#i write when the writing mood strikes

[4e7her]

OK SO

i just made myself a huge like masterlist p much in discord with all my fics in it. i’ll need to put tumblr stuff in it too later but THE HOPE IS. that since i will be able to easily scroll through all of it. (google docs mobile is hell and i usually write on my phone) i will actually be able to SEE ALL MY FICS. and not forget about what i am working on.

i’m also keeping track now of what i currently want to work towards and what i have in my inbox over here. before i was kinda just checking every so often and then forgetting and then checking and then forgetting etc

WITH ANY LUCK. this will mean more consistent posting. i CANNOT promise anything because i am a human and thus flawed. BUT I WOULD LIKE TO GO BACK TO WRITING MORE.

i have five twstober prompts left to write and eight requests in my inbox and then i will open requests again. i will NOT be hosting any request EVENTS for the near future - twstober will be the only event i am planning on regularly participating in. i would like to instead focus more on my full fics and my ocs as they bring me very much joy. please ask me about my ocs i will love you forever /platonic. i will also add something to my request rules for asks about ocs because i will take any and all excuses to talk about them

CHEERS I HOPE THIS WORKS BROS. I NEED TO GET A WHITEBOARD OR SMTH FOR A REMINDER IN MY PHYSICAL SURROUNDINGS TOO FOR MY BRAIN

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

okay, this is a halfway to 7k unedited fantasy au snippet! Out Of Context as usual!

some warnings for this one: blood, gore, major character injury, graphic description of injury <3 i had fun w/ it not sorry <3

~

The front door slams open, stalling all conversation inside. A flash of lightning illuminates the two forms huddled in the doorway, one considerably larger than the other.

Barnaby staggers a half-step inside, dripping water all over the floor. That alone has Howdy putting down the glass and moving across the bar to better assess the situation. Eddie is struggling to support Barnaby’s listing weight, and both of them are clutching at Barnaby’s belly. They’re both soaked through.

Someone gasps, and the folks seated nearest to the door stand and back away, muttering in alarm. Howdy’s stomach plummets. Some of the water puddling on the floor is too dark to be just that. Barnaby’s front, under where his massive paw is clutched, is drenched dark as well. 

Eddie catches his eye - he looks wild with fear. 

“Out!” Howdy thunders. “Everyone out! I don’t care about your tabs or if you’re not done - if you have a room, go there, if you don’t, scram!”

Some people cast him and Eddie dirty looks, but they start to get up, grumbling all the while. Howdy couldn’t care less. Not when Barnaby is leaning so heavily on Eddie, his breathing so labored that Howdy can hear it amidst the shuffle and scrape of patrons leaving.

“What happened?” Julie yells, running across the room from the neighborhood booth. 

“Make sure everyone gets out,” Howdy says, redirecting her. Julie doesn’t look happy about it, but she complies. The patrons start to clear out faster with her aggressive ‘assistance’. Howdy throws his drying towel off to the side and nearly vaults over the bar to help support Barnaby. He reaches to sling Barnaby’s other arm over his shoulders-

“Don’t!” Eddie cries. He doesn’t let go from the wound, and Barnaby cringes away from Howdy with a breathy echo - “Don’t.”

“Why not?” Howdy says, panic rising in his throat. He looks closer at the wound Barnaby and Eddie are holding - this time he has to swallow down bile. Glistening, blood-slicked pink pulses under their hands. Barnaby whines softly. He’s terribly pale under his fur.

“Everyone’s gone!” Julie announces. 

Howdy snaps out of his horrified trance. He points at the bar. “Clear a spot on the floor for him on the floor, make sure we have room to work.”

Julie makes a frustrated noise but complies once again. Howdy slips around to Eddie’s side and trades places with him, but Eddie doesn’t let go of the wound. The sudden weight makes Howdy stumble, but he quickly widens his stance and starts shuffling them to the area Julie is clearing. They help Barnaby lower to the ground, and every pained whine and gasp is like an arrow to the heart. Eddie whispers apologies all the way down. Barnaby’s free paw leaves scratches in the bar’s cherry wood.

“Ed, I need you to get my supplies from my room,” Howdy says, rolling up his sleeves with quick, expert flicks.

Eddie looks at him like he’s crazy. “I can’t let go!” 

“I’m here to take your place - four arms are better than two, now get!” 

Eddie still hesitates, but slips away once Howdy puts all four of his hands where Eddie’s measly two were. It’s hot, and wet, and - and -

It becomes immediately clear that this is a wound they can’t fix, not without an extraordinarily talented healer. 

“Julie,” Howdy chokes out, “get Poppy.”

“Okay,” Julie says faintly, right behind him. She slowly backs away, and all at once sprints for the front door. A burst of fresh, rain-filled air blows inside before the door closes again. The cold shock makes Barnaby flinch and gasp. 

“Hold on, Barn.” Howdy forces himself to look at Barnaby’s face instead of the pulsing guts bulging from the gash someone sliced across his belly. The soaked fur under and around it looks purple. “Help will be here in a jiff, so don’t you go falling asleep on me.”

“Tryin’,” Barnaby wheezes, and his voice has never sounded so much like music, “tryin’ not to. It’s - stars, it hurts, Howdy-”

“I know, but you gotta hang in there, pal. Poppy will fix you right up.”

“I…” Barnaby makes a wretched noise that sounds like a sob, “I don’t wanna die.” He whines, a leg weakly kicking out as his guts twitch. “M’ not ready, Howds, m’ not…”

“You’re not going to die,” Howdy insists even as Barnaby’s blood soaks his hands and sleeves. 

He doesn’t want Barnaby to die, either, but who knows where Poppy is - there’s no guarantee that she’s home, and even if she is, her abode is clear across town. Julie is a fast runner, but in this weather… with such a distance…

Barnaby is going to die. 

Howdy will do his damned best to keep that from happening. 

Clattering precedes Eddie sprinting around the corner. He checks the bar hard, but doesn’t fall or flinch. He takes the hit and slides to his knees by Barnaby’s side and opens the pack. Howdy almost reaches out to rummage through it himself, but Barnaby’s paw starts to slip from the wound. 

“No no, none of that.” Howdy nudges it back into place with his knee and tries to jostle Barnaby with the same motion. “Eyes open and paw up, Barn.”

“Tryin’,” Barnaby whispers. His eyelids flutter in a vain attempt to stay open. His breathing rattles.

Howdy doesn’t need to tell Eddie what to look for, and thank the heavens for that, because Howdy doesn’t think he can look away from Barnaby’s pained features, much less form words that aren’t incoherent prayers to any god that will listen. Barnaby’s paw slips, and Howdy has to lunge to keep his insides from becoming his outsides. Just his hands aren’t enough - he needs to use his forearms. There’s so much of it. 

Eddie scoots forward and holds up a potion, and Howdy nearly howls in anguish. “Not that one! The healing potions - the red ones!”

“I know that!” Eddie snaps just as viciously, which is enough of a shock that Barnaby gains a moment of startled clarity. Eddie uses it to coax him to drink the golden energy potion. “I have some healin’ powers of my own - I can buy him more time than your bruise busters, and you’re fresh out of those, anyway!”

Out?

Howdy stares at his pack in horror. That’s right. He hasn’t restocked - oh, he’s a fool! He allowed himself to grow complacent and reliant on Eddie and Poppy’s healing. He has no time to thoroughly curse his inaction, as Barnaby’s paw comes back up to the wound, and his back arches as he wails his agony. The potion kicked in. Eddie quickly shoves his paw away again and holds his hands to the corner of the gash, his palms glowing orange.

“Oh, oh no,” Barnaby sobs, his boots and claws scraping wood, “Ed, stop-!”

“I’m sorry,” is all Eddie says. He shoves Barnaby’s paw aside when he tries to pry Eddie away. Barnaby grabs for the nearest thing with his other paw, which happens to be Howdy’s thigh. Howdy bites back a pained hiss at the feeling of claws digging sharp through his pants. The cold water saturating Barnaby’s paw soaks the fabric in seconds, creating a contrast to the pinpricks of hot welling up under the claws.

Howdy eyes the healing glow and the strain on Eddie’s face. It won’t be enough - Howdy doubts it will give Barnaby any time at all. The thin corner of the gash slowly knits together, but the rest of it is too wide, too deep. The only reason Eddie can heal any of it at all is due to how clean the slice is. The blade that created this wound must have been freshly sharpened, or enchanted. Howdy can tell at a glance that it cut through Barnaby like a knife through marmalade. 

Eddie heals the other tapered end. He and Howdy exchange a glance - Howdy sees it in his eyes that the healing is just a platitude. Blood continues to soak Barnaby’s pants, Howdy’s, their hands, Howdy’s clothes, the floor. 

Abruptly, Howdy is keenly aware of how quiet the tavern is. Rain drums on the roof and thunder rolls outside. The fireplace crackles. How long will it take to scrub the blood out of the wood flooring? How long will Howdy spend staring at the scratches etched into the bar?  

“How- Howdy,” Barnaby says. He isn’t gripping Howdy’s leg as hard anymore, but he gives it a weak squeeze. “Gotta tell ya - hng - somethin’. Shoulda… told ya sooner, but-”

“Save it for later,” Howdy says quickly. “You can gab all you want when you’re better.”

There likely won’t be a later, or better, and that’s half the problem. Call Howdy selfish, but he won’t let Barnaby make this hurt more than it already does. More than it will. He would rather live with a might’a than a could’a.

Barnaby knows it, because his eyes mist up and he nods weakly. “Yeah. When I’m… when I’m better. Can I ask a fa-favor?”

“Anythin’,” Eddie murmurs. Howdy had forgotten he’s there.

“Find Wally for me?”

Eddie lays a bloody hand on Barnaby’s arm, steely determination flashing in his eyes. “We will. I swear it on my patron’s light.”

“That’s a…” Barnaby pauses to grimace and swallow thickly, “a big promise, Ed.”

“I’ll make sure he keeps it,” Howdy says.

“M’ sure you will. But, but… if Wally really is gone… hey, I’ll say hi to ‘em for ya.” Barnaby manages a shaky half-smile. “At least that’d be one - one good thing ta’ come outta this, huh?”

Howdy’s composure cracks. He chokes down sobs as he slumps over Barnaby, uncaring of the awkward position or the insides sandwiched against his front, drenching his apron and shirt with blood. He hides his tears in Barnaby’s cold, waterlogged ear. Barnaby uses what little strength he has left to turn his head, weakly nuzzling the side of Howdy’s face. His breath is warm. Weak, but warm.

Distantly, Howdy hears Eddie curse and ask “Where are they?” The clink of his armor fades, and the door opens just enough to let in the scent of rain. Howdy hears more than feels Barnaby breathe it in. As close as they are, Howdy can hear the wet rattle in Barnaby’s chest.

