#but also space stuff is wild because it's like... suddenly I am very aware of how tiny we are but it's not a bad feeling

[thethingything]

Lucy's put on an album we listened to loads when we were like 14 and a bunch of the songs reference Carl Sagan so they were like "wait maybe we should watch Cosmos" and 🦋 was very enthusiastic about this so I guess that's what we're doing once the album's finished, and I just remember the last time they were like "let's watch a documentary about space that I watched on repeat years ago!" where we ended up with shrimp emotions about it so this should be fun

[sirmidezz]

Erm hellur fellas

I'm aware its been some time since I have been on here, a lot has happened and I mean A LOT. Lets start off with explanation on what has been going: I used to live in Mexico when I first started posting on here, at first I had an American phone which allowed me to do a variety of things such as draw digital art without my phone glitching, able to make posts without it buffering and then deleting my work. I then got a Mexican phone from an oxxo (basically a gas station :'[) and that phone didn't seem to work like at all and I kept on having complications. so I wasn't able to post for quite a lot of time, even before I got my new phone I had zero internet connection so I wasn't even able to get on the internet or do basically a lot of things. More recently though I moved back here to America, so I was pretty busy with everything and everyone. I wont say I will be able to post more often now with the big move and everything but this time I can and I will try to post at least once a week. Another thing I want to discuss is about the new stuff I will be making content about, I will be dedicating this account to team fortress, yes after all of these years my friends managed to finally drag me into this wacky fandom and game and I can say I love it a lot more then I expected. I still will be writing about all of my other fandoms and stuff but I just want to let yall know I'm gonna be stuck with tf2 for some time as my main. What I also am gonna disclaim is certain topics that really require a TW for S@. recently I underwent a very traumatic experience that really changed my life, I wont get into details, but I'm really hoping to find people to share my story with and heal alongside me as I journey through the the unknown silence that comes after the S@, and for anyone else reading this who has been through stuff like this just know, you are still loved, you are heard, you are seen, and your not fighting this battle alone, my page is a safe space for everyone who has suffered stuff like this and I hope to one day be able to not only see others heal greatly but to also see myself grow from the experience I have had. It's hard thinking that stuff like this would've never happened to you but it suddenly does and now your lost on a road you would have never expected to be on because you always had it in a very convincing vision. I'm glad I'm able to be back on this platform and explore new ideas and see how much my mutuals have grown, even if they moved onto different fandoms I probably wont be apart of anytime soon lol. But any who, a big announcement, I wont be posting art a lot anymore until further notice but, I still will be posting stuff like silly headcannons, short excerpts of storys' I will be working on and random play dialogue with my favorite characters and a few OCs and my self inserts if I'm feeling the mood to be in my own worlds. but anyways to end this little note I would like to say that after all of this waiting I'm finally 16 so as my mother told me to type "clear the streets the beast is running wild." a reference to the fact im old enough to drive legally. :)

[lollytea]

I wish we could see how Lilith and Hunter’s relationship would change after everything. Lilith would never admit that she held a grudge to a child and Hunter would definitely not know how to address her outside of the coven system (what was exactly the hierarchy there?). But then one she finds him reading one of her papers and then he has actual interesting feedback. And she loves hooty but it’s nice to have someone who can hold a conversation and not just stare mindlessly as she rambles. And Hunter loves his friends and doing stupid teenager shit, but every once in a wild he needs space to be a boring grandpa. Anyway what I am trying to say is that I think that they would be academic colleagues and see them as the research team responsible for rediscovering the lost history of the boiling isles and wild magic, after centuries of lies.

This is SO cute and also very correct.

"Boring grandpa" abdjnk he literally IS Lilith's (great (x20)) grandpa.

But yeah I want to see them have an interaction now that they've both broken free of Belos's influence. And like. If they're gonna go to the effort of establishing that Lilith hates Hunter, why not give some sort of conclusion of that. One interaction season 3 I beg of you. Like how would they even address each other after everything?

I feel like they'd be pretty awkward around each other at first. The reasons Lilith couldn't stand Hunter were all related to Coven Stuff and immature jealousy over the "Special Treatment" he received. Lilith was a very petty childish women.

Well at this point she's done some soul searching and has recognized how psychologically warped she is because of the Emperor's Coven and that it does not remotely define her worth as a person. So really, what is there for her to hold a grudge against Hunter about? She's aware that he turned his back on the Coven, on all his "Special Treatment" because he realized how corrupt Belos was. Just like Lilith did. This would probably open her eyes to the realization that she and Hunter are just two victims of the same system. He's been under Belos's thumb since birth. Meanwhile Lilith was around his age when she joined the Coven and it was basically her entire world since then. I don't think anyone in the Emperor’s Coven was more thoroughly brainwashed than Lilith and Hunter.

But like. Would she feel guilty? Probably. Would she know how to address it? Probably not. I could honestly see Lilith just attempting to make painfully awkward smalltalk with Hunter or win his favour in her painfully awkward Lilth way. More than anything this would probably confuse the fuck out of Hunter, but he's just as awkward in return.

Judging from that one Dana art, while they were both in the Coven together, Hunter was pretty much walking on eggshells around Lilith. He knew she hated him and was trying to avoid doing anything that would make her hate him even more. But now that they no longer have the favour of Belos drawing a wedge between them and she's being weirdly nice to him, he has no idea how to react. What's her angle here? Why has she suddenly dropped the "Golden Brat" nickname? This is weird and he doesn't trust it. Yes he always wished Lilith would be nicer to him but now it just feels unnatural. Freaks him out.

At some point Lilith is presenting her very own exhibit at the museum and, since the two are running in the same social circles now, Hunter attends along with Luz and Eda. He really does want to support her. But at the same time, he does everything in his power to not interact with her. He dodges her at every turn, as she converses with all the other museum patrons and history enthusiasts. Eventually she's close to noticing him and Hunter ducks into the first room he finds, which just so happens to be Lilith's office.

Now does Hunter know that it's not morally right to snoop around in your ex colleague's office? Yes. Would he do it anyway? Probably. He's just has this insatiable curiosity, what else can he do? Plus he really does want to come to some understanding about Lilith. In all the years he's known her, she's always been wearing one mask or another. Whether chilly or uncomfortable pleasant. This is how he stumbles upon one of her papers.

Hunter gets sucked in by the topic, the enthusiasm, the expert research, the precision, and he wonders if she's always been this passionate about history. He never really knew any of her interests while they were in the castle. She never told him. It feels weird to read. The way Lilith writes reminds Hunter of the way his brain goes really fast when he's thinking about a topic that's set his interest ablaze. He never would have figured that they had anything in common besides that good ol' Coven Trauma.

That's when Lilith walks in and Hunter is quick to blurt out an apology. Lilith hurriedly waves him off and pretty much offers him anything in the room if he wants. Does he like the desk?? It's all his!!

However Hunter then holds up the paper and tentatively asks if Lilith wrote it. Lilith nods, flustered and apologises for all the inksplots and the sloppy handwriting and--

Hunter reads a paragraph aloud, rambles out a few impassioned comments and then asks if she could please elaborate on this one part here. It's super interesting the way she talks about it.

Lilith's suck-up persona drops instantaneously. She completely forgets about it in that moment. Nobody has ever asked her to elaborate on her work before. People usually find them boring. She's so ecstatic she nearly tears up. She crashes down in the seat next to Hunter, the awkwardness between them evaporating and the two talk for hours. She's so excited that she forgets about her own exhibit.

And oh my god YEAH. I never thought about that potential future before but I could absolutely see Hunter researching lost history alongside Lilith. That's actually so cool to think about. They would make such good geek friends.

[3liza]

talking about flters and real beauty vs fake beauty and cultural standards etc always makes me think about all the victorian and edwardian novels i read, where the things that people thought about beauty were recorded at length. recently ive been reading a lot of Thomas Hardy (best known for Tess of the D’Urbervilles and Jude the Obscure) and there’s so much discussion of the beauty of people, particularly love interests, both men and women. and these writers, and their eras, and the culture of the eras, was of course obsessed with beauty and youth and also artificial beauty (being the eras of the really transformative corsets, not to mention some of the earliest industrialized or modernized beauty products or processes), as all human societies are to a greater or lesser extent in their own ways, but the thing that sticks out to me in reading these books is how beauty is not the singular or even the most important aspect of a person’s overall attraction. if someone has a beautiful face or figure, it is mentioned, but never to the obsessive, fixated extent that physical beauty is isolated from and elevated over all other features in modern american/western culture. there are plenty of protagonists or love interests in these books who are described as not young, or not remarkable, or not pretty, or even ugly or frightening, but nevertheless compellingly sexy and attractive, or simply interesting, or worthy in some way. 

its weird that the cultural consciousness has become seemingly ignorant of non-physical attraction. like that anon that was in my inbox talking about how they were “normal looking’ and therefore “needed” filters in order to “compete” with attractive people. it’s a weirdly mercenary and capitalist view of the social economy, first of all, which absolutely is not zero-sum no matter how badly the social networks want to convince us that it is. but there was never a single mention from that person about their ability to charm or entertain or attract using anything except a fake photo of themselves. wild. im fuckin worried about them! im worried about every young person how has brain worms

when i was about 4 and starting to become aware of how much adults were obsessed with my appearance because i was dainty and blonde and could do a passable shirley temple imitation, my parents gave me a very serious lecture about what physical beauty actually meant: i didn’t work for it (yet, i mean i do a lot of work now as an adult), it was given to me genetically. and someday, maybe sooner or more suddenly than anyone could predict, it would be gone. if accident, illness, or hardship didnt get me, old age eventually would. so with that being a certainty, i had better build a life and a personality on something other than my looks. and i said, ok. every day i get older im more grateful for that advice and the fact i decided to take it to heart instead of trying to gamble on Being Hot for long enough to get job security. which is also a valid career choice but it’s a risky one. always better to have a fallback just in case.

im of an age rn where a lot of women in my peer group are starting to get a very hunted vibe about the impending end of their youth, which is valid. theres nothing foolish about it, its not their fault, theyre not stupid or somehow lacking because this is an issue in their lives. but im noticing that i am significantly less freaked out by, idk, how long ago the 90s were or whatever, because i have been expecting to get old since i was in kindergarten. and i had adults around me who were just like “hey this is what old people look like and what bodies do over time. its not a big deal. everything on tv is fake btw”. i didnt get out unscathed, ive had eating disorders and all sort of weird brain-body problems. 

my advice i guess if i have any is to go outside and really look around you. notice how almost every single woman, and most men, has at least some cellulite, even if its just when theyre sitting down or whatever. notice how everyone has blemishes and zits. most people have some dandruff. if someone is wearing makeup, it’ll be cakey or balled up or smeared or uneven or clumpy even if it’s just a bit. everyone over the age of about 20 will have stretch marks somewhere, even if they aren’t visible except in certain light. i was under the impression i didnt have many until one time seeing a picture of my butt in FULL natural light and finally saw the entire surface of both cheeks was covered in straitions, they just were hard to see most of the time because im the color of drywall and scars tend to be light. it’s really easy to spot hair extensions and wigs and fake nails and fake tans and shapewear once you figure out how to see it. and none of these things take away from someone’s character. 

there’s a strong argument to be made that when corsetry was the norm, no woman was expected to simply be the shape of the corset unless she was actually wearing it. photographs and drawings of women in the 19th and early 20th century were retouched a bit as all photos have been, yes, but they were not retouched to make naked women appear to be corset-shaped. THAT is new. people are now getting surgery to be corset-shaped. and like, i dont think anyone should not be able to look however they want if they want to have that surgery. that is one meaning of cyborg feminism, probably. what i dont want, is for anyone to ever think that’s a normal way to look (except for veryvery tiny mathematical outliers, the Barbie Hips Georg of instagram) WITHOUT surgery or shapewear. which i see a lot now. i saw an instagram fashion designer with a very obviously surgically-altered body answer a question in her inbox about how she maintained her figure with some nonsense about diet and exercise. so now some (probably young) person out there is thinking that if they just do intermittent fasting enough, theyll look like a woman with butt and boob implants, a BBL, fillers, etc. that person probably thinks that if they arent able to diet and exercise good enough, they will fail at looking that way through their own laziness and lack of work ethic or whatever. i see that mindset constantly, especially in young women.

the surgery isnt the issue. the look itself isnt the issue. the filters themselves arent the issue. the issue is that on none of these images, is there an indication of what has been changed or how. the brain damage effect of filters would be lessened, i think, if everyone KNEW which images had been altered and how. so maybe thats the answer? mandatory labeling? i dont know. what’s terrifying is that the average adult human in america cant tell from a glance what has been altered in a photograph, no matter how clumsily, because they simply dont have a template for what a real human looks like anymore. the false images have supplanted the real images, the actual memories of alive humans that you know and have met or lived with. 

if you go into any of the shittier men’s spaces online you will find threads for posting pictures of “beautiful girls”, and it is page after page after page of teenagers in full makeup, hair extensions or wigs, circle lenses, facetuned, bodytuned, surgery, etc, and then hundreds of men yearning and fanning themselves over her “natural beauty”. dont go looking for this stuff, it will permanently fuck you up to know what a basic guy on the bus is thinking about women every day. dont do it

but i also seriously predict a backlash into “natural” looks after this current madness, similarly to how the 1960s saw the rise of the hippie girl with swingin titties, pit hair and no high heels after the consumer beauty madness of the 50s. of course the 60s beauty ideals were in some ways just as fake, but there was some authentic yearning towards a freedom from capitalist bodies as well. so when that happens send me $20: paypal.me/3liza. should be in like the next 4 years or so. thanks

[fific7]

Cold Day in Hell - Part 3

Logan Delos x Reader

A/N: This does not completely follow canon, it’s mainly lemon zest 🍋 because the world needs more Logan Delos. (Song mentioned is ‘I Knew You Were Trouble’ by Taylor Swift)

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content, including oral, between consenting adults* in some chapters. Drinking and swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

(My GIF)

You lifted Logan’s arm off you and scooted out of the bed at the speed of light, and stood beside it looking down at him. He, meanwhile, had stretched himself out like a big cat right across the bed and was grinning lazily up at you.

“Awww, sweetheart - you spoiled my fun!”

Turning on your heel, saying nothing, you headed to the bathroom and locked the door. You hopped into the shower, praying that he’d have taken the hint and left by the time you emerged. Taking your time, you blow-dried your hair a little and smoothed on the expensive, famous brand body lotion provided by the hotel. Wrapping yourself in one of the hotel’s fluffy bathrobes and picking up your clothes, you cautiously opened the bathroom door and walked into the room.

Logan was still on the bed. In fact, he was now in the bed and had pulled the covers over himself up to his waist, his clothes in a pile on the floor. All of his clothes.

His head turned towards you, his eyes meeting yours and he folded his arms across his bare chest. “You’ve been ages in there, sweetheart. And I needta use the restroom so badly!” He dramatically threw back the bedcovers and you turned away like a flash, squeezing your eyes closed before you got an eyeful.

You felt soft huffs of breath on your neck and Logan whispered, “Oh good, you’re naked too. Well, underneath that robe you are.” You felt long fingers slowly moving the neckline of your robe aside and you clutched at the fabric, pulling it tightly closed. “Logan…. will you please just fuck off!” The fingers left your robe and you heard a deep chuckle, “I’ll only be a few minutes, darlin’, then we can continue this conversation back in bed.”

A thought quickly whizzed through your brain that you’d just told your company’s biggest client to fuck off, but really - he was too much.

The second you heard the bathroom door close, you raced to the wardrobe and pulled out the skirt and blouse you’d decided to wear that day. Grabbing your lingerie, you got dressed in record time and were just doing up the last of your blouse buttons when you heard the door opening again, and quickly shut your eyes again in anticipation of a naked Logan appearing in front of you.

“Ohh, really? You got dressed? It’s too early for that, sweetheart - it’s only 5 am. Take ‘em off and we’ll go back to bed,” you heard, his voice seductive. “Absolutely not, Logan,” you snapped back, “and put your damn clothes back on!”

He gave an exaggerated sigh, “Oh my, you are absolutely no fun at all!” Trying to move away from him, eyes still closed, you came in contact with a toned torso and leapt back from him as if you’d been burned. You banged into the table behind you and a pair of arms instantly went round you. “Careful, angel.” You tried to shove away from him and made the mistake of opening your eyes. Logan tightened his hold on you and his dark espresso eyes were gazing into yours. You didn’t look down but he was pressing his very healthy erection against your lower abdomen and he leant in towards you, lips millimetres away from yours.

Suddenly, you realised you’d parted your lips slightly in anticipation of him kissing you. But he released you, turning quickly away (you trying not to look at that tight ass, really trying) and heading back to his clothes pile. He grabbed them up and headed into the bathroom, saying over his shoulder, “Don’t mind if I use your shower, angel, do you?” The door closed behind him.

Relieved, you thought, ‘Well, I think I managed to handle that okay. Didn’t I?” You weren’t absolutely sure that you had, but whatever.

You settled back in one of the chairs and switched on the TV. Busy channel-hopping to find something worth your attention, you suddenly heard a loud guttural moan issuing forth from the man in the bathroom.

Okayyyy, well… that sounded like he’d managed to handle it himself.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Logan was under the shower, vigorously soaping his body and humming a tune as he did so. It didn’t take too long for his hand to stray down onto his erection and he began stroking. Soon, he leant back against the tiled shower wall as he increased his pace, firmly pulling and squeezing his length before he came with a loud groan. Hope she heard that, he grinned to himself.

The first part of his plan hadn’t gone too badly. He’d got a lot closer to her already but this was him just getting into his stride. He was well aware he had to be careful not to overstep, but… he’d seen the way her lips had parted when she thought he was going to kiss her, so he was going to continue tiptoeing up to the line before stepping quickly back. He had a gut feeling that was the way to go.

He’d make her beg him for it before he was finished.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

As you gathered up your spare handouts and the rest of your stuff at the end of the first investor meeting, you had to admit that you and Logan had worked extremely well together. Neither of you had rehearsed how to approach the meetings past what information you were going to cover, but you’d ended up being a bit of a double act. In fact the two of you had received a round of applause at the end of it.

Logan strolled round the conference table to stand next to you and looking up at him, yet again his sheer magnetism made you catch your breath. You looked down quickly, packing the remaining folders away into your document bag. “That went really well, you were fabulous.” “Thanks Logan, so were you.” As you met his gaze again, he smirked, “Well, I keep trying to show you just how fabulous I am, but you keep shutting me down.”

You opened your mouth to reply but he said quickly, “Just have dinner with me.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Logan was feeling very happy with himself. She’d agreed to have dinner with him albeit reluctantly, and he was back in the shower, working shampoo through his hair before rinsing it out and enthusiastically shaking his head to and fro. He started singing “I Knew You Were Trouble”, lovingly stroking and winking at his resting manhood before pouring a generous amount of shower gel into his hand and rubbing it over his body.

Strings pulled, he’d managed to get a table at SkyCity, and he had a really good feeling about tonight. Once she saw the view from the top of the Space Needle and had sipped a few glasses of premium champagne, surely he could charm her into his bed? With a confident spring in his step, he dried himself with one of the big fluffy towels, still singing.

“'𝒞𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓊𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃

𝒮𝑜 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝓃 𝓂𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓌

𝐹𝓁𝑒𝓌 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒𝓈 𝐼'𝒹 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃

'𝒯𝒾𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓅𝓊𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃, 𝑜𝒽

𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓊𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃

𝒮𝑜 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝓃 𝓂𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓌

𝐹𝓁𝑒𝓌 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒𝓈 𝐼'𝒹 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃

𝒩𝑜𝓌 𝐼'𝓂 𝓁𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝑔𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹

𝒪𝒽, 𝑜𝒽, 𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓊𝒷𝓁𝑒, 𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓊𝒷𝓁𝑒, 𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓊𝒷𝓁𝑒

𝒪𝒽, 𝑜𝒽, 𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓊𝒷𝓁𝑒, 𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓊𝒷𝓁𝑒, 𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓊𝒷𝓁𝑒”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Laying back in the bath, you swirled your fingers through the fragrant foam on the water’s surface and wondered how long it would take Logan to make his move. Because you knew, as night follows day, that he would hit on you tonight. You weren’t fooled by his earlier tease of almost kissing you. Even if - annoyingly - you knew you would have given in to it if he had. You guessed he’d probably try that approach again to entrap you. Picking up a big handful of foam, you blew it off your palm into the air and groaned.

The handsome big devil! Why did he always have to look so fucking hot?!

Another groan left your lips. You were going to have to firstly be on your guard big time, and secondly - and more importantly - stay in control of your own damn self!

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The view was spectacular. The meal was delicious, the champagne flowed and so did the conversation between the two of you. You ended up telling him way more than you’d originally meant to, how you’d had to fight your parents every step of the way to study your chosen subject - they wanted you to be a doctor or a lawyer and had eventually refused to contribute anything towards your education fees. How you still had a slightly frosty relationship with them, especially as your younger brother had gone on to become a doctor and therefore - irrespective of the fact that you’d earned many awards within your field and your salary was double what he made - little brother was perfection personified as far as your parents were concerned.

Logan had snorted as he’d sipped his champagne when you’d said that, and went on to tell you some choice items about James, ‘Daddy Dearest’ as he called him. How he and Juliet had eventually forced him into retirement, and he’d also made some cryptic comments about his ex brother-in-law and something which had happened in Westworld. He’d quickly changed the subject and recounted various other exploits of his while there, eyes sparkling with mischievousness as he mentioned heists and orgies. And the hosts. He told you all about the hosts.

“Sounds like you spend a lot of time with them, Logan,” you commented, strangely jealous of these robots for some reason. He shrugged, “That’s what they’re there for,” smiling at you, “no strings, y’know? No consequences.” You sat back in your chair, “And I guess that appeals to you? Like, a lot.” Logan crossed one long leg over another and also relaxed back in his chair, “I never lie, so the answer’s yes. Yeah, it did. No hassle whatsoever, what’s not to like?” His gaze locked in on you, “Until now, that is.”

You met his eyes, “And what’s different now?” “Maybe I want some strings. A little hassle, some consequences.” Laughing, you sipped your drink, “Really? I’m not sure you do.” He leant forward, “But I do, sweetheart. Because I want you.” You’d just taken another drink and nearly choked as you burst out laughing, “Oh Logan. No…. you don’t want me, you just want a quick fuck. And I’m not up for that in case you hadn’t noticed.” Logan looked offended for a second, then his usual confident look reappeared on his face. “How do you know what I want? If I wasn’t serious, why am I hanging around doing my best to win you over? I’ll be honest with you, I don’t usually need to try too hard, if at all.”

