edibles #unless of course hes aware hes crushing on the guy offering to shotgun him and then its a whole other conversation

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winterskydragonx · 7 days

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I’m just fed of the way some people would go all crazy about Tommy, a character that’s been there for barely four episode. I never liked Tommy, but the way some people have reacted to him as made me dislike him more. I needed to write this down to help me feel better. (Also yeah I’m an Eddie girl first and Buddie second, so I’m might be biased.)

Under the cut, since this is long and a bit of rant. Please you don’t have to read it, it’s to help me cope with the way fandom and the show as been going.

One of the biggest problems with making BuckTommy relationship believable is that Eddie as been involved in Bi Buck narrative since the beginning. It's never been only about BuckTommy.

Here are a few issues with that character. (They might seem small, but it doesn't help his character for me.)

There as been no interaction between Tommy & Hen & Chimney. Like it was said they forgave him, but I have yet to see that on my screen properly.

Tommy almost outing Buck on his first date to his friends. Shit comment to do knowing it was his first date with a man.

Leaving him on the side of the road without telling him the date was over. (Like yeah, he was allowed to stop the date, but to wait until his own Uber get there. Nope.)

Newly dating and yet won't make one small effort to dress up for the bachelor party. Yeah, it's not that big of a deal, but why won't you try to impress your date. (Also please don't use he's on call. He would have to change anyway.)

This is my side of it, but their hugs were awkward as hell and since I don't see any chemistry between them so was their kiss. (Yet I agree they have more chemistry when they are kissing, but their interactions are bland.)

Him always calling him Evan feels weird to me, especially of what we know about Buck's past.

So as of right know they have gone on 1 failed date, a small coffee meetup and kissed twice. (If you see love in there, I don’t know why.) We have yet to know how they would treat themselves outside of kissing as the show as not shown that yet. So, it's hard for me to believe they are in relationship when they are not making the effort to show it.

They could have made the effort to show him more involved in helping find Chimney during the wedding episode. Nope they had him come to the bachelor party not dressed up and then have him leave for the rest of the episode only for him to come back at the end to kiss Buck to advance Buck's story.

So, it's a little hard for me to believe in this relationship when after three episodes they keep having Eddie involved and they keep him away from another storyline so he's not involved at all.

Right now, he feels more like another lover interest than a character outside of Buck. For me Buck still feels like he’s on a hamster wheel and fell in another relationship that they are rushing through.

I love Bi Buck, but he doesn’t have to be with someone to learn how to realize those new feelings.

Buddie is it for me. No one can recreate what they have and if they want to keep him with a bland new love interest, then that’s it for me.

#anti tommy #anti tommy kinard #anti bucktommy #911 discourse #911 #911 rants #i just needed to let this off my chest so you don't have to read it

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groovinrightalong · 8 months

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Do u have any trans masc Max Mayfield headcanons?

I haven’t thought much about it but now I have so MANY thoughts!

-Max hasn’t had a lot of positive relationships with the men in his life, so it takes a long while for the “hm I don’t feel quite right” to click. He doesn’t feel super comfortable as a girl, but he looks at his step-dad and Billy and is like “well I don’t want to be anything like that, so this has to be okay.”

-He definitely knows more about gender/sexuality stuff than the others because of growing up in California. So he’s thought a lot about it over the years, but just kept coming to the conclusion that he’s a tomboy (again, no positive relationships with men.)

-It’s actually because of Lucas (and the rest of the Party, by extension) that he really starts to get more comfortable with the idea. Because Lucas is sweet, and he’s gentle, and so unlike any of the other men he’s been around. Lucas is the first person that kind of cracks his view on gender roles and what exactly defines a man.

-He butts heads with Mike a lot at first just because of how insistent Mike is about him being a girl, how he’s different and unwelcome because of it, but (if this is also transmasc Mike) they realize they’re actually really similar and grow closer because of it, or (if this isn’t transmasc Mike) Max realizes that it isn’t the “girl” thing that bothers him, it’s the fear of replacing El.

-If it’s both transmasc Max and transmasc Mike, Mike comes out WAY earlier than he would’ve on his own.

-The boys are all really supportive when he comes out (which would probably be around the season 3 era). They don’t really get it at first, but he’s their friend, and they’ve always been very vocal about how they’d kill for a friend if needed. And really, seeing Max as a boy isn’t all that different from what they were doing already, so it’s an easy adjustment.

-In a similar fashion to Max teaching El about being a girl in the show, the guys take him out on a “boys only” night. It isn’t really any different than their usual hangouts- they go to the movies, play video games, eat way too much junk food, but the boys only title makes Max feel all fuzzy and warm inside.

-He comes out to Billy while he’s dying. He didn’t ever really plan on doing it at all, but his step-brother is dying in his arms and he needs to get it off his chest before it’s too late. Billy is a lot of the reason it took so long for him to feel comfortable as himself, and he thinks Billy knows that once it’s out in the air. Unfortunately, Billy’s dead before he can really give much of a reaction, just a weak little “I’m sorry.” And that’s nowhere near enough to make up for everything.

-He comes out to his family that night in a screaming match with his step-dad. Neil is an asshole about it, but it doesn’t really matter because the whole argument starts because he’s gonna leave them. Susan is incredibly supportive, and she turns around and kicks Neil out even though she’d been begging him to stay moments before. Gives Max one of those big, therapeutic hugs where Max just sobs into her shirt.

-Max cuts his hair off after Billy’s death. He’s never had a problem with his hair, he actually likes it long, but he’s messed up over everything that happened. He leans a lot more into the stereotypes he hated as a kid, acts rougher and more stand-offish. He breaks up with Lucas, stops hanging out with the rest of his friends. He feels awful, because this is the first time in his life that he’s only surrounded by people that support and love him, but he feels like he doesn’t deserve it.

-(Vecna has a field day with all that)

-Post canon, he does grow his hair back out again. Lucas dramatically informs him that men with long hair are hot (bi king), to which Max shoots back that that would mean Mike was hot. Lucas gives Mike a quick once over and is like I mean, yeah.

-Lucas likes to greet people and go hi, yes, this is my boyfriend Max. He’s so cool. He pretty much single-handedly saved Hawkins that one time. And Max stands there with his face bright red in his hands like oh my god shut up

-Lumax and Byler double dates with an obnoxious amount of homo, striking fear into the hearts of conservative smalltown Indiana

YES I love this sorry for making it angst near the end but yes yes transmasc Max I love him💞

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dent-de-leon · 5 months

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ive been following you for years now (since around when promare came out) and this whole time ive just assumed that mollymauk was the main character of critrole but i was talking to a sibling and they were like yeah hes only in 20eps. that cannot be true. i fully was like yeah mollymauks the main character they drive the plot right right?????

HELP THIS IS SO FUNNY ASKSLG---wait, let me explain--

In the year 2018, I started watching the Campaign 2 livestream from when the very first episode aired. I watched live right up until episode 25--26, the one where they lose Molly? That was the first episode I couldn't watch during the stream, and have never been able to bring myself to watch it since.