Should Howdy do something to make him more comfortable? Would Barnaby’s herbs ease his pain? Even if it would, if anything would, Howdy can’t let go. That would hurt him more, and Howdy refuses to give up that tiny sliver of hope that something can be done. 

The door slams open to let in a thunder of footsteps. Howdy snaps upright, and he’s certain that if he didn’t have a job to do, he’d collapse. 

“Oh dear, oh-” Poppy squawks loud enough to make everyone cringe, her feathers fluffing up. “My feathers, that’s! Oh! That is much worse than what you told me!”

“One can hardly fault her,” Sally says before Julie can respond. She kneels by Howdy with Poppy right behind her. “Are you with us, Barnaby?”

No response. 

Howdy goes cold. “Barn?”

Sally briskly taps Barnaby’s cheek until he twitches, his eyelids barely lifting before falling shut once more. “Still with us!”

If Howdy wasn’t already crying, he’d start now.

“Can you fix it?” Eddie asks from off to the side.

Julie paces anxiously. “Of course she can! Poppy’s the best healer for miles, there’s nothing she can’t do. Right, Poppy? He’ll be up and joking in no time!”

“I.” Poppy’s feathers shake as she dances them over the open wound. “I will most certainly try, but I can’t do it on my own. It’s too severe for my magic to do much of anything. Sally, dear-”

“No,” Sally says immediately, her glow dimming. “You cannot be serious, I won’t - I simply will not-”

“You must. We all need to work together - Howdy and Eddie need to hold the wound shut. It won’t just be you.”

“We need to what now?” Eddie says, even as he settles on Howdy’s other side. “What’s going on?”

Howdy feels sick. “You and I have to make sure his insides stay inside, while Sally will-”

“Sally won’t,” Sally says. “As much of a nuisance as he likes to make himself, Barnaby is my friend! I could never-”

“Then you’re alright with losing him!”” Howdy snarls. “Perhaps you’d like to trade places with me and feel him die under your hands instead!”

Sally gapes at him, stricken. Her mouth flaps for a moment before she shuts it firmly and turns to the wound, lifting her hands. 

“What does she have to do?” Julie asks.

Everyone ignores her - not out of unkindness. Poppy nods to Eddie and Howdy. Eddie places his hands in the spaces where Howdy can’t completely reach. They exchange a glance and push.

There was a time when Howdy received an overpacked shipment of linked sausages. He had no room to store it yet, but the sack it arrived in tore. Shoving them back in - even with all four of his hands - was nigh impossible. It was impressive how the sausages had managed to fit at all, because the sack was certainly too small. 

Shoving Barnaby’s guts back into his stomach is a lot like that.

Barnaby cringes and moans in his nearly-unconscious state, feebly trying to get away from what is certainly agonizing pain. His brow bunches up, and he whines high in his throat. 

Howdy can’t spare a thought to it. Blood and organs squelch as Howdy and Eddie rush to cram it all inside - there’s no time for caution. As soon as the last slip of pink is inside - it’s so, so dark and red past the blue - they squeeze the wound shut to the best of their abilities. Barnaby sobs quietly.

“Now,” Poppy says, and Sally’s palms burn hot enough to make Howdy’s skin itch.

She holds her hands to the sealed gash, and Barnaby starts wailing. Too weak to thrash, he just writhes softly and keens, tears freely spilling down his face and carving dark tracks in his drying fur. His paw twitches around Howdy’s leg, claws digging in again like he wants to grab or yank or something.

“Almost there, Barn,” Howdy lies. Part of him wishes Barnaby would fall fully into unconsciousness. It would be dangerous, but at least he wouldn’t feel this. 

The acrid stench of burning fur and flesh fills Howdy’s nose. Sally and Eddie both gag. Heels rapidly click across the tavern as Julie sprints to the nearest waste bin, and she retches loudly into it. Howdy barely registers it - he’s barely breathing, himself. 

“Well done, all of you,” Poppy murmurs as Sally cauterizes. She holds her wingtips to the cooked flesh of the wound as Sally continues, and they glow coal red. The wound glows with it, the angry blistered flesh smooths and pales, and blue fur starts to grow back before their eyes. 

Barnaby’s paw falls from Howdy’s leg as he starts to slump, cries petering off into agonized whines. Poppy doesn’t seem alarmed, and Howdy just wants his pain to stop, so no one moves to keep him awake.

Soon, Sally has to shuffle in front of Howdy and Eddie to continue. They’re loath to move, so she awkwardly lies across their laps and reaches. As soon as she burns her way to the end that Eddie healed, Poppy gives them the all-clear. 

Eddie lets go first, slumping back on his heels. Sally is still draped across Howdy’s lap with her head pillowed on Eddie’s. The three of them catch their breath as they watch Poppy brush her healing feathers across Barnaby’s stomach. Julie staggers over to them and kneels next to Eddie. She leans against him, sniffling. Howdy doesn’t have it in him to protest when Eddie not only loops an arm around her shoulders, but around Howdy’s waist as well.

Barnaby is finally unconscious, his features slack  - Howdy places a hand on his chest to make sure, and the shallow rise and fall of it is more priceless than all the coin in the world. Howdy slowly sits. His hand trails down as Poppy pulls her wings back, and his fingertips dance on the silvery smooth line of a fresh scar. 

“I’ve done all I can,” Poppy says with a gusty sigh. “So have the rest of you - again, well done. You all did splendidly.”

“I don’t feel splendid,” Sally croaks.  

“Well… you are. Quite splendid. Let’s get him up and to a bed.” Poppy’s first attempt at standing fails. Sally all but leaps up to help support her, and she laughs nervously. “I’m afraid that took quite a bit out of me. There was more to heal than I expected, dear me.”

“Will he be okay?” Julie asks. 

Poppy looks at Barnaby with a soft, sad look in her eyes. “I can’t say for certain. It’s up to Barnaby, now… all we can do is make sure he’s comfortable. A-and keep a close eye on him! There could be, ah… complications. Infections, and the like. Mh, I’m sure it won’t come to that, though. Sally’s fire should have burned out anything nasty.”

Howdy belatedly realizes that he needs to help carry Barnaby. He kneels on shaky legs and gently maneuvers Barnaby’s dead wei- unconscious weight to the side. Howdy slips his upper arms under Barnaby’s, using his lower set to help support his back. Eddie takes one side, Sally and Julie take the other. Poppy does her best to help, but she can only lift Barnaby’s unbloodied leg with her beak. 

They shuffle their way to a ground floor room. There’s plenty, but Howdy once again chooses to be selfish and brings them to one near to his own. Near is subjective - Howdy lives on the second floor, but the staircase to his private suite is as close to Barnaby’s temporary room as it can get. Barnaby will be sleeping right below Howdy. If anything happens, he’ll hear.

They get Barnaby onto the bed, and all of them breathe sighs of relief - and mild pain, in Eddie’s case as he stretches his back. Poppy asks for Julie to stay and assist her with getting Barnaby adjusted. 

Howdy doesn’t wait for a dismissal. He stumbles his way out of the room with Sally and Eddie in tow, his heart jackrabbiting. It feels like he grabbed hot coals, or swallowed a bolt of lightning. He’s shaky and ill and he just held Barnaby’s intestines in his hands.

Howdy leans over the bar and blindly grabs a bottle from underneath it. He uncorks it with his mouth, spits the cork to the side, and starts chugging. The alcohol burns as it goes down. It’s cheap, bitter, and easy to focus on. He comes up for breath with a small gasp and coughs, wincing at the aftertaste.

Cleaning supplies clatter as Eddie brings them out of the supply closet - Howdy wasn’t aware he knew where that was. It’s just a bucket of water and a scrubber. Not that he’ll do much good. He’s still caked in blood and mud. Dishes clink as Sally cleans up the ample messes that the patrons left behind. Howdy takes another swig and stares blankly at the shelf behind the bar.

The blank eyes of the Wally-puppet stare back at him. At least the real Wally wasn’t here to see that. Howdy doesn’t know what he would have done, or how he would have reacted… best not to imagine. In any case, Howdy hopes that by the time they find Wally, this whole experience will be nothing but another story. 

Howdy goes to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand - oh. Right. It’s still covered in blood. All four of them are. The blood glistens when Howdy holds out his hands. It’s warm and tacky, clinging to his fingers like sap as he spreads them. 

It’s Barnaby’s blood. 

These hands were inside of Barnaby’s gutted stomach, and Howdy can still feel the sickening heat and the way it all pulsed and twitched and-

Howdy copies Julie’s example and vomits into the nearest acceptable receptacle. The alcohol tastes better going the other way, even if it burns worse. 

Once the dry heaving stops, Howdy sinks to the ground, shaking with silent sobs. His legs curl up and he presses the heels of his upper hands to his forehead, hugging himself with his lower arms. The crimson-soaked fabric of his shirt squishes and sticks to his skin.

Everything Sally carries rattles, and every few minutes something falls. Chipped cups, shattered plates, clattering platters. After each breakage, she picks up the shards and keeps clearing the tables. The constant swish, swish, swish of scrubber bristles on wood fill the silence between rattling dishware and rolls of thunder. Eddie scrubs at the one spot on the floor, where Barnaby sat. The water he pours and scrubs quickly turns pink, then red. 

The door opens, letting in yet another gust of air. It slowly closes, and Frank’s shrill voice cries out, “What in the heavens happened in here?”

Anger rises sharply in Howdy’s gut - and vanishes as soon as it came. There’s no use in being mad at Frank - they didn’t explicitly go with Eddie and Barnaby on their day trip. He was gathering information. There was no way he could have known what would happen. 

Frank belatedly notices the thick trail of blood on the floor, and sidesteps it before rushing to Eddie. “Is everyone okay? Who’s hurt? That’s not your blood, is it-”

“It’s not mine,” Eddie says, not looking away from his task. Swish, swish, swish. When Frank reaches for him, he waves them off. “Stay back, it’s a mess. I’ll take care of it - I’m taking care of it.”

He isn’t taking care of it.

Frank takes a step back, his eyes wide enough that Howdy can see the whites of them clear across the tavern. Frank looks over the trail of blood, the puddle, bootprints, the smeared handprints, and the sheer amount coating not only Eddie, but Howdy too. Sally doesn’t make a move to acknowledge Frank as she stacks wood platters and ceramic plates. More blood stains her from where she kneeled in it, and laid across Howdy and Eddie. 

A scraaaaape precedes Julie backing into the tavern proper with a large tub of steaming water. Howdy makes a desperate sound and scrambles over to it. He thrusts his arms into the water and scrubs furiously at his skin and sleeves, ignoring the burn of the slightly too-hot temperature. Julie’s stare sears into him for only a moment before she takes a shuddering breath and steps out of the splash zone. 

