coldheartxd

[coldheartxd]

— 𝗮 𝗽𝗿𝗮𝘆𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗼 boreas.

the first frost encroaches on silent, soft paws.

the second frost is felt, heard, and seen by the son of boreas. in the blue-black hours of morning, he hears the cold murmuring and whispering across the world beyond his cabin’s frosted windows, waiting patiently for the trees to strip themselves bare and welcome it home with open arms. that is when he goes out, bundled up, towards the deep woods readying themselves for the arrival of winter.

it felt like a pilgrimage sometimes, walking past sleeping birds and drowsy wildflowers, moving through the forest as if he was part north wind.

north wind. a draft of change, upending everything that precedes and leaving nothing for what follows. but from that nothing comes growth, from barren to flourish, and the season goes on like so.

on days like these, lars does not resent his father. on days like these, he feels the richness of his domain, the change that winter can bring about, and perhaps, faith. there are tracks in the ground.

a boar, a few feet ahead. he puts it down mercifully. then he brings it back to the kitchens, vacant in the early hours, and skins the animal. it is almost mystical how many parts of a game you can pare off and divide for various usages. but today, he uses them all to prepare a meal. the meat is grilled on a hot iron pan, smothered by garlic and herbs, whereas the bones get reduced to a thick, shimmery sauce. he nestles it all with autumnal vegetables from the last harvest, plates it up as well as he could. then he brings it to the temple, upon boreas’ statue. the plate gets rested on a small basket, still wafting a trail of steam as lars kneels in front of his father. stoic-faced he remains, but when he looks up at the stony visage of the man, he does feel him a need for connection. or at least even, a sign, a presence. the last time he had felt his father’s presence was during the snowstorm upon the night of helene’s missing.

“there was always one empty seat at dinner,” lars speaks. “mother insisted on keeping it there, in hopes that you would one day walk in from the cold, but i wanted to have it removed. she wanted another meal with you.” he clenches his jaw, feeling the muscles there tauten. those memories should not be painful now for a man made of ice, for his heart was the very first thing to harden, but lars has been thawed enough for the ache to begin again.

yet perhaps, this ache could bring about change, like the north wind itself.

“the meal is for you,” he says, almost to no one in particular - unsure if anyone would heed the words. “i need you as much as you need me. i am your shield and your flail, i am the warden of our enemies. if this meal strengthens you, then lend me the same strength in return during my time of need.”

images of simon, lifeless on a dark floor and dead for a meaningless sacrifice, flash back in his eyes. he clenches his hands to fists. 

“to protect him. to protect them.”

the third frost comes from him, slowly unfurling across the temple floor as intricate patterns of ice that grow outward from his standing place. his next exhale is slow, gradual, and visibly white. 

and lars waits, as still as unbroken ice, for what or who may respond.

[coldheartxd]

the test of fate has been, supposedly, a success in his favor.

but even as he holds the prize, the icy shard of fear has not been dislodged from his chest. it may in fact be gradually freezing outwards and spreading, spreading, spreading like slow patterns of frost. after a long, long time, he is afraid. afraid of what he has to lose, what he has to leave behind.

standing at the center of the training grounds, sweat beads on the northman’s skin and a broken dummy lies at his feet, splintered near unrecognizably by the weight of the maul that had struck it. lars yanks the large weapon back to rest on a shoulder, panting, and does not look at whoever is approaching until very late.

but the familiar face earns a more-than-cursory look. then an eventual nod. “had a chance to rest?” he asks. “saw you take a bit of a fall during the trial.”

@hvrricaneromeo

[coldheartxd]

“the sex was ...” he exhales into a grin this time.

“it squeezed out of me what i had been keeping for a long ass time.” there is a kernel of truth to that. lars had put up his walls so high to guard whatever was behind, but simon expertly scaled the length nonetheless.

and now he looks at the other and sees him truly for what he is, both the man and the mirages, all the versions he is in this single moment, still undoubtedly enraptured by each one. “i was scared, too.” his tone dips to mirror simon’s, confessional. “first during the fight, second during the bridge. haven’t felt fear in a long, long time, si, not like that.” the pinpricks of something rise up at the back of his throat. he swallows it roughly. but his eyes do gleam when they look at simon’s again.