So 26 episodes doesn't sound like a whole lot. But each one is usually between four to four and a half hours long--there are even some that go up to six hours, and the longest one clocks in at just a little over seven hours. So you're talking about each episode being like four hours--and they were once a week every week. So by the time episode 26 rolled around, I had been getting super invested in this character over the course of several months. I just now checked a list of the runtime for episodes 1-26, so--if my math is right?? and that's a big if lmao--we're talking about a character that has over 100 and a half hours of screentime in the beginning, which is wild--

So yeah, in the grand scheme of things, it for sure doesn't seem like much. But given the nature of CR, it was definitely more than enough time for me to get attached--though honestly, Taliesin had me hooked on this tiefling from the very first episode, I didn't stand a chance. His whole personality and the little glimpses we got of his backstory just meant so much to me, and I adored that he was bi and genderfluid. He's the kind of character that really draws you into the world; I was so excited to see how he'd change over the course of the story, how his heartfelt relationships with all the other characters would unfold--

Molly's character arc isn't abandoned after 26 episodes either. In fact, he comes back as the final villain of the campaign over 100 episodes later. When the tiefling we know makes his reappearance as the major antagonist Lucien, the whole final arc of the campaign revolves around him and his past with the Mighty Nein. Very much a case of someone haunting the narrative. There's just something I love about how Molly is the one that first brings them all together, and then the entire finale of the campaign ended up leading right back to him and how much he meant to his family.

And then the arc ends with the party finally getting the chance to perform a ritual to resurrect him!! It was a very long wait, but the culmination of everything to do with Molly in the penultimate episode was definitely worth it. There's also all the secondary source materials that add to his character. He's got a prequel comic like the rest of the party. And he's the only one of all the Campaign 2 characters that gets a whole novel of "his" backstory, mainly focused on his life as Lucien. You can even buy a copy of Molly's tarot deck, which is such a fun piece of added lore and depth.

Anyway, I am so sorry I gave you the wrong idea about Molly asjslfjdfhf but he is absolutely the main character in my heart 💜 So much of his character is about how every little moment matters. And even if you don't get to have someone in your life for very long, that time you spent with them will always mean something. Acts of love and kindness are never a waste, even if it doesn't last. He's a character who was loved so much it made him whole, gave him a second chance he thought he'd never get. His story is very melancholy and tragic, but it's also just so bittersweet and cathartic and heartfelt. He is,, my blorbo--

#you: molly is the main character #me sobbing: correct :'))))#in my heart he definitely is 💜#asdkslfh thank you for this it made me laugh :)

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sanfangirl-cynicalromantic · 1 year

Text

The Lady Knight

HTTYD fandom, I am excited to announce my contribution to our fanfic archives! This is my first fic that I've ever posted, so comments and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Special thanks to @borrassofi, @bi-bi-want-dragon, @triumphantfury, and @macheriemila for all their support and inspiration and letting me tag them!

You can read my fic on AO3 here

Summary: Astrid Hofferson never cared about being a girl, much. But when she overhears her parents' discussion, she decides to become the son they don't have, and train as a knight. After all, how hard could it be? At Training she overcomes grueling exercises, carefully avoids suspicion, and grudgingly makes a friend - the Prince himself. But as she grows and matures, so do her feelings, both guilt and - something else.

She never wanted to be a boy, even though she had wished for it a few times. But a whimsical wish was quite different than devoting oneself to years of careful deception. She had been born into a long and proud lineage of Hoffersons, but this generation, there was no boy. No male to inherit the land and titles and follow in his father’s footsteps to become a legendary knight. To say that her father was disappointed was an understatement, but she took the fact she was female harder than the rest.

She supposed she could qualify as the tomboy of the family. All of the Hofferson girls were beautiful and strong. Their house was one of the most noble in the kingdom, and with only girls, more prone to kidnappings and ransoms; so her father had ensured that all of his daughters knew how to handle a sword when needed. But Astrid’s favorite weapon was her prize axe. She could ride straddle and sidesaddle, and her voice, while still feminine, was rougher than her sisters’.

She had never truly cared much about being a girl, except for the fact that boys got to wear more comfortable clothes and could go to war. She never understood a girl’s limitations until she listened to her father talking to Mother behind the door and realized that being a girl meant you could not inherit the estate, so when Father died, they would be homeless - and her father was nearly eight years older than Mother.

She was creeping down the corridor in her soft cotton nightgown to eavesdrop on her parents. Her fifteenth birthday was coming up soon, and she had caught Mother and Father speaking in hushed voices that would abruptly skid to a stop whenever she entered a room. She had made it a personal goal to find out her party plans or presents before she got them every year; her sisters and sometimes the servants were easy enough to pry the answers from, but it was her parents who she had never been able to best, and this year was her year.

The thick carpet muffled her careful steps and the aged wool scratched between her toes as she made her way to the flickering bar of light creeping out from under Father’s office door. Mother must be pacing inside. She slowly lowered her ear to the crack and closed her eyes to make out the voices better, for Father’s door was thick enough to obscure the words to any spy trying to gather important information. Astrid breathed evenly and ignored the rough pressure of the carpet against her cheek as she carefully tried to shift herself in a better angle. She prided herself on her stealth, knowing not to move too quickly or to try to run if she thought she was found out; those actions only created noise, but Valhalla help her if she was ever found in this embarrassing position!

“. . . what on Midgard are we going to do?” her mother’s voice filtered through - but with a shrill note of panic? Astrid frowned. Was Mother running out of ideas for her party? Surely she wasn’t so spoiled she wouldn’t understand if the celebrations weren't very extravagant? In fact, she was perfectly fine with it just being a quiet affair among the family. And she’d always thought the party ideas were Father’s.

“. . . no need to worry, my dear. I’m in great health; I’m not going anytime soon.” Father’s deep voice soothed Mother’s worry like a balm. What? Was Father not going to be there? He never missed any of his children’s celebrations! Except for that time a couple years back where he had to go help the King in the war, but while it wasn’t won it had calmed, and Berk was well on its way to winning - eventually. But that had nothing to do with his health. Were they even talking about her party?

“There’s no guarantee.” The click of Mother’s heeled shoes was replaced by a thunk and rustling of fabric as she presumably collapsed gracefully onto a chair. “And of course, in a few years we’ll have to find suitable husbands for our daughters while we still have the position to receive good offers-”

“Darling-”

“If only they could inherit! Or if Agor hadn’t-” her voice seemed to crumble at the mention of Astrid’s deceased brother’s name and even the light through the door crack seemed to dim in remembrance. He had passed away when she was very young, so she did not remember him, but he had been the closest to her age and the darling of her parents.

Her mother’s shadow grew bigger as Father joined her on the chair. Astrid could no longer hear what he was saying as he comforted his beloved wife. There was no need to; they clearly weren’t talking about her birthday party. She began to carefully raise herself to make her way back down the hall.

Laying in her soft bed, it was then that she cursed her gender; she hadn’t cared much about it before as she still learned to fight and read and figure like any boy. She enjoyed soft dresses and while her etiquette lessons were boring, she was good at them and had to admit she looked much more graceful from them. But now she wished she could have been a boy. She knew that she could take over her father’s lands easily. She was smart, decisive and strong. If she had been a boy she would have been perfect. But no one other than her servants and family took her orders and ideas seriously. If only she was Agor.

She was the second born of the Hofferson ladies. Her older sister, Astoria, was better accustomed to being a lady than she was; if one compared poise or smiles, they were the same, but her sister had a comfortable ease that Astrid did not possess, but maybe it was just because she was the eldest. She steeled herself and resolutely married into a good family to help the rest of her younger sisters. Astrid was more impressed at her sister’s bravery than she wanted to admit, as it forced her to recognize that she was selfish enough to have not done the same. So, she decided as the next oldest to become the son her father had always wished for, and become a knight. What could go wrong?