“Frank!” she says a touch too loudly, oozing false cheer. “You’re back! Did you find anything?”

“Did I - what does that matter! Julie, what’s going on?”

“Oh, Barnaby got a little hurt, but he’s resting now.”

Frank incredulously gestures to the tavern’s general state. “A little hurt?”

“Barnaby’s fine now,” Julie reiterates. “Poppy is taking care of him.”

“How did - why did - what -”

Howdy slowly stops scrubbing. His skin feels raw under his fuzz as he stands, water sluicing from his arms. He unties his apron as he returns to the bar and tosses it over a stool. He sits on the one next to it and snatches the open bottle of - whatever it is. It’s alcohol. That’s what matters. He rests his head in his hands between acrid swigs. 

“Everything is okay! Poppy is the best healer around, it’s nothing she can’t handle,” Julie chirps. No one calls her out on the proven lie. She starts collecting straggling dishes alongside Sally. “We’re just helping Howdy clean up.”

In his periphery, Howdy catches Frank side-eyeing him. He chugs from the bottle for a moment and slams it back down, if only to make a point. Frank is the only one to jolt at the sharp bang.

Frank slowly crouches by Eddie, frowning deeper than normal. He mutters something too quiet for Howdy to hear from the other end of the bar. Eddie says something back - Frank lays a hand on his shoulder, and Howdy scowls miserably into his drink. His thigh itches.

Swish, swish- the scrubber finally stills. Eddie shoots to his feet, his armor clattering loudly, and he steadies himself against the counter as his other hand flies to his forehead. “Oh no. Oh, no…”

Everyone stills, and the tension in the room thickens palpably. 

“What is it?” Frank asks.

Eddie looks at Howdy with horror in his eyes. “We lost Wormie. Barn dropped his hat when we were ambushed - there was no time to stop. We couldn’t…”

“Show me,” Howdy says, leaping off of his stool and charging for the door. Eddie follows hot on his heels.

The rain is freezing. It soaks Howdy through to the bone as soon as he steps out from under the tavern awning.

Howdy doesn’t dare go back to get a coat, even if all he has on are his thin work clothes. The cold nearly knocks the breath out of him, but he focuses on the alcohol warm in his stomach and plunges into the storm. He slows just enough to let Eddie - and, apparently, Sally - pass him. She carves a way through the pitch black night.

Mud saturates Howdy’s boots and the cuffs of his pants. It sticks unpleasantly to his skin and only worsens the chill as they run past dark buildings. Few windows glow orange, proving how late it’s gotten. There’s no way of knowing how long it’s been since Barnaby was injured. Even with Sally,’s light, it’s going to be impossible to find Wormie in this weather.

Howdy’s eyes burn as they leave the town’s muddy streets and plunge into the terribly dark forest. What if they don’t find her? The thought is almost too much to bear. Howdy doesn’t think he could face Barnaby when - if - he wakes up. They’ve already lost Wally, and that alone has had Barnaby in shambles. But if they lost his beloved little worm, too? 

It feels like they run through the woods for hours. Eddie keeps slipping and tripping, but manages to keep his legs under him. Howdy’s mind whirls with what-ifs and maybes and hows and whys. Eddie and Barnaby were ambushed so far away - why did they come to Howdy’s tavern instead of going right to Poppy’s? How horrible was it to go all the way into town in that state, in this weather? What if Wormie drowned, or was trampled, frozen, taken -

“I think it was here,” Eddie shouts over the thunder and rain. A flash of lightning illuminates the ground through the waving treetops. 

“You think?” Sally says. Howdy wishes he had said it first - now is not the time for Eddie’s navigational dysfunction! 

“I don’t know, Sally! I wasn’t really paying attention on account of keepin’ Barn’s insides from spillin’ everywhere!” Eddie doesn’t say it to be cruel, Howdy knows.

It doesn’t stop him from feeling unsteady all over again, or stop Sally’s glow from dimming. He glances around like he expects to see more blood, though even if this is the correct area, the rain has washed any evidence away. Howdy turns in a circle, tangling his upper hands in his hair. 

There’s no way of knowing. There’s no way of finding such a tiny, sweet little creature- lightning flashes, catching on leather outside of Sally’s glow.

Howdy lunges for the hat, uncaring of how his knees sink deep into frigid mud as he snatches it up. The hat is grimy, but undamaged. Even Ms. Beagle’s feather is intact. But when Howdy turns it over, his heart sinks.

Nothing inside.

Nothing on the ground around it either, even when he digs through the mud to make sure. Eddie hesitantly touches Howdy’s shoulder, and Sally’s warm glow envelops his back. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says. He sniffles. “I should’ve grabbed her. I should’ve-”

“You prioritized our bard,” Sally says. “We can’t fault you for that.”

They can’t. Howdy… Howdy wants to, but he can’t find it in himself. He’s cold, he’s tired, he wants to go make sure Barnaby is being taken care of. He looks around a final time, blinking against the rainwater pouring over his eyes.

Nothing but muddy soil, bushes, trees, darkness. 

Howdy clutches the hat to his chest and stands, stumbling slightly. His friends steady him, and his face pinches. He shouldn’t have drank so much at once. It’s finally getting to him, and soon he’ll be of no use at all. He can already feel the faint buzz in his head.

“We’ll come back in the morning,” Sally promises, tugging gently on his lower arm.

Howdy makes a pained noise. She won’t make it to morning. It’s too cold, she’s too small. All they’ll find is her little frozen body. 

“Hold on.” Eddie holds out an arm to stop them. “Can you hear that?”

“It’s impossible to hear anything over this storm,” Sally says. 

“No, no… I’m sure I heard something. It was a - a little, it was a little…”

Peep.

Howdy’s waterlogged antennae snap upright, and he whips around to stare at a nearby tree. A past storm must have nearly blown it over, as half of the base seems uprooted. Gnarled roots arc and tangle out of the ground. Howdy falls to his knees in front of the dark hole under the trunk. 

Another peep comes from inside.

“Sal, I need your light,” Howdy says, fumbling for her. Her golden glow fills the space, and he nearly sobs. 

Wormie squints up at them, curled into a tiny ball and shaking like the wet leaves she lies on. Mud covers her colors - if her eyes weren’t open, one could mistake her for a twig. Her harness blends into the rest of her. She peeps again. 

“Hey, gal,” Howdy murmurs, reaching into the shelter. Her antennae make a feeble attempt at raising, and she stretches her neck out towards his fingers. He slips them underneath her and lifts her out, making sure to shield her from the rain with his body. 

“Thank the stars,” Eddie says wetly. “For a moment there I thought we lost her.”

Howdy curls his fingers around Wormie, his heart breaking at how violently she shakes. 

“Should I take her? She must be freezing, the poor thing” Sally says, holding out a hand. Howdy holds her out, and Wormie lifts her head as Sally’s warm glow washes over her. She blinks at the offered trade, then drops her head and nestles into Howdy’s palm. Sally retracts her hand. “Apparently not.”

Howdy hooks the hat over that hand, and Wormie lets out a mournful peep. He lets Sally and Eddie pull him through the forest, staying hunched over the hat and murmuring reassurances. He starts quietly crying again at some point. The rain washes away his tears and sounds. By the time they return to the tavern, he’s exhausted himself. They all stumble through the doorway as a soaked, grimy trio.

Julie and Frank flurry over to fuss over them, but Howdy staggers past their worries. All he knows through the cotton in his head is that he needs a hot bath. He leaves their chatter behind and makes his way down the hallway, only pausing to listen at Barnaby’s door. 

Poppy is humming to herself. Howdy sags against the wall for a moment, taking solace in how calm she sounds. For a moment, he imagines going inside and resting at Barnaby’s bedside, but… later, he promises himself. When he’s in clean clothes and feels less like collapsing. 

Climbing the stairs to his room is a feat in itself, but Howdy manages it without tripping over the steps. He closes his door behind him and sighs, tempted to just fall asleep on the floor and deal with everything later. But Wormie is still shivering in his hand, and he might as well kill two birds with one stone. 

The hat is placed on the table for cleaning. Howdy hates to let go of Wormie, but he places her on the crown while he runs a bath. Not for the first time he thanks his past self for investing in this revolutionary tech called plumbing. All he needs to do is turn a valve, and hot water pours right into a fixed tub in the corner of his large, open room. 

For a long moment he yanks at the valve, not understanding why it’s not working- ah. He’s turning it the wrong way. He blinks forcibly and twists the right way, and water pours out. He watches it drain until it registers that he should plug the tub. 

Oh, the headache he’s going to have when he wakes up…

Howdy strips as he makes his way back over to Wormie, leaving unsalvageable clothing items strewn about. It’s a blessing in disguise that he was drenched by the rain - it kept all of the blood from drying, so his shirt and pants come off easily instead of sticking to his skin. He’s still stained red underneath them. Howdy undoes his ponytail and picks up Wormie. He carefully loosens her harness and slides it off, revealing a patch of spring blue and green bands underneath. 

He holds her to his chest as he steps into the filling tub. Steam rises off of it, and it clears his stuffed sinuses. He inhales it grateful and sinks into the water, clenching his teeth when it laps over the punctures in his thigh. He closes the valve and settles with a groan.

Wormie peeps at him and looks over the side of his hand at the water with longing in her big eyes. Howdy carefully lowers her until the warm water pools over his palm. Wormie finally stretches out as he rubs his thumb over her. Mud flakes and sloughs off of her, and she wriggles happily. She dunks her face and thrashes a little to properly soak herself. He gently runs a soap bar over her until she’s nearly white from the suds, and lowers her into the water so only her head floats on the surface.

Once she’s clean, Howdy grabs a small hand towel off of a nearby shelf, soaks it, and piles it on the side of the tub. He places Wormie on it and she happily starts burrowing. It occurs to him that he could look for some sort of floatation device for her, so that she could splash around to her tiny heart’s content, but just the thought is exhausting. So, a waterlogged towel it is. 

Before Howdy completely ruins the water by scrubbing more blood and mud into it, he washes his hair. The rain had already undone the ‘do, so at least he doesn’t have to scrub out the styling paste. He squeezes the water out as best as he can and slicks it back.

Watching the red caking his skin dissipate into the water is nothing short of a relief. He stops when he gets to the minor injury Barnaby left him - he can’t tell if he bled or not. If he did, it was overshadowed by Barnaby’s blood. He sits on the edge of the tub to better inspect it.

The wounds are shallow and nothing to write home about. They don’t need bandaging, though even if they did, the time for that has long since passed. Barnaby must not be dulling his claws like he usually does. Thankfully they weren’t entirely sharp, or Howdy suspects he’d have much larger holes in his thigh. Three punctures on the outside, one on the inside. Howdy opens the water valve a smidge just to wet a fresh towelette and properly clean the wounds. It would help no one to get them infected - Poppy needs to save her energy for Barnaby.