“but for the record, i would have fought death myself for refusing us a fair shot. for taking you too soon. you know that.”

he hangs his head. softly, he says the rest: “everyone deserves a chance at living. at a family. even assholes like us.” a thick chuckle. then it’s eyes back on simon. “if you run towards danger again without me, i’m grappling you. swear it."

"I was scared."

this was true for when he was yelling at lars, as proxy for yelling at anyone, at everyone; the rules were changing, survival of the quickest didn't seem to be the way to go, and simon was confused. at himself, mostly.

this was true when the heartsong started and one life ended, creating a terror so profound that everyone who made succeeding look so easy would expect anyone and everyone to try, despite the risks.

this was true when the bolt flew from his crossbow, parting the dark hair on the back of olivia's head, before he'd ended both their lives with a single shot.

and then lars smiles over at him (down at him), and the layered memories of fear seem to melt. simon doesn't smile back, but his frown lifts a little, and maybe that's enough.

"good to know it wasn't the sex." since he'd met lars, and rode lars, in a single night, and it wasn't his body that won the man but his fury, his frenzy, his fear. "can't say when I knew. but I think it was slow. bit by bit. every time you came back -- every time I didn't have to fight to make you see me, hear me." simon's voice dropped, just for the two of them, despite being alone. "there it was, a little more."

[coldheartxd]

only when the boreas cabin door latches shut, do his bones find the comfort to lay themselves down. home. it was a strange word that had taken on a whole new light these past few months, especially as he turns towards his moon-eyed lover.

a home, almost lost. lars sighs, equally in both relief and resignation, as he walks up to the other and puts his arms around simon’s waist. “fuckin’ did it,” he mutters. the sensation of solid ground under his feet is a luxury. the cabin’s cold yet strong walls, a relief. and the yellow-and-white gleam in simon’s bright eyes?

something he would have done this death march all over again if he lost it.

“do you remember the time you were pissed at me?” lars asks as a thought on tugs him. “in the woods. after you got me potions. shooting at a tree.” a smile tugs the left corner of his lips. “think i’ve been in love ever since.”

@roguelunatiic

[coldheartxd]

the desire flowed out, the love ebbed in.

his arms gathered around simon’s torso to feel, to embrace, to fuse their bodies together so that their heartbeats sync through fabric and skin. and for but a moment, his entire world was only the steady thud, thud, thud of the other’s heart. 

lars was fully content with it. as he let out a tiny burble of laughter, he knew. . 

all the world could burn or drown but he would still live if simon’s heartbeat does.

lips met simon’s neck when his head lolled back, kissing the skin and lingering. warmth suffused through his skin, his flesh, his goddamn soul even, that he felt as if he was a hearth burning on love. do it. “okay,” lars panted at the answer. “i–” it took a second for him to return back to their current predicament. bare-assed in a grubby paris alleyway, painting the walls. 

he chuckled before he took a step back and put his briefs back on. “wouldn’t be a vacation if there wasn’t some of me in you at all times.” lars lobbed simon his clothes back. “thanks for indulging the sudden, uh, alley urges. 

for a second, simon felt a little bad for trying to rush lars.

but that only lasted a second.

there wasn't any lingering concern as lars uttered those now-familiar words, driving home with his hips, pinning simon against the wall -- as if he'd want to be anywhere else, at that moment. it's then, that he realized. 'sigh'. si. simon. his eyes blew a little wider open, as lars' wad blew up inside him, and he sighed as he settled further down on that dick.

"do it."

he wasn't in his right mind, or his left one either; he was just, whole. and hale. and heartily fucked, and in the process of being bred, and blissed out on everything lars was giving him. while he wasn't sure what he was daring lars to do, he knew that lars wanted to do it, and maybe a little bit of a dare would push him to cross that finish line.

as breaths and shoulders settled, simon let his head fall back on lars' shoulder, and he let himself let out a breathy little chuckle.

"how'm I not gonna get cum on the seat at the restaurant?"