A few months after Astoria’s wedding she approached her parents with her brilliant idea. It did not go as well as she hoped. Her mother’s voice reached an ungodly pitch of indignation and disbelief, and her father looked terribly affronted, as if her suggestion had somehow invalidated all of their hard work, but Astrid was nothing if not tenacious and her father rued the day he enrolled her with the debate tutors. She argued that she was the least social of Lord Hofferson’s daughters, so she would raise the least suspicion. Plus, she was the closest in age to the deceased brother she was pretending to be, she continued as she elaborated upon her plan. She was already more skilled at fighting than most other noble boys her age - fifteen - and was confident enough to finally convince a gruff father to give her his honor and her mother to offer to cut her hair. She would be shipped off to training and become a squire that very week, as the annual training that was mandatory for all young aspiring knights was about to begin. The normal practice of squires assisting a knight until they turned eighteen had been done away after none of the said squires were able to pass the test to become a fully fledged knight, and now all squires would be trained together by the same instructor. Father had been very pleased with this announcement when it first came out, but now his enthusiasm for the program had been significantly dimmed.

Her story was that she (meaning Astrid) had a secret twin, Astor. Astor had always been sickly, and after the terrible death of their older brother Agor, Astor had been kept secret from society, as Mother would not be able to bear society’s pity if she lost her other son. She thought the entire idea rather brilliant, and Father sighed and began to mention this secret son of his who had miraculously recovered enough to go to training to anyone whenever business took him outside his castle. A new hair of Mother’s bleached wheat locks shimmered into silver with every passing day, but ultimately Astrid was sure Mother would see that Astrid was doing the best she could for her family. She was sacrificing her whole identity in an effort to create another one to better protect her family. No, it wasn’t marrying a well off lord, but Astrid could only do so much.

.oOo.

The first day of training was terrifying. She had never been so surrounded by warriors, and it thrilled her. All the noble’s sons were staying in the Great Hall, the ancient courtroom Kings used to sit in. Now, the old throne room was a banquet hall, the biggest guest rooms had been converted to classrooms; the smaller ones into separate rooms for noblemen who could afford to pay for their son’s privacy. Father had indulged her and rented one of those rooms so as to not compromise her identity. For if she was ever found out, her virtue and her sister’s by default would be put in terrible jeopardy.

She jumped at anything closer to her than three feet. She was pretty, she knew, what if her face wasn’t masculine enough? She didn’t talk, she was too afraid she wouldn’t sound right. Who on Midgard had said this would be a good idea? Father had left immediately after seeing her trunks deposited in her room, as he did not wish to make it seem he coddled her; fitting in would be hard enough as it was, but now she thought she would have given anything to have him take her back home. She barely slept, certain someone was going to burst through the door and expose her. She nearly cried, something she hadn’t done since she was ten. But if she didn’t cry as a girl, she wouldn’t cry as a boy.

Dawn came with an unbearable clanging. She groaned loudly and sat up as something metal hammered against her door.

“Rise an’ shine, lad!” called a cheerful Scottish voice through the door. Gobber, the retired knight with a peg leg and interchangeable hands. She had been introduced to him the night before, and he’d informed her he’d be in charge of the physical training. She recalled his accent being heavier and more slurred, due to the keg of beer attached to his left stump. How was he so clear headed so early in the morning after that? She emerged from her room a few minutes later, tunic rumpled, short hair mussed, glaring through tired eyes above dark circles. Gobber beamed good-naturedly.

“‘Attaboy,” he grinned. He clapped her on the back, hard, and Astrid stumbled forward a step.

Apparently, Gobber believed that waking up at dawn to learn how to manage heavy wooden practice swords before breakfast was the way to go. “If ye ever haf tuh fight fer yer life, ar’ they gon’ wait til ye finish yer beauty sleep?” He mocked the tired teenagers.

“My manly beauty would be too great for them to handle,” a short, stocky teenager boasted. He wobbled and barely managed to hold his position. The wooden sword shook. “Can’t we have had breakfast, at least?” he whined. Astrid, who had been staring stoically ahead, cast a glance at him. Square face, choppy black hair, whiny, privileged voice; Jorgenson, the Duke’s son.

After a week, Astrid was used to getting up before dawn. After a month, she was waiting outside for Gobber to come get her. He gave her an approving smile and that day he announced that everyone would have to meet him in the Armory on their own, and if anyone was late it would be noted. A chorus of groans followed this declaration, and Astrid resolved to be the first one there every morning.

The Armory was a large room off the side of the Great Hall, and led into the training Arena. The stone walls were rough with hooks and weapons, but the far wall was painted in tar and had a stand for chalk on it. At first Astrid hated how confined the room was, with dangerously sharp or dull weapons crowding everyone (although it did ensure no one cheated and leaned on the walls to catch their breath) and a dozen grumpy boys sweating and stinking up the place. As the days became colder, she was relieved they didn’t have to train outside, but was careful not to show it. If Gobber suspected they were grateful for the Armory, she was sure he’d drag them outside.

There weren’t too many noble boys her age but she managed to play arrogant and aloof well, so no one got close to her and found out her secret. She didn’t want to be friends with the boys, anyway. Did they not take their duty of bringing honor to their families? Her father received letters of glowing praise about his ‘son’ as she quickly rose to the top of the class, being the best at hand-to-hand combat, sword fighting, tracking, climbing, everything - well, except riding. That was the only class she was second best in, and it irritated her more than she wanted to confess.

Trying to be a teenage boy was harder than she thought. She had never thought of herself as dainty before, but almost all the boys were tight knit, clapping each other’s backs, roaring loudly with laughter, having food fights, and public baths. She shuddered at the thought. She bathed herself after everyone had gone, and the water was always freezing. She couldn’t wait until she could return home on her yearly visit and soak in a nice, hot, private bath for hours and wear silk robes under no constant fear of what would happen if they found she was a girl - well, young woman.

She had never been very attracted to boys in a romantic sense; she had always been too busy planning and working and practicing, but she feared she would never get married after living with a bunch of male adolescents. They were gross and hairy and sweaty and smelly and vomited after they drank too much. Occasionally one would make a disgusting comment about a lady servant and it was all she could do not to beat them senseless right then and there. The only boy she found herself mildly interested in was a quiet, skinny boy her age.

Everyone in training went by their surnames. She had become Hofferson, the prodigal son. Jorgenson had learned that he only went by ‘Hofferson’ the hard way: she had beat him when he tried to clap her on the back and called her ‘Hoff.’ For some reason, though, this other boy only went by ‘Hiccup.’

She hadn’t even noticed Hiccup in the beginning. At first she had been shocked - was there a noble family by the surname of Hiccup? Then she figured it must be a nickname, as Jorgenson had called him ‘Hiccup’ first. Perhaps he wanted someone with a name just as awful as his (with a name like Snotlout, she could hardly blame him).

Hiccup was scrawny and weak. He could barely hold a sword, much less swing an axe or a mace- which they were going to learn how to use in a few months. Astrid secretly crept out of her rooms every other night with her new axe, made heavier and more masculine looking, to practice. She was frustrated she didn’t see him at night either. She even went every night for a while to see if perhaps they were just missing each other, but no. He didn’t even try to get any extra practice. She didn’t know why the fact irritated her, why she wanted to see him try. It was just because he was exactly what she had been afraid of becoming, she told herself.