By the time he’s satisfied with his cleanliness - if he weren’t so tired, he’d have gone for a fourth round of soap - Wormie is dozing in her damp towel. He opens the drain before grabbing a fresh hand towel, this one dry. He carefully lifts Wormie out of it and wraps her in the soft fabric. Her eyes open for only a moment before she settles again, purring. 

For a long few minutes, Howdy just sits and holds her, watching her antennae twitch as she falls asleep. He absentmindedly rubs the towel, and Wormie’s purring increases as she’s dried. 

The sound of the last of the water draining pulls Howdy’s attention away from the tiny animal. He carefully gets out of the tub and puts Wormie back on the table, still wrapped up. Once again, he looks longingly at his bed. 

Howdy dries off and dresses in loose sleep pants and leaves it at that, not wanting to bother with a shirt. He rarely sleeps with one on, anyway. Too much of a hassle. He slips Wormie out of her towel and brings her downstairs, once again having to move slowly with much paid attention as to not fall with his leaden legs.

Poppy emerges from the room as Howdy reaches the ground floor. She turns and startles. “Oh! Howdy, you startled me. You look much better… though your hair is still wet - you’ll catch a cold if you leave it like that.”

Is it? Howdy brushes his fingertips over cold strands plastered to his neck. Oops. 

“Are you alright? You look quite unsteady…” Poppy comes over to him and squawks softly, her neck pulling back. “Is that alcohol? Howdy, are you drunk?”

Howdy shrugs one shoulder. Talking takes focus and time, but he manages, “I may be a little tipsy. No worries.”

“Many worries, dear.” 

“How is he?” Howdy deflects as he walks past her, partially leaning against the wall. He nudges open the door and rests against the doorframe. The blankets cast over the small room’s bed rise and fall in stark contrast to how shallow Barnaby was breathing earlier. 

“On the mend,” Poppy murmurs, following him inside. He slumps into the armchair already pulled up to the bed. “He might sleep for some time… he’s been through quite an ordeal. Anyone would be tired after so much healing, let alone after… well.”

Howdy carefully places Wormie on Barnaby’s neck. She stirs, and starts forcibly purring as soon as she registers the shade of blue underneath her. She doesn’t perform her usual party-seizure like she usually does when seeing Barnaby - she just burrows into his fur. Howdy has to wonder if she’s simply exhausted, or if she can tell that something is wrong. 

“I don’t believe we’ll encounter any complications with his health, thank goodness” Poppy says. “By my estimates, he should be up and moving within the week. I’d like him to remain on bedrest for a few days more than strictly necessary, but I doubt he’ll want to stay put.”

If Howdy weren’t so worn out, he’d tear up yet again. 

Of course he won’t stay. Barnaby will charge out the door as soon as he’s able, hellbent as he is on finding Wally. No one can blame him. The others will likely continue the search tomorrow, if not the next day. All Howdy can hope is they find something promising for Barnaby to wake up to.

He crosses his upper arms on the bed and pillows his head on them. He fights to keep his eyelids open, watching Barnaby’s peaceful face. He looks calm, his features holding no hint of pain. A warm weight drapes over Howdy. 

He starts to lift his head, but Poppy says, “It’s just a blanket. Rest, Howdy, you need it. Barnaby will be here when you wake up.”

Howdy means to thank her, but the word comes out as a weary sigh. He lets his eyes slide shut, and slips into deep sleep a second later.

[daisywords]

bet y'all didn't know that, like any cliche writeblr, I too have a vampire romance wip

[euripidestrousers]

Look I'm in total agreement that in reality Remus is a soggy, sad piece of white bread, a real limp noodle who would much rather run away from a confrontation and fight, much less be a big Dom alpha with a deep voice, who's soft and quiet but intimidating when he has to be

I'm aware. It's ooc.

But it's still hot. It's hot. You're all correct, it's ooc, but it. is. hot.

And I'm perfectly happy to read my little fics, kicking my feet and giggling, about big, tall alpha Remus and feral powerbottom Sirius when the mood strikes, full well knowing it's not the most canon representation of the characters

[kristannafever]

Second Chances

Kristanna Modern AU Rated: Explicit (See tags) WC: 3163

Summary: It's been eight months since Anna's ex broke up with her in a brutal way. Her concerned sister sets her up on a date, and when she meets Kristoff, it does not go well. Afterward, upon getting an earful from Elsa, Anna realizes her mistake and goes about making things right. What happens between them afterward gives them each a second chance at love and the life they both want to have.

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

“Anna, I am breaking up with you.”

Anna nearly choked on the sip of coffee she had just taken.  She stared at her boyfriend with wide eyes, not sure what she had just heard.  “What?”

“It’s over.”

Panic began to well in the pit of her stomach.  Her hands started to shake as she set the coffee mug back down on the table.  “What do you mean?”

He heaved a dramatic sigh.  “You heard me.  We’re done.”

“Where is this coming from,” she pleaded, getting up and walking over to where he was standing in the kitchen.   He’d just gotten back from his run.  When he left the house, it was as if nothing was any different.  And now he was telling her that they were done?

He rolled his eyes.  “Oh come on, Anna.  We haven’t had sex in weeks.  And when we do, you’re so…” he moved his hands around like he was fishing for the word, “…uninspired.   I mean, you don’t even give good blow jobs.”

Tears welled up in her eyes.   She had thought the problems they were facing were just a bit of a slump.  Just the day before she’d gone out and bought some sexy lingerie to surprise him with after the romantic dinner they had planned for that weekend.   Was that not happening now?

“Oh, and just so you know,” he said casually as he turned away, “I’ve started seeing other women.  So I can get… you know… taken care of.   You don’t even know how to kiss properly.”

Anna felt sick to her stomach, watching helplessly after him as he walked towards their bedroom to take a shower.  Despite having said some mean things to her from time to time, what he had just said was downright cruel, and she felt ashamed of herself.  She felt stupid and pathetic. 

Wiping her eyes, she went back to the table and sat down slowly, staring into her morning coffee that she’d actually been enjoying only a moment ago, trying to figure out in her mind what had just happened.  The long and short of it?  She didn’t please him and he’d been seeing other women. 

How had she not known this?  She had thought everything was just… normal.   He had never been a very enthusiastic lover, and he always met his end while Anna had to often take care of herself, and now she had to wonder if it was because she was just that bad at pleasing a man?

He'd been her first serious boyfriend.  Her first real love.  The first guy she’d ever moved out with.  And now all that was coming crashing down around her.   Three years of her life, gone, just like that.

Anna buried her head into her hands and sobbed.

~   ~   ~   ~   ~

“This is a nice place, Anna.”

Anna didn’t respond, she just let her sister in without a word.  The apartment had been his, of course she had to move out when he dumped her. 

Her sister turned around at Anna’s silence.  “You know I hate that man for what he did to you.”

“I know,” Anna said through a sigh.  “I hate him too.”  She told Elsa that he had cheated on her but she did not tell her sister the awful things that her ex had said to her.  And they hadn’t ended in the kitchen that day.  She had begged and pleaded with him for hours afterwards and was met with yet more harsh comments on what an awful woman she was.

Anna led them into the living room and poured them each a glass of red wine from the bottle that was sitting on the coffee table.   She watched her sister as her eyes went around, taking in the small apartment before settling onto her gaze.      

“So, have you been on any dates?”

“Elsa…” Anna sighed with frustration.  “Why won’t you drop it?”

“Anna, it’s been what?  Eight months?  You need to move on.”

Anna was silent and looked down into her wine.  She knew she needed to move on, but how could she do that?  Apparently, she had nothing to offer a man.  What possible hope did she have of making something work.

Elsa set her wine glass down on the table and turned towards her on the couch.  “I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to get out here sooner.  Work has been incredibly demanding, only now that I see you, I feel like that is a pathetic excuse.”

She frowned.  Did she really look that bad?  “It’s okay, Elsa.  I know how important your job is.  And you still call me almost every night.”

“I do, which is probably why you’re tired of telling me you need to get back out there.  You have to see that it’s time to live your life again, don’t you?”

Anna did know that.  And she wanted to, desperately.  But what man would want her?  She’d been hit on a few times only to brush the guy off knowing that she would end up disappointing him in the end.   If she was honest with herself, she didn’t think she’d be able to stomach going through that again.

“Listen, Anna.  I have a friend who’s fairly new to our firm who happens to have moved from here.  She has a brother, and she says-”

Anna’s eyes went wide.  “No way, Elsa.  I am absolutely not about to be set up right now.”

“Please, Anna.”  Elsa reached out and grabbed her free hand.  “For me?   Please?  You can’t be afraid to start dating again.”

She pulled her hand away from her sisters and set the wine down on the coffee table as she got up.  “No.  Absolutely not.”

Elsa followed her as she walked into the kitchen.  “Give me one good reason why you won’t?” her sister demanded. 

Anna pursed her lips.  She would never breathe a word of what her ex had said to her to another living soul, and that was giving her little option for an excuse.   “I… don’t want to.”

Her sister put her hands on her hips.  “It’s just one date.  Who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky.  Maybe what you need is a night of hot sex to get back on the horse.”

Her face lit up with heat.  “What the fuck, Elsa?  I do not need to hear that coming from my sister.”  Not only that, she did not need a reminder of how awful she was in bed.  It was a constant source of shame that hung over her head.

Elsa gave her a gentle smile.  “Sorry.  I was just trying to make a point.  You have to stop keeping yourself from things that make you happy.  You haven’t even gone to the gym or hung out with your friends since you left your ex.”

“He dumped me, but yeah, I know I haven’t.”

“You need to start living again.”

Anna heaved a deep sigh.  Perhaps it was time.  She’d certainly seen plenty of men who she thought were attractive.  Enough that she’d pleasured herself to the thoughts of being with a man again.  That at least she knew she wasn’t bad at.  In fact, she was practically an expert at getting herself off now. 

“Can I tell my friend yes?”

Anna looked to her sister’s pleading eyes.  “Fine.  One date.”

~   ~   ~   ~   ~

The bar was packed, making it hard for Anna to pick out the man that she was supposed to meet.  She’d been given a general description.  Tall guy, big build, blond…  Anna had formed many mental pictures in her mind of what he might actually look like.

She was told that he’d be somewhere in the bar waiting for her, and every blond Anna looked at seemed to already be on a date or clearly out with a group of friends.  The guy Anna was looking for was supposed to be alone.

She muscled her way to the bar where groups of people were gathered around the stools and talking, waiting on drinks.  Then she spotted a blond man sitting at the end, surrounded by women.  The guy was absolutely huge; his t-shirt stretched tight over his biceps and chest.  And he was gorgeous.  His rugged handsomeness was undeniable.  That was why there were women all over him.