[coldheartxd]

the words brought him back to the present, to the alley around them. lars tilted the other’s jaw back, sealing their lips together, all as his hips began fulfilling the task of why they were here in the first place. the cockhead jabbed to its own frantic rhythm - quick, heated, a mating pace. groans poured into simon’s mouth. 

“i love you,” lars gasped aloud when the kiss broke. the movements now came like a tide, rise and dip, hips rolling together in a passionate dance. “wanna make you mine, si. forever.” the words came out slurred, unbidden. all true, too. then they melted into a long, drawn out exhale-moan, as the first of lars started to unload into his boyfriend. 

lars’ fingers explored and indulged, but simon’s words rang true. his needs followed each syllable down the line. then he pushed his trousers down, palmed his cock to align it, and then- a bass note of a growl, escaping deeply, gutturally from the northman’s chest as heat welcomed him. he pushed forward. the heat expanded. every inch was taken with relative ease, that puckered rim all but softened by the morning’s affairs and the current one at hand. “si,” the word came laced in a rasp. simon was so incredibly, extremely warm, and he sought after that divine heat by a rough slam of his hips, making the other’s cheeks bounce. 

fuck, he was losing all sense. his arm wrapped around simon’s mid-waist, holding the other up while tethering himself here, too. and if it makes him feel the other’s core bloom to accommodate his second thrust, then so be it. his hips rolled forth again not a moment later. slow and heavy, every inch felt, pure breeding strokes. “fuck,” lars gasped, mouth dry. half-delirious, he whispered against the crook of other’s neck, “gonna blow all of me inside you, baby.”

[coldheartxd]

lars’ fingers explored and indulged, but simon’s words rang true. his needs followed each syllable down the line. then he pushed his trousers down, palmed his cock to align it, and then- a bass note of a growl, escaping deeply, gutturally from the northman’s chest as heat welcomed him. he pushed forward. the heat expanded. every inch was taken with relative ease, that puckered rim all but softened by the morning’s affairs and the current one at hand. “si,” the word came laced in a rasp. simon was so incredibly, extremely warm, and he sought after that divine heat by a rough slam of his hips, making the other’s cheeks bounce. 

fuck, he was losing all sense. his arm wrapped around simon’s mid-waist, holding the other up while tethering himself here, too. and if it makes him feel the other’s core bloom to accommodate his second thrust, then so be it. his hips rolled forth again not a moment later. slow and heavy, every inch felt, pure breeding strokes. “fuck,” lars gasped, mouth dry. half-delirious, he whispered against the crook of other’s neck, “gonna blow all of me inside you, baby.”

as simon turned, lars pressed forth almost by instinct, slotting against the open curve of the his back. to lars, simon represented a freedom of exploration, an unmoored sense of self, and a steady push on his boundaries. from day one, the other had challenged him in all the best ways and all for the better, even when he would put his walls up. now there were no walls - metaphorical ones at least, as he pushed simon up against the solid physical wall they faced and freed the other’s moon globes. three fingers soon delved in between simon’s cheeks as suggested, and lars let out a small groan at the inviting warmth they immediately found. “still good from the hotel this morning,” he muttered, pacing it to the curl of his fingers curled within simon. lars withdrew the digits then for a bit moment, so he could slick them with spittle and slip past the puckered rim once again. 

the stretch of that rim drew a soft, awed breath from him as he looked down at it. “fuck,” lars said, almost reverently. “you should see what i see. it’s fuckin’ wonderful. you’re wonderful.” the words were soon sealed by a kiss, his free hand guiding simon’s jaw to meet his hungry lips. 