Despite his abysmal performance with weapons of any sort, Hiccup made up for it with other things. He was the best rider, and she hated that he just had a natural instinct with the beasts. He was . . . different from everyone else. They made fun of him because of his size, but she noticed that he was quick witted and diplomatic despite being shy. They had vied for the top spot in History and Strategic classes more than once. She knew it wasn’t wise, but she was drawn to him, and knew he was too afraid of her to dare pry or try to make conversation. She knew he was smart, and would have to be on her guard in front of him so he didn’t figure out her secret. Because if anyone was smart enough to find out, it was him. Still, she found herself sitting next to him during Strategy, or standing next to him before they rode their horses.

Winter was reaching its end, and the white, regal snow had turned to muddy slush that was somehow colder and infinitely wetter. Gobber, the wonderful, considerate instructor he was, had them training in the Arena now. Keeping one’s balance was even harder in the slippery sludge, and they were still practicing with wooden weapons, but they had moved on from swords. They were to learn how to handle every weapon, and by the end of the year, they’d be allowed to choose one or two weapons to continue in. Astrid already knew she’d choose her axe, but was enjoying learning to handle all the other weapons as well.

Hiccup was dismally trying to handle a mace. No one really liked the weapon except Thorston, who had declared his weapon’s name ‘Macey.’ Astrid was the nearest to him, executing the eight positions and enjoying the swish of wind the heavy wind made as it swung through the air. He fell, some of the slush splattering on her face. She sputtered, then rounded on him with a glower.

“Watch it!” she growled. Hiccup scrambled up, apologizing profusely. Astrid rolled her eyes.

“What are you even doing with that thing?” she asked sharply. “It’s just like a club, use the momentum and the same eight points of fighting we already know. Did your father teach you nothing?”

Hiccup scowled fiercely at her and picked up his too-heavy mace, gritting his teeth. She frowned. She must have said something wrong. Did he get sullen after she corrected him? Maybe he was just a spoiled noble boy, but no, that didn’t fit him. She resolved to keep an eye on him. She normally didn’t bother apologizing if she accidentally offended someone who wasn’t an instructor, but she felt like maybe this boy could use one.

After the session had finished, she hung up her practice weapon next to him. They were both the shortest of the class, and she had to stretch a little to reach the hook for her wooden mace. Her arms protested but she paid no mind to the ache. She was used to it after five months. Hiccup attempted to do the same, but his footing wasn’t stable and he stumbled, off balance, into the entire wall of practice weapons, the haphazard tumble of metal and wood ringing throughout the stone Armory as they jumped out of the way. Gobber whirled around and groaned in exasperation.

“Hiccup! What’re ye-”

“It was my fault, Sir,” Astrid interrupted quickly. Everyone’s eyes swung to her incredulously. “I lost my balance and knocked into him.” Hiccup blinked his eyes like an idiot. She shot him a look. Play along, it ordered. He blinked again before he caught on and then quickly nodded. Gobber raised one side of his dirty, blonde unibrow.

“Well, Hofferson, seeing as you are so keen to share Hiccup’s punishment, fifteen laps around the Arena. You’ll miss dinner but get a slice of bread before bed.” Astrid nodded stoutly, her stomach tightening in protest. Would word of this reach her parents? Hiccup shot her a glance; he thought she was crazy. That was fine. She thought she might be crazy too. She followed him out the Armory door back into the cold, keeping pace with him as he jogged painfully and slowly around. Her legs and arms were numb and her cheeks chapped red when they finally finished and headed toward the kitchens. Gobber eyed them and handed them a slice of bread each with a slab of butter. They accepted them gratefully and sat by a bench near a stove.

Hiccup frowned at her contemplatively. She didn’t meet his eye as she took a hefty bite of the bread, sighing in relief. He took a shaky breath.

“Thanks for that,” he said quietly. “It did absolutely nothing, taking the blame, but thanks anyway.” A cross between a grimace and a smile crossed her face.

“Don’t mention it,” she replied. She met his gaze and he gave her a small, grateful smile.

After that they kept each other company more often than not. They didn’t speak often; she wasn’t inclined to talk much, always wary of her voice, and he didn’t try to pull her into conversation, which she was thankful for. But there was something - comradery, maybe - that was developing as they worked side by side in silence. She wouldn’t say they were friends; it wouldn’t be wise to get close to him. To get close to anyone. You couldn’t make friends if you were keeping things from them, but they cold be friendly, she reasoned with herself.

What she hadn’t known was that he was also keeping things from her.

Training drew to a close. She grew more adept at faking her voice cracking. She learned to laugh in a way that would have made Mother faint. She still refused the alcohol other boys tried to sneak into their barracks, but had figured out plausible excuses. Then the yearly visit to their families came round, and their parents came to collect them. Astrid was curious to see who her ‘friend’s’ parents were. He seemed more nervous and fidgety than normal whenever she mentioned parents. She had guessed he probably didn’t get on too well with them. That was understandable. Her own relationship with her parents had been strained at best throughout the year, as they made it clear they were uneasy with her choice, and Astrid being the stubborn lass she was, never shared her hardships she had to conquer with them, or mentioned how much she dearly missed the rest of her sisters, or the nights she wondered if maybe being a wife was really so awful; surely it wasn’t so bad as her day had been. She’d share only her triumphs with them until they admired the choice she had made.

But despite all this, Astrid was excited to see her parents again. She had never been so close with them before, her interactions and love for them more dutiful than anything, but in her absence, she had received a letter every week and she couldn’t wait to reunite with them again and spend a month in silk gowns and practicing her poise. She would have never thought she would be so excited to be a girl.

The promise of going home soon made her more talkative than usual. Gobber seemed to be glad too, and gave them more time off of practicing weapons handling. After over ten months of handling them, he told them, there wasn’t as much need to practice. Astrid disagreed; she was of the opinion Gobber was tired of stupid boys and desperate for a drink, but she was grateful for the extra time all the same. The days were hot, and most of the boys went swimming, but she couldn’t join them, careful of her female body underneath her boyish clothes. She had stopped wearing long sleeves under her tunic and wrapped her forearms, admiring the toned muscles in her upper arms.

Hiccup still wore long sleeves and didn’t go swimming with the other boys either, so they had sort of mutually agreed to ride together during their free time. She found him in the stables, stroking his black stallion’s glossy coat. “He’s beautiful,” she greeted them, nodding at the horse.

Hiccup acknowledged her with a nod. He patted his horse again - Toothless - before leading him out of his stall. She crossed over to Stormfly, her horse, and led her gently out of her stall so she could begin brushing.

“Toothless?” she had asked incredulously when he had introduced her to his horse.

“Yep,” Hiccup replied, popping the ‘p.’

“Toothless,” she repeated, gesturing at the stallion who was contentedly eating the apple HIccup had just given him - with all his teeth.

“So he won’t bite me,” Hiccup said dryly. Astrid couldn’t tell if he was serious or not.

“I trained him myself,” Hiccup broke the silence as they began to saddle the animals. She peeked at him from the corner of her eye; she hadn't expected him to elaborate further.

“Where’d you find him?” she asked as she finished brushing out Stormfly’s coat. “I’ve never seen a stallion this fine.”

“He was wild,” Hiccup told her proudly. “We stumbled across each other one day. I was fascinated. He didn’t trust me at first, but I visited him everyday - and, more importantly, brought him snacks.” They snickered and Astrid could’ve sworn the horse rolled its eyes. “Eventually, we became friends, and . . . then I got on his back for the first time.”