You burst out laughing, “Exactly my point! This is a novelty for you, that’s all. You’ll soon tire of it when you don’t get anywhere and then off you’ll go to an easier lay.” He shook his head, “No, that’s not the case. And who says I won’t get anywhere? Once I set my heart on something, I’ll go all out till I get it. And right now, that means you, angel.” “I’m not a commodity, Logan! I’m not something to acquire and then move quickly on from.” A lazy smile graced his lips, “Oh I know you’re not, sweetheart, believe me. That’s my point. I’m not about to move on.”

You looked across at him sceptically, “Uh-huh. Sure you’re not, Logan.” He leant back in his chair once more, a seductive smile on his face and dark eyes boring into yours, “Okay, let me ask you something. Do you think I’m hot?” Hesitating, you stalled by picking up your glass but his hand landed on yours, stopping you from raising it to your lips. “Nah, no drinking till you answer me.” He says he never lies, you thought, and I don’t think he does so I’ll return the favour. “Okay… yes, I think you’re hot.” He nodded, looking too smug for your liking so you carried on, “But in saying that, I wouldn’t get involved with you because of your rep.”

He nodded once more, a little disappointment now evident, “Yeah, don’t worry! - I definitely got that vibe. But leaving that aside, if you didn’t know all about me and my rep, answer me this. Would you have slept with me if we’d gone out on a date?” You could feel your face heating up and giving you away, so you admitted, “Yes, I would have. You’re hot, Logan, like I said.”

A big grin on his face, he picked up his glass and held it out so you’d clink yours with his. “That’s all I wanted to hear, sweetheart. I’ve got something to work with now.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Back at the hotel, Logan walked you to your room and as you stopped outside your door, thanking him for a lovely evening, he suddenly slid a hand around the back of your neck and pulled you towards him. His mouth found yours and he kissed you, lazily, sensually. You felt yourself melting into it, you couldn’t help it. My god does he know how to kiss, screamed your brain.

His lips left yours and you heard him whisper next to your ear, “I’ll show you that I can be different, that I’m not an asshole.” Your hand was on his chest and you could feel his rapid heartbeat. Your own was mirroring it, and you almost caved right there and then.

He stepped back from you, a finger trailing along your jaw, “Sweet dreams, angel. I’ll see you in the morning.”

You watched him walk down the corridor to his own room, and knew you were feeling nothing but regret.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Logan flicked on the TV with the remote and lay back on his pillows, naked, lifting his glass of whiskey and sipping. He was slowly but surely knocking down those walls of hers, he could tell. He’d felt it when he kissed her, she’d relaxed against him and slid her hands onto his neck and chest.

He was really surprising himself, if he was being honest. Never would he have hung on this long before if someone wouldn’t put out. He supposed that was one big disadvantage of fucking all those hosts, they never said no. And let’s be truthful, in real life people didn’t say no to him either. So he’d never really had to handle rejection before (apart from in his relationship with his darling father of course, but that was a whole other story). He sipped again; perhaps this was why he’d fallen for this new, intriguing, beautiful woman. She told him ‘No’, she wasn’t interested in his status, his money or what she could gain from him either in self-publicity or luxurious celebrity lifestyle.

And that was refreshing. Very refreshing. He was going to carry on with his battle plan, he would not give up until he’d won this woman, this prize. And no, he wasn’t regarding her as an object to be won, like a huge teddy bear in a carnival sideshow. They’d spent a fantastic evening together and he was feeling more and more of a connection with her. He sensed that she had the power to make his life better, to care for him, to bring meaning to his existence. Which scared the fucking crap out of him but it was what it was. He couldn’t stop himself feeling that way, so he’d just go with the flow and see what happened.

He was getting hard thinking about her and his hand slid down onto his cock. ‘Mmm, yeah, a little attention’s required here’, he thought to himself. He began working himself, stroking and squeezing, and soon he was scrabbling for a tissue from the box next to him on the bedside table. He bunched it up around the head of his cock and not a moment too soon. With a loud groan, he came almost immediately into it, expertly catching all of his come in the tissue cocoon he’d created. He wiped the tip and then the rest of his length and screwed up the damp tissue, tossing it into the nearest bin before sighing and relaxing back on his pillows again.

That… helped, but it didn’t satisfy him. Not properly. He needed her for that.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Lying awake, your mind was dwelling entirely on what you could have been doing if you’d invited Logan into your room, as you’d so nearly done. A vision of him on top of you, your legs wrapped round his hips. Or you on top of him, riding him like a pony. His hands on your hips, thrusting up into you, his face flushed and contorted with passion.

You shot up in bed. Okay, you were going to have to stop your brain from thinking. Not even wanting to touch yourself, you knew that wouldn’t do it for you when all you desired was Logan. Him. And that body of his.

A drink? Should you have a drink? It might help calm your restlessness. But to be honest, no - you knew it wouldn’t. There was only one thing which you knew would definitely help.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Logan was half-asleep, beginning to drift off into dreams of what he’d like to do to her if he ever got her into his bed. Dream Logan had just begun to lick her nipples when there was a knock at the door. What? Another knock, louder this time. He groggily realised that there was actually someone knocking and got up, grabbing his bathrobe from a chair and shrugging into it as he went to the door and opened it.

It was her. His dream woman. But in reality. Also dressed in a bathrobe and looking at him like he was an oasis in the desert.

She brushed past him and walked in, closing and locking the door behind her. Logan was truly dumbfounded by this turn of events. She stopped in front of him, untying the belt of his bathrobe a little, before lightly placing her hands on his chest. She gazed up into his wide and amazed eyes, playing with the hairs in between his pecs and running her fingers even further down to his money trail. His stomach muscles tensed involuntarily and then she was pushing him backwards, and when he reached the bed she shoved him hard.

Logan fell backwards onto it when the back of his knees hit the mattress, his feet still on the floor, longs legs bent, propping himself up on his elbows and looking at her in amazement. She reached for the belt of his robe again, kneeling down between his legs as she did so and his lips parted, his breath catching. Was she… was she really going to…? The belt fell loose and his robe fell open. She gazed with desire and appreciation at Logan’s erect length, then her fingers were on his tip. His hips jolted upwards and she began squeezing him and stroking her fingers round it, and he saw precum beginning to trickle out as he lay there watching her take him in hand. She gave him a sudden and extra firm squeeze while her other hand took hold of his balls and he yelped, like a damn dog.

Logan couldn’t believe he’d lost control of this situation, but it seemed that he absolutely had. He opened his mouth to speak, but she immediately put a finger to his lips.

“Not a word, Delos. Not one. Single. Fucking. Word.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

(Not my GIF - credit to owner)

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@obscurilicious @theshadowkingsqueen

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

[bonjour-rainycity]

Double Heart | Chapter Twenty-One ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 4032

Warnings: None

A/n Hello! Sorry I’ve been absent! Life got a little crazy with family visiting and school starting again, but I’m happy to be back! I’ll see you again Wednesday with the regularly-scheduled update :)

I wake with my face buried in the crook of someone’s neck. Pushing against the solid mattress, I raise myself up and try to remember where I am. But the solidness beneath me isn’t the mattress at all. It’s Haldir’s chest. I sit up straighter, realizing that, in the night, I’d pulled myself almost completely on top of him.

He moves as he chuckles, bringing a hand up to tuck my surely wild hair behind my ear. I look down to find him smiling up at me, looking much more awake than I feel. “Good morning.”

I purse my lips, trying not to show how much I enjoy the sight of him in my bed, the feeling of waking up with him. I lower myself back down, settling against his side. His arm wraps around me automatically, securing me in place.

“Good morning,” I reply, tucking my chin against his sternum. “How did you sleep?”

He chuckles, lazily running his fingers up and down my arm. “Better than you can imagine. Though I did have an elbow digging into my stomach, there were, amazingly, no snores. And your bed is so much more comfortable than mine.”

I grin, twisting so I can better see his face. “Well, if you can suffer through being stabbed in the stomach all night, you are welcome to share my comfy bed any time you like.” I furrow my eyebrows, considering. “For the next two nights, I guess. After that, you’re welcome to share the grass beside my bedroll.”

He throws his head back in laughter, the sight so beautiful that my own giggles dies as I take the time to stare at him. How can he be so carefree and joyful when he knows his death is only a few decades ahead of him?

Our conversations last night pretty much disintegrated my resolve to end things with him, not that I had much resolve from the moment we actually allowed ourselves to be together. So weak, I chide myself. But, as Haldir has reminded me time and time again, he is an adult and can make his own choices. I have to respect that, just as he has respected that for me on numerous occasions.

But part of me worries I’m just using that as an excuse to justify my selfishness.

Because no matter how well I love him, how much joy I bring him, how happy I make his life, I will always be the one causing his death. He’s not doing the same for me. I’m the one who will kill him.

Haldir moves his fingers from my arm to my hair, tangling his fingers in the waves. I love it when he does that.

He smiles at me, distracting me from my gloomy thoughts. “I am excited for you to see Lothlórien. What do you have left to do before we leave?”

I sigh, shrugging and leaning against him. “Not much. I’ve got to tell Alex about us, hopefully he’ll take it well, but you know how he can be. I imagine Lavandil already knows, but I would still like to talk with her. After that, just packing, but I can probably put that off until tomorrow night. Packing will be easy — oh, that reminds me — do you have an extra bag I could use? That’s actually what I went up to your room to get the other night, but you confessed your love for me which was really inconvenient, because I never did get that bag.”

He laughs again, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “Please accept my most sincere apologies. Before any future proclamations of love, I shall ask if there is something you need to cross off your to-do list, first.”

“Thank you,” I huff, feigning relief. “That’s all I ask.” Once our laughter dies down, I turn the question back to him. “What about you?”

I feel him shift under me as he stretches to look toward the curtains pulled over the window s, likely trying to gauge the time by the rays of sun peeking through. “I have a few meetings lined up, as well as continued training with the guard. They’re in quite good shape, but you can never be too prepared. And, as much as I hate to say it, I must get up.” He rolls so I am under him and places a sweet kiss to my forehead. “I have stayed in bed far too long.”

I grin up at him, catching his lips in a proper kiss before following him from the warmth of the blankets. “If you must.” I eye my closed door, now fully aware that we are well into the morning hours. I cross my arms, shifting my weight between my feet. “People will see you leaving my room.”

He looks up at me, back leaned against the wall as he pulls on his boots and laces them up. “Yes?”

I shrug, taking a few steps closer to him. “Well, they’ll talk.”

He raises an eyebrow, the beginnings of a smirk playing on the edges of his lips. “Would you like me to exit via window?”

I laugh and shake my head. “No.”

“Then let them talk.” He places his foot on the ground and meets me in the center of the room. “I’ve no intention of hiding you.”

I grin broadly, surprised by how much that sentence pleases me, and pull him down for a final kiss. “See you after dinner for training?”

“Yes,” he nods, letting his hand trail over my waves as he backs towards the door. “Your armor should be done by then. I’ll bring it with me.”

“I’m not wearing it,” I shout through the open door as he passes through.

“Yes, you are,” he calls back in a confident, almost lilting voice.

I grumble.

“Ah, good morning Ríneth.”

I freeze. Guess the cat’s out of the bag.

“G-good morning, Marchwarden,” comes the stunned response. As the attendant passes my open door, she sneaks a look, her eyes widening when she sees me standing in the center of the room. I raise a hand and wave.

She scurries off.

Stifling a chuckle, I close the door and head to the bathroom to get ready for one of my last days in Imladris.

{***}

I decide to tell Alex first. Between him, Lavandil, and Baranor, Alex is the most likely to have a sour reaction, so I’d prefer to just get that over with.

He welcomes me in after one knock and I try to contain my surprise, immediately noticing the explosion of books, scrolls, and papers scattered across his room.

I step over a large pile of volumes to make it through the entryway. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” He grins sheepishly, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Elrond said I could take some books with me, but they’re too bulky to travel with, so I’m trying to copy down as much as I can before we go.”

I nod, trying to find an area clear of stuff large enough for me to place my feet. “I bet Lothlórien has a good library.”

“I hope,” he agrees, bending to move some books so I have space. “But what’s up?”

“Um,” I press my lips together, suddenly feeling very, very nervous. My hands twist themselves in and out of each other as I look for anything to distract myself from the way my heart races. “I wanted to tell you…” Just get it over with. “Haldir and I are — together.” I wince. That doesn’t even begin to encompass how I feel about him, but how the heck do I describe our relationship?

Alex raises an eyebrow, setting the books in his hands down on the chest of drawers. “Yeah, for a while, right?”

I blink. Of all the reactions, I hadn’t expected that. “What?”

He tilts his head. “Wait, this happened recently?”

“Uh, yeah,” I huff, a little put out that he’s been thinking I’ve been secretly with Haldir and just hadn’t said anything about it. “What made you think it happened earlier?”

Alex shrugs, throwing his hands in his pockets. “Well, I don’t know, it was just kinda obvious something was there. I assumed the two of you acted on it around the time we got to Imladris and have just been trying to keep it a secret or something.”

“Wha—um,” I sputter, completely floored. “We’ve been avoiding each other for three months,” I defend, suddenly self-conscious of my apparently obvious feelings.

“Yeah,” Alex shrugs again, hauling a bag filled with books onto his bed. “I thought that was part of it — pretend to avoid each other to quiet the rumors, but then meet up when no one was paying attention.”

“Rumors,” I squeak, not liking the sound of that.

“Well, I didn’t hear any,” he corrects, noticing my panic. “I just, you know — the two of you seemed to click. I figured other people noticed it, too.”

He’s not wrong about that, I think, remembering Lavandil’s excitement and, before he changed his mind due to my mortality, Rumil’s.

Alex speaks again, the slightest shift in his tone. “I also figured that, well, your attachment to him is what was making you want to stay here and not work so hard to get home. Because, honestly Cosima, I can’t wrap my head around any other reason that would be strong enough to keep you away from your own world.”

“Oh. Right.” I look down at my hands, guilt buzzing in my stomach.

“But now that it’s official, I’m guessing you’ve decided?” Alex comes to stand in front of me, arms crossed in front of his chest. He doesn’t look angry, like I thought he would, just resigned.

I sigh, hating the disappointment I know I’m causing him. “Yes. I will help you figure out how to get home if you still want that, but I—I’m staying here.”

He nods, his jaw tightening. “And when I get home, what should I tell your family?”

I suck in a sharp breath. Ouch. I drop my hands to my sides, pleading with him. “Can we just—not? Please? I don’t remember them, Alex, I don’t even know if they exist, aside from nonna, who passed away five years ago. And here…well…” I sigh, mind drifting to Haldir and Lavandil and Rumil and Orophin and Baranor, and even Glorfindel. “My family—the family I chose—they’re all in Arda.”

Alex nods slowly, regarding me thoughtfully. “Can’t say I didn’t try.”

I try to ease the hurt. I don’t want him to be sad. “But I’ll keep helping you, I promise. If there’s a way home, we’ll find it.”

He sighs and then smiles, though it looks tired. “Yeah. Yeah you’re right. Thanks, Cosi.” He steps forward and pulls me into a hug, the action surprising me. Blinking against the shock, I wrap my arms around his shoulders, holding him tight. “I suck at showing it, but I am happy for you, you know,” he whispers, squeezing my shoulders.

He releases me then, and I smile up at him. “Thank you.”

{***}

After my unexpected conversation with Alex, it’s time to find Lavandil.

It’s not difficult.

Her high-pitched giggle catches me on the way to lunch, her hands whirling me around into a wall of curls. She surprises me by grabbing me in the briefest of hugs, then pulls away, gripping me tightly by the shoulders.

“I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! Orophin told me last night — he’s upset of course, but he does acknowledge that he’s never seen Haldir as happy as he is when he’s with you! And I honestly think Orophin just needs time. Bottom line, he wants Haldir to be happy and loved, and you’re doing just that. But okay, now that that’s out of the way, you must tell me everything.”

I laugh, trying to catch up with her enthusiasm and rapid-fire words. I pull her to the side of the hallway, closer to the stone wall. People are, of course, bound to find out as the week goes on, but I’d rather not shout the details of what I consider to be my most cherished moment. In a hushed voice, I recount the night Haldir and I decided to go for it, Lavandil squealing and grinning through the whole thing.

“That is so sweet,” she gushes, eyes bright. “Who knew Haldir had such a way with words!”

“I know, right,” I agree, pleased to finally be able to talk about this with one of my best friends. “And kissing him?” I place a hand over my heart in a mock swoon, earning me a delighted laugh. “I could do that forever.” But then I bite my lip, not sure how she’ll react to what I’m going to tell her next. “He uh—spent the night last night.”

Lavandil’s eyes blow wide. “Did you—”

“No.” I hurry to clear that up. “But, I mean…it’s difficult not to want to…” I sigh, feeling much better upon seeing her understanding nod. She gets it. “How do you and Orophin manage? For eight years?”

She grins somewhat bashfully. “Well, it does help that we don’t see each other very often. And a lot of times, we have to stop ourself before we end up getting married without a second thought. But it all just comes down to us acknowledging the reality of our situation — we don’t want to get married and live apart, but neither of us was ready to give up our homes, families, or careers, not until recently, so we had to wait to take that step. It was a decision we were both okay with for a while. But now…” She shrugs, her smile softens and a faraway look enters her eye. “That time is over. He’s staying here with me, and it’s the best feeling in the world.”

I smile at her, happy for my friend. “Do you…” I tread carefully, not sure how much more I can ask without intruding, “think you’ll get married then?”

“Oh, for sure,” she grins, crossing her arms over her chest. “And soon. All our reasons not to have conveniently been taken care of.”

I take her hand in mine and give it a quick squeeze. “I’m happy for you.”

“I’m happy for me, too, she jokes, winking cheekily. We laugh, and then she dissolves back into her interrogation of me. Dutifully, I answer each and every one.

{***}

When it’s dark outside, Haldir knocks on my door. In his hand, he carries a dark brown bag that makes a suspicious clanging sound with every step he takes. I eye it warily. He smiles, bringing the palm of my hand to his mouth for a kiss. “I’m sorry it’s so late. The drills ran long.”

I shrug, pulling him farther into my room and shutting the door behind him. “Don’t worry about it. I was with Lavandil until about an hour ago, anyway.”

He looks at me, a note of hesitation in his eyes. “And how did that go?”

“Better than expected,” I laugh in relief. “She’s very happy for us and says Orophin shows signs of feeling better. I talked to Alex too — can you believe it, he thought we’ve been together for months!”

At this, Haldir raises his eyebrows, shaking his head. “What would give him that impression? We avoided each other for almost the entire time we’ve been in Imladris.”

“That’s what I said!” I hold up a hand to stop him. “But I’m actually not going to talk to you any more until you open that bag. I need to decide if I’m going to be mad at you or not.”

He grins broadly, setting the bag gently on the ground. “I don’t know why you would be mad when all I’ve done is bring you a present.” Haldir reaches inside and draws out silver chainmail.

“Well, take it back,” I grumble, having correctly guessed the contents of the bag. I cross my arms over my chest.

“See?” Haldir smiles, straightening with the chainmail in hand. “It’s not as bad as you thought. It can even be worn under your clothes if you like.”

I grimace, taking a step forward and running a hand over the cool metal. Experimentally, I gather the bottom of the piece and hold it in both of my hands. It’s heavy. I look up at Haldir, unimpressed. “There’s no way this is comfortable.”

He shrugs. “You’ll get used to it. Besides, I’d rather have you uncomfortable and alive than comfortable and dead.” He steps forward, presses a kiss to my temple, then walks past me to lay the chainmail over my table.

I sigh. He’s just trying to keep me safe. “Alright, fine,” I acquiesce, following him further into my room. I step in front of him, trying to will my annoyance away. “Thank you for doing that.”

He smiles softly, though there’s a hint of humor in his eyes as he knows the effort I’m putting into making my tone polite. “You are very welcome. Now — go stand in the center of the room. I want to go over a few more techniques before we pause training to travel. And tomorrow, we’ll practice with the chainmail.”

I groan.

{***}

Haldir stays with me for the remaining two nights in Imladris. It’s very convenient — not only do I love having him with me, but it gives him and Rumil some much-needed space.

Over the course of our remaining days, we only had a few things on our to-do list: Inform Baranor of the development in our relationship — he didn’t seem surprised, just like he was making a very conscious effort to appear happy for us—prepare the horses, and pack our belongings and adequate provisions for the journey. On the morning of our departure, we’re set to meet at the bridge that marks the entrance to the city. Haldir leaves me while it’s still dark, kissing me while I’m half asleep and telling me goodbye. He went to ensure the horses were ready and ‘tie up a couple of loose ends,’ as he put it.

Despite the desire to sleep in, I rise with the sun, knowing we don’t have long before we leave. When I spot the chainmail laid over my table, I begrudgingly pull it on under my clothes, knowing Haldir will just send me back to get it if I don’t. It’s heavier than I want it to be, but he’s right — if we were attacked, it would provide an additional measure of protection. I don’t have to tell him that, though. Once I’m dressed, all that’s left to do is say my goodbyes and get on the horse.

I don’t want to say goodbye.

Lavandil meets me at my door. Wordlessly, she shoulders one of my bags and walks with me to the front of the estate. We step onto the lush grass, which still glints with the morning dew. Soon, autumn will creep in and the green of Imladris will turn into brilliant reds, golds, and oranges—or so my friends tell me. I hope that I will get to see it one day.

At the start of the bridge waits the rest of my company. I notice Haldir off to the side with both Orophin and Rumil. Unlike his brothers, Rumil doesn’t look up or wish us good morning. That stings—bad—but at least he’s talking to his brothers.

I search for Alex and, with a note of surprise, find him behind the horses, speaking with Elrond. I raise an eyebrow, but don’t investigate. If Alex wants to tell me about their conversation, he can.

Lavandil and I approach Faervel, who whinnies in recognition. Since Orophin is staying in Imladris, his horse is as well. Horses are apparently quite fond of their owners, so we agreed not to hurt any of them by pulling them away from their home and taking them back to Lothlórien. That means Alex still rides with Baranor and I will ride with Haldir — for now. Maybe if Rumil ends up forgiving me, I can ride Roch at some point.

I loop my bag into the straps on the edge of the saddle, securing it in place. Lavandil does the same with my other bag, tying it on Faervel’s back.

Someone behind me clears their throat, and both Lavandil and I turn around.

Elrond smiles in greeting, inclining his head. “Lavandil, would you mind if I had a moment alone with Cosima?”

“Of course,” she smiles, waving at me as she hurries off to join Orophin. This isn’t goodbye, I remind myself. I’ll catch her again before I leave.

Elrond pats Faervel on the head. “Cosima, I wish you safe travels.”