[coldheartxd]

as simon turned, lars pressed forth almost by instinct, slotting against the open curve of the his back. to lars, simon represented a freedom of exploration, an unmoored sense of self, and a steady push on his boundaries. from day one, the other had challenged him in all the best ways and all for the better, even when he would put his walls up. now there were no walls - metaphorical ones at least, as he pushed simon up against the solid physical wall they faced and freed the other’s moon globes. three fingers soon delved in between simon’s cheeks as suggested, and lars let out a small groan at the inviting warmth they immediately found. “still good from the hotel this morning,” he muttered, pacing it to the curl of his fingers curled within simon. lars withdrew the digits then for a bit moment, so he could slick them with spittle and slip past the puckered rim once again. 

the stretch of that rim drew a soft, awed breath from him as he looked down at it. “fuck,” lars said, almost reverently. “you should see what i see. it’s fuckin’ wonderful. you’re wonderful.” the words were soon sealed by a kiss, his free hand guiding simon’s jaw to meet his hungry lips. 

he let loose an unfiltered laugh, meant only for simon and the alleyways of paris. “shit. making me sound better than i am,” lars shook his head with an incredulous grin. “all i am is a guy who fell for another guy. and i’d do anything,” he emphasized this part by tapping a clenched fist against simon’s chest, “anything for him.” 

and anything to be with him. lars’ following kiss was a bruising press between their mouths, a prerequisite for his hands to soon tug and pull and unzip both of them, all until he felt hardness against hardness. lars rolled his hips for some friction between their fronts, growing low when it came through. “gonna’ need me to open you up?” the words were all breath, heat, and anticipation. “or want me to go in raw?”

[coldheartxd]

he let loose an unfiltered laugh, meant only for simon and the alleyways of paris. “shit. making me sound better than i am,” lars shook his head with an incredulous grin. “all i am is a guy who fell for another guy. and i’d do anything,” he emphasized this part by tapping a clenched fist against simon’s chest, “anything for him.” 

and anything to be with him. lars’ following kiss was a bruising press between their mouths, a prerequisite for his hands to soon tug and pull and unzip both of them, all until he felt hardness against hardness. lars rolled his hips for some friction between their fronts, growing low when it came through. “gonna’ need me to open you up?” the words were all breath, heat, and anticipation. “or want me to go in raw?”

he was already caught in a daze that simon always brought on, mouth beginning to pepper the male's scruffy jaw with kisses. much akin to the effect the moon had on tides, lars rose and fell to the call of the other's lunar gravity.

the answer to that remark left as a low grunt, which roughly translated to a 'yes'. then lars quickly keeled to his own needs, making his hands lower and honor his public indecency comment by taking a handful of that shapely ass. "fuck, you're like ... a bowl of soup on a cold night."

was that a romantic analogy? he didn't know.

maybe axel's poetry lessons would have helped a little.

but simon didn't fall in love with his poetry, that much he knew. so he took the other's hand and pulled him into the nearest alleyway, all before he pinned his lover against the first wall he saw. breaths came ragged, excited. his grin reflected all of those sentiments. "you okay with this?" he still asked, wanting simon to be comfortable above all else. the thickening outline of the cock in his jeans could wait.

[coldheartxd]

the tip of his fingers slowly collected frost, icing the bruised skin underneath. "sure it isn't just you being selfless?" lars asked with a raised brow. he had seen axel's worst fears, felt the other's loneliness around himself like a sodden blanket, and so, getting a beat on what axel may had been thinking wasn't so hard. a child raised to put others above himself becomes a man who takes care of everyone but himself.

but if taken care of was what axel needed, lars would gladly step up. he thumbed the bruise with his icy fingertip before he let his palm completely settle over the other's cheek, soothing whatever ache had been there. healing wasn't lars' forte. however, he tried to at least numb the other's pain, even if only for a while.

"remember that we need you alive," he reminded. "you are the one who keeps us up."

it's funny how two words can fill him with relief and guilt in equal parts. the former because there weren't many in their group who on par with lars when it came to protecting people. the latter was because the last thing he wanted was for someone to stress out because of him and his actions. they all have enough of a burden on their shoulders without adding to it.

his eyes closed at the touch, axel resisting pressing into it. "I can heal myself but it usually takes a lot of effort and doesn't heal as much as when I heal you guys." in the amount of time he could try and marginally make himself feel better, he could do much, much more for multiple people. "by the time I was done trying to keep people up, I was out of juice and on my way back."

