People talk a lot about peter freaking out about meeting Bruce banner but I want Bruce learning to love the hulk because everyone else does, I want kid begging their parents for all the hulk toys because “he’s the strongest avenger mom! Not only that, but he’s green!” I want Clint sending Bruce a video of him asking his kids who there favorite avenger is and them yelling out HULK!! And you can hear his wife in the background laughing as Clint make an overly offended face, I want Asgard building a statue of hulk holding fenris by the neck with fenris looking small in comparison that they place at the gate, I want Thor inviting Bruce to the unveiling of the statue and there’s a huge feast of his favorite foods along with a seamstress making him kingly robes, in the end I want Thor making multiple trips because of all the gifts the asgardains brought for Bruce, I just want Bruce learning to love and accept all of himself and relizing all he had to do to control the hulk was to love and accept him and I just have a lot of feelings about the hulk okay?
Chapter 11 of Lovers In A Dangerous Time (i.e. Fenris the Inquisitor) is up… and this time it is totally self-indulgent smut. Just some nice tender sexy times with feels. Fenris is stressed and needs some time to unwind ok :(
Fenris breathed in deeply through his nose, then closed his eyes and released his breath through parted lips.
It was raining still, and the camp was quiet. The others had all gone to sleep over an hour ago, safe in the knowledge that a trio of Inquisition scouts were keeping guard nearby. The camp was enclosed on all sides by trees, and the only sounds were the staccato of raindrops on foliage and the subtle hiss of the salty sea breeze.
He inhaled once more, then pushed his hood back and ran his bare hands through his hair. The breeze drifted coolly across his ears and neck, and he tilted his head back to accept the fall of rain upon his face.
The silence… kaffas, he’d needed this. It had been so long since he’d had a moment of peace. A moment to just sit and do nothing. To say nothing, to speak to no one, and to just… think.
Not that his thoughts were particularly soothing. They seemed to swing incessantly between the various problems they were facing: red lyrium and rifts, politics and the Breach, Corypheus and his unknown plans and how in the blasted Void he was even still alive. And above it all, like a malignant pulse in his palm, was the green and glowing mark that served as his only source of light in the overcast night.
He stared balefully at his palm for a moment, then closed his hand into a fist. He felt both exhausted and edgy; a terrible combination, given the hard travelling they would be doing tomorrow. But as long as he was unable to sleep, it was best if he stayed out here. If he remained in the tent with Hawke, he would restlessly shuffle and shift every minute or so, and she would wake up and ask him what was wrong.
She would worry, and she’d want to help. But there was nothing she could do to stem the constant flow of problems that were flooding their way. So Fenris leaned his elbows on his knees and lowered his head, letting the rain drip soothingly along his neck and scalp until it beaded and dripped from the damp peaks of his hair.
Then he heard a sound: a shifting step on the damp grass, and a subtle sniffle of breath. A moment later, she whispered his name into the nighttime air.
“Fenris?” Hawke’s fingers ran through his wet hair, then smoothed along his nape.
He didn’t speak. He didn’t open his eyes. He tilted his head to the side, and Hawke ran her nails gently along the side of his tattooed neck.