“Thank you,” I reply.

“Promise me,” he continues, voice turning serious, “that when you arrive in Lothlórien, you will speak to Lady Galadriel without delay. I believe she can help you and Alexander.”

I agree readily. Elrond has been so kind and helpful, of course I’ll do as he asks.

“Good.” He nods. “And, well…” he sighs, sadness entering his ageless eyes. “I pray to the Valar that you will have a happy, fulfilling life.”

Despite the well-wish, grief collects in his features and I suck in a breath, remembering exactly who his daughter is and who she loves.

I open my mouth to say — what? That I’m sorry? That I wish it were someone else? What can I say to an ellon whose daughter will die for the same reason Haldir will?  

I close my mouth.

Because no, there is nothing to say.

Elrond inclines his head in understanding and steps back, bidding a final farewell to us all before returning to his estate.

Rumil, Baranor, and Alex mount their horses.

It seems there is no more time to waste. Lavandil comes to stand in front of me, sniffling. “I guess this is goodbye.”

Tears enter my own eyes and I bite my lip, desperately not wanting them to escape and betray how sad I feel.

“The shop won’t be the same without you,” she whispers. Then, in a movement so fast I barely register the change, she flings her arms around my shoulders, drawing me in for a brief, tight hug. “Be happy.”

I pull back, smiling despite my sadness. “You too. Write to me?”

“Of course.” She gives me a watery laugh and tosses her curls over her shoulder. “Who else can we complain about them to?” She jerks a thumb in the direction of Haldir and Orophin, who put on identical expressions of affronted disbelief, and I break into actual laughter.

But when our laughter fades, Lavandil falls back, stepping out of the way of the horses and into Orophin’s outstretched arms.

Haldir walks up next to me. He crouches, ready to help me on the horse and, before I can look at the sadness on Lavandil’s face and burst into tears of my own, I put my boot in his hand, allowing myself to swing onto Faervel’s back. In the next moment, Haldir lands in front of me, taking the reins in his hands.

“Now what are all these tears about?”

I jump, startled by the loud, unexpected voice.

None other than Glorfindel, followed by four armored members of Imaldris’s guard, gallop down the path.

My golden friend sidles his horse next to Faervel, winking at me. “Good news, my dear lady, we shall not be parted so soon! Your commander—or should I say lover, now—” both Haldir and I make a face at the term, “asked for an escort through the mountain pass. My troops and I are happy to oblige.”

Haldir nods to him, serious despite Glorfindel’s exuberance. “Thank you for coming.”

Glorfindel smiles, returning Haldir’s nod. “Of course, mellon nîn.” He calls out a command and our company, much larger now, moves forward. I allow myself one final wave to Orophin and Lavandil, as well as a last glance at this shining city that had just begun to feel like home.

Before I know it, we have crossed the terrifying bridge and left the safety of Imladris behind.

A/n Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs make my day <3 And to everyone who responded to the last chapter: I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, THANK YOU!!!!!

|next chapter - to be posted|

|masterlist|

Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande 

Haldir tag list: @tolkien-apologist @that-cute-stranger

Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @from-patroclus-with-love @boywivlove @ordinarymom1 @my-darling-haldir @sweet-bea-blossom @moony-artnstuff @sleepyamygdala @thranduilseyebrows 

[idontmeantosoundrudebut]

Many of Horry - Chapter three: Sated hunger, sated madness

HELLO THERE! (that's fucking obi-wan Kenobi meme) it has been a hot minute but I have returned with the promised saucy goods and oh boy, its a mess. Both of ours boys are a mess, a hot mess, yes, very hot, very messy. BUT. Also very soft, very gentle, very romaaaance and its a bit of bad romance (insert lady gaga here plz). Snotlout has no marbles, boy's done lost them all, and Eret is just being British, idk tbh??? Should of added a "you know nothing, Jon snow" gag but that's a bit petty, though i may change my mind, I'm two-faced like that!

This is the boys doing the horizontal tango (add careless whisper saxophone here plz) with violence, soft moments, bickering, angst, scars, body-worshipping and all of the stuff that make weapons of mass destruction!

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Chapter summary -  Ten months prior to Eret's leave, Snotlout a mad decision. Ten months prior to his leave, Eret took a mad man to bed.

Chapter warnings - SEX! SMUT! THE HORIZONTAL TANGO! THEY GOT AT IT LIKE RABBITS! Um, also scars, mental instability (Snotlout is kinda crazy in this fic) violence

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He's not even given the pleasure of a warning. No distant cursing, no dramatic door-knocking, no crass bragging. Nothing.

Snotlout just storms into his cabin and punches Eret in the face.

It sends him to the floor and he stays there for a second, hand rubbing at his aching jaw as he looks up at Snotlout, confused and angry. Snotlout's eyes, hauntingly pale in the firelight, are brimming with unspoken rage and his lips are curled back in a wrathful snarl, there is too much anger in him and its brimming at the surface.

After that, his immediate instinct is to stand back up and fight back. Which he does. He thrusts his hands against Snotlout's chest, pushing him back a few feet, and Eret is confused when that snarl flips into a crooked grin. He wants this, he wants a fight, and who is Eret to deny him that?

"If you wanted a scrap, Snotlout, you should've just asked," Eret rolls his shoulders, feeling confident and angry because how dare this short mad man come into his home and attack him? Unprovoked, mind.

"Where'd be the fun in that?" Snotlout laughs and it raises goosebumps along his arms because there is something distinctively unhinged about that sound, it leaves an unnerved feeling in his gut. Men who laugh in the face of danger are the true animals, his father once said, for they have no fear. Even dragons cower at the prospect of death. Mad men howl for joy.

Snotlout charges forward with an arm reeled back, ready to throw a punch, and Eret ducks to the side as that closed fist falls through the empty space, leaving Snotlout staggering forward. But that mad smile doesn't falter as he expected it to and the look that Snotlout gives him from beneath his lashes triggers his flight or fight. It's the face of a rabid animal, of a mad wolf, of a deranged dragon, of something so deluded it doesn't even know what it's doing.

But despite this, Eret stands his ground and fights because he's ran away from things his whole life. Not anymore. He will fight Snotlout, he will fight this mad man.

He heaves in a heavy breath, holds it, then lurches forward with a closed fist. Snotlout doesn't dodge, or move, or even blink and there is something terribly wrong with that. A crunching sound fills the room as his fist hits Snotlout square in the face. Eret exhales harshly as he brings his hand up to brush the loose hair from his face, knuckles throbbing and heart thumping in his chest.

Snotlout takes a step back, head down and hand to face. By all rights, he should be on the floor, out for the night, Eret hit him as hard as he could. That too leaves a sickness in his gut. How can such a small body take such a huge punch? (Not that he's bragging, he's just aware of his own strength)

After a moment, Snotlout let's his hand falls to his side and it's wet with blood.

Then the dragon-rider looks up at him. Eret swallows firmly.

Rivers of blood pour from his nostrils and steadily flow over his lips and down his chin, thick droplets dripping from his jaw and some streak down his neck like exposed veins. He looks terrible with all that blood on him. Oh Gods.

But Snotlout, to his horror, smiles at him with all his teeth and they too are red, glistening, threatening. (It might be the trick of the firelight, but they look sharp)

He looks like a wolf, a wild animal that's just made a kill.

"Snotlout-" Eret starts, no longer angry but concerned because this isn't the Snotlout he knows (not that he knows him well), this isn't the prideful man who's bull-headed and overconfident, who's put-together and two dimensional. No, this is something else, something Eret is familiar with.

Many men went mad under Drago's tyranny.

Snotlout takes no notice of his name being spoken and throws a poorly aimed punch, his fist a good foot from his target. He staggers forward before righting himself, staring at Eret with wild eyes.

"Snotlout, enough now," He states firmly, forcing himself to stand taller to intimidate the shorter, but Snotlout just laughs through his wet teeth.

"What? Am I too much for the greatest dragon-trapper alive?" Snotlout mocks darkly as he opens his arms, almost inviting Eret to attack him.

And hot with the sudden rage of being mocked, of his dark past being bright to the light like its a joke, Eret takes that invitation eagerly.

He yells out as he tackles Snotlout to the floor, anchoring him down with his weight, and his vision blurs as he swings again and again and again till his hand feels close to breaking. Snotlout doesn't fight back. He pummels Snotlout's face as a great hatred unfurls in his chest, a hatred that does not belong to Snotlout, but to Drago.

To Drago. To his corrupted home. To himself. This hatred that's been festering within him belongs to all the things that have caused him to run away. All he's ever done is run, like a coward. Now, he will fight. When he looks beneath him, he sees Drago, he sees the men who murdered his father, he sees himself.

But when the fog clears, Eret is overwhelmed with regret and the first thing that goes through his head is oh Gods, I've killed him. Beneath him is Snotlout, not the men who made a coward of him. What have I done?

Eret pants and stares as he lowers his face closer to Snotlout's, who also pants. He's alive, thank Gods, I'm not a murderer. No, you are, you're still a murder, you're just like the men who killed him!

"Thanks,"

Eret shakes his head and really looks at Snotlout because what? Did- did he- did he just thank him? And then he catches the grin, this blissed out grin made of split lips and bloody teeth, Gods, he's been smiling the whole time. He can't find the words to answer back, he doesn't even know what he would say. (You're welcome)

The rider's face is red and shiny with blood and it makes his eyes so bright, so pale, so blue that he could drown in them. And in those eyes, in those cold waters, Eret sees a calmness that shouldn't be there after getting your face battered in. This is what he wanted, he let you do this, this wasn't a fight, he doesn't know what it was, but I wasn't a fight.

Then those eyes do something Eret wasn't expecting. They flicker down, down, to his lips. And they stare for a few moments before looking back into his, ghost-like and near-white. It leaves a familiar coiling feeling in his gut and he can't stop himself from doing the same, glimpsing a look at those red-shining lips that, suddenly, looks so kissable, even with all that blood.

He wonders is Snotlout came here for any other alternative motives.

Perhaps he asks this question through his eyes because Snotlout's eyebrows jump suggestively and he runs his tongue over his teeth, smearing that deep blood. It sends a hot flash straight to his cock and Eret swallows to quench the dryness in his throat.

"What do you want, Snotlout?" He asks lowly, hands on either side of the shorter's shoulders.

"I think you know, Eret," He responds stubbornly, his voice smug, and they feel so close, like there are no gaps between them. His heart feels like it's suffocating.

Eret does know, or he believes he does. He doesn't want to assume, doesn't want to make this situation worse than it already is.

"I want you to say it,"

It's a challenge and Snotlout's grin widens until there's too many teeth (just like Ruffnut's) and he raises his head till their noses touch, till their breaths warm each other. He licks his lips like a hungry beast and doesn't break eye contact, Eret can't believe how wildly blue they are. It's like looking at a frozen lake, the thick ice has cracked but not feel enough to break.

"I want you to fuck me,"

And that's it. It's out in the open. Eret is suddenly aware of the hardness pressing against his thigh and oh, how it just urges his own to grow in strength, and Snotlout know this too. He bites his bruised lip and blinks slowly. It has to be the prettiest thing he's ever seen. Never mind the blood, never mind the bruises, those eyes are otherworldly.

Slowly, Eret closes the gap between them and the kiss isn't rushed or violent, it's a hesitant movement. After a moment, Snotlout's breath hitches and reels back at the tender touch as if Eret has just smacked his across the face. He looks up at him and Eret swallows at the sudden insecurity that's swirling in those eyes, no longer angry or mad or confident, but unsure in the face of tenderness.

Eret waits for him to move and, sure enough, Snotlout again lifts his head, eyes fluttering closed as Eret meets him in the middle. Their lips slot together like they're meant to be and it fills Eret's heart with a warm feeling, like molten gold in his arteries. The irony taste of blood touches his taste buds as he swipes his tongue along Snotlout's busted lips, who lets out a quiet moan from the back of his throat. More, Eret hears.

It's goes on for a few minutes, this gentle dance, before Snotlout tries to speed it up. He tries to make it angry and obscene, tries to make it as dirty as their fight but Eret isn't having it. No, if they're going to do this, they're going to do this right.

Forcefully, he takes Snotlout's hands and slams them to the floor, above his head, in an almost bruising hold, staring down at him with a dark look.

"Calm down," He orders, his voice rough and heady, and Snotlout's entire body goes weak beneath him at the his commanding tone, "I know that you want a quick fuck, but we're not doing it like that, understand? Not while you're like this,"

Snotlout doesn't respond to him, but now he's almost hyper-focused on Eret and the way he's reacted to the solid orders and the firm hands immediately clicks an understanding in Eret. Snotlout, proud Snotlout who hates authority and instructions, needs to be told what to do.

A soft feeling spreads across his chest and Eret lowers his head till his mouth is next to Snotlout's ear.

"You need me to get you out of your head?" He whispers softly, absently rubbing his thumb over the throbbing pulse on his wrist, and Snotlout lightly nods his head, a shiver moving through his body.

"Fuck me-" Snotlout growls frustratedly, "-like you hate me,"

"No," is his firm answer and he lifts his head to be met with those eyes, bright and angry again at his denied request.

"What do you mean no? You- you bastard-"

Eret rucks his hips, grinding their clothed erections together, and Snotlout's cursing breaks into a breathy gasp as he thumps his head against the floor, tilting it with his eyes as they roll to the back of his skull. In his own pleasure, Eret grunts and admires the exposed throat before him, pale and mapped out with rosy streams of dried blood. Lowering his head, he runs his mouth along the arching curve of Snotlout's throat, his teeth travelling along the pulsing arteries like a threatening blade, Eret could rip out his throat right now and Snotlout would thank him for it. It is a powerful feeling.

He places a kiss, feather-light, on his Adam's apple before lifting himself, freeing one of his hands so he can bring it to Snotlout's chin. Again, they are face to face. Eret is delighted to see a flush fanning across his cheeks and a wanton look glossing his beautiful eyes. They really are beautiful, how has he never noticed them before? It's like he's just seen the moon in the sky for the first time. So pale, so haunting, so strange.

"I don't do hate fucking," He clarifies to Snotlout, voice purposeful and concise, and the response he gets is a forceful huff and an irritated eye roll, manageable enough. A smirk of his own stretches across his face as he tilts his head, eyes ablaze with mischief as he snarks; "I'm only into love making,"

A great laugh explodes from Snotlout's throat and it fills the cabin with a rich, balmy atmosphere that oozes deep into Eret's skin, into his bones, into his heart, it is not a sound he will easily forget. This isn't a sarcastic or mocking cackle, but a genuine laugh that Eret has only heard briefly in unshared moments. If thunder could laugh, it would be this.

"Shut the fuck up," Snotlout chuckles roughly, crinkled eyes looking up at him with mirth and Eret is aware of arms circling around his shoulders, bringing his face closer to Snotlout's.

"Shut the fuck up," He whispers again, voice silken and unchaste, and Eret is drawn into a shameless make out session that draws on till their lungs are aching from lack of breath.

They stare and pant like rabid dogs and there has never been a better feeling than this. This reckless desire, this violent delight, this bloody kiss, those brilliant eyes, that mad smile. No night has ever left him feeling so much. Eret notices that Snotlout is still covered in blood, blood that he spilt, and he rubs his thumb into the drying maroon crust beneath his nose.

"Get up," He says simply as he rises onto his feet and Snotlout makes a barely-audible whine when the hot weight on his lap disappears, gazing up at him from the floor with this lustful yet somehow also tired look in his eyes.

"Can't you just fuck me here?" He groans, sitting up onto his elbows and rolling his neck, and, Gods above, it's all about fucking with him, isn't it? Not that Eret can blame him, by the straining in his pants, he's just as eager as the shorter man.

"It's not love making if you're on the floor and covered blood," Eret retorts smartly, a grin tugging his lips as he offers his red-touched hand to Snotlout, "Now, get up and go clean your face,"

With a bemused snort, Snotlout takes his hand and is easily lifted to his feet. They don't let go of each other straight away and when he looks down at their hands, he sees that they are both flaking with dried blood. Snotlout's blood. It's a strange moment, almost like time has slowed, up until Snotlout's hand slips from his, dark blood-dust grating from their calloused fingers.

"Um, there's a wash basin in my room," Eret states, trying to dislodge his heart from his throat as he leads Snotlout to where his room is, their shoulders brushing as they walk through the doorway.

The copper basin resides on top of the dresser besides his bed and he refills it with clean water everyday, a thing of habit his mum drilled into him as a child.

It's quickly tainted from a shimmering clear to a murky pink as Snotlout splashes water on his face, the diluted blood from his nose and lips slipping through his fingers into the dish. Eret averts his eyes from that glistening skin and concentrates on scrubbing the dusty blood from his hand, the skin of his middle knuckle has split slightly and stings against his rubbing hand. All he can here is the tranquil movement of water and the echoey beat of his heart.

Briefly, he looks to the Rider beside him and notices that there's still blood on his neck, neighbouring with the gold-glinting streams of water droplets. With a face no longer shining with blood and madness, but with water and calmness, Snotlout looks like something from a soft dream and it leaves Eret's mouth dry and pulse running. He swallows, unsure what to do other than stare.

But the longer he stares, the more that calmness shifts in a restlessness that's writhing deep within, barely controlled, barely holding back. He should just give Snotlout what he wants, a quick shag, in and out business as it were, but there was something about that madness in those eyes that tells Eret a swift fuck isn't what Snotlout needs. Sure, it's what he wants, but it's not what he needs.

"Here," He says as he brings a wet cloth to Snotlout's throat, who asks what he's doing through wide, almost angry eyes.

"You've got blood on your neck," Eret clarifies for him, sponging the rag along the fading lines lightly and he can see Snotlout's artery thumping rapidly against the wet skin, it does a strange thing to his gut.

Snotlout turns to face him, head up but tilted to the side with his lips pressed together in a frustrated sort of expression, like this gentle act is an annoying inconvenience. Eret finds it both amusing and terrifying how quickly Snotlout's moods change, from wrathful to deranged to seductive to... Embarrassed? Is that it? He has no idea, but it must be painful to feel so many things at once.

To be honest, he feels a bit light headed himself from the quick changes the atmosphere has taken in the last half hour. The tone in the air currently feels domestic-like, with a hint of apprehension.

"Fucking Hel, stop," Snotlout brutally bats Eret's hand away and looks up at him with a firm, determined face, "Stop with the- the- the foreplay and just-"

In a moment of great confidence, Eret mercilessly rams Snotlout against the dresser and takes hold of the hair on the back of his head, yanking unkindly until Snotlout's throat is completely bared and his eyes are locked with his. There are no gaps between them. Their heaving chests are pressed together so closely that they can feel each other's pounding hearts and Eret presses his leg firmly between Snotlout's legs. A poorly restrained groan comes forth as Snotlout melts like butter in his heated embrace.

"Just what? Fuck you?" Eret growls and those blue eyes glow like a prayer in the candlelight as he faintly nods against the force of Eret's hold, Adam's apple bobbing through a swallowed breath.

"Yeah? You want me to be bend you over, fuck you till I'm done and throw you out, hmm? That's what you want?"

A hotness sweeps along Eret as he watches the submissiveness in Snotlout's eyes grow, his mouth dropping open at those dirty words, at that foul desire.

"Yes, Eret- Fuck yes, do- fucking that," Snotlout drawls breathlessly, a moan colouring his voice as his hair is pulled, legs spreading so Eret can ruck his knee up higher.

And Eret concludes that this, this is the prettiest thing he's ever seen and the power that consumes him is addicting, because it is no simple task to get a Viking Warrior like Snotlout to beg. Proud, fire-blooded Snotlout who now leans against him trembling and begging like a desperate whore.

Eret grins, mean and sharp, as he brings his mouth close to Snotlout's, their lips touching in a open-mouthed kiss that has yet to start.

"Well, too bad," He says in a low voice, lips brushing with each word, and Snotlout stares up at him with begging eyes that almost made Eret reconsider his choice.

But he doesn't.

So, he removes his leg, releases the harsh grip on his hair and slightly backs up so Snotlout has more breathing room. But he keeps his face close, keeps their lips touching and swallows the complaint working on Snotlout's tongue with the vigor of a gentle man. It's one of those kisses that leave you light headed from the softness. Snotlout's hands are frozen in mid air like he's never touched a person before and Eret takes them, holds them, feels the tremors in them and wonders what's so terrifying about tenderness. It's a quiet kiss, a quiet kiss in the quiet night.

They part only slightly to catch a reprieve, lips still touching as they inhale the moment, as they wallow in the balmy warmth of this strange but comforting moment. To think that they were at each other's throats not so long ago. It beggers belief. With closed eyes, Eret trails his mouth along Snotlout's jaw and down his throat, kissing and sucking at the dewy skin with a gentle passion because this is all his tonight, all his to feast on, and he shall savour this taste.

"We'll do this slowly, okay?" Eret mumbles into the crook of his neck, a heavy pulse against his lips, "I am going to fuck you, Snotlout, but I'm gonna do it slowly-"

Eret brings his mouth up until it's right under Snotlout's ear, teeth nibbling at the sensitive flesh and making the Rider's body tremble excitedly.

"-I'm gonna make it feel so good for you," he whispers headily into his ear and his abdomen tightens at the pitched, needy keen that slips from Snotlout's mouth.

"Okay- okay, just- Damn you, Eret, you can fuck me slowly! Just get me to the bed quickly!" Snotlout rasps, caught between desperation and frustration, and Eret can't stop the laugh from bubbling out as he throws his head back.

It's Snotlout this time who goes in for the kiss and it's all teeth and tongue, all hunger and thirst, all the things that Eret associates with a starved man. Starved of touch and tenderness, Eret too feels the cramp of desire. It has been too long.

Thick fingers pull loose the strings of his scaled vest and Eret grins into the kiss, moving his hands from Snotlout's hips to the hem of his vest as he steps back so he can pull it over his head. Dropping it to the floor, he watches as Snotlout gazes with an open appreciation at his bare torso, tongue wetting his lips as he runs his hands down his muscular chest. It leaves Eret's heart thumping wildly and a hotness creeps along his face at the touch, an admiring almost worshipping touch that is so very foreign to him.

"You're... Hot," Snotlout drawls lowly, half-lidded eyes and calloused hands trailing from his pecs to his abs, fingers just brushing over the teasing trail of hair on his abdomen. It sends shivers down his spine.

"I know," He replies confidently, though he can’t quite hide the quiver in his voice.