“What was it like?” Astrid asked, entranced. She’d never heard Hiccup talk this long, and never so passionately. She realized she had stopped working to look at him, and hastily grabbed her saddle, fastening the straps securely, testing to make sure they were tight enough, but not uncomfortable for her beloved mare.

“He threw me off the first few times,” Hiccup admitted with a small laugh. “But after that . . . it’s like flying.”

“I know the feeling,” Astrid told him quietly. Their gaze caught, the boy’s bright eyes looking at her in understanding and - she felt a weird warm feeling settle in her chest. The hot summer air suddenly made itself known in her flushed cheeks. Had it been this warm a minute ago?

“That sounds amazing,” she said abruptly, wanting to change the subject. “I bet if he hadn’t been wild he would have been fit for royalty,” she joked, part serious. For some reason, Hiccup’s smile seemed to fade at that.

“Haha, yeah. Well, guess it was a good thing he was wild, right,” he scratched the back of his head with a strained smile. Astrid mentally berated herself. She had done something wrong, but she had no idea what.

“My girl’s pretty fast, too,” she challenged him, hoping to lighten the mood again. “Want to race?” She finished with Stormfly’s bridle and swung up easily into the saddle. That brought Hiccup’s smile back.

“Sure,” he agreed enthusiastically. He pulled himself into the saddle with enviable grace and winked at her, before breaking into a lighting-fast gallop. Astrid blamed the foreign fluttery feeling that arose on the thrill of a challenging race as she grinned and followed him.

.oOo.

The day to leave arrived, and she met her parents by the entrance with her luggage. For a second they said nothing, taking in the other’s appearance with wide eyes. Had her father’s hair always had so much gray? She had grown taller, and it was strange for her gaze to settle above her mother’s eyes. She set the luggage down and they embraced.

She pushed down the sudden tears that threatened and tried her best to keep her personality as ‘Hofferson’ rather than reverting to ‘Astrid’. Time for that later. Her parents chatted amiably with Gobber, the Head trainer, who was ranting about Astrid’ spectacular prowess, and Astrid excused herself to say goodbye to Hiccup. She hadn’t seen him at all that day, which was strange, because she was sure she knew all the spaces he retreated to. Where was he? Did he think they were going to leave before saying goodbye? Why did the thought of that make her feel upset?

She found him surrounded by guards trying to take his baggage for him despite his protests. She frowned as she recognized the livery colors; black and red. And the royal Haddock crest.

“There you are, your Highness,” one of the guards said cheerfully as he secured the last trunk to the back of the carriage and held the door open for Hic - no, Prince Henry. Because of course Astrid was so focussed on maintaining her identity that she forgot the Crown Prince was her age and named Henry. Prince Henry, with the extraordinary green eyes. The Prince who had managed to tame a wild horse. The Prince who looked almost entirely like his slim mother, not the broad king. Her mouth dropped open as everything clicked into place with a rush of confusion, disbelief, and anger. The prince turned to catch sight of her and paled.

“Hofferson-”

Astrid spun on her heel and rushed to her parents, suddenly anxious to be home.

Two months was too long to think, Astrid decided. She would come to a conclusion after hours of pondering in her delightfully hot bath (she had had one every day since she arrived home) but would change her mind in the next one. And she was furious; now she couldn’t even enjoy her hot baths, and it was entirely his fault.

She knew she was being unfair; how could she be mad at him for not mentioning he was the Crown Prince? It wasn’t like they were friends or anything, and he didn’t even know she wasn’t a boy. So why did a part of her feel betrayed?

Her options were to deem he was untrustworthy and avoid him, or to confront him about his identity. But he was the Prince; she shouldn't ostracize her future king. But then, none of the other boys in training seemed to have much respect for him. Did they not know who he was either? Why would he not tell anyone? Why hadn’t she ever realized? She was confused and her head was messed up, so after a delightful week of relaxing and regaling tales to her younger sisters, her father had her continue to train to stay in shape and she resumed lady etiquette lessons, trying to learn as much as possible in two months; after all, who knew how long she would stay a squire? Being so busy helped keep her mind off other things, and she decided to forget about Hic - Prince Henry and concentrate on her family. She would deal with him when they saw each other again.

She would never admit it, but he occupied her thoughts far too often. It was because she had nothing better to focus on while at Training, and boring poise made her mind wander. She didn't really find him that interesting.

When she arrived back Gobber allowed one day to settle back in before they went straight into classes. Most people were rusty after a month of lazing about and she silently thanked her father for keeping her in shape. She spied Hic - PrinceHenry making his way over to her a few times, but she always turned around and headed in the opposite direction to avoid him. She wore a fierce scowl, and the boys who had gotten a little more friendly before she left wisely gave her space.

She hadn’t reached a conclusion about what to do with Hiccup - with The Prince, but she couldn’t let him be the one to confront her. No. That would be cowardly, which was something she refused to be. So, one day after breakfast when they were on their way to another Training session, she walked up behind and punched him. Hard.

Hiccup yelped and jumped to face her, clutching his shoulder. “Wha-? What wa-”

“That’s for lying,” she said sternly as an explanation. He shook his head disbelievingly and glared right back at her, but their sort-of friendship was now closer to a real one. No, they were friends, she realized with a shock. Hiccup was her friend. She hadn't meant for it to happen, but she had a friend now. And her friend should be able to defend himself, she resolved.

She had been back in Training three weeks so far. She was top of the class like last year, but this year she had a different focus than doing well in class. She was looking for Hiccup. Everyone had gone to sleep, even the servants were gone and the kitchens dark and empty. She doubted Hiccup was situated in the barracks with the other boys, since Jorgenson - or Snotlout, as the boy had smarmily insisted - had his own room, surely the Prince would? She crept quietly down the dark corridor, listening through the doors. The door closest to her had no sounds or light coming from it. She knelt down to the door crack to examine further, but had to plug her nose to hold back the sneeze from all that dust. She doubted anyone slept in there.

She turned the corner of the corridor - the corridors were rather small, honestly. Father had at least five sets of rooms per corridor at home, but this was an old building. The next door she listened had a heavy snoring, an awful mix of snorting, choking, and grunting noises. She hoped that wasn’t Hiccup. A small boy like him wouldn’t make sounds like that, would he? Her fingers lightly traced the wood along the door. Ah. Someone had hung an elaborate carved ‘S’ on the door. It was Snotlout’s room.

She noticed a flicker of light down the corridor, and made her way over to the last door at the end of the hall. A slight glow could be seen if she crouched down and peered under the door, like there was a candle in the next room. She studied the dark wood for a minute. Did the Prince have a set of rooms? She tried the handle. It jangled softly. She let out a huff and cast a look around the shadowy corridor in hopes of finding something to help her. Snotlout’s snores were loud, would he wake up if she knocked on Hiccup’s door? What if Hiccup didn’t hear? She knocked firmly on the door and held her breath to listen. Snotlout’s noise didn’t stutter, but she thought she could make out a shift of a body on sheets.

She knocked again. Then again. She pressed her door against the door and heard a sigh accompanied by a thump. She debated knocking as the flicker of light under the door grew brighter. A key clinked and the door opened a crack. She quickly took a step back.

Hiccup, his brown-red hair longish and a bit tangled, peered out through a crack, a candle’s light illuminating his head’s silhouette.