[coldheartxd]

he was already caught in a daze that simon always brought on, mouth beginning to pepper the male's scruffy jaw with kisses. much akin to the effect the moon had on tides, lars rose and fell to the call of the other's lunar gravity.

the answer to that remark left as a low grunt, which roughly translated to a 'yes'. then lars quickly keeled to his own needs, making his hands lower and honor his public indecency comment by taking a handful of that shapely ass. "fuck, you're like ... a bowl of soup on a cold night."

was that a romantic analogy? he didn't know.

maybe axel's poetry lessons would have helped a little.

but simon didn't fall in love with his poetry, that much he knew. so he took the other's hand and pulled him into the nearest alleyway, all before he pinned his lover against the first wall he saw. breaths came ragged, excited. his grin reflected all of those sentiments. "you okay with this?" he still asked, wanting simon to be comfortable above all else. the thickening outline of the cock in his jeans could wait.

as far as simon's able to tell, this -- this, here -- is the only possible 'happy' iteration of his story.

even a simon different by a single degree was a miserable shit, from as far as he was able to tell. kissing in secret, stealing anything he could get his hands on, no real connections aside from one that couldn't seem to face what it was. but neither did he. or, the 'other' he.

in this story, simon has lars and lars has simon, and otto squirms between them as they kiss, and simon does the mean thing and click the weird fancy egg to put the creature to bed for a while. the space between them was left open, but simon pulled to close it rather quickly.

"probably," he says, before smiling against lars' lips. "but fuck 'em. wherever you want, big guy. just don't make me walk six miles after."

since lars seemed to love like a man wanting to become a father, despite the impossibility of the endeavor.

[coldheartxd]

lars hummed thoughtfully around a mouthful of soup.

after a beat, he replied, "i worry." the answer was not one he would have willingly surrendered a few months ago, but now he laid it bare. the stacks had gotten dire these past few weeks, all because he had more to lose than to gain. letting people in had been a liberation and a curse.

whatever brief spell of tenderness had befell the northman, he quickly broke free from it. "fuck pumpkins. they give autumn a bad name." he chuckled lightly. then, looking up, lars narrowed his eyes at a bruise on the other's face before he reached out to brush a cold finger against it. "you tried healing it yourself?"

axel resigned himself to a series of chuckles and groans as he was left under marsh's charge. he didn't have a lot of experience with dogs (and none with any of this size) so he really was at her mercy. he did his best to pet and give her the attention and affection she seemed to be wanting from her new friend.

with the distraction of bones for marsh and soup for himself, axel found a place to sit and did as he was told. "don't have to worry about that." he gave a contrite smile. "simon and a couple others killed the weird pumpkin monsters. they just had a bad habit of blowing up- and that's how they got me."

[coldheartxd]

marsh may have been reasoned with for the tackling part but she hadn’t been told not to lick the son of hermes’ cheek. her tongue ran up axel’s cheek once enthusiastically, then another time affectionately. the third time seemed like a tease or a test.

“keep your eyes on him,” he told marsh, then gave a small grin at the other male. lars then went around the counter in his kitchen to start heating up some leftovers. after a few minutes, he returned with two hot bowls of mushroom soups and, much to marsh’s delight, a steel bowl full of chicken bones.

“eat,” lars all but forced the soup on the son of hermes. “then tell me who did this to you,” he waved a spoon at that bruised yet still handsome face, “so i can teach ‘em a lesson next time.”

he wasn't good at arguing even when he wasn't in this state. if lars wanted him to come and get him? well, axel would tell him what was up and see if the big guy was gonna come along. he understood that lars was mostly being protective but the man he was being protective towards would still give him an out, if he chose to take it. for now? he'd just nod and give a small smile as he was pulled in.

"so this is marsh..." he huffed out a small laugh. "simon gave a description but it's nothing like seeing with my own eyes."

[coldheartxd]

in another world, perhaps he was here with his wife.

in another world, perhaps everything did turn out to be cookie-cutter and uniform, an eternity of happy but lukewarm domesticity. he could imagine him and helene being in paris for a baby-moon, or something other cliché occasion. a european wedding, maybe? a private affair in a small chapel, family and friends only.

but lars was here now with a man he dearly loved, plus a magical raccoon, and he felt right about everything.

his lips bounced back a grin before they were sealed by a kiss, much to the protest of the scoundrel between them. still, lars didn't pull away. instead he nodded, muttering, "bridge, alley, wall. anything. paris inspires imagination in a man."

and boldness, too, as his hands lowered to the sides of simon's waist.