He knows he's attractive and he is frequently reminded of it, which does not help his ego, but the few men he has been with have always been a bit hesitant in the face of that bold brand on his chest. They've always given it a weary look, kept their hands close and guarded lest they get burnt themselves, treated him as if he's something wounded. He knows he's handsome, but that scar turns that confidence into loathing because it's so ugly and wrong, so evil to him. It's tainted him, it's marked him, it's labelled him.

SLAVE BOY! COWARD BOY! HE RUNS AWAY, SELFISH BOY! MURDERER! TRAPPER! SLAVE! ALWAYS A SLAVE, FREEDOM IS A JOKE AND NO ONE IS LAUGHING!

But Snotlout seems unhindered by it, trailing his fingers along the outline of the furrowed, pink scar with a curious, admiring touch that leaves Eret breathless. He expected a cringe or a hesitant hand, but Snotlout almost seems drawn to his many scars, like a moth in a room of candles. Hands palming and fingers tracing the wicked lines along his toned stomach, his broad shoulders, his exposed collarbone.

He is a marked man. A slave to a greedy country, a slave to a mad man, a slave to violence. He is marked by each and every one of his masters and forever he will be reminded that freedom was a dish never served to him. It was a dish he stole. No longer is he a slave, but there is something missing in his freedom and he doesn’t know what.

"I thought you wanted to get a move on," Eret mumbles with an almost strained voice and Snotlout looks up at him, golden from candle-flames and still glistening from water, he looks like dew at dawn.

"I thought you wanted to slow down," Snotlout retorts back, hands rubbing up and down his chest, and he grins smartly up at him, "What? I'm allowed to touch you, aren't I?"

"Y-yeah, of course- I-"

Expelling a deep sigh, Eret ducks his head and ensnares Snotlout into a passionate kiss, no longer wanting to talk. Despite his charm, Eret finds words difficult at times and sometimes actions speak far more clearly in certain situations.

Snotlout doesn't seem to mind, the shorter gladly returning the kiss with just as much vigour.

There is something about kissing Snotlout that feels very filling, like eating your heart out after months of rationing on a ship. Perhaps he's been starving this whole time. Even after all these years a freedom, there's still a hole in his gut but it doesn't feel so empty right now, with Snotlout's hands on his chest, lips on his lips, heart on his heart.

Perhaps this is truly freedom.

"My turn," Eret whispers against his lips, delving his fingers beneath Snotlout's shirt and feeling the hot skin beneath.

"Wait," Snotlout breathes, taking hold of his wrists, and Eret looks down at him with an almost anxious look, afraid that he's going too fast with this, despite that being what Snotlout wanted.

Snotlout swallows thickly, eyes blue and uneasy as they flicker between Eret's face and his hands, half hidden beneath his vest. The skin there feels strange and oddly familiar though, he can't quite pinpoint what, but his fingers move briefly over raised marks.

"Just... don't ask questions or... Give me any pity, okay? Just... Ignore them,"

Them? Ignore what? And pity? Eret isn't a pitying man, he knows how weak it makes you feel, he'd be a hypocrite to do so. But why would Snotlout warrant any pity? He doesn't quite understand, but he does as he's told and doesn't ask any questions.

"Alright," he agrees with an honest voice and Snotlout then nods his head, lower lip caught between his teeth.

Eret takes hold of the hem of Snotlout's shirt and pulls it off, discarding it behind him before turning back to the Rider.

At first, he doesn't react at all. Not physically, anyway. But his mind screams-

Oh Gods, oh Gods, there's so much, they're everywhere, oh Gods, how is he alive? No one could survive this, he's a corpse, oh Gods he's been kissing a dead man because no one could possibly survive this!

Snotlout's entire torso is the home of hundreds, and by the Gods, he means hundreds, of ivory scars. They're all raised and twisted and cruel-looking, like crooked grins etched into his skin that mock and laugh. They shine against the candlelight and most of them are so overlapped, that they look like just one awfully huge scar. These are lashes, whip lashes, Eret is all too familiar with these scars for he has his own set on his back but nothing like this. Nothing like this graveyard that resides upon Snotlout's flesh.

Drago gave him fifteen lashes and a branding that day, as well as a thorough beating from his henchmen. Since then, Eret had been able to avoid punishment and failure out of pure dread of what would happen if he failed again. Perhaps this is what would've happened, perhaps he would've mauled and marred and... Marked.

He wants to ask who (what) did this to you? Why did they do this? When? How are you still alive? How are you still standing with the weight of the scars that mark you?

But he says none of these things because Snotlout asked him to and even if he'd been given permission to, his breath has been stolen from him anyways. He cannot simply ignore them, though. These hundred echoes of a hundred agonies, if scars could speak, they would be screaming. How are you not screaming? How are you still so brave?

Eret steps forth and Snotlout's eyes, hauntingly bright, stare at him with a hidden shame within them that Eret sees clearly. He nearly mistakes that shame for his own. Lowering his head, he kisses Snotlout's shoulder and licks along a nasty scar that bends over his shoulder to his back. He makes the mistake of opening his eyes and he sees that there are a hundred more vicious wounds defacing his back. He could be sick, he really could be, that's why he closes his eyes again.

"Eret," Snotlout gasps, blunt teeth biting down onto that raised line as hands map out and feel along the almost inhuman terrain of Snotlout's body.

Eret touches each scar with a great tenderness, devoting his hands to the gentle caresses along his chest and stomach, his sides and back. All scarred, all layered with the ghosts of torture because what else could this be? There's nothing worse than this, Eret thinks, death is kinder than this. He kisses the thick scars criss-crossed on Snotlout's chest and massages the sunken marring on his waist and sides with his hands, trying to get Snotlout to understand that he's here to touch him softly, gently, tenderly.

You will not be harmed here, he reassures with his lips against his scar-streaked collarbone, I will hold you right now and will only let you go if you ask me to, he promises with his hands pressed against his mauled spine.

"Eret, can we..." The request goes unsaid, but Eret understands and finally decides that Snotlout has waited long enough. They both have.

Wrapping his arms under his thighs, Eret easily lifts Snotlout off his feet and his heart grows with the shocked sound Snotlout makes as he circles his thick arms around his neck. Eret chuckles and Snotlout lets out a breathy laugh, cursing him quietly. After a few steps, he gently lies him onto the bed and crawls over him, their noses touching as Eret settles between his legs. Their clothed erections press against each other and they simultaneously groan, that hot want kindling again in their guts.

With Snotlout beneath him, Eret feels that power again.

"I'm gonna make you feel so good," Eret promises headily against his mouth, hands fiddling with hem of Snotlout's trousers.

"You better get on with it then," Snotlout growls, baring his teeth before diving in for a violent kiss and Eret takes this as his final warning.

In an almost animalistic fashion, he tears Snotlout's trousers and underclothes off in one powerful tug and grins into the kiss at the surprised sound Snotlout makes in his throat. And that grin only grows when he wraps his hand around Snotlout's cock, the Rider breaking the kiss with a gasp as Eret skilfully pulls him apart. Bless him, he tries to hold it in with clenched teeth and pressed lips but the sounds still resonate through his throat and, though they are muffled, they are terribly pretty.

The sounds he pulls from him are almost enough for Eret to go over the edge himself to be honest, he's never heard such surrender in his life. But he made a promise to fuck Snotlout and he isn't going to let this opportunity pass him by because he can't control himself. With one last tug, Eret releases Snotlout and silences that arguing whine with an encouraging press of his fingers against his mouth, leathery pads brushing against the scabbed lips. Snotlout, quick to understand, opens his mouth and swallows two of Eret’s digits and its an image that he couldn’t have come up with even in his most wildest dreams. Yet here it is, here he is, atop a mad rival with his fingers delving down his throat as he makes the most lewd noises Eret has ever heard. Gods, he can feel those sounds.

After a steamy moment, Eret replaces his now-slick fingers with an open-mouthed kiss and brings his hand down to Snotlout’s entrance. His finger slips in nice and easy, causing Snotlout to groan lowly as pulls back from the kiss, spit on his lips while he tucks his head into Eret's throat, biting and kissing passionately.

"Good, yeah?" Eret murmurs with a wicked grin, adding another finger, and he can feel how hot Snotlout's skin gets as he nods into the crook of his neck.

He gasps, high-pitched and pretty, hips rising as Eret hooks his fingers inside him, teeth digging into his shoulder in an attempt to stop himself from voicing his pleasure.

And again, he is full of this incredible power as he pumps his fingers inside him, watching Snotlout sharply as he drops his head back down to the furs with a strangled moan. He pulls his lower lip with his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut, like the pleasure is bordering on agony. It's not enough, he needs more, and who is Eret to deny him that?

Once he's satisfied with how loose he is, Eret rises onto his knees and unties the strings of his trousers, pulling out his heavy cock with an apprehensive rumble in his chest. His blood bubbles like boiling water and he feels feral when he looks at Snotlout, sprawled below him with this vulnerability bared freely. He trusts you, he's baring his throat to you, Gods, he asking you to tear it out and you would, you will, you'd do it again and again only if he asked you to and he's laying here, asking!

Eret, hungry like a winter-born beast, takes hold of the back Snotlout's thighs and presses his muscled legs to his flushed chest, putting his weight on them at he leans over him. Snotlout's eyes are stunningly bright and he gazes deep into them, looking, searching, hunting. He's never wanted something so much in his life and by God's, if Snotlout lets him do this it just might kill him.

"Snotlout," he says his name softly, contrasting the hard grip on his thighs, the starved look in his eyes, the urgent press of his cock.

It's a question. Can I do this? Will you let me take your body, take your throat, take your heart? Can I touch you like you're a forgotten god who wasn't worshipped as you should've been? Can I do that? Will you let me?

And Snotlout sighs, deep and honest, like an answer. Yes, yes, yes. Forever yes.

With a blaze in his veins, Eret presses his hips forward and the overwhelming feeling of hot, wet, tight strikes him dumb for a few moments, black stars dancing in his eyes as he presses his forehead against Snotlout's. He vaguely registers his own drawn out moan as he stares, awe-struck, at the open-mouthed and closed-eyed expression on Snotlout's face. It is a look of pure, blinding bliss that looks so damn pretty on this irritating, fire-blooded Viking Warrior that has been Hel-bent on frustrating him beyond all belief. It is burned into his memory for all time and he begs that he'll remember it when he dies.

"Fuck," Eret gasps lowly, fingers flexing around the muscle on Snotlout's under thighs as he bottoms out, their hips connecting as if they've become one person.

In a moment of curiosity, he looks down and his panting breath is stolen once more as he sees Snotlout's thighs. Ripped and raised with scars. In a moment where he forgets everything else, he sits back and let's Snotlout's legs stretch out alongside his hips, fully revealing the extent of the scarring. Snotlout, still gasping from the fullness of Eret's cock buried inside him, has yet to realise what he has noticed.

Eret runs his hands up and down those marred thighs with a doting gentleness that he feels they've been starved of. He's never seen someone so damaged before, it looks like someone tore him apart and left him alone with nothing but a ball of string and a blunt needle, left him alone to sew himself whole again. Curling a hand around Snotlout's ankle, he lifts his leg till it's on his shoulder and kisses tenderly at the also scarred tissue of his calf, as if someone had repeatedly struck the back of his legs with a sharp-sided stick.

"Ere-" It's the beginning of a complaint, bitter and angry, but Eret easily cuts it off with a few shallow thrusts of his hips, still kissing his ankle and calf.

Snotlout tilts his head back, an almost shocked keen jumping from his throat as Eret rocks into him, still being gentle as not to cause any discomfort. Though, he can't lie, it's hard for him not pound violently into the gorgeous heat that's making his gut coil and spine shake. Snotlout wants it violent, wants it dirty and foul and angry, but Eret, as stated, doesn't do hate sex and no amount of surprised punches or provoking jeering will ever change that. He's a gentleman.

"Fuck- harder,"

Or he was a gentlemen, because there is something about Snotlout begging Eret to fuck him harder that brings out a ferocious thing from deep within. A gentleman, still, but there is something wild inside him that Snotlout has tapped into.

Eret covers Snotlout's body with his, knee to his chest and leg over his shoulder as he fucks deep and hard into him. It's like there’s nothing but this outrageous hunger churning in his gut and Snotlout is this gorgeous feast sprawled out just for him, like he's this deer with its neck open and Eret is this ravenous wolf.

And being this hungry dog, Eret takes his teeth to Snotlout's throat and feels the thrumming of blood beneath his tongue. Snotlout moans and writhes and pants, one hand balled in the furs and the other curled around his nape, tangled in his loose hair. The room is full of the sound of slapping skin and dirty moans and desperate breaths, the bed creaking slightly underneath it all. It is the sound of sex, of pleasure, of primal desire.

"So fucking good, Snotlout, so fucking good," Eret growls into Snotlout's hot skin as he fucks firm into the Rider, his muscles burning and skin glistening with sweat.

"Oh fuuuuck," Snotlout drawls out in a loud moan, eyes rolling and mouth snarling, and it takes Eret a moment to realise that he came, sudden and hard, between their bodies.

"Oh fuck, fuck, oh Gods, Eret," he babbles breathlessly, body shivering and flushed and limp as Eret continues to pound zealously into him, his own climax rushing him as he's enveloped in this unimaginable tightness.

"I'm gonna-" Snotlout doesn't give him time to finish, his strong hands clutching fiercely at the hair on the back of head and dragging his face down to his.

"Yeah, yeah, go on, give it to me, fuck, Eret, cum inside me you fucking bastard," Snotlout pants wantonly, lips pressed against his in a not-quite-kiss, bright, teary eyes gazing into his with this feral madness that, for the smallest second, scares Eret.

Briefly, he thinks, oh no, I've made a fool's mistake and put my dick in crazy.

But it snaps out of mind as his orgasm leaps upon him and all he can do is groan against Snotlout's open-mouthed grin, body trembling as he ruts through this mind-numbing climax. His body is on fire and Gods he's dying, living has never felt this good, nothing has ever felt this damn good.

It feels like hours, but it must have only been a few minutes, before the wildfire in his veins simmers down and Eret is half collapsed on top of Snotlout, elbows planted besides his head and chest pressed against his, their hearts singing to each other as they wallow in the afterglow.

He opens his eyes and stares, half in disbelief, half in awe, at the foreign expression on Snotlout’s face. Eret is used to the quirked grin during dinner or the irritated scowl that is commonly directed at him, the quiet sternness seen in serious moments or, though he has only seen it briefly, the unbridled bloodlust that breaks through on the battlefield. But the face below him now is neither of these, nor one of the recently discovered faces of Snotlout (madness, rage, lust, mad-lust, shame), it is something that Eret can only name as pure, unfiltered content and it suits him terribly well, especially with that bright flush on his cheeks and those shimmering tearstains streaking down the sides of his face. Perhaps, perhaps this is the prettiest thing; dream-like, gold-kissed, gently-touched.

Eret falls to the bed besides Snotlout with a satisfied exhale, feeling good and warm on both the inside and outside, like there is a candle kindled within him. He doesn’t trouble himself with the thoughts of tomorrow or of repercussions because he is simply far too tired for such thoughts, there’s no need to ruin a good moment while you’re having one. It’s the same kind of tired that you get after a big meal and he certainly has feasted tonight.

Lazily, he turns his head to Snotlout and there is this sudden, unspeakable feeling in his chest when he looks at him, eyes closed and lips parted, not asleep but just… resting, with no guard or façade protecting his features. Again, it’s Snotlout saying he trusts him and Eret has no idea how he earned that trust but he’s not a fool, he won’t throw that trust away. Perhaps this is Snotlout handing him an olive branch, saying in this crazy, sexy way of his that he doesn’t hate him, that they can be friends. Passionate friends are better than bitter rivals.

And Eret falls asleep like that, watching the steady movement of Snotlout’s chest, counting the wicked scars on his ribs, devouring the image of those split lips that Eret can still taste in the back of his mouth (blood, iron, lightning).

Later that night, Eret is woken by the sound of moving feet and ruffling clothes. The dream of cracked ice and calloused hands and a bleeding heart quickly slip from his memory like smoke through his hands but the sluggishness of sleep clings to him longingly, so much so that he struggles simply to open his eyes. When he does, it’s dark and shadowy, the candles all snuffed out, and he has difficultly trying to identify the source of those sounds. He pats his hand onto the other side of the bed, expecting to feel Snotlout’s body, but there are only disturbed furs laying there. Ah, he understands.

“Snotlout?” He slurs into the dark, sleep heavy on his mind, and the noises stop suddenly.

When his eyes finally adjust to the darkness, he’s met with the shadow-touched figure of Snotlout stood beside his bed, trousers on and tunic in hand, pale eyes watching him. He swears they were blue, they’ve always been blue, but right now, gods, they look like they’re white and glowing, like an animal’s eyes catching the moonlight, like two stars standing side by side. Eyes shouldn’t be so bright yet so haunted, they’re like ghost eyes.

“Are you a ghost?” He wants to ask, because he should be, with all those scars, he should be dead and maybe he did die but he’s lost, doesn’t know if he belongs in Valhalla or Hel because he’s got the heart of a warrior but the mind of a mad man.

“What you doing?” He asks instead, because Snotlout is no ghost, Eret has cradled his heart and held his body. You cannot touch ghosts, it’s a well-known fact.

“Go back to sleep, Eret,” Snotlout says and there is a faint softness in his voice that he almost misses, the biting tone his name is usually spat with now replaced with this indulgent whisper that sounds, not warm, but not cold either. Lukewarm.

“Where you going?” Eret murmurs back, rubbing the sleep-dust from his left eye as he watches the shorter tighten the strings of his trousers with the other.

“Home,” Snotlout replies back bluntly, that warmer voice iced down back to its cold familiar self, and Eret groans tiredly.

“It’s not even dawn, come back to bed,” He reasons, voice still deep and hoarse from sleep, his words barely coherent.

He hears Snotlout sigh frustratedly and vaguely sees the harsh rise and fall of his broad shoulders, eyes closed and face pinched in irritation. He’s reacting as if Eret’s just proposed the most outrageous offer to him and it rises the smallest amount of annoyance in him, but he’s far too tired to fully register the feeling, let alone act upon it, so instead he follows the negotiation route. Which will be poor due to his lethargic state, but he’s persuasive and has bargained tougher trades while drunk.

“Don’t be a git,” He murmurs, patting the empty space beside him, “Come. Sleep,”

“Shut up, sailor,” Snotlout grunts with no bite in his voice, just tiredness, “Shut up and go to sleep,”

With a sudden swell of courage and frustration, Eret leans across the bed and takes Snotlout’s hand into, his grip loose enough for Snotlout to pull from if he really wants to but tight enough to show he’s being sincere, even if he’s just half-asleep. Both of their hands are calloused from gruelling battles and hard labour and strenuous training and he can feel the rigid patches of old burn scars on Snotlout’s palm, a common marking found on this island where everyone rides a fire-breathing beast. Even Eret’s got his own collection.

“Snotlout,” His voice comes out soft and meaningful, “Come back to bed,”

And Snotlout stares down at him with those eyes, those moon-drowned eyes, and it’s a stern, searching look, the same look he makes when he’s trying to figure out if an enemy is either being truthful or deceptive and Eret has yet to see Snotlout’s perception (or gut) to be proven wrong. Even in this half-awoken state, Eret feels his skin crawl and there’s a coldness in his chest, like his soul is retracting from the stark, glacial stare, he feels like he’s being judged. Is this what it’s like to be judged by a ghost?

Snotlout closes his eyes (much to Eret’s relief) and expels a long sigh through his flaring nostrils, faintly resembling Hookfang when he blows smoke from his nose. When he opens his eyes again, they’re blue and Eret is far too tired to think about it. But his heart leaps gleefully when he feels Snotlout squeeze his hand and Eret squeezes back unconsciously.

“Budge,” Snotlout orders, jutting his chin towards him, but Eret, so full of pride that he past Snotlout’s cunning gaze and convinced him to come back to sleep, is already tugging the shorter onto the bed.

“Oi!” Snotlout tries to abject, but by the time he starts his head is already being pressed against the curve of the sailor’s neck and Eret has already wrapped his arms around his waist and side, both of them lying chest to chest, both of their hearts giggling together.

“Shut up, rider,” Eret grumbles sleepily, pressing his proud grin into the tasselled hair on Snotlout’s head, “Shut up and go to sleep,”

Soon Eret feels arms reluctantly swathing around his ribcage, as if their cradling the cage of his heart, and then a face nestling against his throat, it almost feels like a tender mouth ready to rip it out. Again, he hears Snotlout sigh and its neither tired nor irritated, it’s a content sigh, a gentle exhale. Eret lightly brushes his knuckles over the warm skin of Snotlout’s shoulder in an easing gesture, a voiceless lullaby, and despite his sleepiness, he does this even after Snotlout has fallen asleep.

Eret just lies there on this quiet night, feeling Snotlout’s heart beating against his, feeling very full, very whole, very free.

[angeltannis]

Mechrogunner: A Headcanon Masterpost

@fudgeroach and I have been cookin’ this ship up for a bit now, and we’ve come up with a bunch of ideas for it that I’m finally ready to post!

Background for context: We both headcanon Moze as a he/him transmasc, so that’s how Moze will be referred to in this post.

So, Gaige and Moze.

How do they meet?

-Pretty simple – at the Wainlock wedding. Moze hasn’t been out just relaxing and having a good time in so long that he stays later than pretty much everyone else. When he’s finally ready to call it a night, he goes up to Hammerlock to let him know. Hammerlock casts a glance over at the bar, where Gaige is practically passed out on the counter by that point, and asks if Moze would be willing to check on her for him. Moze is like “Uhhh...okay...”, not really getting why Hammerlock himself couldn’t just check on her.

Hammerlock, of course, has an agenda, trying to set Gaige up with a friend her own age. He didn’t plan on it going much, much further than that, lol.

Moze sits awkwardly down beside her and is all business, just asking her bluntly if she’s all right. Gaige, flirty drunk that she is, immediately latches on to him, telling him he’s great and that she loves him. Moze internally is like 😳 but acknowledges it’s because she’s drunk. He stays with her for a while, keeping it light, talking about their respective robot BFFs and telling her a couple funny old army stories to keep her awake and with it until she sobers up a little.

Both of them are so lonely that by the end of the night they are definitely both nursing lil crushes, but Moze has thick walls around his heart after what happened to his squad mates, and he’s too traumatized to let anyone in at the moment. When they finally part ways that night, he assumes he’ll never see Gaige again.

Then he gets a text from an unfamiliar number. Turns out Gaige got his number from Hammerlock, and has ““questions about Iron Bear””. (She actually does have questions about Iron Bear because she’s a fucking nerd, but make no mistake, she is definitely interested in both mech AND pilot)

Moze hasn’t been in this kind of position in, well, ever, really. He’s not sure what to do. He really likes talking to Gaige, though – she's stunningly smart, wild and funny as hell. He’s never met a woman like her before. He may not have a clue what she’s talking about half the time, but he sure does love hearing her say it all.