“Hey,” whispered Astrid. He gave a terrified squeak and jumped back behind the door, another thump sounding and a muffled “ouch.” She pressed her lips together to keep from snorting. He must have tripped.

“You alright?” She asked, not bothering to hide her amusement. She pushed open the door and stepped inside. Yep, the Prince had a set of two rooms. The one they were standing in - well, one standing, the other scrambling to get up - was small, with a tapestry hanging on the wall across the doorway where Astrid guessed his bed and wardrobe lay. There were two comfortable chairs and a desk in this room. The desk was covered in parchment of different sizes and quality and various amounts of ink. She turned her attention away from them despite her curiosity. She had a point being here.

“Hofferson,” Hiccup laughed nervously. “What are- uh, what are you . . . doing here?”

“You weren’t sleeping anyway,” she began. Hiccup looked confused.

“How’d you know I wasn’t sleeping?” Astrid’s eyes widened.

“What? I - no, I didn’t know you weren’t sleeping until I came here and saw the light! But it’s good you’re not sleeping. This would be harder if you were tired.”

“What are we doing?” Hiccup asked. Get to the point, Astrid, she told herself. Quit messing around.

“Since you can’t sleep anyway, why don’t you train,” Astrid suggested. He stared at her, nonplussed.

“Yeah, okay, maybe this is just a crazy dream.” He turned towards the doorway, scratching his head. She scowled, and pinched his arm.

“Ow!” he recoiled. “Okay, not asleep. Unfortunately,” he muttered. Astrid raised her eyebrows at him and he rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m not good at Training, or anything fighting at all,” he explained patiently.

“Exactly,” Astrid responded with equal patience. “That’s why you would practice, so you’d get better.” Hiccup sighed dramatically.

“C’mon, how’d you think I got so good at fighting?” She prompted.

“I dunno, you were born perfect?” Astrid fought the urge to tuck her hair behind her ear.

“No,” she smirked. “I snuck out every other night to practice.” She saw his jaw drop out of the corner of her eye, impressed. “And that’s what you’re going to do, now.”

“Who says it’ll even work,” he argued, although she didn’t sound as discouraged as he had a moment ago.

“It’ll be worth it,” she promised. “We’ll start with the basics.”

She had noticed during their training that Hiccup struggled with the basic eight positions, causing him to hesitate and lose momentum and focus.

“Did . . . did your father never teach you this?” she asked quietly after Hiccup flung down his sword upon the Armoury floor in despair for the second time.

“The King is a busy man,” he responded bitterly, “and it’s not like I’m built for fighting anyway.”

“I’m built the same way and I do fine,” Astrid argued, gesturing at her own slim figure. Liar. There were things growing on her in places that were becoming harder to conceal that boys didn’t have, but that was irrelevant. “Now pick up your sword, Your Highness.”

Hiccup scowled and picked up the sword. “No need to call me that,” he said, and struck at her instead of getting back into position two. Astrid’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but she blocked his strike easily. He really didn’t like his honorifics.

“Watch your footwork, Your Highness,” Astrid continued, curious as to how he’d react. He adjusted his stance.

“You know,” he said thoughtfully, “I should get to call you something too.”

“Call me what?”

“Something that annoys you . . . like, Hoffy.”

Astrid stopped still. “Hoffy?”

He snickered. “Hoffy it is.”

“Alright, Haddock, I shan’t call you your highness any longer.”

“But I still get to call you Hoffy?”

“No.” She went on the attack, and swiftly disarmed him. His mouth twisted into a displeased grimace.

“Tell you what,” she amended, “If you train with me every day, and every other night, you get to call me Hoffy once a day. And if you miss a day of training, that privilege is revoked, so use each time wisely.” Hiccup sighed dramatically.

“You drive a hard bargain, sir,” he said gravely, “But I accept your terms.” He held out his hand in an over-formal manner. She took it and they shook with straight faces before collapsing into laughter.

Astrid wasn’t the only one to rope her friend into her schemes. It turned out Hiccup enjoyed spending time at the smithy to the point where the blacksmith grudgingly accepted him as his sort-of apprentice. Astrid knew how to sharpen her ax or sword, but enjoyed hearing Hiccup explaining the finer art of smithing. He had his own little back room full of scrap metal and hasty diagrams. It was cramped and humid, and quickly became one of Astrid’ favorite places.

He had many ideas and contraptions he wanted to try out, most of which were unsuccessful, but she cheered her friend on despite the disasters and took to creating elaborate alibis to cover him so they wouldn’t get caught. Later, after narrowly escaping the ire of Gobber or Mildew the head servant or whatever poor soul had been affected, they laughed off their ridiculous cover stories, each one more impossible than the last.

They couldn’t always avoid getting into trouble though. Hiccup’s latest contraption, the Mangler, he called it, had been brought outside for testing. Hiccup wanted to see if it could take down the miniature catapult they had built. If the endeavor was successful, he explained, their army could use it to take out the enemy’s long range missiles. But the testing process was dangerous.

Astrid stood beside him, excitedly watching as he readied the launcher, checked the calibration, and enthused about everyone’s future reactions; he was sure this contraption would work, and they would be hailed geniuses. Personally, Astrid wasn’t so sure. They had never been this naughty before, but she relished it, and figured it would make her posing as a boy more believable; boys did do stupid, dangerous things after all.

“Ready?” he called out.

“Ready,” she confirmed. He bent over the Mangler and took careful aim. He took a breath once, twice. Then on the third exhale he pulled the trigger and the enormous weighted net-slash-bola went flying. She straightened up with a whoop as they watched it soar and plummet.

“Oh no,” cried Hiccup, panicked. She whipped her head toward him in alarm.

“What?”

“I, uh . . . The angle isn’t right; I overshot.”

“What? You’re kidding.”

“It’s heading toward the calves.”

She let out a healthy curse and grabbed him, running toward the calves and hollering. The calves scattered at the net came crashing down, wrapping around the fence posts and toppling them with its heavy iron weights. The cows and teenagers stood stock still for a moment, then the animals stampeded over the splintered fence.

"Well . . . I mean, at least it works."

"We're going to be in so much trouble if someone finds this mess."

Gobber discovered them desperately trying to clear the scene of the Mangler’s evidence, and they were given menial duties and extra exercises for two weeks. It was worth it.

.oOo.

After Snoggletog, Astrid came to a realization. Hiccup was growing.

First he shot upwards, and the developing muscles he was gaining were hard to recognize, as he still looked the same. But then, as they were sparring hand-to-hand one night, she became aware of the fact that he was taller than she remembered, and when he knocked her over, the weight of his body on hers was . . . heavier. And that was all she noticed when she was in that position. She still managed to throw him off and pin him down, but her victories were steadily becoming harder to reach, and their fights were lasting longer.

Hiccup went from being the shortest of the squires in Training to being the tallest. Thankfully, Astrid wasn’t too far behind in terms of height. The roundness of his face dropped off to reveal a razor sharp jaw and pronounced cheekbones. He was still lean, but you could tell he had muscles and shoulders underneath the fabric of his tunics. His pants got tighter (though Astrid would never acknowledge noticing the fact), and with the development of his body the Prince was suddenly more enthusiastic about swimming or sparring with his shirt off. He now looked like a young man, and the only one who called him ‘boy’ was Gobber, and that was just in jest. He was attractive, too, and even the boys who had made fun of him last year were a lot more interested in being friendly with him.