Thinking that couldn’t be her date, Anna went to turn away, when his eyes caught hers and widened with something like recognition.

“Hey, are you Anna?” he called to her over the music and loud conversations

She nodded, not wanting to shout back to him, and he got up from his stool and approached her.  Every single woman he was surrounded by watched all of his movements with lusty interest.

His imposing height loomed over her. “I’m Kristoff,” he said, sticking out his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Anna responded, shaking it and thinking it wasn’t nice at all.  Not after he’d been hanging out with all those stunning women while waiting for her to show up for their date.  What the hell?  Who does that?

“They’re super busy and wouldn’t let me grab a table until you showed up,” he said.

He already sounded bored.  What the hell had Anna gotten herself into.  “Okay.”

Kristoff shrugged and took off to find a table.  Anna followed, kind of hoping they wouldn’t find one.  The guy was clearly someone who could get whoever he wanted and probably often did. 

Towards the back of the bar near the bathrooms, he spied an open table and made a b-line to it.  Anna sat on the stool across from him and put her purse on the edge of the high table.

He smiled.  “It’s quieter over here too.”

There was nothing but cool confidence behind that smile and Anna squirmed again thinking of how many gorgeous women had been salivating over him moments before.  “You sure didn’t waste your time talking to the other ladies, I see.”

He frowned.  “They were talking to me.  I wasn’t talking to them.”

Anna rolled her eyes.  “Sure.  A guy like you must just hate it when women hang all over him.”

His unhappy face turned into a scowl.  “What are you saying?”

“Look, I agreed to go on this date, but not with a player, okay?”

Kristoff became emotionless.  “Have me pegged, do you?” he asked evenly.

Anna could only shrug.  “It’s not that hard to figure out.  The reason a guy who looks like you is single, is that he wants to stay single.”

He stared at her, expression impossible to read.

“Lets just save us both time.  I refuse to be a conquest, so you can just go back to all those ladies at the bar who can barely keep it in their pants.”  Anna got up, keeping her eyes off his unreadable face, feeling relieved.  She didn’t even want to go on this date in the first place.  She was almost glad that this guy, as hot as he was, wasn’t going to work out.

Anna spared him a glance as she turned away and was a little shocked to see profound sadness in his eyes.  It was almost enough for her to turn back around and say something. 

Almost. 

~   ~   ~   ~   ~

Anna looked at her ringing phone.  It was Elsa.  She let out a long sigh and answered.  “Hello?”

“What the fuck, Anna?  Why the hell did you brush off that date last night?”

She groaned inwardly.  This was not a conversation she wanted to have.  “He wasn’t my type.”

“Bullshit!  My friend talked to her brother and he told her what you said to him.  That was pretty awful, Anna.”

She frowned.  Had it been?  She was only speaking the truth.  “Well… you didn’t tell me the guy was a total player.”

Elsa huffed with frustration.  “He’s not!  He hasn’t been on a date in a year!”

“Elsa, he had women, and I mean gorgeous women, all over him when I arrived at the bar.”

“And he was what?  Flirting with them?”

Anna thought back to the scene at the bar.  One of the women had her hand on his arm and was talking his ear off, another one giving him fuck me eyes from his other side, two behind him waiting for their turn, and he was… sitting there.  He was staring at something.  Or was it nothing.  Then he’d looked over and his eyes had widened… they kind of looked a little… well at the time it looked like recognition but thinking back, they seemed a little more… relieved?

Anna gasped.  “Oh no, what have I done?”

Her sister sighed.  “Anna, you might need to talk to someone.  I don’t know what Hans did to you, but it was something.   I have doubts that he was never abusive to you even though you assured me that he never was.”

“He said some mean things, Elsa.  That’s all.”  Anna would give her that much, no more.  Not ever.  No one would ever know of her humiliation.

There was silence on the other end of the line for a beat.  “So maybe you said some things you didn’t mean to a nice guy because you are still so scared of putting yourself out there?”

Anna’s stomach rolled with unease to think about the hurtful way she’d brushed Kristoff off.  “Yeah.  I guess I am.”

“Well, at least you can recognise that.”

“Elsa, I feel terrible.  Is there any way I can get his number?  To apologise?”

“Well…I can ask my friend, although I have to warn you, she was pretty pissed that you treated her brother that way.”

“Please try, Elsa.  I feel awful and I need to tell him that I am sorry.”

“Alright.  I’ll call you back in five, okay?”

“Okay.”  Anna hung up the phone and rung it in her hands.  She could not believe she’d been so mean to someone and tears sprung in her eyes.  It made her feel terrible to think she’d said something hurtful to someone.  It reminded her of what her ex had said to her, and that Kristoff guy did not deserve that, even if he was a player.

Her phone rang in her hands and startled her to the point she almost threw it across the room.  “Hello?”

“Okay, I got the number.”

“Oh, thank you, Elsa.  Thank you so much.”  She sniffed.  “And tell your friend-”

“Anna, are you crying?”

She nodded and started to sob.  “I feel so bad, Elsa.  I was so mean to that poor man.  Please tell your friend to tell her brother that I am so sorry and that he can expect me to contact him to say so that I can apologize and-”

“Anna… Anna!”

She sniffed and reigned in her emotions.  This was insane.  She needed to get a grip on herself.  For all those months she carried all that hurt when her ex broke up with her and it was all starting to come out after treating someone else poorly.  It was becoming a little clearer to her that there were some issues she was going to have to deal with, and soon.

“Anna?”

Sniff.  “Yeah?”

“You need to stop beating yourself up about this, okay?”

“What if he doesn’t accept my apology?” Anna asked, wiping her damp cheeks. 

“Well, then I guess you just have to live with it.”

She shoulders slumped, suddenly exhausted.  “Yeah.  I guess I made the bed I have to lie in it.”

Her sister was silent on the other end for a moment.  “Whatever happens, Anna… it’ll be okay.  Everything will be okay.  You’ll have plenty of other chances.”

Anna nodded to herself, steeling her emotions for the text she was about to send.  “I know.  Thank you, Elsa.”

*****

Kristoff looked at the text from the number that he did not know, and set the phone down in contemplation.

He knew it was coming.  His sister had called him and given him the heads up she’d passed his number along to the woman who was so rude to him last night.  To say he was conflicted was an understatement. 

He hadn’t been hurt like that in a while.  Which was weird because he didn’t know this woman.  It was just that she passed him off so easily that it made him second guess himself a bit.  In retrospect, he should have been ruder to the women vying for his attention at the bar.  Why couldn’t this Anna understand that he had absolutely zero interest in them.  Instead, she’d taken one look at him and decided he was one of those pigs that used women as conquests.  And that fucking hurt.

That was why he’d agreed to be set up.  Trying to meet someone on line or even in a club brought out all the wrong kinds of women for him.  He had yet to meet someone that was looking for something serious, not just some fun fling or one night stand. 

He sighed, and read the message again.

Hi Kristoff, this is Anna, the woman who was rude to you last night and who you wish you probably never met.  I need to say that I am sorry for how I acted and what I said to you.  Clearly! I have issues to deal with.  I would hope you have it in your heart to meet me quickly so that I may apologize in person.  If you wish to never talk to me again though, I completely understand.  If I don’t hear back from you in a couple of days, I will assume I have my answer and delete your number.   I am sorry.

It read like an email, and quite frankly a little bit of a cry for help.  He certainly had his own issues, and he could not deny that her acknowledging her own had softened his attitude towards how she had treated him.  It wasn’t like he was exactly innocent of never behaving poorly when he was dealing with things.  When his sister had let him know to expect her to contact him, he just shrugged and assumed he’d delete the message and move on.  Only having read it and its sincerity…

He started typing.

Hi Anna.  Thank you for reaching out.  Please don’t be too hard on yourself.  If you would like to talk, we could meet for a coffee?

He read it three times and hit send before he changed his mind.  He’d just set his phone down when it dinged.

He chuckled.  “That was fast.”

Thank you so much Kristoff!  Would tomorrow work?  I could meet you at 11 at that coffee shop that’s just on the corner of 10th and Elm?

He typed back;

Sure.  See you then

Anna immediately hearted his message and he set his phone down.  He’d been watching the game on TV and he turned his attention back to it, only in the back of his mind he had other thoughts about how seeing this woman again was going to go.

---

Next Chapter

[batbirdies]

Chapter 22 of The Penny Drops, The Penny Dreads out now!

Get it while it’s hot! :3

For any potential new readers:

Jason’s background as a victim of abuse and childhood homelessness means it’s hard for him to trust, and to ask for things. After only a couple months in the manor, he still isn’t sure about Bruce Wayne.

___

When you come from nothing, it’s hard to adjust to having everything.

Tags:

[joshriku]

ages ago i asked for prompts on twitter and i think ava had requested cherik + bodyswap, and i forgot i wrote that til i found it looking at my files so i figured i'd also post it here ages later lol it's too short for ao3! but perfect length for tumblr.

-

“I don't know how you do it,” says Charles. 

His voice—it's Erik's, no doubt. Words coming from his mouth, his body. His body, that Charles is currently inhabiting. 

“Do what?” asks Erik, with—with his voice, God damn it. This whole situation is so strange. 

It's supposed to wear off in a few hours, said the other teachers. Just a mutant learning to control their powers, nothing else. But now Charles is Erik, and Erik is Charles, and it's been the most insanity-inducing hours of his life. They haven't left Charles' room, as they decided to spend this ordeal as quietly as possible: in bed, reading. 

“This. Alone with your thoughts,” Charles says. “I'm miserable. And overstimulated, even though I am not doing anything. It's…” 

So much. His skin is prickly, impossible to touch. He can sense the clock ticking—not just the one inside the mansion, but everyone's. Phones buzzing or vibrating. The kitchen. Jewelry. The televisions. The satellites. The cities further away. The core of the Earth—

Erik takes his hand. Charles takes a moment to note how different his own hand is, when he's being touched—this is not comforting. So many times he's held someone, held a student, tried to comfort them with a gesture. And now that he's being comforted by his body—God, he should never be close to people.

“Breathe in,” Erik tells him. “Narrow your focus to one thing. Try your wheelchair.”

It's such a big power. To narrow it to something so small like his wheelchair feels like an impossible task, but then he notices a little helping hand: it's sloppy and careless, but the undeniable sensation of a telepathic push. Erik’s not good at it—good God, how is he holding up with all those voices?—but he’s good enough to guide Charles to his objective.

His body slumps against the bed, once the world is reduced to just the wheelchair.