Gaige, on the other hand, is immediately and blatantly smitten with Moze. She tends to develop crushes on pretty much anyone who pays her attention, but Moze was so sweet and gentle with her while she was embarrassingly drunk that Gaige finds herself thinking about him long after they part ways.

The dating stage:

Moze is terrified of opening back up to anybody, so he keeps Gaige at arm’s length even as their texting goes from occasional, to frequent, to most of the day every day. The other Raiders encourage Moze to ask Gaige on a date, but he’s nowhere near ready for that kind of commitment.

When Gaige asks him to bring Iron Bear to her lab-slash-hideout so she can “check him out”, he tells himself and everyone else that it’s just a friend thing.

It’s totally not a friend thing oh God

He’s hanging out in her garage (I imagine Gaige hides out in some craphole abandoned building somewhere and that her garage is also her lab, kitchen, bedroom, etc.), watching her eyes light up as she examines Iron Bear when he realizes he’s in too deep to get out. She pulls a whole-ass little measuring tape out of her hair at one point and he’s like Oh god, you’re adorable and has to bite his tongue to refrain from saying it out loud.

Deathtrap is just watching them, aware that something is up, but he doesn’t know enough about humans to know exactly what it is

The first time Moze feels comfortable enough to show up in something other than his freaking Ursa Corps uniform, he’s a little shy because he’s been chopping at his own hair and feels like a doofus. To his surprise, Gaige lights up and immediately starts complimenting his “punk” hairstyle. She lets her own hair out of the pigtails with a grin, showing that she hacks at her own hair as well. It’s all split ends and uneven layers, and Moze’s heart flutters just a bit as those bright green eyes are suddenly framed by a mess of bouncy orange hair.

While he’s hanging out with Gaige, Moze eventually comes out of his shell enough to start cracking little jokes and feeling a bit more at ease. He hasn’t felt this way since the last night he spent with his squad before Darzaran Bay. Gaige is just so easy to talk to, and she laughs at his jokes and doesn’t pry about his past. He doesn’t pry about hers, either, though he can glean from her current situation that something has clearly gone horribly wrong in her young life.

Gaige is afraid to let anyone into her life, either, since every person who knows her whereabouts is another potential source of danger to her (and to them). She finds herself wondering why this soldier is all alone without a squadron or a battalion or whatever terms the army uses. The faraway look Moze sometimes gets tells her there’s a long and painful story behind it.

It takes a loooooong time, probably close to a year or more, before either of them are ready to admit they’re not just visiting each other as friends multiple times a week. 

They’re sitting outside one evening watching the sunset when Gaige grows uncharacteristically serious. Moze assumes she’s going to confess to some awful crime or something, and his first reaction is “Okay I don’t know what you did but I forgive you and I’ll help you hide the body”. Gaige is like ??? Ok well I did kill somebody in the past but I was actually going to ask if I could kiss you?

Neither of them have ever really had a proper kiss before. They basically end up bonking their faces together like a couple of clueless dorks. It goes on to become a favorite inside joke between them, with the two of them frequently headbutting each other and then having a good, confusing-to-everyone-else laugh about it.

The relationship:

-Moze is self conscious about his height, but it turns out Gaige actually prefers it because then she doesn’t feel like such a shrimp herself. Short couple rights

-Still though, Moze likes to wear his chunkiest combat boots when they’re together together so they’re at least equal size. Eventually Gaige starts wearing her own old combat boots, though, so poor Moze can’t win lol

-They’re not real sappy out in public, but they’re always either holding hands or Moze has an arm loosely around Gaige’s waist (or vice versa which makes Moze go “NOO I’m supposed to be the one doing that!!” And Gaige is like “Muahaha, Feminism Babey >:D”)

-Gaige found out Moze has a corporate tattoo and since then his life has never known peace (she teases him about it relentlessly)

-Moze sends lovey-dovey memes and texts...exclusively in Russian. Forcing Gaige to put them through a translator helps put a little bit of distance between the words and his feelings, so he doesn’t feel quite so vulnerable...

…But then Gaige struggles to learn some basic Russian in secret, and the next time Moze says something corny she can actually understand it and responds in kind. Moze is floored

-Gaige is a ball of repressed horny nerdiness. Moze was never very sexual to begin with, and his trauma has basically turned him completely asexual. While at first Gaige was (inwardly) a bit disappointed, as time goes on she realizes she cares way more about Moze than she cares about getting laid.

She’s still a slut for cuddles, though – and luckily Moze is willing to provide. At first he insists on being the “big spoon” (more like the backpack), but it’s tough to resist being held by a pretty girl who covers you in kisses and takes the time to change into her non-spiked metal arm after that one time she forgot and almost got you in the eye with a spike

-Gaige sleeps in a bed that’s FULL of pillows and blankets and stuffed animals and anything soft and Moze, who is used to sleeping on a barren military cot if not just on the floor, is like “Oh God, I’m drowning”

All you see is his hand reaching desperately out of a pillow pile before it, too, is absorbed and he disappears completely

-Semi-related to the last bit: Gaige sleeps completely sprawled out in her bed while Moze curls up tight, taking up as little space as possible. Occasionally he gets grabbed like a stuffed animal and smushed up against Gaige’s chest in her sleep. He finds he actually likes being held while he sleeps. It helps keep away some of the nightmares.

-When eventually Gaige finds out what happened to Moze, she starts ranting about the military-industrial complex and corporate corruption and Moze is kinda 😥 because he was basically bottle-fed army propaganda since he was born, but it all makes sense, and the military did fuck him over, and maybe there’s so much more to this than he even realized…

-Finding out Gaige’s backstory, Moze is like “Psh, Marcie Halloway sounds like a cunt. I would’ve killed her ass, too.”

-Moze never allows anyone else to even look inside Iron Bear’s pilot seat because of all his private belongings (ie the photos and mementos he keeps of his old squad mates). Gaige never outright asks because she knows it’s personal, but one day Moze asks if she'd like to have a look inside and see if there’s any cool stuff she would want to build into Bear. Gaige realizes that’s a huge step in their relationship because of how much trust it requires on Moze’s part, and she is like !!! “Yes of COURSE”

-[Gaige voice] So when am I gonna get to be Mrs. Gaige Hayussinian Yan-Lun Al-Amir Andreyevna?

-Both of them will eat anything, so romantic dinners can consist of anything from actual gourmet food to “Want a bite of my fried ratch?” “Um, obviously?? Gimme-“

-Perks of dating someone your own size: You can easily wear each other’s clothes. Cue Moze showing up to Sanctuary in a spiked leather jacket with patches shittily ironed on all over it, and Gaige keeping warm in an Ursa Corps bomber jacket (that she covers with patches and stickers to hide the Vladof advertising)

-Gaige operating Moze’s Dakka Bear turret, wildly spraying bullets and screaming catch phrases while Moze is in the pilot seat like 🥰 You’re wasting all my ammo but god I love you

-Moze jumping into combat: All right, let’s do this shit *puts on his helmet with pink skulls and hearts and PROPERTY OF GAIGE 💜 spray painted all over it*

-Gaige is still worried about being caught by the cops, which can make dates a little difficult, but she’s admittedly a little more at ease now that she travels with a fifteen-ton mech and his dashing pilot.

[clairecrive]

“All the time in the world”- Bob Saginowski x reader

I’m honestly so happy with the response of the Bronson piece! I love you guys so much <3 so here’s a little Bob fluff that never hurts. Also, this is my first time writing him so if he sounds a little bit off that’s why. 

Tag list: @mollybegger-blog​, @br0ck-eddie​, @of-love-and-of-the-sea​, @evelynshelby​, @deaflikehawkeye​, @shadow-of-wonder​, @fandom--0verdose​, @sopxhiea​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @fuseburner​ (let me know if you wanna be added or removed)

You did it. You finally had sex with him. You had only been going out for a while, a couple of weeks, maybe a month. However, you had known Bob for way longer. You were a regular at his bar, either with your groups of friends or by yourself. That would be the case in which you had met Bob, well you actually had talked to him. When you were tipsy, you tended to marvel about the stupidest things out loud. Bob thought you were amusing and decided to humour you. That had led to a really long talk and long walk home since you were drunk and he refused to let you go home alone. Then one night when you were there on your own, he told you that his shift had ended early and asked if you wanted to grab a bite with him.

From that moment you began unofficially dating. You would see each other every other day and not only at the bar where he worked. Then after the third date, before you could climb off his pick up, he kissed you sealing the deal. Seems like you were dating then. 

You would be lying if you said that you didn’t like him. Well, of course you did, otherwise, you wouldn’t be dating him. However, your feelings were shifting from “like” to something more. And that bothered you to no end. You didn’t get attached to boys. Especially those who you had been seeing for less than a month. Nothing good ever comes from that. You were a pro at hiding your feelings. Been doing it for so long that you felt now unable to suppress these feelings any longer. 

That was going to be a problem.

 It was way too soon to feel like you did and even sooner to let him know. But you couldn’t go on this way anymore. Seemed like the sex only brought it up and made it impossible for you to ignore. You were laying down next to him, Bob had dozed off and your mind had gone wild. Suddenly, it was all becoming too much for you and you felt like you needed to leave. Without giving it a second thought, you began to pick up your clothes and got dressed quickly. 

When you were about to leave his room, something made you stop and look at him. Sprawled over the sheets half-naked, his face restful and peaceful, he looked so innocent. Bob had always been good to you and this was how you were going to repay him? By acting like one of those assholes in those rom coms that you hated? You couldn’t leave like this and you knew it. You owed him at least to tell him something. So, before leaving, you looked for a pen and a piece of paper and left him a note. 

“I need to sort myself out and think things through. Last night was amazing though. Don’t take this personally because you have done nothing wrong.”

Those were the words that met Bob when he opened his eyes. Waking up to an empty and cold bed wasn’t what he was expecting and your words left him even more dumbfounded. Despite what you said, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had done something wrong. Furrowing his eyebrows, he quickly went through your time spent together. He was totally clueless though because he genuinely thought that everything was going great between you. Apparently, he had been blind because they were not. He wondered if he needed to give you some space but thought against it. The only way to solve this was by talking things through. Even if it meant breaking up. So he got dressed quickly and headed over your house. After climbing the stairs of your patio, he was about to ring the bell when your voice met his ears. It came from the back of the house. Walking towards it, he stopped just before he came into view when he overheard something interesting.

“So you left him in bed, after your first time together, because you’re afraid?” Your friend's Nadia incredulous voice met his ears.

“I know, I know, I’m a terrible person.” You groaned but your voice came out muffled and peeking from his hideout, he saw that you hid it in your palms.

“I’m sorry but I don’t understand, what are you afraid of?”

“Haven’t you heard a word I said?” Now it was you who was incredulous. It seemed like you two had been talking for a while.

“I did but it’s all bullshit it you ask me.” Nadia sassed earning a glare from you.

“I can’t tell him how I feel Nadia, I’ll scare him away.” you sighed sounding defeated.

“Well, I think you’ve already accomplished that by running away after sex,” she pointed out and when she received your you’re not helping look, she continued, “you should talk to him y/n, really. It’ll solve everything.”

“I know, I know that communication is the key to every healthy relationship but I… I just can’t.” Shaking your head you let it hang from the backrest of the swing you were sitting on.

“Talking to him means that I need to explain why I left and that would lead to my feelings for him, which he can’t know about yet,” you continued sighing, eyes looking up to the sky.

“You had no problem talking about it with me,” Nadia pointed out scrolling her shoulders.

“Are you dumb? That’s different,” you retorted snapping your head in her direction, “if I tell him that I think I love him, he’ll run away!” exclaiming, your expression resembled one of those teachers after they had repeated the same thing for the hundredth time and their students still weren’t grasping it. “It’s been three weeks Nadia, it’s way too soon for the “L” word,” defeated your head went back on the backrest. “Besides, who’s to say that he’s even looking for a serious relationship? He’s really busy with work, he has a lot on his plate right now.” You didn’t believe that. Bob could hear it in your tone and so could Nadia. Both knew you very well.

“Bob doesn’t strike me as someone who’s seeking a one night stand or something temporary.” And in fact, he wasn't. Everyone who knew him was aware of that. It was as plain as day even for Nadia that didn’t know Bob that well.

“Maybe I should just put both of us out of our misery and break up with him,” was your totally unrelated consideration. 

“Are you out of your mind? God, what does your mind tell you? You’re in love with the guy and you want to break up with him?” Bob shook his head at your total illogical thought process while Nadia looked completely confused by you. She was having none of it, what the hell.

“This is not what I signed for when we started dating, Nadia. This got way too serious way too fast,” looking at her you defended yourself. “Look at me! I’m here worrying about a guy when I promised myself I never was going to again.”

“Bob’s not the problem here. For all we know, he could be in love with you too and be heartbroken that you run away-” Nadia wasn’t able to finish her sentence.

“Please,” you scoffed, “have you met me? Why would he love me? And stop saying that I’ve run away, I’ve left him a note,” huffing out annoyed at your friend, both of them knew that they were getting closer to the true motive of your actions.

“-what I think it’s the problem here is you and your inability to let yourself go and feel your emotions instead of repressing them,” now it was her time to interrupt you.

“I hate that you know me so well,” you whisper under your breath, “I just- I don’t want to put myself in that vulnerable position again where he can hurt me.” And here it is, thought Bob. This was the problem then.

“Everyone’s bound to get hurt once in a while y/n, that’s life. And you ought to live it to the fullest and not repress every feeling and avoid any deep connection. You’re missing out on a lot, plus, it’s not healthy,” Nadia observed with wisdom that Bob would have never associated with her. But she had a point.

“If you think that it’s too soon to confess your feelings for him then don’t. Show him instead,” she added when you didn’t say anything.

“I’ve been doing that for the past week. Smothering him with kisses and affection, romantic dinners and shit that I’ve always despised in movies. I went over his bar often and stuff. He probably thinks I’m clingy now and he’s fed up with me,” you confessed listing with the help of your fingers.

“Sounds to me you just stopped being distant and started being a loving girlfriend,” Nadia commented with a patronizing smile. “Oh, and he probably already knows too. He’s very attentive and he knows you so…” Scrolling her shoulders she stated what she thought was pretty obvious while she observed your face scrunch up in desperation.

“It’s only been three weeks goddammit, why am I feeling this way?”

“Time is relative y/n. Stop worrying about it too much. Couples have married after two weeks of dating.” Nadia pointed out thinking to help her case but she got the opposite reaction from you.

“That’s madness,” you spat with wide eyes. 

The two girls continued talking but Bob had heard enough. As Nadia said, he had noticed the change in behavior and despite what you thought, he had thoroughly enjoyed it. But he had also been wondering what had caused it. Now he knew. Deciding to pick up Nadia’s advice, he turned around and headed back home. He knew how to solve this. He was just going to show you.

At home, Bob prepared a nice dinner. Nothing too complicated but he knew you liked it. He wasn’t good with words and apparently neither were you when it came to your feelings. So he needed to find another way. And he thought that paying attention to the details in a way that showed how much he cared, was the right one.

Show, don’t tell.

That was what he was going to do. Since the very first time you two had eaten together, you had always been very passionate about food. Bob was a much better bartender than he was a cook, hence his occupation, but he tried anyway to deliver a delicious meal. Your favourite nonetheless. From what he’d gathered, it was best for him to take matters into his own hands. Otherwise, if he had to wait for you, he’d probably wait a long time. So he sent you a text, mentioning the homemade diner he asked if you would join him. As he predicted, you’d said yes. You’d never turn down an invitation where food was involved. That alone showed how much Bod knew you. Surely, he wouldn’t pay so much attention to someone he didn’t care about, right? He thought your reservations were fair. He understood where you were coming from. On the other hand, he thought it was very clear his stand on relationships, yours in particular. Apparently not. He was to rectify that soon though.

When dinner time came around, you parked in front of Bob’s house right on time. He had probably heard you pull up because when you walked to his door you saw that it was open and Rocco was waiting for you on the threshold.

“Hello, you handsome boy,” you cooed at his cute little face giving him some well-deserved belly rubs until you noticed that he was holding something in his mouth. Gently pulling it out of his mouth, you saw that it was a folded piece of paper. 

It said:

“Please don’t run away like that again. If you don’t talk to me then how is this going to work?”

As you let the words sink in, your eyes flickered to Rocco who was now looking at you with his head tilted to the side. The pang of guilt was impossible to avoid and you knew that this dinner wasn’t going to be like any other. 

Closing the door behind you, you made your way through the hallway that leads to the kitchen expecting to find Bob dealing with your food. And there he was.

The table was already set, two sweet-scented candles were lit and he had just set your plates down when you walked into the room. You lingered near the door for a bit, not knowing what mood he was going to be in. You had left after having sex with him after all.  Still drying his hands with a cloth, he turned to where you were standing and as if he felt your insecurity, Bob gave you a small smile. 

Feeling a little more confident in yourself you crossed the room to meet him before you’d sit down at the table. 

“Hi,” you started shyly.

“Hi, babe,” two words and he managed to make you swoon. Oh, how you loved this man.

“I’m so so sorry for this morning, I-” he didn’t let you continue and you were secretly grateful for it ‘cause you would have probably made a mess.

“I know,” he reassured you holding you gently by the waist.

“You know?” How could he possibly know?

“I get that you have reservations when it comes to relationships, I do too,” he shared putting a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You do?” If you weren’t so damn confused by what was going on, you were sure you’d have punched yourself for being so stupid.

“Of course. I have been alone for a long time. Being in a relationship after a while can be difficult.” Gently cradling your face in his hands, he added, “But I want you to know that you can always talk to me.”

“I’m scared that what I’m going to say to you will make you run away from me. And I kinda like you so I don’t want that to happen,” you confessed quietly. He was so close to you now that you could whisper and he would hear. Somehow it made it easier to talk.

“I won’t,” he promised and you believed him. Why? Good question, it’s just one of those things that you just know. 

“I just-,” how were you going to tell him? “my feelings for you scare me,” by just saying it, you figured.

“You don’t have to tell me anything right now. Just know that we can turn that fear into assurance. I and Rocco are always up for some cuddles, aren’t we buddy?” And as if on cue, Rocco barked agreeing with his favourite human. You couldn’t help but giggle in happiness, you were really a lucky gal.

“Now let’s go eat. The food is getting cold.” And with that both your minds were at ease, ready to enjoy the night together. Yes, there were some things that needed to be discussed still but you had all the time in the world for that. It seemed that neither you not Bob had any intention to leave.

[utanoprince-imagines]

Starish and Quartet Night as bungo stray dogs’ abilities

A/N: Other than utapri, I am also a huge fan of BSD, and so I thought why not write about the boys having the abilities like the characters in BSD Generally I tried to keep it to classic literature book titles and based their abilities on the title of the book.

I also decided to split the boys into team ADA and port mafia. Not sure if I should put this as my disclaimer but putting a boy in the PM does not necessarily mean he is a ‘bad’ person. My take on the ADA and PM for this scenario is that they fight for different reasons!

All in all, these are just some headcanons I have and may not be 100% accurate to the boys’ personalities or the BSD plot.

Welp, this was a lengthy a/n mainly cause I’m kinda nervous about posting these kind of stuff. But thank you for reading till the end and I hope you like it!

STARISH

Otoya:

Designation: ADA

Ability name: In Search of Lost Time (Marcel Proust)

Ability description: Ability user is able to travel up to 1 hour back into the past. Anyone who is standing within a 5-metre radius of the user will also be affected.

Otoya discovered his ability when his friend nearly cycled into the path of a bus 

Otoya looked on in shocked and desperately prayed that he could turn back time, which was what eventually happened and he managed to pull his friend to safety

Unlike the other ADA members who were recruited by Reiji, Otoya volunteered to join the agency at his own will 

Otoya is always eager to go on missions, whether he was assigned to it or not. He wants to do whatever he can to help others

He eventually trained his stamina by jogging every morning, as well as took self defence classes

Once in a while, he hangs out with Syo to play soccer (whether a not the both of them decide to use their abilities during a match is up to them) 

He looks up to Reiji a lot and is close to Tokiya 

Tokiya:

Designation: ADA

Ability name: Persuasion (Jane Austen)

Ability description: Once eye contact has been made, ability user is able to get the victim to reveal whatever secret he desires.

Tokiya stumbled across his ability when he was asking his mum what she got him for his birthday and she told him

She later admitted that she did not have the intention to reveal his gift in the first place

Tokiya initially had mixed feelings about his ability, as he was aware that some people wanted to keep certain thoughts hidden

But he later learnt how to better control his ability, and decided to use it for good

Reiji later recruited Tokiya into the ADA after having a chat with him in a cafe and Tokiya showing interest in helping with the agency

Tokiya has little to no combat skill, but to make up for it, he is extremely intelligent

Before going after an enemy, Tokiya does intense research on the person, sometimes asking Ai for help

He is then able to cause the enemy to go into a panicked state when his deepest, darkest secret is revealed

As much as possible, Tokiya avoids leaving the office and similar to Masato, he spends his free time reading as well as listening to music

Natsuki:

Designation: Port Mafia 

Ability name: Lost Illusions (Honore de Balzac)

Ability description: Ability user is able to send victim into a trance-like state, allowing user to brainwash the victim. For the ability to work, eye contact has to be made.

When he was a child, Natsuki was ordering ice cream when the man suddenly looked dizzy and said odd things

His parents later explained to him that it was an ability granted to him

Natsuki didn’t really understand it, but he was careful to not make eye contact with anyone for too long as he was aware that was what set the ability off

Growing up, he learnt how to control it and can now make eye contact with people without his ability setting off

Camus personally recruited Natsuki into the port mafia, recognising the strength of his ability if used well

Despite his tall figure, Natsuki loves cute things and is often seen bringing mini pastries to Camus’ office to eat with him (Camus appreciates that a lot)

During his off days, Natsuki enjoys catching up with his favourite TV show (Piyo chan)

He loves dotting on Syo due to his small size and enjoys putting him in ‘cute clothing’ (despite Syo’s multiple protests)

Masato:

Designation: ADA

Ability name: The Secret Garden (Frances Hodgson Burnett)

Ability description: Ability user is able to transport people to a garden which is inaccessible by outsiders. Only people within a certain radius are affected.