Unfortunately, Astrid was much less happy about her own body’s growth. She was relieved to find she had inherited Father’s height. She was the third tallest among her peers; the only two taller than her were Hiccup and Ingerman. She was not as pleased to discover the growth of her womanly curves, which she had undoubtedly inherited from her mother. She couldn’t allow herself to wear short tunics or too-tight pants (like Hiccup), or her decidedly not masculine hips might be noticed. She had to wrap her chest securely and wore layers to conceal the shapes, but it meant she was often hot. And she couldn’t utilize the baths nearly as often as she’d like. Although she had never put much stock on being pretty, she had always appreciated her fine features. But she had to be careful with how she did her hair and what length she allowed it to grow to. Mother had facial paints to enhance contours and such; Astrid would have to learn how to use them when she returned for the summer.

When summer rolled around and Astrid returned to her family, she found herself writing letters more often to Hiccup than she did to her parents over the entire year. She was the only one who called him Hiccup now. The other boys had taken to calling him ‘Haddock’ when they addressed him - except Snotlout who thought he was entitled to call his second cousin ‘Henry.’

“Why would you like to be called Hiccup if it is the nickname they used to make fun of you?” she had asked him.

“You never called me Hiccup to mock me,” he told her sincerely. His smile turned roguish. “You honestly thought that was my name; you couldn’t recognize your future king.”

She rolled her eyes in chagrin while he laughed. “I was busy with other things!” she defended herself. “And I’m not the only one who can be blind; I bet you couldn’t even recognize a girl if she was under your nose.”

He walked over to her to enhance the height difference between them, looking down at her over his nose. Astrid tamped down the hysterical laugh building in her throat. If only he knew.

“I don’t see you with many girls,” he challenged.

“I don’t bother myself with the ones here; but back at my estate, I’m surrounded by them every day,” she boasted, trying to remember Snotlout’s demeanor when regaling his exploits. What she was saying was true, just not in the way she was portraying it.

“Yes, well, girls have never been interested in me for anything but my position,” he said scathingly. “And I don’t care for simpering maids.”

She had no idea why his answer made her smile.

Back at home, Mother instructed her in the art of makeup, and Astrid practiced diligently until she was satisfied with the almost male face looking back at her in the mirror. She continued her weapons practice in her free time, but Mother insisted on dragging her out to garden parties along with her two unmarried sisters to remind the world that Astrid Hofferson still existed. A wig had been crafted for her to wear over her short hair, and the seamstress had to redo all the sleeves on her dresses, muttering about unladylike muscles. But her parents were pleased to find that Astrid could still conduct herself perfectly among ladies, even if she was a little behind on the latest gossip and scandals. Her curves and pretty features finally came in handy again, and Astrid couldn’t deny the thrill of wearing nice dresses instead of durable tunics, but she quickly grew to miss the freedom of fighting and running off with her friend. She barely knew no one at these parties; they couldn’t risk any of Astrid’s peers recognizing her and blowing her cover, but she felt lonely and out of place.

It was a relief to finally be back in Training. This year, their curriculum would be different; they were old enough to help out in the war - no actual fighting, but helping keep the camp guarded and the odd job that no one had done. Their fighting techniques were good, what they needed now was experience, Gobber had told them when he received his instructions to bring them there. And what better place to gain such experience than the battlefield where everything they had trained for was happening first hand?

They weren’t allowed to participate in the fighting. They were situated right behind the front lines, on recently conquered land. Injured men were carried on stretchers to the healer’s tent. One of the healers showed them how to bandage and clean a wound. Astrid was a lot better at wrapping than the others, what with her secret monthly bloods and chest bindings.

After they’d been on the battlefield for a week they watched a soldier die. His comrades carried him in, his left arm a stump and his abdomen caked in blood. They watched as his groans faded and the nurses tried to staunch his bleeding, one of his companions sobbing at his bedside. Astrid felt a sense of purpose as she observed the scene; this was what she was fighting for. This was what she was preparing to do for her family. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Hiccup quickly exiting the tent and followed him.

He was bent over, heaving. Once he was finished, she knelt beside him, careful to avoid the watery vomit. He didn’t acknowledge her, just closed his eyes and panted. She didn’t say anything, waiting for him to break the silence.

“He- he died,” Hiccup said at last, stunned. “He’s dead.”

“He is.”

He turned pleading eyes to his friend. “But what if - what if there could have been another way? What if he didn’t have to die? Can’t there be another option?”

“People die every day,” she replied carefully. “Maybe, in another world, he would have died today anyway, despite not fighting in a war. Maybe he wouldn’t have. But that man who died today, died for a cause. He fought for something until his last breath; isn’t that the best way to die?”

Hiccup said nothing and raked his hands through his hair.

“You’re going to be King someday,” Astrid continued. She wasn’t sure now was the time for him to hear this, but she wanted to explain her conviction to him, wanted him to understand. “You’re going to be forced to make decisions that get people killed.” Hiccup squeezed his eyes shut. “What's important is that you won’t let those decisions be in vain.”

But despite some of the sobering instances, everything was exciting. Even the tedious waiting behind the lines, doing the dirty jobs the fighters would order them to do and sneaking off to watch the seasoned warriors drink around the campfires and sing songs that made Astrid’s cheeks burn. They had never been to a battlefield before. The cold was biting, the soldiers grim, the landscape gray, and yet, to naive, blood-thirsty teenagers, everything seemed worthy of an epic ballad.

The battle moved further North, yet the knights-in-training stayed, so Astrid and the prince snuck out to practice sparring on an actual battlefield.

“We haven’t picked up a sword to use it in ages,” she coaxed. “Besides, we don’t want you getting rusty and back to fighting like last year.”

“Ha, ha,” Hiccup said dryly. “I won’t deteriorate that far. I almost beat you last time, remember?”

“Key word being ‘almost’,” Astrid taunted.

Hiccup checked his sword in his scabbard; it was perfectly polished and sharpened. “I’ll beat you one day, Hofferson, just you wait,” he promised.

Their sparring location had been conquered easily and the bodies had been cleaned up and buried or burned for a while, but the echoes of the swords clashing brought to life the recent ghosts of the battle that had just taken place. Before they had taken more than two steps, Astrid struck. Hiccup met her blade with his own with ease as they retreated and met again.

She lost herself in her battle cries and the ringing of the blades. She hit and rolled and twisted and jumped and flicked her blade, but Hiccup’s defense was nigh impenetrable. He struck at her legs and she danced out of the way, unable to get close enough to him to land a blow. Their dirks met again, the hilts so close together their hands were almost touching.

“Call it a draw,” Astrid suggested through a strained grin. Hiccup’s height and weight were an advantage when it was strength against strength.

“Not on your life,” he teased, out of breath, “I got you right where- oh!”

Astrid caught a flash of movement in the darkness off to the side. Without thinking, she leapt forward to knock Hiccup out of the way, taking him by surprise. She gritted her teeth against the sudden slice of fire along her right shoulder.

Henry swiftly rolled on top of her and rose to meet their attacker, gripping the hilt of his sword fiercely. He circled the figure, matching their footwork. They threw a dagger at him, and he moved out of the way at the last second. The blade embedded itself next to Astrid, who flinched but kept quiet. She didn’t need to remind their opponent there was a second person to watch besides the prince. The person drew a sword, and Hiccup attacked.