“How do you do it?” Charles repeats. “It’s so quiet. It’s so lonely. And this power—it’s too great, I’m afraid. How does your body not fall apart? How does your mind not fall apart? How do you—”

Erik cuts him off. “I am wondering the same thing about you, as we speak. There is so much noise. People cannot stop thinking, not even for one second. How do you not go insane?”

He supposes the same questions he asked have the same answer Charles would give Erik: you get used to it. You settle into it like a second skin, until one day you no longer get to think about it.

“You get used to it,” he says, although he knows Erik must have heard it, anyway. His grip on Charles’ telepathy isn’t that good—Charles presumes he doesn’t know how to leave his mind. Erik hums anyway. “I suppose it’s more impressive right now, to be in a body where—it’s truly yours. Mine, it feels like it shares a bit with every single person. I cannot stop myself from seeing through their lenses, even for a second. I guess being alone right now—truly and well alone, it just… makes me wonder. How you don’t go insane. How you talk to people, how you are such a good judge of character. I can only be one because of my powers, and even then, I can go so wrong.”

Erik raises an eyebrow in his direction. It’s so odd, looking at his face. Does Charles really look like this? No wonder he got into so many arguments. He’s rather annoyed at that face.

“Funny, again. I have been pondering that myself. If I could listen to every thought, every sentiment, and every motivation behind someone’s actions—well, perhaps I’d become a hermit. It takes incredible strength to do this. I admire you.”

Charles smiles a little. “I suppose we are both so exceptional,” he says. He squeezes Erik’s hand again, trying to focus on Erik’s body, wanting to be held by it instead. “Only a few more hours to go.”

“Maybe we won’t go insane in three hours,” Erik smiles back. “Who knows? We have got plenty of time.”

[e-b-reads]

Even though I have so many projects I could be working on instead...I recently embraced the inevitable and started thinking, what if I wrote a cozy mystery series set at a summer camp? My writing process is generally: concept -> handwrite rough outline -> type more detailed outline -> write first draft, and I guess you can tell where I'm at on what could become book 1!

(Concept: the main character and first person narrator is a nonbinary camp director who came out relatively recently and moved at least a little way from home to sort of start over. Meanwhile, their friend and co-director of the camp the two of them started recently, is a stereotypical cozy mystery protagonist: she moved back to the former summer camp once run by her grandfather in the town where she spent her summers, and she keeps finding bodies and also romancing the detective. Our narrator ends up detecting too, just to keep their friend out of trouble.)

[kittlesandbugs]

BG3: Little Hero Characters: My Dark Urge, Nox & @sidestepping's bard TAV Hero (ty for letting me play around with her 😘) Warnings: None Word Count: 534 Summary: Just a little chat between Nox and Hero in the aftermath of a certain Bard's untimely demise...

She sits by the fire, face placid, dancing light turning pretty brown eyes amber. But there's a subtle tension in her spine, a pensive pout upturning the bow of her lips. Concern about you, you suspect. You walk up behind her, soft grass and troubled thoughts muffling the leather soles of your shoes to her sharp ears. 

"Are you afraid, little Hero?" 

She startles with a swear, more crass than the usual poetry and insults that fall from her well-tuned tongue. Your meaty hand steadies her shoulder before she can slide off the log. You hadn't intended to sneak so quietly, but you can't say her reaction doesn't give you some perverse bit of amusement. 

"Of what?" she bites back and bristles like a cornered kitten, not-so-subtlety inching away as you step over the log and settle down beside her. Even seated, you dwarf her petite form. 

"Me," you say simply. Your hands are empty, but you both know you'd need no weapon to end her fragile life. 

To her credit, she retreats no further. Her lips twist in a grimace, but the retort dies before it can leave her lips. She schools herself back into passivity, mostly. There's an agitated twitch in the tips of her pointed ears. 

"I don't have to play at night if you don't like it," she says, a placating simper in her tone and large hound brown eyes. 

You shake your head and chuckle, low and deep in your throat. You look down at your pale hands, long clean now of the tiefling bard's warm sweet lifeblood. "I don't think it was the lute that triggered it."

"Oh…" She seems surprised at that, and you feel her interest sharpen into a blade despite her dulcet gaze. You think she might feel safer now, the similarity to your victim's career no longer spelling her endangerment. "What did, then? Why did you kill Alfira?" 

In your lap, your hands flex as you try to think. But your memory between crawling into your bedroll the night before and waking soaked in a bloodbath is as blank as a fresh sheaf of parchment. You shake your head again, throbbing with a dull headache for the effort. "I honestly don't know. I wish I did."

"Does it trouble you? What you did?" 

"No," you sigh, forthright in your admission. You massage your aching temples, hoping for some relief from your near constant headache. "It troubles me that I don't know why I did it." It also troubles you have no memory to savor, but it's clear no one else feels the same joy you do about spilling blood. Some perversion of your torrid forgotten past, no doubt, and best kept to yourself. 

"Do you think it will happen again?" she asks, curious but cautious. Hopeful. You can feel her weighing if your risk is worth your protection. 

"I hope not. But I'm sure whoever is on watch will be watching me as well now." You huff an amused breath, almost certain few of them could even stop you if you wanted to do them harm. "I'd prefer there are no repeat occurrences myself."

Not any that you don't choose to commit, at least. 

[gracelesslady23]

em!!! sirius turned girl AU pls 🥺 i know i’ve read snippets before but i’m absolutely obsessed

hfkjshdfkhs thank you so much Pen! I am so pleased you still remember this little fic <3

“I’ve heard stories about – and erm, I could, erm – use my tongue on you, down there,” James said haltingly, nodding to Sirius’s pyjama clad lap.

Sirius blinked at him.

“I don’t have to,” James added quickly. “I haven’t ever… you know, before, I know its probably a rather intimate, erm…”

“No,” Sirius said, cutting across James’s awkward rambling. “No, I mean, yes I think I would like that.”

“Oh, alright,” James said, already he felt almost sick with anticipation. He’d barely even been allowed to kiss a girl before and now he was being given permission to the press his mouth against the most intimate part of the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen…

Sirius shimmied out of her oversized pyjama bottoms. James swallowed back another wave of arousal at newly exposed perfect skin. Her slender legs seemingly extending for miles, her hips rounded softly before narrowing to a slender waist.

There was only one tiny piece of clothing left on her. Seemingly, without permission, James’s eyes rested on her pretty red panties, the sight snatching the air from James’ lungs. Merlin knew where Sirius had managed to get such perfectly fitting female underwear on such short notice, but James appreciated the ingenuity.

The pants were simple in design, but in the same fiery red as the Gryffindor colours. In fact, on closer investigation, James couldn’t help but notice, they featured a very familiar, delicate golden stripe through them. Almost too similar to parts of the Gryffindor uniform.

“Did you transfigure those?” James asked.

Sirius grinned wickedly. “From a Gryffindor tie.”

“Right,” James said weakly.

“If it helps,” Sirius said, leaning close so her lips brushed against James’s ear. “I couldn’t find my spare tie, so I used one of yours to make them.”

“How would that help, after what I just told you?” James growled, pressing down on his hard on as it throbbed threateningly at this disgustingly appealing little titbit.

[starcunin]

just a reminder that you CAN send me more than one meme if you want, i like having options in case one doesn’t land.

[yangcherie]

people are following me, i just gotta say actually i work at my own pace. like. you could have radio silence for six months or ten new works in one week. jus sayin

[piratewithvigor]

Regal The Professional: Chapter 3

It's not professional to steal dope from crooked cops and it's not professional to turn away an offered favor. Leon The Professional AU but make it found family

AO3

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

The mattress never had any kind of blankets on it when Regal moved in. None of the beds he’d ever seen in any of the apartments he’d ever lived in actually did. It didn’t change the fact that buying and carrying around a blanket from apartment to apartment was far more trouble than it would be worth. It isn’t as though he sleeps much anyway. The bed is far more useful for a morning exercise regimen. A truck strap thrown across it and tightened against his feet gives him an ideal spot to start with sit ups. Certainly a better place for a workout than a good night’s sleep.

~

Next door, Trent’s alarm is finally sounding for 8am. He’s got four entire hours left to come up with the missing 10%. Impossible, of course, it was half snorted away by the end of the first week. Now it was just the leftovers and the last little bit that he’d cut two days before. That had probably gotten a little snorted this morning. Just a final extra hundred in his pocket. And probably the tenth percent. In short, the entirety of the missing shipment was gone and unless he could convince Jericho that he had a faulty machine, it was going to stay firmly and completely gone. That was the story Jericho was gonna get, anyway. Maybe fessing up a little would get him off a bit easier.

The bed’s empty when he pushes up and out of it. Chuck in the washroom, getting ready for work, most likely, and Orange probably still passed out in front of the TV after the night before. Same as usual. The apartment never feels big enough in the mornings, with everyone running around everywhere. It’s only gotten smaller since the kids came around. The boarding school was supposed to solve half the problems, but with this extensive nighttime closure, it’s practically all back to normal anyway. Wheeler’s still around, watching cartoons for most of the day, definitely not doing shit around the house. And Kris still makes a mess wherever she goes even though she’s four now and should damn well know better.

Breakfast is always the worst. Everyone’s trying to use the kitchen at the same time, getting in each other’s way. Trent just wants his coffee and a smoke while a pop tart warms. Always a massive favor to ask when the kids are toasting their own things. God forbid they just have a bowl of cereal from time to time. Trent’s still grumbling to himself between the bedroom and the kitchen when the bathroom door swings open, almost nailing him in the face.

“Sorry, babe!” Chuck singsongs, far too chipper for this time of day. He’s already a snifter in and will probably take another right before he leaves for the diner. He’s insisted that until he gets a lower-stress job, a light rail is the only thing that’s gonna get him perky enough to get tips. Trent can’t argue it, but he is pretty sure that if Chuck just quit, they’d be saving whatever he loses in tips. It just isn’t a fight Trent wants to have when Chuck is the only one with a steady, legal job. Steady being he’s kept it for six straight months, a record since they’d all met.

Certainly longer than Orange has kept one. He supposedly has a degree for some high-paying job, but if he does, Trent’s never seen the benefits from it. And very rarely sees Orange actually have a job besides showing up in the news as part of editorials on rising public drunkenness. Never arrested for it, thank god, but he’s been cutting it closer and closer every day. He always ends up back at home, slung across the couch, wearing his sunglasses, as if he’s fooling anyone. He might pretend he’s fooling the kids, but there’s no way the two of them are actually that dumb.

~

He can turn it down quietly enough that it won’t wake Orange, Wheeler’s certain. The TV is never usually that loud anyway. He can turn it on and make sure it’s quiet enough that Orange doesn’t get disturbed. He just has to be quick.