Masa didn't have the brightest childhood, and grew up emotionally broken

He first discovered his ability when he heard his parents fighting outside and he found himself transported to a different room 

When he finally came out of his secret room, he realised thst his parents had been searching for him, giving him a greater understanding of his ability

He uses his ability to save others from harm, but occasionally uses it as a retreat when he needs the time and space to think 

When Ren comes over to bother find him, they sometimes gather in his secret room, away from the public eye 

Masato learned how to fight with the katana to make up for his ability which lacks combat

He prefers office work and spends most of his free time reading 

Ren:

Designation: Port Mafia 

Ability name: Perfume (Patrick Suskind)

Ability description: Ability user is able to track down a person with his scent. For ability to work, a piece of clothing must be given to the user.

Ren discovered his ability when he was trying to return a lost handkerchief to a stranger who dropped it in a crowd

He took a whiff of it and immediately saw the location of the owner as well as the path he took

He was recruited into the port mafia by Natsuki when he stumbled upon him carrying out a mission

During his off days, Ren enjoys playing darts in an underground pub

He also enjoys looking for Masato from the ADA to hang out with him (also Masa might beg to differ)

What he lacks in combat, he makes up for with his ability, tracking down multiple criminals and targets with ease 

Ren is a sweet talker, and is easily able to convince target women to pass him their scarf/handkerchief for his team to track them down later 

He is often seen working with Syo, who helps with the combat side of missions

Syo:

Designation: Port Mafia 

Ability name: Fires on the Plain (Ooka Shohei)

Ability description: Ability user is able to use fire. He can also control the intensity, and how far it can spread.

Syo first discovered his ability when he was in a heated argument with a friend and accidentally set a portion of grass on fire

He then trained himself to be careful and to learn how to control his ability

Ren was the one who convinced Syo to join the port mafia, telling him that his ability would be well respected in the agency (he was right)

Syo quickly rose up the ranks in the port mafia, and is often tasked with leading missions

Syo is a very smart ability user, and knows when to use his ability to just threaten someone and when to use it to hurt someone

During his off days, he is often playing soccer with Otoya. Although he says that no abilities should be used, he sometimes uses his ability to trap Otoya within a certain space while he scores a goal

Syo admires Natsuki’s ability a lot, and enjoys working with him (although he will never admit it)

Cecil:

Designation: ADA

Ability name: The Call of the Wild (Jack London)

Ability description: Ability user is able to freely transform into a wolf on command. This ability is highly suited for combat

Cecil’s parents were the first to discover his ability when they went to wake Cecil up one morning but discovered a wolf lying in his place instead

They initially panicked but upon hearing the wolf mumbling, they realised it was just their son

Cecil was recruited by Reiji when he turned into a wolf to help sniff out for survivors in a snowstorm

Realising that they’re abilities worked well together, the both of them worked as a team a lot

Cecil is often seen training his stamina so that he could keep up with his wolf abilities

While he usually has a calm and happy personality, Cecil can become extremely violent when angry and has little control over his emotions

During off days, Cecil likes to take shelter in a high tree to read his book or listen to music

Cecil doesn’t like doing paperwork and is often seen asking Tokiya or Masato to help him (which they reluctantly agree to because Cecil is very cute)   

QUARTET NIGHT

Reiji:

Designation: ADA (leader)

Ability name: Snow Country (Yasunari Kawabata)

Ability description: Ability user is able to control snow over a certain radius. Depending on the user, light snow or a snowstorm can be summoned.

Reiji discovered his ability when he was a child and was upset that it wasn't snowing for Christmas

He ended up summoning a light snow over his house

He founded the ADA in hopes of using his ability to help others

On off duty days, Reiji uses his ability during winter festivals to make children happy by sending down snow to help them build snowman or take part in snowball fights

Reiji is not too fond of using his ability to hurt others. However if the situation calls for it, he will.

Depending on the severity of the situation, Reiji can either send heavy snow to scare the villain off or unleash a deadly snowstorm to directly hurt the villain.

The only scenario where Reiji casts a deadly storm is usually when someone he loves gets hurt.

He is often seen working with Cecil as their abilities work well together 

Reiji often uses his ability to trap the villain within a certain area, while Cecil swoops in to hold the villain down

Ranmaru:

Designation: Port Mafia (but is kind of a lone wolf) 

Ability name: In Cold Blood (Truman Capote)

Ability description: Ability user is able to leave no trace of crime committed. All evidence is wiped clean once the user leaves the crime scene.

However, much is still unknown about this ability. 

Ranmaru first discovered his ability when he devised a detailed plan to kill his friend’s stalker

When he was about to wipe off the blood on his knife, he realised it had already disappeared

He honestly did not know what to feel about his ability. He didn't exactly despise murder, but knowing that the cases remained unsolved bothered hims slightly

The only things he know about his ability is the fact that all evidence will be erased the moment he leaves the crime scene

But there is said to be more to his ability than that

He was recruited into the port mafia by Camus but with the condition that he was allowed to work alone

As he spends most of his time in his apartment, he isn't close to anyone

Ai:

Designation: ADA 

Ability name: Masks (Fumiko Enchi)

Ability description: Ability user is able to take the form of someone else. However, for this ability to work, the user needs to recognise the exact shape and form of the victim in detail.

Being a droid, Ai was programmed with the knowledge that his ability exists

His first experience with his ability was when he was people watching and accidentally morphed into a stranger he was looking at

Ai’s constant curiosity has allowed him to easily memorise the faces of others, as well as their physique

Because of that, he is a complete pro in using his ability

He was also programmed to distinguish between the right and wrongs of the world

He is fully aware of the capability his ability has to engage in wrong doings

Despite so, he chooses to only use his ability to do good

He's not a fan of fighting and prefers to write up reports and conduct interrogations in the office

He is close with Tokiya and is often seen hanging out with him

Camus:

Designation: Port Mafia (leader) 

Ability name: Phoenix (Osamu Tezuka)

Ability description: Ability user possess phoenix abilities to a certain extent, the most notable one being able to heal mortal wounds and revive selected people from the dead. 

Camus discovered his ability when he had a injury from horse riding and ended up healing himself when he hovered his hand over the sprain

He joined the port mafia as a low rank employee, but quickly worked his way up to the top due to his ability, eventually taking over the organisation 

Most of the time, he is inside his office (drinking tea) while watching over the city

He has a decent combat ability, but prefers to leave the fighting to his underlings as he felt that it was not 'royal' of him to engage in such things 

One of his known skills is the ability to revive the dead, but for this to work, the person needs to be dead for less than an hour

Camus barely uses this ability as he believes that death is inevitable, but if someone in the port mafia (or ADA because he lowkey loves them) is dead, he will not hesitate to bring them back to life

He is someone who likes working alone and is not particularly close to anyone in the organisation

[set-phasers-to-whump]

breathe in breathe out

Prompt: delayed drowning

Whumpee: Nick Burkhardt

Fandom: Grimm

hey folks what’s up!!! brief fun announcement from me i finally got my drivers license today (only about two years late but shh) and i’m very happy ab that!!! anyway i hope that you enjoy this fic, it’s set right after the events of la llorona  and i did a Lot of research about delayed drowning for it!! (did you know that they no longer refer to it as things like ‘dry drowning’ or ‘secondary drowning’? i did not you learn new things every day up in here) anyway yeah i hope you like this fic!!!

They’re both fairly exhausted after the day they’ve had. Teaming up with a not-really-FBI agent to find a murderer, learning that ghosts might actually be real, saving the lives of three kids, and losing their would-be killer tended to do that to people. But it’s Halloween (sort of), and the both of them could do with a little winding down and trying to make sense of the events of the day. 

So they’re in Hank’s living room, talking about ghosts while a scary movie plays on the TV, muted. There’s a small bowl of Halloween candy on the table in front of them, and Hank is eating a kitkat. Nick is decidedly not hungry - his throat feels sore, which he supposes is a byproduct of his time in the river. 

He coughs, suddenly, startling Hank, who drops his candy. “You good?” he asks, and Nick nods. 

“Probably just a leftover from-” he starts, but cuts himself off with another harsh cough, and then another.

“You’re sure?” Hank asks. “Those don’t sound good. Do you feel sick?”

Nick waves him off. “I’m fine,” he says, and reaches for his glass of water. He takes a sip, hoping to calm the coughing, but instead nearly chokes on it, and feels, briefly, like he’s back in the river, fighting la llorona, watching her slip away…

And then the feeling fades, and he feels Hank thump him on the back. “I’m good, I’m good,” he assures him, discarding his glass in favor of putting his hands on his knees and taking a deep breath. 

“I don’t know, man,” Hank says. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Hank,” Nick insists. “Probably just swallowed some water earlier.”

Hank doesn’t look convinced, but he stops talking about it, and Nick settles back into the couch, leaning his head against the cushion. He blinks and feels his eyes fight to remain closed. He checks the time - nearly one a.m.

“I think I should head home,” he says to Hank, who turns away from the TV and looks at him.

“You alright to drive?” he asks. “You don’t look too great.”

“I’m fine,” Nick says, for the hundredth time. “Really, I promise.”

He yawns, and once again feels his eyes slip closed for longer than they should. On the other hand, maybe he’d just fall asleep right here...Hank wouldn’t mind, right?

He decides that the answer to that question is no, and brings his legs up onto the couch, curling up as best as he can in the small space. 

“Hey, what’re you-” Hank starts, but he stops upon seeing that Nick has already fallen asleep. He sighs, muttering about how Nick better not get any dirt from his shoes on his couch. 

He doesn’t mind, though, really. Especially when he takes a good long look at Nick’s sleeping face - though being asleep has lessened the effect slightly, it’s clear Nick is absolutely exhausted. His face is paler than it normally is, and there are marks under his eyes. He’s long since changed into dry clothes, but his hair is still damp, curling slightly against his forehead as it dries. Hank gives him a smile and locates a blanket to drape over him, then turns off the TV and the lights and heads to his own bed.

--

Nick wakes up an hour or so later with a burning pain in his chest. He tries to take a deep breath to get the pain to stop, but feels it catch in his throat. He breathes in again, and feels the same result. 

A panic starts welling up under his skin as he continues to struggle to breathe - his lungs are burning and there’s no air in his body and he’s dizzy because he cannot breathe. He tries to shout for help but chokes on the words, and then coughs, and then he’s coughing again, like before, only unlike before because he can’t stop. He keeps coughing without a breath in between, and every cough feels like it’s tearing its way out of his lungs and his throat, and he can taste the river on the back of his tongue, and he doesn’t know what this is or why it is happening and he still can’t breathe. 

He tries to stand up, knowing that he has to get somewhere, find someone, but the second his body leaves the couch he’s pitching forward and he’s still coughing and he thinks he is never going to stop, and then - 

Then there is a pair of arms wrapping around him, easing him to the floor, and he still can’t breathe, can’t breathe, can’tbreathe, and he reaches out a desperate hand which wildly misses its mark. 

He hears, over the sound of his own coughing, Hank’s voice, and he is saying something but not to Nick. He can’t understand what it is Hank is saying, and he can’t see him, either - the force of each cough is making his eyes water so badly the world is nothing but a fuzzy blur, so he knows Hank is there, but he doesn’t know where and he can’t think or process what is happening, but he is afraid and he can’t stop coughing and his chest is on fire. He wants Hank, and tries his best to call out for him. 

And then Hank is there, and his hands are on Nick’s shoulders and he’s saying something to Nick this time, but Nick still can’t hear, still can’t see Hank beyond a vague smattering of colors and light. Cough after cough tears its way out of him and he reaches out a hand yet again. 

This time, it hits its mark, and Hank’s hand wraps around his own, steady and warm, and he says something against the side of Nick’s head which Nick still can’t hear, and then Nick is aware that he is being moved, and then something thumps him in the chest and he coughs somehow even more harshly than before, and then his body instinctively turns to the side and he coughs up a small amount of water which burns horribly, and then he coughs a few more times, and then, all of a sudden, it stops. 

He takes a shallow breath, and then another. He feels himself being moved again, and something in his brain recognizes the motion - recovery position, he thinks, and then there is a hand between his shoulder blades and Hank’s voice, again, and Nick can actually hear him this time. 

“It’s okay, Nick, you’re okay,” he is saying, but he sounds scared, and Nick is scared, still unsure of what exactly had happened to him and why it had stopped and if it was going to start again. He feels himself start to cry, his eyes which had just been starting to clear up fogging over again, and he takes a shuddering breath that burns but doesn’t make him cough. He wants to ask what happened, but his throat feels like he’s swallowed a bucket of nails and crying is already aggravating it enough. 

He feels the hand leave his back then, and makes a completely involuntary noise at the loss of contact, feeling the pain in his throat spike. 

But just as quickly as it had left, the reassuring contact is back, in front of him this time. He feels Hank lie down next to him, feels a hand on his face, hears Hank say those words again: “You’re okay, Nick, it’s alright.” 

But it’s not alright, he is still scared and in pain and confused and so, so tired. His hand reaches out for the third time, and Hank knows exactly what it means, without Nick needing to say the words. He moves an arm to wrap around Nick’s body as best as he can in their current positions, and he pulls Nick gently towards himself. 

Nick leans his face into Hank’s shoulder, relaxes ever so slightly, and breathes.

hi idk if this was any good or not but i had a good time writing it!!! i am gonna be honest the stuff about whacking him in the chest is pure bs from me but i Wanted to include it so i did lmao. the rest of the stuff is pretty true to how delayed drowning happens tho!! its pretty wild like you can be fine for several hours and then boom. also i didn’t say this in the fic but dw hank was calling 911 and nick will be fine!!

[ziracona]

Friendship headcanons between Anna and Quentin’s dad? Maybe Nacy too.

For sure! Love their weird awkward relationship.

So, it’s weird for Alan. Like, really weird. Like, can you imagine being him and your poor kid comes home traumatized as fuck after 9 years and he’s got a feral Russian bear woman who is his surrogate mom now in tow?

Obviously, Alan is very stressed about the potential of anything happening to Quentin again, so even knowing the situation, Anna is kind of a source of stress at first. It’s important to Quentin though, so he goes with it and tries to be supportive. It isn’t until about a month after Anna is released from the rehabilitation facility that he is truly at peace about it though. But it happens. There’s a night where Quentin falls asleep on the couch watching a movie, and they don’t notice until it ends. Alan decides to let him sleep there in peace for a bit before waking him up to go sleep in his bed, and is putting up dishes from supper, when he sees Anna carefully putting a blanket over Quentin and stroking his head twice before smiling and leaving him to sleep too, warm now, and he just kind of forgets what he was doing becuase he never quite really truly believed Anna was just selflessly and genuinely invested in his kid’s happiness, but there’s no one there to see, no consciousness for Quentin to appreciate the gesture, and he smiles, because it’s such a relief, and it’s sweet, and he wished Quentin’s mom had lived longer, wished he’d found someone else to be a mom for the kid growing up, and he’s deeply happy he’s got one now.

Anna doesn’t really know what to do with Alan at first either. Like, she gets that ‘Dad’ is the man counterpart to ‘Mama,’ but since hers was dead before she was old enough to remember, she doesn’t really know what that looks like, and never thought about it before. At first is kind of tentatively curious if this means they’re rivals, and she should be jealous of him. Alan never once seems to view their relationships to Quentin that way though, so thank god it never turns into a competition. She’s not sure what it is though, when she realizes it’s not that. So mostly she just tries to give him space and not cause confrontation between them out of respect for Quentin. She notices how good he is to Quentin though, and a few weeks before Alan really gets the same read on her, and kind of softens a little and decides he’s okay. Then suddenly a month in, Alan is more open towards her and starts interacting with her intentionally, even when no Quentin is there at present as an ice breaker. It is super awkward for them both, and they haven’t got a clue how to act towards each other, but they’re both slightly interested in trying, and it works. Alan asks her the morning after he realizes she’s okay if she wants to learn how to make muffins, since she’s sitting at the table watching him cook with a look like a cat has when it sees a new small rodent for the first time, and Anna really does. She is fascinated by all the tricks to tastes there are, and the wild variety of foods she had no idea could exist. At first she’s like “Me?” And very confused by this change in attitude, but he’s nice to her and it’s fun and the food is good, so she enjoys it, and accepts without reservation when he offers another lesson at lunch. This is how their relationship begins: Alan asking her if she wants to learn how to cook various things. Sometimes Nancy and or Quentin joins in, or anyone else in the house. And it’s fun. Anna never looked at food prep as anything but a survival necessity, but there’s a day two months in where she’s covered in flour making shortbread cookies with Alan and Nancy and Quentin, listening to music and people laughing and singing along, and she realizes lots of humans make all kinds of mundane acts into fun activities. And she really likes that. : )

Anna tries to reciprocate Alan’s gestures of goodwill by offering to teach him to hunt, which Alan refuses politiely because he has no idea what he’d do with hatchet throwing and animal tracking skills, but he immediately sees how hurt and insulted and wounded to her core that makes Anna and covers it with a “I mean—I would love to, but I’m just not sure I could have the skills at my age. I’m so old I might be hopeless to teach.” And Anna goes from :’-( to : D instantly and is like “No, no! Not too late—I show you. Many skills very easy to learn basics of. I am good teacher. Can teach even you, I am sure.” And is exceedingly enthusiastic teaching him basic tracking skills the next morning. It’s uh. It’s an awkward walk through a nearby park for Alan at 6AM, with Anna kneeling like fkn Aragorn to listen to the ground or touch dog tracks and sniff things while pointing out valuable intel, but he is duly attentive and awed by her skills, and takes his lesson like a champ, and it’s actually pretty fascinating stuff once you get past the “Wtf is happening” looks you’re getting from every early morning dog walker and jogger going past.

Alan picks up pretty fast that since Anna has almost no social experience, she tends to take social cues from those around her (like trading skills to make friends, or trading gifts with Min & Quentin), and is more careful how he approaches stuff. That also makes him like Anna a lot more, because it’s so sincere and she’s so truly giving all of this her best. He starts a tradition of going back and forth on who picks an activity that interests them to try to give her a chance to branch out and see more of the modern world. Greatly enjoys seeing how much she is excited and fascinated by like, everything. Anna is so mind blown the first time Nancy suggests they hit an Aquarium that it takes 4 times as long as normal to get through, becuase she can’t stop getting lost in the sight of every exhibit. Anna meanwhile notices pretty quick how watchful Alan is and how protective whenever he’s out with Quentin, although he tries to keep Quentin from noticing it too much, and she is very happy about this. Important for parents to be good protectors, especially with Quentin’s luck.

It takes Anna a while to quite get Nancy and Quentin’s relationship, but she decides after much deliberation that she approves and it’s cute. She likes how attentive Nancy is, and how quiet she can be. Thinks she would make a good hunter with skills like that. Is also very aware how much happier Quentin is around her. Decides this makes her a daughter too, and happily welcomes her into the fold. After Nancy realizes this, it kind of breaks her for a while, because she still misses her own mom so, so much. The first time Anna gives her a hug to comfort her about something so much more mundane—just a twisted ankle on a hike, she has a breakdown and can’t stop silently crying into her chest, becuase she still has an open wound in her heart where her mom is concerned. Anna isn’t a replacement, but she is a balm, and it helps. It really does, to have a big self-determined second mom hug you even when she doesn’t understand until you’ve cried all the tears you had, and still be waiting there with patience to hold you through more, and whispered comforts and strong arms around your back. Nancy gets her stuff for the next Mother’s Day, and it almost breaks her heart to have someone to shop for again, but she’s happier too, because it’s a comfort to know another one could love her too, and by choice. She’s had so much guilt over her mom’s death, sometimes she’s wondered if she never deserved to have one love her at all, no matter how much she knows her mom would never want her to think like that. It weirdly helps her talk more about her own mom again, especially to Quentin, who, while he barely remembers his mom, has some small idea how it all feels. She’s able to dig out a lot of the memories of Gwen Holbrook she couldn’t bear to look at for a long time, and forgive herself a little more. And able to make some new memories with Anna and Quentin and Alan she thinks her mom will be happy to hear about someday.

It wasn’t like that at first, though. Nancy is one of the few people who weren’t in the realm who has almost no issue adjusting to Anna, but she had some right at the start. She’s super wary the like, first couple days, because she has mountains worth of PTSD specifically centered around pseudo parental figures and people killing Quentin, but she’s observant as hell, and after watching Anna bodyslam Michael Myers through a wall on first meeting becuase she misconstrued his asshole big brother lifestyle choice of picking Quentin up by his collar for no reason other than easy and fun to push him around as an act of war, she realizes she truly has nothing to worry about, and Anna is an ally in arms when it comes to keeping the guy she loves alive.

Anna is extremely impressed with both Alan and Nancy for their roles in killing Freddy, and this is a massive affinity boost. She thinks Nancy is a little wolf of a girl in the best possible way, and approves of her level of dangerous greatly.

While Alan has no romantic feelings for Anna, it’s really nice to have a woman in the house again—it’s kind of nostalgic, jus to hear her singing sometimes and such. He offers to take her shopping for clothes and accessories becuase he remembers some of the places his wife especially loved, and it makes him sad and happy to be able to put that old treasured remnant of someone beloved to him to good use again. Anna really loves a couple of the same spots, especially a tiny handmade jewelry from gemstones shop, and it hurts but in a good way to have a reason to go there again.

Anna is exceedingly jealous of the photo of Quentin’s mom over the fireplace for like, a year and a half after she realizes who she is. It’s kind of funny. I mean, she’s dead. There is no threat. But Anna despises it and it takes all the willpower she has not to go hide it in a drawer somewhere.

That is until almost two years in when she wakes up early to weird noise and comes down to see Alan has the photo with him at the table, and a little setup with flowers and candles and objects she doesn’t recognize, and he’s crying. It isn’t until that night when she asks Quentin that she finds out it’s the anniversary of his mom’s death that day, but as soon as she sees Alan and the setup, she feels bad, and the anger and jealousy goes away, becuase she remembers feeling exactly that way for years and years at the sight of the portrait of her mother, and still now at the thought of it. The jealousy does not come back.

Alan, Nancy, Quentin, and Anna hang out a lot, and with Feng, Nea, and Ace, or Philip and Claudette a lot too. At a point, Alan starts reaching a “Okay you stay here with the kids and I’ll go grab tickets” kind of tag-team responsibility with Anna, and Anna thinks this is fun, and is immensely pleased with this new role of responsibility partnership. She begins doing the same with him, and likes being partner protectors of the group. She’s wanted to find a family again her whole life, and finally found it now after all these years, but she’s found more than that too; she’s found community, and she never had that before, so she didn’t know to miss it or seek it out or even that it was a thing to want, but now that she has it, she’s so much more happy and content and proud than she’s ever been.