"they got any public indecency laws in europe?" whisper-chuckled, before he leaned in again for a second, warming kiss. otto be damned.

"his alibi is the front of my jacket." a few clicks, which turned into an argument of clicks against blank raccoon-ish looks, before he grunted and all but shoved the critter into the space between his chest and front zipper.

otto's head poked up above the opening, indignant.

"you can have the plans." he relents, possibly too easily, but it doesn't matter. he had a little fun ruffling lars' feathers, a little; more more like rustling his fur, since the only thing that ruffled lars was getting himself in danger. "we're nothing-fuckin-near cookie-cutter. look more like two guys about to fight than... you know." his grin widens. "two fools ass-over-kettle for each other, and all that." poor otto was pinned between them, as simon leaned in for a kiss with that so-rough figure that seemed to soften his edges.

"you better not be kidding about that bridge thing."

[coldheartxd]

[coldheartxd]

out of everything lars expected at his doorstep, a bruised up axel was not on the list.

and he couldn't help the grimace as he looked at the other again. at that handsome face marred by purplish-reds. being one of the few who leaned into punches for the sake of protecting others, he wished he could've been there for axel. "could've called me." he folded his arms petulantly. "wherever you went. next time, you call me. i'll make sure this doesn't happen."

then, a hand pulled the son of hermes inside. axel would greeted by a drop in temperature first, the smell of mulled wine second. a medley of other scents soon followed: spices, herbs, and the musk of furs- at first thought to be from the thick, woolly blankets laid out on the bed, until a large hulking body ran up with their tail wagging towards axel and lars. "marsh-" he went in front of axel to shield him when his companion rose to her full height of five foot and six inches, tongue lopped out in a grin to greet the new passerby. "we talked about this. we don't tackle new friends, we greet them in a different way."

@coldheartxd location: boreas cabin time: late evening

axel had gotten pretty damn good at looking out for others but self-care was still a work in progress. that came both normally and with his powers. he did what he could to patch himself up with his abilities but he could only do so much. he'd have to recover the rest of the way with, well, rest.

a nice, long, hot shower to get blood and pumpkin guts off helped a lot but he still had a couple small cuts and bruises on his arms and face. nothing that looked dire, though. he was sure lars had seen worse at this point, though probably not at his doorstep, asking for a favor.

"hey," a small apologetic smile with a wave, "sorry if you're busy- was just wondering if you had any leftovers I could swipe? then I'll be out your hair."

[coldheartxd]

the raccoon stole a lopsided grin from him. “he’s gonna need a strong alibi in any case.” little mischievous rascal, cut from the same cloth as his owner. same dark-circled eyes, same silent grace, and same way of making things disappear. lars loved them both, but he would be lying through his teeth if he said equally.

a brow arched at simon’s recoil to the pamphlet. then, with his lips quirked, he bit back by countering, “but aren’t we already cookie-cutter?” his shoulder nudged simon’s. “i don’t need any set plans. just wanna walk into somewhere holding my boyfriend’s hand, carve our initials on a bridge, maybe.” that last, muttered part invoked a barely suppressed grin. fuck.

lars was in love, and because of it, he was in joy as well.

"too many."

said with a half-smile, as otto was as charming as his namesake. a first meeting. a first impression. one coy grin meeting another, ice thawed, things stolen that were being freely given. "all I've took in the past...whatever, it's all been like, weapons and shit. this guy?" holding up his arm, otto hanging off it. "stickiest fingers I ever seen. and I don't even know if he's takin shit, or just finding it." there's an art to recovering the lost.

when lars flashed the pamphlet, simon's eyeroll overtook his whole upper body. "come on, again with that thing?" amiably. teasingly. "like, I get it. a plan's good. but this, it's like. I don't even know." he chuckled, unable to keep the joke going. "cookie-cutter shit. steppin in the steps of every other newly-rich mook walkin the city." he looked up at lars, his grin a challenge.