He doesn’t usually get this chance. The remote almost always stays on top of the set with no way of reaching it without passing by Orange, usually waking him up and always pissing him off. But someone left it on the table. The one that just so happens to face the TV. He can watch something with breakfast, anything would be more entertaining than plain toast. No butter again, since Chuck forgot to pick it up. No juice, either. Just the stuff for coffee and Trent’s pop tarts that he would probably kill to defend. Toast is just safer, even if it’s boring. Even Kris agrees from her spot at the table. Wheeler can tell she wants to ask for butter, or maybe even jam, but she knows better; if they had any, Wheeler would have offered. He’s a good brother that way.

~

“Oh Chuckie… think I really blew it this time,” Trent mumbles from behind Chuck at the bathroom sink.

“Mm. Wouldn’t be the first time.” He’s still too chipper. Maybe he shouldn’t be giving Chuck so much in the mornings. “But you’ll come up with a way to fix this, you always do.”

“Might have actually gone too far this time. Think the only way to soothe my nerves is a quickie…” Chuck may hate his job at the diner, but the uniform’s pants look damn good on him.

“You’re going too far right now, you’re gonna make me cut myself,” Chuck pouts, trying to steady his hand to retaliate against Trent’s groping. “Can’t settle bleeding and get to work on time.”

“Just work from home today…”

Tempting offer. And on coke, a quickie doesn’t take quite as long as fixing a cut…

~

Wheeler’s practiced the muscle memory on the remote over and over. Power, then volume down as fast as he can. It’s two buttons, there and back. He can turn the volume down before the picture even fully comes in. Kris is watching with just as much anticipation as Wheeler takes the plunge and presses Power. The box is just heating up as he rapid-presses, faster than he’s ever even pressed a crosswalk button. Unfortunately, pressing the volume up. Especially unfortunately, on Transformers. On a fight scene, to boot. Orange pops up from the couch before Wheeler can even attempt to figure out where he made the mistake. He’s wearing his sunglasses, but the anger is clear.

To his credit, Orange dishes out the lightest punishments. Trent will throw whatever he can reach quickest and Chuck punishes with spankings, just like when he was growing up. Orange is usually too tired to do any more than take away whatever Wheeler’s doing at the moment and sometimes a smack upside the head if he’s been really stupid. Apparently waking up his hungover dad by blasting the TV beside his head is stupid enough. A quick smack and throwing out his toast, not a word said. It embarrasses Wheeler more than anything else. Especially when Kris rips her toast in half and offers him the other half. She’s such a good kid. She knows they can’t make a sound as Orange takes the remote and almost tosses it behind the couch after turning off the TV. The whole apartment seems to know it can’t make a sound. Everything except for the phone.

“Can someone get that?” Trent calls from the bathroom.

“I’m busy!” Orange snaps, plopping down on the couch, already looking half dead.

Wheeler sighs and pushes up from the table to retrieve the phone in his parents’ room, the only landline they can actually afford, or so they say (Wheeler’s got a lot of suspicions about why they only have one landline, and most of the reasoning is because of illegal things).

“Hello?” He asks into the receiver, trying to sound as grownup as possible. He doesn’t sound much like any of his parents, but if the person on the other line can’t figure out the same, there’s a chance he’ll get to hear some very interesting news.

“This is Mr. Castagnoli, headmaster at the Gruber School. Could I speak to Mr. Beretta please?”

Well this is a no-brainer.

“This is he.”

“Mr. Beretta, when you enrolled Wheeler at this school, you did mention that he had certain… ‘troubles’, shall we say. As you know, we pride ourselves on turning troubled boys into productive members of society, but if they do not attend the school, there is very little we can do. This is the third time we’ve tried to reach out to inform you that Wheeler left school without permission nearly two weeks ago. At the beginning of the year, tuition was paid in full for the semester, but unless there is a reason for Wheeler’s absence, the tuition will be forfeit.”

~

The school year started in early June, right when the public schools ended. Some parents put their kids in just for the summer to keep them from getting into trouble on the streets and some kept them year-round. Wheeler had been the second category. Shipped off with a suitcase of clothes and an order to obey his teachers. As if he actually would.

All of the public schools had labels for him. The classics, of course; “difficult”, “attention issues”, “won’t listen to authority”, “hyperactive”. But then there were some that were a little bit more interesting: “emotionless”, “creepy”, “we had to add new rules to the school because of something Wheeler did with a chicken pot pie, a bucket of paint and seven live rats” (he’d been particularly proud of that last one).

Mr. Castagnoli, when Wheeler had first met him, cut a bit of an imposing figure. He was standing in the entryway of the school, hands behind him and wearing a suit that was just on the verge of being too small. He almost looked like a soldier. Wheeler wouldn’t have been surprised if he had been one in a past life. He didn’t move a muscle except for looking down when Wheeler climbed the steps of the school. He hadn’t seemed so from a distance, but up close, he was a little taller than Wheeler expected. It threw him for all the more of a loop when he stuck out his hand for Wheeler.

“Master Yuta, I presume?”

“Yeah?”

He’d looked down expectantly, like to continue this conversation, Wheeler was going to have to shake his hand. He really wasn’t all that much of a troublemaker, but staring down a summer spent in a stuffy old building getting taught summer school was about as appealing as a case of jock itch and left Wheeler about as excited. He made his feelings about as clear as possible without being rude by looking between Mr. Castagnoli’s hand and back up to him, not making any movement to take it. Mr. Castagnoli, to his credit, got the picture.

“I see. Starting off on this foot. Well, that’s your decision.” He turned to open the door, clearly only holding it open as a result of his own proper upbringing and not because he had an inclination to be impressing him.

It took Wheeler all of two hours to decide the Gruber School was the last place on Earth he wanted to be. None of the boys there were anything short of psychopaths, setting fire to things and pulling wings off insects just for fun. Kids who didn’t have much in the future except prison. The same could probably be said for Wheeler, but he didn’t think he was quite as demented as them. The less time that could be spent at school, the better. The fact that he could just leave and then take a cab home just proved how little it mattered if he was actually there.

~

“He’s dead.” Wheeler slams down the receiver. Hard enough that he hopes the message is clear: don’t call back, forfeit all the tuition they want. He’s not going back now or ever.

~

Out of everything he can be bothered to take along from apartment to apartment, one of the longest-lasting has been his ficus. There’s no emotional story for it; he bought it from a shop about three years before. It had been sitting in a window in a plain clay pot and seemed rather happy there, so Regal makes an effort to give it the same conditions here. Keeps it on the table in the living room and out of the path of the AC during the evening and leaves it in an open windowsill during the day. It airs out the room, makes his ficus peppy and makes it seem as if a respectable member of society lives here.

There’s no work to be done today. None that he’s gone to seek out. Tony knows where to find him if there’s a job that needs his touch and he’s not aching to take any normal jobs. Yesterday’s has the month’s rent paid and keeps him well-stocked in milk, so he’s fine. He can take the morning off. There’s a matinee at the classic movie theater a few blocks away. A decent way to kill time until noon. There’s some little part of him deep down that makes him think it wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world to at least be home in case something happens. That maybe he’ll be able to help somehow if either party starts getting stupid or violent. Given what he saw the day before, the chance is more than high enough.

The theater’s playing Some Like It Hot when Regal arrives. About five minutes in, but it doesn’t matter too much. He’s seen it before, after all. Probably a hundred times. The story of two men who stow away with an all-girl band after witnessing a murder, disguised as women. It never gets old, no matter how many times Jack Lemmon admits he’s a man and Joe Brown says he’ll marry him anyway because nobody’s perfect.

Not quite how it worked in the real world, but that’s what movies are for.

~

Wheeler’s not sitting this time when Regal reaches the landing of their floor. Not kicking his feet and not smoking. There’s some part of him that’s glad he’s not; it’s not a good habit to have for kids who like to live a long time. Nothing seems out of the ordinary until he notes the way the boy is turning his body, like he’s angling away from Regal on purpose, hiding something.

Thankfully, he’s about as good at hiding a nosebleed as he is at hiding a cigarette. As if no one ever taught him to pinch his nose with a tissue until it stops. Though after hearing some of the things that come from their apartment, he’s not all too shocked. He hands the boy a handkerchief from his coat pocket.

“Is life always this hard?” The boy mumbles. “Or is it just when you’re a kid?”

“Hasn’t been easy yet.” He’s not sure if he means to comfort or reassure the boy, but he doesn’t seem all too upset by his answer, so it must have been the right one. “Keep the handkerchief.”

The boy nods and looks down at the stained cloth. It probably wouldn’t serve much use in any other way at this point. Not much of a gift, but certainly more than he had.

“I’m going grocery shopping. You need some milk? You usually get two quarts, right?”

It’s… a strangely neighborly offer. Regal hadn’t picked up any after the movie and it would never hurt to have a little extra so he wouldn’t have to go himself later. He’s caught off-guard enough to only nod an affirmative. The boy seems strangely jubilant with the new task. Maybe as an excuse to get out of the house. Must be it. There’s no other reason a child would look so excited to do a chore. Especially one he’d clearly been procrastinating on by standing on the landing instead of tending to the nose bleed as he went down the stairs.

It’s another thing to weigh on Regal’s mind as he pulls off his coat and goes to fetch a glass of milk. The odds weren’t very good that the boy simply gets the occasional nosebleed. About as likely as him having fallen off his bike the day before. The man in the apartment next door seemed like a much more likely source for both.

[metalbvcky]

I finish writing my longfic of 2+ years and suddenly my brain opens up completely to a new big story LOL

[kristannafever]

Second Chances - 8

Kristanna Modern AU Rated: Explicit WC: 2584

Chapter Index

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

A week later, Kristoff had the ring burning a hole in his pocket.  He was beyond excited to propose to Anna, only he wanted to make it special.  He called his parents to impart their help on that.

The first time they’d met Anna, they were trilled.  His Mom was especially happy that Kristoff was in a serious relationship, and as she confided in him later, with someone who seemed better suited to him. 

It wasn’t that they didn’t like his ex, they just didn’t realize how wrong she seemed to be for him until they met Anna and fell in love with her.  And Kristoff had to agree, knowing the feeling very well himself.  He was growing more and more grateful for ending it with his ex and not trying to talk to her to make things work.  His idea of a family did not include being a single father of a kid the mother had no interest in.  As much as he tired not to think about it, he did know his ex, and if he had mentioned that he was ending it because he wanted a child, she would have told him she wanted the same just to hang onto to something that had been over long before Kristoff put a stop to it. 

The family restaurant, like many in the area, was closed on Mondays.  Not the most romantic day of the week to pop the question, but one that suited his needs quite well.   And as soon as he asked his parents about it, they were thrilled to help him plan. 

They entered the empty establishment and the Matre’d, Chester, gave Kristoff a proud slap on the back after he locked the door and guided them inside.   He’d known the old man as long as he’d known his own adoptive parents and considered him just as much family as them.