[rvmmm21]

. unpleasant reminders (1.5) .

small note : i know what you’re thinking. great titling. seriously, why can’t i title to save my arse? like i’d pay someone to title my stuff for me. i didn’t mention anything about currency, so go wild. again, please heed my warnings before reading. and uh... remind me never to write this much dialogue ever again, yeah?

*you do not understand how Elated i am to finally be able to pin half of this onto you guys*

i’ve said this in the tags before, but please don’t use shock-collars. save them for this au, okay?

(also... i... i do write soft stuff too. um, j-just in case you forgot... it’s okay to ask me for soft things. i’ll gladly oblige. rvmmm21 isn’t just a yandere bucket).

[yandere!omega!irene x alpha!wendy]

tw : choking, bondage, violence, noncon, implied use of shock-collar. (a very, VERY toxic relationship).

...

Bae Joohyun doesn’t need to be an alpha.

She’s already in control.

And Seungwan isn’t the only one who knows things. Joohyun does too.

She knows plenty.

But if there’s one thing she knows best, it’s that alphas who love their omegas unconditionally do not bolt at any given chance.

And if there’s anything Joohyun considers worse than an alpha who is unwilling to accept that they belong under her, it’s an alpha who actively does something about it.      

It is rather unfortunate that Joohyun, being an omega, does not possess those useful little pheromones alphas use to either overwhelm or calm. Life would be so much easier if she could just have Seungwan on her knees with a whiff of her scent. But when life presents her a challenge like an unruly alpha... a challenge like Seungwan, Joohyun would rather die than back down. She may have been cautious, hell, she may have even bothered to put on a coat before setting out after her fleeing lover. But it really doesn’t matter, not when Seungwan is as docile and harmless as a baby mouse. 

It’s at times like this where Joohyun really doesn’t think her girlfriend deserves her alpha status, or any of those knee-weakening pheromones. It’d be a surprise in itself if Seungwan was aware she even had them, let alone know when and how to use them.

But that isn’t completely her fault. She’s a young pup. Which means she has a lot to learn.

Luckily for her, Joohyun is nothing, if not a well-meaning trainer.

…

Joohyun is standing over her when she opens her eyes.

Even through the blur, it’s creepy. The way she’s just… observing.

She’s calm. Far too calm for Seungwan’s comfort. Not that there’s anything remotely comforting about being gagged and cuffed to the floor. She wants to kick and scream, because she recognises her surroundings far too quickly.

The basement.

Or as Joohyun insists it is, the ‘Training Room’.

For a few seconds she does nothing but quietly stare at the metal around her wrists, the taste of old rags seeping into her tongue anything but pleasant. Finally, Joohyun sighs, bending over to run her fingers along the knot behind her head as she breaks the silence. “Gag wasn’t necessary, but… I know you hate it. And I did catch you doing something very naughty, so I think it’s only fitting, don’t you?”

She fiddles around with the fabric before dragging it down and tossing the damp cloth to the side. Seungwan’s jaw aches when she flexes it a couple times. Stray tears roll down from the corners of bloodshot eyes as she opens her mouth to form some sort of apology. But as soon as her lips are parted, four fingers shove their way into her mouth, as good as choking her in an attempt to keep her from making another mistake.

“Don’t you dare.”

The tears are welling up and she can’t help herself.

“You ran. Again.” Joohyun’s tone is somewhere between a drawl and a snarl. The smaller girl impulsively jerks forward when fingers thrust themselves deeper down her throat. She coughs, gags and tries to twist away, but Joohyun just follows her, never leaving more than a millimetre of space between them. “How many times this month, alpha?”

“No, no, no…” Seungwan tries to say, but it just comes out as incoherent mumbling around Joohyun fingers, all subdued and useless. And it doesn’t help that her head is still spinning. Holding onto a simple train of thought is proving to be harder than the force Joohyun must have applied to knock her out and drag her back.

When the omega pulls her fingers out with a skin-crawling laugh, Seungwan scrambles to defend herself, pointless as it is.

“I wasn’t trying any – wasn’t running, I–”

A foot embeds itself into her diaphragm and cuts off whatever the end of that sentence was supposed to be. The hot pain concentrated in her chest slowly blossoms down her ribs, stomach, and her head. The impact of her back shoved further into the cement she’s slumped against sends agonising jolts down her spine, and it’s that instinctive wince that reminds her that she truly is at the mercy of her sweet, sweet omega.

The added pressure behind the heel serves to better restrict Seungwan’s breathing.

“Puppy’s learnt to lie now, has she?” Joohyun sounds lethargic, and it’s nearly twice as scary as that look of pure, animalistic rage Seungwan had seen on her face not two seconds ago. “You’d better tell me where you picked this charming little habit up… or you’re not going to like what happens next.”

She sounds unimpressed and bored and it’s terrifying.

“P-please…” It doesn’t cross Seungwan that she’s speaking out of turn, that she’s not answering her omega’s question, that she’s not thinking straight. It’s impossible. She can’t think straight. Not when she’s in such a compromising position. “I-I promise it won’t happen again, please… I don’t want to run, it – it was a m-mistake! I didn’t mean to–”

“I didn’t mean to plan an escape, I didn’t mean to keep running when I was called, I’m so sorry, Hyun, please don’t hurt me, Hyun.” Joohyun taunts her, mimicking the panic in her alpha’s voice with a sickening light-heartedness. “How many times do you think I’ve heard that, hm?” She pauses to chuckle at her own awful reminiscing. “Pretty much the first day we started training. And how many times has it worked?”

She kneels down again and wraps her hand around her alpha’s throat. She squeezes, smile broadening when Seungwan whimpers and chokes out a weak – “… none.”

Joohyun smirks. “None.”

Tiny black dots speckle Seungwan’s vision as the pressure on her throat increases, turning her laboured breathing into ragged pants. It takes everything she has to force herself still, if only to keep from encouraging the irate omega, who’s growling at her now, sounding more like an alpha than she can ever hope to be.

“Don’t make me wait for it, puppy.”

At this point Seungwan’s reactions are more reflexive than genuine. “I love – I love you!” Her words are clogged in her throat, but she forces them out in short, sharp gasps. “I love you! I’m sorry – sorry I tried to run, please, please don’t… please Hyunnie, you’re hurting me, stop please…”

Joohyun just grins and uses one more final burst of strength before she relents, keeping her alpha pinned up by her shoulders as she splutters and wheezes and struggles to stop the tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Don’t think you’re getting off scot-free. Seems like I haven’t trained you well enough, puppy. Outbursts like that are very rude, and they will not go unpunished.” She finally lets her go completely to reach for something Seungwan can’t see. It should soothe her, however the lack of pressure on her neck and the lack of a foot in her ribs does little to do so. Quite the contrary. It fires every nerve in her body up, because if Joohyun’s hands aren’t on her now, there’s no telling where they’ll be next.

When Joohyun finally turns around, it’s the familiar little remote she has clasped in her right hand and device in her left that kicks Seungwan’s legs into gear, weak as they are. It makes her forget. She forgets she’s tethered to a U bolt in the floor, forgets that if her omega can singlehandedly retrieve her mid-run, she stands no chance if they’re in the same room.

She forgets her place.

Still, she springs into action, aiming to lunge past her insane girlfriend and head straight for the door. But she never reaches it. As soon as she’s on her feet, Joohyun is straddling her back, knee digging into the base of her spine and forcing her face into the cold cement floor. Seungwan sobs harder, one hand grappling pathetically out in front of her while the other stays pinned under Joohyun’s knee.

“Bad alpha, bad puppy.” The omega patronises as she fumbles around with the contraption she had intended to put on her lover ever so nicely. Of course, Seungwan had to fuck that up too, didn’t she? The battered alpha goes rigid when she feels deceptively soft lips against the nape of her neck, kissing her so lightly and so comfortingly that she almost mistakes it as forgiveness. But that hope is quickly suffocated when she hears the click of a buckle and a lock, when there’s that tightness around her neck.

She suddenly realises that –

“I’m tired of false promises, puppy. If you can’t tell me the truth, then I think it’s better you can’t tell me anything, don’t you?”

– it’s much more painful to swallow in fear when there are two icy iron prongs burrowing themselves firmly into your throat.

[loki-says-trans-rights]

Okay salty time but. It really bothers me that some wicca witches act as if wicca-specific things are General Witchcraft Things.

I might have better words to say this later but basically when i got into witchcraft i had just learned the word "paganism", i was looking for a community and found a group chat advertised as a pagan chat. I learned a lot and it was a great time but what they taught me was in big parts wicca. Which is not bad in itself but it took me leaving that community and finding other spaces to learn that not all witchcraft is wicca and that there are many forms of witchcraft and paganism and that they aren't all the same or follow the same principles.

And i see the same thing happening in many places to other people, especially baby witches.

And you know, some people just don't want to be wicca or use wiccan practices for their own reasons, and that gets really hard when you dont even know what wicca is and how to stay away from it.

I can do it because i learned a lot of wicca so now i can tell what is and isn't wicca in big part. But baby witches can't.

This is also a problem in some irl spaces by the way, i once took part in a ritual with some other witches (most of whom were much older than me) and before the ritual we talked about what we were going to do and if anyone had any objections to it and when we had agreed on a plan we did it, but then near the end two participants suddenly did a wicca thing that i had not been informed of earlier and it was basically about putting a knife/athame (representing the divine masculine) into a chalice (representing the divine feminine) and the implication was... s3x. As queer and nonbinary person i felt really uncomfortable with it, to me it seemed to imply cissexist heteronormative ideas. Obviously i dont know their intentions or whatever but i wasnt asked beforehand, it was just assumed that everyone would be so okay with it that it didn't even need mentioning when we were discussing the ritual ahead of time. most of the other witches present there were not even wicca and it is unclear if they were okay with it.

I think this doesn't only apply to wicca – there are also other strands if witchcraft whose names i dont all know that could make people want to avoid them, asatru being an obvious example because of there being nazi asatru groups out there in the wild.

I'm not trying to say that all heathens are nazis, not at all, the ones i met were mostly queer themselves (and i am an antifa heathen myself so yea,,); equally not all Wicca witches believe in heterosexuality as the default and not all women-only groups are trans-exclusionary, in the same way that not all christians are raging homophobes or antisemites yet people still might have reasons to stay away from christian practices, be it associations with parts of the group who hurt them or something else. Heck, you could even just not like the vibes of a religion or whatever, and that should be enough of a reason to want to stay away from their teachings.

But this is very hard when these teachings are not labeled as such and are presented as "universal witchcraft things" and the wicca witch sabbats as universal witch festivities. The heathen i group i knew celebrated on more or less the same dates as wicca witches do, but with sometimes vastly differing names, meanings and traditions for those events.

I guess this is something that happens easily when a religion gets really big in its particular (sub)culture, as many witches who live in widely christian countries will be aware of. (Other religions too, presumably, tho i havent lived it so i cant speak from experience.)

But yeah, I'm just asking you to tag your stuff. I'll try to do the same. Not everyone wants to hear about heathen tradition or chaos witchcraft and that's fine too!

[camillemontespan]

ten years from now [AU. drake walker x camille montespan] [part twelve: impact]

A/N: Liam took over in this chapter. I kinda love him now?

Big thanks to @dcbbw​ for being my sounding board; she is the best at writing Liam and so helpful. We brainstormed a lot and got very excited. 

Spring Street, Soho, is a real street in NY. I google earthed it. It looks awesome.

Master List

@moonlightgem7​​​​​​​​​ @jovialyouthmusic​​​​​​​​​ @mskaneko​​​​​​​​​ @ibldw-main​​​​​​​​​ @katedrakeohd​​​​​​​​​ @pug-bitch​​​​​​​​​ @gooddaykate​​​​​​​​​ @princessleac1​​​​​​​​​ @burnsoslow​​​​​​​​​  @loveellamae​​​​​​​​​  @pedudley​​​​​​​​​ @oofchoices​​​​​​​​​ @emichelle​​​​​​​​​ @simplymissjulia​​​​​​​​​ @dcbbw​​​​​​​​​ @sirbeepsalot​​​​​​​​​ @rainbowsinthestorm​​​​​​​​​ @notoriouscs​​​​​​​​​ @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore​​​​​​​​​ @addictedtodrakefanfic​​​​​​​​​ @marshmallowsaremyfavorite​​​​​​​​​ @nomadics-stuff​​​​​​​  @gardeningourmet​​​​​ @marshmallowsandfire​ @kingliam2019​ *********************************************

Drake woke up hungover. He felt like microwaved shit, no sugarcoating it. Bleary eyed, his eyes adjusted to the harsh light and he took in his surroundings. 

‘Fuck..’ he groaned.

This was a new low; he had gotten drunk and blacked out on the jetty by the lake. He had spent the night there. Dragging himself up, he closed his eyes and exhaled, trying to get used to the lightheadedness.

He looked up to find Bianca and Savannah standing over him.

‘FUCK!’ he shouted.

‘How classy,’ Savannah said with thinly veiled sarcasm. 

Bianca sighed and sat down beside Drake. ‘Baby, Sav told me about you and Camille. Talk to me.’

‘I’m fine,’ Drake said. ‘I need to get back inside-’

‘What happened?’ Savannah asked. ‘What’s the latest development? You fuck her again?’

‘Sav, please just stop..’ Drake muttered, done with his sister’s shit.

‘No!’ she shouted. ‘I am watching you tear yourself apart over her! Ever since she came back, I could see you looking at her, building your hopes up.. I just want you to be happy but this isn’t the way. Drake, I’m sorry, I like Camille but this is the worst situation to get yourself into. She’s engaged, she’s not going to leave Liam, it’s not going to happen-’

‘Yes, it will!’ Drake burst out. He clambered to his feet unsteadily, aware that Bianca was now gripping his arm. He turned to face his sister with wild, bloodshot eyes. ‘We are far from over! I was an idiot but I can see it now. I’ve grown up. I’m going to get her back.’

Bianca and Savannah’s eyes both widened. Bianca’s fingers dug into his skin. ‘Drake, think about this. Please. She has a life in New York, she has Liam. She is getting married in less than three months. You can’t just throw a spanner into the works, it’s not fair on her.’

‘Mom..’ Drake whispered. ‘I love her.’

‘You fucking what now?’ Savannah asked incredulously. 

Drake looked at Savannah with a steady gaze. ‘I love her,’ he repeated. ‘Always have, always will.’

Savannah stepped back. ‘I thought.. I thought you were being reckless.’

‘I know and I was,’ Drake murmured. He smiled weakly. ‘But we’ve got history. We ended in the shittest way and that’s all my fault, but damn it, I’m not letting her get away twice. I want to bring her back to Texas. I want to marry her. I want to have babies with her. I want to celebrate the 4th of July with her. I want to wake up beside her every single morning and go to sleep beside her every single night. I want to make her happy. I want to love her. I know I was an asshole before but I’ve learned from this. I need her back in my life, Sav.’

There was a long silence. Bianca broke it.

‘I do like Liam..’ she said quietly. ‘And I don’t want Camille to be even more confused. But, I’ve never heard you say that you love someone. Never.  Ever since Camille left, you’ve always been closed off to every girl you’ve been with since. Every girl you've been with since have all tried to break through and get to know the man underneath this.. this armour. They couldn't because they weren't Camille, whether you knew that or not.'

Drake opened his mouth to speak but Bianca kept talking.'I know it’s her or nothing for you. You’re never gonna be happy until you try to get her back. And I really wanna see you happy, baby.' 

Bianca wiped her eyes that were filling with tears. Drake sighed and pulled her in for a hug. His eyes met Savannah’s; she rolled her eyes and quickly hugged Bianca and Drake too; a Walker sandwich.

‘You stink of whiskey..’ Savannah muttered.

‘Love you too, Savvy,’ Drake replied dryly. 

*************************************************

Camille arrived back in New York feeling as if she was a ticking time bomb ready to go off at any moment. She knew she had to talk to Liam and be honest. Quite frankly, she was utterly terrified. 

It was late afternoon when she got home. When she opened the front door, she was welcomed by the scent of cooking and the sound of jazz music playing from the kitchen. Leaving her suitcase by the door, Camille padded through to the kitchen to say hello to her fiancé.

Liam was standing at the stove stirring pasta. He turned when he heard the door open. His face broke out into a wide smile. 

'Darling, you're home!' 

Camille smiled weakly and kissed him softly on the cheek. 'Hey you.' 

'Okay, so I'm making your favourite - spaghetti alla puttanesca,' Liam said quickly, practically dancing back to the stove he was that excited to see her. 'Got your favourite wine chilling in the fridge and we can watch one of your romcoms!' 

Camille bit her lip, feeling awful. How was she going to tell him? How? 

Liam stopped talking to give her a sad smile. 'I feel terrible for not being able to go to Texas with you,' he admitted gently. 'I wish I could have been there to support you. How is Gisele? Is she on the mend?' 

His earnestness and kindness broke Camille's heart. She strode over to him and threw her arms around his neck, clinging on for dear life. His hands gently held her. 

'Darling, are you okay?' he murmured into her hair. 'Shh, it's alright.' 

Tears spilled down Camille's cheeks as she held onto Liam. She could feel the crushing guilt in the pit of her stomach, the bile in her throat and the throbbing headache that was beginning to pulse. 

'I'm so sorry,' she whispered, her voice cracking. Her lips brushed Liam's neck and her arms stayed tightly around him. 'I'm so fucking sorry.' 

Liam gently pulled back to examine her face. His eyes widened with alarm as he realised the distress that she was in. 

'Camille.. Why are you sorry?' 

Camille clutched onto his shirt and prepared herself to tell the truth. She had no idea how she was going to approach this.

Liam's hands were shaking now. He could tell something was very, very wrong. 

'Camille.. Tell me,' he murmured. 'You can tell me anything. It's me.'

Camille closed her eyes and braced herself for impact. She could feel herself now hurtling to earth, the wind out of her sails, her balloon deflated. 

'I cheated on you with Drake,' she said, keeping her voice steady and her eyes on his. She was going to force herself to watch his heart break in front of her. She deserved to see the consequences of her actions. 'I cheated on you with Drake...several times. I'm so sorry. I know there is nothing I can say to take it back but I wanted to be honest -' 

'Please stop talking,' Liam croaked. His eyes were looking over her shoulder into the distance, far off and glassy. 'Please.'

But Camille couldn't stop talking. She was panicking. And as usual, her panic was turning into word vomit. 

'He was my best friend growing up and we also dated,' she continued, her voice increasing in pace and volume. 'I lost my virginity to him. I loved him. But we ended with no closure and I hadn't seen him for ten years until now -' 

Liam had moved away from her and was gripping hold of the kitchen counter, his knuckles turning white. He wore a grim expression on his face and his jaw was set, the pressure point throbbing from his tension. 

'Camille, please stop talking.'

'At first it was fine, we didn't do anything but then we had sex at the Beaumont Bash and kissed in the maze-'

'I really don't want to know the details,' Liam tried to cut in. His voice was thin like paper. 

'And then he visited me here, in the city, and we slept together again!' Camille burst out. 'But I told him that I needed space and I came straight back here to tell you the truth. I can't keep lying anymore, Li. I need you to know. You're so kind and so good -' 

'Then why did you sleep with him then?!' Liam suddenly burst out, picking up a plate and throwing it to the floor, making it smash and Camille jump out of her skin. 

Liam whipped around to face her. His eyes were wild and his chest was rising and falling rapidly.

'If I'm so kind and so good, why the fuck did you sleep with him?' he repeated. 'Why go behind my back? We're engaged, Camille! We've got everything all planned, our whole future! And you're throwing it away to be with some guy you dated ten years ago?!' 

Camille rushed towards him to take him by the hand but he shrugged her off. 'Li, please!' she cried, tears pouring down her cheeks. 'I'm so sorry! I didn't mean for it to go this far, I was an idiot-' 

'Hindsight is a fucking beautiful thing, isn't it!' Liam shouted, pushing past her. He stormed out of the kitchen, with Camille close on his heels, and through to the bedroom where he flung open the closet doors. Camille saw with horror that he was taking out a suitcase. 

'What are you doing?' she asked, panicking. 'Can we talk about this? I want to fix this, please -' 

'You've done enough,' Liam said gruffly. He was throwing his clothes into the case, not even bothering to fold them. 

'Liam, please let me explain,' Camille pleaded. 'I need to tell you that I made a mistake.' 

Liam closed his eyes and stopped putting clothes into the suitcase. With his hands spread out on the bed, he slowly brought his face up to look at her. 

'When you told him you needed space,' he whispered, 'did you tell him it was over?' 

Camille blinked. 'Uh..' 

There was a horrific, heavy silence. Camille realised that she hadn't. She had told Drake she was taking the space he had given her. But she hadn't told him it was over. She thought she had implied it but thinking back.. She hadn't. Yet again, the door was left open for Drake Walker. 

Liam shook his head and went back to packing. With tears blinding her vision, Camille rushed to unpack everything in the case. She grabbed his socks and pulled them out, casting them to the floor. 

'Camille, no!' 

'I need to explain!' 

'Just stop it!' he shouted, taking her by the arms. His eyes bore into hers. 'Please, Camille,' he begged quietly. 'Don't make this more difficult than it needs to be.' 

Camille detached herself from him. She watched as he packed more of his things. His ironed shirts. His trousers. His pointed shoes. His ties. His cotton check pyjamas. 

A sob escaped Camille's throat. She clapped her hand to her mouth but her sobs came out thicker and faster as she realised how badly she had fucked up. 

Tears were trickling down Liam's cheeks too. He kept his head down as he cried, his hands clenching the sides of the suitcase. 

'I did everything in my power to make you happy,' he choked out. 'That was all I wanted, Camille. Just for you to be happy, preferably with me.' 

He wiped his eyes and zipped up the suitcase. Camille watched as he pulled it through the room and out to the hallway. He shrugged on his navy coat with the brass buttons, his favourite coat, and he unlocked the front door. 

Camille watched with bated breath. Liam closed his eyes, stopping at the threshold. 'I thought I knew you,' he whispered. 'But it turns out I never did.'

'Li..' she croaked. 

Liam opened his eyes and turned to look at her properly now. He looked defeated. 

'I deserve to be with someone who gives a shit,' he told her. 'And that person is out there for me. But it's not you.' 

Camille was about to rush to him again but stopped when Liam shook his head. 

He looked at her now. 'I'll be back to pick up the rest of my things,' he whispered. 

Liam took his suitcase and opened the front door, leaving the apartment. Camille stood in the hallway feeling hollow and empty. 

She wandered aimlessly into the kitchen where the spaghetti Liam had been cooking was now burning. She quickly turned the stove off and silently gazed down at the counter, not really looking at it. 