They were evenly matched, it seemed, and Astrid felt a glimmer of pride until the assailant pushed through Hiccup’s guard. Her friend was driven back, barely able to block each swing. She sat up carefully, breathing through the flare of pain along her shoulder, and grabbed the knife. Hiccup saw her out of the corner of his eye, and his retreats angled until the person’s back was to her. She leapt up and slammed the knife’s hilt upon their head and they crumpled.

She stood across the Prince, panting heavily as he stared down on their aggressor’s form with a savage expression. He blinked and shook his head as if clearing it. His face, usually so cheerful, was grave.

“Are you okay, Hofferson?” he asked, concerned.

“I’m fine,” she waved him off and walked over to her outer tunic she had shed before the spar, donning it quickly to cover her back. “We should turn him in to Gobber.” Hiccup nodded and they both grabbed an arm, Astrid holding back her wince as her shoulder strained.

Gobber was sitting in his tent when they entered. He shot up in alarm as he took in the figure strung between them. “Holy - are ye okay, lads?”

“We are. He might not be,” Astrid said as she and the prince dropped the body on the floor. “Caught him trying to sneak into the camp. Tried to kill us.” Gobber’s mouth formed an incredulous O.

“We think he’s from the other side,” Hiccup added.

“Thor’s soiled underpants on his spanked ass,” exhaled Gobber. “Ye could’ve - ye almost got yersel’s killed!!! What were ye thinking, ye daft bams!” He knelt to inspect the intruder’s face and inhaled. “Aye, yer lucky yer still alive.”

“Hiccup fought him,” Astrid said.

“Hofferson knocked him out,” Hiccup added. Gobber cuffed him on his head. He yelped, rubbing his tender scalp with a glare.

“What were ye two even doing outside?” Gobber asked in exasperation. They shuffled their feet and examined the specs on dirt on the tarp floor, dragged in by their boots. When neither of them said anything, Astrid spoke up.

“We were sparring,” she admitted quietly. She didn’t dare look up. Gobber sighed.

“I dinnae ken why ah’m still surprised anymore,” he said, shaking his head. “Ye did good, bringing him in.” Hiccup shifted, a small smile on his face. “But ye fools will be on chamber pot duty for a week!” The smiles fell at record speed. “Were any of ye hurt?” He questioned.

“No, we’re fine,” she interjected quickly. Hiccup shot her a confused glance, but she ignored it.

“Good. Yer dismissed; go! Sneaking off in the middle of the night . . .” Gobber muttered, waving them out of his tent.

Hiccup could clearly see his friend was in pain, but could also tell they didn’t want Gobber to know.

“Hey,” he tugged on Hofferson’s arm. “Let’s go to my tent and get that shoulder cleaned up."

“No need; I’m fine,” they assured him, but he could see the furrow between their brows indicating they were in pain.

“I’m not going to leave you alone until I know you’re okay,” Hiccup threatened. They paused, and rolled their eyes.

“You worrisome idiot,” they huffed. He grinned and pulled them along as they walked to his tent to clean his friend up (it was marginally bigger than everyone else’s).

Astrid was hesitant to let him treat her. No, she knew she should have just said no; but it had warmed her heart to see him so concerned about her. She was taken with a sudden urge to tell him the truth. She had been feeling these urges for a while, usually after the Prince had told her something personal or after a particularly close escape from trouble, but never as cripplingly strong as now.

She struggled with herself as Hiccup sat her down on the floor (his tent’s fabric was also thicker than hers) and procured water and some rags. He knelt by her with the supplies, ready for her to take off her shirt. She should tell him. She should do absolutely nothing of the sort. No, she was going to do this; he deserved to know if only to explain why she couldn’t let him treat her. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, the words abandoning her at the last second.

The Prince simply sat there, waiting. He trusted his best friend Hofferson, but he had had his own suspicions that something wasn’t entirely right about him. With his armor off and hair grown longish from their trip, the Prince couldn’t help but think he was remarkably pretty, for a boy. And Hofferson consistently got sick around the same time of month, and he always bathed apart from the rest of them. Hofferson always wore looser clothes than the rest, but no one was immune to sweat, and he had noticed that the tunics never stuck to him quite the same way it did to other boys. Or even sometimes Hofferson’s voice would go high without sounding like it was about to crack. He had a hunch, but had never dared confront him with it; what if his friend were offended?

Astrid braced herself for the plunge. “Hiccup,” she couldn’t meet his eyes. “There's something I need to tell you - Or, well, confess, more like . . .” This was hard. Her nerves built up, screaming for her to abort. There was still time to take it all back. But that would still leave her with an uncomfortable dilemma. She didn’t like lying to her friend - her best friend. She wouldn’t hesitate to throw herself in front of him to protect him, and she didn’t doubt he felt the same. So why should she hold back an important secret? Would he be mad at her for lying and ruin their friendship? Would he order her to be executed? No, that was ridiculous, but she had no idea what to expect. She swallowed and spit it out. “Hiccup. I’m not - I’m not like you guys. Like you boys. I’m a-”

“-girl,” the Prince finished for her. Her mouth dropped open in shock and horror. They were quiet for a moment, the world holding its breath as if waiting to see what happened next. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched the edge of her tunic. She wished he would just say something so she could stop wondering how in the world he had known that.

“It makes sense,” he said carefully, earnestly. Astrid gawked at him in disbelief.

“You knew?” she accused, outraged. After all that worry, the struggles, the guilt, he had known?

“No, no,” he assured her. “I mean I - I had a hunch - I suspected. B-but it wasn’t obvious. I was too afraid to bring it up for fear you’d kill me for the offense!” he chuckled thinly. "But it - it explains a lot of things."

“Are - Aren’t you going to tell anyone?” she asked shakily. He shook his head vehemently.

“Why would I? You’ve kept all of my secrets; I can keep yours.” She observed him through narrowed eyes, but she had every reason to trust him. And he was, after all, the Prince. If, or maybe she should say when, she was found out, it would only help her case if the Crown Prince supported her, she reasoned. But maybe her parents shouldn’t know she’d told him. That detail could stay between them. She held her hand out, and they firmly shook hands.

“So,” he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and gestured to her shoulder, suddenly shy in front of a girl. “Do you, um, do you want help or-or should I leave? Since. You know, um, yeah.” Astrid couldn’t contain the girlish giggle at his discomfort and reddening face.

“So eager to get my shirt off without even asking my name; where are your manners?” she teased him. Hiccup’s eyes widened in shocked realization and, if possible, flushed harder.

“N-No!” he stuttered desperately. “I - I would nev- I - not what - so what is your name?” he fumbled as he scrambled to catch his dignity like one fumbled at a falling vase. Astrid was greatly amused; he hadn’t stuttered around her for almost a whole year, and hearing him stutter again made her nostalgic and happy.

“Astrid,” she said quietly, suddenly overcome by shyness. Would he like it? Did he think it suited her? Why did trusting him with such a simple fact feel so . . . intimate?

“Astrid,” he repeated to himself, as if savoring it.

She found herself swallowing hard and trying to calm her heart as it stumbled, unaware of the prince’s guilty stare as she unconsciously wet her lips.

Read Chapter 2 here

#httyd #hiccstrid fanfiction #hiccstrid #medieval au #httyd fanfiction #my writing #my fics #friends to lovers #slight pining #Astrid Hofferson as a knight #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #hiccup and astrid #The Lady Knight

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