It was all laid out in candles, and with the fireplace alight, the small space had the best mood lighting he’d ever seen.  Anna gushed over it, making his choice feel validated that he insisted the only illumination in the place come from a flame.

Their table, the same one they dined at the very first time, the best seat in the house, was decorated by a gorgeous bouquet of red roses.  Chester took the liberty of pulling Anna’s chair out so that she could sit, and then offered Kristoff the seat beside her instead of across the small square table.  It was perfect, as they both sat at an angle facing the wonderfully warm fireplace. 

Chester took his leave to allow them their privacy and Anna looked over at him with shimmering eyes.

He chuckled.  “You know exactly what this is about, don’t you?”

Her smile widened, her eyes blinking back tears.  She nodded slowly. 

Kristoff took a calming breath.  He knew this was going to happen right away and told his family to leave them alone until he brought Anna himself into the back office to share the good news. 

He shifted his chair back and slipped off of it, sinking to one knee as he pulled the ring box out of his jacket pocket.  Anna’s eyes never left his as he moved, and the emotion he saw in them closed up his throat and made the backs of his eyes burn. 

“Anna,” he said slowly, pulling in a shaky breath.  “I am so grateful for you coming into my life.  Despite the first impression not going so well.”  He chuckled.

Anna laughed with him, wiping tears out of her eyes with her fingertips.  He swallowed, his throat restricting to the point that he just had to let go and cry.  He relaxed his fight against it, and tears filled his own eyes. 

“I am grateful,” he continued, “that I met you when I did.  I didn’t know a soulmate existed, until I met you.  You are everything I have ever wanted and needed, Anna.  You are the most amazing person I have ever met.”  He paused, wiping his eyes and swallowing hard.  “My heart, my soul… they belong to you.  Will you marry me?”

Anna nodded slowly, smiling and wiping more tears from her cheeks.  She offered him her hand and he slid the ring on her finger.  A perfect fit. 

She looked from his eyes down to it a moment, and then back at him.  “I am grateful too, Kristoff.  I feel the same way.”

She made the move to slip to the floor with him, only he didn’t want her to kneel with her dress onto the tile, so he stood up, pulling her with him and grabbed her into a firm, gentle, loving hug, as they both broke down into soft sobs of thanking whatever the fuck might be out there to thank that they got their second chances with each other.

-----

As soon as Kristoff kissed her, she forgot about the gorgeous ring on her finger for the first time that entire evening.  They were in his truck in the parking lot of his family’s restaurant, going at it in the back seat.  She wasn’t even sure who had started it as they walked, full and happy from one of the best and most important dinners of their lives, to the vehicle.

“We can’t do this here,” she said between kisses, thinking that the arc sodium’s in the parking lot were not going to conceal what was happening in the truck should someone come out to investigate. 

“I know,” he moaned, and pushed off of her to sit awkwardly in the seat.  His eyes flicked around the cab of the truck as if he was trying to figure out what to do next.  Then he looked right at her.  “You know what?  Fuck it.”

He grabbed her and pulled her against him, kissing her forcefully.   Anna had to agree with him… fuck it.  Because she wanted him to fuck her so desperately that she couldn’t care less if anyone spied on them. 

“At least, your back windows, are tinted,” she said between kisses, as her hands worked on getting his pants and underwear down so that she could have access to his glorious manhood.

“And they are fogging up,” he said with a smile, helping her get his jeans pulled down to his ankles.

As soon as she had what she waned, Anna pushed Kristoff’s back against the back of the seat and crawled into his lap, reaching under her skirt and pushing her panties aside.  When that was accomplished, she lowered herself down onto his cock, moaning loudly. 

Kristoff shifted his hips forward to make more room for her knees, and as soon as he did, she was able to take him in all the way.  She shuddered and started to kiss him again, rocking back and forth.

Amid the pleasure, the ring finally popped into her mind again, and she pulled from his lips and brought up her hand to look at it. 

“I can’t wait to marry you,” she said, eyeing the gorgeous ring, then looking into his eyes.

“I can’t wait either, Anna.”  He smiled, his hands caressing her back as she moved herself against him.

Anna put her left hand on the foggy window behind his head, leaning forward to get a better angle of her body against his.  “It still boggles my mind how much I love this,” she muttered, focusing back on her growing arousal. 

He laughed quietly.  “Probably as much as it boggles mine.  I’ve never been this horny in all my life.  I swear I think about this almost every damn second.”

Anna giggled.  “Honestly, me too.  Like way too much.  I guess that’s why we have so much sex.”

Kristoff moaned softly.  “Yes.  And we’re going to have to do this again when we get home.”

She nodded, her breathing becoming heavier as her lower abdomen began to tighten.  “Definitely.”

There were no more words between them, just steady breathing and occasional soft moans.  It didn’t take Anna long to reach her release, wrapping her arms around Kristoff’s neck and pulling his lips to hers as she came. 

It felt so damn good and she was still absolutely blown away by Kristoff.  Thinking back to her fantasies about having sex with him before they’d actually done it, weren’t even as close to as incredible as it actually was.   She truly had no idea that there could be so much pleasure in making love.  And perhaps the fact that it was love was what made it so special. 

Her ex and her had said “I love you” to each other, only they sounded hollow in her mind now compared to how Kristoff and her said it to each other.  And they said it constantly.  A far cry from the occasionality she’d said it with her ex.  And it was always her who said it to that jerk first.  Not with Kristoff.  She’d be lucky if she got to it before he did. 

“Fuck, I love you so much, Anna,” Kristoff whispered, pulling her from her thoughts.

She smiled at him.  He was too good to be true.  “I love you more than life, Kristoff.”

He kissed her again and she started to move with him when he bucked his hips up.  It didn’t take long for him to reach his climax, and he moaned into her mouth as his cock pulsed deeply and powerfully within her.  Anna savored every one of those strong throbs. 

“When are we going to get married?” she asked him, suddenly thinking that as soon as they were wed, she was going to get her IUD removed so that she could get pregnant.  There was a sudden and overwhelming need to have his children.  How could she not?  He was so amazing and incredible, Anna still didn’t understand how someone as wonderful as him came into her life.

“Whenever you want.”  He smiled.  “We just have to pick a day and plan it.”

Anna grinned back at him.  “I want to do it as fast as we can so we can start a family.”

His eyes remained fixed on hers intently.  “Yeah?”

She nodded.  “Yes!  I can’t wait to have babies with you, Kristoff.”

He stared at her, his eyes starting to shimmer with tears.   He swallowed hard.

Anna knew he was struggling with his emotions, so she grabbed his head gently in her palms and pulled him in for a soft kiss, letting him know that she understood.

He hugged her tightly, resting his chin on her shoulder and sniffing quietly.  They remained in that embrace for a long time, then separated so that they could go home and make love again.

*****

Anna was tracing little shapes on his bare chest.  He laid on the bed with his eyes closed enjoying the feel of her fingertips on his skin. 

“How many kids do you want?” she asked. 

Only a moment before, when they’d finished making love, she brought up her desire to get pregnant as soon as they were married.  It made his heart soar.  He’d never been so in love with someone, and she was ready and willing to make the sacrifices of pregnancy to give him his dream of a family.   If he lived to be a thousand years old, he would never truly be worthy of her. 

“Honestly, Anna, I always just pictured two.  You know, so our kids grow up with a sibling and we don’t go broke.  How many do you want to have?”

“Seven,” she exclaimed.

His eyes shot open and he looked at her.  “Seriously?”

She laughed.  “I’m kidding.  I’ve never been pregnant obviously, but from what I know about it I don’t want to go through that seven times.”

Kristoff chuckled half-heartedly.  “Yeah, I understand.  I can’t imagine even going through it once.” 

Anna regarded him carefully for a moment.  “I see two, definitely.  But maybe I also see three or four?”

He rolled over so that he could look directly into her eyes, becoming serious.  “Anna, I have to admit that as soon as you said you wanted to start making our family, I’ve kind of been sick with the thought of something bad happening.  You know… to you and to…”  He swallowed hard.  He couldn’t even say it. 

Anna reached out and cupped his cheek.  “I understand, Kristoff.  I know there are risks and complications.  But I do not want that to stand in the way of us having the family we both want.”

“Me either,” he said quickly.  “I just… I dunno, it’s all so damn real all of the sudden.  I just…” he shrugged, “I worry.”

Her sweet smile melted his heart.  “Don’t worry, baby.  Whatever happens, we can get through it together.”

“While everything is happening to you though.”  He frowned.  His sudden melancholy was upsetting him but he had no idea how to make it go away.  “It’s so much to deal with.”

“I can handle being pregnant,” Anna said softy. 

“I know.  That’s why men can’t have babies.  There’s no way in hell we could handle it.”

She grinned at him.  “That is true.”

Kristoff heaved a heavy sigh, unable to match her smile.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean for our wonderful day to end like this.”

“End like what?  Having an open and honest conversation?”

“No.  For me brining up negative shit like that.”

Anna leaned in and kissed him softly.  “I am glad that you are being honest with me, Kristoff.  Don’t ever hold back your feelings.  And if it makes you feel any better, I am all for doing this in a hospital surrounded by doctors in case something goes wrong, and getting an epidural so that I can be as comfortable as possible.”

Finally, the side of his mouth turned up.  There was no one who could lift his spirits like Anna.   “No water birth at home?”

Anna chuckled.  “Gross.  No thank you.  And I’ll have you know we are absolutely not doing one of those bullshit gender reveal parties.”

Kristoff feigned a disappointed look.  “No party to announce the gender of the baby?  Why would you deny me of that?”

Anna laughed harder and smacked his bare chest, making him grin. 

She said, “I know for a fact you think they are as stupid and wasteful as I do.”

“Absolute cringe,” Kristoff agreed.

Anna smiled at him, eyes scanning his.  “Make love to me again.”

He nodded and leaned in to kiss her.  His fears were dissipating in her embrace and he vowed to himself that he was going to do everything humanly possible to make sure that Anna had everything she wanted and needed when she was pregnant.

“I can’t wait to dote on you when you’re all knocked up,” he said between kisses.

Anna giggled and pulled her face from his to look at him.  “What if I want ice cream at three in the morning?”

“I’ll go to the all-night gas station and buy all they have.”

“What if you cook dinner and half way through it I start craving mac and cheese?”

“I run to the stove and make that shit for you.”

“What if-”

“Anna,” he interrupted, “I mean it.  Anything, and I mean anything you want or need, I am your man.”

She let out a sensual breath.  “You are my man.  Now make love to me.”

Kristoff kissed her again and didn’t stop until they reached their climax together.

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[feralthembo]

i wrote a fucking PAGE of fanfic tonight and im shaking the bars of my enclosure