The sound of Liam's jazz music continued to fill the room. Camille turned the music off, needing utter silence to process what had just happened. 

*******************

Drake obtained Camille’s address from the back of Gisele’s calendar. He didn’t feel good about it but Bianca had a key and Drake needed to know where Camille actually lived so he could tell her how he felt. Sure, he could call her but he needed to tell her in person. That was what you did when you were in love, right? You made grand gestures. You let yourself be open to vulnerability. You laid yourself bare to the other person and just hoped that they would return your feelings. If he didn’t do this, he would spend forever looking backwards.

He flew to JFK and hailed a taxi as soon as he was out of the airport. ‘136 Spring Street, Soho, please,’ he instructed the driver.

Drake gazed out at New York as the taxi navigated the busy streets. As they reached Spring Street, Drake felt out of his depth; while it wasn’t the fanciest street, it was full of independent bakeries, designer shops like Burberry and Chanel, and Italian restaurants. Of course Camille and Liam lived here.

Liam.

Drake had accepted the fact that Liam may be at home. Not ideal but then he needed to know the truth too. He needed to know all the facts. 

Drake leaned his forehead against the cool glass and closed his eyes. He was delusional. Driven to madness. If Liam was home, Drake would slink back into this taxi and never appear in Camille’s life again.

********************************

He pressed the intercom button and waited with bated breath. His heart was pounding against his chest; he was sure he was close to having a heart attack. 

‘Hello?’

Camille’s voice. Distant, small.. Hopeful. 

‘Camille,  it’s me!’ he said. ‘It’s Drake!’

There was a long silence. Drake closed his eyes. ‘Camille, please..’

‘You’re at my home,’ she whispered, her voice crackling through the intercom. ‘Why? What the hell has possessed you-’

‘I need to talk to you,’ he burst out. ‘Please.’

‘We’ve done enough talking,’ she replied. 

‘No, you have!’ Drake shot back. ‘But I haven’t!’

Another silence. It was excruciating. 

‘Please, Camille..’ Drake whispered. 

The intercom buzzed, letting Drake enter the building.

[fericita-s]

Mating Season (Chapter 3)

This is the final chapter of Northuldra Anna/Black Mountain Kristoff; thank you for reading! And thank you @the-spastic-fantastic who especially helped me with Ryder’s brilliance here.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Anna was right.  Anna was right, but she didn’t want to be.  They didn’t touch each other all night long and she was also ridiculously uncomfortable all night long.  

She read to him from her book and he told her a story of the constellation that was best seen from the top of the Black Mountain in spring; antlers of a mighty stag who could bless or curse when called upon for help. They said goodnight formally and each went to their own bed, turning their backs as they took off their clothes.  The rustle of falling clothes was deafening and it brought a thrill all the way up Anna’s body, from her toes to each individual hair on her head.

She laid on her cot and he laid on the one usually occupied by Ryder and she felt she had never been more awake.  He looked so large and out of place on it, his feet hanging off of the end and his shoulders wider than the frame of it.  He had taken his shirt off and she watched as the shadows made by the flickering candle danced and moved along his chest and arms.  The pattern of it looked as frenzied as she felt. She had a wild thought that she wanted to trace the path of the shadows, to feel the skin beneath and see if the heat she felt was there as well. 

She couldn’t sleep.  Longings she never felt for Ryder had her mind imaging what she would rather be doing than just looking at him.  Kristoff’s breathing, the size and weight of him...it was unfamiliar but not unwelcome.  He took up space in the cabin differently.  Things felt hot and crowded and every time she breathed she was aware of where he was and where she was and how much distance was between them. 

***

Kristoff heard Anna leave her bed and turned to watch as she opened and peered around the cabin door, gently shutting it after faint light spilled into the room.  He sat up and she turned her head to look at him, speaking quietly. “The sun’s coming up.”

‘Yes.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes, though they weren’t bleary from sleep.  It had been a restless night, full of tension and the hope and worry of what ifs. He hadn’t slept and he was sure she hadn’t either.

“So it’s not night anymore.” She walked closer to him, pulling on the end of one of her braids. He sat up on the cot and turned sideways so he sat on the edge, his feet on the floor, his back against the wall.

“Yes.”

“And nothing happened at night.  Between us.  Just like I said.”

“Yes.” He licked his lips and then stopped, realizing what he wanted to be doing with his lips, and hoping he wasn’t making her uncomfortable.  

“But it’s not night anymore.  It’s day.” Her knees bumped against his as she stopped walking to stand right in front of him, and he wondered if her heart was beating as quickly as his. 

“Yes.”

“So. If I kiss you now, I’m not proving you right.  Because it’s day.”

Kristoff’s breathing hitched and he wanted to hear her say it again, to be sure he had heard her correctly.  Did she want what he wanted?  

He slowly lifted his arms and circled her waist, gently pulling her closer and trapping her legs between his thighs.

“I have never cared less about being right. And it’s fine if you and Ryder have...you know. But I hope you don’t anymore.  Because I want to be that for you. I want to be with you.”

“Ryder and I have never. Well, we kissed once when we were still kids and it was so gross I thought maybe I was like Elsa.” She gave a high-pitched laugh before clearing her throat. “That maybe I liked girls like she does. Women.  Not the ice powers stuff.  But I don’t. I like boys.  Or men, I mean.  I like men. I like you.”

He lifted his head up and she brought hers down and her braids fell across his bare shoulders. She heard his sharp intake of breath as she reached out to tangle her fingers in his hair and he answered “I like you too.”

She brushed her lips against his and he deepened the kiss with an intensity that made the heat that had been steadily building in her middle all night flare. He suddenly stood and lifted her up, her legs going around his waist and her hands still deep in his hair. He walked with her over to her bed and laid her down, running a hand along her face and whispering “I would very much like to kiss you right now.  May I? May we?”

“Yes.” She reached for him, and their hands and mouths and bodies spoke in ways they had been longing to over the course of that night, the past few weeks, the past few months.

***

Later, Anna awoke to a light knocking on the cabin door.  She wrapped a blanket around herself and answered, only poking her head out into the cold midday air. 

“Ryder!”

He smiled.  “I brought you provisions.  I thought you might need them after your night.” He handed her a basket full of food, the warmth and smell of it a welcome thing. “Seara helped me make it.  She was very happy to welcome me last night, so thank you for that.” He waggled his eyebrows and bowed his head to her. “I’ll come get my bag later. I think this will be the new permanent arrangement.” He leaned in close. “Unless you tell me things didn’t go well. Because she can wait.  She loves me enough to wait.”

Anna smiled and took the basket.  “Everything is perfect. Thank you for coming to be sure.” 

***

“There’s a tree there.  And there.  And there. Kristoff, we’re in a forest.  Near a mountain covered in a forest. There are trees literally everywhere.” They walked leisurely through the forest, holding hands, eyes scanning the surrounding woods. Kristoff knew what he was looking for, but Anna did not. Their boots padded softly through the thin layer of snow, almost as light as frost. Sven trotted behind them, stopping occasionally to scratch against the satisfyingly rough bark of a tree.

“We’re looking for a very specific tree.” He paused to put his hand on a tree trunk, then shook his head.  “Not that one.”

“What kind? I grew up in a forest.  I am actually pretty good at finding very specific trees.” As much as she enjoyed holding his hand and walking, she felt too aimless without a task. 

“Birch.  Specifically, a birch burl. And I know you can find one, but I was also hoping to make this sort of a surprise.”

Anna was familiar with burls, the gnarled, knobby parts of a tree that looked like deformed bulges.  Woodworkers liked them for carvings or furniture, the beauty of the burl’s insides revealed in swirls and knots and intricately radiant lines.  “Are you making something?”

“You need a guksi.” 

Anna smiled at that, thinking about the tradition Seara had told her about Black Mountain men carving and giving their beloved a guksi to demonstrate their willingness to provide and care for her.  Beloved.  That was the word Seara had used. Was it a word Kristoff would say to her when it was made?

Kristoff stopped by a particularly large burl on a medium-sized birch tree.  “This will do.”

Anna took her mittens off to run her hands over it.  “I love burls.  Scary on the outside, waiting for their inner beauty to be revealed.  Like someone I know.”

Kristoff laughed.  “I’m scary?”

She smiled.  “Well no. You were though.  Gloomy at least. Now you smile all the time.”

Krsitoff leaned in close to her mouth, she could feel the heat from him as he spoke. “Hmm.  I think I know why.”

She moved the last inch between them to press her lips against his and he smiled into their kiss.  Kissing him outside in the woods was even better than kissing him inside the cabin: the smell of snow, the bark of the tree against her back as he leaned against her to deepen the kiss, the chill of the wind making the press of his body and the heat it brought to her even more welcome. 

As they walked back, she thought about how he really was like a burl.  Formed in the aftermath of injury or disease, a tree turned in on itself for a time, wild and arrested.  Instead of giving up, it created something singularly beautiful.  She held his hand tightly, grateful that he had chosen to persevere instead of give up, hope over despair. 

***

Several weeks later, Kristoff entered the cabin as Anna sent out three children.  They collided with him, giggling as he dropped the bundle in his hand.  One of the girls picked it up and gave it to him with bandaged hands. “Do you live here now?”

Kristoff looked over her shoulder and through the door to Anna, tilting his head in question.  He wasn’t sure how to answer.  He spent most nights in the medical cabin with Anna. The only nights he spent away were those spent camped by the frozen lake for harvesting or in a kota in the woods hunting a day or more’s journey away from the main village.   He didn’t want to answer for her, but she seemed more amused than embarrassed by the question, smiling and shrugging as she was. “Uh, yes, I live here now.”

The children giggled again and then ran off.  Kristoff knocked snow off of his boots on the doorframe and then pulled the door closed behind him.  “They didn’t seem sick. Thankfully.  What trouble did they get into?”

“Oh they managed to find a patch of stinging nettles, though how that’s possible when it’s not quite March I don’t know.  Maybe the Black Mountain has magic after all.” She had gloves on and picked up a stem of the offending plant. “Could the hot springs keep vegetation heated in the winter? I might set up a medicinal greenhouse near the springs if so.”

Kristoff took off his hat but kept his mittens on to take the plant from her. It had brillianty green leaves, wide at the bottom and smaller at the top. “I think my mother made soup with these.”

“She probably did.  It’s edible when prepared the right way.  We can also use it to help a mother with milk and to treat breathing problems. You just have to handle it correctly.  The children had some burns but it was nothing a little cold pack couldn’t cure.”

Kristoff gave the nettle back to her, and watched as she expertly stripped it and then ground it with her mortar and pestle. He came behind her and rubbed her shoulders as she worked.  “I’m so glad you came here. We’re lucky to have you.  I’m lucky to have you.”

Anna turned to face him and his arms slid down from her shoulders to her waist.  She took her gloves off, then put her hands on his shoulders. “I like being here. And if I strip the seeds just right, whoever is in this cabin next will have a wonderful row of nettles right outside the door in the plot you helped me stake out.  We’ll have to plant right as the reindeer start calving, which will be tricky, but I’m sure we can manage.  I’m determined to leave this cabin in good order for whoever takes over.”

Kristoff’s grip tightened on her waist and his heart sank with her words.  She spoke so certainly of leaving. He wanted to ask her to stay, but was that fair? To ask her to leave her family and her home? She had been training several women in the various remedies she made, and he knew she had plans for training several more people during the calving so they would know how to do it for the next season. But he didn’t just want her for her knowledge of reindeer and medicine.  He wanted her.

She brought a joy and a light to his days, a warmth he had thought would remain absent.  She had become his family.  But he didn’t know how to tell her.  And he didn’t know if she felt the same way.

“I made you something.” He reached behind her to where he had placed the bundle on the work table. “I hope it didn’t get damaged when I dropped it.”

Anna took it eagerly and unwrapped the fabric covering, folding it neatly.  It looked to be a handcloth she could use for any variety of treatments or medicine applications. As her hand touched the hidden gift, she gasped.

“Oh! It’s the guksi! You made this? It’s so beautiful!” Her hands stroked the deep well and smooth handle. She looked closer and noticed a carving on the edge, right where her hand would grip it when drinking.  She rubbed it and felt the shape, a shining sun next to antlers. “The People of the Sun and the People of the Black Mountain! Thank you Kristoff.  It’s perfect.”

She hugged it to herself until he reached for it. “May I? You should have a drink out of it.”

He dipped it into the basin of water and held it up to her and she drank deeply. He had a vague memory of his father doing the same for his mother and instead of feeling lonely like memories of his parents had often made him feel, this one made him feel aglow in love and belonging.  

***

In April the pregnant reindeer were so cumbersome that Ryder complained of the extra work it required. Anna scoffed at that.

“Extra work? Are you the one internally carrying a beast with four hooves?”

Seara laughed and Ryder shook his head. “I just mean I’m ready for the calving.  Though, I’ve been meaning to tell you, Anna...I’m not ready to go back to Northuldra.  I mean, I will go back with you.  But just to safely see you home and say goodbye.” He put his arm around Seara and they shared a smile. “I’m going to stay here with Seara.”

Anna clapped her hands in delight. “Oh that’s wonderful!” She reached to embrace them both around the neck as Kristoff rode up to them on Sven. She saw him and a thought she had been pushing away emerged in the space made by Ryder’s news.  Did she want to stay as well? Would Kristoff want her to?

“It’s time.”

Reindeer calving was a messy business.  And even though Anna had been present at many, she still marveled at the miracle of it: a fully formed reindeer, emerging from its mother in little more than half an hour. A whole herd completed the process in about ten days. Her mother had told her the reindeer did it that way to overwhelm predators as a way to protect the young, but Anna thought it must also be a way to overwhelm the humans who kept the reindeer in their care.  At the end of the ten days she felt overwhelmed with the beauty and blood and sleeplessness of it all.

When it was finally over, Kristoff took her back to her cabin on the back of Sven and then carried her inside.  He bathed her, the blood and dirt difficult to scrub off of her work-worn hands.  He gently lifted her out of the small washtub and wrapped her in blankets, carrying her to her bed where he hoped sleep would right the deep shadows under her eyes.  She pulled him down with the strength he had seen on display in the past few weeks, but nevertheless it surprised him coming from one so exhausted.

“Are you sure? Don’t you want to wait until you’re rested? “

She spoke into his ear. “I am sure.  And I don’t want to wait.”

***

In May he tilled the earth for her and watched as she carefully placed seeds in the thawing ground.  “I hope it’s not too early to plant these; but we’ll be leaving soon.” Anna made signs with detailed pictures and he carved in the symbols his people would recognize.  She straightened the bottles and vials and bowls and folded the bandages and checked on the reindeer daily. 

Kristoff wanted to ask her to stay, but still hadn’t found the words.  He could show her - giving her a blanket or making her a guksi or even singing with her by the fire.  That was easy. But telling her outright . . . he had no idea how to do that. And he wasn’t sure she wanted him to. Would she ever want to leave the woods she spoke so lovingly about? Or the family she was counting down the days until she would see again?

***

“Remember to keep the ones who haven’t shed their winter coats yet out of the sun! They’ll collapse from sun stroke. And harvest that boska soon; it will be ready!” 

Seara nodded.  “Yes, Anna. We know.  Just go! The sooner you go the sooner Ryder comes back to me.”

Ryder reached for her in one swift motion and dipped her low for a kiss, then righted her once more. They both laughed and then he kissed her again on the nose. “I’ll be back.  And you won’t believe the proposal.  You’ll be so surprised and happy that I don’t even know if you’ll remember to say yes.”

Seara laughed again and waved him away. “Stop telling me about it if you want it to be a surprise.”

Ryder and Anna rode the reindeer part of the way and walked part of the way, telling each other stories and making guesses about what their families and the rest of the Northuldra had done in their absence.  Eventually, talk turned back to the people they had just left behind.

“What’s this proposal you promised to Seara?”

Ryder smiled and rubbed his hands together.  “I told her about our tradition of proposing with the herd of reindeer and a smattering of butterflies and a beautiful speech about the bride-to-be’s best qualities.  She probably knows I plan to do it, really, but we’re both pretending it’s a surprise.”

“That’s sweet.”  Anna stretched her arms as they rode, feeling stiff after sitting so long in one position.  “Do they have proposal traditions?”

Ryder nodded, frowning.  “Yes. But it involves asking her parents for her hand, and well, they died.  So many of the parents did. That’s why I thought to tell her about how Northuldra do it.  I thought it would make her laugh.”

“I’m glad you found each other.  Though I’ll miss you.”

“I thought for a while you might stay too. Or at least have a long goodbye with Kristoff this morning. Where was he?”

Anna swallowed, suddenly feeling sick and sad.  

The night before, she had told Kristoff not to see her off in the morning.  It would be too hard.  She loved their time together, she would treasure it always, let’s kiss now and let that be our goodbye.

But it had not made things easier.  Each snap of a branch or distant grunt of a reindeer made her turn and look for Kristoff and Sven.  Though she was eager to see her parents and sister again, over the past few months she had begun to think of Kristoff as her family.  Of course, he had never said as much to her. He gave her thoughtful gifts and spent more time with her than any of his kinsmen.  And yet he had remained silent about extending her time with the Black Mountain. Anna thought with a bitter laugh how after years of dismissing men for being “too” something, it was now Kristoff that apparently hadn’t found her “enough,” at least not enough to ask her to stay. 

Ryder saw the bright sheen in her eyes and didn’t push for an answer.  He reached over to hold her hand and then her tears started to fall.

***

“Anna! Oh, Anna! It’s so good to see you!” Elsa, Agnarr, and Iduna ran up to Ryder and Anna and crushed her into a hug. Ryder joined the pile and then patted Anna on the shoulder.

“I’m going to go tell my parents and Honeymaren the good news!”

Elsa watched him go and then looked back at Anna. “What good news?”

Anna smiled and tears filled her eyes again. “He’s going to go back to the Black Mountain.  He’s going to marry a girl there, Seara.”

Agnarr put his arm around Iduna. “I believe that means I win a certain wager. Your mother thought you might be the one to come back a married woman, or even a mother-to-be.”

Anna tried to keep smiling, but it slipped, and the tears fell down her cheeks faster than she could wipe them away. 

Iduna reached for her, stroking her face with hands Anna had missed, and it made her cry even harder. “Oh Anna, what is it?” She pulled back abruptly.  “Anna, are you…” she placed her hand on Anna’s face, noting the deep circles under her eyes, the glow of her skin and luster of her hair.  “Anna, you’re pregnant.  Maybe two months? Three? How do you feel?”

Elsa and Agnarr looked like twin expressions of shock, their mouths open and eyes wide, and they gripped each other’s hands as Iduna’s felt around Anna’s middle and then stroked her hair.

“Mother, no, I don’t...I don’t know.  I suppose I could...Could I?” She cried harder.  “He didn’t ask me to stay and I wanted to.  I missed you so much but I would have stayed. He's not too irritable or serious like I thought; he's patient and leads well and he's compassionate to the point of ridiculousness and I love him so much and why did I leave? Home is with him.”

Iduna stroked her hair and let her cry. “It’s alright, Anna.  It’s alright.  Everything is going to be alright.”

***

Anna had felt relief at her mother’s words, but she didn’t see how they could be true. 

 Ryder, Honeymaren, and their parents came into her family’s kota for an evening meal. Iduna had been preventing Agnarr from bothering Anna with questions, but he seized the opportunity to ask Ryder all about Kristoff.

“And how did he treat our daughter? Was he true in his affections?”

Ryder took a large bite of meat and nodded, answering with his mouth still full.  “Oh yes, he was definitely true.  I mean, they did get married.”

Agnarr, about to ask a follow up question, sputtered.  Anna choked a little on her sip of water, wiping some with her sleeve as it dribbled down her chin.  Elsa opened her eyes wide and asked “Wait, what?” in an incredulous voice.

“Yes, some ancient traditional way.  There wasn’t a ceremony or anything.  I didn’t realize it, but apparently all of the Black Mountain people did. Seara told me.”

Anna shook her head, completely confused.  “What are you talking about? We didn’t get married.”

Ryder was emphatic. “You shared a guksi in public.  He made her one as a gift.  You sleep in the same cabin and sang together at gatherings. He gave her a blanket with his family’s pattern. You planted seeds.” He startled at the strangled noise Agnarr made.  “Actual seeds.  That’s not a metaphor.”

Anna covered her mouth with her hands half-laughed, half-cried into them. Elsa put an arm around her.  Before she could figure out how to respond to that revelation, she heard the sound she had been longing to hear since leaving the Black Mountain.  A distinctive reindeer grunt and a voice calling out “Anna!  Anna! Where are you?”

She pushed her way out of the tent and saw him.  He was sweaty and had a slightly crazed-look in his eye, one she recognized from their search for Sven. With a sharp stab of happiness and relief, she realized that now she was the one he was desperate to find. 

He ran to her and crushed her into a hug, nestling his head down to her shoulder. “I left a few hours after you did.  Seara found me moping and told me I was being an idiot and she was right.  I forgot. I forgot how to tell people that I love that I love them.  I’m sorry.  I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to stay.  But please come with me now.  I love you. I want you with me always.”

He pulled away from her and saw her tears. Her family had come out of the tent, and Ryder with them.  

“Kristoff! Clear this up, will you? They don’t think you two are married.”

Kristoff looked at Anna and scratched at the back of his neck.  “Well, I didn’t realize it, but Seara told me. We performed the rituals, and they were witnessed, but Anna you didn’t know and I’ll not hold you to them.  I love you and do want to marry you, but you can’t be held to what you didn’t know. It’s an old tradition, I didn't even remember it.”

Anna laughed and wiped at her face, still wet from so many tears.  "Well it just makes sense as a tradition. Those are obviously things that people in love do; we did them.  And I would like to keep doing them with you forever." Kristoff’s face broke into a grin and he took a relieved breath, shoulders heaving.  Even Sven seemed to be grunting in a happy way.

“But oh! I didn’t realize it Kristoff, but my mother, she did. We’re going to have a baby. In seven months or so.” His mouth hung open and he reached for her, lifting her high in the air and twirling her around and setting her down gently. 

“Oh! Should I have not done that?” He looked to Iduna.  “Is she alright? Did I just harm the baby?”

Iduna shook her head. “She’s as fit as a fiddle and I’m sure the baby is too.  But maybe don’t head back to the Black Mountain tonight.”

Agnarr stepped forward and extended his hand. “Join us for a meal.  After all, you’re family.”

***

That night, they huddled together not out of cold or fear but out of gratefulness that they had found one another. Kristoff rubbed his nose behind her ear and laid a hand on her stomach, whispering. “I love you. Both of you.”

She reached over to stroke his beard.  “I love you too.”